“I told you to look at the door. Zoom in and read the sign.”
Kurt reached down to pick up the Two-Way. A twinge shot up his left arm, much further than before. Minter saw him wince.
“How’s the hand?” Minter asked.
“Fine.” Kurt looked down at it and tried to spread his fingers. This was more difficult than it should have been.
“Let me see.”
Kurt pulled away. “I said it’s fine.”
“I’m on your side here, man. Just let me check it out.”
Kurt reluctantly held his arm out and rolled up his sleeve. Minter looked at the skin below Kurt’s wrist, now noticeably greyer than the last time he had looked just hours earlier. He then eyed the makeshift dressing on Kurt’s palm. Kurt agreed to lift it.
The wound itself had worsened too, with the small patch of dark crimson now surrounded by a crust tinged blue like month-old bread.
“You need help,” Minter said. “Today.”
“What time will we arrive?”
“Tomorrow,” Minter said. “Are your ears broken or something? I told you a hundred times that we’d be driving all night for two nights and laying low during the day.”
Kurt rolled his sleeve back up and pulled his arm away. “Stop being such a drama queen. It’s not like it’s spreading,” he said, doing a reasonable job of hiding his own concern over the fact that his hand looked like it had been bitten by a zombie. He couldn’t feel any pain when he held it still, but he knew that this might have been down to the long-lasting strength of the painkillers more than anything else.
“This isn’t the time to play tough guy, Kurt. What happens if you pass out or go into some kind of shock? I can’t take you to a hospital, and I sure as hell can’t arrive at Ernesto with you lying dead in the back seat.”
“So we’ll drive during the day and get there early,” Kurt said. “I’ll be fine until then. You can wear your sunglasses and I can lie flat. No one will see us. Just get the gas and get out of here.”
“About that…”
Kurt looked into Minter’s eyes. “About what?”
“These aren’t the new Seed-only pumps that I know how to trick. These aren’t even regular pumps. They're inside anti-theft cages, and I think you have to get a key from the guy to unlock them.”
“No way,” Kurt said. “Just… no way. Drive somewhere else.”
“This is the fourth place I’ve tried, man. There were other people getting gas at every other station I found. Someone would have seen me.”
“This guy will see you! How can you even contempla—”
“Look at the door,” Minter said calmly.
Kurt held the Two-Way up and zoomed in on the door. He saw a sign: “CASH/BARTER ONLY. NO CAMERAS, NO EXCEPTIONS.”
“Now look at the guy,” Minter said.
Kurt looked. He saw a 60-something man with short white hair reading a fishing magazine at the counter. “What exactly am I supposed to be looking at?” he asked.
“The empty space beside his head,” Minter replied. “No profile. He’s a holdout.”
Kurt checked the side of the Two-Way to make sure the switch was set to augmented. It was.
“I bet he would trade gas for that Two-Way,” Minter continued. "And if I say I need something for my hand, he might give me something that could help yours.”
“We might need this,” Kurt said, grasping the Two-Way protectively. “There must be something else he would take.” Minter was glad to hear that Kurt’s opposition to the idea of him going inside had already waned enough that he was considering the specifics of what they could trade.
“Maybe,” Minter replied. “Either way, going in is our only option.”
Kurt looked around. The station’s forecourt really was deserted, and the man inside really was unseeded. “It still feels like too big a risk,” he thought out loud.
“Walking to Stacy’s was a bigger risk than this,” Minter said. “I have to go in, so I might as well do it while it’s dark and there’s no one else around. He’s not going to recognise me, man; it’s not like I’m you.”
Kurt sighed and slouched in his seat. “You would have to know exactly what you were going to say,” he said. This was as close to an “I guess you’re right” as Minter would ever get from Kurt, so he took it for what it was.
“I already have it figured out,” Minter replied. “He seems like a pretty private guy, but if he does ask why I don’t have a Seed then I’ll say I’ve been out of the country for a few months. I’m a chef on a cruise ship. I cut my hand working and I can’t get seeded until it heals.”
