My
head hurts. But it wasn't enough for them to keep me in the
hospital...especially not with all the serious cases rolling in, from the
earthquake to the riots.
I'm
standing in front of Logan Cale's apartment. The downstairs lobby was left in
disarray, the security guard nowhere to be seen. It looked like something had
exploded in the elevator. Yellowish-white powder was everywhere. I thought back
to my college days and realized it was the chemicals from a fire extinguisher.
Much, much more than I used to see when the room parties would get out of hand.
My
head throbs, reminding me of the morning //after// a room party.
I
walk forward, stepping carefully over Logan's threshold. The door looks as
though it's been broken in.
Inside
is chaos. There are several bottles laying on the kitchen counter, still open.
A chair is knocked over. Things are scattered, broken. What looks like a
person-sized hole is gracing one wall. I haven't seen this much damage since
the Teke Spring Blast.
And
Logan's computer equipment - all of it - is gone. I think of my missing laptop
and sigh in empathy. I take in all that I can, trying to touch as little as I
can. Sure I need clues, but this is a friend's place. Well, an acquaintance,
anyway. And he's going to be annoyed enough at the state of things as it is.
Finally
I figure I've seen enough. I pick my way carefully back out, and try to force
the door shut. I'm partially successful.
Back
on the street, I hear a very frightening noise. The angry growl of a crowd of
people approaching...rapidly. I start moving in the opposite direction, make
about a block before I see them round the corner. I glance ahead...and see a
line of cops, heading this way.
Great.
Just great. News story of the century, no way to record it, and soon to be
strawberry jam caught between the proverbial rock and the hard place. I look
around frantically. There's a bar tucked into a building in the middle of the
street. The door is open and unbelievably, a sign says "Open." I bolt
for it, slam the door behind me and frantically turn the lock.
Panting,
I turn around. It's a standard bar, with one exception. A large pathway has
been made from door to bar, with...a skid mark? Looks to be from a
motorcycle...on the floor. I look up. Every eye is on me. Well, almost every
eye. There's an extremely drunken older man, military by his bearing, bruised
and battered and covered in a remarkably familiar whitish-yellow powder,
singing off-color songs to an adorable four year old girl.
In
the silence, his voice is clear, if not crystal.
"A-roving,
a-roving, since roving's been my ru-i-in...I'll go no more a-roving with you,
fair maid," he sings lustily.
The
little girl pays him no mind, thrusts two fists firmly into what I now see is a
very abused chocolate cake. She brings cake-filled hands up to her face, crams
her mouth full of one handful.
The
bartender looks very weary. He ignores his two most colorful patrons, and nods
to me. "Got a reason for doing that?" he asks
I
nod, moving to the bar and trying to find a relatively clean place to sit. The
bar is packed...except for around the drunk guy and the little girl. Mentally
shrugging, I settle in. "There's an angry crazed mob and the police
looking to mix it up on your doorstep," I tell him.
He
springs into action, reaching low behind the bar and slapping a switch. There's
a growl of a motor starting and metal shutters start rolling down from the
ceiling by the window. The door is solid and secure. "Any other type of mob
that you know of, lady?" he asks.
"You
know, you //could// be grateful you got the warning instead of the repair
bill," I reply, hotly but as sweetly as I could manage. Catch more
flies...
"So
what are you drinking?" he asks me gruffly. I start to shake my head and
instantly regret it. He catches the gesture anyway. "Oh no, lassie,"
he says. "There may be an angry mob out there, but if you're not drinking,
you're out. I got a business to run." I reach for my nonexistent purse and
start to curse.
"Hey,
thash no way to treat a lady," Mr. Military says. "Here, I'll buy one
for her." He waves a handful of bills at the bartender, who makes them
disappear without even seeming to move. "Get her shomething shweet...you
know, one of those fruity thingsh the girlsh sheem to like."
He
winks at the bartender, nearly knocking his jaw on the bar in the exaggerated
movements of one truly three sheets gone. He then turns with a leer towards me.
Oh
well, I was going to pump him for questions anyway. Might as well take advantage
of the situation.
"Thank
you!" I coo in the voice that has gotten me past more security checkpoints
than I can count. "You are truly a gentleman. And an officer as
well?" I ask, brushing off a bit of powder on his jacket to peer at the
name. It read "Lydecker." "I love a man in uniform!" I say
brightly.
