by D. K. Dailey
I assume the stance again, and he says, “I’m starting to think Pike made me teach you as punishment. This is going to take days.” He stops and stares at me.
“All day?” I whine.
“Days,” he corrects, “weeks even.” He blows out another breath.
It goes on like that for the rest of the day, with only a short break for lunch and dinner.
Three weeks pass, and we continue the same routine of practice shooting. Then, in the wee hours of the morning darkness, Zee wakes and hands me a bundle of clothes. “Here. Change and be ready to go at five.”
“Five? In the morning? You quipping me?”
“No. Truck we’re scavenging is delivering and should be well into unloading, so we leave in about fifteen minutes.”
So much for sleep. I stand from my cot, looking down at the black cargo pants and black V-neck T-shirt in my hands. Military-inspired jackets, hoodies, worn-out dark jeans, and long-john cotton shirts seem to be a staple of the dress code around here. Zee wears a similar outfit, but with the addition of fingerless black gloves and a black jacket.
“Whose clothes are these?”
“Yours. I’m tired of seeing you in the prisoner jumpsuit and the same dingy shirt we gave you on rescue day.”
“If I could go to the city, I could get new clothes.” I look at the bundle with disdain.
Zee’s bony chest caves in with a chuckle. “If you’re trying to fit in, you gotta get over your elitist attitude.” His eyes sweep over me, not in an unkind manner, more in an I-don’t-understand-you one.
My face tightens at the insult. Elitist? Really? Is that what these people think of me? No. They probably think worse.
What do they want from me? My help, obviously. They were the only ones who had my back when it counted. But what does Zee personally want? He’s been decent to me this whole time, but does he actually like me?
The clothing’s thin, worn material that looks more tenth-hand than secondhand. I try to smile because these get me out of the shucky I’m in now.
“Saya says he’s spoiled.” Cricket points as she approaches. Zee and I are the same height—six feet two—so we tower over her.
“She said that, did she?” I pretend to be wounded, grabbing where my heart is.
“Oh, be quiet, Cricket.” Zee rubs a hand on the top of her greasy head.
“You messed up my hair.” Her nostrils flare in protest.
He snorts. “Why are you worried about it all of the sudden?” He looks from Cricket to me, causing her to storm off.
“I think you got a little admirer on your hands.” Zee smiles.
“She did try to grill me on who I liked during my first night here.”
Chuckling, he pats me on the back. “She’s a handful.” Then he points to the clothes before walking away. “See ya in ten minutes.”
“Zee?” He spins around on the tip of his boots to face me. “How does this scavenging thing work?” I ask not for info’s sake but more to feel him out. He’s been welcoming, faithfully teaching me how to shoot. But he hangs around that doink Rigo, so I’m not positive what to make of him.
“We send scouts to find out when food deliveries hit restaurants, the market, and stores. Then scavengers try and catch the bubbles en route or at their destinations.”
“You make it sound so easy.” I rock on the balls of my feet.
“Sometimes it is.” Cracking a smile, he ambles away.
I head to the bathroom. I hate to touch anything for fear of catching a disease, but I clean up with one of their disposable washing cloths from a bin in the bathroom and then jog back outside in the “new” clothes. The scavengers wait at the front doors.
“Ready to go ‘incognito’?” Isa, a tall, brown-haired girl asks. She’s been at the table I eat at since my first full day here. She has gray eyes, a really cute smile, and a nice body.
“If that’s what you’re calling it.” I smile, and her pale skin tints bright red.
Zee moves to stand near me. “You know Isa, Saya, and Rigo. This is Yimi.” He points to the boy who sat at the breakfast table when Rigo and I argued on my first day. He’s about twelve or thirteen based on his height and pimply light brown skin. He hasn’t eaten with us since then, probably due to Rigo’s doink behavior. Which, by the way, hasn’t changed.
The five passengers pile into a large bubble with three rows of seats. Stolen, probably. This is a newer model than the one we used for my rescue, so the ride probably won’t be as shaky.
