Sycamore 2

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Sycamore 2 Page 7

by Craig A. Falconer


  “Looks like running away to me.”

  “This is the opposite of running away,” Minter insisted. “This is fighting back.

  “Where do you fit in, anyway?” Harry asked.

  “I worked at Sycamore for a while, too,” Minter replied, downplaying his role ever so slightly. “And Amos wanted rid of me because I didn’t like what he did on Friday, so he framed me for kidnapping Kurt. Two birds with one stone, I guess.”

  There was no denying that the truth sounded crazy when spoken out loud, and Harry wouldn’t have believed a word of it were it not for the fact that Kurt Jacobs himself was standing in front of him, bloody hand and all.

  Harry looked around nervously. “Are you sure no one followed you here?”

  “Surer than sure,” Kurt said.

  Minter nodded in agreement. “Ten thousand per cent.”

  Harry rose and walked to the door without speaking. He held it open. “I’ll give you a tank of gas for the gadget, good as my word, but I need you to leave. Now.”

  Still standing at the counter ten or fifteen paces from the door, Kurt whispered into Minter’s ear: “This is probably the part where you talk him into it.”

  “About that,” Minter said loudly. He waved his hand for Harry to close the door, but Harry didn’t budge. “Fine. So here’s the thing: we’re actually on our way to put things right.”

  “No time like the present,” Harry said, tilting his head towards the car.

  Minter kept his expression blank. “Anyway, I’m sure a smart man like you appreciates that in our particular situation, well, stealth is of the essence.”

  “I’m sure it is,” Harry said.

  “Right. So I’m sure a smart man like you appreciates that we can’t leave any loose ends along the way…”

  Harry intensified his gaze.

  “And that’s why you need to come with us,” Minter finished.

  “Not in this lifetime,” Harry said. “And I ain’t no loose end, son. You say you weren’t followed? Means there’s nothing to worry about. But say someone did show up here asking questions. I’d tell them that I don’t talk to strangers. That my premises are for customers only.”

  Frustrated by Minter’s lack of progress, Kurt joined the conversation at this point. “That’s not a risk we can take,” he said.

  “Where I come from a man’s word is granite,” Harry replied. “I took you boys at yours, and I expect the same courtesy.”

  Kurt shrugged.

  “That’s it? A shrug? Try to see this from my side. Here I am minding my own business when some punk kid walks in acting like I owe him something. But not just any punk kid, see, this is the one who sold the world down the river with his poisonous Devil Seed.”

  "Maybe I am the guy who ruined everything,” Kurt said. “But guess what? Maybe I’m the only guy who can fix it. Maybe this guy beside me knows Sycamore’s security better than anyone, and maybe the guy we’re going to meet will only let him help if I’m there to vouch.”

  Harry took a step away from the door and let it swing closed behind him. He walked towards the counter. Kurt reflexively straightened his posture in anticipation of a confrontation, but Harry walked all the way round to the other side. He opened a drawer and searched for something.

  “This guy who you’re going to meet,” he said, continuing to search as he spoke. “Ernesto Something-ino, right? Pennarino? Parradino?”

  Kurt and Minter turned to each other.

  “Ah, here we go,” Harry said. He placed an old portable CD-radio on the counter and extended it’s mini antenna.

  “You picked up the signal?” Kurt asked.

  “It’s the only thing on the air. And how smart can this guy of yours be if he’s advertising himself like this? They could track him just like that,” Harry said, snapping his fingers.

  “They can track down the origin of the transmission,” Minter corrected. “And they did. But that doesn’t help them find him. All he says is north. If you were to close your eyes, spin around, and pick a direction, there’d be a one in four chance you’d know roughly the same as they do.”

  That Amos had found the origin of Ernesto’s radio transmission was news to Kurt, but he knew that this wasn’t the time to push for details.

  “So how do you know where to find him?” Harry asked.

