by Kirk Dougal
“As long as it’s got juice and nothing’s busted, yeah.”
The gang leader nodded and vanished into one of the side rooms.
Chapter 21
The tamale beans burned Tar’s tongue but he kept chewing and sucked in a breath. Several young women had shown up at the Galley as the sun set and before long the smell of masa wafted through the entire area. Tar’s stomach grumbled loud enough to make some of the gang members laugh. Jimmy sat next to him at the table and rattled on with a mouthful of food about the game Tar had fixed earlier.
That had not been the only thing he had made app again. Throughout the afternoon gang members had come up to him with bricks. Most were music makers or games like Jimmy’s, but one had been fairly complex and similar to the tech Jahn had stolen. Another looked like Mr. Keisler’s grab-n-go computer, but this one’s side was cracked and smashed together and no matter what Tar did he could not make it work. He managed to fix the rest, even if some had batteries so weak the apps barely turned on anymore.
But now it was Tar who felt out of juice. He was so tired his eyes were shutting even as he ate. Voices across the area grabbed his attention. Pockets was talking with One Shoe while others who had gone searching for Toby were making their way back to the tables. Tar blinked hard. His eyes burned a little when he realized his friend was not in the group. One Shoe saw Tar looking their way and motioned him over.
“Tell `im what you saw,” One Shoe told Pockets.
“Shirts are everywhere, kid,” the gang member said, rubbing a hand across his face. “You can’t walk down a street without seeing riders or Shirts banging on doors. They’re not the locals, either. Shirts in our hood know better than to hassle us but these guys stopped my group three times. One time I thought we were gonna have to get all aggro ‘cause they were all over Stick and Bae.”
“They were two of the younger Moenes with Pockets,” explained One Shoe. “They look more like you, too—eyes, skin—you know.”
Tar nodded. “Did you see Toby?”
“Maybe.” Pockets shrugged. “I don’t know. One time, when the Shirts had us stopped, I saw a kid lookin’ out from an alley. I didn’t want to get him caught so I just dummied and didn’t say nothin’. We pinged for him as soon as the Shirts moved on but no dice. Might have been him. Sorry, kid.” Pockets nodded to One Shoe and left to grab some food.
“What do you want to do, Tar?” the leader asked. “We could try to get you out of here tonight, late, when it’s deep dark.”
Tar shook his head. “You wouldn’t go. You wouldn’t leave one of your Moenes if the Shirts had them.” Tar looked at One Shoe. “I’ll look for him by myself if have to.”
The gang leader smiled. “Get some sleep. I’ll wake you up if Oso has news when he gets back.”
#
Tar shook his head as he tried to wake himself up. His eyes finally focused, and he cringed back into the cracked leather couch. Sid stood over him. The banger smiled at Tar’s startled reaction.
“Come on. Some of Oso’s Moenes just got back.”
The man limped away and Tar rolled onto his feet. Several gangers were standing around One Shoe. “They found your friend,” he said over his shoulder to Tar, “but a group of Shirts surprised them and they got separated.”
“What happened?” asked Tar.
One Shoe shrugged. “They don’t know. It was dark and Oso ducked down an alley. They think your friend was still with him.”
One Shoe began talking to the Moenes about things Tar didn’t understand so he wandered back to the couch and sat down again. For the first time since he and Jimmy had escaped the jail Tar started to truly worry he would never see his friend again. Although he had believed every word when he told One Shoe he would go out and look for Toby by himself he was not really all that sure he could continue on his own. One Shoe sat down in a chair across from Tar and rubbed a hand over his face.
“What happens now?” Tar asked.
The gang leader did not answer right away. He stared at the wall above Tar’s head, his eyes glazed and unfocused. Seconds passed into a minute, long enough to make Tar wonder if something had gone seriously wrong in the search for Toby.
