“There’s no jamming device, they never had one,” the man maintains.
“How’d you know that? Unless you know something that I don’t know. Are they in there, Mr. Graham?”
The man hangs his head low.
“Luna!” Jeremin calls out. “Get a warrant, please.”
“We don’t need one,” she answers. “This is not a government-sanctioned living space, so according to the grid, this place doesn’t exist anymore. We can do anything we want to it.”
“That’s music to my ears!” Dirk chimes in as he grabs his rifle.
“Wait wait wait!” the man calls out in a state of panic. He tries to get up from his seat, but the restraints are preventing him from doing so. He pulls and yanks at the belt, fumbling around, trying to free himself. He finally gets the thing unbuckled; he clumsily gets to his feet. He sighs deeply, but says nothing.
“Well?” Jeremin says impatiently. “Are you going to say anything, or what?”
“I-I.”
“Enough,” Jeremin cuts him off. “Let’s roll!”
The YP’s grab their weapons, ready to move on the target.
“You won’t hurt her, will you?” the man blurts out.
“Who, your wife?” Jeremin answers condescendingly.
“Yeah, you promised you wouldn’t hurt her.”
“I did say that, didn’t I?”
“Yes you did.”
“Okay, I won’t hurt her, I promise.”
The man looks relieved.
“But,” Jeremin adds. “I can’t speak for my crew.”
The man’s face becomes terrified; he’s horror-stricken. “What?” he exclaims as fear sets in. “But you promised.”
“You have your I-card. The deal is done. Now it’s time for us to do our job.”
“Let me get her out first,” he begs as his voice shakes. “Can I at least do that?”
“Sit down, Mr. Graham. You’ve done enough for us today. Now please, we have to go.”
“Please don’t!” he sobs, slumping back down on the seat.
The doors to The Beast open and the Patrollers jump out. We begin to move silently and quickly toward the gas station. We take cover behind anything we can find. I hide behind a delivery truck that seems to have been deserted. The Drone Monster lowers down and hovers in front of the snack shop door. Its cylinder body moves into position and waits to attack.
“Sharon!” Mr. Graham screams as he comes leaping out of The Beast. “They’re coming, they’re coming!”
Dirk turns around and fires his weapon, killing the man instantly.
Jeremin looks over at Perry to see his reaction, but even with his visor down, Perry doesn’t seem to care, he doesn’t do or say anything at all. Jeremin then turns to me and says, “Remind me to grab the Immunity Card when we leave. I really don’t want that thing lying around.”
Suddenly, floodlights are switched on. The whole area is lit up. Gunfire breaks out. We’re under attack.
“Activate the Drone!” Jeremin orders.
The cylinder’s rocket engine fires up, shooting the Drone forward, smashing the front door into pieces; in fact the whole front of the building is pretty much gone. The Drone flips around and stands up right. Two gun barrels slide out from its body and fire indiscriminately, destroying everything in its path. After several moments of this, the Drone stops. That’s when we jump up and swarm the place. We kill or subdue anyone or anything that’s left. I chase some guy who’s running away from me. I catch him and throw him to the ground. And just like that, the assault that started so quickly has now come to an end. The place is calm and under control. We won. I cuff my prisoner and pick him up from off the ground. He’s old and not like an old guy with an L-Chip, but the old fashioned kind of old, wrinkled, leathered skin, white hair, frail; useless.
“You son of a bitch!” the old man shouts at me. “You pathetic piece of garbage!” He spits on my visor.
I’m surprised at the man’s boldness and disrespect; it makes me angry. Rage comes over me and I slam the butt of my rifle into his gut. He keels over and falls to the ground.
“What are you doing?” a black woman in handcuffs yells at me from across the room. “He’s 80!”
This gets Jeremin’s attention. He looks at me and observes the old man hunched over in pain. Jeremin flips up his visor, and I can see the Commander’s typical smirk. It seems he approves of my brutality. He walks over to the woman that yelled at me and grabs her by the afro. He pulls her head back so he can see her face. She’s an older woman, skinny, and actually quite attractive for someone with no L-Chip.
