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

by Scott Bartlett

  Carl and Ernest sat out in Rudy’s kitchen, while the tutor worked with Jenny in a room with a computer, down a short hall from the kitchen. Jenny earned her game time today, and Rudy came out to join them as she played. “You’re Carl Intoeverylifeali, right? The SafeTalk representative?”

  “I am.”

  “Thought I recognized you from TV.”

  “I should mention that today one of Jenny’s teachers asked me to spend more time with her, working on her homework—”

  “She asked us all,” Ernest said.

  Rudy and Carl both looked at him, blank-faced.

  “Anyway,” Carl continued, “I was wondering, are we able to access that game she likes from home? Could be useful in motivating her.”

  Rudy shook his head. “It’s proprietary software produced in partnership with the schools and used strictly as a teaching aid. I was extremely lucky to get access myself, and it was a long process. But hey, there are other ways to reward focus and to make lessons fun.”

  Ernest called a cab ten minutes before the session ended, and the next student came in as they were leaving, a thin teenage boy with mousy brown hair and a scowl. Carl couldn’t know for sure whether he was one of FutureBrite’s charges as well, though he was accompanied by a woman who seemed far too young to be his mother.

  Jenny and Ernest descended the pole to the lobby below, and Carl was about to follow when Rudy laid a hand on his shoulder. “I didn’t expect you to be so…engaged,” he said.

  “I take my task here seriously.”

  “I believe you. Listen, if there’s anything I can do to help, let me know.”

  Carl took a deep breath and locked eyes with Jenny’s tutor. He spoke slowly. “Well, Rudy, I’m just looking for information on FutureBrite. You know? For my report. So anything you can think to tell me about FutureBrite…”

  It was the most he could say, given the number of eyes no doubt trained on him at that moment, and the number of ears listening in. Rudy’s expression didn’t change. But Carl thought the tutor understood him on a level that was beneath language. What was more, he felt a kinship with Rudy.

  “Of course,” Rudy said.

  Carl descended the pole and spotted Jenny and Ernest already several poles away. He walked after them, though his feet felt like lead. Four hours remained in his shift, and the thought of what he’d decided to do once it ended made him cringe. He would visit his brother, despite how poorly their last encounter had gone. He would attempt to convince him to take Carl to visit his son. And most difficult of all, he would try to make it appear to his silent audience that it was all part of his research.

  But his audience wasn’t completely silent. His phone rang, and when he took it out he saw the word “SAFETALK” in big white letters.

  He answered. “Hello?”

  “Intoever. Morrowne here.”

  “Yes?”

  “You’re not to accompany the kid to her tutor again.”

  Carl paused. “Can I ask why?”

  “No.” Morrowne hung up.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Growing up, Leo had never been the type of brother to take advantage of his size in order to exercise physical dominance over Carl. But judging by the look on his face when he opened the hatch to see Carl hanging from one of the handles, trying to appear as solemn as he could, he was thinking about making up for lost time.

  “Can I come in?” Carl said.

  “You can. I can’t guarantee it’s a good idea, though.”

  Carl swung up, found his footing, and dusted himself off.

  “What’s he doing here?” Rachel had come to see who was at the hatch.

  What could Carl say? He couldn’t very well explain that he wasn’t actually complicit in FutureBrite’s activities. Morrowne had made that fact clear, if it hadn’t been already. He could only repeat what he’d said before, broach the subject of visiting Riley, and hope that this somewhat calmer circumstance would help his cause. If Morrowne asked why he was visiting his brother about this, he could claim to be researching the other side of the youth care industry—the parents’ side. Maybe he could even work it into a blog post in a way that would be palatable to his employers.

  “I’m here to help, Rachel. Leo, I really am. I need you to trust me.”

  “Why would we trust you?” Leo said, arms crossed.

  “Because I came here. Despite the fact that you attacked me the last time we spoke, I’m here. I have everything to lose by coming to you and nothing to gain.”

