Jacked (11 page)

“The parking garage is across the street,” Jahn said. “Do you know what Lionel’s truck looks like?”

“It’s not in there,” Tar said. “I heard him say before that trolls strip cars down in there and completely frag them. He always parks on the side street.”

Tar led the way to the corner of the building. Lionel’s truck was parked near the alley opening where they stood, much farther down the block than normal. He understood now why the man had known there were Black Shirts in the side stairwell. He had already been down on the street, moving his truck somewhat away from the building.

Tar looked up and down the street before he crept out, hunched over at the waist so he was blocked from view by the truck and two other cars. Once he reached the bed of the truck he stepped up on the back bumper, swung a leg over the tailgate, and lay flat on the bed in the blink of an eye. Toby followed next and then Jahn. The last two crawled under a piece of canvas. Tar was small enough to squeeze under the metal box stretching from side to side at the front of the bed.

Time slowed. The uncontrollable fear of being caught had almost gone away as the minutes dragged by, replaced by chest-crushing worry. The longer they waited the more Tar sweated.

Who would drive if the Black Shirts would not let Mr. Lionel leave the building? How would they get away if they had to walk? Where would they even go?

The driver’s door opened and Tar almost cried out. It did not slam shut, however, only squeaked up next to the frame where the boy heard it rub against the metal.

Suddenly they were moving backward. Not fast but they continued to pick up speed as the old F150 rolled down the grade. Without the motor running the truck was nearly silent, only the rasp of rubber against the asphalt giving off sound.

A shout rang out in the distance. The engine roared to life and the truck jerked around to one side, spun its wheels, and leaped forward as it turned. For a moment Tar thought he heard the pounding of horses’ hooves on the street behind them, but then they were gone.

After a few minutes the truck slowed to a normal speed. Tar rolled with the starts and stops and tried to protect himself from banging against the metal box above him when they hit potholes. Finally, the truck slowed, turned off the road, and the motor shut off. The driver’s door opened and slammed shut.

“Don’t get out until I’m gone,” he heard Lionel say.

“Where are we?” asked Jahn.

“The parking lot of Kinglesohn’s where I work. I had to show my i.d. inside the building to get out. I told them I had to come back for an extra shift. My boss will cover for me but I need to be inside working in case the Black Shirts check.” He paused. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.”

“You’ve done more than we could have hoped for,” said Jahn.

Boots crunched on gravel, but then stopped.

“Tar?”

“Yes, Mr. Lionel.”

“Janie loved her birthday present.”

Tar managed a small smile. “I’m glad.”

Chapter 13

Ludler walked into the apartment and looked around. It was very small, barely three strides across, with two sleeping tubes set into the wall. A table and two chairs were the only furniture while off to one side was an ancient refrigerator, the noise of its compressor echoing in the room when it kicked on.

“You’re sure this is where he lived?”

“Yes, sir,” answered Martinez. “The old woman across the hall and two other neighbors confirmed it.”

Ludler nodded as he walked over to the beds.

“Tell me again how you found him, Lieutenant.”

“I was patrolling the area around the other boy’s apartment,” Martinez said. “I just couldn’t shake the feeling they would be stupid enough to head there, even knowing that we would have the address from the school. So I took a couple of men and we went out farther into the next block. It was pretty dark when I saw two boys cross the street. At least, I thought it was two boys.”

“And you ended up here.”

“Yes, sir. We hung back so we didn’t spook ‘em. They brought us straight here. I watched them walk up to the side door and right into the building, easy as you please. But when I went up to the door it was brick, locked with an app box. That’s when I knew for sure that the boy was a fixer.”

“And that’s when you sent the messenger back to me.” Ludler waited until Martinez had nodded before he continued. “Has the room been searched?”

“No. I wanted to wait until you arrived, sir. After I talked to the nearest neighbors I sent them to the building’s common area. No one has been on or off this floor since we got here. No one has left the building either, except for one guy who had to go to work. We checked on him and he was at the factory on the line.”

“And yet, the boy appears to have eluded us.” Ludler shook his head, blowing out a breath of disgust. “Find me something. Show me who and what he is.”

