Flight or Fight (The Out of Dodge Trilogy Book 1)

by Scott Bartlett

  The images of people having sex disappeared, replaced by blank white screens. Then black text appeared, repeated on every wall.

  “HI, CARL.”

  “Shit,” Carl said. Evidently the Sleep had worn off.

  “DID YOU THINK YOU’D ESCAPED? DID YOU THINK YOU WERE TAKING A VACATION FROM ME?”

  “Not so much thought as tacitly assumed,” Carl said, trying to keep his voice from squeaking.

  “OH YOU TACITLY ASSUMED DID YOU. I SEE. MMHMMMM. TACITLY ASSUMED, THEN.”

  The hardcore pornography returned, but this time only one audio track played. A female participant was moaning. “Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh.”

  It disappeared once more, and the blank walls returned.

  “REMINDS ME OF THAT TIME WITH YOUR MOM.”

  “Wonderful.”

  “YOU DON’T NEED TO ‘TACITLY ASSUME’ ANYTHING WITH ME, CARL. YOU AREN’T AT SAFETALK.”

  “What should I do, then? What’s your motive for stalking me?”

  “DO I NEED ONE? MAYBE I’M BORED.”

  Carl hoped not. That would make bargaining with this creature very difficult. “Are you some washed-up geezer? A wrinkled husk with nothing left in life but overdeveloped tech skills and bitterness?”

  “WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO BE? I CAN BE WHATEVER YOU DESIRE, CARL. OR MAYBE YOU’D LIKE TO WATCH A VIDEO FROM THE 21ST CENTURY? THEY DON’T MAKE PORN LIKE THAT ANYMORE.”

  It had become so hot Carl wanted to take off his shirt, but he didn’t want to give the creep more material. He tugged at his collar. Another message appeared on the screen, but Carl didn’t bother reading it. He went into the bathroom and splashed some water from the tub onto his face.

  The water shut off immediately in both the tub and the sink. He went back out into the room. The text on the walls now read, “HEY. STOP THAT.”

  “Just freshening up,” Carl said.

  A sucking sound came from the bathroom. The water was draining. Carl dashed back in, dumped the garbage can’s contents onto the floor, and filled it with water from the tub. He brought it out and set it on the floor against the wall.

  “VERY CLEVER! I CAN SEE WHY OFVALOUR CONSIDERS YOU SOOOOOOOO VALUABLE.”

  “Do you know Ofvalour? Are you doing this to hurt him?”

  “OH, I DON’T THINK YOU’RE QUITE THAT VALUABLE. I’M SURE OFVALOUR COULD EASILY FIND ANOTHER CARL INTOEVER TO EXPLOIT. BESIDES, I’VE BEEN TROLLING YOU SINCE WAY BEFORE YOU MET HIM.”

  “That’s true,” Carl said.

  “ALL THE SAME, YOU’VE DONE QUITE WELL FOR YOURSELF.”

  “I appreciate that.” Carl soaked a towel in the water and began dabbing his face.

  “IF YOU KEEP IT UP YOU’LL PROBABLY LEAVE DODGE SOON.”

  “Could be.”

  “SUPPOSING I DON’T WANT YOU TO LEAVE, THOUGH? WHAT IF I THINK YOU’RE TOO MUCH FUN.”

  “I doubt there’s much you could do about it.”

  “I’M PREVENTING YOU FROM LEAVING THIS HOTEL ROOM.”

  “For now.”

  “I GUESS ANOTHER APPROACH I COULD TAKE WOULD BE TO INTERCEPT ALL COMMUNICATIONS FROM MORROWNE AND OFVALOUR, LEAVING THEM WITH THE IMPRESSION YOU’VE COMPLETELY ABANDONED YOUR DUTIES.”

  Carl stopped dabbing. “You bastard!”

  “YOU WOULDN’T BELIEVE HOW SWAMPED THE YOUTH DIGNITY DEPARTMENT HAS BEEN OVER THE LAST FEW DAYS, CARL. AN ABSOLUTE SHITSHOW. IT’S A GOOD THING THEY HAVE GREGORY STRONGER THERE, ISN’T IT? I DON’T KNOW WHAT THEY WOULD DO WITHOUT HIM.”

  Carl ran to the hatch and tugged on it with all his might. He waved his guest pass over the sensor and tugged again. It didn’t budge. The locking mechanism had been overridden, and it would remain engaged until his tormentor told it to do otherwise.