  “How do you plan to help us, then?” Rachel said.

  “Can I come in?”

  They studied him a while longer, and then Rachel stepped out of the way. Carl entered the TV room. Empty bottles filled the room, some lying on the floor. A lot of them had their antidotes still attached, meaning that Leo and Rachel hadn’t bothered to take them or had passed out before they could. The place stank.

  He removed a plate from an armchair, placing it on the coffee table, on top of another plate. He sat. Leo and Rachel remained standing.

  “Have you considered trying to get Riley back through sanctioned channels?” Carl asked.

  “Out of the question,” Leo said. “They make you rearrange your entire life.”

  Carl looked around the room. “If you want your son back,” he said, “your life will need some rearranging.”

  “The house wasn’t like this before they took Riley, Carl. I can show you lifelog footage from when it was pristine. Anyway, it’s not just that. FutureBrite demands ongoing access to your lifelog before they’ll even let you see your child, to prove you’re fit to be a parent. And once they get access you can say goodbye to ever getting your kid back. There are people at FutureBrite whose entire job it is to go through parents’ lifelogs and collect dirt on them. There’s no one they can’t build a case against. No one. These kids make them money, so they cling to them till they’re adults and it’s no longer legal to keep them there against their will. There hasn’t been a family to get their child back in fifty years, just like you said.”

  Carl took a deep breath. “You need to give them access, Leo.”

  Rachel snorted. “How do we know this isn’t just research for the blog you’re writing for SafeTalk?”

  “I may have to write about this on the blog. But I assure you—”

  “Get out,” Leo said.

  “Leo.”

  “Get out, Carl. I won’t let you use us to help the people who took Riley. If you don’t leave, I’ll throw you out.”

  Carl stood up. “I don’t intend to use your names on the blog. But I need to write about every aspect of FutureBrite. You want to get your son back, but if you don’t trust me, you won’t. Listen, you’re going to be the first parents in fifty years to get a child back from FutureBrite. I give you my word I will make that happen. I won’t leave Dodge until it’s done.” He had to suppress a cringe, after saying that. If Morrowne had been listening, he could very well be kicked off the project within the hour.

  Leo’s eyebrows were raised, and his mouth was open, as though he’d been about to say something but had forgotten what. He turned to Rachel. “I trust him.”

  She crossed her arms. “I don’t.”

  “He’s my brother, Rachel. I know when he’s telling the truth. He means it. He won’t leave Dodge till we have our Riley back. And Carl really wants to go to the New World.”

  For a time, Rachel said nothing, studying Carl. Then she uncrossed her arms. “I’m starting to feel like I want to get out of Dodge lately, too.”

  Carl could feel the tension in the room lessening. “Let FutureBrite access your lifelog. In the short-term, it will allow you to see him again. In the long-term, it’ll lead to getting him back home. Schedule the appointment to visit him after business hours, so that I can come too.” He walked toward the porch and then paused, glancing over his shoulder. “Before you do any of that, though, you should give this place a thorough cleaning.”

  When he arrived back at
his residence complex, he found a rep waiting on the sidewalk just outside the lobby entrance. It was Spenser. He’d let his red hair grow out somewhat, enough that Carl could see it would be curly if it got much longer.

  “Good evening, Intoever,” he said. “Or, Intoeverylifeali now, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” Carl said hesitantly. He didn’t remember Spenser being this polite. “To what do I owe the honor?”

  “Is there anywhere we can speak in private?”

  “You tell me.”

  The rep chuckled. “Good point. Here should do, honestly. As long as no one approaches us. I’ll shut off both our lifelogs for the moment.”

  “Okay,” Carl said, though he didn’t like this. A break in his lifelog would likely get Morrowne’s dander up. But he knew better than to argue with a rep.

  “Listen, Carl. I can call you Carl, right?”

  “Sure.”

  “I’ve been watching what you’re doing with the FutureBrite report. And frankly, I’m impressed.”