“Yes, sir.”

Martinez barked orders into the hall and within seconds three men entered the room and began tearing it apart. Feeling confined, Ludler stepped out and waited. The apartment, although small, still took several minutes for his men to search. Ludler was feeling impatient when he heard a yell and Martinez came into the hall.

“Sir, have a look!” he exclaimed. “This was hidden underneath the boy’s tube.”

Martinez held up a slim metal box, about the length of a finger. A tiny screen lit up and a man’s photo shined out. He touched another button on the front and music began playing softly through small bits of plastic attached by a cord to the box.

Ludler stepped back as the pieces swung toward him and then away, increasing and then decreasing the volume of the music.

“What is it?” he asked.

“A music app.” Martinez’s eyes shined and his voice sounded breathy. “And it works.”

Ludler’s eyes lit up at the thought of purifying the two boys. Even if one of them was not a fixer he could do whatever he wanted to people in possession of this kind of equipment.

“Very good. Let’s see what we can get out of the neighbors.”

They turned and walked down the hall.

“Who else lived with the boy?” Ludler asked.

“He shared the apartment with an uncle but one of the neighbors said he didn’t believe they were kin. Said they didn’t look anything alike.”

“What is this uncle’s name?”

Martinez hesitated.

“I didn’t write it down, sir. I think it was Ferguson.”

Ludler hesitated at the mention of that name. They had just entered the common area but he grabbed Martinez by the arm with a grip that brought a wince from the lieutenant.

“Name…first name. What is this Ferguson’s first name?”

“Jahn,” said an elderly resident sitting at a nearby table. “Jahn Ferguson. Everyone called the boy Tar. Can I go back to my room now?”

Ludler felt the blood drain from his face. For a second he thought was going to lose his balance. He ignored the old man’s question.

“Don’t you know who that is, Lieutenant? Jahn Ferguson was the Faithful who burned down the building after The Crash. This man is
THE
traitor! And this boy with him must be one of the fixers. We must find them. We
must!
”

“Wha-what should I do, sir?” asked Martinez.

Ludler felt the room spinning. He looked at the residents, most of them staring at him after his outburst.

“Question them all,” he said. His voice dropped and a smile slowly spread over his face. “Before we leave here we will know where they were going or they will all be taken in for purification.”

He started to walk away, but then stopped.

“And everyone in the other apartment building, as well.”

Chapter 14

They moved from shadow to shadow but fear and the dark made for slow going. At least that was what Tar kept telling himself. The sun was still a long time from rising over the buildings when he could no longer convince himself it was their attempts to avoid the Black Shirt patrols that kept them from covering ground. His uncle stumbled from spot to spot, his steps faltering over the sidewalks. When Tar stopped to study the street in front of them, all he heard was Jahn gulping air behind him. Once he reached out to help, grabbing his uncle by the elbow and a cold sweat clung to the man’s skin.

“He doesn’t look very good,” Toby said while they waited for Jahn to cross the empty street behind them. “What do you want to do?”

“I can’t leave him,” Tar said. “Do you want to go on without us?”

Toby hesitated, looking back at Tar’s uncle shuffling closer.

“No. We’re in this together. But we’re not going to automagically get out of the city.”

“I know.” Tar waited a few seconds for Jahn to join them. “We’re about fragged for the night, Uncle. Can we stop and get some sleep?”

Jahn looked at both boys. A distant streetlight illuminated his pale face and his hands shook when he reached up to adjust his backpack. Deep, dark circles under his eyes made it appear like he wore a mask. Most curious of all he kept moving his left arm and feeling his fingers, as if his hand had gone to sleep.

“We should keep going,” he said. “But if you boys need a rest we can stop for a little bit.”

Toby glanced up and down the street. They were in a block that had once been stores and office buildings before The Crash. Now, most of the structures stood empty, boarded windows and low lights adding to the feeling of desolation.

“Tar, do you think you can get us into one of these shops?”

