“And, she has the dreams from Faith.”
“Yeah, and them.” Scythe picked up a hint of distaste in Ian’s tone.
“How do they work?”
“I don’t really understand them. Faith says that she’ll just be doing something random, usually something quiet, you know, like the dishes or reading. Then, without warning, there it is, right in front of her like a movie. I’ve seen it many times, with both of them. It looks like a daydream, but one that you can’t really shake them out of. It lasts anywhere from a few seconds to a couple of minutes.”
“Mercy’s been telling people that they are dreams. Do they happen when she is sleeping?”
“Yeah, they do, but not any more often than during the day. It isn’t all the time. Faith has one maybe in a couple of weeks or even less. Mercy goes through phases where she’ll see more than that, but then go a month with nothing, so who knows?”
“Do they always come true?”
“Usually, yes, but I think they are not always the same. Some are, I don’t know, ‘softer’ I think Faith said, and can be changed.”
“Ian, the Scere isn’t the only group that is going to want to get their hands on that power. You know that, right?”
Scythe felt Ian tense up behind him. “I know that, Scythe. Don’t think I don’t.”
“You should have locked her up in the house…”
“Look, we did what we thought was right for her.”
That was all well and good, but...“I am going to be straight with you, Ian.”
“I won’t like it, will I?”
“No. This isn’t really a time for your Human need to be comforted, Ian.”
“Everyone needs to be comforted, Scythe. It’s a natural condition, not a Human condition.”
Scythe ignored his attempt to stall. “I can’t see a way out for her, I really can’t, and don’t think I haven’t thought about it a lot.”
“She just needs to be careful,” Ian said stubbornly. “Faith is still free.”
“I know, but I wonder about that too.”
“Her ability is only known to us.”
“No. Her file with your government, the sealed one, has her listed as ‘powered.’”
“Really? What does it say?” Ian asked, suddenly anxious.
“It says she has an unknown, weak ability; the two verifiable instances they have listed indicate visions of other places. In other words, they think she is seeing what is happening at the moment, not in the future, which, I think is really stinking lucky. If Mercy’s ability becomes well known, it won’t take a genius to figure out where she inherited it from, since you don’t have anything like it.”
“I didn’t know there were sealed files on us,” the man said uneasily.
“There are files on everything. Before this incident, there was nothing on Mercy in the Scere file but the anecdotal records from the kidnapping indicated that she was seeing things that weren’t there; the implication was that she was delusional. So, she really stepped in it with this one.”
“Shit, that stinks.”
“It does. Now it lists a ‘report of dreams of the future.’ They are going to be on her like glue, and not just for this mission. If they don’t see anything right away, I think they are going to be checking back indefinitely. If it were me, I’d have you and Faith and Will monitored too, but I’m really thorough.”
“And Lena.”
Scythe nodded, “Yes, well, she is a little different, because she can’t be snatched without some complication, now that she’s married to a Kin. But, her file is big, and they’d take her in a minute if they thought they could manipulate her, I’m sure of it. The problem is…”
“She’d never cooperate.” Ian finished knowingly. His sister Lena was an incredibly willful woman who valued her integrity and moral code above her own life. She and Ian were alike that way, and their willpower had been proven years ago when they were kidnapped by the Scere L’Eler. Even upon threat of injury to their family, specifically to Mercy and her brother Will, they would not consider using their power for the Scere L’Eler. It was then that Ian was beaten nearly to death, and Lena had been subjected to experimentation by the Eler.
After seeing his friends display such strength, Scythe could not allow himself to be blackmailed in the same way. It had enabled him to make some hard choices, violent choices, that led him to eventually being offered a position of employment rather than near enslavement. It also was the reason that he cooperated with the Hedeler instead of the Eler, a group which he despised.
“No, and she’s kind of dangerous when she’s mad. Ian, since power runs so consistently through your family, you need to watch the kids, yours and Lena’s.”
“I know. We will.”
“You told Mercy not to talk to anyone, right?”
“Of course I did, and I told her again last night.”
“So she didn’t tell Temper anything?”
“No.”
Scythe was quiet for a moment, and then spoke, “Temper will be thorough, Ian. She will interview you, and Mercy, everyone. She will ask you outright, and she will know if you lie. She will eventually ask me.”
“What will you say?”
“I am going to try to sidestep as best as I can, but, again, I think the discovery is unavoidable. We are talking about a woman who knows her business. If Mercy has a vision here, then it’s over. If she slips up and talks, and she seems very immature to me, then it’s over.”
“What do we do?”
Scythe shrugged, “Prepare yourself. Prepare her.”
“I can’t accept that.”
“I know.”
“We could run.”
“Where?”
“Bordertowns are…”
“Increasingly regulated, and filled with people who sell information for a living. Besides, are you going to walk away from Faith? And Will?”
“To save my daughter? Of course.”