“You must be Sharon,” Jeremin says, smiling. “We’ve heard so much about you.” He then releases her and she falls to the ground. He turns to the other captives. “So which one you is Jack?”
No one answers.
“I guess it doesn’t matter,” Jeremin says, looking at all the dead bodies. He turns to Luna, “Should we call the sheriff, or take care of this ourselves?”
“We’re here, it’s late, let’s take care of it ourselves.”
“I like the way you think,” Jeremin says, lighting the incinerator on his rifle.
“Hold on, Commander. They’re not religious fanatics,” Dagger says, pointing to a poster of a bikini clad woman on the wall. “They’re just some crazy militia group.”
“Goddamn it, you know how I hate killing non One-Wayers. Shit, I was so looking forward to it. Oh well, call in the sheriff. They can deal with this mess.”
“Right away sir,” Luna answers.
I then notice Perry, going off by himself, inspecting each prisoner, even the dead ones. He comes to the very last body, lying on the ground. He flips it over.
“Is that your–?” I ask.
Perry shakes his head before I can even finish my sentence.
The black woman looks over and sees the dead man; she breaks down and cries.
Jeremin, who’s still standing next to her, starts to laugh. “I guess we found, Jack,” he says, looking down on her. “We understand you have a brother?”
She peers up at him in disgust.
“Don’t get all defensive lady,” Jeremin continues. “We just have a few questions to ask.”
“Like I’d tell you anything.”
“Sharon.” Perry’s voice cuts through the commotion. Her sobs stop. “Sharon,” Perry calls out to her again in a surprisingly desperate tone.
He takes off his helmet, revealing his identity. She immediately recognizes him. “Oh Kyle, how could you?” She answers.
(Kyle? She called him, Kyle. That must have been his name before he joined Youth Nation.)
“Is he here?” Perry demands.
She shakes her head.
Perry kneels down next to her. “He contacted me, Sharon. I need to know.”
“He isn’t here!” she answers boldly.
“Is he still up in the mountains?”
“Do yourself a favor, Kyle, don’t try to find him, you’ll only disappoint him. Let him think you’re that little boy who used to sing songs and play under the pews. Let him have that memory. Don’t destroy it by looking for him.”
Perry’s response is no response at all. He just gets up, puts his helmet back on and walks away.
The woman then looks up at Jeremin. “How’d you find us?” she asks. “Was it Bobby? Was it my son? Did he have something to do with this?”
Jeremin nods.
“Well, he’s your headache now,” she says coldly.
Jeremin laughs. “You’re all right, lady, you’re all right.” He waves nonchalantly for a couple YP’s to come and take her away.
CHAPTER 16
We start exploring the gas station to see what we can find. A flag of the Resistance hangs down from the crossbeam, but I’d hardly call it a flag; it’s more like a torn-up white sheet with a painted arrow on it. Next to it is something even more offensive. It’s the outlawed American red, white and blue flag. It hangs there in defiance, tattered and fade
d, just like the country it once represented. It’s such an obnoxious flag, no subtlety, no humility, its stripes, its stars; it just screams arrogance. Pure arrogance. Why hang something that’s so synonymous with fascism, slavery and genocide? I’m about to rip it down, but Dirk beats me to it. Thank God he did, I don’t want to look at that thing anymore.
The front room of the gas station or ‘snack shop’ as it was once known, is pretty dreary. Cots are everywhere; thermal blankets are thrown about, sleeping bags and dirty pillows cases are all piled up in corners. Do they really sleep in here? These people must know the Government provides free housing. Well, free housing for anyone with an L-Chip. Do they choose to live in a place like this just because they hate the L-Chip? What is wrong with these people?