"Yah,
I'm a sholdier," he slurs. "Good to have around for proteckshun. I
know how to take care of people." He swaggers so much, he nearly falls off
the barstool. The noise of the riot outside starts dying off.
"Really?
Were you taking care of someone when this happened?" I ask, leaning in
close and dusting off his shoulders. He looks down at himself, appearing
surprised at his state. He starts to brush himself off.
"Ah...Ah'm
not shure," he says. Confusion floods his face. "I wash with...a
friend...and...now I'm here..." He sounds much younger and unsure of
himself than the lines on his face indicate.
Suddenly
the door shakes with impact. Like everyone else, I turn to stare. Again it
quakes, then a third time, and finally it bursts open. The figure framed in the
doorway isn't all that large or impressive of itself, but I find the hair on
the back of my neck rising, anyway. Something beyond reporter's instincts is
telling me this person represents a threat, and a big one.
"Tha'sh
him!" my inebriated pal says joyfully. "Hey, buddy! We got the
chucko'luck cake for Shandy here..."
The
imposing figure strides towards us. I gulp. I've faced a lot of things in my
career, but this might be more than I'm prepared to take on…
Point of View: KENDRA*****************************************
I
was carrying computer stuff into the cabin while I was listening to Bling and
Max talk. I'm still trying to absorb everything that's happened the past couple
of weeks. I'm a little worried about Max but I know she will be okay. She's
good at taking care of things.
Suddenly
I hear a phone ringing. It sounds like Bling's. Everyone goes running to see
who it is and Bling drops it. It goes
flying. I tried to get to it but Max beat me. By the time she answered it,
Logan had already hung up.
When
I heard that he was okay, I felt the warmth of relief. This should help Max
lighten up a bit and focus more. Maybe she won't try and get revenge since
Logan didn't get hurt.
Anyways,
I can't help wondering who this Tread guy is, and what Logan is doing with him.
Max certainly seems a little worried but she is more on the positive side.
After
Max hangs up the phone, everyone gets quiet like they are expecting an explanation
or something. I'm not quite sure what is going on but if I need to know someone
will tell me.
So,
I make another trip out to the car to get the last of the computer stuff.
Point of View: MAX*****************************************
Tread's
voice echoes in my head: "Deck's been taken care of. He's a whole new man
now."
What
does that mean? Knowing Tread, anything's possible. And I'm not liking the idea
of him "rescuing" Logan. I thought I was the superhero here.
Anyway,
at least Logan's not with Brin and Tinga.
Tinga.
It seems that she's seriously hurt. Logan said she was delusional. And that
mumble of hers that was directed at me, well, it sounded vicious. Somehow I get
the idea that even in this 'delusional' state of hers she won't be happy to see
me. The only person higher on her hit list is Zack.
All
in all, not a good sitch here. Hence why I'm going back there.
"Bling,
you're in charge," I say, handing him Logan's hard drive before he can
refuse.
"Where
are you going?" He asks. "Logan said he'd meet us here."
"But
that's with Tread. I don't want him anywhere near this cabin. Nor do I want
Tinga coming here, no matter how 'delusional' she is. We all learned to fake it
at Manticore, so I'm not trusting her any farther than I can throw her."
Or Brin, for that matter . . .
"Max,
be careful, Tread-"
"I
know Tread. For some reason only known to him, he's happy right now. But that
could change. And I don't want Logan anywhere near him should that
change." Those two don't always see eye to eye.
Tread
helped me once before, before I even knew he existed. Although, plunging the
entire country into THE Great Depression just to cover 12 kids' a**es is a bit
excessive. But then Tread never did do anything by halves. Neither would I.
Besides,
I left my baby back there. Wouldn't want her to get stolen.
Bling
shakes his head after me as I leave. I don't blame him. In this situation, any
option is bad.
Logan's
Aztec works for a get away vehicle, but it's really no substitute for my Ninja.
Speeding back to Seattle, a figure on a Harley passes me. A real Harley.
Tread's
Harley.
But
that was way too small to be Tread. But Tread wouldn't *let* any one take his
bike. He and I are kindred spirits in that respect.
THIS
IS A TRAP, the voice in my head screams. And if it is, I don't like leaving
Logan with Tread. And Tinga.
