Sunlight 24

by Merritt Graves

  There were three windows, all dark, along the side of the house. The glass cutter was in my bag, and I started opening the zipper to slide it out when Ethan’s voice entered my ear. “No, no. The other cop’s leaving the front yard. Go around.”

  “Front?”

  “Yeah, he’s on the other side now.”

  I ran, crouching around the corner. The cop car was sitting there empty with its lights on, soundlessly washing the neighborhood in a subdued alarm. I took a wide angle, skirting its dash-cam, and then hopped some bushes and a short fence by the veranda over to the front door.

  The lock was a standard pin and tumbler. I placed my tension wrench in the bottom keyhole and applied a slight amount of pressure before sticking in the three-ridge rake and moving it back and forth until the key pin and driver pin lined up with the shear line. It rotated a moment later. “Am I good?” I asked before opening the door all the way.

  “Yeah, they’re not in yet. But stay low when you get to the dining room because they can see in from the back door. Actually shit—now they’re coming. Go, go, go. Before they open it.”

  I scampered almost on all fours down the front hall, through the dining room and down the back hall leading to the room under construction where the BASIC card was. Grabbing it was a relief, but the feeling vanished as quickly as it came as I flew back the other way.

  Ethan’s voice erupted into my ear. “No, no! They’re already through the back door. It’s unlocked, remember.”

  A second later there were blue beams from the flashlights slicing through the dining room and kitchen. “This is the police. Is anyone here?”

  I saw their boots from under the bar and knew they’d see me for sure if I made a run for it. “Ethan, what the fuck should I do?” I whispered, pulling up the house’s blueprint again on my film.

  “Go to the—no wait. Just . . . sit tight for a second.”

  I was about to shoot something back when in the corner of my heads-up display I saw S move through the family room toward the fireplace, and then up on the mantle. He knocked into a picture, but it didn’t move. Then he backed up and flew at it again, this time hitting it just hard enough that it clunked against the picture beside it.

  The two police officers froze.

  “Hear that?” asked one of them after a few seconds.

  “Yeah,” said the other, who then motioned for his partner to go around through the hall.

  “There’s more fucking coming on Syd’s cam. You can’t stay inside. There’re another . . . looks like two units about to pull up.”

  I was itching to take off, but the officers were still in sight, moving slowly towards the front of the house. Their breathing was short. Each careful footstep reverberated in my new cochleas.

  “Dude, they’re one block away.”

  Finally, both police disappeared around corners and I crawled into the kitchen and over to the back door. I waited for another moment as the footsteps got farther down the hallway before opening it and rushing into the backyard. I hopped the fence and made it back to the Midland Park Trail that I’d come in on just as the two other cars arrived.

  “Can you get S out?” I asked.

  “There’s a screen on the chimney he’s hiding up, so I’ll try to get him through the door when the other cops come in.”

  “Well, don’t let them see it.”

  “No shit.”

  I pulled up the CDN map and saw that the blocks ahead of me were turning orange and red as more pollinators returned from Jaden’s drops. I could go up a few more streets on the side of the park and then cut over, but at the current rate of movement there’d be pretty solid coverage there, too, by the time I arrived.

  I slowed down and studied the map. To completely avoid them, I’d need to go back to the other end of the park and then swing up by the entrance of the cul de sac where the police had come in. That way I could slide over to 18th Street, where there were smaller yards and less to pollinate, and then come down to my street the other way.

  It was the last thing I wanted to do, but there wasn’t any choice. “Ethan.”

  “Yeah, I see it. I’ve already sent Syd and T ahead to scout for police, but I doubt they’re going to be sending that many more cars. They’re not sure it’s even a break-in yet.”

  “They heard that noise.”

  “Well . . . I’ll keep S back in case they fan out.”

  I started to accelerate into a jog and then a sprint, retracing my steps along the trail. But instead of going through the trees into the Gruensteins’ backyard like I did before, I kept going all the way to where it spat you out by the soccer fields.

  “You’re clear, you’re clear. They’re still by the house, searching the yard. They can’t see you.”

  I made it past one block. And then another. And another. And then I was in my neighborhood again, running down my street. The panic that had been blaring inside me started dropping a few notes as I walked on the lawn. This was a nightmare, but I hadn’t gotten caught. I was still here. I was still free.

  I turned the door handle, but it was locked. I rattled it slightly and then moved over to the window. The blinds were folded in, though I could still see part of Mr. Jefferson sitting in his charge station on the sofa. I went back and rattled the door handle some more, until finally there was the sound of clunky footsteps.

  “Hello, Dorian,” said Mr. Jefferson, not moving over after he’d opened the door. “You’re sure out late.”

  I brushed past him and walked down the hall. Jaden’s light was off, just like when I’d left. I pounded on his door three times, waited a moment, and then pounded again, harder, in a continuous ten-second stream. Maybe he wasn’t back yet.

  I was about to go rewind through some of the drone footage to see if I could tell which way he’d been headed when I saw my door was a little ajar. Stepping towards it, my anger turned to uneasiness. And then to fear. My workstation’s screensaver wasn’t on and next to the tracking ball was a little baggie with Mr. Bosworth’s PetPerspective lenses.

