by Kirk Dougal
“We can get out right there?”
“No, it’s not that easy. The guards on that side use keys, just like up front. They’ll be locked out on the other side and they won’t let you through. But the old visitor area door is right there. It has a tech lock on it, which means it hasn’t been opened for years. My buddy tells me on the other side is where the civvies used to come in to visit prisoners. Through that area is another door with a tech lock. It leads to a hallway that goes around to the check-in area and the front door.”
Tar swallowed. “It sounds dangerous. Should I take Jimmy with me or leave him here with you?”
“You’ve got to take him with you. I’m getting shipped downtown tomorrow to the main jail. I won’t be here to keep you guys safe. Besides, I sent word to Jimmy’s brother. If he gets it in time, he’ll be on the outside to help you.”
“Thanks, Turbo.”
The shadow passed in front of one of the dim lights as it moved toward the cell door. “You’ll get one chance, kid. Don’t blow it.”
#
Ludler walked into the old police station, Lt. Martinez and a squad of Faithful close on his heels. The three Black Shirts working at the desk nearly fell out of their chairs as they sprang to their feet.
“We’re looking for Lt. Bankcroft,” said Ludler.
“I’m Bankcroft,” said the man in the middle. “It’s an honor to have you with us, Captain Ludler.”
“Tell me why I’m here,” Ludler said, twisting each word in his mouth. “We are searching your streets for a fixer. Tell me, Lieutenant, what have you done to find him?”
“Captain, we sent word to you because I believe we have the fixer in the holding area.”
“He’s here? How do you know?”
“I don’t know for sure, Captain. We had no way of testing him.”
Just as quickly as his heart had leaped into his throat in anticipation, Ludler felt his anger flame up. “Then what do you offer as proof, Lieutenant?”
“He’s the right age, he’s an AmJap, and…” The man hesitated. “We had an old machine that was from before The Crash. It doesn’t work.”
“Bah! No abomination from that time should work. Unless,” Ludler felt his eyes go wide, “unless he fixed the machine in front of you.”
Bankcroft shook his head. “No, sir. That would be impossible. We don’t have a battery with any power that will run the machine.”
“Then how does this prove anything?” Ludler asked.
“Because my men and I were the only ones who knew the tech wouldn’t work, but when the boy took hold of it I’ve never seen someone so scared in my life. He believed it would work if he touched it. I’d swear on it.”
Ludler studied Bankcroft for a moment. The man may be wrong and he might just be holding some boy frightened out of his mind but his reasoning made sense.
A roar erupted through the open doorway, cutting off Ludler’s thoughts. “What is that racket?”
“It’s feeding time. Fights sometimes break out,” Bankcroft said. “It will die down in a minute.”
But the shouting and noise did not abate. Instead it grew louder. One of the Faithful ran into the room from the holding area. “We need help, Lieutenant! It’s a riot!”
All of the men ran through the opening and Ludler realized he was smiling at the thought of pounding on a few prisoners.
#
As soon as the fight broke out Tar and Jimmy ran over by the door in the common area. A couple minutes later a half-dozen guards burst in, waving batons over their heads, beating any prisoner not smart enough to get out of their way.
Tar caught the door and the boys slipped through. Directly across from them was a steel wall and an old-fashioned barred gate with two Faithful laughing at them for running into a room with no means of escape.
Tar ignored them. He moved to his right where the tech-locked door was set into the wall. He slapped his hand down on the metal panel and looked at the Black Shirts. They stopped laughing when the tech flashed green and the door popped open. He pushed Jimmy through and saw the men fumbling with their keys, trying to get to them before the door clanked shut.
The next room was partitioned by a secure row of seven windows. On the other side of the thick glass were cubby holes where Tar imagined family and friends once sat as they spoke with the prisoners. At the far end was another door and that lock gave way as quickly as the first.
He and Jimmy sprinted past closed doors and down the deserted hallway. They ran to the end and turned right one last time, leaving just a few more strides before the final door. This one was unlocked.
