by David Archer
Parker laughed. “We sent some people to actually interview some of the folks who knew you when you were younger,” he said, “on the pretense that the interview was related to a possible pardon, or commutation of your sentence. There was one woman who said that she compared you to Mr. Spock, from Star Trek. According to her, you are probably as close to a true Vulcan as the world has ever seen. Do you think she's right?”
Noah grinned. “You're talking about Molly,” he said. “I remember when she started calling me that; it was a long time ago, when we were kids. On the other hand, she got me started watching that show in reruns, and the more I saw Mr. Spock, the more I felt a kinship with him. Over the years, every time there was a new Star Trek show, I looked at the Vulcans to see if I could feel that same kinship, and I usually did. I found it with Mr. Data, too. He was another one who was always trying to figure out how to be human, just like me.”
Parker was nodding his head. “And of course, he thought in terms of logic. He had to, since he was essentially a robot, and I'm certain that's exactly how you’ve felt for most of your life.”
“Like a robot?” Noah asked. “Of course I do. I've literally spent an incredible amount of time sort of meditating, thinking: if this happens, then I must do that. I took a course in computer programming, and a lot of what I've done over the years to try to make myself appear normal could be compared to writing software. I just kept repeating it over and over to myself, until it became automatic.”
The conversation went on for a couple of hours, until Parker finally glanced at the clock. “Well, youngster, I would have to say that this has been one of the most rewarding sessions I've had yet. You're an incredible fellow, and I do wish we could find a way to distill you down into a liquid and pump you into the veins of all the rest of them. However, since we can't do that, I'm going to pass along my recommendation that we do everything we possibly can to get you through the course and into the field as soon as possible.” The old man picked up a pen and scribbled something on to a slip of paper, which he then folded and handed to Noah. “Someone will ask you for this, sometime today. Guard it with your life, because at my age, I could drop dead, and if you don't have that when you're asked for it, then there would be no way to prove that I endorsed you. Without my endorsement, you go before the firing squad, so you really don't want to let that get out of your sight.” Parker sat there and looked at him for another moment, then flicked his fingers as if telling Noah to go. “It's lunchtime,” he said, “and I suspect your escort is waiting impatiently outside for you. Don't keep the poor fellow waiting, he's probably starving. Go get some lunch. We're done.”
Noah grinned, then got up out of the chair. “Thank you, Sir,” he said, and then turned and walked out the door. Marco was waiting in the car, with the door open and one leg propped up on it as he read his book. He pulled his leg in and dog-eared the book as Noah climbed into the passenger seat.
“He give you a pass?” Marco asked.
Noah patted his pocket. “Said he did. Am I supposed to give it to you?”
Marco's eyes went wide. “No way, man, not me. Somebody big will ask you for it, maybe even at lunch. That's when they got mine.”
Noah grinned. “You could've warned me about his little games he likes to play. Lucky for me, I know when to shut up.”
Marco backed the car out of the parking space, and pointed it back toward the restaurant. “Not allowed. I couldn't give you any heads up. If I did, and the dragon lady ever found out, they'd be using me for target practice next week. I like you and all, you seem okay, but I like my ass a whole lot better.”
Noah chuckled, and they rode the rest of the way in silence. It was while they were sitting in the restaurant and having lunch that a short man walked over to their table.
“Marco,” the man said, “why don't you introduce me to your friend?”
Marco had looked up as the man approached them, and grinned. “Sure, Mr. Jefferson. This is Noah, he's new here. Noah, I want you to meet Mr. Jefferson. He works at admin, with the boss lady.”
Noah stood and extended a hand. “Mr. Jefferson, good to meet you,” he said.
“You, too, Noah,” said Jefferson. “I believe Doctor Parker may have given you a note for me?”
Noah glanced at Marco, who nodded once, then took the slip of paper from his pocket and handed it to Jefferson. The man unfolded the paper and glanced at what Parker had written, then looked up at Noah with a big smile.
“Have you looked at what he wrote?” Jefferson asked, but Noah shook his head.
“No, Sir,” he said. “I was curious, but it was handed to me folded shut and I was not told that I was allowed to look at it.”
Jefferson laughed. “That explains a lot. Here, take a look,” he said, holding the paper up so that Noah could read it.
This man Noah will be our Superstar.
Noah glanced up at Jefferson. “Thank you, Sir,” he said.
Jefferson clapped him on the shoulder and walked away without another word, so Noah sat down and resumed eating his roast beef sandwich and fries. He saw Marco looking at him, and shrugged.
“I couldn't help glancing up and seeing what Parker wrote,” Marco said. “He gave you a lot to live up to. Superstar? That's heavy.”
“I don't have a clue what it's supposed to mean,” Noah said. “Didn't really make any sense, to me. How could I be a superstar, and of what?”
Marco paused in the middle of taking a bite of his own sandwich. “Noah, you do know what we do here, right? Our boys and girls kill people, or sometimes they just make people disappear. Seems like Doc Parker thinks you might be the best one yet.”
Noah ate in silence for a moment, then looked up at Marco again. “So, how did you get here? Were you on death row, too?”
