by Marie Brown
Red Racer
Marie Brown
©2012
Table of Contents
Chapter 0: Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 0: Prologue
Sunlight dappled the abandoned dirt road, peering through the leaves of the stately trees. Wind whispered through the leaves, rattling them, and occasionally shaking loose an early faller from the brilliant mix of colors. The trees were just beginning to turn, with vivid yellow and red showing bright and startling against the array of greens.
Suddenly, the tranquility of the scene shattered with a roar. A gleaming red ground vehicle, outlawed and antiquated but still possessed of great speed and beauty, raced along the lane, scattering leaves and flushing birds from the bushes. It screamed down the road, awakening memories of times long gone. Times when vehicles such as this were common, times when the people were free. . .
Up in one of the trees, an electronic Eye glared balefully at the scene, a red light indicating that it was transmitting the view of the crime in progress, as it should. Whether or not anyone was watching for the transmission in the distant cityplex was anyone's guess.
Chapter 1
"Huh, check that out, Kief."
Kief looked up from his meal and smiled. The vidcaster was showing a view of the infamous Red Racer, the anti-social rebel who regularly made fools out of the Order. "Looks like he's at it again."
"Yeah. Wonder who he is?" His friend, Cole, stared up at the monitor with a distant look in his eyes, fork dangling forgotten in his hand. The red car on the screen roared down a deserted roadway, then disappeared from the camera's view.
"Huh, don't matter, now do it?"
Kief winced at the grating squeal of Vidder's voice. The screen shifted to show an Order representative, promising dire things in the future of the rebel.
"I mean," Vidder continued rapidly, sliding up to the bar and perching on a stool, "he is, uh, he is, like doomed, yes that he be." He waved his arms extravagantly, nearly taking out a nearby patron's drink.
"Settle down, turbo," Kief admonished.
"How so you think he's doomed, Vid?"
"He be way doomed, Cole-me-man. The Eyes, they be watching, and they be going to catch him, 'cause what he do be bad." The wiry little man drew out the vowel until it was nearly a separate word in itself.
"Bad, Vid? Why you say he's bad?" Kief glanced up at the vidcaster, but it had long since moved on to other news.
"Because he break the law, man." Vidder widened his faded blue eyes and nodded emphatically. "Breakin' the motor law, that he is. And ev'one know that breakin' the motor law is illeeeegal."
"Yeah, yeah, we know," Cole said impatiently. "Now why don't you just zip off, Vidder?"
Vidder raked a hand through his thinning, dirty-blond hair. "Zip off your own self, Cole-me-man. This be my off time."
"Yeah, and don't you have somewhere to be?" Kief nudged at Vidder. The little guy was okay, really, but a little of his company could go a long way.
"Huh. Me?" Vidder frowned, puzzled. "Not that I know."
"Excuse me," a new voice said. Startled, Kief looked up and met a pair of clear hazel eyes. "Is this person bothering you?"
"Uh. . ." Kief blinked rapidly and tried to pull his thoughts back together. "Not truly, he isn't. He's a friend. Kind of. But if he goes away, that frees up a spot for you."
Cole snickered. "Huh, right. But he was just leaving, wasn't he, Vidder?"
"Fine then, fine then. Got no place to go that I know, but I'll go be there, where nobody be trying getting rid of me." He grumbled and complained, but a cheery wink and small wave let them know he wasn't really upset.
Vidder had hardly left the seat when the newcomer slipped onto the stool. Kief realized that he was staring, and had been since the young man arrived, but he couldn't help himself.
"Hi," he said, hand clenched on the edge of the bar as an anchor to reality. "I'm Kief. You?"
"Name's Ry." He smiled and offered his hand. Kief took it, feeling a nearly electric shock at the contact. "You busy tonight?"
"Not really," Kief replied, retrieving his hand with considerable reluctance. The skin on his shoulders prickled, but he refused to turn around and see if the Eye was watching the interaction from his vantage point. "You sticking around?"
"Maybe."
Ry had a very nice smile, Kief decided. He could feel an answering one spreading across his own face.
"Well, I'm not," Cole said loudly.
"Huh?" Kief finally broke his gaze away from Ry when his friend thumped his shoulder. "Cole? What's up?"