Saya gets into the driver’s seat, prepared to drive manually again. I sit in the back, next to Isa, who bats her eyelashes, smiles a lot, and sits awfully close for my taste. Reaching one long finger toward the window, she writes a message in the condensation. “Talk later?”
My forehead wrinkles. My eyes flicker between the message and Isa a few times. She returns my gaze while she wipes the words away and then looks out the window like our exchange is secret. I look to the front of the vehicle, where Saya stares at the dashboard. She’s watching the stream of the back of the bubble, and her eyes flash with pure green jelliness, which is worse than jealousy. But in less than a second, the look disappears. She cleanses the emotions from her eyes like a painter washing color from a paintbrush, then she concentrates on the road with fresh vigor.
We drive for a while on the lower level of the track system. I tune out the banter around me. These people know each other. I’m the oddball. Guess this is part of being a Golden Dreg boy. Falsely accused, I make the most of my circumstances by adapting. Dress like them to fit in. Sleep on their cots. Eat their mush. And do what they command. For now.
“Did the food bubble arrive already?” Rigo asks Saya.
“Yeah, according to the scouts. It should be unloading when we arrive.”
“We will walk together at first and then the group fans out and partners up like always. Since Cress is gone, Kade, you partner with Isa.” Rigo doesn’t turn around to address me, yet distress alters his voice. He’s basically saying, “Do what you’re told. Follow our lead.”
“Everyone know what to do?” he continues. “We got five minutes for this one, right?”
“Right,” they all respond.
A few minutes later, Saya says, “There it is.” We approach an unloading bubble supply truck. Parking our vehicle on the street, she then cuts the engine with a push of a button.
“Does everyone have a gun but me?” They all look at me like I’m asking a stupid question. “What?” I throw up my hands.
“You’re still mastering shooting,” Zee says like he feels sorry for me. “And Pike said you can’t have a gun yet.”
Now I’m looking at them like they’re stupid. If Pike were here or if he’d told me this before the mission, I might not have gone. “But I need a gun to defend myself!”
“Don’t worry. We never use them,” Yimi says in a calm voice.
“Says the kid with a gun.” I fall back into my seat.
Rigo passes a reusable sack to Zee, who then passes it to me.
“What’s this?” Grabbing the bag, I place it in my lap.
“You’re holding the rope.” Amusement is smothered in the dips in his tone.
“What’d you bring this for?” I peek inside. Rope?
Rigo rolls his eyes. “To tie up the guards, you doink.”
Holding the bag in the air, I keep my voice low. “You give me this instead of a gun?”
Isa touches my arm. “We don’t use guns anyway. They’re for emergencies, and I’ll stay near you.”
I gaze at Saya, but her face is expressionless.
“That’s very reassuring.” But they had guns when they rescued me. They protected me then. Will they protect me again? “But seriously, I don’t even get a Laser-Taser? Even security officers have those.” Cops use those first instead of guns.
“Sorry, we never equip newbies with weapons, not even you,” Zee replies.
I shake my head. They are serious. Zarding rope—I’m holding a ba
g with rope!
“Usually, we hold the guards up,” Isa continues, “disable their vehicles if we need to and load the food.” She smiles. “And get away, of course.”
“We’ll be in and out in less than five,” Yimi adds.
“Let’s go.” Rigo pushes his door button. Saya does the same for the back of the vehicle, and the glass lifts as the seats push upward, making it easier to get out.
A deep sigh escapes as the canvas bag filled with rope slinks onto my back, and I slide across the bubble bench seat. Once we’re all out, we walk in a tight pack, so close I’m pacing steps with the lift of the person’s foot in front of me. It’s all I can concentrate on as Rigo and Saya lead the way.
Zee’s shoulder brushes mine, Isa’s hand touches mine, and every step makes me uncomfortable. But what makes me more uncomfortable is what’s in front of us.
