Kzine Issue 3

by Graeme Hurry et al.

  Greater, then, was his disappointment when heard a gravelly voice behind him just as he clicked his bike into place.

  ‘You had a good jump last night. Gotta respect that.’

  Erik turned to see the tall man with the broken nose standing less than ten feet away, hidden in the shadow of a sickly clump of birch.

  ‘What do you want? Are you following me?’ Eric said.

  ‘You bet we are, bud. You got yourself something valuable.’ The man smiled and took a step forward.

  Options. The bike lock was in place; there would be no riding away. The bike path was a poor option. He might be able to outrun this guy, but he might not. Across from the path was a small forest, one of those pseudo-natural areas they love so much in the city.

  It might be a good place to lose someone.

  It was also public land. He wouldn’t have to worry about trespassing violations.

  He ran hard and fast, ducking past the tall man’s clumsy grasp and crashing through the underbrush. At first it was hard; low branches and thorny shrubs threatened to slow him. Erik ran hard, ignoring the scrapes and avoiding heavier branches.

  Fifty feet in the way became clearer. Underbrush gave way to scraggly maples and fallen deadwood. A path opened up, possibly an animal trail, but Erik took it. Behind him the tall man cursed loudly and crashed through the wood.

  Erik bolted through the forest.

  He leapt a narrow ravine and ducked under a fallen tree.

  The trail continued, faltered, then opened into a clearing.

  Erik stopped.

  A stocky figure stood in shadows at the far end of the clearing. Here was the other one, waiting. The figure stepped from the shadow, grinning and lazily swinging a Louisville slugger.

  Erik panted, breathing hard from his short run.

  The crashing, clumsy tall man rapidly approached.

  Options? Were there options? To the right was a wall of wood and bramble. To the left was a fifteen foot drop, then another wall of vegetation. Behind the short man was an old utility road, long forgotten and choked with weeds, but flat and smooth.

  Erik ran toward the drop-off, madly dashing for the big jump.

  At the last second he planted his foot and reversed hard.

  The thug saw it coming.

  The sharp crack of a baseball bat echoed through the wood.

  Everything went black.

  *

  ‘Welcome to the club, bud.’

  Erik’s eyes focused slowly on the tall man above him and then scanned his surroundings. He had awoken in a small room adorned with a dirty bed and a scratched-up dresser. Off-white paint peeled from the walls; a strong noon sun filtered through yellowed windows. The whole room was filled with the heavy scent of mildew.

  His head hurt.

  His whole body hurt.

  ‘Welcome to the team.’ the tall man said. ‘I’m Stephan. The guy who cleaned your clock is Greg. I apologize for the rough handling. It was necessary.’ Stephan smiled a smile that failed to convince Erik of the apology’s sincerity.

  Erik blinked a few times, then focused on the window. The harsh light made his headache worse, but cleared his mind.

  ‘The boss just wanted us to bring you in to take a look at your FoCon. Tweak it a little. You may notice the rules have changed a bit.’

  The light on Erik’s wrist was orange. What was going on?

  ‘So, the deal is this. You work for us now. As long as you’re breaking laws you’re okay. Stop and you’ll get that little dose of pain. See that cash on the dresser? Take it and read the note that comes with it.’

  Erik obeyed, not seeing any other options. He picked up the money, noticing a distinct lessening of his headache as he did so. He read the note.

  ‘It says this money is mine, but not until tomorrow.’ Erik turned it over, checking the back of the note for more clues.

  ‘Exactly. You keep that with you. As long as you have it you’re stealing. Keeps you from having too much trouble.’

  ‘So, I need to break the law? How did you do that? I thought this FoCon was tamper proof.’ Erik thought of the possibilities. Jaywalking, traffic violations, trespassing - could it be that these guys set him free?

  ‘Call it tamper resistant. The set of skills you need to reverse the rules are, let’s say, limited.’

  ‘Limited?’

  ‘Very limited.’

  Erik sighed. There had to be a catch. ‘So what do you want me to do?’