We go deeper, pushing through the junk. We come to the garage. Someone flips a switch and the overhead lights flicker on. Rubber containers and non-environmentally safe corrugated boxes are stacked high all the way up to the ceiling. Dagger is the first to tip over a box; and then one by one, we all join in. Illegal canned foods, plastic un-recycled bottled water and other things that should have been destroyed in The Great Purge come falling out of the containers. We find used clothing, bags of rice and dried fruit. They eat this? We also find supplement bars (obviously stolen), plastic cups and old books. Why would anyone read a book, when you can read anything on the L-Chip? There’s toilet paper, toothbrushes with bristles no less, and soap. That’s right, the old fashioned kind of soap. I guess you have to use something when you don’t have access to a sonic shower. I look through more boxes and more junk. There’s more here than what these people could ever use. I wonder if they sell any of this stuff. And if they do, who buys it, and how do they buy it? Currency is no longer in use, and you can’t buy or sell anything without an L-Chip. Do they trade it? Trade it for what? I’m so confused or maybe I’m just amazed that all this stuff still exists.
Dirk opens a box and looks inside. I can tell he’s surprised by what he found.
“What is it?” I ask.
He shows me. I flip up my visor to make sure I’m seeing what I’m seeing.
”Are those…?”
“Oh Yeah, this stuff is like gold on the black market.” He turns over the box and cartons of cigarettes fall to the floor. He reaches down and picks one up. “People love these, you know. You ever try one?”
“Of course not, they’re illegal.”
Dirk laughs. He opens the carton and takes out a pack. He opens that up and pulls out a cigarette. He then sticks it in his lips, and lights it using the incinerator on his rifle. I can’t believe he’s doing this in front of me, in front of everyone. He just broke the law. It’s extremely illegal, but all the other YP’s hardly care. He breathes in, the tip glows red hot. Why is he doing that? He’s killing himself. He then exhales, blowing the smoke right into my face. It enters into my nostrils and down my throat, settling inside my lungs. Oh my God, second-hand smoke, I’m going to die. I cough impulsively.
He laughs.
“It’s horrible!” I cough again.
“You’ll get used to it,” he says, stuffing a couple of packs inside a compartment on his belt.
“I thought The Great Purge destroyed all things unhealthy.”
“Well, obviously they didn’t get everything. I’ll teach you how to smoke some day.” He tosses me an extra pack, but when the pack touches my hand I drop the contraband. He laughs again. He picks it up and shoves it in my chest. “Take it, choirboy!”
He walks away purposely bumping into me. I lose my balance and step back into a stack of boxes. The top container comes crashing to the floor. I stoop down to pick it up, but when I do, the bottom gives way and all the contents spill out. I look down. Am I seeing what I think I’m seeing? Twinkies, Ding-Dongs and Ho-Ho’s are all around my feet. I pick one up. I thought these things didn’t exist anymore. I can’t believe I’m holding one. Our Health Lecturers in school told us how America used to feed its people with food like this. Food made of chemicals and processed sugar, things that make people fat and unhealthy.
Jeremin walks by and sees me holding a Twinkie. He stops and snatches it out my hand. “These are good,” he says, tearing into it and tossing the illegal cellophane wrapper to the floor. He takes the perfectly uniform yellow cake and breaks it in two, revealing the cream filling inside. He takes a bite and closes his eyes like he’s in ecstasy. “Man these are good.”
The other YP’s catch wind on what I’ve found and come rushing over. They frantically grab at the packaged evil and start stuffing their faces with the unhealthy food. Luna hands me a Twinkie. “You’ve got to try this, it’ll blow your mind.”
“But it’s illegal. We could be arrested!”
Everyone cracks up as they continue to gorge themselves on the junk food. Jeremin takes the Twinkie that Luna gave me and unwraps it for me.
“Here,” he says. “Take a bite, that’s an order.”
“But–”
“Take a bite!”
I look down on the cake, this poison cake that’s in my hand. I can’t believe I’m being forced to eat it. I know if I don’t they’ll continue to berate me and treat me like an outsider. But what about my morals, my values, I’ve got to stay true to my principles.
“What the hell!” Jeremin yells. “Take a fuckin’ bite, it’s not going to kill you.”
I bite into it so as to appease them. Everyone anticipates my response. The sponge cake hits my tongue and I taste the sin. Oh my God. It’s amazing; it’s so good. I’ve never tasted anything quite like it. The combination of flavors fills my mouth. I want to join in with everyone’s enthusiasm, but I’m better than this. I know what’s right and wrong. I know what’s expected of a true Youth Patroller. I refrain and don’t respond like they want me to, so I calmly say, “Yeah, it’s okay.”
