We filed out of the parking lot and entered the stream of human beings flowing toward The Port. The hologram of Dragon floated before me, solid looking, but shimmering like a ghost and as equally untouchable.
“Less shimmer,” I ordered. “We’re outside and in public.”
He dimmed the light. Not that anyone else was paying attention. Just me. Good thing no one else was. I was the only one who noticed someone’s elbow pass through Dragon’s arm. Or a piece of fruit that fell off a stall and rolled through his foot. People see what they expect to see, I guess.
And it didn’t matter. We’d gone about three blocks from the van before Dragon stopped. I almost walked through him. I think someone might’ve noticed that.
“What’s wrong?” Darren demanded. He kept twitching like he was expecting the Games Boss or his goons to grab him up any second.
“You have to go back, right?” It came out more of a statement than a question.
“This is pathetic,” Dragon blurted out. “I need to plug in…”
I shook my head. “No way, my friend. You need to get back to that van and stay there. I’ll keep my earpiece on if you need us.”
His eyes narrowed. His fists actually clenched. Nice touch.
“You’re getting better at showing human emotions,” I said with a grin.
His expression hardened. Mouth barely moving, he hissed, “That’s because I am human.” He spun around, almost walked through a woman selling sushi rolls and stormed away.
Darren scratched at his oily black hair. “I never realised what a temper he had. Did you?”
I didn’t answer as I watched Dragon disappear into the crowd. It was a point though. I hadn’t noticed strong emotions in him before, before he found his real image.
Then again, he was a human brain, not a computer.
We headed toward The Port. The air buzzed with sea spray, bargaining, fish stench, seagulls and flies. A number of ships were docked along or near one of several piers.
“For heaven’s sake,” I muttered to myself. I’d forgotten to ask Dragon what I was looking for. Apart from a private yacht. There were lots of those, so that didn’t help me. I was so used to him always being around, accessible, always there when I needed a friend.
Maybe that sounds creepy. But him always being with me never felt creepy. Guess it depends what you get used to growing up, right?
I pushed in the earpiece and pressed the small button that turned on my cellphone’s voice activation.
“Call Dragon,” I ordered, slow and clear. The phone obeyed. Gotta love that, when technology does what it’s supposed to.
“Yes?” Dragon’s voice was cool, still pissed off.
“Stop pouting,” I ordered. “What am I looking for?”
“She’s saying it’s…”
“Whoa,” I interrupted. “Are you online right now?”
“Not exactly,” he said. Slow, reluctant, guilty. “I plugged into the van’s communication system to see if I could pick up on the security channel.”
Something was wrong with that.
Breathe, I reminded myself. You’re being paranoid.
“Myth? Are you okay?” he asked.
“Oh, sure,” I joked. “Just having another bout of paranoia. Same old thing.”
Silence. I stopped walking, moved up against a building, leaned into the coolness of the stone tiles. Darren’s mouth was about to catch some of those flies buzzing around, if he wasn’t careful. I shook my head at him and studied the paving stones.
“Myth, if you’re going to have a problem…” Dragon left the thought hanging there.
“No,” I said, straightening my back. “I’m fine. Just… uh, do me a favour and don’t tell her where you are. You haven’t told her, have you?”
I chewed my thumb nail, waiting for his response. Soon, I’d have no nail left and would be chewing on skin.
“No, I haven’t. And I won’t,” he finally said. “She’s in a yacht with the flag of the mainland painted on the side. Pier 4. See if you can find a quiet route for the portable unit to access. We don’t want people asking us what’s underneath the cart covering.”
“Sure.” I left the connection on, pushed myself away from the wall and walked through the swarm of people, with Darren hurrying after me. The pedestrian-only plaza that led to the piers was full of people and products. Shops spewed their merchandise onto the edges of the plaza, competing with the numerous stalls. Overhead, several video billboards showed happy scenes to demonstrate why we should all buy their products.
