Justin bit back any kind of sound as he climaxed, catching as much of his come as he could with his free hand, his rapid breathing beginning to slow, his eyes becoming aware of his surroundings in the darkness.
Damn. He needed that. Deserved it, after what his body had been through. The rationale didn’t completely alleviate the twinge of guilt, though. This was a forbidden fantasy, one he shouldn’t be having.
But the guilt wasn’t strong enough to hold back the exciting and impossible thought. One day, maybe….
Chapter 5
JUSTIN PULLED off the freeway at the Racine exit that led to the train station, Charlie barely fitting on his left knee and Ginny in the passenger seat. The rising sun actually made the fields of barbed wire pretty, the points glinting, coiling around like an iron briar patch into the distance. Scenes like this were plentiful around the Great Lakes, particularly in the semipopulated areas. Racine had many raised farms, and the farms required workers. While people out here lived closer to the ground, they at least lived in fenced communities with a level of protection.
Women were even more outnumbered outside of the largest cities.
“Makes me nervous bringing you out here.” Justin kept his eyes on the road, unable to see her because his hoodie was pulled so far forward.
“Phht.” She had this way of popping air out of her mouth whenever she thought someone was acting foolish. He felt a blast of air on his cheek from Charlie, who was obviously mimicking her. Apparently they both thought he was being stupid.
“It’s not cute when you act like the oldest,” she said. “Besides, I can shoot straighter than you.” He heard her cock the gun but knew she wasn’t pointing it at him. “A lot straighter.”
Probably wasn’t pointing it at him.
“Justin, if you want to worry about me, then worry that I might fall into a puddle facedown, break my arms and legs, and the only way to save myself from drowning would be to drink all the contaminated water. That’s ovarian cancer for sure.”
“You’re definitely staying in the truck.”
“Can’t shoot a puddle, so fine.”
Oncoming traffic thickened, and Justin scooted Charlie forward on his knee. Good thing the kid was small for his age or he might not fit. Justin had makeup on his healing skin, but his injuries were still obvious. The gash on his jaw was open and red in the center, though puckered and healing from the sides. He’d decided a bandage would be too conspicuous, and the hoodie hid most of it. Taking the train would have been too risky. So they had the semi, or as Gin liked to call it, the Fully Erect Penis, because calling it a semi when you delivered condoms wasn’t exactly good for business.
They’d told Ray that Gin would be at home with Charlie today, so Justin had picked up the truck early to supposedly catch up on his routes. They could have taken their small family car, but the truck kept him high and less visible to traffic. In the unlikely event someone looked up at him, Charlie on his knee blocked the window on the driver’s side, and Gin was the focus on the passenger side. So far no one had paid Justin any mind. He’d just have to make it mostly unseen from the truck into the station where he hoped the meeting would be out of the way. Why the hell had Scarecrow wanted to meet at the train station anyway?
“I just want this to be over,” Justin said.
Gin squeezed his leg. “I’m nervous too. Scared as hell, actually.” She said it like it was a fact, not an emotion.
She had checked their communication point twice since the Fray. It was at a half-burned house in the central city. Nothing. No cash. No new arrangements. It could be the wrong location. They’d found the communication point only because Gin had kept an eye on Joe. She’d weaseled her way into his complex, into a neighbor’s place for a couple nights. Gin knew a lot of people, had even gotten friendly with the doorman—which had come in very useful the night Joe died, but Justin wouldn’t think about that night, and didn’t want to think about what she had to do to spend any of the other nights there. She said she cashed in a couple favors owed to her, and Justin could usually tell when she was lying. It was one of their twin superpowers or something. Even though she’d been in a good position to follow Joe, maybe he had known she was running surveillance. Maybe he had deliberately led her to the wrong place.
Probably not, though. It was the right house. The people behind Shadow Fray—the Shadow Masters—they didn’t deal with Brawlers. They had their own men. Men like Joe. Men like Scarecrow.
Fucking rat bastards.
Closer to the city of Racine, the sky filled with drones. Justin wasn’t worried about these drones, though. Racine was barely big enough to have its own drones. No—these would be corporate drones guarding the farms, and they were thick as flies on a corpse. Talk about overkill. A starving Groundling would have to be out of his mind to attempt to steal. Corporate drones didn’t even shoot bullets, but a powerful tase could easily kill someone who wasn’t healthy to begin with. It must happen frequently enough for the Corporates to go through all the trouble.
“Whose fields are these?” Justin asked Gin.
“I don’t know. Exxon, I think. Why?”
“Maybe we should be more concerned about which company we get our food from.”
Gin shrugged. “You know what they say. If it’s green, it’s clean. And anything is better than powdered bug protein.” He glanced at her as she made a face, though decent powder was mostly flavorless. “Why do you suddenly care? Are you worried about the money?”
True, they always went with food that was in season, and whatever was closest was usually the cheapest. Where it came from was never their concern. Dow, Exxon, DuPont—they were all the same. Really, though, he was thinking about Charlie’s letter and figuring this shit out so people could actually grow food on the ground again. But who was he kidding? Justin punched stuff. He was no farmer, no scientist. But maybe it was time to start thinking about which company was better, for Charlie’s sake.
