Chapter 2
"Hey man, you ready to start the day?"
I rolled over and opened my eyes. It was the next morning, and Bling's silhouette stood in front of the doorway. He was leaning slightly in, and when he saw my eyes he smiled. "When Logan's busy, he likes it when others aren't around. If you catch me."
I nodded. A quick shower later, I had my clothes on and we were walking the streets of Seattle. Of course, I'd seen the set on TV hundreds of times, and I suspected that, like any other show, the sets were redesigned and used to represent different parts of the city. However, in the pseudo-reality of the show, there was no set: the carnage stretched as far as my eyes could see. The streets were littered with garbage, which was sometimes piled almost to the second story of the surrounding buildings. People wandered the streets or huddled around flaming garbage cans. For the most part they seemed like decent people; only wanting to be left alone.
It was pretty disturbing. "Hey Bling," I asked, "when was the Pulse?" I knew it was common piece of Dark Angel trivia, but damned if I could remember it.
"June 1st, 12:05 PM," Bling replied without a moment's hesitation. Then he looked at me quizzically. "Everyone remembers that."
"I have a poor memory," I answered by way of explanation.
"If you say so," Bling answered. We were passing by a café. "Hey, you wanna grab a bite to eat?"
"Sure," I answered. "I'm not really hungry, but I could use something to drink."
Inside we sat down and ordered. Bling ordered a cheeseburger, and when I asked him if it was appropriate for a physical trainer to be grubbin' on big, greasy burgers, he shrugged if off. "I can afford to do it once in a while."
Suddenly the football game on the TV went blank, and the Eyes Only logo appeared. "So that's what he was doing," I commented.
"Do not attempt to adjust your set," the voice said. "This is a Streaming Freedom Video. It cannot be traced. It cannot be stopped. And it is the only free voice left in this city."
"Aw, somebody put the game back on!" yelled another customer at the far end of the bar. "I got fifty bucks riding on this!" There were roars of laughter.
Bling shook his head. "There are just some people," he said. "They'd rather remain ignorant about the world."
A picture of Walter Erhardt appeared on the TV screen. "Many of you may recognize this man as a respected businessman of the community," the voice continued. "What you may not realize is that, even as Walter Erhardt appears to be a legitimate exporter with a contract from the city for the exportation of illegal immigrants, many of the immigrants are kept behind and murdered. The extra space is given to a far more lucrative shipment: drugs. Marijuana, cocaine, you name it. Our only hope for bringing this criminal to justice lies in you, the citizens, since the government would never voluntarily convict him for doing their dirty work for them."
As we watched, I saw the other people calm down and pay attention. I had to admit, Logan's method was pretty reliable. It certainly caught other people's interest.
"Poor Logan," Bling was saying. He looked at me out of the corner of his eye. "You don't know how hard it is on him, not being able to walk."
I nodded. "It won't be too bad, in the long run," I offered. "If the season finale's any indication, he'll be able to walk again. It's been a tough time, but he'll be better for it."
"I wish I had your confidence," Bling murmured.
"Trust me," I said. "This episode is a relatively early repeat."
It was after noon by the time we returned to Logan's apartment. Bling had shown me all sorts of spots around Seattle. What interested me the most (for obvious reasons) was the Space Needle. I asked him if we could go up there, because I was in the mood to do a dramatic soliloquy. He didn't get the joke.
Bling pushed the door open and walked in. "Yo, Logan. We're back."
"Nobody ever seems to knock around here," I said. "Maybe Logan wouldn't be so paranoid if he knew we were about to come in."
"Hmm," Bling said. "Logan! You here?" He wandered into Logan's bedroom.
Silence.
"He must still be out," I heard him say.
I was wandering over to his hacker equipment when I saw the package on the floor. "Hey, Bling!" I called. "Did Logan receive a package?"
He came in the room and saw the box lying on the ground. He picked it up, glanced inside, then promptly dropped the box and backed away. "Damn," he whispered.
"What?" I asked. "What is it?"
"It's a Fryer," Bling answered. When he saw my confused look he shook his head. "A – a neural inhibitor, or something like that," he explained. "I don't know what they're officially called. But I've heard of them before. When they go off, they send a bolt of electricity through your body that knocks you out. Quiet and efficient."