Tar looked at his uncle who nodded weakly. After a few minutes of searching they came to a deserted clothing store. Tar opened the lock and they stepped quickly inside, the door closing behind them and shutting out what little moonlight had aided them this far. A few blind seconds of fumbling and he had his flashlight out of his backpack.

Empty clothes racks scattered over the showroom floor stood like skeletal reminders of ancient animals. In the changing rooms they found dust-covered benches and one beat-up recliner that leaned to one side. Jahn plopped down in the chair while the boys lined up the benches to lie down, as well.

“I’ve got a little food in my pack,” Jahn said as he unzipped the bag and rummaged around. He pulled out pieces of dried fruit and some of Mrs. Schumacker’s homemade cheese and handed it over to the boys. He also tossed them a bottle of water. “Go ahead and eat. I’m not hungry right now.”

The boys plowed into the food. Tar had not realized how starved he was until the first piece of cheese went into his mouth.

“Mr. Ferguson?” Toby asked after a few minutes. “Where are we going?”

Jahn’s eyes fluttered open.

“I don’t know for sure, son. I want to get as far away from other people as we can but we don’t have enough food or water.”

“Maybe it would just be good enough to go 404 where nobody knows us,” offered Tar.

Toby shook his head.

“I don’t think so. Those Black Shirts don’t never give up pinging for somebody once they start. At least that’s what Dad always said. They’ll find some sock puppet who’ll turn us in for food or a little money and then they’ll swoop in and grab us.”

Tar looked down at the floor.

“He’s probably right,” Jahn said. “You boys will do well to remember that. You know this much, Tar: you never know who you can trust, so don’t trust anyone. Least ways in letting them know what you can do.

“It’s not the regular people you’ve got to worry about. Sure, they’ll turn you in for a little bit of nothing, but if you can show that you’re worth more to them than coin they’ll let you go. It’s the true believers you gotta watch out for. Those are the ones that help the Black Shirts the most. The people who believe that the world was better off without the machines and the tech and the Mind—even if it meant that they got sick or somebody they knew died—those are the ones who will turn you in no matter how bad it gets for them.”

They looked at each other in the flashlight’s fading light. The battery was going dead and Tar knew he should switch it off to save what little was left but he was afraid to have this conversation in the black.

“Is that how it was before The Crash?” he asked. “The Black Shirts running around and making people give up their tech?”

Jahn coughed. It might have only been from the dusty chair but to Tar the noise sounded dry and rattling. He did not like it.

“There were no Black Shirts before The Crash, at least not how you know them. Back then, the government in Washington D.C. and the statehouse in Sacramento were in charge. We had police and the army. And tech was everywhere. It was in our homes and on the streets and in our jobs. Doctors used it in hospitals and musicians and actors used it to make people forget about life for a while. Some jobs said you had to be tied into the Mind to work, like the police and the Army. You could barely do anything without using tech.”

“Is that what happened to them, the police? They all went hard boot at The Crash?” Tar knew he had heard some of this before, even as he asked the question, but he saw Toby lean in close while Jahn talked, drinking up every word about the past.

“Yes,” Jahn answered. “And that’s when Father Eli and the Black Shirts stepped in. After The Crash everybody who was somebody was gone. So he took control and made sure food got pushed out to the people and the gas was rationed and the tricity was turned back on. He gave them the power to see the laws were followed.

“You see, before The Crash, Father Eli was dead set against the Mind and people being hooked up to computers. He thought it was wrong, something against God, against nature. So he…” Jahn paused and closed his eyes tight, squinching his face up as if he was trying to forget something. “Well, never mind what he done. Then The Crash came and you know the rest. It wasn’t until later that the Black Shirts began hunting down fixers and telling people what they could and couldn’t do. That’s when some of the people who were true believers began doing things like what happened to your friend.”

Tar swallowed hard. “I saw a moving show in Mr. Keisler’s apartment from before The Crash. It showed Father Eli talking to a crowd of people. He was real mad about the tech. The man that hard booted Shovel was there, too, standing behind him on the stage. He had this creepy smile on his face and the sun was shining off his bald head, just like today.”