by Jacob Gowans
A small laugh came from Jeffie before she’d even realized it. She had not expected Kobe to talk about it. Perhaps he wasn’t as embarrassed as she thought. “Um . . . have you seen Kaden yet?” she asked.
“No. I’m on my way down now, but he knows I’m getting back today. It’s not like it’ll be a huge surprise or anything.”
“Well, it’s a surprise to me, at least. A good one.” She closed her eyes with an inward grimace. What a stupid thing to say.
“Thanks.”
They looked at each other for a moment, and then he spoke up again, this time in a lower voice. “You know . . .” From his tone, Jeffie thought he was going to talk about Sammy. “The doctor I worked with at the hospital, he says I don’t share my feelings enough. I don’t confront awkwardness head on. It got me thinking. I never apologized for what I did back when—you know.” He shrugged his shoulders as if that somehow indicated exactly what he meant.
“What are you talking about?”
“When we were dating.”
“Oh.” The tape of them kissing. She hadn’t thought about that in a while. “Right. You never did.”
“Sorry, Jeffer.”
The word Jeffer caught her attention. While they’d dated, Kobe liked to play with her name. He called her all kinds of variations: Jeffanie, Jeffer, and Jeffing were just a few.
“No worries,” she told him with a dismissive hand.
Kobe took her by the arm and pulled her close so he could speak right into her ear. “Look, tell everyone not to treat me all weird or anything just because I went wacko. I’m fine now. I feel good. And I want to live normally again. Can you do that for me?”
“Sure.” It reminded her of when she’d broken her leg and everyone had showered their sympathies on her for the short time she wore a cast. She’d hated it.
He let go of her arm and smiled as they pulled apart. “Are you going down to the cafeteria for dinner?”
“Shower first. Then dinner.”
They walked down the stairs and Kobe stopped just before they reached the cafeteria. “I know you want to talk about Sammy.”
Twice during the first weeks after Rio, she’d tried to talk to him. Both times he would not have it. He changed the subject very abruptly and, after the second time, began avoiding her. She wanted so badly to hear from him what had happened. After all, Kobe had been with Sammy until the end.
Jeffie opened her mouth to protest that she hadn’t thought about it, but Kobe pushed on.
“And I will tell you about what happened. I just need time. You know?”
“Yeah, sure. No worries.” She didn’t know what else to say.
“Meanwhile, if you want to do some gaming like we used to, let me know.”
Jeffie froze at his request, knowing he was casually dropping an invitation to formally hang out. Without thinking, she blurted another “sure” and hurried to the showers.
After cleaning up, she went to the cafeteria and ordered a Mexican salad from the Robochef. The large room was quiet, which was nice. Most of the Betas were hanging out in the rec room, probably talking to Kobe. He’d been missed. Kaden, Ludwig, and Miguel had spent the better part of the last several weeks moping around. Hefani sat in the far corner of the room with Antonio eating a pizza. Jeffie tried not to look at Hefani, he still reminded her too much of Sammy.
When she’d almost finished her salad, Brickert came in and sat next to her.
“Hey,” he said breathlessly and wiped his forehead with his sleeve. “Almost. Not kidding. I almost beat that stupid sim today. Once. Then every time after that, I sucked it up. I’ll tell you, if I’d been a mop, the sim room would be spotless.”
Jeffie smiled at the way Brickert could just joke it off, even though she knew his frustration rivaled hers. After talking to several of the older girls, Jeffie had come to the conclusion that everyone got to this point around their one year mark. Advanced combat training. Some arrived a little before, others a little after. Kawai was about as far as Jeffie and Brickert. Natalia, however, had slipped behind their group, and was still struggling with Weapons and Demolition.
“What about you?” Brickert asked. “Anything new happen today?”
Jeffie shook her head as she scraped up her leftover dressing onto some lettuce. “Oh wait, duh, Kobe’s back.”
Brickert didn’t seem to care one way or another. “Did you see him, or did someone tell you?”
