Youth Patrol

by Andrew Lueders

  “Yeah I did,” Abby says unapologetically. “We tried Brodie’s plan, and now we’re trying mine.” She opens up her knapsack and goes rummaging through it. She’s looking for something, but what could it be. She pulls out a black hat that’s looks like a beret. She bangs it on her thigh to freshen it up. She then pulls out a pair of sunglasses and hands both items to Val. “Put these on quickly, Miss Star, and don’t let anyone get a good look at you.” She then turns to me and bites her lip. “And you. What are we going to do with you, Evan?” Suddenly, she has an idea. She quickly pulls off her white turtleneck sweater, still stained with Carlos’s blood. She ties it around my head, making it appear I have a head wound. “Leave it like that,” she says. “Make sure it covers up your face a little, I don’t want them recognizing you either.” She’s now wearing only her bra. She looks at Brodie. “Uh, you mind.”

  Brodie takes off his leather jacket and hands it over to her. She slips it on.

  “Are you ready, Brodie?” she asks him.

  “Yes I am.”

  “Good, now play your part.”

  The military aircraft flies overhead and lands right near us. A side hatch opens up and five or six soldiers sloppily dressed come walking out. A disheveled looking man, dressed in a wrinkled stained covered uniform, follows suit. By the look of his stripes on his shoulder, he’s the ranking officer.

  “Well, fuck me,” the guy says in a thick southern drawl, chomping away at something in his mouth. “Goddamn, if it ain’t the Beauty and the Bruiser.”

  “Hey Warner.” Brodie says, giving the man a lazy salute. “What’s up?”

  “Holy shit, Brodie. When Krog sent me the coordinates, I thought who the fuck would be out here. I should’ve guessed it was you.”

  “Do you have any room for us, or what?” Brodie asks jokingly.

  “For you and Abby, of course. But your cargo…” he says, gazing in the direction of Val and myself. “You know that’s gonna cost you?”

  “Yeah we know,” Brodie says as he yawns.

  “Alright then, as long as you know,” the soldier smiles as he looks over at Abby. “Does she know?”

  “Nothing’s changed, Warner, she knows the terms.”

  “Well then, climb aboard!” the man spits out brown liquid from his mouth that splatters all over the dusty ground. It’s disgusting. He wipes his chin with his sleeve. “How many in your cargo, Brodie?” he asks.

  “Just four.”

  He eyes us one by one, but his glances stop on Val. “Whoa, who’s that?”

  “It’s no one.”

  “She looks familiar. Have I seen her on the news before? Is she wanted? Who is she?”

  “All of my clients are wanted, Warner. You should know that.”

  “Oh Brusier, you’re too much,” the soldier laughs, slapping Brodie on his back. He then turns to his troops, “Okay, let’s load ‘em up!”

  They surround us and cuff us and push us toward the military aircraft. Did Brodie and Abby just sell us out?

  “Where are we going?” I cry out.

  “Just get in.” Brodie says, gritting his teeth. “Just get in!”

  PART 5

  THE SALT FLATS

  CHAPTER 46

  Candy sobs as she rests her head on her husband’s shoulder, “Our baby is gone; our sweet little baby is gone.”

  Charlie isn’t paying any attention to her. He’s in serious pain. The wound where the shrapnel got him is bleeding again. A medic did cauterize his injury when we first boarded the military aircraft, but shit; I could have done a better job. I guess not every medic is like Perry.

  Valerie, who’s seated next to me, has her head bowed low with her hands folded in her lap. Her wrists, like the rest of us, are still in handcuffs. Her eyes are closed and her lips move, but there’s no sound. She’s praying.

  Up near the cockpit, just behind the disheveled soldier, who happens to be the pilot, sit Brodie and Abby. They’re sitting there, looking pretty, almost like royalty. They sit on plush padded white chairs while we sit back here on these hard benches next to these thick-necked soldiers. Why is this happening? Why are Brodie and Abby up there, and we’re back here? And where are we going? I’m really starting to believe we’ve been tricked. Nothing makes any sense.

  “It’s just like old times, isn’t it?” the disheveled soldier says. “You, Abby and Colonel Krog. I can’t believe you’re coming back to Camp Utah.”

  “Neither can I, Warner. Neither can I,” Brodie says sedately.

  “Ohh,” Val moans as she looks upward in disbelief.

  “Val, are you okay?” I ask, keeping my voice low.

  “I just remembered where I heard that name,” she whispers.

  “What name?”

  “Colonel Krog.”

  “Krog? You know who he is?”

  “He runs Camp Utah,” she says regretfully.

  “Isn’t that a prison camp?”

  “Yeah, it’s thee prison camp. It’s where you go before they send you off to Alaska.”

  “Wait,” I cry out. “You don’t think we’re–oh no!” I throw my head back in despair, banging it against the wall behind me.

  Val starts to pray again.

  A few minutes pass, then our descent begins. I careen my neck to look out a portal hole above me. I can see it, Camp Utah. There are thousands of people sectioned off, crammed together, inside various enclosures. It all seems so gray. I know that’s not the actual color of the camp but that’s how it feels flying over it. It’s filled with trash and filth. It’s disturbing. But off to the West, there’s a large luxury resort hotel. It’s one of those hover hotels, the kind you see on island resorts. There are two large swimming pools and various hot tubs on its roof. What kind of prison camp has a hover hotel?

