I Got'cha!

by David J. Wighton

  Doc wrote that he couldn’t tell me when I was younger that he had known my grandmother. Dear mother had planted a lot of bad seeds. If I had learned that a brown boy had killed my grandmother, I might have ignored what he was trying to teach me and join the supremacists. But now, he couldn’t bear to see me putting my life at risk for a dissident movement that had long ago rejected grandmother’s ideals. It was all right if I hated him. Doc just didn’t want me throwing away my life for nothing. He wrote that my grandmother lived on through me. He couldn’t watch her die twice.

  Grandmother’s locket was in the bottom of the envelope inside a little blue box. Doc left a handwritten note inside the box too.

  When I was seventeen, I often wished that your grandmother had been fifteen. I knew what she was like at twenty-five; but I had always wanted to know what she had been like when she was closer to my own age. Now, I know.

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  Chapter 22

  From Izzy's journals: Early Thursday morning, 2 days to the wedding.

  I had to swear on my grandmother’s name that I wasn’t mad at Doc before he'd unlock his door. I gave him a long hug, he looked so miserable; was weepy myself. Doc had assumed the blame for grandmother’s death because he had made a bad suicide pill. I told him that a storm trooper had killed Grandmother, not him. He blamed himself for being too frightened to insist on being there with her. “What good would that have done?” I asked. “What would have happened to me without you here?” I asked.

  He talked for hours about Grandmother and I just sat there drinking it all in. All that I had known about her was that she had died protesting. Listening to Doc, I found out what kind of a person she had been. I wondered how he had survived with all the guilt over her death eating him up for over fifty years. I told him he was right not to tell me. Doc said he had been frightened of losing me.

  I told Doc that I had always thought Grandmother was superhuman and was surprised to learn that she had the same fears as I did; confessed that I was always fighting to keep fear out of my mind. I was frightened of mentioning Doc’s name under torture; frightened of revealing what really happened on my operation to catch the Z-man; and frightened of letting anything slip that would allow the DPS to catch him. I felt better after getting that out.

  We talked about fear; finally agreed that it was normal to be frightened of frightening things; not reacting that way meant that you were probably mad – like the wackos we were living with. Doc said that being brave was forcing yourself to do something frightening in spite of being frightened; told me that I not only looked like grandmother, but I acted like her too. Words felt good; like being in a warm bath of Doc.

  I thought of Doc’s guilt feelings. He had been frightened but still kept his promise; that made him brave; told him so. I tried to give Doc a warm bath of Melissa; not only from me, but from my grandmother too.

  Promised Doc that I would leave camp, but I wanted to try to expose Phlegm first; told him how close I was; needed a partner. He volunteered without knowing what; told him what to do. “Easy,” he said.

  Doc said I was pinning everything on finding evidence on Phlegm’s pinky computer. I agreed. “What if the evidence is not there?” he asked. “Then, I’ll leave before the wedding,” I promised. Doc said even if I found evidence on Phlegm’s computer, I was still a long way from proving him guilty. I agreed. I needed to trap Phlegm at his stash but didn’t know how to do that yet. We put our brains together; didn’t help.

  Doc and I reached an agreement that made both of us happy. If I wasn't able to prove Phlegm guilty one hour before the wedding, I would disappear. Otherwise, I would go through with my plan to expose him. If successful, I would disappear immediately afterwards. If not successful, Doc would create a distraction. I promised to flee without looking back. We didn’t discuss what we’d do if that didn’t work.

  Then, we just sat and talked. I told him about my imagining U-Know-Who and pretending to talk with him. He teased me; asked me if I ever imagined myself kissing him. I denied it, but got all red. Nothing wrong with that, Doc said; gives you a reason to hope.

  We talked about hope for a while and then I left; made it back to Phlegm’s cabin far too late to break into his bedroom and steal his computer.

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  Chapter 23

  From Izzy's journals: Thursday afternoon, 2 days to the wedding.