Chapter Twenty
We stalk into the nighttime shadows of my dad’s office building in downtown Battle Creek. The Dregs are bold to come here, to challenge the government by taking food from the employee cafeteria. I’ve eaten there a few times with Dad. A nice place and free to workers, plus there’s a mini convenience market.
This used to be my stomping ground, where I ran free with my buds with no cares in the world. Ems used to ask if other cities were the same, and as far as I know, they are. We’re all affected by spreading disease and weak immune systems.
Why didn’t they go for an easier job? Shaw Technologies provides the government with weaponry and technology and performs sanctioned and scientific research—why steal food from them? We could’ve hit a bubble on its way to a restaurant or the market, like Zee said they normally do. No plan needed for that. Are they trying to make a statement?
Once a robbery is committed here, all security measures will change, and the government will pursue the accused to the full extent of the law. Don’t they know that? Or is Pike’s group trying to hit the government where it hurts? But robbing one measly food bubble truck isn’t going to hurt their bottom line. This mission will hurt Dregs more than it will hurt the government.
“Do you want me to be recaptured?” My heart sinks into my stomach.
“Of course not. What do you mean?” Saya asks.
“This is my dad’s building!” I stop walking.
Saya turns to me. “Pike ordered us to raid it.”
Is he testing me? Testing my strength, my perseverance? Does he want to see how I function under pressure? If I can function knowing this is my father’s building?
“But I could be recognized.” I know people here. Granted, I don’t know any security guards except Noodle’s father, but didn’t Pike think about the possibility? Being here puts me in danger. Would he intentionally place me in danger after investing so much time and effort into rescuing me? My gut says no, but being here, robbing this place, doesn’t make sense.
“Newer guards are on duty.” Zee nods.
“How do you know that?”
“Because Pike said so. And you should know too that Pike said to avoid killing, only wound if necessary.” Apparently, Rigo trusts every word that comes out of their leader’s mouth. Me? Not so much.
I could refuse to go further, but part of me wants to see this plan through, see if they can get away with it.
Saya turns and gazes into my eyes. “We watched you for a long time, staked out this building for just as long. No one who recognizes you will be here.” Her voice is insistent and has a calming effect. I put cuckoo thoughts out of my mind. I’ll talk to Pike about this later. But for now, I switch gears. I must trust these people with my life. Again.
“We’ve got two minutes until we split.” Rigo counts down, checking his watch.
I frown at the old relic. I’m used to checking time on my c-chip. One of the few things I do know about this mission is that they figured out the best time to rob the truck is in the early morning.
A dog barks somewhere, reminding me it’s been quiet thus far, except for the resounding hum of automachines clanking in the background, unloading boxed food orders. This is almost eerie. A misty cloud covers everything in leaden fog, and the fading stars are dull. They lack the luster my sister and I used to admire from our backyard. The building’s flood and dock lights illuminate our target in the darkness.
This is a highly guarded area, but security is lowered at certain times and places. During the day, most people enter through the front. But those with special clearances must enter and pass security through an eighteen-foot black iron gate. All entrances and exits are under camera surveillance.
Not many places in Battle Creek are recorded due to privacy laws the Goldens have imposed, for their protection, of course. But Shaw Technologies is not one of those places. At night, the building is locked down and guarded by motion-detector lighting, a few guards, and cameras. Despite the high-tech security system, the building’s back entrance isn’t protected because no one ever messes with truck deliveries. The Dregs know this. They know all of this.
This scavenger mission is a trap. They’re waiting to snatch us up, I’m nearly positive except Saya was positive too, so that gives me pause. As we approach, it becomes clear why they picked this loading dock and parked near the seven-foot garbage cans. Occupying a corner that intersects with a fence, the dock is out of the way, and the garbage cans cloak our arrival. A stealth move. Go unseen at first to gain the advantage.
“They record the premises, you know,” I whisper.
“Pike’s shutting down the system, stalling recording, and opening the gates,” a monotone Rigo states.