"How did you know about them, if Logan didn't?" I asked.
Bling gave me a look. "As far as I know, only the military has these," he answered. "And I've been around some. I wasn't always into physical therapy. Logan probably never even suspected it."
Suddenly the apartment door opened. "Go into the other room," Bling commanded. I saw him crouch down and move behind a piece of furniture.
"Logan, it's me!"
Immediately Bling relaxed. I felt better too. It was Max.
She came into the room to see Bling stand upright. "What's going on?" she asked with confusion. Wordlessly, Bling tossed her the Fryer. She peered into the box. When she looked up, her brows were drawn together in fear. "Where is he?" she cried.
"We don't know," Bling answered.
Max abruptly turned to the door. "The fool," she was saying. "I knew he couldn't stay up here forever. Who knows what trouble he's gotten himself into."
"Where are you going?" Bling called.
"Jam Pony," Max answered. "I recognized the label on the Fryer. They delivered it to him. I've gotta check the log books."
"I'll come too," I called. "I might be able to help you out!"
"You've caused enough trouble as it is," Max snapped.
"Max," came Bling's cool, even tone. "He made a mistake, but from what Logan told me this morning, he really knows his stuff about Erhardt. It might be wise to take him along."
Max regarded me for a moment, then sighed. "Fine."
~~~~~
When we pulled up to Jam Pony on Max's motorcycle, I jumped off as quickly as I could. "Damn," I gasped, thankful to be on solid ground. "Was there any reason you were going sixty the whole way?"
"If you can't stand the speed, you should've stayed at the apartment."
"No way," I said. "You're the star of the show. If I don't stay with you, I'll hardly be in the episode."
"Now here's something you don't see every day," Normal said when he saw us walk in. "Could it be that you actually came in for work on your day off? I must say I'm impressed."
"Guess again," Max said, walking by.
Normal looked at her in surprise. "Rough day," I said by way of explanation as I jogged after her.
"Max," Original Cindy said, surprised. "What're you doing here?"
"I've gotta find a record," Max said. "Any of you make a delivery to Logan's apartment this morning?"
Original Cindy, Herbal, and Sketchy shook their heads no. "Damn," Max swore.
"So what's the dealio?" asked Original Cindy. "You look freaked."
"Logan's been kidnapped," Max said hurriedly. "Somebody here delivered a package that knocked him unconscious. I need to know who wanted it delivered."
Herbal retrieved the logbook and plopped it down on a table. "We've had a lot of deliveries the past few days," he said apologetically.
Max flipped to the day's date and frowned. "You weren't kidding," she said, running her finger down the deliveries. "Here it is," she said at last. "Aaron Johnson. 439 Littleton Avenue."
"That's way up on the other side of town," Original Cindy said. "He's playin' you."
"Check to see if this Johnson has any other entries," Herbal suggested.
Max flipped quickly through the pages. "He's got a few more," she said, shaking her head. "But nothing suspicious."
"Wait a minute," I said suddenly. "Did you say Aaron Johnson?" I pushed my way up to the table and peered at the logbook. "That's it," I said confidently. "439 Littleton Avenue. I remember that name from the teaser before the show started."
"What?" they all asked.
"Forget it," I said. "What I meant was, 439 Littleton is where Walter Erhardt lives. It's just a false name."
I could see the skepticism in their eyes. "What's Logan doing getting wrapped up with people like him?" Sketchy asked. "I don't know much about him, but I'd stay the hell away from Erhardt. Especially after what that video feed this morning said."
"He does this all the time," I said. "He's Eyes – mmf!"
Max had clapped a hand on my mouth, and she was glaring cold fire at me.
Original Cindy looked at each of us. "Uh uh," she said. "You better tell us what's going down."
"It's nothing," Max said, nonchalantly trying to smother me with her hand. "Thanks anyway, guys. See you tomorrow." She backed out of the building, still holding me.
When we were sufficient distance so that no one could see, she turned and cuffed me on the back of my head. "I don't what the hell's wrong with you, but you're really starting to piss me off. I'm trying to save Logan's life, and you're in there foolin' around!"
"It's not like he's going to die or anything," I said, rubbing where she hit me. "He'll be fine. He's a main character!"