  I followed Wannabee into the woods and he let me drift a little distance away on my own. I had gotten what I wanted in that first minute. Wannabee would have to wait another fifty-nine minutes to get his prize – a real kiss this time.

  Wannabee would never take me anywhere near Phlegm’s hidden treasure; therefore, it wasn’t in this direction. Nor was it in the direction he took me the last time. I had one more day to narrow the search with another supervised hike. After that, all I had to do was escape surveillance in the middle of the night, search a huge area of the woods in moonlight without being seen, and find a hiding place that Phlegm had taken great pains to conceal. And for my encore, I’d make all the DPS buildings float into the sky.

  Doc said that I have to hope; said one of worst things the IOF does to us is make us live without hope; losing hope means they win. He asked me what I hoped for. I said that I hoped I could see U-Know-Who again. Doc said I should tell him that. “I don’t know where he is,” I said. Tell him anyway, Doc said. Then, he went into a funny voice – “Use the force, Melissa.”

  Silly line from a very old flic. Poor man didn’t have enough to keep him busy in the evenings; told him so. Doc suggested I shine an outline of a bat on the moon instead. I didn’t get that one.

  I decided to try contacting Will from the woods; I guess it doesn’t hurt to pretend.

  Will, are you there?

  I saw him in the room with the filing cabinets again and asked him how I could find Phlegm’s stash. Will answered without thinking. Make Phlegm worry that his secret has been uncovered, turn yourself invisible, and follow him to his stash.

  I guess I didn’t use enough force. Turn myself invisible? Right! I gave Wannabee a millisecond peck on the lips, wriggled out of his grasp and ran back to camp.

  # # # # # # # #

  From Will's journals: Thursday afternoon, October 19.

  I was exploring filing cabinet #26 and, as usual, was finding it difficult to keep focused late in the afternoon. I had finally finished the drawers full of annual economic reports going back fifty-two years. I was glad I had stuck with it since they had given me great insight into how the IOF operated. Alberta received a lot of wealth from trade, something that was not visible to normal citizens. It would be interesting to track where that wealth went; hopefully, I’d find the information in the remaining cabinets.

  I was working my way through the filing cabinets that contained documents describing the early years of the IOF. I found reports on all the early protests, pictures of the leaders, information on where they lived, and much more. Izzy was right – the transition had not been smooth. Filing cabinets #27-#31 contained detailed folders on individual dissidents. I was just browsing through them, mostly looking at the pictures, thinking that I should move on to the next section. A big red No longer a threat was stamped on the cover sheet of each file.

  I began wondering if they had anything on Izzy’s grandmother. Unfortunately, I had never learned her name. I didn’t even know Izzy’s last name. So, I started flipping quickly through the files looking for the woman that I remembered from my childhood. I found her in the second drawer of #31. Melissa Stanley. Age twenty-five. She had a husband – a Classified stamp blocked out his name – and a two-year old daughter named Deirdre. The folder bulged with pictures of Izzy’s grandmother – some showed her inside a home, others were taken outside. Izzy would probably like to have these pictures. I knew Izzy had red hair and white skin too, but couldn’t begin to imagine what she looked like without her brown disguise. I wondered if she looked anything
like her grandmother.

  I stopped flipping through the pictures when I came to the one I remembered of Izzy’s grandmother lying on some pavement, green coat open around her. Her right hand was reaching out for someone. I got the strangest feeling – almost like someone was calling my name, but nobody was around. Then, I knew, just knew that Izzy was in trouble. I stuffed the file folder back into the drawer and looked around to be sure everything looked normal before I flew off to …

  I didn’t know where Izzy was.

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  Chapter 24

  From Izzy's journals: Early Friday morning, the day before the wedding.

  I slipped into Phlegm’s room after he was sound asleep, brought his computer back to my room, hooked it up to a console, and gained access by using my recording of his voice speaking his oral password. First, I gave myself full access to his files with my own thought and oral passwords. The word traitor seemed quite appropriate.