  Carl raised his eyebrows. He’d never heard of a rep complimenting anyone. Their attitude toward pretty much any resident was usually one of unwavering suspicion. “Thanks.”

  “I’ve also been watching the way your superiors are treating you. Ordering you not to accompany your charge to the tutor. Not trusting you to do your job correctly. And I find that disgusting.”

  “Um,” Carl said.

  “You’re doing the public a service. And still, you’re treated like this. It’s times like this when I wish something would just give. You know? Something needs to give here in Dodge, to change. Drastically. Do you agree?”

  Carl knew better than to agree with anything so radical, even coming from the mouth of a customer service rep—especially coming from one. “So…the purpose of your visit would be…”

  “Nothing. I just wanted to say that I appreciate the work you’re doing. Keep it up, okay?” Carl thought Spenser looked a little disappointed, but the man slapped him on the back and walked up the street to a waiting cruiser. He got in and peeled away, not looking back at Carl.

  Carl watched him go, blinking. That had been quite odd.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  A storm hit the evening after Jenny’s court hearing, one severe enough that residents were advised against leaving their homes. As a result, the night staff couldn’t make it, and Brianna and Ernest had to stay another twelve hours. Carl wasn’t needed, but he decided to stay too. CabLab taxis were amphibious and capable of entering the lobby through a special entrance to pick you up right at an access pole. But they charged extra for it, and the residence complex charged to open the entrance. So Carl would stay, documenting yet another hardship FutureBrite caregivers faced on a regular basis.

  A sense of defeat followed him everywhere now, like a hateful shadow. It had been one week since his first shift with Jenny, and the only progress he’d made here was the sort that served SafeTalk and FutureBrite. His whole plan played right into Morrowne’s and Xavier Ofvalour’s hands, which was likely why they’d let him go ahead with it in the first place. FutureBrite really had needed some help recovering from the Natalie debacle, and now public polling showed the corporation’s reputation growing stronger than ever.

  He hadn’t even succeeded in getting Jenny to focus on her schoolwork. And despite accompanying Leo and Rachel on several visits to Riley, he’d learned nothing useful. Worst of all, Natalie would be on a prison barge in less than three weeks, and he hadn’t made any headway in proving Jonathan Trangebe’s nonexistence.

  What ends had he really expected to achieve, other than corporate ones?

  The previous night, after he’d arrived home to plop himself onto the couch and scroll through Unfurl posts, he came across Maria’s lingerie ad again. It stirred up feelings of resentment and sadness, but it also made him realize how much he missed her, in spite of everything.

  Jenny’s bedtime was half past nine every night. Carl, Brianna, and Ernest were sitting in the office an hour before that, silently digesting the news that their twelve-hour shift had just turned into a twenty-four-hour one, when Jenny appeared at the door and asked Carl to come and play Chess with her.

  She loved Chess, and she liked playing with Carl best. He suspected the reason was that he, unlike the others, never let her win. She hadn’t beaten Carl once, though she tried two or three times every shift. He suspected Jenny sensed it when the others gave her the victory, and therefore the games didn’t feel real. A few of the caregivers had teased him about clobbering a twelve-year-old in a board game, and he chuckled when they did. But it wouldn’t feel right, not trying. His father had always tried when he’d played games with him as a child. He’d had no victories against him then, and not many more when he reached adolescence.

  So when Jenny sat across from him with her features set in concentration, he gave it his all. And tonight, he lost.

  Or at least, he was losing. Genuinely losing. She’d taken most of his pieces, and in a few moves she’d have him in check mate, if she pressed on.

  Then she gave up. “I’m bored,” she said, and turned on the TV.

  Carl blinked. “But we’re almost done.”

  “I don’t want to play anymore.”

  “You were about to win.”

  She shrugged.

  “I wasn’t letting you win. You were really about to beat me.”

  “Sure.”

  Did she not believe him? Had she become so used to pretend victories that, on the verge of an actual one, she assumed it was fake and lost interest?

  “Come and get me if you want to finish the game before bed, then,” he said.

