Jun drew a shaky breath and tried to collect his thoughts. The realization of what lay in store—guiding these inexperienced people through the streets of the ID without detection—wasn’t going to be easy. It was obvious that Táan was overwhelmed and Dot, however capable, was clearly exhausted. Uncle Kim, while familiar with large cities, was a wanted fugitive. Jun blew out his measured breaths and straightened his back. I can do this, for my parents and Nai-nai.
The shuttle jerked to a stop and the front doors slid open. The companions looked up as two policemen stepped onboard. Neither cop paid any heed to the other passengers, however Jun noticed that one of the officers kept his eyes fixed on the mirrored panel in the front of the compartment. The officer’s gaze shifted upward, meeting Jun’s in the reflection. Jun knew at once that the police were on that shuttle for one purpose—HighTower’s orders. He cleared his throat and gestured toward the side door; Kim nodded. Táan touched the base of Dot’s neck, silently conveying the message. She inched away from the window. They were ready. Staring straight ahead, Jun clenched his jaw and waited until the last second before pulling the “stop requested” cord. As the shuttle rumbled toward the corner of Weller street, the doors opened. “Now!” he said and bolted sideways, blocking the aisle. The others leapt onto the pavement. As the bus pulled forward, Jun sprang outside. “Left at the corner, toward the red awning—Go!”
The police officers ran toward the exit as the bus accelerated. The automatic doors were beginning to close as the first officer stuck his baton between the panels. They leveraged their way through the door and jumped to the curb. The younger officer raced after Jun, his partner followed as he radioed their location. The ID was still active at 2 AM, as drunken revelers carried the Mars-landing celebrations into the streets. Taking the lead, Jun sped through the crowds, turned sharply to the left and ran through the open-sidewalk seating of a restaurant bar. Patrons shouted as he crashed into one of the waiters, toppling a tray of entrees. Táan, Kim and Dot rushed behind him. As Jun passed the manager he shouted, “Duì bù qǐ… Yímín jú!” Upon hearing the word “immigration,” the manager screamed loudly, “Ai! HighTower—Yímín jú!” The dining room erupted in chaos as dozens of customers and employees ran toward exits. The officers were met with a panicked crowd, pushing them back into the street. Jun slammed through the kitchen door, repeating his warning of immigration to the staff as he dashed around giant woks crackling with hot oil. The companions followed the employees into a narrow alley. Jun turned right, yelling for the others to keep up. Ducking into a recessed doorway, the group paused to catch their breath. Kim placed his hand on the greasy brick wall and doubled over as Dot wiped her forearm across her face, panting. Táan’s back was to the group, his fists clenched, his breathing heavy. As Jun gulped for air, he looked upward; a fire escape clung to the brick wall in several jagged flights. He grabbed the ladder and shook it; the metal creaked and clanged but held. Harsh voices reverberated down the alley. Táan called over his shoulder, “They’re coming.”
Jun nodded and took a deep breath. “Dot—take my uncle up those ladders. Stay to the rooftops. Go three buildings straight ahead, then turn to the right. You’ll have to jump—there’s a door on the roof. Go to the fifth floor… Apartment 533. Can you do this?” Dot nodded and grabbed Kim’s arm. “Go now!” Jun hissed and threw his key card to Kim. Climbing up the first rung of stairs, Dot pulled the ladder down for the next level. The they heard angry shouts from the kitchen staff and footsteps growing louder. Jun looked at Táan. “Can you run?”
“I can.” The young men sprinted down the alley, knocking over cans of rubbish and shouting as they went. Dot watched from the upper landing as the policemen turned to follow the racket down the dark corridors. Monk flew toward the pavement, silently trailing their pursuers. Kim tugged on Dot’s sleeve. “Let’s get out of here.”
The alleyways narrowed as Táan and Jun raced further into the shadows. As Jun turned the corner into a side passage, he stopped abruptly. A 10-foot chain link fence blocked their path. He spun around, searching for another way out of their impasse. Táan ran past him, slapping him on the shoulder as he leapt onto a dumpster. Lunging against the wall, Táan propelled himself over the fence, landing on top of a forklift. He waved at Jun, “C’mon, you can do this!”