Tar motioned for Jimmy to stay back and eased the door open. The next room was the front of the police station. They were behind the desk where the lieutenant had sat when they first arrived.
“Come on,” he whispered. “Everybody’s 404.”
As Jimmy came through the doorway Tar dashed to the side of the room, happy to see his backpack still there. He never broke stride as he grabbed it off the table. He didn’t look back for Jimmy but he heard the boy’s feet pounding the tiles behind him.
They burst out of the station and into the early morning sunshine, leaped down the front steps, and crossed the street at a dead run, ignoring the shouts of two Black Shirts watching over several horses.
Tar knew he should turn around, make sure Jimmy was keeping up with him. He knew he should pace himself because he was going to be running a long time to get away from the men after him. He knew all of that and more.
But Tar couldn’t stop running.
On the far side of the scuffle started by Turbo, Tar had seen Ludler. There was no mistaking that hateful glare, that bald head. So Tar knew he could not afford to stop. Because, no matter what, Ludler was never going to stop either.
Chapter 20
Tar ran into the shadows of the alley across the street, slipping and sliding on the garbage in the semi-dark but never losing his feet. He emerged back into the morning light at the next street, never breaking stride as he swerved around the long back end of a moving Buick Electra and on into the next alley on the far side. Tar thought he heard a man shouting but he did not stop, did not even slow his pace. Fear pushed speed into his feet and he ran.
“Left!” Jimmy panted out behind Tar and he turned down the next opening in the alley. They ran half a block before the buildings closed in on all sides, stopping them at a dead end.
“Now what?” Tar said between breaths.
“This way.”
Jimmy moved to the wall on the right where a plywood sheet was attached to the brick. He pushed on the board and it slid sideways to reveal a small loading dock opening with the overhead door missing.
“Hurry! Before someone sees you!” Jimmy jumped up onto the sill, and then into the darkness beyond.
Tar looked back down the alley. He could not see anyone but the sounds of someone running echoed off the brick walls. He leaped over the sill and landed on concrete on the far side, stumbling away from the doorway.
Jimmy slid the door into place, plunging the area into black.
“Wait,” he whispered. “It will take a second.”
Tar stood in the dark, his chest heaving. Gradually his breathing slowed and the pounding in his ears lessened. He heard the muffled voices of men on the other side of the wood.
“Can you see it now?” asked Jimmy.
Tar turned toward the voice, ready to tell the other boy he saw nothing in the dark. But then a soft glow caught his eye.
“Yes,” he whispered back. “What if they try to move the board?”
“They can’t. It has a latch on the side that you have to push in to make the door move.” Jimmy paused. “We’ll have to be careful. There are boards and empty cans all over the floor, kind of an alarm to warn us if anyone comes in this way.”
“Maybe I can help,” said Tar. He pulled his backpack off his shoulder and rummaged in the pocket until he found the f
lashlight. He pressed the switch and its light shot out across what had once been the storage area of a store.
The boys weaved their way around empty metal racks and trash strewn across the floor. Even with the dimming light Tar could see a wandering path and he followed Jimmy to a door set into a cinder block wall. The glow Tar had seen from across the room came from a small light on the door’s lock tech.
“I’ll get it.” Tar reached around Jimmy and placed his hand on the metal.
Nothing happened.
“Is that how you do it?” asked Jimmy. “You just touch it with your hand?”
“Yeah. But this is brick.”
“Chilly.” Jimmy pushed Tar’s hand out of the way and pulled on a piece of metal on the bottom of the box. Tar heard a snap and the boy swung the tech on a hinge, showing a lever on the inside. He pushed it to the side and the door popped open. “One of the guys can make things work, not like you, but he made it so the Moenes could lock this door and the one in the alley. Come on.”