“Oso and I joined the Moenes and earned our marks at the same time,” One Shoe finally said, gesturing at the intricate tattoo on the side of his neck. “We had to…we had to answer a challenge and Oso was shot while we were doin’ it.” One Shoe looked at Tar. “I tried to help him get back here and he damn near hard booted me because he didn’t want help. I never seen anybody so mad in my life.” One Shoe paused a moment and his face hardened. “We’ll give Oso a little more time. If he’s not back soon, I’m gonna go out lookin’ for him. Don’t worry, kid. If anybody can bring your friend back on his own, it’s Oso.”
Voices started up from one of the side rooms and a woman cursed. A handful of Moenes at the back near the tables laughed, then returned to their conversation, quiet words floating in the air, not quite reaching the front.
Tar leaned his head back and stared up at the ceiling. He couldn’t see the glass in the dim light and he realized something was wrong. “How late is it?”
“Close to midnight, I s’pose.”
Tar looked around at the lights on the walls. They were small, only glowing bright enough for people to maneuver around the area. Just a few steps beyond One Shoe the room descended into shadows. It was the same with the Moenes at the tables. He could see black forms sitting and moving but he could not tell which dark spots were Pockets or Sid, for instance.
“Do you get tricity down here this late?”
“Nah. They shut us down, same as everywhere else.”
“Then how do you have lights?”
“Bae’s older brother was the leader of the Moenes before me, just like his uncle before him, all the way back to The Crash. Anyway, his brother, Jung, was a damn genius. He’s the one who made up the back door Jimmy brought you in. He also grepped these big shiny techs that we put on the roof. They turn sunlight into tricity and juice the batteries for the lights and stuff. After the city shuts us down for the night we run off the batteries in the Galley.”
“Chilly,” breathed Tar.
“Yeah,” One Shoe nodded. “We can get enough juice to make it look like daylight in here if we want, even run the stove a while. As soon as they shut things down at night we use the pulleys over there to move blankets across the glass up top, keep us hidden. But I had them juicin’ some different batteries after you got here so we’re runnin’ low tonight.”
“Where’s he at now? The guy who put it all together?”
“Jung? He’s dead.” One Shoe did not explain any more.
The voices in the back of the Galley stopped. Metal screeched. A snap followed. A few seconds later, the voices started up again, louder, with a few laughs thrown in.
Two shadows made their way over and One Shoe jumped to his feet. Oso walked out of the dark. The two men grabbed each other’s hands and made some quick gang gestures.
“You’re loco, Oso, but I’m damn glad to see you,” One Shoe said. “The others all beat you back.”
“I figured as much,” Oso answered. “We had to lay low in an old building and cut back through a couple of alleys to get around the shirts. They’re everywhere, Shoe. I thought we was 404 a couple of times.” He turned and waved the other shadow forward.
Tar leaped to his feet. Toby walked into the light and smiled—one shirt sleeve torn and what looked like was going to be a bad black eye—but he smiled when he saw his friend. “Nice place,” he said.
#
Oso told most of the story about what happened. Toby was too busy eating cold beans and leftover tamales, attacking the food like someone who had not eaten in days.
Oso had spotted Toby just as the Moenes were confronted by the Black Shirts. As soon as Oso felt sure no one would follow him he had taken off after the boy. After a while searching the winding dark of the alleys h
e finally saw Toby sitting in the edge of a shadow, watching Black Shirts down the street going building to building. Oso didn’t take chances and he grabbed Toby. The boy panicked, fighting back with all the ferocity and strength he could muster, thinking he’d been grabbed by a Shirt. Oso had needed to hit Toby and knock him half-senseless and, after carrying the boy a couple blocks he managed to convince Toby he was taking him to see Tar.
“Not that I could have done anything about it anyway,” Toby whispered to Tar. “I thought my head exploded when he hit me.”
His voice had carried in the quiet because Oso chuckled, a deep rumbling sound like a half-full barrel rolling on a hill. “But you kept punching, pequeno luchador.” Oso rose to his feet and put his hand on Toby’s shoulder, his thick knuckles looking like knots in the dark tan rope of his fingers. “That’s all anybody can ask of an amigo.”
