Plexus

by Wilcoxson, Troy

  “Hey, handsome!” a woman with a short skirt says as he holds the door open for her.

  “Ma’am,” he acknowledges her with a firm voice as she walks out.

  “You smell good, dark eyes,” she adds, walking away.

  “Hey, Zach! What’s happening, man?” shouts the happy cashier.

  “Not too much, Bahadur. How’s your night going?” Zach replies.

  “Not as good as I like, but better than I deserve,” Bahadur responds with a smile. “Let me guess: a hot dog and a coffee?”

  “You got it, boss,” Zach replies with a crooked smirk as he drops a wad of bills and change on the counter. “Thanks, bud!” he adds, raising the coffee while walking out the door.

  “See ya later, man!” Bahadur says, slamming his cash drawer shut.

  Hopping into the driver’s seat, Zach takes a bite of the hot dog.

  A loud radio static blazes inside the cruiser. “Patrol 431, this is dispatch.”

  “Dispatch, go ahead,” Zach responds into the radio.

  “Twenty-two thirty, Baldur’s road, a woman reports a fight and/or a disturbance in the parking lot,” says the dispatcher.

  “Ten four, patrol 431,” Zach replies cranking up the cruiser.

  Eight minutes later, Zach pulls into the parking lot of Kyle’s BBQ & Grill. Stepping out of his police cruiser, he is approached by a fellow officer.

  “What’s the deal?” Zach says walking toward the restaurant.

  “Guy loses job, blames the manager’s androids. Says he was replaced by the androids. So dude gets a baseball bat and makes a mess of one of the manager’s androids while it was exiting after closing,” the officer says to Zach.

  Walking up, he sees a large, greasy man wearing a dirty apron with three female androids mourning over their lost sister android. And a younger man in handcuffs. The ground is littered with glass from the window and blood from the android. The android’s head is split open, its contents spilled all over the ground.

  “Awesome,” Zach says sarcastically.

  “Awesome? What the fuck man? I’m down a woman! Who’s going to pay for that, you?” the large manager screams angrily.

  “I been working here for six years! Six years! All just so this fat fuck would replace me for one of his bimbots. It’s bullshit! I have a wife and kids. How the fuck am I supposed to support them when you can’t get a fucking job anywhere because all the managers are getting free labor out of their goddamn bots,” the handcuffed ex-employee hisses.

  The ex-employee is then placed in the back of the cruiser. Zach walks up to the manager.

  “You and your bimbots have a good night, sir,” Zach says to the manager.

  “Oh, we will,” the splotchy-faced manager says while running his wet tongue over his yellow teeth.

  Zach’s cell phone goes off, buzzing in his pocket. Pulling his cell phone out, he sees he has received a text. The text reads: Zach, it’s Nevan. I got a lead on the Malory Becker kidnap case. Call me ASAP!

  Zach dials Nevan’s number into the phone. Placing the device up to his ear, he waits for a response.

  “Hey Zach, after running the fingerprints on her purse, I got a possible suspect. Ivan Zhukov, some Russian asshole.” Nevan speaks without pause. “Oh, and you want to hear the best part? He’s inside this diner right now. I’m parked right outside and figured you may want to come check it out.”

  “On my way,” Zach says hastily, getting into his cruiser.

  Zach pulls up to the diner. Rain picks up, heavily washing the city from above.

  “Hey, bud,” Nevan says, patting Zach’s shoulder.

  “Thank you for this,” Zach says to the redheaded, fair-skinned police officer as he approaches the diner door, oblivious to the rain.

  “I’m here for you. You know that,” Nevan replies, opening the door for Zach.

  As the door opens, cigarette smoke disperses past the pair’s faces into the rain.

  Everyone inside pauses at the sight of two cops standing in the doorway with the rain at their backs. Zach stands there emotionless while rain drips down his face.

  “Everyone out!” Nevan says, walking past Zach.

  Zach stands at the doorway with his thumb tucked behind his utility belt, observing the bar’s patrons like a bull to a red flag as they pass by him.