“I saw him less than an hour ago. I’m pretty sure the commander brought him.”
Brickert reached passed her and stole her glass of water. After taking a long drink, he set it back. “Thanks.”
Jeffie crinkled her nose. “Gross. Keep it.”
“Double thanks.” After another drink, he wiped his lips. “I want to talk to Byron.”
“About what?”
“Sammy’s recordings.”
She put down her fork and folded her arms. It was something her mother would do, but she didn’t let that stop her. Brickert noticed the gesture and put his hands up in defense.
“You don’t have to come with me. I’ve made up my mind.”
The firm tone in Brickert’s voice took Jeffie by surprise. It also made her angry. She wasn’t used to Brickert standing up to her.
“I know I don’t have to come with you,” she replied, “and I have a reason for it if you’ll just listen to me.”
Red spots appeared on her friend’s cheeks and his attention was on the glass of water sitting in front of him. “No, you don’t,” he blurted.
“Excuse me?”
He still couldn’t look her in the eye. “You don’t have a reason, Jeffie. Not a good one, I’ll tell you. I mean, think about it. What are you going to say? That Sammy wouldn’t want us to learn from his recordings? I know he would. I know him better than anyone.”
“That’s crap, Brickert.”
He glanced up at her and then back to the table. “It’s not. We’ve already talked about this. You said what you wanted to say. It’s not crap.”
“It is!” Jeffie said loud enough that Hefani and Antonio looked over from across the room to see where the commotion was coming from.
“Why do you think Sammy volunteered his time to teach Al in the sims? Why do you think he spent so much time going over his own recordings? He didn’t just want to be the best, he wanted to show everyone what was possible. He told me exactly that!”
Jeffie stood up and looked down at Brickert. “Don’t act like you know what he’d want just because you roomed with him.”
“If he were here now, he’d be going into the sims to help us, I’ll tell you. At first, it was about the competition to him. Being number one in everything. Later on, it was all about the war. He was so excited when he beat the four Thirteen sim because it meant that other people would start believing they stood a better chance against the Thirteens than before. If he could do it, anyone could. But if you’re too afraid to go in there and—”
“Don’t tell me I’m afraid!” Her warning was low and menacing.
Brickert stood up, too. His expression was both fearful and defiant. “You are. Okay? You’re afraid. I can tell.”
Jeffie tried to interrupt him again, but all that came out was an incoherent sound of disbelief.
“I don’t know what your problem is, Jeffie. I thought you’d be in on this with me. You and I promised each other we wouldn’t give up until we beat the four Thirteen sim. Remember? To do that, I need his help.”
Without another word, he took his exit, leaving Jeffie wondering who had just flipped the universe on its head. She pushed her salad away and put her head in her hands. It was then that she noticed the room had gone silent, and when she looked up she saw Antonio and Hefani watching her from across the room. They instantly went back to talking when she saw them, but all this did was infuriate her more, so she got up and left.
Halfway down the stairs, she realized that, more than anything, she wanted to talk to her mom. Unfortunately, Jeffie had made it a ha
bit to use her monthly call home on the first day of every month. That way, her parents always knew when she was calling and would be ready for her. That was five days ago. She still had twenty-six days to go.
The next day, Brickert acted as though nothing had changed between them. Jeffie didn’t mention their conversation either, but it stayed on her mind most of the day. What did she have against viewing Sammy’s recordings? As far as she could tell, she had no adverse feelings toward seeing Sammy. Quite the opposite, if she really thought about it. And there was no question that studying him would teach her more than anyone else here could.
So then what’s my deal? she asked herself more than once.
The answer didn’t come to her. Not that day. Nor did it come the next. After three days of not being able to come up with a good excuse, Jeffie figured maybe there just wasn’t a good reason at all. Now the only problem she had was going back to Brickert and telling him he was right.
