“Like what?”
“Plan A was to find a peer of the senator’s who would be willing to betray him. You’d think that would be easy since he’s such a dick, but Greenstreet keeps all his high-ranking officials happy.”
Esau interjects. “Plan B was to find someone on the outside we could plant, but it’s impossible to infiltrate his inner circle. Only low numbers can get close to him, and every number ever created is impossible to replicate. As soon as a person dies, their number is either retired or passed down through family. It never goes back into circulation. Any number that would identify our spy as wealthy is already accounted for.”
Jacob jumps back in. “That leaves Plan C: wait for a number to show up we could steal, and find a person with access to the senator who didn’t have any kind of connections that would give us away.” He smiles. “You can imagine our excitement when that exact set of circumstances fell into place.”
“The odds are astronomically small,” Esau says. “Religious people might call it destiny. Which is foolish, but still. The chances of finding a willing participant at the same time a number like this becomes available … it’s small.”
“I see,” is all I say. My tongue is dry.
I ask the question that’s been unspoken all night. “Ok, you two have told me all about how you’re going to kill this man and how I fit into your plans. That’s great. But why?”
“What do you mean?” Jacob asks.
“Why do you want him dead at all? What’s the motivation? You’re trying to kill a powerful, well-seen man. What could you need that would require him six feet under?”
“I’d ask you the same question,” Esau says.
“Damn Esau, you’re going to pretend to be that stupid? I’m trapped. He put something in my head that would destroy my hearing if I didn’t do what he asked. Now your turn. Tell me what’s so important that you’d want him dead?”
Jacob speaks before Esau can. “Freedom.”
“What does that mean?”
“Exactly what I said. Senator Greenstreet leads a group who think it’s acceptable to rank human beings by their perceived worth. We’re numbers to them. If you don’t rank high enough, you’re left behind. You can’t make a decent living. It’s economic Darwinism, except a select group or people decide on the rules for who are deemed ‘the fittest.’ They live large and get elected into office, while the inferiors eke out a meaningless existence feeding the machine that’s put them where they are.”
I blink. “That’s an eloquent speech. I don’t believe a word of it, but it sounds nice.”
“I don’t care what you think, Mav. It’s the truth. Before we colonized Mars, this country allowed you to forge your own future. It was harder for a large part of society, but people could make something of themselves if they tried. Now unless you’re assigned a particular number, you don’t stand a chance. Hell, you can’t even run for office with high digits. I want to live in a world where I have a chance. As humans, we deserve that much.”
“But why him? What you said applies to a lot of people. Why is he your target?”
Jacob’s shoulders slump. “He could be the next person to run our country.”
“Pshh, please. Greyson will be the one to run for VP. Everyone knows it. Why aren’t you taking him down instead?”
“He’s one of the good ones.”
“And you decided that how?”
“None of your business.”
“What about the guy who already won his race?”
“Mingo Zimmerman?”
“Yeah, that’s the one. Why not kill him? He’s a miserable human being.”
“Come on, Mav. We’re not killing people because they don’t know when to keep their mouths shut. If we did, you would’ve been dead hours ago.”
“Hey …”
“I thought you wanted Greenstreet out of the way.”
“I do, and it’s obvious why. But after everything you just said, I still don’t know why you and your secretive group really want him dead.”
Jacob rubs his face. “Mav, we’re going to give you something you want. Do you need to know why?”
The truth is I don’t. He knows it. I know it. That’s not the point. They’re keeping me in the dark about something.
But if I want Greenstreet dead, I’ll have to give them what they want. For now.
I turn to Esau. “What about you?”
“I was trained to be a line cook because I have a cleft palette and my family’s genetic history was considered subpar. My intellect on its own was ignored. Living outside of the system has allowed me to become more than I ever thought possible. Greenstreet embodies that system. I can’t allow for something like that to endure. He needs removed.”
He’s telling the truth; but again, there’s something they’re not telling me. I’ll leave it alone for now.