"I'm off. Can see when I'm not wanted, eh?" He grinned. "Be here tomorrow?"
"As usual," Kief said automatically. "You don't have to go, Cole."
"Huh. Man, I can see when the time is right for leaving, and that time would be now."
Kief shrugged. "Tomorrow, then."
Ry surreptitiously put a hand on Kief's knee. "He's right about one thing," he said in a low voice, as Cole merged into the Friday night crowd.
"Yeah? What's that?"
"The time is right for leaving. Join me?"
"You got it," Kief smiled.
He rose to follow Ry. This time, he couldn't prevent a reflexive glance at the Eye, but the man was focused on something else. Ry slipped quietly through the tables filled with people intent on squeezing as much joy as they were allowed from a Friday night. Kief followed, nerves alight with anticipation. The skin on his back crawled, insisting that the Eye was watching, was making a report even as he walked, was calling in backup people to question him for suspicious behavior. . .
But nothing happened. They reached the door of the rec facility with no incident. The corridor outside was nearly deserted. But above their heads, an electronic Eye glared red, faithfully recording every arrival and departure.
"This way," Ry said, turning downcorridor. Kief was startled. Only the working districts lay down that path. Had he misunderstood? But then Ry smiled at him again, and he followed.
"Lead on," Kief grinned. They walked briskly down the corridor.
"It's all in the timing," Ry said, breaking the silence. He checked his wristcomp.
"What?"
"Timing is the key. Where I go, don't hesitate to follow, okay?"
Now thoroughly mystified, Kief nodded. Ry slowed down, watching a connecting corridor ahead.
"Five. Four. Three. Two. And now. . ."
Two Eyes appeared, marching around the corner. Kief glanced uneasily at the Eye symbol on their drab grey uniforms, wondering if there was any truth to the rumor that the patch itself was a recording device. The men looked them over sharply and moved on, brisk pace never faltering.
"Right on schedule," Ry whispered, with a satisfied smile, after they had passed. "C'mon, you'll like this."
Kief shrugged and followed. If nothing else came of this evening, at least it was becoming quite an adventure. Ry was looking at the wall now, pressing seemingly random spots. A door slid open, and Kief jumped back, startled.
"What—how did you—"
"Shh, I'll tell you later. Now come on." Ry ducked into the service corridor. Kief followed again, looking around with wide eyes. The door slid shut behind him, leaving them in a large, dimly lit corridor.
Pipes, ducts, and wires stretched overhead as far as the eye could see. Gray brick walls curved over them, watching the intruders. In the distance, the steady hum of machinery indicated that they weren't too far from one of the great air processors.
"Holy shit," Kief said, a
lmost reverently. Ry chuckled.
"Better watch it, I might report you."
Kief smiled at him. "Somehow, I think you'd be in deeper trouble for breaking in here than I would for a little foul language."
Ry's eyes clouded. "Huh. Man, you've got that more right than you know. But it doesn't matter, 'cause they won't catch me. That's what's with the timing. We were recorded leaving the rec room, then we were spotted going towards the business district, which gives a proper alibi. Right place, right time. You know they turn most of the monitors off there after close of business."
"They do?"
"Yeah, they do. So we've got every reason to have vanished utterly. And these corridors aren't monitored at all. Still interested in being a bit illegal? Or was I reading you wrong?"
"Not at all," Kief said fervently. "I mean—yes, of course I'm still interested, and no you weren't reading me wrong."
"Great," Ry smiled. Then he reached out and took Kief's hand, leading him down the service corridor towards the residential section. "Not much further, then."
"How do you know all this stuff?"
"Don't ask, okay? You probably don't want to know."
"Huh. If you say so. But I thought I knew a lot of tricks. I could never time the arrival of Eyes or open a service corridor, though."
"But you don't have to. That's what I'm here for."
Kief laughed. It made him feel good, knowing there were no Eyes watching every move he made. "So where are we going, then?"
"Somewhere illegal," Ry winked at him.
Kief laughed and gave it up. "Okay, you win. No more questions. But I'm curious as anything, here."
"I know. Maybe later, okay? If things work out."
Huh? Kief wondered what things there were to work out. What had started out as a simple chance for a little illicit fun was becoming more complex by the moment.