Kurt shrugged. “Just make sure you take your Lenses out first, in case he checks.”
Minter thought for a second and conceded that Kurt might be right. “Do you really think he will? I wanted to stream my vision back to the computer so you could see what was happening.”
“Take my phone,” Kurt said. “Open the app called Walkie and keep it hidden in your pocket. I’ll be able to hear everything on the computer. And as long as you stay in front of the windows I’ll be able to zoom in and see you with my Lenses, anyway. It's not worth the risk for you to wear yours.”
Minter silently accepted Kurt’s idea and drove into the station’s forecourt. He removed his Lenses then took the Two-Way and Kurt's phone, quickly launching the Walkie app. “Move into my seat while the guy’s not looking,” he said, stepping out of the car.
“Why?”
Minter opened Kurt’s door. “You might have to use your judgement here, man,” he said. “If things start to go wrong, stay low. But if things start to go really wrong, get the hell out of here.”
5
Minter walked confidently towards the gas station’s front door and knocked on the glass. He and Kurt both knew that if the man inside was going to recognise him, it would happen straight away. The next few seconds were crucial.
The man ambled to the door. Kurt zoomed in and saw the name Harry embroidered on the left breast of his shirt. Pristine and perfectly pressed, the shirt was in stark contrast to Minter’s well-creased suit.
Harry met Minter’s gaze with no hint of familiarity. He then held his eyes wide open with his fingers, signalling for Minter to do the same. Minter obliged. Harry leaned in close against the door. Satisfied that Minter wasn’t wearing UltraLenses, he unlocked it.
Minter raised his thumb behind his back as he went inside, grateful for Kurt’s warning about the Lenses.
“So,” Harry said, getting straight down to business. “Cash for gas?”
Minter took the Two-Way from his pocket, extended the screen, and handed it to Harry. “I don’t have any cash,” he said. “But cash can’t buy you one of these.”
Harry’s eyes flicked between Minter and the Two-Way a few times.
“It lets you see what you would see if you had Lenses,” Minter explained.
Harry handed it back. “Not interested,” he said. He spoke in a slow, out of place drawl.
“You don’t understand,” Minter said. “This could save your life. It broadcasts emergency audio transmissions; it lets you see what everyone else is seeing; it tells you who you’re talking to.”
Harry held the Two-Way up to Minter’s face. “Ain’t telling me nothing about you.”
“Only because I’m not on the grid.”
“That so?” Harry asked. He looked down at the small bandage on Minter’s left hand. “And exactly how long have you been off the grid?”
Minter played dumb and ran with the story that he was a chef who had just returned to the country. He added that he wouldn’t need the Two-Way once his hand healed and he was able to get his Seed. It all sounded plausible enough, Kurt thought from the safety of the car.
“You don’t strike me as a chef,” Harry said.
Kurt took a deep breath. Small talk was not Minter’s strong point, and the stakes were as high as they could be. Kurt hoped that he would say something to move the conversation on quickly; “I don’t w
ear the white hat when I’m not working,” or something stupid like that.
But Minter surprised him with a neat segue. “If I was seeded, the Two-Way would tell you all of that,” he said. “You would know my name, age, occupation… everything. Normally people have to give up their own privacy to see any of that. Not with a Two-Way, though. This thing is priceless.”
“Priceless? Seems to me like the price is a tank of gas.”
“Like I said,” Minter replied, his calm tone again impressing Kurt, “I won’t have any need for it once my injury heals and I get my Seed. But if you feel like you’re ripping me off, I guess you could throw in some medical supplies.”
Harry grinned. “Sure thing.” He placed the Two-Way on the counter and led Minter to another area, taking them both out of Kurt’s eyeline. “Now, what exactly are you looking for? Trying to treat something specific?”
“Just a flesh wound,” Minter said. “So a clean dressing and some antiseptic wipes and cream would be a good start. And maybe something to control an infection. Worst case it could be blood poisoning. We don't know.”