“Ian, there is no saving her from this. The most you can expect is a delay. If she is not picked up now, and let me tell you, it was really close a few days ago, then it will be in a few years. They are going to want her sooner than later, before she develops the Young family stubborn streak.”
“Forget that. I know we can find a way.”
Scythe decided to let it go for now. He didn’t have the type of personality that put stock in hoping that things would turn out just because he really wanted them to. When things looked bad, they usually were, because he had studied every possible aspect of them and that was what he had concluded. Sadly, no amount of willful disbelief could change them. He believed in evidence and planning, numerical probability and strategic placement. These things were reliable. What was hope in the face of that? Hope was an empty promise waiting to be broken.
They rode in silence for a short while, the sky slowly lightening behind them until the sun finally began to warm their backs. A town appeared on their left. It was typical of most bordertowns: a thick cluster of small homes and apartments huddled around a core of public buildings and the principal businesses that supported the community. Before Juniper went through containment, there would have been a large number of Humans living in independent residences, spread out like satellites for miles. Now, however, all Humans were required to live within the smaller town boundaries and commute to their jobs or, in Juniper’s case since it was in a predominately agricultural region, to their farms or the immense corporate farming tracts. The only exception to this restriction was the strictly enforced, limited number of Humans living with special permits on Kin property.
Phillip Moore’s home was in a dingy apartment building not far from Juniper’s northern gate. At the heavy iron doors that provided one of only three entrances in the wall that surrounded it, Scythe slowed to a stop. A Human stepped through a small door to the right of the entrance that was still closed for the night.
“You all are out early today,” he said congenially. “Papers.”
As they ha
d discussed, neither Ian nor Scythe took off their helmets. Scythe held up his wrist, “Scan.”
The man’s eyebrows rose, “Oh, yeah, all right. Hold on, I got to go get the thing. Just a min.” He turned around and hurried back the way he had come, calling, “Hey, Irv. Get me the scanner, will ya?” He mumbled under his breath, “I hope the damn thing is working this morning.”
In a moment, he and another, younger man returned with the old scanner which he used to detect the data in the band at Scythe’s wrist.
“Just takes a minute, sir.” Both of the guards used the time to examine the unique motorcycle and its riders. Scythe had given Ian a plain, black overall, which he had slipped on over his border patrol uniform; that and Scythe’s own black, nondescript, heavy pants and jacket, provided the men with little information about them, beyond the obvious. By design, the helmets’ thick, dark glass made it hard for the men to see their features, or even determine if they were Human or Kin.
Irv said, “If you boys are interested in a good meal, my sister’s got herself a nice place on Century, right by the assessor’s. You won’t find better than her cookin’ anywhere in town.”
Scythe nodded and then said through the mic, “Might check that out, if we have time.”
Encouraged, the first man said, his curiosity stronger than his common sense, “What you all up to this morning?”
Scythe paused before answering, “We’re hunting freedom fighters, know of any?”
Both men paled, and Irv even took a step back unconsciously. The first man stammered, “No, sir. They’re not welcome here in Juniper, you can bet on it.”
“No, they are not. Have caused a lot of problems for us, if you want to know the truth,” added Irv.
Scythe tilted his head, “That so?”
“Yes, sir. We here don’t have nothing to do with that type of folk, but still, some of ours have been taken and questioned. Most haven’t been back.”
“They have to come from somewhere…”
“That’s true, naturally, but Yellow Spring is very near to us, unfortunately, and they’ve got a different class there, if you know what I mean. Nasty, ruthless folk there.”
“Yellow Spring.”
“Yes, sir. That’d be where I’d start. Yellow Spring, for sure.”
Scythe nodded, but didn’t respond.
In the silence that followed, both men watched the screen closely, growing more uncomfortable, until it finally beeped. They both jumped, and the first man said quickly, “Ah, here it is. Get the gate, Irv.”
Irv turned and took two steps before stopping and asking, “No weapons search?”
His partner shook his head, double checking the readout, “No searches of any kind.”
Surprised, Irv gave Scythe and Ian a bewildered look, before hurrying to the office. Meanwhile, his superior finished reviewing the information, frowning slightly.
Scythe gave him his full attention, “We clear, Ren?” The sputtering sounds of a generator reached them along with a metallic screeching.
The man looked up quickly, “Huh? Oh, yeah. We’ll have it open in a sec. Do...do I know you?”
Scythe pointed to the man’s jacket, where a badge was pinned, “Name tag.”
“Yeah, yeah, right. Okay, there you go.” He waved them toward the gates that were swinging open.
Scythe gave a quick wave and rode smoothly through the gate. When they were through, the gates began to close again.
-----------
In the small office, Ren laid the tablet down and dropped himself into a chair. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and said, “That boy, the driver, was intel, I think.”
Irv powered off the generator that worked the gates and turned to his friend, “Really?” He looked out the window that gave them a view of the courtyard just inside the gates, craning his head to see the disappearing motorcycle.
