by Jeff Altabef
“No, nothing. Juliet just got a funny feeling that she might be in trouble.”
He sighs. “I’m out right now with Tara and Frankie looking for her. She left the building a few hours ago and no one’s seen her since. I’m worried she might’ve been taken.”
I clench my hands into clubs. “Who took her? Do you think that guy from the park did it?”
“No, Juliet. We checked him out. Frankie and I made sure he knows how serious we are, but he doesn’t know anything. Gangs make a habit of snatching runaways. They hold them against their will for a spell until they brainwash them into joining the gang.”
“What can we do?” asks Troy.
“It’s late. Go to bed. She might just turn up. You never know with new runaways. If we haven’t found her by tomorrow, maybe you guys can ask around and canvas some streets for us. I’ve got to go.”
Click.
The fuzzy image from Lilly’s mind could have been a knife. Someone is threatening her. She’s so young and scared.
A pain jabs me in the gut as if someone stabbed me with a stiletto and is twisting the blade.
“Well, it’s possible she’ll turn up tomorrow like he says.” Blake shrugs. “Where—”
I ignore him. I have to leave, so I march toward the door and shout over my shoulder, “I’m going to find her! I’ve got to help her. You guys can come along if you want.”
When I shove the door open with my mind, it shatters in a burst of splinters before me.
The wind swirls, and I take a deep breath. This City air is different from the air back home. A trace of moisture clings to it as if it hasn’t fully decided whether it should rain. I miss the dry fresh scent from back home, but there’s no time for these thoughts, so I push aside the creeping sense of melancholy that threatens to fill me as everyone else clatters up the ladder.
Connor’s the last one up, and rolls the manhole cover back into place. “So, let’s get cracking. We’ve got a girl to save and some bad guys to pummel.”
“I’m serious. You guys don’t have to help. It could be dangerous.”
Akari plants her hands on her hips. “More dangerous than a group of superhuman aliens who want to take over the world, enslave everyone, and conquer the rest of the universe? I’m in.”
Blake nods. “Okay, let’s find this girl. Where do we look?”
“Leave that to me. If I concentrate on her and start walking, we’ll eventually find her.”
“Like psychic GPS?” Blake stares at me wide-eyed.
“Kinda?” I shrug
Connor bows low and sweeps his arm before me in an exaggerated flourish. “Lead the way.”
I close my eyes and picture Lilly’s face, her brilliant blue eyes, her round cheeks, and her blonde hair. When I open them, I’m facing west. It feels like the right direction so I start in a brisk walk.
Troy strides along beside me, and the others follow a step behind.
After a block, Akari asks in a thick accent, “Why do you think the Alphians made a selection of us? I mean with so many people to pick from, why make us the special ones?”
“I’m not sure about you guys, but it’s obvious why I was chosen.” Connor grins.
“Why?” Akari takes the bait.
“My brilliant good lucks.” He grins a crooked half-smile that means he’s only kidding.
“Right,” mutters Troy.
“I have my charms if the beer is flowing and the lights are low.”
“Very low,” I say, and we all laugh.
“Seriously.” Akari’s boots clatter against the street. “How’d they even know we would be born?”
“Assuming they’re this advanced race.” Blake huffs from behind me. “They probably used genetic testing and sophisticated statistical analyses. That way they’d know what types of genes we would have and they could calculate the odds that an eligible baby would be available when the time was right.”
“That or there’s something else going on.” Troy turns and stops, his voice serious. “Maybe the stories behind our Orders aren’t all wrong. Maybe spirits are in play that can see into the future.”
Connor shakes his head. “Bloody spirits sound far-fetched.”
“It’s possible.”Akari nods. “My grandmother believes our ancestors visit us after they die, sometimes in dreams and other times in visions.”
I shove Troy playfully in his chest and he spins forward. “Spirits or no, we need to hurry.”
