Seneca Rebel (The Seneca Society Book 1)

by Rayya Deeb

  "I'll take it from here."

  Dom gave Eric a little nod barely concealing his annoyance, and then turned to me. "You're in good hands with Eric here. He knows his boots."

  And just like that, Dom turned his attention to stocking the shelves.

  "What are you, a seven? Eight?"

  "Seven and a half."

  "Baddabing! Let me get you the right size. Take a seat here and I'll be right back." Eric disappeared into the back room.

  Dom looked over at me and mouthed, "Sorry."

  I mouthed back, "It's okay." Just being around Dom made me feel strong. Confident. I kept my eyes locked on his. The magnetism was just the same as the first moment I’d seen him. Then, I wanted to know him. Now, I wanted him to know me... again. He squinted a little and bit the inside of his lip. Our moment lingered, but then he went back to what he was doing without giving me a second glance.

  I didn't know how much more of this I could take. I watched him working diligently at his job. Whatever he did, he did with all of his heart. Not even a week ago, he was fully dedicated to the unearthing of an evil within our society and now, he brought the same concentration to meticulously stacking shoeboxes was his world.

  Eric brought out the boots and helped me put them on. They were actually perfect. And Dom had picked them out for me. "I'll take 'em."

  I left the store wearing the boots. Dom never gave me a wave or anything. It hurt, even though I knew it wasn't about me.

  40

  THERE WAS A bus stop with a bench a half a block down from Berserk Boots. I would wait forever if it took that long for Dom to get off work. Fortunately, I was comfortable in my new, old sweater and my new boots chosen by Dom but I was still pretty anxious. The bus shelter was packed, so I had to wait for the next bus to come and that crowd to go, before I could snag a seat. I sat there for two hours and didn't take my eyes off of the shop door. As the wind picked up, it howled between the skyscrapers like coyotes back home in the canyons.

  I let my mind drift to the steep, dusty terrain at Will Rogers State Park, where my Dad and I used to hike together at sunset. Even though remembering my dad made me sad, it brought me fortitude. He always had inspired me to overcome my fears. He'd climb ahead up a steep trail and then turn back to help me up, not by offering a hand, but with words. He empowered me to believe in myself. "Turn your feet sideways as you climb and lean forward. Make sure you get a grip with your feet before each step you take." He knew I could do it before I believed I could. And then I would try. Before I knew it I was up. When we got to the top of the trail, we were rewarded with an unending panorama of the Pacific. The curvature of the earth grounded me. It made me feel alive and revived.

  At seven on the dot, Dom came out. I jumped up and let out a yelp of excitement. A few people at the bus stop gave me funny looks, but I couldn't have cared less.

  Dom headed south and I tracked him from the other side of the street. As soon as there was a break in traffic, I skipped across to his side. He moved fast, with a "places to be" sort of stride, but he couldn't have kicked me off his trail if he’d tried.

  I was about fifteen feet behind him, clutching my flexer, eager and ready to make my move. I was in the zone. Even the chaotic urban soundscape didn't throw me off. In fact, it played to my energy. I was exhilarated. My new boots hit the sidewalk in sync with each heartbeat. The wind had picked up even more and deep-sea blue washed the salmon-colored sky away as twilight rolled in. The moon rose in the east as the sun slid beyond the skyline on the opposite side of the Brooklyn Bridge.

  Dom flipped his hoodie up as he hit the walkways on the bridge. We trekked straight down the middle, elevated slightly above the automobile traffic. I picked up my pace, just a few people behind him now. My entire body vibrated, my vision blurred with each thump of my heart.

  Dom stopped in his tracks. The flow of foot traffic kept up around him like he was a rock in rapids. I came to a halt. He spun around. I was busted. But I wanted to be. I needed to be. My muscles relaxed. Here we were. Car horns, engine noises, footsteps, the flowing East River, boats cutting through the water below us, a helicopter in the distance... it all faded away as Dom stared me down, taking a particularly long beat on my boots before returning to my eyes.

  "It's you."

  "It's me." I took a step towards him. He took a step back.

  "Why are you following me?"

  "I know this is going to sound crazy, but you and me– we actually know each other."