“Could you repeat that again for me?” Brickert asked when she apologized over breakfast. “I’m being serious. I don’t know if I heard you quite right.” Then he had to duck before her English muffin hit him in the face.
After a short discussion, they decided to contact Commander Byron and ask for a meeting. Neither of them had ever done such a thing, though Brickert had worked with the commander twice in the sims. Still, asking for a private meeting was another matter entirely, and they had no idea how he might react to their request.
“Should we just . . . call him?” Brickert asked.
Jeffie saw the hesitancy in Brickert’s eyes, the spots threatening to form on his cheeks, and activated her own com. “You mean, should I just call him?” She rolled her eyes and told her com to call Byron.
Fifteen minutes later, they were in sim room one sitting down on plush blue holo-chairs. Commander Byron had his arms resting across his chest, probably wondering what on earth two Betas wanted to talk about on a Friday evening while everyone else was downstairs in the rec room playing the sweetest fighting simulator Jeffie had ever seen.
“So tell me what this is about,” he said with congenial interest.
Jeffie looked to Brickert whose face again told her she had the responsibility to make the request. She replied with a scathing glare.
“Well,” she started hesitantly, “we were—we wondered if you would release the holo-recordings of Sammy’s sims for us to study.”
The commander’s face showed no surprise. Jeffie wondered if he’d been waiting for one of the Betas to make this very request.
He read something off his com screen and then put it away. “Neither of you has even reached three Thirteens yet,” he stated. “Might this request be a bit premature?”
Jeffie thought for only a moment before giving her answer. She’d already spent the last three days mulling over the very same question. “No, sir, we don’t. I think the sooner we learn how to win these battles the better. What good is there in waiting?”
Commander Byron observed her for a moment, then his attention shifted to Brickert. Brickert looked everywhere but back at Byron’s eyes.
Byron answered in his unique, measured tone, carefully placing each word as she knew him to do. “Technically, I am not able to do that. The records of a Beta are considered his or her private property and they are also considered classified documents. Only Samuel or General Wu can clear them for you.”
Brickert and Jeffie exchanged a private glance.
“All right,” Brickert added quickly, “but we thought in light of everything that’s happened . . .”
“Plus he’s—well, he’s our—” Jeffie started to say.
“I know,” the commander said with an uncharacteristic interruption. Jeffie thought she’d upset him. If she did, he showed no sign of it. Instead of saying any more on the subject, Commander Byron simply fell silent and looked at them. Perhaps he was waiting to be convinced.
Finally, she spoke up again. “Sir, we realize the ramifications of this, but we also know the importance of what Sammy was—what Sammy is.” For a moment she couldn’t believe what she’d just said. “I don’t think anyone, even Al, could teach us to fight like Sammy can.”
“No offense or anything,” Brickert said hastily.
The commander smiled briefly and said, “I agree with both of you. But laws are laws and nothing can be changed. I will have to see if I can have Samuel’s records declassified, maybe on a limited basis. Is that fair?”
“That’d be great,” Brickert assured him.
“Good,” the commander said, standing up. “In the meantime, keep working hard.” In two strides, he had left the room, leaving Brickert and Jeffie looking at each other.
“That was weird,” Jeffie commented. “Wasn’t that weird?”
Brickert didn’t seem to know what to think. The holo-chair he’d been sitting on disappeared and he hit the floor. Jeffie started to laugh and helped him up.
As Brickert rubbed his bottom, he asked, “What do you think he’ll come up with? Anything?”
“I don’t know. Hopefully something useful.”
16. Texoma
March 5, 2086
SAMMY HATED TEXAS. At least, he hated Texas in early March. Harsh winds relentlessly blew down from the north, chilling them. It was their second day of walking, having spent yesterday’s remaining sunlight walking twenty or so kilometers east from the spot where they’d jumped from the air rail. When exhaustion finally caught up to them, sometime in the middle of the night, they still couldn’t stop to sleep because of the biting cold. Moving was the only thing keeping them warm. By the light of the moon, they searched for shelter. After hours of wandering, Toad spotted a boarded up shack that did little more than shield them from the wind. They huddled together inside, too tired to keep watch. Sleep came in spurts of five or ten minutes before a loud sound or frigid gust of wind woke them. The moment light appeared through the spaces between the boards, they set off northward.