We walk in silence for a few minutes. Maybe the others contemplate spirits or God or whatever they believe in. I have my own doubts about spirits, but I can’t dismiss what Troy said. He could be right. Sicheii certainly was convinced they’re real.
At almost one in the morning, cars still drive by, and we pass small knots of people. Some are loud and act as if they’ve enjoyed a few too many drinks. Others scoot past quietly, eyes downcast, looking like they just want to go home after a long night of work.
Blake breaks the silence. “That Stuart fella isn’t what I pictured. He looks nothing like the Alphians from those dreams the fusions gave me. All those Alphians were tall, thin and hairless.”
“Did you see that look on his face when he explained about the Uglies and the rest of the Alphians,” Troy says. “I know that look. It’s the same one some Native Americans have on the Rez when they describe white men. On the outside it’s pleasant, but scratch just under the surface and there’s nothing but pure hatred.”
Now that Troy mentions it, I know he’s right. Uglies and Alphians living together, the Uglies subservient, almost slaves to the tall and beautiful looking Alphians.... It’s hard to go through life with that giant chip on your shoulders. A weight like that can bend the strongest back. I know. I wilt sometimes from the discrimination I’ve felt back home, and Troy’s so sensitive to the slights, he’s quick to react to the smallest snubs, his nerves rubbed raw after a lifetime of being told he’s inferior, not just in words, but in actions and looks and whispers, too, which are way worse.
“He can sod off. I don’t care about his situation. All we need is the name of the Prime Elector.” Connor kicks a bottle that breaks against a metal trashcan. “As much as I dislike the wanker, we need him until he gives us that name.”
“Maybe he doesn’t know. Maybe that’s why he didn’t tell us at dinner,” says Akari.
Could Stuart have lied about that?
He doesn’t strike me as the most honest type of person; more of an ends-justify-the-means guy, so he’d lie to get us to do the things he wants. Yet at dinner, I got the impression that he spoke truthfully about knowing the identity of the Prime Elector.
Still, that’s what I wanted to believe, and I know how easy it is to convince people of the things they want to believe.
I don’t have much time to ponder it because a tingle climbs up my spine. We’re close, so I stop in front of a rundown four-story brick warehouse. “She’s inside.”
“Where are we?” Akari turns her head, and her eyes dance in a nervous circle as she shudders.
I wonder if she’s having another one of those panic attacks she had in Tokyo. She gulps air and her body trembles, but no one else notices, so I slide away from her to give her space.
“We’re in the Meatpacking District.” Troy points to the building’s facade. “You can see cattle and pigs carved into the top of the building. The City used to have a number of slaughterhouses around here next to those abandoned train tracks.” He waves at tracks on the other side of the building.
“How do you know so much about it?” I ask him.
He beams one of his heart-melting smiles. “The book Landon gave me has a map and some info about the different parts of the City. We passed the Village to get here. The Inn is only a few blocks that way.” He points east.
“What now?” asks Blake. “Should we call the police?”
I shake my head. “What would we tell them? I have a premonition that bad people are holding an innocent girl in the building? Besides, it might
take too long. Who knows what they’re doing and when they’ll move her.”
“So we go in and teach these blokes a thing or two about manners.” Connor rolls his head and stretches his shoulders, his eyes gleaming with mischief.
What we’re about to do is serious. I remember what my father told me before I set out to rescue my mother from the Seeker. He said I had to be all-in. They need to understand the same message before we blunder ahead.
“Listen, these guys are going to be dangerous. They’re probably armed. None of you have to do this. You don’t even know this girl, but if you’re in, you’ve got to be willing to do whatever it takes. That might mean getting your hands dirty. We’ve got to assume anyone we come across will be happy to hurt us.”
They all nod, although Blake looks two shades paler than usual.
I glance at the abandoned building and feel negative energy flow from it. It seeps through the bricks like a foul smelling fog rolling over a lake.
We circle the building, careful to stay in the shadows. The main door is made of heavy steel. It’s coated with dust and appears not to have budged in decades. We’re not getting in that way.