  Chapter 32

  It seemed like the alarm rang again only a few seconds after I’d set it. I’d spent an hour after I’d gotten home overwriting all the casing files Jaden must’ve installed on my computer. He did it just like I’d done it to him, putting them in a bunch of innocuous places I’d normally never think to check. And since they weren’t malware but perfectly legitimate files, my security sweeps hadn’t picked them up.

  Laughter floated in from the hallway. My parents’. And then a thin outline of Jaden’s voice.

  “Look what Jaden’s cooked us,” said Mom, sounding delighted as I stepped into the kitchen. “An arugula and pistachio pesto quiche. And fried eggs with hazelnuts, green garlic, and chanterelles. Am I saying that right?”

  “Yeah, but it’s not that big a deal, Mom. I was just following a recipe,” said Jaden.

  “They can be tricky, though. You have to know how prep ingredients and what all the different terms mean. And it’s a school day.”

  “Well, I had good help,” he said, pointing his serving spoon at Mr. Jefferson who was over by the stove with an apron on, stirring a pot. “That looks done, Mr. J. Let’s sit down before I’ve gotta jet.”

  “Oh, Dorian, just in time,” said Dad.

  I stayed standing while everyone else took their seats. “I really need to get to school, too. Got some problem sets to review with Michael. You guys go ahead.”

  “You’re not looking too hot, bruh. Mr. Jefferson said he had to open the door at three o’clock for you this morning. Late night study sesh?”

  Mom glanced at Dad and then me.

  “Taking a break from one, actually. Needed some air.”

  “Must have. Mr. J said you were sweating. And you had this big cut.”

  Everyone looked over at the gash running up my forearm.

  “Ooh, we should get that checked out,” said Mom.

  “Yeah,” said Dad. “And what was that noise? We thought we heard so
meone pounding on the door last night.”

  “Maybe it was Mr. Jefferson. I don’t know. It’s an old house. Maybe it was . . . maybe it was . . .”

  I woke up mumbling, twisted in my covers, my eyes phasing between real and surreal, finally landing on my ceiling fan. But even as the room started to settle and sharpen, I still felt like I was dreaming. That something wasn’t right. I jolted up in bed, relaxing when I saw the sun filtering through the window and the Telluride poster hanging on the wall, and then jolted again when I saw Jaden sitting on the low dresser in the corner of my room.

  “Good morning, Dor,” he said tonelessly. “You’re quite the tosser and turner there, drenching those sheets in . . . hopefully sweat. That’s a little worrying, because Mr. Jefferson says that sleep quality’s just as important as amount. You’re 0 for 2 there.”

  I was still disoriented.

  “So, it got me thinking, ‘how could I help my brother out?’ I could get Mom and Dad to take you to a sleep specialist who’d tell you to turn off your film and get a white noise machine and blackout curtains—maybe even hook you up with pills. But the problem is that’d just be treating the symptoms, not the cause.”

  “Get out of my room.”

  “No. Can’t do that. At least not until we have a little chat.”

  “So, you can record it and try to trap me again?”

  “Well that’s a pretty dark thought: your own brother setting a trap for you.”

  I’d always been uneasy around Jaden and in the last couple of months it had gotten worse. But for the first time, with him seven feet away from me in my room, holding one of my old football trophies he must’ve gotten out of the closet, I felt afraid. “Don’t make it out like I started this.”

  “Oh, of course not. It’s never you.”

  I started to protest, but he talked over me. “But I’m not here to play the blame game. And I’m not recording, Scout’s honor.”

  “How do you know that I won’t?” I asked, anger and fear swinging back and forth, battling for control. More than anything, though, I couldn’t believe where we were. I couldn’t believe what had just happened.

  He dangled the uplink cord. “Cause I deleted your cam app.”

  I tried to keep my face even.

  “Don’t worry, you can reinstall it in a few minutes. And no, I didn’t snoop—I’m not going to stoop to your level. I just thought we needed to have a frank conversation.”

  “And I’m just supposed to believe that your film’s off?”

  He made his eyes go big, tilted his head back, and then used his index finger and thumb to remove each film successively, depositing them both on the back of his hand. “Want to touch? See if I’m doubling up?”

  I shook my head, having already zoomed in enough to see that he wasn’t.

  “It’s tragic that we have to go to such lengths to speak. It makes you wonder whether people really mean the stuff they say or whether they’re just covering their asses in case film’s reviewed later.” He put the trophy down and leaned forward a little. He’d always slouched and dropped his shoulders down when he sat, but his posture was perfect now. Chin up. Chest out. Back straight. Looking like some cross between a gangster and a marine. “We live in a strange world . . . where the people you love the most can betray you in a heartbeat.”

  “Fuck you, Jaden. You’ve been Revising all along.”

  “But I didn’t lie about it.”