  From behind him Carl heard his own voice, but younger. “Just let me finish this.” When he turned back the walls were all showing the same scene: a dark hellscape, where twisted alien figures lurched from smoking vent to rocky outcrop. Two gloved hands rose into view, and from them white lightning arced out, electrocuting the nearest misshapen creature. It exploded.

  The scene shuddered and then was pulled upward, replaced by a view of a TV room. Carl’s father stood over him, gripping the virtual reality headset he’d been using. “Dinner is ready. I’ve already put it on the table.”

  A teenage Carl reached toward the headset, but his father held it away from him. “Give it back,” Carl said. “I’m going to die if you don’t!”

  Thomas pressed a button. “I paused it. You won’t die. I’ll beat the level for you later if you like.” Thomas had been a big gamer in his youth and had already finished most of the games Carl played.

  “I want to beat it myself.”

  “Fine. Come and eat.”

  Daphne Intoever was already sitting at the table, methodically slicing pork tenderloin into equal-sized cubes. “I’m not sure there’s cause to panic, Tom,” she said. “If Carl wants to eat his dinner cold, let him. I don’t see why we need to make it our business.”

  “I consider it my business to get the family together for dinner.”

  “Leo’s not here,” Carl said.

  “Good point, Carl,” his mother said. “At any rate, I think I’ve had more than enough family togetherness, Thomas. Ever since your father scouted me there’s been ample togetherness.”

  Thomas set down his fork and knife. “Please don’t make these comments around Carl.”

  “Why not? You want him brainwashed, like your father brainwashed you?”

  “My father did not brainwash me. He taught me how important our society’s tradition of equality is.”

  Daphne laughed. “Family phrases are not about equality. They’re about pairing people who are horribly unsuited to each other, so that they’ll take on other lovers. They’re about multiplying the number of relationships, and therefore the amount of consumption.”

  “Well if that’s your concern,” Thomas said, “why don’t you get rid of some of your boyfriends?”

  “I wouldn’t need the boyfriends if I’d married someone I liked in the first place,” Daphne said. She stood up, fetched a container from the cupboard, and dumped the rest of her supper into it. “Speaking of boyfriends, I think I’ll visit one.” Before she left, she turned to her son and said, “Remember this when you get older, Carl. If you’re going to marry for a family name, do it because it’ll help you get out of Dodge quicker, not because you think equality is possible. Because it’s not. The people with privilege will never relinquish their dominance, and if they did there’d just be another dominant group.”

  His mother left, and the scene switched off. The walls became white once more.

  “YOU DON’T WATCH YOUR LIFELOG VERY MUCH DO YOU.”

  Carl didn’t say anything. At some point during the clip he’d sat on the bed and pulled his knees to his chest. He’d wanted to cover his eyes but couldn’t.

  “DID YOU KNOW THAT’S THE MOST RELIABLE PREDICTOR FOR WHETHER TROLLING WILL HAVE A SIGNIFICANT EMOTIONAL EFFECT ON AN INDIVIDUAL? PEOPLE WHO WATCH THEIR OWN PAST THE LEAST ARE THE MOST VULNERABLE TO BEING TROLLED.”

  “When are you going to let me out of this room?”

  “WELL, I DO WANT YOU ALIVE, SO I’LL HAVE TO LET YOU OUT SOON. ON ACCOUNT OF THE FIRE.”

  “Fire?”

  At that moment a deafening klaxon sounded, and it didn’t stop. Carl rushed to the window. To his right, yellow smoke billowed up from below. He turned back to the wall and read the message now on the screen.

  “GUESS THE HOTEL HASN’T UPDATED ITS FIREWALL RECENTLY.”

  “Oh my God.”

  “SO MANY CARELESS GUESTS. LEAVING CLOTHES AND OTHER FLAMMABLE OBJECTS ON TOP OF CURLING IRONS AND SUCH. DON’T THEY KNOW EVERYTHING IS NETWORKED?”

  “Let me out of here!” Carl screamed. “Let me out, you maniac! I’ll hire the best geezers to track you down, and when I find you, I’ll—”

  “ARE YOU SURE THREATS ARE THE BEST APPROACH HERE, CARL? SHOULD YOU BE TRYING TO PROVIDE ME WIT
H A DISINCENTIVE TO SPARE YOUR LIFE?”