Too
late, I'm already trailing her. Flooring it, I catch up. Damn she's quick.
Although I'll bet Tread's 'enhanced' his bike. For a second we lock eyes and I
see my baby sister, the one Zack and I left on that bench. Then her eyes cloud
over, and she looks . . . unbalanced. Maybe this isn't a trap . . . at least
not the kind I thought it was.
Brin
veers off to the road. I pull the Aztec's steering wheel to the side, following
her.
Point of View: ORIGINAL
CINDY******************************
I was carrying
helping Bling (who was now wasn't moaning whenever he moved) hook up Logan's
computers up on top of a large table. I was sitting there, mind still reeling
from everything that had happened that day when it hit me. I was just thinking
'God, If I could find the idiot who made these Herbal Gummies....'
"Oh My God! I got it!"
Bling winced at my shout, and I might have felt bad for him if the adrenaline wasn't
pumping through my veins. Kendra came running in to the room from the kitchen
where she was trying to find some pain killers for Bling.
"What happened? I heard you shout."
"Bling you have the passwords right?" I asked waving my hands
excitedly towards the computers.
"Uhh..yea, why? Logan is ok now."
"I figured it out. If we can find out who made the Herbal Gummies, we can
find out how to cure the people and can get rid of them."
"Right....and...?"Bling asked me. He must have gotten bashed on the
head harder than I thought if he still wasn't getting it.
"We can use Logan's Eyes Only stuff to find out where they are coming
from." I said rolling my eyes.
"Cindy, I hate to break it to you, but Logan worked for hours on it before
the quake, and he still didn't find anything."
"Well
Roller Boy doesn't have Original Cindy's point of view. He probably didn't know
where to look. Now come one and get this these things working!"
Point of View: TREAD****************************************
Unfinished
business. That's why we're back in Seattle. Logan gave me the evil eye as I
carried him through his lobby. He recognized my handiwork. Wasn't happy about
his front door either. The funny thing was… he just looked at the Lydecker sized
hole in the wall and smiled.
"Again?"
he asked.
I
just shrugged. Last time I was in Logan's apartment was when I tried to kill
him. I made a real mess then. Well, Max helped. She made the holes instead of
Lydecker that time. Broke 14 of my bones too.
I
plopped him in his chair and he paused for moment looking at the barren desk
where his computer usually was.
"I've
got to collect some things." he said to me.
"Me
too. I'll meet you at the bar up the block."
"Okay…"
He gave me an odd look.
"Myotron."
I held out my hand. He hesitated.
"Tinga's
still in the car. It's the safest way to keep her from getting rowdy."
He
pulls it out and looks at it, then throws it to me..
"Since
when are you into non-lethals?"
"Since
missing X-5's started turning up all over Seattle."
I
left him in his apartment.
The
elevator doors open. Tinga is standing right there. She shoves in past me and
starts pressing buttons on the wrong side of the elevator. The side with no
buttons.
"What
floor?" I ask, and motion her to the proper side. She smiles at me and
wobbly leans over to press the buttons. As she does I hit her with the Myotron
and she collapses into my arms.
I
carry Tinga back out to the Humvee and dump her in the back again. I try to
unscrew the rear door locks and remember I'm dealing with an X-5, so what's the
point. She could probably kick the door off as easily as I would.
So
I get in and I drive up to the end of the block. Logan's got his own wheels and
it's not that far.
I
pull up in front of the bar at the end of the block.
As
I try the door, I realize it's bolted shut.
I
slam it once… and again. My version of knocking.
I
hear the locks all unlock at once. Guess the bartender decided to leave the
door on its hinges. The door swings open with a bang.
"Tha'sh
him!" Lydecker says joyfully. "Hey, buddy! We got the chucko'luck
cake for Sandy here..."
Sandy?!?
Oh The kid… I probably should have found out her name.
Max,
Tinga, Brin, Zack…. Sandy? I never chose a name for myself really. Even my
current name is just a joke that no one ever got. Every time some one asks me
my name say "Don't", the next time they ask I say "Tread",
if they ask again I say "On me."
I
guess "Tread" is as good a name as any. It certainly fits me. I just
hope some day WE can answer to Michael again.
"Hi
Mister." The kid says. "Did you find my mommy yet?"
"Not
yet." I answer as I walk up to her.