Most of the terrain was unused plots of farmland, which provided little cover. He knew they should be traveling at night to help conceal their movements, but at such temperatures, how could they? They crossed plenty of country roads, most in disrepair. Sammy focused only on putting one foot in front of the other. He had no thoughts, no ideas. Deep down, he knew this was a bad omen. The realization that something in his brain had changed, and changed drastically at that, had begun to dawn on him back when they were in the bathroom of the air rail hub in Rio.
But Sammy didn’t want to admit it. He didn’t want to acknowledge that his once stellar, keen mind was about as good as a scrambled egg dumped in his skull. Truth was, Sammy could no longer see, and after relying on that wonderful Anomaly Eleven for the last couple years, the possibility that it was gone was like losing a friend.
Other than helping him learn faster than most people and allowing him to see solutions to problems, he wasn’t sure what Anomaly Eleven meant to him. What else would it affect?
What if I’m naturally a dumb person? he wondered as he fell asleep.
The second day was milder, and the winds eased up. They had no clue if they were headed in the right direction other than north, but moving seemed a much better idea than standing still. It also helped them to forget about their growing hunger. About midday they came upon water and drank until their bellies were so full they sloshed at each step. Every few kilometers, they saw a house or large barn, but didn’t dare go near. No cars ever passed them on the roads, and eventually, even the roads became scarcer.
After night fell, they pressed on, making poor progress with very little energy and rougher terrain. Between exhaustion, hunger, and the cold, the boys were absolutely miserable. As they walked farther north, they came across more and more trees until they were in a forest. When they finally had to rest, they could do nothing more than put their backs up to a tree and try to sleep.
Sammy didn’t know how, but he got more rest that night than the one before. He woke to the sound of Toad crying for h
is parents. His sobs were wet and pitiful, laced with a deep moaning that ached for comfort. Sammy watched Toad with a detached passivity that he’d never before experienced. For one who had gone through something so horrifically similar, Sammy had no desire to provide empathy. Only a sense of duty finally motivated him to speak to the younger boy. He reassured Toad that he, too, had once lived through the same trauma, and in time the pain inside would lessen.
Toad’s crying only got worse. Sammy tried to have patience, but he had so little of it since leaving Rio. His emotions always flew from one extreme to the next.
“Can’t you calm down so we can get going?” he finally asked Toad.
“No . . .” Toad moaned. “I don’t even know where I’m going!”
Sammy reasoned that it was time to tell Toad at least some things. If Toad proved to be untrustworthy (though Sammy had no idea how Toad would tell anyone), Sammy would just kill him.
“Start walking with me, and I’ll tell you where we’re going,” Sammy said. “Sound fair?”
Toad grudgingly agreed. Sammy kept his word and told Toad about his intent to walk to Wichita, not Topeka, and find a place called Plain Pal or a person named Sedgwick C. Naturally, this only brought up more questions from Toad, questions which Sammy flatly refused to answer. Most of them centered around why they were going to Wichita and how Sammy was able to do the things he did in the N building.
“Okay, what about food?” Toad asked.
“I don’t know,” Sammy answered. “We know they’re onto us. Maybe they know where we were headed, maybe not. But if we steal or do anything to attract attention to ourselves, we’re just helping them find us.”
“I can’t believe you didn’t bring maps,” Toad said as his feet crunched the hard dirt. “That wasn’t very smart.”
“I had maps.” Sammy’s teeth clenched as he spoke. The morning sun was low and its rays shone on them through a canopy of leaves. Sammy hoped for a warmer day than the last. “I wasn’t planning to travel without them.”
“What did they get you for?” Toad asked. “Those guys in the suits.”