  ‘Wearing your conscience on the outside makes you a trustworthy guy. Have you noticed that? Ever try to walk through security? Ever got stopped by the cops?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Well, they know you can’t break rules, right? So you can get away with all kinds of stuff.’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘Let’s say smuggling.’

  *

  Crime pays.

  Crime pays well. In fact, given the financial situation with which Erik had become accustomed, there was a lot to gain from a little criminal activity.

  He kept his roofing job, but for the next week his after work activities became significantly more profitable. He smuggled on airplanes at first, carrying his unknown contraband. When that worked, he moved on to driving an old Ford F150 all the way to the Canadian border and back. He got paid well for each endeavor, piling his pockets full of more and more cash.

  There is nothing quite so liberating as breaking the rules. The thrill of jaywalking is lost on most, taken for granted. Not so with this recently freed criminal. The danger, the rush - he savored it each time. It was wonderful.

  Yet, he hated it. Something didn’t feel right about what he was doing.

  ‘Hey, Erik,’ called Jerry after seeing Erik crossing to his side of the street. It was Sunday, the last day in Erik’s first crime spree weekend in eight years.

  Erik walked up next to his friend. ‘Hey, Jer.’

  ‘You going this way?’ Jerry asked.

  ‘Yeah. Gotta pick up some groceries.’

  They walked together for a while. Erik was careful to steer the conversation to sports or television.

  ‘Erik, I’d really like it if you came to that town hall meeting on Tuesday.’

  Erik grunted. He would be busy, of course. Crime kept a person pretty booked.

  ‘Really, Erik, it won’t be bad. It’s really more of a brainstorming session on handling the increase in crime. I think you might have a unique perspective. Know what I mean?’

  ‘Yeah, I do. You want me to show up and talk about being a criminal.’

  ‘No, I want you to talk about things that might have kept you from being a criminal.’

  ‘I’m not really into talking in public.’

  ‘Well, think about it, okay?’

  They walked for another minute in silence and ended up at Bruce’s Grocery, the corner store for their neighborhood. Erik looked at the graffiti covered walls and the wrought iron bars on the windows.

  ‘Crime’s easy, you know. You need money or something, it’s just easier to take it. You don’t really think about what’ll happen when you get caught because you don’t think that’ll happen.’ Erik paused and looked at Jerry. ‘Harder punishment isn’t going to work because it just isn’t on the radar when you steal something, you know?’

  ‘I do, Erik. But they don’t. Will you come talk about it? I’ll back you up.’

  Erik breathed a few breaths of the stale city smell before answering. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’

  ‘And that’s all I ask. Thanks, Erik.’ Jerry turned and continued on his way.

  Erik wondered how much control he really had over his life. Was this really the freedom he had wanted? Stephan would give him orders, and he would obey. How hard would it be to push back a little bit?

  ‘Got a big one for you tonight.’ the tall man said on Tuesday. Greg was driving and the Stephan sat in the back seat of an aging Lincoln Towncar with Erik.

  ‘Look, Stephen, I’m not really sure this is for
me. What’s a guy have to do to get the night off? I got plans.’

  ‘It ain’t going to happen, bud. Look, you do this one tonight without a hitch and I’ll talk to the boss about getting you a day off, okay?’

  ‘Yeah, all right. So what’s this job?’

  ‘Driving the truck again. Seems to work pretty well for you.’

  ‘Yeah. So what exactly am I smuggling here?’

  ‘Does it matter? Plans are a little different this time, anyway. You’re going to pick it up and park it under the government center downtown for a handoff.’

  ‘Huh. Sounds shady enough.’ The light on Erik’s wrist was a light green. ‘A handoff under the government center? Seems like an odd choice of locations.’

  ‘Yeah. Don’t worry about it too much. Just get through security, drop the truck off, and walk away.’

  ‘Sounds good, though. I wanted to go to something down there anyway.’

  Stephan’s eyes narrowed. ‘You might wanna skip that, Erik.’