"Here." Ry stopped and pressed on the wall again. Kief had enough time to wonder where they were in the cityplex before the wall slid open to reveal a large room.
Kief ducked through the hidden doorway before it could close, then stared in wonder at the room. But he only caught a glimpse of the treasures within before the door closed, cutting off the light.
"Hang on a minute. Don't move, you might trip."
Kief heard Ry moving about surely in the dark, then there was a small flare of light when he struck a match. The tiny flame flickered, then steadied into the warm mellow glow of an antique oil lamp.
"By all the forgotten ancestors," Kief said, in awe. "Where did you get all this contraband?"
"Been collecting it all my life," Ry said, understandably proud. The room was like a vision of the past. Pictures on the wall, figurines, a shimmering burgundy blanket surely made of satin, candles, even an elegant stitched carpet on the floor. . . it was all from the old days, the times before the wars. Printed books, the slender paper volumes once called magazines, electrical equipment recognizable as early forms of vidcasters and wristcomps, at least a dozen prints of live animals and fantastic scenery. . .
"Amazing. Simply amazing."
"Yeah. I like to think so." Ry busied himself lighting a pair of candles. Then he set them on a small table beside the low bed and straightened up, looking at Kief.
"So, uh, you're a collector, right?" Kief swallowed hard, suddenly very nervous. "Not, like, you know, bait."
Ry laughed. "I assure you, the last thing the Order would want me doing is what I'm doing right now. I collected all this over the years. It wasn't handed to me so I could lure attractive young men into my lair."
Kief smiled, somewhat reassured. Ry moved closer, put his hands on Kief's shoulders. "Besides," Ry continued, "do you really think they'd allow a trap to be set inside an unused store room? The bait usually infiltrates an, um, establishment."
"Wouldn't know," Kief started, then was interrupted by a kiss. A very nice kiss, warm and enticing.
"Enough talk, don't you think?" Ry murmured. Kief agreed distractedly, finally getting his hands on Ry. They moved together towards the bed, hands eagerly removing clothing as they went.
Later, filled with a warm glow of satisfaction, Kief started to detangle himself from the twisted sheets and Ry, but was stopped by urgent hands.
"Don't go," Ry said, pulling him back down. "You don’t have to leave. There's still plenty of time."
Kief chuckled. "Okay, then, I'll stay. I'd rather be here anyway."
"Good." Ry ran a hand through Kief's hair. "You should let your hair grow longer. It'd look good on you."
"I wish. It's already as long as it can get without getting me in trouble. Can't have the Eyes watching me too closely, you know."
"They already are."
"What?" Kief shot bolt upright, heart pounding. The satin blanket slithered down into his lap.
"Hey, easy there," Ry tugged on him, trying to get him to lay down again. "I just meant they're watching you as much as they watch all of us, you know? Can't even take a piss without it being recorded on some monitor somewhere. Why? Got a guilty conscience?"
"Maybe." Kief relaxed back into Ry's arms, retrieving the blanket. "After all, sexual contact is illegal and immoral without proper approval." He almost wished he could tell the real reason behind his nervousness, but no. Entirely too risky.
"Forms and paperwork and medical testing, and even then only allowed between married couples trying to reproduce. . . no thank you. I'll take the illegal variety any day."
Kief started to agree, but was sidetracked by Ry's hands and mouth, leading to a bit more illegal activity.
* * * *
"Will I see you again?" Ry asked, watching Kief get dressed.
"Most definitely." Kief smiled, then a wave of uncertainty washed over him. "That is, if you want to?"
"Very much so. Can I find you at the same rec facility?"
"I'm there most weekends. You?"
"Never been to that one before, but I sure will go there now."
"Damn," Kief said, drinking in the sight of the naked young man on the rumpled bed.
"What's wrong?"
"Just wishing I didn't have to go away now, that's all."
"Yeah." Ry stretched, yawning. "But I don't have to go just yet. You think you can make it back if I tell you when there'll be a patrol? Go out the door right after them?"
"Um. . ." Kief could feel his face heating. "How do I find the door? It all looks like a wall, to me."
"Oh, zip. I'd forgotten about that bit." Ry slid gracefully out of bed and into his clothing. "I'll show you. But then I'm going back to bed."