“No, but close,” Marcus said. “Third-time loser in California, got my third strike on a breaking and entering charge. Automatic life in prison, and I was only twenty-four. The dragon lady sent somebody in to make me an offer, a chance to have a life again and put my street skills to work doing something good for my country. All it was gonna cost me was everyone I ever loved, but since I was never getting out again any other way, I decided I had really already lost them, anyhow. So I took the deal.” He took a bite and chewed for a moment, as if he was thinking. “I almost flunked out, the first month. I came within a split second of picking up a phone and calling my mother, just to let her know I didn't really die in the riot at the prison. I was sitting in an office, another interview, and the guy got up and walked out. He left me alone in there, and there was a phone on his desk. I thought about it for a few seconds, then picked up the phone and started dialing Mom's number. I got to the last number, and froze up with my finger on the button. Stood there like that for I don't know how long—then I just hung up the phone. A few minutes later, Mr. Jefferson, there, walked in and told me that if I ever tried that again, I'd be eliminated. It was a test, of course, and I almost failed it.”
“I'm glad you didn't,” Noah said. “You seem like a guy I'd like to have covering my back. Maybe we'll get to work together someday.”
EIGHT
When lunch was over, Marco drove Noah to the PT field, which was about half a mile from the area where the motel was, which Marco called Alley Town. He introduced Noah to several of the other people there, including the instructor, who was known only as Jackson.
“You gotta watch out for Jackson,” Marco said. “He's one of the most sadistic SOBs you'll ever meet, anywhere, bar none.”
Jackson, who was standing right there as Marco made his evaluation, laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “That's what makes me so good at what I do, Marco,” he said. “If I recall correctly, you were a skinny beanpole when you got here, but look at you now. You can run ten miles in just over an hour, bench three hundred pounds, and climb a fifty-foot rope with nothing but your hands in under thirty seconds. Think maybe my stubbornness and cruelty have paid off a bit?”
Marco grinned.
“I never said you weren't good at what you do, I just said you were a son of a bitch.” He looked at Noah. “If anybody can get you in shape, Jackson can.”
“I enjoy a good workout,” Noah said. “What's the focus here, on this one? General calisthenics?”
Marco burst out laughing, then turned and walked away, leaving Noah with Jackson and a couple of others who were standing around watching the new guy. Jackson smiled.
“Ever heard of parkour?” Jackson asked, and Noah nodded.
“Yeah,” he said, “that's the stunts you see on YouTube, right? People running up walls and stuff like that?”
“That's close enough for the moment,” Jackson said. “Parkour is about moving from point A to point B as quickly as possible, while using any obstacles in your path to increase the efficiency of your travel. It began as Parcours du combattant, which is French for ‘the Path of the Warrior,’ and was originally developed as training for French special forces.” He looked Noah up and down. “A lot of the new ones we get here have had little or no physical training at all, but I can tell that is not the case with you. Ex-military, right?”
Noah nodded again. “Army, Ranger. Some of our obstacle course training is probably similar.”
“Okay, then,” Jackson said, “just bear this in mind. A lot of the stuff you see on YouTube that's called Parkour really isn't. It's not about flips and stunts, it's about what I said, getting from point A to point B as quickly and efficiently as you can, by using the obstacles in your path as tools to help you reach your objective. I can sum it up really easily, like this. The whole time you're moving, imagine that you're being chased by an invisible creature that makes Freddy Krueger look like one of the Care Bears. If it catches you, you're dead, so it can't catch you. Got it?”
Noah had a huge grin spread across his face. “I got a feeling this is gonna be fun,” he said. “When do we start?”
“Right now,” Jackson said. “Follow me.” He led Noah toward a building that stood beside the field, a two-story concrete structure that might have been some sort of warehouse, and pointed at it. “There are flags hidden somewhere around that building. They could be inside, outside, on top, out behind the building—they could literally be anywhere.” He motioned to one of the other students who were still following along, a young woman. “This is Angie,” he said. “Angie, show Noah how quickly you can bring me one of those flags.”
The girl didn't so much as nod, but suddenly took off running toward the building. She veered off to the right, and for a second, Noah thought she was going to run around it, but then he spotted her true intent. There was a car parked up close to the building on that side, and when she got to it, a single leap took her onto its roof, where she spun suddenly to the left and leaped again. Her hands caught a protruding brick, while her feet contacted the wall for a split second, and then hands and feet worked together to fling her upward. She caught the top ledge of the building, and somersaulted over it, disappearing from view.
Jackson was looking at a stopwatch in his hand. “Twenty-four seconds, and she's on the roof. I think that's her best time yet.”
One of the others, a guy who looked like he might have been all of fifteen, nodded his head. “I think you're right,” he said. “She got mad when I beat her yesterday, so I figured she was gonna try to show me up today.”
Without even looking at the boy who had spoken, Jackson said, “Noah, meet Gary. Gary tends to set the bar on this course.”
Noah was concentrating on the building. Whatever was going on here, he wanted to make sure he was going to develop the necessary skills and muscle tone, so he didn't let himself be distracted, and that's why he saw the flicker of motion through the window on the second floor. “She's inside,” he said. “Second floor, that window.” He pointed at the one he meant.