  "No, not crazy at all." His words didn't match his body language.

  I grinned at his sarcasm that I had missed so much and took another step towards him.

  "Not another step!"

  "Okay, understandable request– please just hear me out."

  "Fine, but from right there."

  It was as if the old paranoia I’d seen in the early days was still alive somewhere, inhabiting a different part of his brain.

  "Your parents must love having you home. Are they still involved with the anti-whaling movement?"

  His eyes and lips scrunched up. "What do you know about my parents?"

  "I know they love you enough to let you go to Japan for school. I know they fight for what they believe in, and you get that from them. It's really admirable."

  "Alright, you're really creeping me out right now."

  There was a degree of humor to his confusion, while at the same time it really wasn't funny at all. And I was scared. Was my attempt at removing the memory block going to work, or would it all be a grand failure right here on the Brooklyn Bridge?

  "I hope I can change that."

  I slowly lifted my flexer. Dom watched me intently. His body tightened, on guard. My fingers were numb from the cold, but the rest of my body burned up. My feet tingled and itched, my legs shook. I could see my breath in the air, coming in hard, quick spurts. Dom's was much more controlled as he consciously breathed through his nose. The coding was set to go on my flexer. All I needed to do now was give the command, and the memory block that had been placed on him would be removed. I looked at my flexer screen and tapped the purple "enter" symbol.

  My screen went blank. And then it read, "**command accepted**." I slowly looked up.

  Dom's bottom lip hung slightly open. The awareness in his eyes, pinned to mine, deepened by the second. He tilted his head ever so slightly and pulled his lips together. They quivered. In my humble little existence, this felt like The Big Bang. It was as if I stood on the verge of a whole new universe being created. Would we inflate into a cosmic singularity or would everything vanish permanently into a black hole?

  I didn't say a word but waited as something organic and true brewed before me in that one-of-a-kind spongy sphere located between Dom's two ears.

  He was fixated on me as tears welled up in his eyes. Then he came towards me, and before I even had a chance to blink, his lips were pressed against mine. I closed my eyes and didn't move, paralyzed– in a good way this time, a really good way. The ruckus around us vanished. His cold hands tempered the heat that radiated from my face and I fell into a wave of electricity. This kiss was voltaic. My head spun. My stomach dropped. Energy traveled fiercely between our lips. But we were still. And then his bottom lip trembled against mine. I pushed in more, to comfort him. Our lips fused into one, and I was only reminded that we were two separate beings when his hands slowly spread wide across my face and slid down to my shoulders. He pulled me into his enveloping universe, his arms around me. The seal between our lips came undone in slow motion. My eyes were still shut, as I hung onto that moment with every piece of me. His breath was short and quick. I raised my hand up to his chest, our foreheads pressed together. His heartbeat was even faster than mine. I kept my hand there as it slowed. He moved his cheek against mine and he whispered, "Thank you."

  41

  THIS MOMENT WITH Dom and me on the Brooklyn Bridge was exactly why they say you should be in "the now." Neither the past nor the future mattered. But, moments like that, feel
ings like that, have to be fleeting. We couldn't expect the world to stop for our passions to unfold. So, it was time to tell him everything. I didn't know where to begin. He did–

  "How did you find me?"

  "After you were banished to the Aboves, I had to do something. I had to figure out what they were computing with those blood nanobots. I snuck back into your lab, and S.O.I.L. caught me, but not before I found my way into the mainframe. Not just to your data, but to everyone’s in Seneca."

  "You're incredible."

  Dom wasn't shocked. He was impressed.

  I started to blush as a new realization dawned on him, "My flexer."

  "Don't worry, I re-routed our flexers to piggyback randomized flexers. We're good."

  He looked over my shoulder. I saw a terror in his eyes, and turned to see two men running down the bridge, straight towards us. We weren't good. They weren't in blue, but we knew they were S.O.I.L. I looked back at Dom. He was peering down at the road below– two matte black SUVs were right below, trailing us. He grabbed my hand and we took off towards Brooklyn.

  "Stay with me!"

  I grasped his hand tight, weaving through throngs of foot traffic on the bridge. The SUVs cruised right alongside us. I turned to look behind us. S.O.I.L. was closing in. We were no physical match for what were probably two former Navy Seals.