“Charlie’s going to be going to one of those corporate colleges someday. Maybe we should start paying better attention. Do a little research.”
Justin glanced down to see Charlie smile at him. Gin reached over to pull Charlie’s cap down over his eyes, teasing. “True enough,” she said, “but research is your department. You do books, I do people. I’ll just put my stamp of approval on whatever you two decide. And remember—I have total veto power. I’m the oldest.”
“But I’m commanding officer,” Justin said, smiling. “My muscles are bigger.”
“My boobs are bigger. They are far more powerful a weapon than your mere muscles.”
Charlie snorted, but Justin couldn’t hold his own smile long. As the train station came into view, the pleasurable conversational diversion gave way to a sinking feeling in his gut, fanciful dreams replaced by the reality of the world outside the windshield.
They all became silent.
After pulling into the train station, he parked the rig in one of the loading zones. With no air travel, trains were heavily used for passengers as well as goods and produce. Plenty of other trucks were pulling in, pulling out, or parked. Justin tried to tell himself it was good for the place to be busy. He’d be able to blend in more easily.
He left the truck running and took a deep breath. Charlie turned and put his arms around Justin’s neck, pressing his forehead and nose against him. So soft. So delicate. It was soothing.
“Thanks, Bro Bro.”
He looked at Gin and could see fear only in the clench of her jaw, her eyes showing nothing but resolution and support. “Hold your hood getting out of the truck,” she said. “Might be windy.”
“Thanks, Gin.”
“And remember—no matter what, we can always bail.”
He nodded, and with that pushed out from under Charlie, opened the door, and exited the truck. He wouldn’t count on being able to bail, not anymore. He was in too deep, had too many views.
He was stuck, so this better go well. It had to.
H
ALE TOOK a breath, put his game face on, and rapped hard on the door three times.
Jess answered almost immediately, in a red dress and light makeup. She looked remarkably well put together for 7:00 a.m., but then she always did. She and Benz both—him with his suits and her with her dresses. After all this time, he honestly didn’t know if it was part of who they were or if they were dressing like Uppers.
“Hi, Hale, come on in.”
“Thanks,” he said, deciding to take his hands out of his pockets. It was the only formality he could offer. He was wearing jeans with a black T-shirt under his vintage leather jacket. He wasn’t going to dress up or anything, but her opinion of him did matter.
“Edna’s in the kitchen. If you want eggs and toast, feel free to make yourself some breakfast.”
“Maybe some coffee.”
“There’s that too.”
She was making more direct eye contact than usual. Something was up. “Everything okay?” he asked.
“More or less. When Benz came in, he said you’ve been assigned a new Fray. The order came in last night.”
It was strange Benz hadn’t given him a heads-up with a text. “Did he say how long?”
“Two weeks.”
“And the Arena?”
“He doesn’t usually tell me where—the less I know and all that. But he didn’t seem concerned or anything.”
Hale nodded. He and Benz would talk when Benz woke up. Benz typically didn’t get home until sometime after 4:00 a.m. The guy must have been exhausted, maybe had a rough night. This didn’t explain the weird vibe Hale was getting from Jess, though. He sensed she had more to say, so he waited.
“He also said something else,” she said, shifting her tone.
“Oh?”
“He said they have a place opening up by the club. That building he talked to you about.”
“Oh.”
“You’d have to move on it quick. I just wanted to let you know.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
She smiled at him, a closed-mouth smile that he thought showed a measure of sympathy. “Benz will tell you more later. That’s all I know. We don’t talk too much when he comes home.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll see you, Hale.”
She left in a hurry.
Hale just stood there. The excitement he had over seeing his daughter, as he did every Wednesday at this time, was invaded by reality. He saw Eddie plenty, but this was the only day he had her for breakfast and took her to school. If he left the Chixago Building, would he have any more breakfasts? Would he still be able to take her to school and for a span of minutes pretend he was her real father, doing real father things?
Moving was a good thing, though. It’s what he wanted. It was better for Eddie. So why did he feel so shitty?
He shrugged it off. The present moment was too precious, and it was no use wasting it feeling bad. He put on a smile as he walked down the hall to the kitchen.
Eddie stared at him, half hiding behind the table with a sly grin on her face.
“You look like the cat that ate the canary, Baby Doll!”
“No! I’m eating eggs, not canaries!” He laughed at how she stretched out the last word.
He walked up and kissed her on the head, through her beautiful blonde hair. “I’d love you even if you did eat canaries for breakfast,” he said, sitting down.
“No, Hale. That’s so silly.” She giggled, again drawing out the “silly.”
“How’s that tooth?”
“It’s still loose, see,” she said, opening her mouth to wiggle it.
“Oh gross!” he yelled, putting his hands up in front of his face. “Finish chewing first!”
She thought this was hilarious and started laughing hysterically. A little piece of egg flew out of her mouth in Hale’s direction.
“Ah! Now you’re attacking me!”
She started the kind of full-body laughing where there’s not enough air going in but the laughs keep coming out. Just like that, Hale was laughing too.