  Phlegm had assumed that having his pinky computer tied to his personal thoughts and to his voice was ample protection. He was so confident that he actually used file names that described their contents clearly. That made it easy to find what I needed. Got’cha Phlegm.

  I returned the pinky-ring to Phlegm’s battery charger, refastened my wall panel, and plopped down on the bed. I had found incriminating evidence that proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that Phlegm was a traitor. However, I didn’t have any way to make that information public. Nobody was going to believe that I had just happened to find Phlegm’s computer, and I just happened to guess its password, and guess what? It had a file that proved he was a traitor. A militant’s pinky computer is sacred. It was second in importance only to his arsenal of weapons. No mere woman dared touch either. If I confronted Phlegm in public with information from his pinky ring, all he had to do was accuse me of hacking into his computer and I’d die in a hail of bullets before I could say another word. The wedding vows gave me one tiny possibility, but I couldn’t think of a way to take advantage of them. I played various scenarios in my mind, and they always ended with Phlegm accusing me of hacking and then starting the carnage.

  I simply couldn’t confront Phlegm publicly. My only hope was his stash. If I could just find out where it was, I’d be able to stake it out, make him worried enough to dig it up, and record him in that act with my pinky computer camera. There were a lot of holes in the plan – but at least I had a hope. I had to find his hiding place tonight.

  # # # # # # # #

  From Izzy's journals: Friday noon, the day before the wedding.

  I was sitting in the bottom of a gulley, taking one last look at the woods I had grown up in. Wannabee had led me in a new direction on this hike; by elimination, I knew where to start my search. I’d have no problem slipping into the woods tonight what with all the pre-nuptial celebrations. There was a huge Radical Militant bachelor party for Phlegm and dear mother was hosting a big White Supremacist party. She was kind enough to let me know that it wasn’t necessary for me to be at my party. Fine with me. I had better things to do.

  Doc said to keep up hope. OK Doc, I’ll try.

  Where would Phlegm hide his treasure? He wouldn’t want it discovered by accident. He would want to bury it but that can be difficult to do in a forest. That meant it couldn’t be too close to any tree. It had to be in a place where trees were spread out – something partially in the open? How many places like that could there be? Perhaps, it wasn’t as hopeless as it seemed.

  “Time for my kiss.”

  I heard Wannabee crunching through the leaves down the little slope I was hunched on. I ignored him to take one last look. I loved this little section of the woods. So quiet; so peaceful; leaves all down now; crispy air; sunlight filtering through the mist; a light flashing in the distance; squirrels chasing each other up a tree…

  A flashing light?

  I turned my head back to where I had seen the light. There! Two flashes, then two more. Was I so desperate that I was imagining flashing lights?

  Two flashes, then two more. I moved my right hand to my heart and made crossing motions. The response was immediate – two flashes, then two more.

  Was it a trick of light? I waited, staring into a very narrow sector of the woods. Leaves and other foliage were gone. I saw no obvious hiding place. A pit? If so, I wouldn’t be able to see it from here.

  I couldn't wait any longer. I crossed my heart and before I had finished there were two flashes, a pause, then two more. I almost laughed out loud. How?

  “This time I get a real kiss.” Wannabee yanked me to my feet, turned me around, and mashed his mouth against mine. I struggled to get away but he was using his left hand behind my head to push my face into his open mouth and his right hand was grabbing my butt. I ducked my head, spun away from his clutch, pushed him to the ground and ran. Wannabee called out – “Clem said it was OK.”

  Up the slope and down the other side; heard Wannabee pounding behind me; slowed down to lure him away from Will; woods too bare for Will to hide well. I splashed through a deep stream; feet got soaked; didn’t care. Ran up and over the bank; camp close now; heard Wannabee fall with big splash; grunt of pain; smack of something hitting something; another grunt. Then, no sounds.

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  Chapter 25

  From Will's journals: Friday noon, October 20.

  Wisps of flaming red hair crept over the crest of the ridge. Then, Izzy saw me waiting, rose from her belly-crawl, and ran down the ridge to the stream where I had ambushed the goon.