“Okay?” a YP responds. “Shut the hell up, they–are– amazing.”
“Take it easy on, Evan,” Luna says with a big smile. “He’s different from us, he has sex with Val and Taryn all the time. How could a Twinkie compare with that?” Everyone bursts out laughing.
“Hey guys!” Dirk yells out from the other side of the room. “Jackpot!”
We all look over at him; he’s holding an open box.
“What’d you find?” Luna asks
“Get your asses over here.” Dirk turns the box over and dozens of magazines come pouring out. “We got Playboy, Hustler, Penthouse. We hit the mother load, people!”
The YP’s rush over and grab the magazines as fast as they can. Fights almost break out. I’ve got to see what these magazines are all about. I walk over and in all the frenzy, a Playboy magazine falls to my feet. I look at the cover. A half naked woman stares up at me. It’s dated from a hundred years ago. I pick it up and thumb through the magazine. I stop on a page. “Whoa!” I say rather loudly. “Who the hell is that?”
“Pretty good stuff, huh, choirboy?” Dirk jokes.
“Why would smugglers have these kinds of magazines?” I ask.
“You can trade pretty much anything you want with them, it’s like having an I-Card.”
I flip a few more pages and–oh my God. She’s gorgeous. The Government issued digitally enhanced pornography that we can download once a day has got nothing on these girls. Government porn sucks. I can’t believe that this stuff was printed during the age of Religious Fanaticism. Porn and religion existed side by side, what a confusing world it must have been. A sense of shame comes over me. I throw the magazine down and take a step back. I thought we were better than our fore-parents. I thought the consciousness of the people had changed in America. But look at us; standing around gawking at naked women. What’s wrong with us? We can have sex anytime we want, and with pretty much anyone we want. Why would we want to look at these pictures? I look down at the Playboy I threw down. I succumb to the temptation and pick it up again. I stare at the women.
“Commander,” Perry says hurriedly as he comes walking into the warehouse.
/>
“Not now, medic. We’re a little occupied. Grab a mag and enjoy some porn.”
“The sheriff’s outside. They’re here for the prisoners.”
“About time.” Jeremin says, tossing his magazine away. “By the way, did we find any weapons?”
The YP’s look at each other with sheepish grins. “Were we supposed to, sir?” someone asks. “Aren’t we just going to torch the place?”
“Good point,” Jeremin responds.
We then start gathering up the prisoners, well, the ones that are still alive, and handing them over to the sheriff officers. I expected some camaraderie with the local authorities, but they don’t even talk to us or even acknowledge our existence. They come in, do their job and don’t say a word. Not a “hey, good job,” or “way to go.” They say nothing. If I’m not mistaken, they’re intimidated by us. They’re scared by our presence, but why? We’re on the same team.
I grab a couple prisoners and take them to the sheriffs, but as I hand them off, I notice a room next to the garage. It must have been an office at one time. The door is ajar, so I push it open and walk inside. Tacked up on the wall is a wrinkled up paper map of… well I assume it’s the United States of America, but from when? What era? When did the U.S. look like this? The states look so different. Check out Utah, it’s so much bigger than it is today. And what’s that? Montana? It’s not called that now. Hey, there’s New York and Pennsylvania and all those other states up there. There’s Florida and Georgia. I guess I knew those were once part of America, but I never could quite grasp the concept. America was huge. It went from the Atlantic to the Pacific. And there’s Los Angeles. It was part of California? When?
“What are you doing in here?”
I turn around and see Jeremin standing in the doorway.
“I was, um. I saw…”
“You saw what?”
“The map,” I say innocently. “This map. Have you seen anything like this before?”
Jeremin pauses and glances up at it. “Yeah, I’ve seen something like it. What about it?”
“It’s America.”
“It was America.” Jeremin tears it down from the wall and throws it on the ground. “It’s in the past. We’re supposed to hate the past, remember?”
Youth Patrol Page 10