The Renegades (The Superiors) (29 page)

“Are
we lost?” she asked.

“No.”

“Well,
then can I ask where we’re going?”

“No.”

He
stood and retrieved the bags and Cali and set off again. Evening had fallen,
but his weakness and headache lingered. His self-heating gloves had long ago
lost all heat, although Cali’s warmth provided enough heat to prevent him from
freezing. Still, a layer of snow began to collect on him within minutes of
starting out again, and he could only see a meter in front of him as he walked.
Just as he had decided to give up and make camp, they came to a high chain-link
fence topped with razor wire. Draven let out a breath of relief. Although the
tent would have prevented them from freezing, he did not want to wake just as a
snowplow bore down on them, only to find they’d camped in the middle of a
street.

“Another
car lot?” Cali asked. She shifted on his back and switched on her flashlight.
The beam cut through the dark, highlighting the streaks of snow that aimed missile-like
towards the earth.

“An
endlot,” Draven corrected, although she could not have known from the vague
heaps of snow visible behind the fence.

“What’s
the difference?”

“Cars
are reclaimed and the parts reused. Nothing here is of use to anyone. No one
will take anything from here. This is where things go when they have been
scanned and stripped and every usable part repurposed.” Though Draven had
climbed the fence earlier, now he freed a section of torn wire and held it
aside while Cali waded through the snow and entered their new home. He glanced
at her, waiting for her to make an accusation or at least ask incredulously if
he thought she deserved nothing better. But she only shone the light about,
squinting into the snow at the irregular shapes uniformly blanketed under a
glittering white shroud.

Draven
led her around the heap to a spot where, on a clear night, they would see only the
tallest buildings glittering in the distance. There, he erected the tent.

“What
are we going to do here?” Cali asked. “Can we stay? Like in the car where you
stayed in Princeton?”

“Perhaps
we can find things to build a shelter,” he said after a pause. Her eager
acceptance of the place as a suitable home shamed him more than a scornful
remark on his inadequacy would have. Build a shelter? They had camped among
piles of trash, trash that had already been scoured several times over and
deemed unfit for any use. She’d given up an apartment with her own garden and
heating and a shower to live in a dump.

Inside
the tent, they shook the last flakes of snow from their clothing and crawled
into their sleep sacks. Draven turned on his side and watched Cali shivering.
The snow fell, scraping the walls of the tent like claws as it shivered down
the sides of the thin fabric.

“If
I had some way to warm you…” he said. “If I had warmth to give to you I would,
even if I had none left for myself.”

“Thanks,”
Cali said through chattering teeth. “That’s really nice.”

A
nice thought, perhaps, but not one that could bring comfort. During the day, he
could perhaps build a small fire without drawing attention. But all the nights of
winter stretched before them, long and bitterly cold. Away from the heat of the
roof and the steam, he did not know how many more she could survive.

“Cali…”
he said, after thinking it over for a bit. “Though you’ve said you’d not like to,
perhaps you’d do well to return to Princeton.”

“I’m
not going back unless you are. I knew how it was going to be the last time you
asked.”

“Yes,
but if you were to die because of me…”

“I’m
fine, really.”

“No,”
he said. “No, you’d be better off with Byron. I can’t imagine what I was
thinking. I’ve never owned a sapien under normal circumstances. Even that might
be difficult for me. This is simply too dangerous. If you die, I do not wish to
be the reason.”

“Good,
because you won’t be. Unless you send me back and he kills me. Then you’d be
the reason.”

“I
could take you to a Confinement tomorrow. You were happy there.”

“I’m
not brainless, you know,” she said, leaning up on one elbow to face him. “They’ll
send me back to Princeton, to him. You told me so yourself.”

“Eventually,”
Draven admitted. “But perhaps he will be happy to have you back, not angry at
you. Tell him I captured you, forced you against your will. I’m a criminal.
They will believe you. Is it not the truth?”

“You
asked me when I was ready, and I told you when I was.”

“Perhaps.
But you would not have come, knowing it would come to this. I took advantage of
your fear and naivety when that breeder came to call upon you.”

Cali
narrowed her eyes. “If you don’t want me, just say so. Don’t pretend it’s for
my own good. Just tell me it’s too hard to take care of me and you’d rather
lose the burden.”

“Very
well. That is what I’ll tell you. I did not know the responsibility involved in
caring for a human. In my current situation—not having a home and being hunted
and my mental state—it’s more than I can manage. And certainly too much to
subject a human to.”

“So
you don’t want me anymore.”