A block away from the piers, Darren yanked at my arm and pulled me into a doorway of a shop. I spun about, ready to tear a strip off him. I didn’t. His face was pasty. Eyes wide and twitching.
“They’re here,” he whispered. Like anyone could hear over the background noise.
“Who?”
He poked the air with a finger. I started to swivel in that direction. He grabbed my elbow, squeezed. For a kid, he sure had a strong grip. Guess terror gave him strength.
“Don’t. Look.” He pulled me farther into the doorway and peered over my shoulder and through the glass storefront. “The Games Boss’s goons.”
I glanced over my shoulder, pressed the side of my face against the window. “I don’t see them.”
“It’s not his usual ones. Look there, and there,” he said, pointing out several characters. Yup, they certainly did fit the description of ‘goons.’ “He keeps these ones away from him, so there’s no direct connection.”
I turned, looked at the kid. “How do you know that? How deep are you in?”
“Deep,” he said and shivered, cracking his knuckles.
“What’s wrong?” Dragon asked.
“Seems like our gambler here has some unsavoury friends who miss him,” I explained. “We can’t stay here all day.”
I started to step away when Darren grabbed my arm again. This was getting old, fast. “What now?”
“Security,” he squeaked.
I surveyed the crowd. I smacked my forehead with the palm of my hand. How had I not seen them before? There was a line of security guards across the open area leading to the piers. The guards were checking out everyone who passed through the line. Sometimes asking for ID, checking bags, hassling people.
Looking for me.
“No way, no how we’re going through there,” Darren said.
I actually had to agree. No way, no how.
To top it off, all the video billboards froze and their images dissolved into white fuzz. There was about to be a public service announcement. It would appear on all the billboards and communication screens throughout the island. An elegantly dressed man beamed down from each of them, gazing upon the plaza, the essence of benevolence, the mafia’s version of Santa Claus. Unless you were in too deep with loans or gambling. The Games Boss wasn’t quite so benevolent then.
“Greetings, my friends.” His cultured voice boomed out across the plaza. That caught people’s attention. Normally the video billboards were silent. “Sana Island is in need of your assistance. Security forces are looking for the following fugitives.”
He gestured with a manicured hand and two larger than life portrait photos appeared on all the billboards and communication screens across the city. Darren cracked his knuckles. I bit my thumb hard.
I wanted to squeal and hide my head under my jacket. Instead, I grumbled, “That’s a terrible photo of me. Must’ve just rolled out of bed or something.”
“This is not funny,” Darren whispered, pointing at his own mug shot.
Before I could think up some suitably humorous remark, the Games Boss continued. “A substantial reward will be provided to anyone who has information that leads to the capture of these two fugitives. Please be aware that they are highly dangerous.”
The image fizzled away, to be replaced by the usual menagerie of advertisements. The crowd buzzed with temporary excitement as people continued on with their business.
“Great,” I m
uttered. “Now the whole city will be on the lookout.”
“I think that’s the general idea,” Darren said.
I gave him The Look, my eyebrows raised in disbelief. “No kidding, Sherlock.”
I swung around, ready to lead us back a ways and through the service lane behind the buildings. More guards approaching, sauntering towards the piers, sandwiching the crowd between the two lines of guards.
More knuckle cracking.
“Stop that. It’s disgusting,” I hissed.
“Can’t.” Crack. “Help it.” Crack, crack.
I was about to crack something just then. Instead, I made eye contact with a guard. A guard I knew from Grogan’s building. Her eyes widened, her mouth opened, her arm started rising.
“Inside,” I snapped and shoved Darren through the door and into the shop.
It was a souvenir shop, crowded with overflowing shelves and racks. Every kind of tacky souvenir imaginable, and a few that shouldn’t be, cluttered up the space. A bell clanged, announcing our arrival.
Darren’s momentum carried him into a rack of T-shirts. I yanked him out and towards the back of the shop. An elderly lady hobbled out to greet us.