  This question led to Kurt expanding on Minter’s earlier rundown, filling in the gaps in his explanation until Harry understood that the link between Kurt and Ernesto was Stacy. He told Harry about the address they found in her house and shared grisly details of the last time he saw her. “She was blown to pieces in front of my eyes,” he said. “I had Amos gloating in my ear and two of his goons holding me back. That’s what we’re dealing with here. That’s who we’re dealing with.”

  Harry was visibly softening to their plight. He turned the radio on and listened to a loop of Ernesto’s message. “The part about him wanting people with knowledge of how it all works makes it sound like he was talking to you two the whole time,” he said, “but I’ve been picking up this signal for at least a month.”

  “He knew that Sycamore would notice the message and that employees would hear it,” Minter said. “I think he just wanted us — us as in individual employees — to know that there were people opposed to what we were doing.”

  Harry looked at the radio again.

  “You’d be back in a week,” Minter said, seizing on what he thought was a good opportunity. “But we know it’s an upheaval so you would be very well compensated.”

  This surprised Kurt but he waited to see how Harry would react.

  “Define very well,” Harry replied. It was the kind of answer Kurt had hoped for.

  “How about more money than you could ever spend?” Minter said.

  Harry’s eyes widened. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah,” Minter insisted. “Right, Kurt?”

  Kurt nodded.

  “And this is for one week?” Harry asked, keen to confirm that the offer wasn’t too good to be true. Minter’s confidence in his own ability to access and hijack Sycamore’s systems had convinced Harry that success was almost inevitable. He knew that there were risks associated with going, but he likewise knew that there were risks associated with staying. Compulsory seeding was on the horizon so if Harry could offer any kind of assistance in the fight to stop it, he would be greatly improving his own future life. The promise of a big payday tipped the balance.

  “No guarantees,” Minter admitted, “but six to nine days is a pretty conservative target.”

  Harry clapped his hands together to mark his decision. “I’m in.”

  6

  “We’ll leave your car in the garage and take my truck,” Harry said. “How far is the place from here?”

  Minter told Harry that he didn’t know the exact distance but had the ZIP code of the mail locker. Harry flipped to the index of the thick road atlas on the counter and announced that they would need more gas than the tank would hold. He knew about the restrictions on buying any type of fuel without a Seed so asked Minter to fetch some jerrycans from the storage room. Minter went to get them.

  Kurt asked Harry to go to the page which showed the location. “Right around there,” Harry said, pointing to part of the grid suggested by the index. Kurt looked closely and was delighted to see the words “Barnford Mall” exactly where the address was leading them. This had to be the mall Stacy’s letter mentioned, he thought, and its proximity to the locker made it likely that Ernesto would be able to check for mail daily.

  “Good news?” Harry asked as he watched Kurt’s expression change.

  “Yeah,” Kurt said. Harry didn’t press further.

  Kurt walked around the few short aisles which constituted the convenience store part of Harry’s failing business.

  “The medical supplies are over there if you need something for your hand,” Harry said.

  “Thanks.”

  “Do you want me to take a look at it?”

  Kur
t saw no harm in this. He put his hand on the counter, palm up, and looked at Harry’s eyes to read his initial reaction. It was muted.

  “Yup,” Harry said. “My old man woulda called that a hurter and a healer; sure as hell gonna hurt but sure as hell gonna heal. Keep it clean and give it time. Nothing else for it. How could your boy think this was blood poisoning? I’d say get wipes and a dressing for now and maybe a barrier cream for once it starts to heal. You get that, I’ll grab some food.”

  Kurt walked to get the things Harry suggested, pleasantly surprised by how unmoved he was by the wound. Kurt began to think that he had been worrying about nothing; he marked the light nausea he had experienced in the car and kept secret from Minter down to extreme stress.

  Minter emerged from the store room with as many five-gallon jerrycans as he could carry. “So where’s the truck?” he asked.

  “My wife has it. She should be here around seven.”

  “What?” Kurt snapped. “You didn’t think to mention that before now?” The wait of little over an hour was no major problem, but this revelation of another person to talk into coming with them definitely was.