  Carl fell to his knees. “Please let me out. Please.”

  “HAHA YOU ARE PATHETIC. THE HATCH HAS BEEN UNLOCKED FOR 90 SECONDS. MORON.”

  Carl leapt up, grabbed his phone, and ran around the room, collecting his clothes to stuff into his suitcase at the bottom of the bed. He didn’t want to have to replace them.

  His room’s access pole was halfway between the hotel’s front and back exits. He chose the front. Running through the vast lobby, suitcase bouncing along behind him, he only saw one place where the fire had crashed down through the floor, far to his right. He would reach the exit long before he encountered any real danger.

  Outside, a bellboy was directing fleeing guests to a muster point across the street. When he saw Carl he stopped him.

  “You’ve taken your personal effects,” the bellboy said.

  “What? Oh.” He looked down at his suitcase. “Yes.”

  “You weren’t supposed to.”

  “Why not?”

  “There was a very clear set of instructions in your room labeled ‘In Case of Fire,’ and they specified that personal effects are to be left behind when evacuating. It’s for your safety.”

  “Oh. I guess I didn’t see it. Sorry.”

  “You’ll have to return them.”

  Carl blinked. “Come again?”

  “I said you’ll have to take your effects back to your room. It’s a grievous offense to disobey fire regulations. You’ll have to go back.”

  Carl stared at the bellboy. “You’re mad.”

  “I’m not. I’m doing my job.”

  “Listen. What if I hid them in that bush over there, and neither of us spoke of them?”

  The bellboy shook his head. “Won’t do. The hotel monitors our lifelogs very closely. I could lose my job. I’m sorry, sir, but you have to take your belongings back into the hotel.”

  Carl looked back. Fire licked out of several windows now, and when he glanced through the door again he saw several more rooms had crashed through to the lobby. He didn’t think the bellboy would have a job for long either way.

  “I’m not going back in there. That’s final.”

  “That’s your business, sir. But if you don’t return your effects to your room, the customer service representatives will arrest you once they arrive.”

  Carl looked at the group of guests gathered across the street, who were all staring at him. None of them appeared to have their bags with them.

  “I hope the hotel falls over on you,” Carl told the bellboy, who then eyed the hotel dubiously and took a step back from it. Carl dashed inside.

  Seconds after entering, the floor of the room above the entrance gave way behind him, and a cascade of fiery furniture tumbled into the lobby. No matter. Carl didn’t plan to use that exit again.

  Rooms were falling through their floors with regularity now, leaving large burning heaps scattered throughout the lobby. They emitted a pure, gray smoke. A bed fell through, followed by a mini fridge, and then a guest, thrashing and screaming, engulfed in flame. There was no helping him. Carl ran on, his sleeve pressed to his mouth, coughing. He passed the access pole to his room.

  It would only be a matter of time before the entire hotel imploded.

  A hatch opened in the ceiling ahead of him, and a large figure slid down the pole, landing clumsily. When Carl drew near enough to see him clearly through the smoke, he saw that it was John Anders.

  “Anders!”

  “Carl!”

  “The front entrance is blocked. Follow me.”

  “You should leave your suitcase,” Anders said.

  “No.” It was a matter of principle, now.

  They continued on. Once, they found their way blocked, and had to backtrack far to the left. Progress was slow, since they were now forced to hunch over as they ran, just to breathe clean air. Threads of fire danced through the smoke. That didn’t seem promising.

  Soon after Carl decided it was certain they wouldn’t make it, they found a way through the fiery barricade and spotted the hotel’s rear entrance. Taking a huge gasp of air, they straightened up and ran toward it as fast as they could, given Carl’s suitcase and Anders’s obesity.

  They stumbled out onto a grassy lawn, and, having put what they deemed a safe distance between themselves and the hotel, collapsed.

  “Did someone hack your room too?” Anders said, breathing heavily.

  “Yes, actually.”

  “Thought so. The person who hacked mine mentioned you specifically. I’m assuming we were both hacked by the same guy.”

  “Could be female.”

  “True.”

  “What did the hacker say to you?”

  “Told me not to give you any more advice or to help you in any way.”

  “So what are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to help you. Message me on Unfurl if he hacks you again. I want to know who this guy is. He didn’t release me from my room until the last second. I might have died. That pisses me off. Message me if he does anything else, and I’ll come help you trace him. I’ll bring my favorite geezer. Maybe Ofvalour will help, too.”