Commotion from outside. Shouting, boots stamping.
“Back exit,” I snapped before the storekeeper could open her mouth.
She stared at me. Darren mumbled an apology. I didn’t have time to be polite. I dragged him farther inside to a back door.
A bell clanged.
The shouting entered the quiet shop. I yanked open the back door, pushed in, slammed it shut. It had a lock but it wouldn’t hold long.
Boxes stuffed with more tacky junk loomed over us. I hurried through the maze.
Let there be a back exit, please, please.
A fist banged against the door behind us. Bad news always starts with a noise at the door.
“Myth,” Darren squeaked.
There was an exit. I pulled back the lock.
The door behind us exploded in a shower of splinters.
“Run, run,” Darren shrieked, throwing himself against the exit door.
We tumbled into the service lane and ran. I didn’t think about the yacht waiting for us. All I could think of was Dragon. We had to get back to him before they found him.
Shouts and heavy boots followed us. I wondered if the security system was fully functional, if the sensors were following us, feeding information to an army of guards waiting up ahead.
Darren veered into a smaller alley branching off the lane. I sure hoped he knew where he was going.
“Halt!” A shout echoed around us, followed by a gun shot.
Gun shot? I almost stopped. There were no guns on the island. Not real guns. Only various sizes and strengths of Taser guns.
Another shot ricocheted off a wall near me. Bits of stone flicked off.
On second thought, maybe there were real guns here after all.
Darren bounded up a set of stairs, towards a heavy-duty metal door with ‘Cho Restaurant’ painted on it in bright pink. Pulled something from his pocket. A key.
I stood at the bottom of the stairs, wondering if I should just keep running. The door popped open. I sprinted upwards, reaching the door just as a couple guards started up the stairs.
Darren slammed the door in their face, bolted it locked, grabbed my hand. I didn’t protest. He pulled me through the dimly lit storeroom and into a bustling kitchen. Sizzling oil, steaming rice, soy sauce. I breathed it all in.
I was hungry.
Not the time to salivate, girl.
But, wow, it did smell good. The things you think about when you’re running for your life, right?
“Darren,” a skinny Chinese man yelled from across the kitchen. I recognised him—Mr. Cho. “Where’ve you been?”
Darren slowed to an urgent march but didn’t stop moving us through the kitchen. “Hi, Dad. I’m fine. Bye, Dad.”
“Eh, Darren,” a small Chinese lady shouted cheerfully. She grinned, her eyes disappearing into her plump cheeks. “You look hungry. You hungry? Eat lunch?” She waved at a couple bags of takeout waiting on the counter.
“Yeah, Granny, thanks,” he said as he grabbed up the bags.
“Hey, we have paying customers,” Mr. Cho protested as we neared another door.
“Son is hungry,” Granny Cho yelled back happily.
Some customer was not going to be happy. Neither was Mr. Cho. More shouting followed us as we ran through the door into the restaurant.
Customers and waiters gaped at us as we continued our flight, zipping around tables and people. I kept my eyes fixed on the entrance. So far, it was free of guards. We stepped out into the quiet street, the savoury aromas of Chinese food clinging to us like a cool mist on a hot day.
I leaned against the window front, gazed up and down the narrow street. A few pedestrians, a couple vehicles. I savoured the quiet, safe moment.
It wouldn’t last long.
Chapter 24: Myth
I closed my eyes for a moment. Placed us on the map.
“Ah, Myth,” Darren said, cracking his knuckles. That really was a horrible sound. “Those guards are gonna come around the corner any minute now.”
I nodded my head, opened my eyes. Pressed the button in my earpiece. “Call Dragon.” Pause.
“So you’re still alive and free?” He was trying to sound cool about it. I heard the worry.
“Yeah. For now.” I reached into the bag of takeout Darren handed me. Deep breath. Oh, that smelled good. The kid had just climbed the social ladder from ‘worm’ status to ‘he’s alright’ with that bag grab. “But if the sensors are up and running, they’ll track us pretty quick. Can you drive the van?” I asked as we jogged across the road and into another back alley.