  Zach puts his hand on a man’s chest, stopping him in his steps.

  “Not you, Ivan,” Zach says with a rasp.

  Ivan looks up; he has a receding hairline and greasy, salt-and-pepper hair. He looks at Zach with fear on his face.

  “Sit,” Zach says with a low growl.

  Ivan plops back down at his half-eaten plate like a child in trouble.

  Zach slides a photo onto the table next to Ivan’s plate. The photo has a pretty young woman standing there in a graduation gown and a smile on her face. She has black hair and lightly tanned skin, and although she is wearing no makeup in the picture, she is naturally pretty.

  “Her name is Malory Becker,” Zach says to Ivan. Ivan refuses to look at the photo.

  “Look at the photo,” Zach whispers into his ear.

  Ivan looks out the window, ignoring Zach.

  Squish! Zach grabs a handful of Ivan’s hair from behind.

  “Look at the photo,” Zach says again calmly.

  “Never seen her before,” Ivan says quickly.

  Smash! Zach plows Ivan’s face into his own plate, shattering it into pieces. Zach then pulls his head back up, revealing a broken nose and a face covered in blood.

  “Fuck!” Ivan cries loudly. “You broke my fucking nose!”

  “Where is Malory Becker?” Zach hisses.

  “In my line of work, girls come and go, but it’s hard to forget a mouth like hers,” the man hisses, grinning with his bloody teeth.

  “Wrong answer,” Zach replies.

  Zach muscles the man to his feet with one arm and swings Ivan into the counter. Spice shakers and coffee cups crash behind the counter while the man’s face is pressed down on the place mat.

  “Where the fuck is she?” Zach roars with a bloodred face and a look of true misery.

  “I’ll never tell,” the man squeals through his bloody teeth with a chuckle.

  “Promise?” Zach says, unclipping his side arm and pressing it into the Ivan’s neck.

  The man looks up out the corner of his eye, trying to see Zach while his face presses against the counter.

  “Please! Don’t shoot!” Ivan screams.

  “Why not?” Zach asks.

  “I’ll tell you where she is. Please!” the man says.

  “I sold her to a man named Gregory Blakely,” Ivan says. “He lives here in town, but I do not know where.”

  Zach holsters his side arm and steps away. Ivan looks at Zach in fear. Zach turns shamefully away from the man’s bloody face.

  Zach and Nevan walk toward the door and exit the diner. The two police officers walk through the rain, get into their respective police cruisers, and depart in separate directions.

  After twenty minutes of driving through the storm, Zach pulls into the parking lot of an apartment complex. He parks the cruiser, then shuts it off. With his hands remaining at ten and two, he sits there frozen, emotionless, and deep in thought. He slowly places his head on the steering wheel.

  “Fuck! God fucking damn it!” Zach cries inside the car.

  He then picks his head up off the steering wheel and looks out the window through the rain. Stepping out of his car, he makes his way through the storm.

  Shuffling through the rain, he steps inside the door and makes his way up the stairs to his apartment door. After pulling out his keys, he opens the door to the dark apartment. He walks into his small kitchen and turns on the light. Opening the refrigerator, he finds the TV remote next to the orange juice.

  He sighs and then grabs the remote, shutting the refrigerator door. On top of the refrigerator, he grabs a coffee can and pops it open. He then pulls out the handful of bills from his jacket pocke
t, placing them into the can.

  Leaving the kitchen and turning off the light, he heads down the dark hall toward a door. Opening the door, he sees an empty bed. Confused, he closes the door again and heads back toward the living room. He notices that the sliding door of the balcony is halfway open. He gasps wide-eyed as he runs to the door to see an elderly lady sitting on the bench outside. Watching the rain, she is deep in thought.

  “Mom! It’s freezing out here!” Zach says, grabbing her arm.

  “No!” she responds and pulls her arm away.

  Zach grabs a blanket from inside and wraps it around her. He sits next to her. It’s quiet.

  “I’m losing it, Zacharias,” she says softly.

  “Mom, don’t talk like that,” he replies.