Harry paused. “We?”
Helpless in the car, Kurt cursed himself for ever believing that Minter wouldn’t screw up.
“It's for, uh, for my friend,” Minter stuttered. “He's in pretty bad shape."
“Sounds like it. I reckon you need a hospital, not a gas station.”
Minter didn’t respond.
"Listen, I ain't ordinarily one for prying, so do forgive. But when a man walks through my door at 5am trying to trade a “priceless” gadget for a tank of gas and some “medical supplies" for his friend who might have goddamn blood poisoning… well, even this old mind gets curious."
Kurt heard only silence. In Minter's defence, he couldn't think of a response either.
"This friend of yours wouldn't happen to be in your car, would he?"
There was another silence. Kurt willed Minter to end this one with the word no. He didn't.
Harry continued: “Son, I don't know what you're running from, but I’ve been in those shoes. If your friend needs help then you can bring him inside and we'll see what we can do.”
Kurt began to wonder, half seriously, whether it might actually be safe for him to take Harry up on his offer. No one else was going to show up at this run-down gas station, and its holdout owner probably wouldn't even recognise Kurt. He was weighing up his options when Minter suddenly broke the silence. "I'll just take the gas and be on my way," he said.
“If that's the way you want it,” Harry replied without hesitation. His voice sounded doubtful, somehow, but Kurt couldn’t really discern much without seeing his face.
Right on cue, Minter and Harry came into view as they walked towards the door. Only now, zoomed out to a regular view, did Kurt see the extent of the height difference between the two men. Minter was taller than most, but Harry almost looked like a child next to him.
Harry took a key out of his pocket. "I'll open the lock for you,” he said.
“I’ll manage,” Minter replied.
Harry opened the door and walked outside. “All part of the service," he said.
"No, really," Minter said. He stepped directly in front of Harry, holding out a hand to receive the key. "I insist."
Throughout this brief but awkward stand-off, Kurt saw more than a hint of passive aggression in each man’s expression and posture.
Harry looked over Minter's shoulder to the car. Kurt ducked.
“What is it that you don't want me to see, son?" Harry asked, his tone now dripping with overt suspicion. “Have you got someone in there against their will?"
“What the hell kind of a question is that?” Minter replied, trying and failing to compose himself as the situation spiralled towards disaster.
At that point, and with little thought, Kurt adjusted his hood and stepped out of the car before Minter could talk himself into any more trouble. "Is there a problem with the gas?" he called over.
"I'm just waiting for the guy to give me the key,” Minter said. “You can wait in the car. You know… like we talked about.”
Harry handed Minter the key and walked towards Kurt. “I hear you've got some kind of wound that needs seeing to?"
The circling tension gave way to an air of inevitability. With nothing left to do but watch, Minter couldn’t even do that. He closed his eyes tightly like a child who hoped it would make him invisible.
Kurt had no such luxury as Harry walked towards him. “Oh, it’s nothing,” he said, hiding his left arm at his side. “Really.”
Harry reached the car and stopped right in front of Kurt. “I’m happy to take a look.”
Still hooded, Kurt turned his head to the side. With Harry only inches away, the possibility of being recognised had gone from a hypothetical long shot to a genuine concern.
“Is the wound on your face?” Harry asked, misinterpreting Kurt’s shying away. “Because if you’ve got something up there bad enough that your friend is worried about blood poisoning, you really want to get that checked out.”
Kurt didn’t reply. He stood facing the car, hoping that Harry would lose interest and go away. What he didn’t count on was Harry seeing his reflection in the car window.
Harry stepped back. “Wait,” he said. “I know you.”
Kurt didn’t move. Minter didn’t move.
“You’re Kurt Jacobs.”
Kurt met Harry’s gaze. “Keep your voice down. We’ll talk inside.”
Wholly taken aback by Kurt’s presence, Harry nodded and started towards the door.
