Psion Gamma (5 page)

“It’s what he should be doing, Brick! Not waiting around for—for whatever . . .”

The words flew out of her mouth before she even had time to think about what she was saying. Heat rose to her head and flushed her face. For the last month, she and Brickert had carefully stayed away from this subject based on some unspoken agreement. She hadn’t discussed Sammy with the other Beta girls, she’d declined an invitation from Commander Byron to talk about him, and she’d told the woman from crisis therapy that she wasn’t interested in sitting down with her, either. As the weeks had passed, she’d assumed Brickert shared her feelings about not discussing the topic of Sammy.

“He was my friend, too. The best friend I’ve ever had, I’ll tell you!” Jeffie couldn’t ignore the look of pain in Brickert’s face. It was as if he were finally saying things he’d wanted to, but hadn’t let himself. “I miss him. Sometimes I think of a funny thing to say and I turn to say it to him, but he’s not there. I got so used to having him around. I—I lost a brother, Jeffie. I lost a brother!”

“I know, Brick.” Jeffie took a step closer to Brickert. She thought about hugging him, but couldn’t see herself doing it.

“And now Al’s tearing himself up about this! Marie’s beside herself because he’s so withdrawn from her. They’ve got plans
to get—you know—plans for the future. Now every time she brings it up, he just runs to the sim room. At some point, people have to let go. Right?”

All the sympathy Jeffie had felt for Brickert vanished with that question. She stepped away as if he was contaminated. “No! Al can’t stop looking! It’s too soon!” She didn’t know why she was yelling at Brickert. None of this had anything to do with him.

“Why not?” Brickert asked quietly with his gaze fixed on the floor. “Because it means Sammy is dead?”

Brickert’s words punched her in the stomach. Even after a month, she still expected to see Sammy in the cafeteria eating his bowl of creamed oatmeal. She looked forward to fighting with him about whose breakfast was healthier, which movies were better, who Brickert really had a crush on. She missed those stupid arguments. She missed everything.

“He could be alive. I don’t see why everyone has a problem believing that!”

“I know,” Brickert pleaded with her. “I know. But I’ve talked to Gregor and Kaden and others who were there—”

“—even Kobe?”

“Except him. But I did try . . . when he was here. He didn’t want to talk to me. Everyone’s said the same thing. They didn’t see a way Sammy could still be alive.”

Jeffie folded her arms and looked away now. “I’ve heard all that . . .”

“I want him to be alive, too, I’ll tell you! But as much as I wish it were, it’s—”

Jeffie fixed him with a murderous stare, daring him to say what she thought was coming next.

“—it’s not likely. You heard the commander’s speech at Martin’s funeral. You know what happened, Jeffie. It kills me, too, but I don’t want to live the rest of my life waiting for my best friend to come walking through the door. I—” He dropped his voice again. “I don’t want to be like Al.” His chin quivered as he spoke and his eyes moistened, but he held strong.

Brickert’s emotion got to Jeffie, but she refused to cry, too. She was so sick of crying. The first week after Sammy had (
don’t say it!
) not come home, she’d cried herself to sleep so much that she didn’t want to cry ever again.

Brickert’s cheeks grew red spots. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.” His eyes flickered over to sim room six. “I just—I don’t know what to say.”

“I know,” she whispered.

“I want to believe it. I do.”

Jeffie nodded, holding her stomach tightly. If she let go, she’d throw up. “I just wish I knew one way or the other. My mind tells me he’s gone and—and Kawai and Natalia and Brillianté are bent on helping me accept that. But when I dream, Brickert, he is always alive.”

December 24, 2085

F
LOYD HERNANDES
owned a comfortable two-level home located in a sprawling, middle-class neighborhood, or
bairro
, as Floyd called it. Sammy wondered why Floyd didn’t just call it a neighborhood, but he quickly learned that the butcher slipped in and out of using Portuguese without thought.

The Hernandes family consisted of Floyd’s wife, Karéna, and their four children: Rianna, Adam, Rebecca, and Rosalina. The girls, whose ages ranged from twelve to eighteen, were enthralled by “Albert” and flirted shamelessly. Rebecca, the girl closest to Sammy in age (and extremely pretty), was particularly keen on him. They all looked like Karéna: tall and slender with long dark hair and big brown eyes.

Adam, on the other hand, was short and round like his dad. Sammy didn’t think Adam liked him very much. He guessed it was because Floyd was so hard on his son, but treated Sammy like an honored guest. The family set up a cot for him in Adam’s room on the far wall from Adam’s bed. Late into the night, Adam peppered Sammy with questions about his parents, his life, and plans for the future. The interrogation aside, it was Adam’s tone Sammy found most annoying. He seemed bothered by Sammy’s “northern” accent and frequently told his sisters off for spending so much time around a complete stranger. Sammy tried not to let any of it worry him. He had more important things to think about.