  “No, you just—”

  He put his hand up. “Listen, I think we’re both pretty pragmatic people and the easiest, most sensible thing would be for us just to work together. A Molotov-Ribbentrop kind of thing. But given that we have a . . . let’s call it a trust deficit, at this point, let’s just settle for staying out of each other’s hair.”

  “You’re unbelievable. You say that after what you tried to do?”

  “Are you kidding me?” Jaden hissed. “I never, never, was going to turn you in first. They’d bring in the dogs. Cart everything off as evidence. Mutually assured destruction.”

  “But you still hid the tools!”

  “I had a contingency in place in case you tried anything, which you did. But it was only after your drug dealer friend there started pulling down the dragnet. Jesus Christ, you two are fucking amateurs. No one had a clue it was anyone our age until you started tracking mud everywhere.”

  “You’re so full of sh—”

  “Dorian! Do you think I want cops showing up at our house? Why on earth would I want that? I would’ve explained it the best I could, sure, but there’s no scenario where that looks good,” Jaden said, leaning back against the wall, his biceps and chest straining against his old youth-league basketball shirt. It made me realize that he’d gotten more muscular in the past few weeks. Nothing ridiculous. Nothing that couldn’t have been explained by Dad’s set of dumb bells in the basement. But still noticeable which, along with his deep baritone voice, was starting to push the limits of a believable puberty trajectory.

  “What about Spencer?”

  “What about him? You think I had him go to the police?” asked Jaden, suddenly up and off the dresser. “He’s been at this house. People have seen us hanging out together. You think I want him implicated? Someone’s done a really shitty job on your Revision. You should ask for your money—”

  “Shut the hell up,” I said.

  “You know, this talking down, interrupting stuff . . . it’s gotta stop.” He made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “It might’ve flown at one point, but you’re not in the catbird’s seat anymore, buddy. I’m letting you off light here because I don’t want a mess, but that doesn’t mean I won’t end this if you ever screw with me again. Got it?”

  I stayed silent, staring at him.

  “And there’s always the matter of safety . . .” Jaden trailed off, shaking his head, as if reluctant to say the next part.

  I tried to keep my voice from wavering. “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t know,” he said, shrugging. “Just that it would just be good if you, Mom, Dad, and your friends all stayed safe . . . generally. That’s all.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  A thin smile came over his face as he turned perfectly still, not blinking, his eyes fastened on me with a polar, predacious seriousness I’d never seen before. His expression was relaxed but his body was rigid, as if coiling up for a big movement. My first instinct was to draw away, but I was paralyzed, transfixed by the sudden foreignness of my own room, my own brother, my own voice. “Why would I kid about something like that?

  “But I am serious about wanting to hear you say it.”

  “Say what?” I asked, almost choking on the words, still not quite able to believe who he’d just threatened.

  “That I’m in charge now.”

  I stared back at him, the fear and disgust swirling faster and faster.

  “Say it.”

  “Fine.” I cocked my head sideways like he always did, trying to sound as tough as I could, “You’re in charge now. But I’ve got one question: If it’s not one of us, who’s going to take the fall for the robberies?”

  Jaden looked down at his watch. “You’re about to find out.”

  Chapter 33

  Since I was only driving to school, I wasn’t concerned about being seen and didn’t have to have the community drone overlay on. It just was what it was. The sky was blue. The sun orange. Trees green. But I felt exposed without it, like there was some critical piece of data that I was missing. Like everything was strange somehow, even though it was the real thing.

  There wasn’t one part I could point to and say, “That’s not right.” It all just had an apocalyptic feel to it. The blue morphos and the glass frogs and the blue jays and cardinals and goldfinch drones were beautiful, but we were drowning in them now, just like we were drowning in the sunlight. I felt like I wasn’t attached to anything but floating, seasick in the air. That the car was driving itself even though it was non-autonomous, and that I wa
sn’t going to be able to stop it if I needed to.

  Walking into school that morning, Ethan found me before I could find him. “Hey man, I’ve been trying to get ahold of you. Is everything okay?” he started. And then in a lower voice. “Did you talk to him?”

  I nodded. “He called a truce.”

  “A truce? Okay, that’s good. What else?”

  “He said that he’s ‘in charge’ now. And that we’re ‘about to find out’ who he’s going to pin the robberies on, since I guess he thinks we’d be too messy at this point,” I said, deciding to leave out the part where he threatened our families. With Ethan’s sunken eyes and pallid skin, last night had taken a heavy toll on him, and I wasn’t sure how much more he could handle.

  “That’s good, too, right?”

  “If you believe it. Who would you pin it on if you were him?”

  “Dunno, maybe Spencer,” said Ethan, just as I was thinking it. “Get him souped up just to take the fall.”

  “Is he souped up?” I asked.

  “I think so. There’re little nanobot twitches now and then. And he doesn’t live that far from your neighborhood, so it’s not too big of a stretch.”

  “Jesus. I’m still having trouble . . . trouble believing that happened. It doesn’t feel like it’s me. Like it’s you. Jaden’s always been . . . but this is . . .” I paused, trying to compose myself and think of the right way to say it. “You know how our film overlays tint everything different colors based on drone activity?”