  ‘Yeah, why?’

  ‘Just skip it, okay?’

  The Towncar stopped. It had parked alongside the red Ford F150 with the rusted wheel wells and dented topper.

  The tall man handed Erik the key. ‘Just get there fast, OK? No time to mess around on this one.’

  Erik stepped out and the Lincoln pulled away. He took a better look at the pickup. He couldn’t see through the tinted windows of the topper, and the back was locked with a different key.

  Erik thought of his roofing job. He thought of the hard work, the strained muscles, the sweat and blood. He thought of the sore back and the painful knees. He thought of the tiny paycheck and of ramen noodles.

  He fingered the thick wad of cash in his pocket. The pay was good for this job. Really good. Easy money. Plus, the jaywalking was nice. No more silent frustration of wasted minutes.

  He got in the truck and started it. He pulled away, driving slowly into town. The rear of the truck seemed to float on its axels. There was a lot of weight back there.

  Did he really have a choice? Could he really hope to survive without the tall man’s help? Could he get back on the right side of the law without getting arrested?

  He had no choice but to follow orders.

  But that wasn’t true.

  There was another option. There is always an easy way and a hard way. Sometimes that hard way seems so hard that it’s impossible. Sometimes it’s just too hard. Sometimes that easy option just looks so easy.

  A familiar sight approached him. It was that intersection of pain, the one where he figured out how to safely approach the bike path. All that pain seemed so pointless now. The borders between rules never seemed to mesh perfectly.

  Erik turned.

  This was going to be hard, but he had to see what was in the truck, and for that he needed privacy. He knew where to get it.

  *

  As the sun set, Erik flipped through the worn pages of a public telephone book. The thing was old. It was faded, worn, and missing quite a few pages, but it had what he needed.

  His cell phone rang. It was the tall man.

  ‘Hey, Stephen. What’s up?’ Erik answered.

  ‘You park the truck yet?’

  ‘Yeah, it’s parked.’

  ‘The guys said they didn’t see you park it.’

  ‘It’s parked, okay?’

  The tall man hung up.

  Erik looked at the phone. Not much time left. The timer in the truck had been set for just after 7 o’clock. It was 6:34 right now. Eirk hadn’t really understood all of the wires and detonators, but the purpose had been pretty obvious.

  It was a bomb.

  He tried to dial 911. It would be so much better if the cops knew about this. His head started to throb with 9, positively pounded with 1, and he never even got the second 1 off before his hands went numb and he dropped the phone. It was useless. He couldn’t warn the cops.

  The cell phone rang again.

  ‘You calling the cops, Erik?’ Stephen’s voice on the other end again.

  ‘No, just..’ How did he know?

  ‘You know that money you stole this morning, Erik?’

  ‘Yeah, I..’

  ‘It’s yours, bud. Go ahead and keep it. You’re paid early today.’ Stephen hung up again.

  Erik stared at the blinking red light on his wrist.

  Red was bad.

  Blinking red had to be worse.

  He was no longer carrying stolen cash. Everything he was currently doing was legal. This was bad. In the reversed logic of his FoCon this was murder or grand theft or treason. This was a death sentence.

  The sharp stabbing started at the base of his neck. From there it spread up to his head and down to his chest. Each beat of his heart became a screeching scream of hot lava, pumping red-hot pain to his extremities.

  He was losing control of his limbs. Each muscle screamed as he forced himself up. Had he fallen? He nearly blacked out again from the pain, but he saw what he needed.

  With a hand twisted into a claw with pain, he grabbed for the phone book.

  And tore free one page.

  ‘You all right, man?’

  Erik rose and stretched the last lingering pain from his neck. A man stared at him, concern on his face.

  ‘Yeah, I’m okay. Just a seizure.’

  There were other onlookers. Slowly they went about their business.

  That man stayed, though. ‘Look, I’m a doctor. Are you sure you’re all right? That didn’t look like a regular seizure.’

  Erik would have answered, but a glance at his wrist showed something more concerning. Green had changed to yellow. It was still blinking.