“I can.” Hesitation. “However, I need to connect directly with the vehicle’s control panel. And the angle won’t allow me to project my image.”
I crunched into a spring roll. Heavenly taste. Kudos to Darren’s family. He may be a gambling addict, but his parents sure knew how to cook. “In other words,” I said around a mouthful, “the van will look like it’s being driven without a driver. I can live with that. We’ll meet you at the entrance of the main plaza in five minutes.”
We kept to the alleys until we neared the plaza. Clutching our lunch bags, we slowed our pace, kept to the shadows as much as possible. I could see the plaza ahead, bustling with street vendors, entertainers, shoppers, and guards.
More guards. Great.
I also saw the van, parked nearby at the other end of the road. Unfortunately, I wasn’t the only person to see it. It was rather eye-catching, with its dents, scrapes, broken mirrors, shattered lights and Grogan’s name painted on all sides. A couple guards approached it, looking for the driver. One started talking into his phone.
“Brilliant,” I muttered.
“Not really,” Dragon’s voice spoke into my ear.
“Sarcasm, Dragon,” I said. “We gotta work on your sarcasm.”
One of the guards tried the door. It was locked.
“Dragon, drive towards us,” I ordered.
“Where would that be?”
I smacked a hand on my forehead. Of course, he was essentially blind right now. I couldn’t see the sensor unit, which meant it was either plugged in or hiding under the dash. If Dragon was plugged into the van, he could only see what the van’s front sensor saw.
“Just drive straight on, fast,” I said. “I’ll tell you when to slow down.”
The guard stopped trying to unlock the door and peered through the window. I saw a hologram pop up. It was a red dragon with a set of vicious looking teeth. The guard screamed, jumped back, knocking into the other guard.
The dragon disappeared and a couple seconds later the van peeled away from the curb. The dragon-shocked guard stayed on the ground, but others took up the chase.
“Get ready to jump in,” I told Darren, moving towards the centre of the road. “Okay, Dragon, slow down… now.”
“Dragon, unlock the doors,” I shouted.
The door slid open. I tossed my takeout bag in, helped Darren jump up and grabbed the edge of the doorway. One of the guards sprinted ahead of the others, glaring at me, his Taser poised to fire.
“Go,” Darren shouted as he collapsed onto a seat.
The van surged ahead. One of my feet slipped off the edge. The side door began to slide back into place, towards my hands. I kicked at it, just as fingers curled around my pants. The other foot slipped off. I kicked at the guard.
“Hey, a little help,” I shrieked, my feet flapping against the ground, the van, the door, a guard’s head.
Darren grabbed at my jacket, tugged me in. We both fell onto a seat. The door slammed into place.
“What were you thinking, not opening the door?” I yelled. I tried to stand up, to get to the driver’s seat. The van spun around a corner, slamming me back onto Darren.
“You only told me to slow down,” Dragon responded. He sounded irritated, like it was my fault he hadn’t unlocked the doors for us.
“Well, I kinda assumed you’d figure the rest out,” I muttered, pulled myself up and staggered to the front seat. The city was a blur outside the window. We were on a quiet street, parallel to the main artery. Not many people to witness us breaking all driving laws. “I’ll take over, thanks.”
The sensor unit disengaged from the control panel and rolled over to the other seat. Dragon’s image immerged. Yup, definitely irritated, bordering on sulking. I didn’t remember him sulking before.
“Thanks for picking us up,” I offered. Last thing I needed was a pissed off holographic dragon on my hands.
He smiled, the irritation gone as quickly as it had appeared. “You’re right. I should’ve figured out you’d need the doors…”
The van slammed to a halt. Dragon’s sensor unit knocked into the windscreen, while my collarbone had a nasty meeting with the steering wheel. The small screen on the control panel flickered on. A message popped up: Remote driver engaged.
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