“Of
course I want you… only it’s too complicated just now.”

“Then
I wish you’d never taken me. Now I’ve had some freedom and I’ve learned some
things, and I won’t be happy back in my little garden.” She lay back and switched
off the flashlight, and neither spoke further.

She
had worded it so precisely. Though she still seemed unbearably naïve to him,
she had more knowledge than would fit into a tidy human existence. If she went
back, she would no longer be content with one. Her knowledge of the Superior
world, her experiences, and her small taste of freedom had changed her. She
could return to her home, but she could no more return to her old life than he
could see her as he’d seen saps before Sally showed him that they were more
than animals.

Too
exhausted to start a conversation, he fell into sleep with the thought in his
mind, imagining he’d mention the parallel to her in the evening. But when he awoke,
Cali was gone.

Chapter 41

Byron
knew he shouldn’t go. Milton had forbidden him to go. But he had to see. He
knew it would only put him in a worse mood, sitting back and letting that little
brat toy with him, unable to do a souldamned thing about it. But he was in a
sour mood, one where he relished picking at the wounds in his ego.

As
soon as he could get away, he went straight to Meyer Kidd’s seasonal apartment,
the one he had visited the past two winters with no results—at least not ones
relating to the case. Byron approached Meyer’s door and made himself known. Of
course, Meyer expected him. Probably had it on his inside source that Byron
wasn’t supposed to be there. Maybe he would blackmail Byron with the knowledge,
or more likely, tattle-tale. Wasn’t that what snot-nosed kids did when they
didn’t get their way?

Meyer
opened the door in the same kind of get-up he’d worn every time Byron had seen
him in person—dress pants, button shirt, shiny shoes, hair slicked back and
shiny with some kind of polish.

“Well,
hello there, Enforcer,” he said, opening the door wide. “What a pleasure. I
hope you are well. Come in, come in.” Meyer gestured grandly, almost bowing,
and Byron entered an apartment very much like his own. Meyer knew the layout.
He could have found a glitch in the security system and gotten saps out.
Probably created the glitch himself, the smug little bastard. And he knew how
to break into the garden, no doubt, so he’d probably shared confidential
information and let his Third bitch do his dirty work.

Byron
followed the boy back to the living area. Couch, chair, glass coffee table,
television in the wall. Sparsely furnished and devoid of decorations, just as
he kept it every winter.

“I
always have the urge to ask you to go get your parents when you open the door,”
Byron said, glancing around the room absently.

“I
can see you’re one to underestimate others,” Meyer said. “But we’re only
superior to other species, Enforcer. Not each other.”

“Tell
that to a First.”

Meyer
laughed and sank to the edge of the chair, his body never losing its military
stiffness. “Have a seat,” he said. “I always fancy the chance to catch up with
old friends.”

Old
friends, my ass
, Byron thought. He sat and leaned back, resting his arm
along the back of the couch. “Me, too.”

“Would
you care for a beverage? I seem to remember you like cold drinks, but
unfortunately, I’ve not got any on hand. I brought up quite a collection of
saps, though. I’m sure you’d find one to your liking.”

Byron
struggled to maintain control. For some reason, this kid could always irk him
like no one else. “Thank you,” he said, trying to focus on Meyer’s hospitality
instead of the certainty that the kid was taunting him.

Meyer
turned and called down the hall, “Fetch me the saps.” A minute later, a man
ushered four saps into the room, all of them blinking and sleepy-eyed.

“That’s
a lot of saps for a few months’ stay,” Byron said. “Planning to ‘lose’ some
again this year?”

Meyer
laughed and gave a dismissive wave that reminded Byron of one of his wife’s
gestures. This only irritated him further. “Not this year, Enforcer,” Meyer
said. “But I didn’t want to split up the family for so long, with the new baby
and all. You know what I always say about a happy sap.”

“That
I do,” Byron said, ignoring the perfect picture this family made. The picture
his own saps had failed to duplicate. He couldn’t help but suspect that Meyer
was being a smug little shitstain because he had Byron’s sapien hidden away
somewhere.

“Your
choice,” Meyer said, gesturing to the array of saps in front of them. “You’re
my guest. Do you prefer female or male? Or perhaps a sapling, even a baby? I
have heard you’re quite fond of babies.”

“The
mature female is fine,” Byron said. With downcast eyes, she approached and sat
on the couch beside him—disgusting, the way some people let their saps
behave—and offered her arm. Though she showed her training and did not look at
him directly, Byron would never have allowed a sap to sit beside him in his own
home, nor would he allow them to smear his furniture with their stench. Meyer
had no such reservations. While Byron drew, Meyer pulled the sapling onto his
lap. Byron fought the urge to regurgitate the sap he’d drunk. To touch one of
them that way...