Jimmy shut the fake tech box and led the way into the next room, pausing only long enough to make sure the door latched behind them. Tar barely noticed. He was moving through an old store and into the opening beyond, where the main area opened two stories upwards to the top of the building with walkways down both sides. He could not tell how far back the second floor went behind him but he suspected it went all the way to the alley over the storage area they had just walked through. To his left and right open doorways led off to smaller rooms.
A huge glass inset in the shape of an inverted “V” let in the morning sun from above and Tar noticed a big piece of canvas with a rope that trailed to a wheel attached to the ceiling. Mismatched chairs and couches were scattered all over the first floor.
“It reminds me of the building across from the school,” Tar said, “only smaller.”
“I forget what it’s called—gallah-something—but the Moenes just call it The Galley,” said Jimmy.
“What do they use it for?”
“It’s home for some of them. Others just flack out some of the time. There are beds in some of the rooms upstairs and there’s even a stove in that back room.” He gestured toward an opening in the far wall. “They jump the juice from the building next door.”
Tar walked around, looking the area over more carefully while Jimmy plopped down with a groan on a small couch. He noticed the front of the store area was boarded up, plus had metal bars in place for extra protection. He tried not to think about why they were needed.
“I don’t know about you but I’m fragged,” Jimmy said. “I thought for sure we’d get caught in the aggro and go 404.”
“It’s a good thing your friend Turbo was there to help or we’d be hard boot.” Along one wall he found a box full of books, some paper, and a few pieces of old tech. One of them caught his eye and he pulled it out of the pile. The tingle went through his hands and, after a few minutes of silence, he opened his eyes and smiled. “So where’s everyone at?”
Jimmy shrugged.
“You said that Turbo got a message to ‘em. Maybe they’re out looking for us.” Jimmy sat up. “Maybe we should go looking for them.”
Tar glanced up through the V-shaped glass and noticed he could see most of the sun. “Yeah, we’d better. I could stand something to eat, too.”
Jimmy hopped up and walked toward the front. Just then the door jiggled and a lock snapped back. Some men walked in the door, backlit by the sun’s rays. They scowled when they noticed Tar. He moved over to stand between them and Jimmy, shielding the boy with his body. Tar noticed familiar blue and orange gang colors and his breath caught in his throat when he realized who he faced. The man did not need to look twice to recognize Tar.
“Hey, Sid! Look who we got here,” he said to one of them.
Two more gang members walked through the door, the second one dragging his right foot, limping as he leaned on a crudely-fashioned cane. Tar swallowed hard. It was the guy whose foot he had stomped nearly two weeks ago.
“I’m gonna frag you, you troll,” the hobbling gangbanger said. “You’ll be lucky if you only go zom.”
Tar took a step back, keeping Jimmy behind him as he moved.
“Whoa, Sid,” said the gang leader. “Check the aggro for now. First we gotta know how he got into the Galley.”
“That’s easy.” Jimmy stepped out from behind Tar. “I showed ‘em.”
“Pup!” said the leader. “We’ve been pinging every street and alley lookin’ for you. How’d Turbo get you out of the Shirt Hotel? And what’re you doin’ with this punk?”
“Wait.” Tar looked at Jimmy. “You know this guy?”
A cock-eyed grin split Jimmy’s his face. “This is Tommy, but everyone calls him One Shoe. He’s the leader of the DT Moenes. Oh, and he’s my big brother.”
“Forget that.” One Shoe walked forward and glared at Tar. “You better start blogging.”
#
One Shoe stared at his brother after he had finished telling their story, shaking his head slowly back and forth. “If Turbo hadn’t slipped us that message,” he finally said, “I’d call that the worst damn blog I’d ever heard.”
“You’re not believin’ it, are you, Shoe?” Sid asked. Tar noticed the man glared at him every time they made eye contact.
“I got to. Turbo’s got no profit in lyin’ and Pup knows I’d beat ‘em if I thought he fictioned me.” He shook his head again before turning to look at Tar. “So you’re the made-up man, the fixer. What’s your blog?”