  “We had to sell our other car,” Harry explained, as if that was the part Kurt cared about. “Usually when it’s Joyce’s shift she’ll drive the truck here then I’ll drive it home until it’s my turn again. That’s how the past month has been.”

  Kurt ignored all of this and focused on what mattered. “Are you sure you’ll be able to persuade her to come?” he asked.

  “I won’t need to. When she hears that we can secure our future for a week’s work, if you can even call it that, she’ll be halfway there before I close my mouth.”

  Minter and Kurt shared an uneasy look. All things considered, their journey so far had been relatively straightforward. And if Joyce was as receptive to the idea as Harry predicted, they would actually be in a better position than they had been before Minter knocked on the gas station’s front door. With plenty of fresh supplies, enough gas to take them the whole way, and a new driver who would allow them both to hide safely in the back, Kurt came to see that they may have just accidentally hit the jackpot.

  “Okay,” Kurt said. “We’ll wait in the storage room.”

  Harry held out his hand. “Go right on through. If you give me your keys I’ll put the car in the garage, out of sight. We’ll load your things into the truck when it’s here.”

  Kurt reached into his pocket and felt a flood of panic as he realised that the keys were still in the car. He dashed to the door and breathed a deep sigh of relief when he saw that the car was still there.

  “Keys inside?” Harry smiled.

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  Kurt watched as Harry drove the car into the adjoining garage. He wondered briefly again who the car belonged to and how they would deal with it being stolen, then shook the unhelpful thoughts out of his head. He would find a way to make it up to them.

  One thing at a time.

  As soon as Harry returned with the keys, Kurt and Minter retreated to the storage room. The doorknob was a little stiff and the poorly lit room smelled more like dampness than gas. Aside from the corduroy couch Kurt sat on, there was nothing on the floor other than the two jerrycans Minter hadn’t been able to carry and a few empty cardboard boxes. On the wall opposite the couch there was a dart board, of all things, with three darts lying admirably close to the treble twenty.

  “It’s going to work out,” Minter said as he sat down. The couch offered little support, but it beat standing.

  Kurt gave a cautious nod in reply. Minter accepted the silence, which remained intact for the next thirty minutes, at which point they heard a loud chiming sound from a previously unseen speaker on the ceiling, presumably meaning that someone had opened the front door.

  Minter stood up and stepped towards the storage room’s exit. Kurt, who had drifted into a light sleep before the chime, pulled him back and brought a finger to his lips.

  They listened intently, ears pressed against the door, but heard nothing. After what seemed like an eternity of this, Minter returned to the couch. “It might have just been Harry going outside for something,” he said.

  “Yeah,” Kurt replied, joining Minter on the couch.

  He had barely sat down when the stiff doorknob began to rattle. They both turned towards the sound and saw the door swing open to reveal Harry and Joyce.

  “Ready to go?” Harry asked, making no fuss over his success in persuading Joyce.

  “Yeah,” they both said at once.

  “I’ll have to stop at home to pack some things, if that’s okay,” Joyce said. Though her accent matched Harry’s, she spoke with a gentleness that bordered on frailty. If Kurt had to guess her age he would have said 71 or 72. This was probably only six or seven years older than Harry, but Harry moved and spoke with an intensity that made the difference seem greater.

  The sight of Joyce brought two concerns. First, Kurt worried that Ernesto’s group’s base would be uncomfortable and ill-equipped for someone of her age. Second, and less kindly, he knew that she would likely prove an unmitigated burden.

  “Of course,” Kurt said, shaking all of that to one side. “If we were going ourselves we couldn’t have left until tonight, anyway.”

  Harry clapped his hands, as he seemed to have a habit of doing, and ushered everyone out of the storage room. “Come on, then. This truck ain’t loading itself.”

  As the three men walked outside, Joyce packed a small bag of potentially useful items like matches and batteries, as well as some snacks and magazines for the ride.