He
broke off after a ration and pushed the arm away. “You are excused,” he said.

“Oh,
do let her stay,” Meyer said, smiling. His teeth were tinged with red. “I like
to conversate and just have a sip now and then, don’t you? It’s quite pleasing.
Here, pull her up on your lap like so.”

“No
thank you, I ate before I came.”

“You
don’t know what you’re missing,” Meyer said, cradling his sapling in his arms.
“They’re just like a heated blanket that never gets cold.”

“I’m
warm, thank you,” Byron said, refusing to let the kid bait him. “You may
leave,” he said to the sap. She stood, and Meyer waved a hand dismissing the
three saps back to their quarters.

“Tell
me, Enforcer, how have you been? I’m pleased as punch that you popped by.”

“I
wouldn’t miss it for anything. We’re collecting information on the case, as you
know, and it’s going very well. Soon we’ll start making arrests.”

Meyer
raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“Yes.
That’s so.”

“So
you’ve figured it all out. That’s fantastic news. I cannot wait to get my
Herman back.”

“And
your Tom?”

Meyer’s
eyes widened in feigned surprise. “You mean he’s still alive?”

Byron
fought the urge to snarl at the obvious phoniness of Meyer’s reply. “We’re
still identifying the dead from the living.”

“What
a relief that you’ve closed the case. I suppose now I won’t have the pleasure
of having a posse of Enforcers trailing me everywhere I go. It’s really too
bad, too. It made me feel right important. Almost like a First, with all those
bodyguards.”

“Don’t
be too disappointed,” Byron said. “I’m sure we can spare an Enforcer or two to
keep eyes on you.”

“You
can’t still think I’m involved.”

“You
can play that innocent act all you like. We both know it’s an act.”

“And
what basis for suspicion do you have, Enforcer? If I may ask.”

“You
may not, actually.”

“Ah,
so you just don’t fancy me. That’s top. I’ve plenty of friends elsewhere.”

“As
they say, money makes friends.”

“They
do say that,” Meyer said. “Money makes most everything. You know there’s an old
human saying, ‘money can’t buy you love.’ Or is it happiness? I can’t remember.
It’s no wonder that saying has disappeared with their leadership, though. Money
can buy anything you want it to. Just because money bought love doesn’t make it
any less real. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Most
human expressions are garbage.”

“Yes,
as brainless as they are. Right, Magpie?” Meyer said to the dozing sapien in
his lap. He stopped to draw on her wrist for a minute. “So, your case goes
well,” he said, when he’d finished sipping. “How is your own family of saps
coming along? Got little sap babies screaming all hours of the day?”

“Not
yet,” Byron said, stiffening. “How is your flock?”

“Oh,
you know how it goes. I really tire of them so quickly. It’s right nice getting
new ones whenever I please. I do so miss the ones I’ve lost, though.” Meyer
cleaned a drop of sap from the sapling’s arm before asking, “How’s your little
runaway?”

Byron
grimaced. “I’m sure you’ve heard.”

“Heard
what?”

“Don’t
play dumb, Meyer. It doesn’t suit your egotism.”

“I’m
sure I have no idea what you’re about.”

“Have
it your way. We’ll pretend you don’t know that she was stolen by one of
your…cohorts.”

“Stolen?”
Meyer said, his eyed widening. “You let her outside alone?”

“She
was in the garden when someone broke in,” Byron said slowly, annoyed at having
to tell Meyer something he already knew, at being pulled into the boy’s game.

Meyer
looked at him for a moment and then burst into laughter, rocking back and forth
so hard he dumped his sapling onto the floor in the process. For at least two
minutes without stopping, he slapped his knees and hooted with snide glee. Then
he quieted and wiped his eyes as if they produced tears. He should have gone
into acting instead of business. He hardly qualified as Second Order. Surely
he’d fit in better with the Thirds in entertainment.

“That’s
priceless,” Meyer said. “Stolen. Last year ran away, this year stolen.”

“Don’t
fool yourself, Meyer. I know you had your finger in it.”

“Me?
Why, I wasn’t even here.” Meyer pulled his sapling back onto his lap and patted
her absently while he spoke.

“Angel
and Draven were. And you have a private helicopter. You could have traveled
without registering.”

“I’d
never do something so humanoid. I’m worth far too much.”