Tar swallowed but it caught in his throat, his tongue just a big dry lump in his mouth. “Jimmy told it just the way it was.”
“Prove it.” This was from Sid but One Shoe did not stop the order.
Tar gestured toward the box along the wall. “Any of that tech work?”
Sid just laughed. “That was all on the ground before The Crash,” he said. “Ain’t nothin’ making those bricks into apps.”
Tar reached down and picked up the tech he had held earlier. “Even this one?”
“All of ‘em.” Sid was doing most of the talking but One Shoe leaned forward in his chair, his eyes trained on Tar.
He flipped the machine to the gang leader. “Push the little button on top,” Tar said.
One Shoe looked at the tech like it might bite him but he touched the button with a dirty fingertip. Mechanical music filled the area as the game started up. Sid jumped off a couch in surprise and stifled a yell of pain from putting his weight on his injured foot.
“Frag me,” breathed One Shoe.
“Real chilly,” said Jimmy.
Tar gestured toward the boy. “I fixed it as a present for Jimmy. To thank him for getting Turbo to help me.”
One Shoe flipped the machine to his little brother. “It sounds to me like you did your share or Pup would still be 404.” He stopped when Sid cursed through clenched teeth, then watched him limp away. “Don’t mind Sid. He’s plenty mad about his foot and he’d love to flame you with some big aggro but you helped a Moene so he won’t break the code. You’re safe.”
Tar looked at Jimmy. The boy was already engrossed in the little game, lights and tinny music filling the area. “I don’t feel too safe,” Tar said.
One Shoe laughed. “Probably not.” Then he grew serious. “I want to make sure I got your blog straight on one part. You’re the guy all the shirts are looking for. You really are a straight-from-a-story fixer.” He moved even farther out on the edge of his chair. “Even with all that bad sittin’ on your head you still tried to help Pup.”
Tar shrugged. “You say it like that it doesn’t sound very smart.”
One Shoe leaned back, nearly lying down in the seat. “Maybe not smart but chilly as hell,” he said. “Moms would’ve been pretty ticked if I let him get nabbed by the Shirts but you took care of that for me.” He smiled. “So what can I do for you?”
Tar blinked. He could not have imagined the day goi
ng like this. “They killed Shovel, shot him right in front of us. My uncle,” he swallowed, ignoring for the moment what he had learned about Jahn, “died trying to help us get away. Now my book, Toby, is still out there somewhere and the Black Shirts are after him, too. I’ve got to find him.”
“Then what?”
Tar hesitated. Jahn’s warning about trusting people played through his mind. One Shoe had been willing to hurt him before Jimmy stopped him and Tar wasn’t sure Sid still would not, no matter what their gang code said. But if he was going to find Toby and try to find other fixers he needed help. “We think there are more fixers out there. I’m going to find them.”
One Shoe gave a low whistle. “More fixers. I’ll be fragged. Okay, how you going to find them?”
Tar leaned over and rummaged through his backpack. After a few seconds he pulled out the app Jahn had stolen on the day of The Crash, still wrapped in one of his extra shirts. He showed it to One Shoe. “With this. It’s got a list of fixers on it and where they were living on the day of The Crash. They may not be there now but at least it’s a start.”
One Shoe stared at him for a few seconds, then stood up. “Oso! Pockets!”
A man at the back of the open area stood up from his group and another appeared at the railing on the second floor.
“You’re going pinging for another kid. Come on down here so the fixer can tell you what he looks like.” One Shoe turned to Tar. “You know, it would probably be safer to just get out of the city when we find your book. Go up and live in the mountains away from everybody else. Shirts would never find you then.”
Tar looked at the floor. He sighed before glancing up again. “I thought about that. But they might need my help. I gotta try.”
“Just like when you helped Jimmy?”
Tar nodded as the other two gang members walked up.
“Tell them who to look for,” said One Shoe. “We’ll get `im back to you.” He started to walk away, then stopped. “Can you fix anything brick?”