“All right, here’s another one for you. Let’s say your well-intentioned rebellion works. Let’s say we kill Greenstreet. What then? Who is righteous enough to take his spot in the eyes of The Red Hand?”
“Well,” Jacob explains, “there would be a purge of all the corrupt politicians, then special elections.”
I scoff. “Oh, that’s when everyone else dies. And who would make sure that went off without cheating?”
“The Martians,” Esau answers.
I laugh. “You’re joking, right? Those people left us. Why in God’s name would they help? They’re too busy living perfect lives to concern themselves with the genetically inferior dummies on this blue marble.”
“No, listen Maverick,” Jacob says. “They want to help us here on Earth. Norah has contacts there. They’ve said Mars leadership has tried to send dignitaries and aides, but they’re refused entry when they arrive. If we kill Greenstreet, we could let them in, reestablish communication, and—”
I interrupt him. “Oh God, this is boring. Listen, I don’t care anymore. Sorry I asked. You obviously have it figured out.”
Jacob skootches a little closer to me. “Are you still in? Can you lie your way through the upper crust of our government to help kill the man who’s done you wrong?”
I lock gazes with him. “Nothing you’ve said makes me want him any less dead.”
“Good. First, you need to know a few things about Don Merkatz.”
“Finally.”
Jacob pulls out a holodisk from his pocket and gives it three quick shakes. There’s a flash of light, and a man’s face hovers in front of us.
I recognize him right away. He was at all the senator’s parties. He is—or was, I guess—unattractive. A scowl wrinkles his face, his puffy eyes make him look angry, and his poorly done dye job and unnaturally straight hair make it obvious he hates looking old. I want the image to smile and leave his hair alone, because it would make him look ten years younger.
I never dealt with him when I’d play for Greenstreet, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t aware of his reputation: he was an ass.
“This the guy?” I ask.
“The one and only. Chairman of the Board at Amrian Enterprises and son of the man who brought Big World Virtual Reality to the market.”
“A grownup trust-fund kid. What’s he got to do with the senator?”
“Where do you think the senator gets his toys?”
“Ok, then what does Merkatz get out of it?”
“It never hurts to have a high-ranking senator in your pocket. The two seemed to have a symbiotic relationship. Greenstreet got the gadgets he needed to stay safe and one step ahead of his competition. Merkatz got the legal loopholes he needed to keep his money to himself.”
“What’s the story of you getting big shot’s number?”
Jacob smiles. “Norah. Since she and her firm—”
I interrupt. “Her firm?”
“Yeah. You know, because she’s an attorney. Was that never explained?”
I throw my hands in the air. “When would that have been explained? No!”
“Oh, yeah. She was Merkatz’s lawyer. Is h
is lawyer? I’m not sure how that works when the person’s dead.”
“Ohhhhh,” I say as I fall back into the couch. “This makes sense now.”
“That’s how she’s able to pull these strings and none of it come crashing down,” Esau explains. “She worked behind the scenes to set someone up as the heir as soon as Merkatz’s health started to fail.”
Esau interjects. “She was paying one of his staff to spy on him. They made a call last night saying Merkatz was dead. She’d already picked you as the person who would inherit his number.”
Jacob flashes me a mischievous smile. “Obviously that was a bad call on her part.”
I feign laughter.
“The plan is for you to tell the senator you’ve been watching him for Merkatz the entire time,” Esau explains. “I’ve created a new identity for you that gives you some of Merkatz’s assets and part of his estate. If we make too much of a power grab, it’ll look suspicious. You’ll get one of his apartments in Overland Park or something. Norah’s in charge of those details.”
Esau keeps talking, but I stop listening. Maybe it’s because I’m dehydrated or maybe it’s the crusty wounds starting to form on my arms, but I feel woozy. I brace myself using the arm of the couch and try to fight the narrowing of my vision.
