Free Among the Free by Margaret Peterson Haddix

stole your food?”
    The people all stared at him as if those questions had never entered their minds.
    â€œWe’re starving,” Eli said, “because the Population Police don’t care if we live or die. And they made our lives so miserable, we stopped caring too.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN
    B y the time the “feast” was over, the sun had slipped down over the horizon, and the scene outside the windows slid into darkness. Eli began to talk of making a bed for Luke in front of the fireplace.
    â€œYou’re welcome to stay here as long as you want,” Eli said.
    Luke’s eyelids felt heavy as he watched the other villagers leave for their own homes. His legs felt so sore that it hurt just to shift position in his chair.
    â€œTonight,” he decided. “I’ll stay tonight.”
    Eli found threadbare quilts for him to sleep on. “Twila made this one,” Eli recounted, laying the quilts on the floor. “This was Aileen’s handiwork. . . . ” He disappeared into a back room for a few minutes, and brought back a goose-down pillow. “Adriana wanted you to have this.”
    Luke curled up in the blankets. They were much more comfortable than sleeping on rock or decaying linoleum.
    â€œThank you,” he said.
    Eli didn’t leave yet.
    â€œThere’s a little bread left. Feel free to have some breakfast if you’re up before us,” he said, yawning. “You probably will wake up first. We spend a lot of our time now sleeping.” He hesitated. “Good night.”
    Luke expected to fall asleep immediately after Eli left the room. But somehow his eyes stayed open. He stared at the embers of the fire, his mind racing.
    What if the Population Police come back and find me here? What if they’ve figured out now that I was the one who dropped the gun and ran away?
    What if the people in Chiutza are right, and the Population Police are totally out of power? Shouldn’t the people in this village know that? Wouldn’t it give them hope?
    What is wrong with these people? Are they really going to die? How could they just give up like that? Why don’t they send someone out to look for food? Do they truly want to die? Why?
    Luke forced his eyes shut, but he felt no less alert. He squirmed around, the quilts bunching up underneath him. He got up and smoothed them out again, but he didn’t lie back down right away. The moon had risen while he was curled up on the floor, and its silvery light drew him to the window. He stood there looking out at the bright, full orb in the sky, so much more beautiful than the dull, ugly huts of the village, the hard-packed dirt lanes, the leafless trees. And then he saw lights below the moon—a long string of lights along the lanes, snaking their way toward the village.
    Headlights.
    Luke jerked away from the window, dropping down below the windowsill just as he’d been trained to do when he was a little boy hiding in his parents’ house. Then he realized how useless that action was, what a waste of precious time. Whoever was behind those headlights couldn’t see him in the window from that distance. But they were getting closer.
    Luke sprang up and dashed toward Eli’s room. He banged his hand against the door.
    â€œEli! Adriana! Someone’s coming! It’s got to be the Population Police! You’ve got to run away! You’ve got to hide!”
    An eternity seemed to pass before the door creaked open and Eli stood there blinking, his whiskers and sparse white hair in disarray.
    â€œDidn’t you hear me? We’ve got to wake the others! We’ve got to leave! We’ve got to hide!” Luke screamed. When Eli didn’t move, Luke grabbed Eli’s arm and tugged him toward the window. “Look!”
    Eli stared out at the line of headlights. They were closer now, and Luke could make out vague shapes; he could tell which vehicles were cars and which were