  “It’s okay,” she says, staring into the rain with a gentle smile forming on her face.

  “I almost have enough money for the surgery. Stop acting like that,” he whispers.

  “You can’t afford that. You know better. Palomino Corporation will have you in debt your entire life,” she says.

  “People have been donating to help. I almost have the money! They’ll fix your Alzheimer’s before it gets too bad,” Zach says, frustrated.

  “Everything will be just like it was,” he adds.

  “No, it won’t,” she replies.

  “Why are you talking like this?” he asks.

  “You used to be such a happy boy. Always playing jokes on people. Making everyone laugh. You were always the life of the party,” she says with a smirk, watching the rainfall.

  “Your sister used to be so jealous of you. She would ask me, ‘Why don’t I make you laugh like Zach does?’ And I would say, ‘You do! You are both funny in your own ways.’

  “Your sister graduated, and you went off to fight that war. After that, everything changed,” she says, her smile fading off her face.

  Zach looks down at his feet, resting his forehead on his hands.

  “You weren’t that happy kid anymore, and your sister started getting herself into trouble,” she says, a tear running down her face.

  “It’s all your fault, you know? Why she’s missing,” she says. Her voice is gravelly.

  “Mom, please. Don’t act like that. I’m trying to find her. You know that!” he hisses as he stands back up in frustration.

  Zach moves toward the sliding door to go back inside.

  “Zacharias Becker, don’t walk away from me when I’m talking to you!” she growls.

  “What do you want from me?” he asks with a sigh.

  “To find your sister Malory,” she hisses. “I’m leaving, going back home to Minnesota tomorrow, first thing in the morning,” she adds. “My sister is coming to pick me up at the airport. Going to live with her.”

  Zach steps inside, shutting the door behind him.

  After taking a shower, he heads to his bedroom with a towel around his waist. Walking up to his large chest of drawers with war medals all over it, he looks into the mirror to see the scarring on his left shoulder and torso. He then lifts up his right hand, revealing a scarred palm. Zach finally crawls into bed and exhales deeply.

  RING! Just as he closes his eyes, the phone goes off.

  “What?” Zach says into the phone after picking it up.

  “Zach, it’s me, Nevan. I’m so sorry—”

  “What are you talking about?” Zach replies, opening his eyes.

  Nevan sighs emotionally over the phone.

  “We found your sister.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “Find the boy!”

  07:00 AM, December 13, 2051

  Forty-One Hours Till Day Zero

  The silver sky blankets the cold city covered in snow.

  “Yesterday, a Palomino android child by the name of Jiro was abducted by a young woman named Emily Wedlund. The couple that owns the boy is eager to reobtain him due to their financial situation. It was in the moment that the refurbish men came to take the boy away when Emily Wedlund was caught on camera grabbing the boy and making a run for it.” The television reports while showing images of both Emily’s and Jiro’s faces.

  “Emily Wedlund has brown hair and brown eyes. Jiro has brown hair and blue eyes. Keep an eye out for this woman and android if you live in the Washington metro area,” the news reporter adds.

  “That’s us!” Jiro says, looking at Emily.

  Emily turns the TV off and makes her way toward a window. Pulling down the blinds, she notices two suits looking in her car in the parking lot. Emily’s eyes open wide in fear. She quickly grabs a Washington Redskins hat and places it on Jiro’s head. She then throws a gray beanie on her head and puts large sunglasses on. She helps Jiro put on his thick, blue jacket and then grabs her burgundy coat and a black backpack.

  “Okay, no matter what, you stay right by me. You got it?” Emily tells Jiro, adjusting his jacket collar.

  “Okay,” the boy responds, grabbing her hand.

  She then cracks the door open, peering out to see if it’s clear. Unable to see out of the door, Jiro looks up at Emily.

  “Let’s go!” she whispers, pulling him out toward a staircase.

  Making their way down the spiral staircase, they hear the tapping of shoes below them growing louder.