I snap out of it when I see a tiny red light flash on Esau’s glasses. He stops rambling, and his jaw clenches.
“They’re here again.”
Jacob looks confused. “Who? What are you talking about?”
“The senator’s men. Probably the same ones who launched that missile into the hotel earlier. They’re on foot this time, and they’re closing in on the house.”
12
As soon as I understand our lives are in danger again, I do the most logical thing I can think of.
I run toward the laundry room.
“Where are you going?” Jacob whisper shouts. “We have to get out!”
I ignore him. If he has two brain cells to rub together, he’ll follow me.
As I sprint, Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy” starts playing in my head. It’s a strange choice, but I run with it. The chorus swells, and I start to hum along. My thoughts clear, then disappear altogether. I slip into the In-Between, my body and subconscious brain now in unison.
I slide through the dark house to the back, where I find Scarlet’s old Maytags sitting like a couple of old faithful dogs.
I bend down and pat the washing machine’s side like a farmer pats a cow when he milks her. “Good girl.”
I wedge my hand under the bottom edge of the washer and grab the old piece of wood I’m looking for. I pull it out from the dusty underside of the appliance and pivot on my knees. A key dangles on a piece of string attached to a wooden stick carved into the likeness of a gargoyle.
I remember making this little guy when I was ten. Scarlet had told me it was ugly and threw it in the trash. I’d retrieved him and placed him here, knowing that he would do a good job protecting this important little key. I was right.
I open the utility closet door as Jacob and Esau slide around the corner. Each has a gun drawn.
“We have to go!” Jacob says in a panic.
“Oh, untie your testicles. Put those guns away before you get yourselves killed, and slide the dryer out of the way.”
“What?” the brothers say in unison.
“Do it!” I slide the key into a little device located above the gas line to the heater. “When I turn this key, we have thirty seconds to get out of the house. I don’t want to spend twenty of them moving that dryer. Now do it!”
Jacob and Esau obey. Jacob puts his gun in the holster nestled in the small of his back, and Esau tucks his inside his jacket. They work together to scoot the dryer across the floor.
Beneath it is a metal hatch.
Without any kind of prompting, Jacob reaches down and pulls on the handle sticking up from the floor. A draft of cool air caresses my skin as soon as he opens the hatch. Both brothers turn and look at me.
“It’s a bit of a drop. Don’t break an ankle.”
They each jump down and disappear beneath the floor. It’s quiet again except for “Ode to Joy” playing in my head. I resume my humming, the anxiety that could be muddling up my mind nowhere to be found.
I look down at the little wooden gargoyle snarling up at me. I break the string attaching it to the key.
“Suck it, Scarlet.”
I hear a window break somewhere else in the house, then the sliiiiiide-clunk of the IronClad opening.
Still humming, I slide the gargoyle in my pocket and turn the key. I walk to the hatch on my knees like a penguin and throw my legs into the hole.
Tactical boots pound against the wooden floors. I see a green laser streak across the wall like Armageddon’s comet.
I grab hold of the handle on the bottom side of the hatch and slide my butt over the edge. I let go as both I and the hatch fall. It closes above me with a bang. There’s a satisfying clank a half second later as the door seals itself. I’m swallowed by the pitch-black tunnel beneath my grandmother’s house.
I fall through the dank coolness of the bunker, Beethoven’s masterpiece reaching its crescendo in my head. I sing the last few notes and smile.
My feet touch the ground seconds later, and a deafening explosion erupts above me.
The ground rises and falls violently, as if Earth coughed in an attempt to clear her windpipe. For a split second, a faint orange light illuminates the space around us. It’s like the last few moments of a sunset before everything turns to shades of gray. I always try to soak up those moments in my mind and keep them for as long as I can. Day has ended. This is night.
In that moment of light, I see Jacob and Esau cover their ears and back into the concrete walls of the underground bunker. Esau’s face tells me he’s concerned, but not shocked. The tiny trace of fear I see is probably more about the integrity of the hatch above our heads and less about the fact this is the second time tonight someone has tried to kill us.