Minter walked over to Kurt. “What now, man?”
Kurt sighed. “He has to come with us.”
~
“What do you mean come with us?” Minter asked. “We can’t carry dead weight. And what would we even say when we got there? “Hey Ernesto, by the way… we brought this random old guy. You know, in case you’re short of mouths to feed.””
Kurt tried to keep his temper. He knew that Harry wouldn’t have been a problem had Minter not slipped up and revealed that he had a friend in the car. On its own this was a forgivable error; a genuine mistake, not unlike Kurt’s own slip of the tongue in The Treehouse the previous week. But now that Minter was mocking Kurt’s suggestion for how to deal with Harry — which Kurt knew was their only viable option — he felt his anger growing.
“Listen,” Kurt said sternly. “He knows that I’m alive, so he comes with us.”
Unbudging, Minter shook his head.
“Well we’re definitely not killing him,” Kurt said.
Minter narrowed his eyes and lowered his voice. “Why would you even say that, man?”
“I said we’re not.”
“But why would your mind even go there?”
“You want to know where my mind is?” Kurt asked. “My mind is on Randy, Julian, and Sabrina. My mind is on them being safe and this whole thing having a chance of working because Amos thinks we’re dead. But, thanks to you, some guy in a gas station knows we’re not. Sure he’s a holdout, but what happens if he talks? What happens if they put up a reward, even just for you? You really think he would turn down their money out of principle?”
Minter didn’t have a reply.
“And we both know what happens next,” Kurt went on. “Someone knocks on Randy’s door one day. Sabrina answers.”
“Come on, man,” Minter said. “This doesn’t help anyone.”
Kurt ignored him. “Hello, young lady, they say. We’re with the police.”
Minter tried to inch away from Kurt, whose voice was growing quieter with every sentence, but Kurt followed his lean.
“Your Uncle Kurt’s alive, they say. She can’t believe it. She smiles; she laughs; she hugs them. They push her away.”
“Seriously, man, shut up.”
Kurt shook his head. “We know you knew, they say. She tells them she didn’t. She promises; she swears; she crosses her heart. They don’t listen.”
Minter looked uncomforta
bly to the ground. Kurt stared at his eyes, anyway, and now spoke in barely a whisper.
“Come with us, they say. We need you to help us send him a little message.”
“Okay!” Minter finally snapped. “But you’re explaining it to Ernesto.”
Kurt accepted this without argument. He didn’t know what the worst case scenario with Ernesto might be, but it couldn’t possibly come close to the cost of Amos learning the truth.
“Let me talk Harry into it, though,” Minter continued. “I can be pretty convincing.”
Kurt believed that. He looked through the glass door at Harry, who was sitting patiently behind the counter, waiting for them to follow him in. Kurt entered first and stood at the customer side of the counter. With sunrise looming, he kept his hood raised on the off chance that another customer might arrive.
“Well?” Harry said. “Is someone going to explain this to me?”
Minter accepted the challenge. “How much do you know about Sycamore?”
Harry shrugged. “Enough. I know that everything has gone to hell since your friend here gave them the chip. I know that my internet doesn’t work, my TV doesn’t work, and no one is buying my gas. That’s about all, I guess, what with the weekly paper being the only news I still get.”
“So you don’t know what happened on Friday?” Minter said.
Harry leaned back in his chair. “Enlighten me.”
Minter briefly recounted Kurt’s failed plan to expose Sycamore’s snooping and the ruthless reaction he had provoked from Amos. He touched on the newly fast-tracked plans for compulsory seeding and currency digitisation, stressing that such moves impacted everyone; especially holdouts like Harry. He ended by explaining that he and Kurt had cut the Seeds from each other’s palms and faked their own deaths.
Harry listened intently until Minter finished. He looked at Kurt. “So you’re running away?” he asked, a hint of disdain tinging the words. “You caused this whole damn mess and now you’re just going to run away from it?”
Minter answered before Kurt had a chance: “He’s not running away.”
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