“Did you catch the rogue, choirboy?” Dirk, the scruffy Youth Patroller shouts. He and the rest of Cheetah Squad pull up in a convertible hover lift. “Well?” he persists. “Did you get him?”
“I, uh.”
“We got the kid,” Jeremin butts in.
Dirk nods like he’s impressed and looks at me with an air of acceptance. “Was it insane, or what?”
“It was what it was,” Jeremin interjects. I get the feeling Jeremin doesn’t want me to talk about it. And maybe that’s a good thing, I don’t know if I could.
Jeremin then turns to his troops. “All right, faggots, fall in!” they all scramble to get into formation. “We’ve got new orders!” he cries out. “After the show tonight, we’re no longer on Concert Duty, we’ll be back on Patrol.”
“Thank God,” A YP calls out. “Hallelujah!”
“Shut the hell up!” Jeremin yells. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We still have a job to do people. We’re on ‘standby’. So get something to eat, get some rest, but be at the Monitor Room at 1700 hours.”
“Yes sir!” We all respond. Everyone breaks rank, but I’m not sure what to do or where to go. I don’t know what ‘standby’ is. I want to ask, but I don’t want to sound like an idiot, so I say nothing. I’ll just wait till 1700 hours and then I’ll follow everyone.
I start to walk over to the shuttles where the performers and dancers hang out, but I stop myself. “What the hell am I doing?” I quickly turn around and head in the opposite direction. God, I hope no one saw me. I find the Cheetah Squad Shuttles, but most of the guys are outside, hanging out, talking shit; comparing stories about who shot who. I don’t feel like joining in so I go inside one of the shuttles. It’s pretty bland in here. There are no frills, no bright colors, no lounge, just gray walls and bunks; lots of empty bunks with no sheets, or blankets, just mattresses and pillows. I take off my helmet, climb in one of bunks and collapse. What was my fault?
CHAPTER 13
“Where the hell are you?”
I wake up, I hear Jeremin’s voice. It’s coming from my helmet lying next to me. I look at the time. Damn it, it’s 5 o’clock. I must have fallen asleep.
I step out of the shuttle, but I don’t see any Youth Patrollers, no one from Cheetah Squad is around. All I see are Youth Nation Crewmembers running around, taking care of last minute details before the concert. Where’s the Monitor Room? What’s ‘standby?’
Senator Willenger happens to be walking by with Ashley Autumn. Ashley looks high. Her L-Chip is glowing all kinds of colors. She must be tweaked pretty hard.
“Patroller Sparks!” the Senator bellows, smiling from ear to ear. “Why aren’t you on standby?”
“Uh, yeah. I was just about to go.”
“Well the Monitor Room is over there.” He points to the arena.
“Oh yeah, I was um… I’m late.” I start to go but Willenger stops me.
“How’s your first day going?”
“Fine, I guess.”
“Jeremin told me you did pretty good out there.”
“Jeremin said that?”
“Yeah, said you killed your first RF today. Not bad. Not bad at all.”
“Thank you, Senator. By the way, how is Val?” I ask innocently. “Does she know I’m not singing tonight?”
He kind a chuckles. “She’s knows and she’s okay with it.”
Ashley bursts out in an uncontrollable cackle. “Oh yeah,” she screeches sarcastically. “She’s totally okay with it!” She then proceeds to howl with laughter. She has no idea just how ridiculous she sounds.
The Senator shoots her a look, but her L-Chip tweak has made her so clueless, she can’t pick up on how livid Willenger is right now. He grinds his teeth and does his best to contain himself. He looks at me to get my reaction, but I avoid eye contact all together. I’m not getting in the middle of this. He plays it off with a smile and a laugh. He puts his arm around Ashley and walks away, but I think he’d rather put her in a chokehold.
So, Val isn’t cool with this new situation. I knew she wouldn’t be. I know how she gets when she doesn’t get her way. But she’ll be fine; yeah, she’ll be fine.
I race over to the arena not really knowing where I’m going. A hover lift loaded up with additional lights and scaffolding almost runs me over. “Get out of the way!” the young crew guy yells as he swerves around me.