  Kurt’s hand ruled out much heavy lifting, so he carefully moved his computer and all of the other fragile objects from the car into Harry’s truck. It was a medium-sized box truck, like the ones people rented for a few hours when they were moving. There was plenty of space for Kurt and Minter in the back, but it probably wouldn’t be too comfortable.

  Minter carried each jerrycan to the truck and placed it inside while Harry was filling the next, a method which enabled assembly-line like efficiency.

  Kurt climbed in with the last of his bags and tried to make himself comfortable against the side. He hoped to fall asleep and knew he could fashion a makeshift pillow out of his clothes. Minter soon joined him, his hands reeking of gasoline even more than the cans themselves.

  Joyce came out with her supplies just as Harry was lowering the not-quite-airtight door, which looked and worked like a garage door. “Do they have a light?” she asked.

  “No,” Minter called.

  Joyce shook her head at Harry and ordered him to lift the door. “Here you go,” she said, handing Kurt two small flashlights from her bag. Upon seeing Kurt and Minter both lying slouched against the sides of the truck, she promised to pick up some pillows for them when she was gathering her things at home.

  As soon as the truck set off, Kurt used the meagre glow of his flashlight to find his computer. He basked in the screen’s illuminated glory until he noticed a red exclamation mark flashing the top right corner. “Battery’s almost dead,” he said glumly.

  Minter shrugged. “I told you not to waste it, man. Same goes for the flashlights.”

  Kurt couldn’t be bothered arguing the point. He closed the computer and soon thought he felt his eyes closing, too, but the darkness in the back of the truck was the kind that made it difficult to be sure.

  A welcome but overbearing flood of light hit Kurt no more than ten minutes later when the truck stopped and Harry raised the door. This was sooner than Kurt had expected, but only because he hadn’t considered the obvious probability that Joyce and Harry would live fairly close to their own gas station.

  “Okay,” Harry said. Kurt saw only a brick wall behind him, presumably the side of his house. “Is there anything else you think we might need?”

  “Coffee,” Minter answered immediately.

  “You mean for now? Or for when we get there?”

  “Both
,” Minter said. “Two cups for now and all you have for later. And do you have a flask or something for on the way?”

  “I’ll see what I can do. Anything else? I was thinking more along the lines of essential items.”

  Kurt had an idea. He searched through the pile of bags for his laptop’s carry case. He took out the charger and handed it to Harry along with the laptop itself. “Could you plug this in to charge?” he asked. “And if we could wait an extra twenty minutes, that would give me a few more hours of battery life.”

  “I was just thinking about that,” Harry said. “About when we should leave. I mean, we don’t wanna get there at 1am, do we?”

  Kurt shrugged. “We just want to get there. But definitely before 6am.”

  “Okay. Then I make it we should leave in four or five hours. Your computer can charge, we’ll have a good meal before the drive, and we won’t be sitting in the truck all night for no good reason.”

  Kurt and Minter saw no good reason to oppose Harry’s plan. The unit where Ernesto collected his mail wouldn’t even be open in the middle of the night, so it really didn’t make sense to get there too early.

  Minter moved to the edge of the truck.

  Harry held out his hand. “It’s probably better if you stay in there.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t readily invite strangers into my home,” Harry said, deadpan.

  “You’re joking, right?”

  “Joyce will bring you something to eat,” Harry replied, managing to answer the question despite ignoring it.

  “And what about the bathroom?” Minter asked. “Are we supposed to just go outside?”

  “Not on my property you won’t.”

  “So what are we supposed to—”

  “You’re big boys,” Harry interrupted. “You can hold it.” He took Kurt’s computer and walked away.

  Kurt and Minter were speechless for a few seconds, until Minter filled the air with an out-of-character barrage of expletives aimed in Harry’s general direction. Kurt quietened him down and they both sat staring at the wall.

  Joyce arrived quickly with two cups of coffee. She placed them just inside the truck, wordlessly, then left. She returned soon after with a handful of pillows.

 

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