Jun shot a look over his shoulder. Fuck! He pulled himself onto the dumpster lid and jumped. His right leg caught on the top of the chain link fence. He gritted his teeth and pried it off the wire, sliding down the other side. Táan offered his hand, hauling Jun onto the lift. “Let’s get the hell out of here!” he muttered.
“Right behind you,” Jun panted.
The forklift was parked next to a partially demolished building, a remnant of the big quake. Vast, empty floors of crumbling concrete met their eyes. Táan jumped, grabbing onto the second story ledge and pulled himself up.
“Stop! Stay where you are—we will shoot!”
Jun turned to see the cops standing on the dumpster. Their weapons were aimed directly at him. Throwing his leg onto the ledge, he rolled onto the floor. Táan helped him to his feet and they ran. A bullet ricocheted off one of the columns, Jun felt the cement dust hit the side of his face. He tucked his chin and increased his speed. Several paces in front, Táan sprang over a pallet of cinder blocks as he made for a stairwell in the far corner. Jun scrambled over the pallet, glancing over his shoulder as he ran. The first officer was closing in distance. Suddenly Jun slammed into Táan’s back. “Shit—sorry!” he panted, pulling him back from the 20-foot hole in front of them.
“This way’s no good.” Táan muttered.
Jun scanned the surroundings and nudged Táan’s arm. “Over there!” The pair ran toward an elevator shaft. Another shot rang out and Táan ducked as a bright flash whizzed by his head. The young men reached the elevator shaft—stared into a deepening black hole. “How far down do you think it drops?” Jun asked.
“I’d guess it’s a 35-foot drop—that is, if it stops there.”
Jun looked back and saw the officers taking aim. “This is it.” As he spoke, Monk dove at the police, flapping his wings and squawking. The officers waved their hands, dodging the raven’s attack. Before the police could point their weapons his way, Monk flew into the girders. His diversion gave Táan and Jun enough time to make the jump.
“Aaaaaah!” Táan leapt into the shaft, catching hold of a loose cable on the opposite wall. He slid for several yards before finding a toehold in the concrete. Jun jumped seconds after, breaking his fall on a steel beam.
“You alright?” Táan called down.
“Yeah, I’m OK—I think. Hey, I can see the ground from here. You’ve got about 20 feet. Can you make it?” Jun lay on his back and shouted into the gloom. A blurry shape flashed by his face as Táan fell. Jun rolled to his side and dropped to the floor. They stumbled out of the dusty shaft and ran toward an opening in an exterior wall. As they left the building, they heard a siren. “That’s no police drone—that’s a HighTower raptor, shit!” Jun panted.
Táan glanced at his companion. “What’s that?”
“I mean it’s a weaponized micro-drone with camera units. If that thing spots us, we’ll never be able to shake it.”
Táan frowned and looked around the corner. Red and white strobes pulsed from a building across the busy avenue. “Whad’ya suppose that place is?” he asked, pointing to the lights.
Jun leaned forward to read the sign. “’Pufferfish.’ It’s a club for uh, dancing.”
The raptor’s shrill siren drew closer and Táan searched the sky. “Fine, come on—let’s get lost inside there,” he said, sprinting through the traffic.
“Hang on—Táan—wait! Shit, what the hell.” Jun shook his head and ran after him.
Throbbing bass resounded from inside the building as they entered. Jun caught up with Táan and grabbed his elbow, “Stay close,” he yelled. They pushed their way through gyrating bodies on the dance floor. Violet, red
and yellow lights flashed in synch with the music. A pair of hands grabbed Táan’s hips and he spun around—his fist pulled back, ready to strike a blow. He faced a man in a platinum wig; glittery antennae wobbled from his headpiece. The man pinched Táan’s chin and said, “Are you a Martian? Because I’d love to probe your dunes, honey.”
Jun pulled Táan away and lead him through the packed room. Looking back across the dance floor, Táan saw the door open and the two police officers enter the club. “The cops are on our trail,” he shouted over the noise. Jun nodded and pressed forward. As they passed by a barstool, Jun saw a plastic space helmet, grabbed it and stuck it on Táan’s head. He pulled off his own shirt and let it fall to the floor. “Don’t say anything. Follow my lead—OK?”
“Wha…?”