“Uh…thanks?” Toby said, rubbing the tender area on the side of his face.
Oso chuckled again and walked off toward one of the rooms.
“So what were you doing out there when Oso found you?” Tar asked.
Toby stopped shoveling in the food long enough to shrug. “Anything I could to stay away from the Black Shirts. After they grabbed you I found a place to stay in a building down the street. The next morning I moved in closer to see what was going on. I thought maybe you might have a chance to, you know…do your thing. About then, a whole bunch of them go riding up to the front door.” He paused. “The bald guy was leading them.”
Toby nodded. “Ludler. I thought I saw him inside the jail when Jimmy and I were getting out.”
“Yeah. Anyway, I saw you come bustin’ out the front with the little kid. I was going to follow you but the ones out front went pounding after you. There was no way I could beat them to the alley with the head start they had, so I cut down the street, figuring I’d pick you up on the far side.” Toby started laughing. “I ain’t never seen you run so fast. I couldn’t even dream of catchin’ you. You came flying out into the next street—scared the crap out of that guy driving that big old car, the kid right there with you, too. I cut to the next street, thinking I’d catch you there but you never came out.” He turned to One Shoe. “I was looking for a safe place to settle in for the night when Oso came up on me.”
“I’m glad they didn’t catch you,” Tar said.
Toby shook his head and leaned back in his chair. “I’m sorry, Tar. You’re my book and I didn’t do anything to get you out of that jail. I should’ve done something.”
One Shoe blew his lips. “Like what, kid? Take on the Shirts by yourself? You could’ve gone for help, if you had anybody to go to, but then you would’ve missed him and Jimmy bustin’ out.” The Moene leader punched his finger down on the table top, punctuating each word. “You never leave one of your own behind. Sometimes that means tough choices. Your best chance was to wait for the right time, and then do whatever you could to help when the chance came. You did all right or Oso wouldn’t have gone so easy on you.”
Toby touched the growing black mark under his eye.
One Shoe turned to Tar. “You still want to try to find the other fixers? Or you want help getting up into the mountains?”
Tar glanced at Toby and the other boy just shrugged. Tar realized this was his decision. “I need to find them. They might need help.”
“Okay.” One Shoe tapped his fingers on the table again. “You know where you’re goin’ first?”
“Winchester Street was the closest. We’re going to start there.”
The gang leader clicked his tongue and twisted his head to the side.
“That’s outside Moene territory. I can’t get you all the way there.” He stood up and stretched his arms high before looking down at the boys. “But I got a couple of ideas. You guys look juiced out. Get some sleep. In the morning I’ll tell you what I got in mind.”
Chapter 22
Little more than an hour past dawn, Tar and Toby followed a group of Moenes out the front door of the Galley. The boys held blankets over their heads and quickly moved to a car at the curb, gang members flanking them to protect them from curious eyes. But the battered vehicle was the real attention-getter, painted yellow with crisscrossing black stripes and a faded poster of a half-dressed woman on the roof.
Tar leaped across the backseat so Toby could follow him in the door when a rotten stench mixed with exhaust fumes swam into his nose, drifting up through the hole in the floorboard on the passenger side. Tar and Toby both started coughing but Oso just laughed as he plopped down beside them.
“Don’t worry, amigos,” he said. “It’ll clear once we start moving.”
About a half dozen Moenes piled onto the trunk of the car, each one bouncing the back end lower until Tar was sure he felt it hit the road. Jimmy squeezed into the middle of the front seat before One Shoe sat down beside him and signaled to the driver to take off.
Tar stared out the window as they pulled away from the building. He could only remember being in a car once before when Mr. Coppen had taken him along to pick up equipment to repair one of the heating units in the apartment building. Now, just in the past few days, he had ridden in two vehicles. He tried not to think about the fact that both times he had needed to hide as a part of the ride. He looked at Toby and saw his friend gawking at the surroundings while wearing a grin.