Jacob’s not scared either. He’s concerned like his brother, but he has an extra element. It’s a street kid look. The one that conveys the sentiment “come what may, and screw you.” It’s the same face he had when the hotel exploded a couple of hours ago.
This tells me a few things. One, he’s good under pressure. Two, he’s seen his fair share of explosions. Three, he doesn’t have any remorse over killing people who try to kill him.
All good things given the situation we’re in, I guess.
Esau reaches into his pocket and charges me. The quick little nerd has me in a headlock before I can react. I pull at his arm with all my might. He inserts something in my ear. There’s a loud beep. I scream.
“Stop struggling,” he commands. Something goes in my other ear, and there’s another loud beep.
He lets me go, and I swing for his face. My fist would have connected with his jaw if it hadn’t been for Jacob. He thrusts with both hands and connects with my elbow. The blow throws me off course and knocks me backward.
“It’s your ears!” Esau shouts over the bellow of the fire, his hands raised in surrender. “That’s how they found us! The tracking in your ears came back on!”
I stare at him bewildered, then scream. “Why didn’t you just say so, Esau!”
“There wasn’t time! They’ll know you’re alive if you’re tracking after that kind of explosion!”
I scream at him again. I don’t care if that makes sense, he scared the crap out of me.
Esau’s hands are still raised. “I’m sorry I scared you, but I had to do it.”
I take a deep breath. “I get it. But never grab me like that again. Promise?”
Esau nods and lowers his hands.
“Where to now?” Jacob shouts. It’s dark again. The fire’s still roaring like a jet engine above our heads. The air heats up around us to an unbearable level within seconds.
“Esau, turn on your flashlight.”
He hits the button on his
glasses, and we’re bathed in light. We’re standing at the bottom of a narrow concrete hole. The brothers have backed into another tinier tunnel. I crouch down and join them.
“Onward,” I say, pointing further down the tunnel.
We shuffle through the tight concrete tunnel without speaking. I have the flashlight now at the front of the line. This tunnel is barely big enough for my shoulders to squeeze through.
The squall of the gas fire begins to dissipate, and I can finally hear our feet scuffing the rough floor. A few minutes later, we reach a second hatch. It’s attached to a curved concrete tube sticking out of the floor that’s only partially exposed. The hatch itself has a big round wheel on it like the submarines I’ve seen in the old Net Mirror shows.
I reach up and pull on the wheel, but not much happens. The brothers both come to my aid. With their help, the seal on the door hisses open, and the smell of dirty water and decomposing leaves fills the tunnel. I shine the flashlight inside.
“It’s a pipe,” Esau observes. “A dirty, disgusting pipe.”
“We have a certified genius in our midst, ladies and gentlemen,” I sneer.
Esau turns to me with a blank expression. “I am a certified genius. I can show you my test scores if you’d like.”
I punch him in the chest.
He gasps for breath, but I don’t have time to revel in his asphyxiation. I turn to Jacob.
“After you.”
Jacob looks at me the same way a person might look at a toddler who’s throwing a fit. He isn’t frightened, but he doesn’t want to anger me again and make it worse. He hops inside the pipe. Esau glares at me, but begrudgingly enters through the hatch. I seal the hatch behind me.
It smells old inside the pipe. I can feel my sinuses swelling shut from all the mold and dank. It’s twice as big as the previous tunnel. Three inches of water sit stagnating beneath our feet, and the walls are damp to the touch. It’s quiet, too. The roar of the fire is all but gone.
“Which way?” Jacob asks. He doesn’t shout, but his voice sounds like a shotgun blast in the emptiness.
“It doesn’t matter,” I say. “All we need to do is make sure we’re far enough from Scarlet’s house that we can exit to the street without anyone seeing us.”
Numbered: Episode One of the Sister Planets Series Page 5