“Just—trust me.” Jun took a plastic Vulcan mask off a drunken patron’s head. As the two officers made their way through the mob, Jun pulled Táan close to him and yelled, “Put your arms around my shoulders!”
Táan backed away and grimaced, “Are you fucking nuts?”
“Do it now!” Jun grabbed Táan’s arms and buried his head in his chest. The officers brushed past them without pausing. Looking out of the eye-slot in his mask, Jun watched the cops skirt the dance floor and leave the way they came in. He let out a heavy sigh. “We’re all good,” he exclaimed, pulling off the mask.
Táan shoved him away with both hands “What was that all about?”
“No time to explain,” Jun picked his shirt off the floor. “We’re in the clear for now. Let’s find an exit and get out of here.” Táan threw the helmet on the floor and followed Jun through the hall. Couples lined the tight passageway, engaged in various intimate activities. Táan tried not to stare as they elbowed their way through the club. They burst through the metal door and were met with a shocking blast of cold night air. “Alright, we’re only two blocks from the flat—keep your head down and follow me.” Jun hunched his shoulders and crossed the street. Táan caught up with him and they made their way back to the apartment in silence.
A muffled noise on the landing startled Dot. She snuck toward the entryway of Jun’s flat and pressed her ear to the door. Peering through the peephole, she saw a ragged looking Táan covered in sweat and dust. Dot unbolted the door and let the them into the flat. Kim said, “You both look terrible, are you alright?”
“Yes Uncle, a little worse for the wear, but we made it. But I can’t say that Táan won’t carry around a few emotional scars for a while.”
Dot ran her hand through Táan’s hair, wiping cobwebs out of his bangs. “I’m fine,” Táan mumbled, brushing her away. He walked past her and fell into an overstuffed chair. Kicking off his shoes, Táan lay his head back and sighed. “I don’t think I’m cut out for the city life, Kij’.”
38 Recovery
Queen Charlotte Strait. August 24 2033
52°20'32.5"N 129°33'34.3"W
“I don’t believe this is what this aircraft was designed for, Kai,” Adili muttered as he reached for the grab-rail above his shoulder.
“Are you kidding me? This is exactly the kind of thing these birds were made to do—just ask HighTower’s guy in the back there. Hey, Ashfield—you awake?”
Failing to hear a response, Adili turned to check on the prisoner. His cold stare was met by a disinterested nod from Trip, who then returned his gaze out the side window. Kai sent the helo into another sideways dive. “Man, I miss flying these things. I almost wish we weren’t so close to our destination. I don’t want to give this baby up.” Adili frowned and shook his head. He didn’t share Kai’s enthusiasm for the whirling helicopter and would be glad to put his feet back on solid ground again—even if was to be enemy soil.
It had been 24 hours since Kai piloted HighTower’s helo away from Haida Gwaii, leaving Mike’s corpse on the ground. Since then, Adili spent much of his time staring out of the copilot’s window in a brooding silence. The combat and its aftermath had taken a heavy toll on the Kenyan and he was haunted by unbidden memories. Kai looked over at his sullen friend. He could only guess at what was troubling him, as they’d never spoken of Adili’s life back in Kenya. A fuel alarm beeped on the instrument panel. Kai tapped the readout. “Shit.”
“What—what’s wrong?” Adili asked.
“Petrol. That kerosene we used from Eli’s stock isn’t as efficient. Damn.”
Adili watched nervously as his partner scanned the GPS screen. “Now what do we do? Will we crash into the—the…?”
“I reckon we can make it to Campbell Island… I’ll put her down in Bella Bella.” With that, Kai turned the controls and the helo tilted shoreward, heading toward the coastal islands.
They touched down on the outskirts of Main Street and Trip recognized the run-down store instantly. Kai jumped out of the cockpit and tossed the headset on the seat. “What shall we do about him?” he mused, gesturing to their prisoner.
Adili shrugged, “I’ll stay here with him.”
“Nah mate, I’ll need a hand with the jerry-cans.”
Adili walked back to the passenger compartment and unlatched Trip’s harness. Without a word, he hauled him to the ground. Trip winced as his wounded leg folded beneath his weight. “Can you walk?”
“Gee, I don’t know, what do you think, Kunta Kinte?”