“I got a funny feeling about the clearance. It looks good...I can’t see anything wrong with it...but my gut tells me it’s probably fake. I mean, lookie here.” He held up the tablet, highlighting the clearance code. “That can’t be right, not for someone that young. Probably hacked it somehow. I’m gonna call it in before he tries to leave, just to be sure. You contact the other gates and make sure he doesn’t leave.”
“You’re gonna try to keep that guy in? With what?” Irv asked. “Didn’t you notice the bodysuit?”
“Yeah, I saw it. Big deal. You gonna let anyone with a little padding waltz in and out of here?”
“Um, yeah. Well, out anyway. And, it wasn’t just padding. It was bullet proof. I say let him go, but that’s just me.” When Ren continued to look up the number in the procedure manual, he added, “I guess you didn’t notice that he said he was huntin' freedom fighters, not just looking for them. Huntin'.”
“I’m callin.’ You just sit there and cradle your shrunken balls.”
Irv mumbled, “At least I’ll still have some, asshole.”
-----------
Scythe returned to Ian, who was waiting by the bike around the corner from Phillip’s place.
“Let’s go.”
Ian followed him into the building to the man’s door and stood a little behind and to the right of Scythe, who knocked. After a moment, an old man appeared on the view screen by the door. He matched the description on file: gray hair, scar by the right eye, square jaw and green eyes.
“Yes? What is it?” asked Phillip grumpily. “You know what time it is?”
“We need to talk to you, Phillip, regarding your work for the border patrol last month and your possible involvement in the bombing last week,” said Scythe.
“I didn’t have nothing to do with that. I was down with a cold then.”
“Open up.”
“All right, one minute.” The old man walked away from the screen without shutting it off. His voice carried through the mic, “Goddam soulless bastards. Who wakes up a fellow at five-heaven-protect-me-thirty in the morning? Soulless bastards, that’s who.” He returned, with a robe thrown over his naked, gray haired chest. He leaned forward, opening his mouth to speak, and pushed the button to talk. The screen went blank.
Ian made a small noise in the back of his throat, but didn’t comment. After a moment, the screen came back on.
“...sons of whoredogs who couldn’t fix a...oh, there you are. One minute.” After a series of clicks and jingles, the door opened and the man stepped back to let them in. “Well, since you’re determined, you might as well come on in then.”
“Thank you. We do appreciate it,” Ian said companionably, prompting Phillip to glance back at him with a suspicious glare. They followed him into a small but comfortable living room, where Ian took a seat on the couch next to the chair Phillip dropped himself into. Scythe crossed the room, poked his head in the bedroom, bath and kitchen before taking a position by the entrance to the hall.
When Scythe did not speak, Ian explained, “We are looking for any information that would lead us to the people responsible for the bombing last week.”
“You’re talking about the terrorists. I don’t know anything about them. Hell, no one does,” he fidgeted with the belt of his robe. “That’s why the border patrol was in town looking for them. But, they didn’t find nothing, just like everyone else.”
“Everyone else? Who else?” Scythe asked.
“Our town’s law, of course, but also city security from Sonora, a couple of others that been asking around, some Kin, some Human.” He reached up and scratched his neck. “I don’t know what else I can tell ya.”
“Are you involved with the freedom fighters?” Scythe asked.
“What? No!” The man barked.
Scythe was very good at reading people, especially Humans. They gave off so many clues when they were lying: heart rates that he could hear, their smell changed slightly, and nervous ticks that they were usually unaware of. He wasn’t getting anything unusual from Phillip yet.
“Do you know anyone who is?”
“I told you, no one does. No, I don’t.”
“Your grandson?”
“My...what does he have to do with any of this?” Phillip asked, looking confused.
“Is your grandson involved with the terrorist group?”
“Of course not. He’s only fifteen, just started high school. What are you boys playing at?”
“Didn’t your grandson fill in for you with the border patrol when you were sick?”
“No. You are asking me if I sent my grandson…” Phillip got up and took a picture off of the windowsill. He brought it over to Scythe and held it in front of him. Scythe examined the picture of Phillip posing with a very young looking teenage boy; the old man had his grandson in a loose headlock and was messing his hair. “...to work for me? Do I look that desperate for money to you? Besides, with them snooping around for terrorists, it ain’t safe. Well, after what happened, that’s obvious, ain’t it? I would never put my own flesh and blood, especially a kid like Phil, in danger, you hear?” He tilted his head. “Where is this coming from?”
“Apparently it is a misunderstanding,” Ian said, holding out his hand. Phillip handed him the photo and sat back in his chair. “That is a good looking kid. Fifteen you say?” When Phillip nodded, Ian added, “I have a daughter, fourteen.”
“Well, then you know what I’m talking about. We Humans,” the man said, narrowing his eyes at Scythe, “take care of our families.” Beside him, Ian flinched.
“Phillip,” Scythe said, cooly ignoring the heavy insult, “I am going to verify your testimony, and then we are going to leave. How does that sound?” He walked forward.
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