  “Okay.”

  He went back into the office, leaving the pieces where they were. Brianna looked up from her smartpad and smiled. “How’s her mood?”

  “Nothing out of the ordinary.” Jenny’s time in court hadn’t seemed to have made much of an impact on her.

  “Thank you for taking so much time to engage her. You’re really good with her.”

  “No problem.”

  “Do you have kids?”

  He shook his head. “Children get in the way of plane tickets.”

  The afternoon court session had seemed a bit farcical to Carl. Jenny was the youngest in a parade of youth, whose infractions varied. Carl wondered how many of them were FutureBrite kids.

  Allison attended the hearing, since she was the one Jenny had assaulted, but she wasn’t called on to give testimony. When the Air Earth-appointed judge’s attention turned to Jenny, she stared at the floor and said nothing beyond responding in the affirmative to the judge’s questions, which concerned whether Jenny understood what she’d done, and what the consequences were. “Normally, Ms. Aprilsho, we would take a DNA sample from you and keep it on file,” the judge said, adjusting her glasses. “Since you are so young, however, and this is your first offense, we won’t this time. If I see you here again I will take the sample, no matter how old you are. As it stands, once a month you will have to meet with a probation officer who will ask your caregivers about the progress you’re making with your anger issues. We want to hear you’re making good progress. Okay?”

  “Yes,” Jenny said.

  After the hearing they had to wait in a small chamber outside the courtroom before they were cleared to go. Here, Brianna explained to Jenny how lucky she was that the judge wasn’t taking her DNA sample. “That would have gone on your record,” Brianna said, and Jenny’s face remained passive. “Plus, they do it with a needle.”

  Jenny’s eyes widened. She hated needles.

  As they exited the enormous Air Earth complex—which contained one hundred and thirty-seven courtrooms, Carl had learned—Jenny asked if they could go for ice cream. Brianna and Charlie looked at her in disbelief, but Allison burst into derisive laughter. “Why do you think you’re here exactly, Jenny? Do you think you’ve done something good? Do you think you’re here to be rewarded?”

  The day Jenny had assaulted Allison she’d been wor
king with Ernest, who had gone out shopping for groceries. Lifelog footage had been submitted to the court as evidence, but only the judge had seen it. Other than that, only Allison and Jenny knew what had transpired that day. And probably some FutureBrite office staff, Carl supposed.

  He didn’t doubt that Jenny had assaulted Allison. The police had found Jenny using a rock to punch holes in the locked office door, with Allison barred inside. The part Carl doubted was that the assault had been unprovoked—a spontaneous incident, as Allison claimed, and which the court seemed willing to endorse. He’d seen Allison lord the upcoming court date over Jenny multiple times, using it as leverage, and now that Jenny had been placed on probation Carl expected Allison to start using that.

  Brianna and Ernest went to sleep around midnight, each taking a couch in the TV room, the storm a dull roar above their heads. Once they’d been asleep for an hour, Carl accessed the office workstation and found that Brianna hadn’t logged out of her account. As a result, he had full access to every report ever written on Jenny since she’d been taken from her family…both daily reports and incident reports.

  He searched for incident reports written by Allison, and found she’d written twenty-six. Curious, in another tab he ran a search for each of Jenny’s other caregivers. None of them had written more than five.

  He was able to quickly locate the report Allison had written on the day of the assault. Unsurprisingly, it gave the version of events that had been accepted in court. Jenny had attacked Allison without provocation. Jenny had said nothing to contradict this. But then, everyone around her constantly told her she behaved badly. With her caregivers, the FutureBrite office, and even the law presenting a united front against her, he doubted the thought of trying to defend herself even occurred to her.

  His phone rang, causing him to leap out of the office chair with a guilty start, his knees banging against the underside of the desk. He muted the phone, straining to listen for a rustling in the TV room that would signify Brianna getting up to see what he was doing. But no such sound could be heard, and his phone was still ringing, so he answered it.