Then a YP squad comes marching by. They practically knock me down.
“Why are you standing around, Patroller?” the squad leader barks at me. Does he think I’m in his squad?
“C’mon, what are you waiting for, get your ass moving.”
I take a quick assessment and notice a lot of the other YP’s are heading in the same direction. I figure it’s a good bet I should follow. We run to the arena and make our way under the structure. We pass the green room. I want to peek in, but I fight off the urge. We end up under the bleachers inside a special room. At first glance, I’d say there are three Youth Patrol squads in here, probably 75 soldiers in all. But they’re not at attention or anywhere close to battle readiness. They’re all pretty much doing nothing. I look around the place, hoping to find Jeremin. I push my way through the troops and then I see something that’s quite impressive. Huge hologram monitors are stacked high, floating in front of us. Several rows of Youth Nation Researchers are seated at workstations, surveying the different screens. This has got to be the ‘Monitor Room’. Each screen is a different angle on the auditorium. It’s a perfect view of all the kids in the audience. I notice on one of the screens, a brown haired boy reaching inside his jacket. A researcher seated in front of me notices the same thing. He moves his hand over his workstation, controlling a camera drone. It flies over so he can get a better look. The brown haired boy pulls out a hologram pet and lets it loose. It gallops away and all the kids laugh. The researcher lets out a sigh of relief and so do I.
The lights go down in the auditorium, and the concert begins. The performers do their thing and do a great job, including my replacement. He was awesome. The night comes to a close, and like always, Val ends up inviting the kids forward for confession time. Predictably, many come forward. The camera drones fly into place to monitor the kids pouring their hearts out. And like usual, most of the kid’s confessions are about nothing. But there are a few who tell the Youth Nation counselors that their parents attend secret churches or they know someone who does. That’s when the researchers quickly call for an L-Chip search warrant to open up a case. I’m not sure why they need to do all that; we have all the evidence we need. We have the kids’ confession.
“Why are we waiting, why don’t we just go get their parents?” I shout impulsively.
A couple researchers turn around, they look at me like I’m completely out of my mind.
“It’s all part of the protocol, Evan,” someone says to me.
Who said that? I look to my right and standing next to me is Jeremin. Has he been there the whole time? Well, at least I know I’m in the right place.
“You’ve got to be patient with these things,” he continues to explain. “We can’t go and arrest someone just because a kid hates their parents. There are laws in place that we have to follow. Now listen up, Evan, I’m going to tell you this once. I tell all the rookies this, so pay attention. When a kid confesses something that seems like a good lead, the researchers you see here or the researchers back at Santa Verde have to build a case. They download all the conversations that the kid’s L-Chip might have recorded. Everything that was said or picked up by the L-Chip is stored on the Government Database. Even if the kid’s sleeping, the L-Chip microphone can still record. Parents tend to forget about this. They think, ‘hey our kid’s asleep, we can talk freely about God.’ That’s when we get our best stuff. You just never know what the L-Chip might pick up. Then the computer program searches the downloaded file for buzzwords like “church”, “God”, “Jesus”, stuff like that. Once the researchers get the list, they check the context. They
have to determine if there was an actual religious-infraction taking place. Just because someone says God or Jesus, doesn’t mean they’re in the act of unlawful worship. I mean how many times have you said ‘Oh God’ or ‘Jesus Christ’ because you were pissed, probably a million times, right? It takes a long time to build a case. We have to have undeniable proof before we go after the parents. I know it’s all bullshit, but we gotta do it. We have to make it look like we’re doing everything by the book.”
“So we’re not going after anyone tonight?”
“Probably not, that’s why it’s called ‘standby.’ But things pop up from time to time.”
Suddenly. “My mother is a smuggler,” a voice can be heard. We all look up at the monitor and see a young teenage boy confessing to Taryn. He’s a black kid, around 14, skinny, angry. “There I said it, can I join Youth Nation now?” The kid’s bold declaration somewhat startles everyone. “She lives in one of those old disgusting gas stations outside the city. My dad knows where it is. He can show you,”
“You don’t live with your mom?” Taryn responds.