“With his computer?” My wondrous tone makes me sound dumb. Of course they plan to control the system remotely. Genius. More prepared than I thought. They know exactly what they’re doing. They execute successful scavenging missions all the time. Could probably do it in their sleep.
“Split,” Rigo orders. Grabbing my hand, Isa pulls me away from the group. We fan out in different directions into a beautiful dance routine everyone knows but me.
We hide behind the garbage can right next to Rigo and Saya. No coincidence they’re partners. Rigo probably planned that one as soon as he became mission leader.
They’re the closest pair to the fence opening, where it will divide when Pike overrides the system. Whew! Even with the lids tightly sealed, the overpowering stench of garbage drifts through the air.
Crouching so low to the ground makes my knees weak. I don’t know if I feel frail because of nervousness or because my body isn’t used to this.
Isa peeks around the garbage bin, and I look out into the distance. Cupping a hand over her ear, she points to the dock. Listen.
I scoot closer. The area is full of cardboard boxes stacked high in rows and the machines that move the boxes inside. The insistent hum can be overpowering, but the guards’ voices prevail. “Machine almost done with that load yet?”
“Yep, bubbles are nearly empty.”
Rigo holds his hand in the air in a closed fist. Hold.
To show we understand, we either silently motion with the okay symbol or nod.
Red lights blink on the top of the gate, accompanied by a beeping noise carried in the wind. The gate jerks open a crack and then smoothly glides the rest of the way. The sound and movement startle two guards, and the loading machines halt.
“Why are the gates opening?”
“Don’t know. Maybe it’s an override.”
Rigo nods. Does that mean go?
Next, he touches his ear. Oh, an earpiece. He’s probably communicating with Pike. “Saya, get the bubble and park next to the dock. Keep your gun ready.”
Staying low, she runs across the street. In a few seconds, our van bubble hums on like a light bulb, and she floats forward and attacks the gate.
Adrenaline bursts through my veins. This must be what getting an immunization feels like. A chill runs through me, intermingled with warmth, like standing on the edge of a building, fighting momentum and gravity, with the wind as my enemy.
I’m ready. Ready to attack when Rigo or Isa say so. But what do I do? Chase the guards with my hands out like a mummy or up in the air like a person going cuckoo? That’ll go over well. Nice-sized bullet straight to my head.
Rigo motions us forward from behind the garbage bins. We flood through the open gate and run for the dock. When Saya reaches it, she jumps out of the bubble, leaving it idling in the air. Can’t help but admire her grace under pressure. A skilled manual driver knows if you don’t turn off a bubble once you abandon contact with it, it immediately stops. Flutterboards share the same feature.
Three guards shoot blindly at the empty bubble. It’s bulletproof glass, you doinks. I sigh at their stupidity. Saya takes cover behind another vehicle.
I stay behind Isa like I’ve been told, trying to figure out what’s next. She ushers me forward to sneak up on the guards. Oh, an ambush.
Rigo takes cover on one side of the truck bubble. Yimi approaches the men on the dock from the rear. From the farthest garbage can, they circle and attack the dock once the gate fully opens.
The guards spot us, and Isa drops near a wheel. I mimic. She presses her back against the tire. I move as close to her as possible without getting in the way. We’re hunkered lower than the guards can shoot without dropping to the ground themselves. We’re their new targets as they seek cover behind dock machinery.
Bullets clink off objects, denting metal and machines, digging holes in the building’s concrete walls and shattering glass around us.
I can’t help but think about not having a gun. I cover my head with my hands. That won’t stop a bullet, but protecting myself in any way is my goal.
From the opposite side of the vehicle, Rigo returns fire. One guard focuses solely on him. Bad mistake. When the guard faces Rigo, he has a clear shooting angle. Rigo wounds him in the shoulder. The injured man drops but keeps firing. Pike said not to kill, only wound, but the guard keeps firing. Someone has to take him out!
“Surrender!” Rigo yells.
The injured man finally obeys, tossing his weapon aside and holding up one hand while placing the other on his bleeding shoulder.