  She approached me slowly – not completely sure who it was, I guess because of my beard. Plus, I was in full camouflage gear. I hadn’t known what I would find so I had come prepared for anything. “Will?” she asked.

  “Izzy!” I replied. Then, we just stared at each other. “Is this guy a friend of yours?” I asked to break the silence, thinking not, but wanting to be sure.

  She looked at the goon lying in the stream, head half in the water, cheek pressed against a rock. “Wannabee? You gotta be kidding.” She put a finger into her mouth and pretended to gag.

  “Thought not.” I ground my heel into his right hand until I felt some bones break. He wouldn’t be grabbing anything with that hand for a while.

  “What happened to him?”

  “He tripped on something he couldn’t see as he was crossing the stream. He’s out cold for now.” I lifted his head to show Izzy. The goon’s eyes were closed and his lips were all bloodied. “His face bounced hard on the rocks a couple of times. I think some teeth are loose. He won’t be kissing anyone for a while.”

  Izzy smiled and then she saw my sky-sling standing open and upright next to the stream. “What’s that?”

  “My sky-sling. This guy Wannabee isn’t going to be unconscious forever; we should get out of here.” I steered Izzy into the sky-sling, closed the lid, and put us into a hover thirty-meters or so in the air.

  I was only centimeters away from Izzy’s eyes, so I could see them get wide as we rose. Without her contacts, they were blue now. She swiveled her head as much as she could in the tight space. My sky-sling was built for one. It reminded me of the time we were in her earth pit together. Only now, we were standing up. I put the sky-sling into a slow rotation so that she could see everything – the camp below us and the surrounding forests.

  “You invented this?”

  “You gave me the idea.”

  “Won’t people see us hovering in the air?”

  “We’re invisible to anyone outside.”

  “Is that what you meant about turning invisible and following Phlegm?”

  Same old Izzy. Weird as ever. I just ignored the crazy talk and looked at her. So this was what red hair and white skin looked like. She stared at me too.

  “You cut your hair. I like it this way.”

  “I like your red hair.”

  “You’ve grown a bit.”

  I nodded. My nose was just above her
nose now. Without the fake skin, I could see that it was much thinner than mine. She even had a cluster of freckles just above the tip. “I’m trying to grow a beard to change the outline of my face. It’s kind of straggly right now.”

  She raised her hand to touch it but pulled it back. I think we both had become aware of how close we were to each other. Both of us were standing stiffly, hands by our sides, a sliver of space between us. Both of us were probably pressing back against the sky-sling so that we wouldn’t be touching. I knew I was. I could see Izzy trying to say something, so I just waited.

  “Will – why are you here?”

  I had rehearsed what I was going to say, but couldn’t remember any of it now. The words all came out in a rush. “I was going through some DPS files and found some pictures of your grandmother. I was thinking that you might like to have them, but then I felt like I should come and see you right away because you were in trouble. And I was right. You are. I had to search the DPS files to see if they knew the location of the dissident camps. They do. The DPS knows where every dissident camp is; they know exactly who is in each camp. That’s how I found out where you were. You’re in danger. They have an informant right in this camp.”

  Izzy was just looking at me like she didn’t believe me. Maybe she didn’t want me here? “I thought you should know, so I came to tell you that,” I added. I was going to promise that I wouldn’t stay if she didn’t want me there, but I didn’t want to say that.

  “Were you in a room with a lot of filing cabinets?”

  “Yeah. The DPS file room on the top floor of its Edmonton building. It used to be a computer room, but now it only has filing cabinets. You helped me get in.”

  “I helped you get in?”

  I felt kind of silly about this, but decided to tell her anyway. “See, when I didn’t know what to do about something, I’d pretend that you were there, and I would ask you what to do, and you’d tell me. It was just pretend, but I got lots of good ideas from you. You told me not to leave the DPS building by the roof; you also warned me not to turn on the lights in the file room, but I wouldn’t have done that anyway.”