  "Don't look back! Just keep up with me, Doro!"

  No choice but to rally my hidden inner-athlete. Wait, there wasn't one. I had to trust Dom to get us out of here. We were nearing the end of the bridge when he abruptly stopped. A matte black flighter hovered ahead of us. Dom looked back, the S.O.I.L. officers were twenty-five yards away, sprinting toward us at full speed. "Hold my hand, don't let go."

  I looked down. It was a really long daredevil drop to the water. It seemed like our only option. Beads of sweat beaded along my hairline and trickled down my temples.

  "Come on!" Dom hollered as he clambered up onto a steel plank that extended above the roadway below. "Watch your step." I followed, petrified. Now I was in a full body sweat. I had always prided myself on being gutsy, but this was way out of my league. If we fall, we die. I wasn't ready to die. "You got this, Doro!"

  We were directly above the Brooklyn Bridge traffic that moved at roughly twenty miles per hour. My heart raced, my adrenaline cranked.

  "It's now or never."

  He wanted me to jump.

  "You're kidding, right?"

  "Do I look like I'm kidding?"

  I tightened my grip on his hand. The S.O.I.L. officers closed the gap, now ten feet away, "Stop where you are!"

  "1-2-3 go!" He bellowed.

  We jumped! As we crashed onto the road below, cars swerved to dodge us. Dom took my shoulders and forced me behind him, protecting me from oncoming traffic. I screamed bloody murder. Not in a million years, or even my craziest dreams, did I picture myself doing something this insane. I clenched my eyes closed as the sound of horns zooming by freaked me out. I desperately wanted it to end.

  "I got you, Doro! Stay with me!" I put all my trust in him, but that didn’t stop the sheer terror I felt. I could conquer any computation system, but this physical test was too much. I was standing in the middle of oncoming traffic, on top of a bridge, in the looming darkness. What was next? I couldn’t keep myself from crying.

  "Okay, focus! Look at me, Doro, look at me!"

  I looked up at him through the haziness of tears streaking down the side of my face. My mouth was dry and lips chapped from the force of wind. Dom darted his eyes to the plank where we had just stood. The S.O.I.L. officers weren't walking out onto it like we so recklessly had. Instead they peered down at us as they communicated to someone on a flexer.

  Dom shouted so I could hear him, but he was calm. "Run as fast as you ever have."

  "I can't!"

  "You can! Just hold my hand and stay on this yellow line." His look channeled courage my way. I gritted my teeth, forced myself to stop crying and let out the most unattractive, guttural call for power. I heard my dad's voice reminding me I had this, and knew I could do this on my own. I didn't need his hand, but I kept our grip because I wanted him to know he had my trust. We ran full steam ahead between the lanes of oncoming traffic.

  Cars screeched out of the way. People yelled from their windows, but nothing could stop us. An irate man jumped out from a driver's seat, "Are you kids insane?!"

  I was riding my adrenaline now.

  We ran the way we’d come, back into Manhattan. Dom slowed to a stop. He kept a hold of my arm. I was amped up. "Ahhh! That was the craziest thing I've ever done!"

  "We're just warming up!" Dom's tenacity ignited me.

  We both turned at the sound of wheels screeching. The two SUV's were coming back down the bridge against oncoming traffic, smashing into any car that didn't move out of their indignant path. The S.O.I.L. men on foot were trying to push through dense foot traffic to get back down the bridge too.

  We scanned our surroundings.

  The matte black flighter swooped in and hovered just above us. A suicide door lifted on the shotgun side. It was Gregory. Dangerously deadpan, he shouted out above the din, "You're wasting your energy."

  My last meeting with Gregory certainly hadn’t been the most pleasant, and now it couldn't have been more glaring that his mission was to mute us permanently.

  "And you're wasting your time," I retorted, nudging Dom to follow me. I bolted down onto the bike and footpath that ran along the bank of the East River, and away from Gregory.

  The rising lights of the city illuminated our path on the greenway. The trees still held just enough fall foliage of deep orange, magenta and maroon to block the flighter's view, and we had lost the SUVs– we thought. We hoped. One mile down, we panted for breath.