Her
face is covered in Chocolate and there's a woman standing there next to
Zackdecker.
The
tactical kicks in as I check the woman out. She's taller than I am, sort of
Asian. But what I notice most is the faint white powder on her hands. A quick
glance at Deck and I see his name tag has been cleaned along with a few other
spots. She's sitting on a bar stool, so as I pass by to the girl I flick back
her long brown hair and check for a Barcode.
She
twinges a little as I do it and gives me a dirty look. I return the favor.
"Looking
for something special?" she quips.
Her
eyes get a crafty look. "So, you here to help my buddy back to base? I
assume you serve with him."
"You
writing a book?" I smile at her with my best TV smile, filled with
enthusiasm.
"Something
like that." She smiles and flips her hair back.
"Yeah..."
I change up to my hostile look, and let my genetic hum turn up a little. She
winces.
"Leave this chapter out."
My
attention dwindles as my threat assessment falls. I don't even realize it, but
as I regain my focus I'm holding the little girl's face and cleaning it off
with napkin that I dipped in a glass of water.
I'm
as puzzled by my own behavior as Logan is when rolls into the bar.
It's
gotta be one of those Mad Magazine "What's wrong with this picture"
moments.
A
cold war killing machine is cleaning the face of a little girl next to the
arch-villain who's been hunting his girlfriend. Of all the things I expect out
of his dumbfounded mouth the one I didn't expect was…
"Lacey?"
He
spins his chair and heads outside as fast as he came in.
The
woman rushes after him, glancing back at me as she goes.
I
hand the little girl to Zackdecker.
"C'mon…
Zack. We're outta here." I toss the bartender the other Thousand I
promised him.
Point of View: HERBAL***************************************
It
started out a blessed day indeed. The shower ran water that was not quite
frigid, and I felt well rested after my two days off of JamPony. Who would know
that it would merely take a sneeze in our fearless leaders face to allow him to
see the enlightenment of allowing employees to take a day in solitary
self-improvement.
The
streets are more unruly than usual, with brothers speaking in strange panic of
'Lydecker,' and 'Manti-something.' "Peace, my brothers," I tell them.
"It's all good." Someone tries to take my watch, claiming that they
need it to rescue some of our brothers called by x-5s. I explain to him that he
must have patience, and embrace the completeness of life, and that the watch
has its part to play on my wrist, but before I can explain enlightenment, he
has run away, covering the back of his neck with one hand.
JamPony
appears busy, but with more chaos than usual. Normal looks queasy, and
disoriented, and jumps whenever the phone rings. "Peace, keeper of my
timecard," I tell him. He doesn't understand me, looks at me blankly and
waves me off without a bip.
Some
soul with an understanding of the nature of give and receive has left a bag of
gummies on the table in the staff area, and, having taken part in my morning
religious rituals, I can feel the wisdom of my stomach urging me to sample
them...
Point of View: BRIN***************************************
Good,
she's following me. I veer off the road and take the Harley into the woods. And
right through a nice puddle of mud. Have some mud pie, Max.
Drat,
she dodged most of it. Oh well, the Harley's smaller and faster than the Aztec.
She won't be able to keep up with me. Speeding through the forest, I flash back
to Manticore. Kids with guns slinking along on their stomachs. Escaping and
Evading. Small figures in camouflage running between trees.
Then
barefooted kids in hospital gowns running through the dark night. Max. Me.
Zack. Tinga. Jondie. Escaping and Evading.
I
escaped on my own two feet that night. Not like the night Max and Zack rescued
me and then left me on that bench. My own siblings let them take me back to Manticore.
I
return to myself just in time to keep from crashing into a tree. Swerving to
the right, I take the curve a little too hard and the bike tips out from under
me. Launching myself off the handlebars, I flip over the front and land neatly
on the ground. Max pulls the Aztec to a halt and jumps out. I guess here is as
good a place as any for a fight. Time to pay the piper, Big Sister.
"Brin,"
Max snarls, "you don't have to do this."
"Oh
yeah?" My fist is halfway to her face as I'm saying this. She blocks it an
inch from her cheek. Then we're trading punches, as fast as we can. Max lashes
out in a kick, and I jump back, jumping clear over the bike.