  “Thanks a lot.” Carl stood up. “I better get going. The hacker told me he’s been intercepting my communications. I’m needed back at SafeTalk. If I haven’t been fired already.” He picked up his suitcase off the ground.

  Carl wasn’t going back to SafeTalk because Morrowne needed him. Back in the hotel room, watching the lifelog clip from his childhood that the hacker had forced upon him, he’d realized something: his mother was the real reason he didn’t think anything good was possible in Dodge. She’d ingrained apathy in him since the moment he could talk, emphasizing again and again just how futile everything was. And then she’d left for the New World, abandoning their family. Dodge rewarded orthodoxy and punished dissent, but it had been his mother who’d made it into a philosophy and spoon-fed it to him year after year.

  Carl didn’t want to think like her anymore. He was the messiah, sent to save humankind, and it was absurd to think he could simply take up that project once he arrived in the New World. It was Dodge that truly needed saving.

  He would start by helping his friend Natalie.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Only a couple of hours remained in the workday when Carl arrived back in the city, so he decided to head straight for SafeTalk. Morrowne took him back right away, without any reprobation for his absence. That was purely out of necessity. The Youth Dignity workers’ energy was waning, even with Gregory Stronger driving them to their limits. They needed creative, efficient solutions. They needed Carl.

  Unfortunately they also needed Natalie Lemonade. Gregory had been making use of other Search Department employees, enlisting them in the renewed conflict over FutureBrite’s brand, and while Natalie had taught them well they weren’t her.

  The extended smear campaign against Natalie was not playing well on the social networks, where no one seemed to buy it. The public had been willing enough to subscribe to Chuck Erything’s demonization, but now that Erything was known implicitly to be innocent, people were less willing to believe Natalie was as monstrous as her portrayal in the media. Her strong online following didn’t help matters. Traffic to her blog about FutureBrite corruption had tripled.

  Carl’s friendship with Natalie had not been mentioned in the media, nor had Morrowne’s temporary inability to get in contact with him. In fact, they avoided mentioning anyone who’d been involved in mistakenly fingering Chuck Erything. That surprised Carl, as he’d felt certain that Xavier was prepared to throw him to the media for lunch at the slightest upset. Maybe the Hand really did care about Carl’s divine pedigree.

  Natalie’s ‘mental instability’ was the focus instead, peppered with compromising details harvested from her personal communications. They claimed not to have access to a specific diagnosis for Natalie, due to her therapist’s privacy policy, but that was bullshit. She suffered from depression, which they knew
full well. The reason they didn’t admit that was so they could insinuate she suffered from much more severe issues.

  The work day ended, and he decided to try his luck returning to the house he’d shared with Maria for years. He found her sitting on the TV room couch, using the wall to scroll through her Unfurl feed, and when he entered she looked up at him without expression. “Hi,” she said.

  “Hi,” he replied, feeling wooden. “Listen. I just got back in town and I don’t have anywhere to go except a hotel, where they’d gouge me.”

  “And?”

  “It would save us both money if I moved back in and split the bills with you. Right? So…”

  “You’re getting the couch.”

  “Okay. Yes. Thank you.”

  She returned her attention to the wall, and Carl walked toward the kitchen to sit at the table until she was finished in the TV room, wondering whether this awkward cohabitation truly would be better than living alone.

  He stopped in the doorway. “Have you…do you have Gregory Stronger over here?”

  “I won’t anymore.”

  He nodded, and sat in the kitchen chair closest to the wall, where she couldn’t see him. Lowering his head into his hands, he fought not to cry.

  The next day, Carl tried as best he could to manage the tense atmosphere in Youth Dignity. In the meantime, Gregory was happy to retreat into his office now that Carl was back to deal with their increasingly recalcitrant workers. Carl made it known that anyone heard complaining from here on in would have his or her workload increased. If they didn’t like it, he would happily pass on their concerns to Morrowne. No one wanted their contract terminated.

  He felt glad the public appeared to be siding with Natalie, since it would make keeping her off a prison barge easier. Unfortunately, he had no idea how to go about actually doing it. He wanted badly to help her, but it was his job to destroy her, and quitting SafeTalk wouldn’t make things easier on either of them. The only hope lay in remaining close to the heart of things and waiting for an opportunity to act.