  We reached a bumping barbecue of about thirty young professionals, eating, drinking and having a good time and tried to blend in with them— not the easiest task when you’re in the fight of your life. The flighter was just overhead. In a desperate effort to camouflage ourselves further, Dom and I dove down and huddled beneath one of the recycled plastic picnic tables speckled along the river. The flighter continued along the path down the river. For a few seconds we thought we were in the clear, but then it stopped about a hundred yards down from where we crouched and just hovered there.

  "Looks like we got us some underage party crashers!" Leave it to a drunk guy in a suit to call us out. We looked like a couple of jail-breaking orphans hiding under that picnic table. A few people laughed and offered us beers. Others told us to get lost.

  The flighter busted a U, apparently figuring that we couldn’t have made it in the other direction. It began to creep back our way.

  I spotted a gas station through the trees across the street. "I have an idea, come on!"

  Dom and I gave one another quick nods and climbed out from under the picnic table. He grabbed a freshly opened bottle of water right out of a guy’s hand–

  "Hey!"

  And we ran.

  We made it to the station. Sharing the water, we looked back to see the flighter landing alongside the barbecue on the riverbank.

  Every pump at the gas station was in use. I scanned each one and picked up on the oldest car in the lot– a little white Toyota Prius from just after the turn of the millennium.

  "Oh man." Dom said. His attention was on people from the barbecue who pointed in our direction. Gregory was there, standing outside the flighter, looking at the gas station through night vision binoculars. We ducked down behind the Prius.

  "Psst, hey!"

  A guy in his late twenties put the gas nozzle back on its pump. "Nope, sorry, don't have any money. Isn't that obvious?" He motioned to his old clunker. It was worth its weight in gold to Dom and me.

  "Let me change that." I reached into my backpack and pulled out the wad of cash.

  The stranger's eyes widened incredulously. "Whoa," he and Dom exclaimed in unison.

  "What's it worth to you?"

  "W
ell I paid almost a grand for it six months ago, and just spent three fifty filling up, sooo..."

  "How's five grand?"

  42

  THANK GOODNESS THE car was automatic, because I’d only driven a few times before. With Dom in shotgun I pushed away from the gas station in an automotive relic that reeked of stale corn chips and dirty old coins. It was nowhere near as fun as piloting a flighter, but it was the perfect disguise for us. S.O.I.L would never imagine us driving at all, no mind in a vintage heap like this.

  "Which way to the closest tunnel out of Manhattan?"

  "Bust a right."

  My vision was glued to the road in front of me and nothing else. I left navigation and S.O.I.L. lookout duty entirely up to Dom. He sat forward in his seat, rubbed at his buzz cut and examined the streets and skies in every direction. "They're tracking us, Doro. It may feel okay now, but this can't end well for us."

  "Whoa, hold on. It's not over yet–"

  "I wish I could believe we have a chance, it’s just that I know what they're capable of."

  "Don't worry, I have a plan."

  "Oh yeah? You gonna share? Take a left."

  I took a left into tunnel traffic stopped dead. I hit the breaks hard and fast. "Easy!" Dom smashed into the dash– he wasn't wearing a seat belt.

  "Sorry. Just getting the hang of this whole driving thing."

  "Awesome. Perfect timing for driver's ed."

  "Right?"

  He put his seatbelt on and braced himself in the seat with a smirk– an absolutely, mesmerizing smirk. As much as I wanted to get moving as fast as possible, being stuck there meant that my sore eyes could get a recharge on Dom.

  Something in that moment felt so incredibly good. It was the first relaxed moment we’d shared since laughing together on the floor in his secret sushi lab. Mojo sticking might have its followers, but this was all I needed– just Dom, me, and a little bit of laughter. Oh, and another kiss wouldn't hurt.

  There were no shady matte black flighters or SUVs anywhere in sight. That gave me the peace of mind I needed. For now. I stared down a square barrel of geometrical genius– the Brooklyn-Battery Tunnel. We inched our way in with the droves of gridlocked commuters. It was like entering a civil engineering time warp. Other than the cars that passed through it and the lighting power source, nothing had changed since it was built, circa the mid 1900's.