Max gaped at me. "What kind of argument is that?" she demanded.
"Nothing," I said. "All I know is that Walter Erhardt lives at that address, and even if Logan's not there, maybe there'll be a clue where he is."
Max looked at me, and sighed heavily. "You'd better come in handy," she warned, "or I'm kicking your ass, then I'm kicking Logan's for letting you stay."
~~~~~
It didn't take us long to arrive at Littleton Avenue, probably because Max went a steady eighty-five the entire way. I unclasped my white-knuckled hands from around her waist, and took a few shaky steps on the ground until I could regain my bearings.
Max was already at the front gate by the time the world stopped moving haphazardly in front of me. "I don't see any lights on in the house," she said. "I don't think anyone's home."
"You can see the house from here?" I asked, surprised.
She looked at me.
"Oh, right, yeah. The, uh, the binocular vision thing." She continued giving me her look, and I became defensive. "Hey, I can't tell in this light! I'm used to having a great big close-up of your eyeball on TV so I can see the zoom effect, all right?"
She took a step back, and scanned the massive bricks wall that enclosed Walter Erhardt's estate. "I'll be right back," she said after a moment. In one massive leap she cleared the wall. Seconds later a rope appeared, dangling down. I pulled myself up, and dropped ungracefully down beside Max. "Wasn't sure you'd let me come," I commented.
"Neither was I," she answered.
We stole quietly across the yard. Thankfully, there were a few trees scattered around that provided some protection. Max held up her hand silently, commanding me to stop. She knelt down behind one of the trees and cautiously surveyed the house. "Keep an eye out for me," she whispered. "Try not to get us caught."
"You got it."
"Freeze!"
"Max, we're caught."
In a flash, Max whirled around and twisted the gun away from the guard standing over me. With one smooth motion, she hooked his arm in hers, planted her feet, and flipped him over her shoulder. He landed with a thud on the ground, and didn't move.
I shook my head. "It always seems to take only one punch before the guards are down."
She quickly stooped to remove his radio when it suddenly crackled to life. "So, you find anything over there?" came a static voice. "It's been a minute."
Max tossed me the radio. "Answer him."
"What?" I looked down. "What do I say?"
"Do you copy?" the radio crackled again. "Is everything all right?"
I held up the radio. "Uh, yeah, everything's all right. I'm heading on over to the far end of the yard. I think I see something."
"All right," came the reply.
I breathed a sigh of relief. I couldn't believe that worked. "So what's our plan?" I asked.
"Go in through the window," she answered without looking back. "It'll set of an alarm, so we'll only have a few minutes before the guards are on us."
"That's a good plan," I commented. "At least, in the context of the show it is. But maybe we can avoid a gratuitous fight scene."
This time, Max did look back. "What?" she asked.
I led her up to the front door. "I saw the code during the teaser," I explained.
"What is it?" Max asked.
"Uh…" I paused. "I don't remember."
"You don't remember?" Max demanded. "Then why the hell are we up here?"
"Well, not everyone is a fictional genetically engineered soldier who can remember phone numbers by their tone," I said defensively. "I'll get it." I tried 0 – 8 – 5 – 2.
Suddenly, an alarm went off. "Oops," I muttered. "You must only get one chance."
Max crouched down and quickly checked the yard. She looked like a cornered cat. "We're gonna have about thirty seconds before those guards down there spot us," she said.
"Don't worry," I said, trying random numbers. "I know the last number is seven, and I think there's an eight in it, and either a five or a three."
Max stared open-mouthed at me. "If we live through this, I swear…" she began fiercely.
"I know, I know. You'll kick my ass." I tried 0 – 3 – 2 – 8. A green light flashed on the keypad, and I could hear the door click. "Huh! Well, what do you know?"
Max had heard it too. "Why are just standing there!?" she cried.
"Well, on TV it usually takes until the very last second before a code is remembered," I explained. "You know. To up the suspense so that – ah!"
Max had grabbed my shoulder. She pushed the door open and hauled me inside. Then she quietly shut the door behind us, and reset the locks. "Let's hope they think it was an animal," she said.
I quickly pointed to the painting. "There's another keyboard behind the painting. It has the same code, and it'll open up a secret communications room, or something."