"Only if you dream of me," Kief grinned.
"Oh, I will," Ry promised. "Trust me, I will."
Chapter 2
Returning to normal life the next morning was a distinct letdown. When the waking buzz sounded, it jolted him free of a dream of Ry. Kief smiled and stretched langorously, then rolled out of bed and got dressed.
The normal morning trek to work was accomplished in a pleasant haze. Sterile white walls passed by unnoticed. Masses of people shuffled by, quietly going about their daily lives, but Kief only saw a single face in memory. He made an effort to concentrate on his work, but only after his supervisor reprimanded him and offered to report him for hindering production. But how could he possibly concentrate on turbine engine repair when the world was such a wonderful place?
"Designation 042536?"
Shit. Reality intruded with a jolt on his way home. Kief shook his head free of last night's memories and focused on the Eye in front of him.
"Yes, sir." He hoped that sounded properly respectful. He wondered, as he always did, why the Eyes ever bothered asking. Couldn't they see the number across his back, on his shoulder, on his front pocket? Maybe they thought they were being polite.
"You're on report. Take this to the Watchcenter by your quarters and receive your assignment."
Kief automatically accepted the little slip of paper and the Eye
moved off, back to his post across the corridor. What'd I do now?
He checked the paper. Improper attitude. Failure to correct behavior. Ignoring attempt to contact. All minor infractions, so at least he wasn't too far in the hot water. Probably they'd set him to watching the vid. . . again. He sighed and moved on down the corridor, making the attempt to modify his behavior to be socially acceptable. At least a Watchcenter lurked nearby. He could get the unpleasantness out of the way early and return to the rec facility. Maybe Ry would be there again tonight.
He reached the Watchcenter quickly and entered, as always feeling a stab of apprehension. True, he'd never been physically harmed in there, but so many others had. Not to mention the ever-present threat of erasure. . .
"Offense?" The bored Eye on duty asked. Wordlessly, Kief held out his citation. The Eye scanned it, entered some information in the comp, then jerked his head towards the vid cubicles. "C-4. Glory of the Order and Responsibility. And try to pay attention this time, okay?"
"Yes, sir," Kief muttered. Damn. Two of them. He'd been hoping for just one vid. He entered the cubicle, small and sterile white, with only a wallscreen and a hard bench.
He sat down, trying in vain to find a comfortable position, as the vid started playing.
"You're watching Glory of the Order," the soundtrack boomed, in case he didn't know that already. The highly partisan account of the wars started playing, emphasizing how dreadful the human condition had once been. Scenes of incredible violence, human beings living in conditions a sewer rat would shun, people living in sin and dying in poverty. . . this part of the video always made Kief wonder what it had really been like back then. He'd heard stories from his uncle that indicated the vid showed less than half of the truth.
Then the vid shifted to the wars themselves, showing how other countries lashed out at the rampant immorality and sin, and the response of the land whose name had been erased.
The United States of America, Kief thought defiantly. His uncle had made certain that he knew that name and knew what it stood for.
The bombs started dropping as the nameless country struck back. The vid showed devastation beyond imagining, and then. . . peace. The Order had arisen. According to the vid, the benevolent Order took over the nameless country, eradicating the wicked ways and bringing its people to morality and decency. Thus ended the wars, with no further reason for any other country to strike at the people of the Order.
Yeah, right. Kief held onto his talisman against the subliminal conditioning used in these cubicles: the truth. His uncle had told him everything. The Order had risen from the ashes, true, but not from a defeated and demoralized country. While no one had used the world-killing capability of nuclear weapons, whole countries had still been destroyed. Even the United States had, for once, suffered significant damage. When the Order had first shown itself, it had seemed like such a good idea. Back then they had been a mere faction of the ruling government. But then they grew powerful enough and took over one metropolis after another, until they were the ruling government. Far from the quiet and bloodless takeover portrayed, where people welcomed the Order with open arms, all resistance was utterly crushed. Kief's own relatives, all except Robert and Kelly, had been erased. Robert had broken free entirely, living as a renegade and tolerated by the Order as long as he didn't cause any problems. Kelly had been too young to be on her own and had been taken into the Order. She had become Kief's great-grandmother, although she hadn't lived to meet him.