“No, not since my dad saw her kissing Jack.”
“Jack? Who’s Jack?” Taryn asks.
“He’s another smuggler; it doesn’t matter. Just go get her.”
Taryn looks confused. She sends a mind-text that all of us can see on the hologram monitor, “Help?” the text reads with a question mark.
A Youth Nation Researcher sitting at a workstation monitoring the conversation seems confused too. She looks back at the YP’s standing behind her and spots Jeremin; she motions for him to come over.
“What do I do, Commander?” she asks.
Jeremin walks up to her; leans over and tells her something. She listens intently and nods once or twice. She sends a mind-text back to Taryn and Taryn quickly responds, “What kind of things does your mom and Jack smuggle?”
“Fuck, I don’t know, stuff,” the kid replies irritably.
“What kind of stuff?” Taryn asks.
“What difference does it make?”
“Guns?” Taryn continues to question the kid.
“Yeah, sometimes.”
“And you say your dad can take us to the gas station?”
“Yeah, we’ll I’m pretty sure he can. If he can’t Youth Patrol can get it out of him, right?”
“How come you can’t show us the gas station?” Taryn asks after being prompted by the researcher.”
“Because I don’t know where it is!” the kid yells.
“Why not?”
“Because I’ve never been there!”
“You’ve never been?”
“No, they never showed me.”
“Who’s they?”
“The group, goddamn it! Seriously, why do I have to explain?”
“Just tell us what you know.”
“Well, there’s not much to say,” the kid complains. “We were all living in a bombed out church basement. I got pissed at my mom, so I got an L-Chip. When I came home and they saw me, they all freaked. They told me I had to leave, and when I didn’t, they did. They all left, every last one of them, even my mom.”
Jeremin mimics like he’s slashing his jugular. “Cut this one loose. Send the case to Santa Verde; we don’t have time for this shit. Tell Taryn to let him go, he just wants to get back at his mom.”
“Hold on!” someone says. “Don’t cut him loose just yet.”
We look around, trying to determine who said that.
“It’s a good lead. It’s worth pursuing,” the voice continues.
This time we’re able to pinpoint the source.
“What’s up, Perry?” Jeremin smirks. “You mind explaining?”
“Could I see the boy’s file?”
The researcher looks up at Jeremin to get permission. Jeremin nods. She taps the slate colored console. “You should see it now,” she says.
Stats of the boy flash up on the main screen.
Robert Graham age 14; School: Clinton Jr. High. Father: Sean Graham age 51. Mother: Unknown. Extended Family: Unknown. Address: Housing unit 56879 3A.
Perry stands there, staring up at screen, his mouth is slightly open, his eyes are darting back and forth continually reading the useless information.
“Well?” Jeremin asks impatiently.
“Find out his mom’s name,” Perry orders. “If it’s Sharon, it’s a good lead.”
The researcher sends the question to Taryn. Taryn goes ahead and asks the boy.
“Why?” the kid answers.
“We need to know.” Taryn returns. “We’re not doing anything until you tell us your mom’s name.”
“Sharon. My mom’s name is Sharon. Happy now?”
Jeremin turns to Perry, “Care to elaborate?”
“The boy’s my cousin,” the medic answers. “Sharon is my aunt, she’s my father’s sister.
“Holy shit,” Jeremin responds. “When was the last time you saw the kid?”
“Bobby was four, I think, so ten years.”
“That’s a long time ago,” Jeremin points out. “Are you sure it’s him?”
Perry glares at Jeremin with a cold stare.
“All right, all right, I trust you, medic.” Jeremin turns to the researcher. “Have the kid meet us at the depot.”
The researcher springs into action. She quickly makes a call. I look up at the monitor, and the Youth Patrollers that are assigned to the stage, go and retrieve the boy.
Jeremin and the rest of Cheetah Squad start to leave. I watch them all hurry off. They’re all gone, every last one of them. Shit. I’m without my squad again. Then, Luna comes rushing back. “You’re with us choirboy, remember?”