The back of the building faces the railroad tracks and the river. Three steel bay doors are shut tight. They roll upward, but I imagine they’ll make a loud high-pitched squeal if we open them.
There must be some other way inside.
Troy points to the corner of the building, his voice a whisper. “There’s a small door over there.” It’s barely visible in the moonlight. “That must be how they get in. Let’s check it out.”
We race along the building.
Troy studies the ground. “See those scuff marks? They look fresh. A few people have recently used this door.”
I close my eyes, concentrate on the inside of the building, and comb over the space with my mind. Every animal has a life force or spirit, as Troy would say. “No one appears to be on the first floor. Lilly is on the second. I’m sure a cluster of other people hang near her.”
“Do you know how many?” Blake’s face wrinkles with doubt.
I shrug. “We’re too far away for me to be certain, and I can’t tell if they’re all bad.”
“Well, how do you know Lilly’s one of them?” Blake nervously shifts on his feet.
“Once I’ve met someone, my mind registers their unique spirit. I don’t know how it works exactly, but I can see a face when I sense the person’s energy. If I haven’t met the person, all I see is a fuzzy image like a photograph that’s way out of focus. The others in the building are all strangers, but Lilly’s definitely in there.”
Connor grins. “Good. I’m happy these creeps are with her. What fun would we have if she were alone? Who’d we get to hurt?”
Blake sighs. “Right, this is way more fun.”
“You can still back out if you’ve changed your mind,” I tell him. If he wants to come he’ll have to be committed.
“No, I’m in. I’ll be behind you every step of the way,” he says, and I shoot him a look. “Well, someone has to be last.”
The moonlight casts a silver hue against his face, but determination flares in his eyes. Maybe he doesn’t want to be left out, or maybe he really wants to help Lilly. It doesn’t matter; either way he’s in.
I try the doorknob and it’s locked. “Troy, do you think you can pick it?”
Troy checks out the lock. He’s picked a few for us over the years—nothing too serious: the school, my grandfather’s gallery, and once we snuck into the general store for a few late night ices. We both felt guilty, so we left ten dollars in the store before we left.
He reaches into his pocket and removes a key chain he always carries with him. One of the attachments is an Allen wrench and another is a small flat screwdriver.
Troy’s always been mechanical; he just sees how things work. The day after his sixth birthday he showed up at my house with a wide grin and a bike he cobbled together from scraps he found at the dump. The mismatched wheels wobbled and the handlebars stretched so high he had to strain to reach them, but the bike held together.
Sicheii and I had helped him paint flames on the sides and everyone thought it was the coolest thing. He raced around the neighborhood for a year until he built a makeshift ramp and tried to jump over a fence in the park. He didn’t come close to clearing it. He couldn’t fix the bike, but he laughed it off just the same. That’s the other thing about Troy; he’s always pushing limits, and sometimes they push back.
These memories flash through my mind as he fiddles with the lock for a few minutes. “This one has a deadbolt from inside. I can’t pick it.”
‘We could break it down,” suggests Akari. “It shouldn’t be a problem. One good kick and it’ll give way.”
She backs up and measures the distance to the door, so I step in the way. “I know you can knock it down, but I’d really like to surprise them. You might be able to set it on fire instead, but it’s metal. Of course, Connor could just liquefy the doorknob. Then we’d be able to stroll right through without any noise.”
Connor smirks. “I’ve never done anything like that before.”
“I saw you at the pub the other day. You liquefied that glass in your hand.”
“Never sober, anyway.” He shrugs. “When I’ve tossed back a few, it just happens.”
“It’s a little late to find an open liquor store, so you’ll have to use your imagination and try to focus on the doorknob.” I squeeze his arm and lock onto his eyes. “You can do this.”
“You sure you don’t have a nip of something on you?” He shoots me a sly grin.