Christmas at the Hernandes’ began early on Christmas Eve and was unlike any holiday celebration Sammy had ever seen. Festivities were big, noisy, and continued into the night. He had never been to such a party. Hordes of family and friends descended upon the Hernandes house: first cousins, second cousins, third cousins . . . it made no difference. All were like siblings in this family. They ate, sang, played, and danced. Then the cycle repeated itself. Sammy had no choice but to have a good time.

Rebecca, the middle of the three daughters, spent a good portion of the day trying to coerce Sammy into going on a walk around the block with her. At first, he saw no harm in this and nearly said yes, but then he saw another young couple in the family returning from a “walk around the block” and they both appeared fairly disheveled. Not wanting to incur any more suspicion from Adam, he politely declined Rebecca’s offers.

Finally, at midnight, the whole crowd went outside and lit fireworks with the rest of the neighborhood. Rather than waiting until morning, as Sammy was used to, the Hernandes celebrated Christmas Day as soon as it was Christmas. No sooner had the last firework exploded, then they went inside and opened presents.

Sammy expected to receive nothing. What more could he want than food, shelter, and a job? The Hernandes family thought differently. From his newfound friends he received a change of clothes and a leather necklace from which hung a miniature replica of the Cristo Redentor carved from wood.

“Now you’ll have something to wear besides Adam’s old things,” Karéna told him.

“And you can remember your time here after you go home,” Rebecca added.

Sammy thanked them so many times they had to tell him to stop.

The day after Christmas, Floyd woke Sammy and Adam early in the morning to drive to the family shop and prepare it for opening. They got up, bleary eyed and yawning from the previous days’ festivities, and headed to the car.

Floyd had already taught Sammy how to wrap meats. “That’s all you’ll do is wrap them up,” he’d explained on Sammy’s first day in the shop. “Cutting meats is too difficult. You can never learn enough in one week. Even I haven’t perfected my craft, not after many, many years.”

So Sammy stayed in the back of the store with Adam and Fernando. Fernando was an apprentice and cousin of the Hernandes family. Judging by the tattoos up and down Fernando’s arms, he had a thing for the Catholic saints. When Sammy asked him about them, Fernando just chuckled.

“You gotta have someone watching your back, right, man?”

Sammy also quickly learned that Fernando’s favorite thing to say was
man
. “You got that order, man? You need some help, man? I met this girl the other day . . . so hot, man! She melted my teeth, man!” It wore on Sammy’s nerves.

When Floyd was in front with customers, Fernando took over the responsibility of cutting meats. Sammy discovered he actually enjoyed butchering once he got past the goriness of it. Floyd’s shop had an amazing collection of knives and tools. Fernando said that they prepared over three dozen kinds of meat and fish. Occasionally they special ordered them for the wealthy customers. Before Sammy wrapped them, Fernando and Adam diced, sliced, peppered, or tenderized the cuts until they met Floyd’s demanding specifications.

From morning until evening, whether it was salami, turkey, beef, mutton, or whatever, Sammy prepared and packaged the cut meats alongside Adam and Fernando. Even though the two boys helped him and showed him how to do things, Sammy felt like an outcast. Part of this feeling came from the fact that Adam still did not like Sammy, and his distrust slowly carried over to Fernando. He often caught Adam watching him from the corner of his eye, and had to endure Fernando double checking most of his tasks. He was fairly sure they were trying to catch him stealing, which he found humorous, given his past criminal behavior.

In fact, he’d been very careful not to do anything unusual around the family, particularly Adam. He also kept a close guard on what he said about himself, always making sure he kept his story straight. He did not want to arouse any doubt surrounding his circumstances. As far as Floyd and his wife knew, he was Albert, a fifteen-year-old boy who ran away from his abusive parents, and was now traveling to Topeka where his uncle and aunt lived, although his family had originated in the far northern territories.

It was a different kind of busy than he was used to, but he gained a new understanding of the meaning of a hard day’s work when the shop was clean and closed. Blood and bits of meat decorated his apron like a morbid Rorschach pattern when he hung it up. They all climbed back into Floyd’s truck and drove home. Most of the conversation centered around football matches, the day’s orders, and dinner. Sammy stared outside, watching the city go by as they drove. He let his mind wander, subconsciously counting the funny pink signs posted every couple kilometers reminding people to
KEEP THE PEACE!
At dinner, Floyd mentioned how impressed he was with Sammy’s hard work.

“If you weren’t headed north I’d keep you on as a third apprentice,” he added. “Your work ethic might rub off on the other two.”

Floyd’s daughters thought this was the best idea they’d ever heard and begged Sammy to change his mind about leaving. Adam, however, was visibly chafed by the comment and made Sammy pay for it the next day.