Max opened up the painting, typed in the code, and sure enough the wall slid open. I followed Max into the room, where she started shuffling through a filing cabinet full of papers.
I wandered over to the telephones. I remembered the red one being the most important, so I checked the answering machine. There was one message waiting. "Mr. Erhardt," it began. I recognized the voice as the one Walter had talked with on the phone during the teaser. "You have less than fourteen hours to find the officer that attacked you. Otherwise, the consequences won't be very pleasant. I look forward to your call."
"'Officer?'" I repeated questionably.
"He can't tell his boss that Eyes Only was responsible for the explosion," Max said thoughtfully. "Then if the boss wants to meet Eyes Only, Logan will tell him that Erhardt is stealing from him for his own profits." She turned to me. "And Erhardt knows it. So he lied to him about who sunk the ship, and he'll deal with Logan quietly, on his own." She slid into the chair and began typing at the computer. "Thank God for that."
"Why?"
"It means that nobody outside of Erhardt and maybe his guards know that Logan is Eyes Only, and he can't really tell anybody. Logan's identity is safe for now."
"So what are you doing?" I asked, leaning over her shoulder.
"I'm going to see if he's kept any records of other deliveries over the border," she said, typing. "There was nothing in the filing cabinet." Suddenly a password box came up. "Damn," she said quietly. "You know the password?"
"Not a clue," I answered. "And if the front alarm was any indication, we can't risk guessing."
Max sighed and flipped the computer off. "Then this whole trip was a waste of time," she said angrily. "And we still don't know where Logan is."
"We'd better get out of here then," I commented. "The guards are still looking for us."
"Thought you said we'd have plenty of time," she snapped.
"Well, by now the average viewer is getting tired of all this plot development, so they'll probably throw in a fight sequence or two," I explained. "Nobody really watches this for its thoughtful comment on human nature."
Max shook her head. "Whatever. Come on."
She decided against using the front door again, since there would still be some suspicious guards snooping around. She led me upstairs, and we went into the only bedroom that faced the rear of the house. She slid a window open. A tall tree grew nearby, and its closest branch was a distant ten feet from the window. Without pausing, Max crawled up into a crouching position on the windowsill, took a flying leap, and grabbed hold of a branch. Deftly, she pulled herself up until she was standing on the branch, braced herself, and offered me a hand. "Jump," she said.
I looked down to the ground, which seemed forty feet away, then up to her. "You must be out of your damned mind."
"Don't make me come back over there," she warned.
"Fine." I awkwardly clambering out onto the sill, and looked shakily up to where she was standing. "Promise you'll catch me?"
"If you don't jump in five seconds, I'll leave you here for the guards."
"I hope that's a yes." I took a deep breath, took another one, took another one, took—
"Now!"
I jumped.
She reached out to one of my gracefully flailing limbs and caught hold. I swung through the air and collided with the branch, muttering a word that would have raised the rating to TV-MA.
"Sorry," Max offered in a tone that suggested she was not at all sorry. She hauled me up to the branch, and then jumped out of the tree to the ground, waiting for me to climb down after her.
Spitting out pieces of bark, I blindly lowered myself onto a branch, when all of a sudden it snapped beneath my weight. I scratched desperately at the branch I'd been using to support myself, but it was now too high, and I could feel myself falling. I tried to grab any and all branches that I bounced off of on the way down, but even those more than twenty opportunities weren't enough, and I fell to the ground, jamming my ankle in the process.
"Aaaah!" I cried, grabbing my ankle and rolling on the ground.
"Shut up!" Max said sympathetically. "You're going to get us caught!" She tried to pick me up, but I waved her off.
"Go on without me," I said. "I'll only slow you down."
She gave me a look that almost seemed like admiration, and started for the wall.
"Where the hell do you think you're going!" I shouted. "Get back here and help me up!"
She turned. "But you said to go on!" she said angrily.
"I know what I said," I answered. "But that was just theatrics! Standard television drama. I damned sure didn't mean it!"
Max ran back over, and helped me up. She propped me against her body, and put my arm around her shoulder, but even as we started for the wall several guards appeared, with their weapons trained steadily on us.
"Freeze!" the foremost guard said. "Hands up!"
Max put her hands up, and I toppled over, bellowing in pain.
She smiled.