I tap my foot and place my hands on my hips. He has to believe in himself and stop using alcohol as a crutch. I’m sure he can do this if he sets his mind to it. “Stop fooling around. You don’t need a drink.”
“Okay, you don’t have to glare at me. I didn’t think you’d have anything, but it was worth a try.”
He grabs the doorknob and closes his eyes. Five seconds pass, then ten, and the air crackles. Twenty seconds and he’s sweating and the knuckles on his hand turn white. Thirty seconds and his whole body shakes. I’m about to tell him to give up, but when he gets to fifty seconds, electricity fills the air and the doorknob melts away, gushing to the floor.
Blake stands too close and the liquid splashes on his shoes. “Great. These are Ferragamos.”
I slap Connor on the back. “Excellent work. And you didn’t have to drink to do it.”
Connor grins and shakes his hand as if it smarts from a shock. “No, but a pint would’ve made it easier.”
“That’s odd,” says Troy as he bends low and touches the liquid that had just been the doorknob.
“You’re going to have to be more specific,” says Connor. “There’s plenty of odd going around.”
Troy straightens. “The liquid is cool to the touch. It should be hot.”
“Oh, I thought you were talking about Blake. He’s odd.” Connor smiles. “It’s always cool whenever I change something to liquid.”
I push the door and it swings open and creaks a little on rusty hinges. Moonlight streams through dirt-encrusted windows and bathes the floor in just enough light to make out shapes in the darkness.
Inside the building is a vast open space. A large elevator big enough to hold two cars sits in the middle with a metal cage for doors. Dirt, dust, and debris litter the rough concrete ground. Smashed glass glitters along the edges of the room as if people commonly toss bottles against the walls.
We step inside and Blake shuts the door behind us.
“It’s not what I thought a slaughterhouse would look like,” says Akari.
Blake crunches glass under his foot as he steps past me. “They probably stopped slaughtering animals here fifty years ago. It looks like they converted it to warehouse space, but once the railroad stopped running, it must have lost its value.”
He’s stopped limping; I wonder if he even notices.
I whisper, “As far as I can tell, e
veryone is on the far side of the building on the second floor. It looks like there are two staircases, one on this end and the other at the far end where they are.”
“We should split up.” Connor grabs Blake by the neck. “I’ll take captain courageous here and go up the staircase at the far end. This way he can make sure I don’t lose my nerve. You guys go up here—”
“When we get to the second floor we’ll go first.” I nod toward the stairs. “This way we can distract them. Once they’re focused on us, you guys can slip in from behind and make sure Lilly is safe.”
Connor grins. “As fine a plan as we’re going to get. Come on, let’s go.” He pulls Blake with him.
Troy, Akari, and I creep our way up the front staircase. When we arrive on the second floor, I slide open the door a few inches and sneak a glimpse. This floor has the same layout as the first, open with a wide elevator shaft in the middle. A battery-operated lamp brightens the far end of the building. A punk song beats a loud and annoying rhythm that ripples toward us. I can’t see anyone clearly from here, which means they can’t see us.
I turn to face Akari and Troy. “The elevator shaft blocks the middle of the floor. Let’s sneak our way behind it. From there we should be able to see what’s up.”
They nod, so I open the door just wide enough to slip through and stalk my way toward the elevator shaft, dancing around bottles and anything that might crunch under my feet. My heart pounds and I breathe through my mouth.
Troy and Akari follow close behind.
At the elevator doors, I flatten my back against the cage.
The music is loud, but I can hear a few angry male voices mixed in. “Where’d you get that other ace for three of a kind!”
“What’re you saying?”
Good. They’re playing cards, which means they won’t notice us. I crouch to the floor and peek my head from behind the elevators. Six guys sit in a rough circle on the floor, a pile of chips in the center. Smoke swirls above them as lit cigarettes dangle from two of the card players’ mouths. More than a dozen beer bottles are scattered around them, but my attention is drawn behind the card players.