“Really, Albert?” he asked as he held Sammy’s most recently wrapped log of chuck beef in his hand like a club. “A retard could wrap this meat better. Quit being such a hobo.”

“Hobo,” Fernando chuckled in the corner, not looking at Sammy. “That’s funny, man.”

Adam threw the meat back into Sammy’s chest and ordered, “Redo it.”

Sammy bit his tongue and did as he was told, but this only empowered the two boys.

As the days passed, Sammy knew his work was getting better but their taunts became worse. Adam always made sure he gave Sammy a bump each time they passed. Soon, the bumps turned into trips or shoves. Fernando wasn’t as bad. He just liked finding ways to get Sammy to do things for him. Sammy had seen it all before. Bullies at school and the Grinder all used similar tactics.

A voice in the back of his head reminded him that doing anything to retaliate could undo his whole plan. With only two days left, he could deal with it. The closest he came to losing his cool was when Adam intentionally body checked Sammy, then punished Sammy more with a full strength shove.

“Watch it!” he hissed at Sammy.

“You watch it,” Sammy replied.

Adam faced Sammy, trying to stare him down, but Sammy didn’t budge. He had a few centimeters’ height advantage over Floyd’s son, not to mention months of training. Before the moment between them had passed, Sammy took a deep breath.
If I gave him just the tiniest glimmer of how lethal I can be
. . . But he knew he couldn’t. He gazed at Adam calmly and raised a finger slowly until it was right in between Adam’s eyes. Adam seemed mesmerized by the finger.
Just blast him with one finger, right in the forehead.

Don’t do it, Sammy. Bad bad bad idea. You’re going to Wichita!

Adam looked past the finger, into Sammy’s eyes, and swallowed hard.
There’s fear there. He knows I’m serious.
Then, as if he’d snapped out of a trance, Adam snarled and pushed Sammy away.

After that, both boys did their best to avoid each other. Perhaps Adam didn’t want to know what would happen if he pushed Sammy hard enough, or maybe he finally realized Sammy had no intention of sticking around.

The morning of Sammy’s last day at the butcher shop, Floyd put an arm around him and gave him a smile.

“Got the ticket for you. Rio to Topeka. It’s under the front counter, and I’ll give it to you as soon as we close up. It’s good for any time. So you can leave tonight or in the morning. Either way, you’ll have enough time to shower and change. I’ll get you a lift to the hub if you want.”

“That’d be great, Floyd.” Sammy said with much sincerity. “Thanks so much again for everything.”

“It’s been my pleasure, Albert. My pleasure. Sure wish you’d stay, though. Live with us, be like one of our own . . . marry Rebecca.” Floyd chuckled at his own comment and rubbed Sammy’s back with his open palm.

“I wish I could. Really.”

Floyd clapped Sammy on the back and returned to the front of the store. “No need to worry. I’ve got until the end of the day to convince you otherwise!”

Sammy went back to his duties wearing a huge grin, even the sight of Fernando and Adam looking over their shoulders at him and chuckling couldn’t bring him down.
I can’t believe it worked!

Floyd gave him a particularly large order of thin-sliced beef that needed spicing, tenderizing, and wrapping, then announced he was going across the street to take his lunch break. The other boys cut it and left Sammy to do the rest of the work. When he finished, Fernando told him to wrap up the rest of the meat and put it back in the cooler. He noticed a strange tone in Fernando’s voice, but ignored it.

The cooler was big and old, one of its casters had fallen off long ago. A block of wood had been jammed in its place to stabilize the base. Sammy had to walk into it to place the meat in its spot. His breath billowed around his head and his arm hairs stood on end. Just as he started to hang up the meat, he saw the door start to close behind him. Dropping the meat to the floor, he rushed over and threw his shoulder against the cold metal.

“He caught me!” Adam said with a cold laugh. “Get over here and help!”

Sammy had no desire to be locked in until Floyd got back from lunch, so he shoved again. He shoved it hard enough that it rocked the standing cooler on its base. Through the space in the door, Sammy heard Fernando hurrying over to help. Sammy slammed his shoulder into the door three more times, rocking the cooler more each time.

Adam shouted out a curse and let go of the door, leaving Sammy to pop out of the cooler like a pressurized cork.

“Watch out, man!” Fernando warned Sammy, but it was too late.

A big box full of Floyd’s old, worn knives had been shoved on top of the cooler. Sammy, in all his pushing, had tipped the cooler off the block of wood, and the box slid off and tipped its contents right onto him.

He didn’t think. He just reacted.

With both hands, he fired blasts repeatedly at the oncoming blades, jetting half the knives across the room, and pushing the rest harmlessly out of the way. Part of his blast must have connected with Adam, because during the commotion he hit the ground hard.

“Albert! Are you all right, man? It was Adam’s idea! It was supposed to be a joke, man. You know, to scare you!”