  Options. He needed to get to the address that he found in the phone book. He could take a taxi, but that would take too long. The light shifted to orange at that thought. It didn’t shift back.

  He’d have to do this another way.

  ‘Do you mind if I borrow your car?’ He asked of the concerned man. The man’s car was at the filling pump ten feet away.

  ‘Um, yeah, I mind.’ The guy stepped back and made a move for his car.

  He didn’t make it.

  Erik stepped forward and swept the doctor’s legs out from under him. He followed down with a heavy fist, bloodying the guy’s nose.

  ‘Keys.’

  The man handed over his keys.

  Erik jumped in the black Lexus and drove away without bothering to take the pump out.

  He glanced at his wrist.

  Full green.

  Erik felt a glimmer of hope. This might be easy after all.

  It was not. Grand theft auto was not enough to please the machine for long. The light shifted from green to yellow within minutes, warning of a rapid slide to the dreaded red.

  Luckily, speeding and a lack of turn signals kept it at bay.

  Erik reached in his pocket for the phone book page. He flattened it against the steering wheel, ignoring honks as he brushed way too close to another driver.

  Meadow Bay was a suburb not far from his current location, but it would take time to get there. The sun was down now, and traffic was starting to thin along the main corridor. He’d get there in ten minutes obeying the laws.

  He mashed the gas pedal to the floor and smiled at the smooth revving of the engine.

  If he had to speed, he might as well do it by a lot.

  Tires squealed as Erik rocketed off of the freeway and navigated into the tight corners of the sleepy suburb.

  He wouldn’t have much time to pull this off. His light was blinking orange again, slowly making its way to red despite his terrible driving. Once he left the car, what would stop it from turning red?

  Erik stomped on the gas, launching the car over the curb and into the front yard of a blue ranch style home.

  The lights were on.

  He jumped out of the car. The FoCon didn’t seem to notice the difference between grand theft and trespassing. That had always bothered him before; now it seemed a little more accept
able.

  He kicked at the front door. Why knock? Real criminals kick.

  After the second kick the door caved. He stepped in, and saw the man he was looking for.

  Vincent Kraus.

  Dr. Kraus held a small pistol, pointing it at the intruder. Television blared and a TV dinner decorated the brown shag carpet.

  ‘Stay back or I’ll shoot!’

  ‘I need your help, Doc.’ said Erik in his calmest voice. No use getting shot over this. Erik saw his wrist blinking yellow as he raised his hands.

  Vincent spotted it as well. He gave it a quizzical look.

  ‘It’s broken, Doc. It has everything backwards.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘If I stop committing crimes it kills me. It’s pretty serious, too. Why is it blinking?’

  ‘It has decided you are up to trouble.’ Vincent lowered his gun. ‘Normally, if you were to commit a murder or similar crime it would kill you as quickly as it could. If you were to follow that up with a series of good deeds you might hold it off for a while, but you would be doomed unless it was neutralized by some extreme self sacrifice.’

  ‘So I’m in sudden death rounds?’

  ‘Precisely.’

  ‘I need to do something really bad, then?’

  ‘So it seems.’ Dr. Kraus smiled. ‘May I ask how it got reversed?’

  ‘Some guys knocked me out and did it. I don’t know how it happened, but they want me to do some stuff for them and it seems like I don’t have a choice.’

  ‘Then maybe you should do as they say. This would fill the needs, right?’

  Erik considered this. It might work. Move the truck. Place the bomb where it could do some damage

  How many people would die?

  Who would die?

  Erik realized that it wasn’t faceless people who would die, but Jerry. Jerry and a dozen other politicians, all of whom were against the brutal punishment for crimes. Their most devoted followers would be there, too.

  ‘I won’t do it.’

  A sudden tweak of pain spread from his neck. It faded fast, but he knew he had displeased the device.

  ‘So be it.’ Vincent’s serious expression transformed to a sneer. ‘Then, you are welcome in my home, Erik.’