“Yes, she's working from the top down. Going to the roof first meant that she would have gravity to help her as she moved downward through the building itself. Besides, if there had been opposition inside the building, that would increase the element of surprise for her. Keep watching.”
Noah watched, and a few seconds later he saw another flash of motion, and realized that Angie had literally flown out of a ground floor window at the rear corner of the building. She rolled and came to her feet, still running, and he saw a scrap of yellow fabric in her hand.
Jackson clicked the stopwatch as she slid to a stop in front of him, the yellow flag held out in front of her. “One minute and fifty-nine seconds,” he said. “That was an outstanding time, Angie. Good job.” He turned and looked at Noah. “Noah, there are two more flags somewhere in the building. Do you think you can get one of them as fast as Angie did?”
Noah spun and launched himself into a run, choosing to follow the same path to the roof that Angie had taken. Like her, he leapt to the roof of the car and used it to throw himself at the wall, and caught the same protruding brick that she had used. When he threw himself upward, though, he didn't have quite the momentum that she had enjoyed, and only one hand managed to catch the upper ledge.
For a split second, he thought he was going to lose his grip and fall, but his right foot found purchase on another brick, and he was able to transfer some of his weight to it. That let him bring his other hand up and get a grip on the edge, after which he swung his legs until he got his left foot on the ledge, and then rolled over the top. He landed on his back on the roof, but didn't allow himself to rest. He rolled to his feet, looking around to see how Angie had gotten into the building.
There was no access door on the roof, nothing that could lead down into the building, but he saw what looked like a flagpole on the far edge. There was a sturdy rope hanging down from it, and it was swinging slightly, as if someone had moved it not long before. He ran to it and looked over the edge to see an open window directly below the pole, so he grabbed the rope and threw himself over the edge. His momentum caused the rope to crack like a whip, and then it swung him directly to and through the window opening.
He landed on his feet, ran quickly to the door he saw in the opposite wall, then through it and into a hallway. His eyes were scanning the entire time, and he ran quickly through the hall, looking into every room for the yellow flag. He was just about to move toward the stairs at the end of the hall when he saw a tiny bit of yellow protruding from what looked like a cabinet in one of the rooms.
Into the room and to the cabinet he ran, and as he snatched it open, he saw the yellow flag flutter toward the floor. He caught it in midair, then spotted the open window across the room. He checked his memory of the building, and decided that the window ledge was about eighteen feet above the ground, but he had made bigger jumps than that in the past. He threw himself through the window and spun in the air so that he landed on his feet, still running forward, then didn't slow until he got back to Jackson and the others.
Jackson clicked the stopwatch, and Noah saw Gary and the others all staring at it with their eyes wide.
“One minute,” Jackson said, “and twenty-two seconds. Noah, you just set a new record for this course. I was planning to put you with a beginner group, let you just follow some of them around for a few days, but you just blew that one, Buddy. If you can come up with moves like that your first time, then you belong with this bunch.”
Noah was breathing hard, but he managed to smile. “Get used to it,” he said. “If there's one thing I just can't stand, it's second place.”
Jackson grinned. “Good,” he said, and hooked a thumb at Gary. “This punk needs some competition.” He turned and looked at the kid he'd just called a punk, and grinned. “Gary, why don't you set the pace today. Don't overdo it, remember that not everyone can quite keep up with you, but make sure they get a workout.” He glanced at a wristwatch. “You got eighty minutes, let 'em have it.”
Gary nodded, and threw Jackson a grin of his own. “You got it,” he said, looking at the others and letting his eyes come to rest on Noah. “Try to stay close, okay?”
Gary
took off at a fast jog, and Noah was easily able to keep up. Angie and Marco were right beside him, and the rest of the group was strung out over twenty feet or so, making for an interesting game of follow the leader.
Noah had expected them to go back toward the little concrete building, but Gary took off in an entirely different direction, back toward Alley Town. Noah had noticed several different buildings along the road, but hadn't paid a lot of attention to them. Suddenly, he wished he had.
It wasn't all about buildings, though, which Noah quickly discovered. Gary took off from the road onto a path through the woods, and soon they were leaping over fallen trees, bouncing off of rocks, even swinging on vines as they made their way through the patch of wilderness, but it soon opened up into a cleared area with a number of structures. Many of the buildings in this region were several stories tall, reminding Noah of some downtown district in a typical American city. People were moving about the streets and sidewalks, and there was a considerable amount of vehicular traffic, as well.
“What's this?” Noah asked, and it was Angie who spoke up first to answer.
“Urban sprawl,” she said. “This is the administrative area, where all the offices and such are. A lot of the big shots from Washington come in here, so that's why there's a big hotel and all these office buildings.”
“Yeah,” Marco said, “and it also gives us an urban-type training area. We run mission scenarios here, where we have to deal with opposition by city cops and such.”
Gary suddenly picked up the pace, and Noah and the others had to pour on the speed in order to keep up. They all followed as he climbed over a dumpster onto a semi trailer, then jumped from it onto a window ledge. One by one, they jumped and climbed from one ledge to the one above it, until they were all on top of the building, more than five stories above the ground.