“Oh. Oh yeah. Duh,” I laugh nervously.
She grabs me, pulling me along.
CHAPTER 14
We make our way over to the depot, but the kid isn’t there yet. I notice Perry standing alone by himself, away from everyone. That’s nothing unusual, since that’s the way he acts most of the time, but Jeremin seems uneasy by Perry’s aloofness. The Commander walks up to him. “Are you going to be okay?”
“Yeah, why?” Perry answers defensively.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Jeremin sneers. “We’re about to bust up your family.”
“Why would that matter, sir?”
“Well, most Youth Nationers might feel a little weird about it.
“Am I like most Youth Nationers?”
“No, no you’re not, Perry,” Jeremin laughs. “No you are not.”
“Are you through, or do you have anything else you want to hash out?”
“Goddamn it, Perry! Enough of this bullshit! You’re off the raid tonight!”
“No I’m not,” Perry answers coolly. “No way.”
“I’m your commanding officer; you have to do what I say!”
“Are you questioning my state of mind or my loyalty?” Perry fires back. “Are you thinking I’ll get all emotional when I see my aunt? You think I’m going to sympathize with people that have similar DNA to mine? I chose to be an orphan, Commander. I chose it just like you, just like we all did. I’ve been a Youth Nationer since I was twelve, a Youth Patroller since I was 17 and a medic since I was 18. I’m now 22 and I’ve given everything I’ve got to the cause. So stop implying that I won’t be able to handle seeing my family. I’m ready.”
“Ready?” Jeremin scoffs. “I don’t give a shit if you’re ready. You’re going back to Willenger and I don’t care what he says.” Jeremin turns to walk away.
“Commander!” Perry blurts out. “You’ve got to let me come!”
“Give me one good reason.”
Perry takes a deep breath. “My father,” he mutters. “My father might be at that gas station.”
Jeremin perks up. “All right, now we’re getting somewhere. What makes you think your father is still alive?”
Perry takes a step back and gathers himself. “I just do,” the medic answers.” I just do. It was ten years ago when I turned my parents in. M
y mother was spiritually delusional and my father was an irrational preacher. They were fanatics through and through. After Youth Patrol came and took them away, they were found guilty and were sent off to an Alaskan prison… so I thought. Then two, maybe three years ago I received a note made of paper, sitting on my doorstep. It was from my father. How it got there, I have no idea. Where he got the paper, is a mystery. The note said he escaped right after he was arrested. He never made it to Alaska. He’s been alive this whole time, this whole goddamn time!” Perry pauses, takes a deep breath again and does his best to stay calm.
“What else was in the note?” Jeremin urges.
“He wanted me to meet up with him. I had a time and place, but I tore up the note and went on with my life.”
Jeremin smirks. “And you don’t think it would be a good idea to sit this one out?”
“He left my mom to rot in some prison, so much for Christian love. He’s a hypocrite, pure and simple. If he’s at that gas station, I’m personally sticking him on the next prisoner transport back to the tundra. He deserves to be sent away, and I want to be there when it happens.”
Jeremin stares at the medic without saying a word. I think he’s trying to get a sense of Perry’s mental health; trying to figure out if Perry is in the right state of mind.
Then, we hear the lanky teenage kid come walking up, chatting away with the YP’s that are escorting him. He’s a cocky S.O.B.
“So when do I become a Youth Patroller?” he asks obnoxiously. “Don’t you think I should?” The kid’s taller than I expected, almost as tall as me. “So who’s in charge around here,” he demands. “I want a uniform, goddamn it.”
Perry quickly flips down his visor. I assume it’s because he doesn’t want the kid to recognize him.
“C’mon, I want a suit, now!” the kid persists.
Jeremin steps in front of the teenager, stopping him from going any further. “What the hell?” the kid responds like some entitled brat. “What do you think you’re doing? Get out of my way.”
“Got a question for you kid,” Jeremin casually mentions. “Your mom’s brother, you ever see him?”
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