They drove down street after street, and Tar stared at the buildings. Some structures still looked relatively clean, seemingly ready for their owners to move right back in. Tar knew, however, that daylight had not illuminated their boarded-up interiors since The Crash. Yet other buildings were on the verge of collapse. Oddly enough, these were the ones with people moving in and out. Tar decided it was the people, not the elements, who wore these sad structures down, taking whatever they needed as they moved through life and on down the road.
They drove past dozens of side streets. Some were wide open asphalt paths, leading off to some distant neighborhood, other buildings, and other people. Some streets were jammed full of empty cars and trucks, reflecting the morning sunlight, abandoned and ownerless. These were the newer vehicles, the ones that used to talk to the air. When The Crash came they went into their own sort of hard boot.
That was why they rode in a smelly old car with the street zipping by under his feet through a hole in the floor. It was too old to have tech so it had survived The Crash and fired back to life, useful once more, as long as the driver could afford gas.
One Shoe waved a hand to the driver and pointed. They turned a slow semi-circle in the street and stopped by the curb. Tar was surprised when the back of the car suddenly bounced up in the air. He turned and saw the Moenes had hopped off the trunk.
One Shoe opened the car door. “Wait here. You, too, Pup,” he said to his brother, who had slid away from the middle of the seat. Jimmy made a disappointed sound but sat still.
The gang members walked to the closest side street and One Shoe began gesturing with his hands as he spoke. A short Moene with purple and green hair walked over to a dented blue BMW on their right and pulled a huge set of keys from his jacket pocket. He tried a couple in the door and finally hit pay dirt on the third attempt. Without hesitating he hopped inside. The other Moenes walked to the front of the car and pushed it out into the street, moving it close to the curb.
Tar had no idea what One Shoe had in mind but he watched in fascination as the Moene with the keys moved to the next car in line. This one was a deep red color that still sparkled in the sun.
He and Toby both jumped when a metallic clunk came from behind them. Most of the gang members had moved to the back of the car and raised the trunk, blocking whatever they were doing from view. A few seconds later a pair of Moenes walked by carrying an oblong, silver and black box between them. They went to the red car where the purple-and-green haired Moene had raised the hood and the duo placed their box inside. They carried six of the boxes in multiple trips. Each time One Shoe leaned over the qu
arter panel his upper body disappearing into the front area of the car. Finally, he gestured toward the boys and they wasted no time opening the doors and walking toward the gang leader.
“Here’s your surprise,” One Shoe said to Tar. “Can you fix it?”
Tar leaned one way and then the other, his eyes never leaving the red paint on the car. “I can try,” he answered. “Does it have any gas?”
One Shoe laughed. “Doesn’t need it. It runs on tricity. We juiced those batteries last night.”
Tar stepped up beside the car. “Electrol,” he said before looking up. “What’s a Coupe 3.0?”
One Shoe leaned back against the nearest car and shrugged.
Tar looked back down and reached out, his fingers trembling until they caressed the side of the vehicle. Nothing happened. “I don’t feel anything.”
“There’s a black metal box in the front with the batteries,” One Shoe said. “Jung always swore that was the brains, the tech. Try that.”
Tar nodded and leaned into the front like he had seen One Shoe do. This time, as soon as his skin touched the box the tingle climbed up his arms to his head.
Right away Tar was surprised. He had expected the car to be overwhelming, crushing his mind between layers upon layers of pathways and tech. Instead, the machine was easy to navigate, making his way without effort through the long maze of lights and alleys. Sure, he ran into one big ball of twisted paths and dead ends. He even found another area where the light wanted to disappear beneath the black of the unused halls. But overall it was not even as hard to fix as Jahn’s app.
He opened his eyes, ready to say how easy the work had been, but then he noticed the sun overhead and Oso snoring where he lay on the hood of a nearby car. Even Toby and Jimmy were sitting in the shade of an unused doorway.
“How long?” Tar asked.
“How long you been bangin’ on it?” One Shoe asked. “I don’t know, maybe two hours. You was humming for a while and you kept moving your head back and forth but your friend said that’s how it worked so we let you keep at it.”