Adili pulled Trip to his feet and, wrapping his arm around his waist, leveraged Trip’s weight onto his hip. Following slowly behind Kai, the two of them made their ungainly way to the store. Opening the screen door, Kai nodded at Adili. “Wait out here, I’ll ask where we can find some petrol.”
Adili deposited Trip into a folding chair and stood beside him, arms folded, eyes fixed straight ahead. Trip straightened his leg and adjusted his position. He looked up at the big man next to him, studying Adili’s expression, then stared across the road. Eventually, Trip cleared his throat and chuckled, “So, are you always the farmer’s dog?”
Adili looked down. “What do you mean?”
Trip stretched and looked down the empty street. “Nothing really—just observing, that’s all… I see you always at the beck and call of these people. You fight their battles for them, carry their cargo…” gesturing toward himself, “You’re their boy. I’m rather surprised that you’re fine with that.” Picking a stem of dried grass off his trousers, Trip waited for his words to take effect.
Adili’s expression and focus remained unchanged. “I do what I want for my friends—my people. Tell me, Mr. Ashfield, why did you fly this helicopter all the way up to these islands? Under who’s orders did you attack villagers? Who is really the boy, here?”
Kai pushed the creaky screen door open. “They’ll send a boat over to Shearwater for fuel. I told ‘em we can’t go there ourselves—too dodgy.” He tossed a package of jerky at Trip and handed Adili a bag of groceries. “Let’s get back to the bird, we may be here for a while.”
As they spoke, a young woman climbed the stairs. She glanced at Trip as she pulled the door open. “Hey, I remember you—you’re the one who gave me all that money for the salmon. You almost got me fired, mister.” Trip gave her a cursory wave and she asked, “So, did you ever find your friend—the one hanging out with Ooligan?”
“Nope, I never found him,” Trip muttered.
“Huh, too bad.” She walked into the store, letting the screen door slam behind her.
“Let’s go,” Kai said. He helped Trip to his feet and motioned for Adili to lead the way, saying, “I got him this time.” As they stumbled back towards the helicopter, Kai said, “You know mate, we’re not you’re enemy.” He paused to get a better grip around Trip’s waist. “These people here, and in Old Massett—they’re all just trying to live their lives. What have they done to HighTower—other than exist? Why is it we’re all so damned expendable? We’re all in this together, ay. It doesn’t make any sense.”
Trip gritted his teeth as he hobbled across the meadow. With some effort, he managed a terse smile and said, “
I’m just working for a paycheck, my naïve Kiwi friend.”
“Trust me, bro, there’s better ways to earn a buck.”
An elderly Heiltsuk couple met them at the helicopter and introduced themselves to Kai as friends—code speakers. They brought news from family members in Tsawwassen who saw a baidarka stopped by the Coast Guard a few day’s back—a baidarka resembling the one that had recently been seen in Bella Bella. Adili waited beside Trip as Kai spoke with the couple. When Kai returned, he announced that they would stay overnight on Campbell Island to learn more regarding the fate of their friends.
They unrolled their blankets underneath the helicopter and ate a frugal dinner of jerky and flat bread. The sun sank behind the hills as Kai rose to leave. “I’m going back into town; the code speakers might have heard more news by now. Keep an eye on ‘im.” Adili nodded and lashed Trip’s wrists to the skids. Satisfied that his prisoner was restrained, Adili moved his bedroll farther away and, settling back, closed one eye. Trip rolled onto his side and stared at August’s ice moon.
An hour later, Kai returned to camp with news: The paddlers had not been detained. He had asked the code speakers to send word throughout the lower islands—should anyone encounter their companions, assistance would be offered and news sent back to The Greenwood at once. Adili nodded in silence, pleased with the update. Kai crawled underneath his blankets, but sleep was soon interrupted by the buzzing of Trip’s mobile. The device vibrated until it fell off the helo’s dash, landing on the footboard above Kai’s head. He grabbed the mobile and read an urgent text from Director Terrance requiring Trip’s response. Despite several attempts at unlocking the device, Kai was unable to send a reply. After his last attempt, the screen went black. The threesome spent a troubled night underneath the helicopter; each pondering what the message foretold.
Sea of a Thousand Words Page 36