Launching
herself into the air, she clears the Harley too, and comes at me with a flying
kick. Throwing myself to the ground, I dive under her and roll, coming up
behind her. She whips around in a spin kick the second she hits the ground. I
block, shoving her into a tree. She rebounds and tries to grab my arm. I twist
out of her grasp and run up a tree, flipping and landing behind her again.
"Behind
you," I sneer, grabbing a fist full of her curls. I yank her head back,
forcing her to look up at me. "Deserter," I spit,
"traitor."
"No,
Brin, you're the traitor." Her voice is soft, but her face is hard. She grabs
my shoulder, THE shoulder. Damn it hurts where that psycho managed to land one.
She flips me over her head. I let go and fly, landing and rolling up to my
feet. Hitting her with my forearm, I knock her down in the mud.
"Mud,"
she says contemptuously. Hmm, so the princess doesn't like mud, does she? I
kick a nice glob at her and it splatters on her face and in her hair.
"Enjoy
it, Maxie, mud's good for your complexion."
She
growls at me, and tries to get up, but slips in the mud and falls flat on her
rear. Trying not to laugh out loud, I pull out a knife and lean down to slash
one of the Harley's tires. Let her try to find a spare out here. I want to have
some fun before I pay her back for her "help".
She
gets up and starts to come after me, but I open the Aztec's door and smash her
in the face. Just hard enough to knock her back down in the mud and allow me to
get away. Reversing direction, I pull the Aztec out of the woods and on to the
highway. I turn in the direction she was coming from. I want to find out what's
there.
Hmm
. . . . clues . . . let's see what he keeps in the glove compartment. I press
the lock and it opens, sunglasses, gum, and change come tumbling out. There's
also a cherry lip gloss. Max's, no doubt. There's also a cellie.
Spare
phone? Prolly. But it's handy. I need to call someone . . .
It
rings three times before the other end picks up. "Yes," a crisp voice
replies.
"It's
334984531. I need some information on a Logan Cale. Charlie-Alpha-Love-Echo.
Does he have a second house?"
"Our
records show a cabin, fifty miles north of your position, 4531. What do you
intend to gain by going there?"
"Oh,
just some bait."
"I
like your thinking, Brin." It's a rare moment when She calls me Brin.
"Thank
you, Ma'am. I'm on my way."
"Oh,
and should Col. Lydecker show up, you know what to do." Yes, I do. He'd
never believe one of "his kids" would betray him. Fatal mistake. She
hangs up the phone.
Time
to go find some bait . . . and play with the mice before I use them. I am part
cat after all.
It's
not hard to find the cabin. Looks like there's three little mice inside.
"Three blind mice, see how they run, three blind mice," I can't help
singing to myself. Have I gone over the edge? Yes. Most definitely.
I
creep around the back and climb on to the roof. Lowering my upper body down, I
peer in a window. Bling and two girls are standing with their backs to me,
looking at a large computer set up. The blonde one presses a key. "This is
a streaming freedom cable hack . . ." erupts from the speakers. Logan is
Eyes Only?
"Kendra!"
the one with the afro puffs screams as the phone rings. Bling answers.
"Hello?
Logan?"
I
turn up my hearing and can make out Logan's voice. "We're on our way. We
have an injured Tinga and . . ." there's a mumbling in the background,
"Zackdecker, as well as Lacey. Let me talk to Max."
"She's
not here. Went to go find you."
"Well,
we'll catch up to her. By the way, don't let Cindy touch my computers, will
you?"
"Too
late," Cindy mutters, "and it was Kendra, not me."
"What???"
Logan's voice becomes rather high pitched.
"No
harm done," Bling assures him. But I know Logan's panties are already in a
wad.
They're
too occupied with the phone to know I'm coming. Taking hold of the window
frame, I do a gymnast's flip, and land quietly on the floor. I sneak up behind them
I take the phone from Bling. He spins around and does a double take. Reminds me
of one of those dolls with the springy necks.
"Remember
me?" I ask sweetly.
"Brin."
Kendra and Cindy stare at me open mouthed. "What?? Brin??" comes from
the other end of the phone. I deck Bling, knocking him flat.
"Hello,
Logan. Bling's a little occupied right now." With a touch of my finger,
the connection is cut. Tossing the phone aside, I grin malevolently at Kendra
and Cindy. "I'm Max's Baby Sister," I explain, "The one she
betrayed."