“So
you had your army of missing persons act for you,” Byron said. “I know, I made
you angry and you retaliated. Don’t think I don’t see what you’re up to.”

“My
army? What am I ‘up to,’ if I may ask?”

“You’re
at the top of our list. We will find every detail, and you will be held
accountable. We know you’ve been stealing saps and breeding them, even arming
them against capture.”

“For
what purpose?” Meyer leaned forward, his eyes sparkling. “Why would I arm
sapiens when they could kill me, too? Are you fool enough to think I’m making a
day army to take the world back from Superiors?”

“It’s
possible.”

Meyer
threw his head back and cackled. Byron knew his own laugh could border on chilling
when he wanted it to, but it could not compare to the high, creepy laughter of
a child. “You got me, Enforcer. I shall rule the world! Bahahaha—,” Meyer burst
out, then stopped mid-laugh. “I’m only pulling a joke.”

Byron
studied the boy, trying to determine if Meyer had let some truth slip and
stopped when he realized his mistake, or if it was all part of the act.

“Tell
me, good sir, why I’d want humans to rule the earth again,” Meyer said. “I’m a
Superior, a rich and somewhat famous one, with more money than I’ll ever be
able to spend if I live until eternity. I have saps enough to feed a full staff
in three cities. Why would I want to go into hiding, lurking in the night,
escaping the very people who were once my livestock?”

“There
are many reasons people do irrational things,” Byron said, somewhat proud that
he’d kept his calm so well the whole visit. “Some people do them for no reason
at all. It’s called insanity.”

“You
accuse me of insanity?”

“Accuse
is a strong word.”

Meyer
laughed and clapped his pure white hands. “Oh, I do hope you’ll come by often.
You entertain me so.”

“You
can count on it.”

For
a few seconds, Meyer sipped on his sapling, who had settled herself into his
lap and began to doze again. “So, you think I stole your sapien.”

“Not
directly. You had her stolen. We already know the thief and have trackers on
him now.”

“Is
that so? And who might it be?”

“That
is classified information, of course.”

“But
you said I already know. Besides, you know I am privy to classified information
if I want it.”

“Careful
what you say there. You may be a Second, but I am an Enforcer.”

“No
matter,” Meyer said, waving a hand in that same dismissive manner. “I’ve more
money than you will see in a lifetime. I can buy anything I want, even
information.”

Byron
bristled. “You come close to treason, son. Rest assured, I would not hesitate
to arrest you for it, if I can’t find evidence of other criminal activity. You
may have money, but I have the power here.”

“Ah,
but even you should know, money speaks louder than titles. That’s the beauty,
and the flaw, of capitalism. Maybe we should have gone with a different form of
government, as Belarus or Greenland chose.”

“That’s
treason,” Byron growled. “I could arrest you this moment.”

“But
you won’t,” Meyer said. “Then you’d have no chance to prove that I’m innocent.
Besides, we all know that every form of government is flawed. There is no
perfect power, because money buys power. Or, if you prefer, I could buy you.”

“You
will never have that power,” Byron said, struggling to steady his voice. “Money
may speak louder than power, but it will never speak louder than principle,
than truth.”

“In
my experience, that depends on the sum more than the person,” Meyer said. “We
all have our price.”

“There’s
no price for what is right.”

“Maybe
so, maybe so. But I’m curious. Who stole your sapien, Enforcer? How much did I
pay him, in your fantasy?”

“I
doubt you’d have to pay him much. He’s a snake, an Illegal, quite an
unscrupulous character.”

“Ah,
but Illegals don’t exist. Isn’t that right?”

“They
have no right to exist,” Byron answered easily. “We will be better off when
anyone who has fallen from the system has fallen from existence. You know
that.”

“So
who is this Illegal you’ve deluded yourself into believing I employ? Believe it
or not, I know the name of each and every employee on my payroll. And despite
your misplaced paranoia regarding my involvement, I’d be happy to help if I
could.”

“Ah,
but Illegals don’t have names. You should know that. I’m sure you get lots of
them crawling in here trying to get your charity.”

“Very
true,” Meyer said, a tragic look on his weasely little face. “But by law, I
cannot repaper anyone who has sold his papers. So I’m sure if he’s an Illegal,
I haven’t seen him.”

“I’m
talking about your minion, that Third Order traitor, Draven,” Byron said. What
did it matter if he divulged information the kid already had? Byron had no
qualms about revealing Draven’s name and blackening his reputation. Draven
would be on trial soon enough, and no smudging of his name would hurt his case
more than his own actions had.