  Jiro gasps. Emily grabs his mouth, holds it shut, and pulls him back. She looks around in panic and sees a window. Emily and Jiro run up to the window. Jiro watches the stairs anxiously while Emily unlatches and opens the window. Emily leans down to Jiro’s eye level.

  “Get on my back and hold on tight,” she demands.

  Jiro’s eyes go wide. Emily lifts him up over her backpack.

  “Lock your feet around my waist,” she adds with a whisper.

  Emily grabs hold of the window seal and lifts herself and the boy out. Looking back, Jiro notices one of the suits moving up the stairs. He gasps. Shimmying along the outside edge four stories up, Emily looks for a way down. A light snowfall flutters by their faces just as the merciless wind pounds them from the right.

  “There!” Jiro gasps, pointing at a pipe that led all the way down to the bottom.

  “Shh!” Emily hisses.

  A ruckus stirs from inside the window. Emily quickens her pace. Jiro squeezes tighter and tighter. Emily grabs hold of the pipe, positioning herself.

  “You ready?” Emily whispers.

  “Yes!” Jiro says, closing his eyes tightly.

  They quickly make their way down the pole. Two stories left to go, and one of the suits pokes his head out the window.

  “There!” the man shouts, quickly pulling his head back inside and making a run for it down the stairs.

  “Shit!” Emily screeches, picking up her pace.

  Making their way down with only one story to go, she almost slips.

  “You’re heavy,” she moans to the boy.

  Her cold fingers begin to lose their grip. Jiro squeezes her neck tighter.

  “Uh-oh,” Emily says, slipping.

  Crashing into several trash cans, they knock garbage all along the back alley. Commotion stirs from around the corner while the sound of men running gets louder. Emily and Jiro quickly get their footing. Jumping toward Jiro, Emily grabs his hand and pulls him down the alley away from the suited men. Sprinting as fast as she can, Emily swivels her head, looking for where to go. Jiro looks back to see the men finally rounding the corner. He gasps. As Emily yanks the boy down another alley, they cut the corner hard and run as fast as they can. Making their way toward a busy street, they stop while cars pass. Seeing a split moment, Emily makes a run for it, lifting Jiro into her arms. Beep! A taxi driver slams on the horn while screeching the tires to a stop. Startled by the taxi, Emily almost loses her footing.

  Finally arriving on the sidewalk, they merge with the busy crowd and try to conceal themselves. The exhausted girl drops the little boy to his feet. Jiro holds Emily’s hand tightly. They continue to follow the crowd, losing their pursuers.

  “Are they gone?” Jiro asks.

/>   “I think so,” she replies, walking.

  An hour goes by, and the crowd dies down.

  Making their way around the street corner, Emily notices a small convenience store across the street.

  “You hungry?” she asks while they are stopped at the crosswalk.

  “I’m starving,” he replies with an exhale.

  “Me too,” she says.

  The crosswalk light turns green, and they make their way across the street toward the store. Bing! The door rings as they enter. A young female stands behind the register watching them come in.

  “Welcome,” the cashier mumbles from behind her magazine.

  “Thanks,” Emily responds with a smile, pushing her sunglasses up her nose to keep her face concealed.

  Keeping their heads low, they make their way down a junk food aisle. Emily grabs a handful of Slim Jims and a large bag of Skittles.

  “What do you want?” she asks him.

  He points at a bag of SweeTarts then looks at her.

  “Well, get ’em! What else you want?” she asks.

  “Can I have spicy peanuts?” he whispers.

  “Grab ’em! Whatever you want, dude,” she says with a smile.

  They make their way to the soda fountain.

  “All right, bud, what’s it gonna be?” she asks.

  “Gatorade, please,” he whispers.

  “You don’t have to whisper,” Emily whispers.

  “You don’t want hot cocoa? It’s cold outside,” she says.

  “Yes, please,” he replies.

  “You get both,” Emily says, filling up a cup for hot cocoa and one for Gatorade.

  “Here,” she says, handing him his Gatorade. He wraps one of his small arms around the big drink while holding his jumbo bag of SweeTarts and bag of peanuts with the other hand.