Her blue eyes glistened as she fought to gain control of herself. Unable to resist the childlike impulse, Hale flicked the little piece of egg right back at her. It stuck to her cheek.
She snorted, a barrage of soft yellow projectiles flying from her mouth.
Now he’d done it. She truly lost it, and Hale laughed loudly with her. They were probably waking Benz up, but he honestly couldn’t control himself. Eddie flopped on the edge of the table with her head on her arm like she couldn’t hold herself up any longer. “I can’t stop attacking you!” she cried finally, gasping.
Hale got up to grab a towel, dabbed it in her glass of water, and then rubbed her mouth off with it. Just like a real father would do.
AS JUSTIN walked into the station, he immediately spotted Scarecrow in the corner off to the left. The shady man embodied every element the word lurking brought to mind—black trench coat, hands in the pockets, piercing stare. Justin steadied his nerves by observing, just like he would going into a fight. Scarecrow was taller than Justin remembered, taller than himself. His black-and-gray hair was thicker on the sides, but he was balding on top. The giant brown eyes were the one thing he distinctly remembered, although in his memory from that night they were darker. Scarecrow was old, but he looked hard too. Grizzled. He was leaning back against the wall in a blatantly relaxed pose. As Justin approached, the man straightened.
Scarecrow looked him up and down. “Seems like you’re healing pretty well.”
No thanks to you, asshole. The words went unsaid as Justin stopped several feet away. “Care to explain that—the sandpaper, or whatever it was?”
“No.” Scarecrow’s tone was level but authoritative. “It’s not my job to explain things to you. It’s my job to tell you what to do. It’s your job to listen.”
Justin nodded, never breaking eye contact. Not for a second.
“What’s your name?” the man asked after a pause.
“Justin.”
“Justin, call me Vaughn.”
No thanks. He’d stick with Scarecrow.
“What happened to your old handler?” Scarecrow asked.
Justin tried to sound casual to avoid any follow-up questions. “He died.”
“How?”
Damn.
Justin hesitated. He’d expected this, but when he said it in his head, it never came out smoothly. He returned his gaze to Scarecrow—and shit, when had he broken eye contact? “I killed him,” he said, trying to reveal no emotion in his voice.
“Murdered your handler, eh?” Scarecrow laughed. “I guess I better watch my back with you, Justin.” But in no way did this man look scared. In his eyes he looked amused.
“It wasn’t like that,” Justin said.
“What was it like, then?”
“He went crazy. He was sick.”
“Ground sickness?”
Justin kept his gaze steady and nodded. “He became delirious. Paranoid. He wasn’t making any sense. He was in a lot of pain. His body was wasting away. I don’t know for sure what was wrong with him but probably ground sickness in the brain.”
“Why didn’t you find him a doctor?”
“Not my job.”
“The pills always help, at least for a while.”
He needed this line of questioning to be over. “Maybe he couldn’t afford them. I don’t know. He was my handler, not my friend.”
“So you killed him.”
No. Gin did. But without hesitation, Justin said the rehearsed words. “He was becoming a danger to other people. In the end he couldn’t take care of himself. I put a pillow over his face. Drugs and liquor—he passed out and never woke up.”
“So you’re a killer. Can’t say I mind. In fact, I think it’s to your advantage.”
Even though Scarecrow seemed to believe him, Justin’s body went all tingly, like every part of him was falling asleep, starved of blood.
“The games are changing, Justin. And I think they might be perfect
for you.”
“I don’t….” He wanted to say I don’t kill people, but stopped himself. He couldn’t show weakness, and proclaiming his limits wasn’t going to accomplish anything. Besides, hadn’t he just told Scarecrow the opposite? The lie was important, for Gin’s sake. No one could know she was involved. “I don’t understand,” he finished.
“The grit that sliced your face wasn’t my idea. It was in the instructions. Do you know what else was in the instructions? I was supposed to take you on all along, at least if you survived in any sort of shape to continue in Shadow Fray.” His tone was so casual it was unnerving. “For the most part, you came through with flying colors.”
“So they knew—?”
“About Joe, your dead handler? Of course they knew,” he said in a tone where the dumbass was implied.
“Joe. You said his name. You knew him?”
“’Course I knew him. Can’t say I liked him or that I’m sorry he’s dead. Ain’t no one sorry about that.” Scarecrow raised an eyebrow, his large eyes looking at Justin appraisingly. “You know what they don’t know, though? They don’t know you did it. I think that will stay our little secret.” Scarecrow winked.
Who are they? Justin wanted to ask, but he didn’t dare. “So it was they, uh, them, that told you to kill… to cut his throat.”
Scarecrow laughed. “Oh no. I was to take only the winner, but the grand finale was my idea. And what a damn good one. You’ve seen the hits? That’s all money, baby.”
Justin nodded. “About that….”
“Yeah, about that,” Scarecrow imitated. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash, glancing around the station as he handed it to Justin.
Justin wanted to count it. Paused, then thought better of it, but it didn’t go unnoticed.
Shadow Fray Page 6