  We circle around once more and I see an enormous stretch of land that goes on for miles and miles. It’s weirdly flat, and completely white, it’s an amazing sight to behold. Then I see large grandstands overlooking the pale expanse. What are grandstands doing out here? I wonder. What possible thing is there to watch?

  The aircraft lands, and the engines power down.

  “Welcome to Camp Utah,” the pilot announces.

  A soldier grabs me by my collar and forces me to get up. He shoves me towards the door. Valerie is treated the same, but Candy is quick to stand before anyone can touch her. Charlie on the other hand, can’t get to his feet; he collapses to the floor, writhing in pain. Candy screams.

  “Uh, Captain,” some guy says lethargically. “This dude ain’t gettin’ up, he’s bleeding.”

  “Bleeding?” the disheveled soldier grumbles. “Ah shit, get him over to the butcher shop, pronto.”

  “No way!” Abby yells. “You’re not going to send him to the prison hospital. I want Krog’s medic to check him out.”

  “You want what?”

  “Just do it!”

  “All right, all right. For you Miss Jones, I’ll do it.” He points to a couple soldiers to pick up Charlie. “Hurry, will you,” the pilot adds. “I hate cleaning up blood, it’s disgusting.” He then spits out more brown liquid from his mouth, but it doesn’t land anywhere near the cup he was aiming for.

  The doors of the aircraft open and the cold air comes gushing in. They whisk Charlie away as his wife reaches out for him with her cuffed hands, “I love you Chuck; I love you.”

  We’re corralled onto the tarmac as soldiers bark orders at us. I don’t know what they want me to do; I can barely hear them over the howling wind blowing off the flat white plain. “That way!” I finally hear one them say.

  The sun is now beginning to dip, the evening draws near. And we march on through the camp flanked by these undisciplined looking soldiers. They constantly joke about this and about that, they don’t seem all that concerned about Val and me. I could totally make a run for it, and they probably wouldn’t even care. But then again, where would I go, I’m in the middle of nowhere. Brodie and Abby seem at ease. They walk, unencumbered, no cuffs
, no nothing. They chat away with a few of the troops like they’re old friends.

  As we get further away from the aircraft and head on through the camp, the army barracks that are scattered about, block out the wind, making it calmer and quieter.

  “I can’t believe I’m back here,” Val says to herself.

  “Back? When were you ever here?” I ask her.

  “It’s been awhile. Willenger used to bring us girls here to watch the Salt Flat Races.”

  “Salt Flat Races? What are the Salt Flat Races?”

  “You don’t want to know,” she says coldly.

  “Yeah I do. C’mon, Val. Tell me.”

  “It happens out there,” she says, looking towards the grandstands.

  “On the white sand?”

  “Yeah, out there, but that’s not sand, it’s salt.”

  “Salt? How did salt get out there?”

  “How the fuck should I know.”

  We turn a corner and there in front of us, stands a gray drab two-story office building. A few dried up shrubs line the walkway that leads to the bland looking structure. I’m assuming this must be the headquarters of the prison camp.

  “Stay here,” a soldier tells us as he hurries up the short porch and into the building.

  As we wait, Abby turns to Brodie, “I’ll talk to Krog, okay. I’ll negotiate the terms.”

  “Whatever,” Brodie replies despondently. “Do whatever you want.”

  “Look Brodie, you know if I don’t do it this way, Val and the others will die.”

  The office doors swing open and a strange ominous man steps out. “Brodie!” he shouts out with genuine excitement. “You’re back!” the man’s elated, and he’s also very inebriated. He has on a military uniform, but his sleeves have been torn off. Tattoos fill every inch on his arms. He doesn’t look much like a military man, more like a rock star. He’s tall, lean with broad shoulders. He has fair skin and long flowing blond hair. He looks to be in his early twenties, but there’s no way he could be that young. You have to have a ton of experience to run a place like this. He must have tweaked his L-Chip hard to keep himself looking so young.

  “I don’t know if I should hug you or kill you,” the man says, stumbling down the steps, laughing his ass off. He grabs Brodie by the shoulders and looks at him proudly.

  “Colonel Krog,” Abby butts in. “It’s so nice to see you,”

  “Oh shut up!” he answers, flicking his hand as if he’s shooing a fly away. “I don’t want to talk to you, Miss Jones. I don’t talk to trash.” He then looks back at Brodie and smiles. “Is it really you? You were like my son the government wouldn’t let me have. I loved you Brodie, but you broke my heart, you left me. You left me and took her with you,” he says, glaring back at Abby. “How could you do that to me, Brodie. How could you choose her over me?”

  “I had to be my own man.”

  “Oh, Jesus,” he grovels, exaggerating his gestures. “So, so dramatic. You left me for the money, that’s all there is to it. You wanted power and glory.”

  “And you don’t?” Brodie jests.

  Krog laughs. “Oh you haven’t changed at all have you. But why have you come back, Brodie? What do you need?”

  Brodie looks at Abby. He knows Abby can’t say anything to Krog, she’s being punished for some reason, so Brodie nods to let her know, he’s going to go along with her plan, the plan he didn’t want to do in the first place.

  “I need your help,” he says, turning back to Krog.

  “My help?” Krog responds. “You must be in serious trouble. You usually just bribe my soldiers to get through. Don’t think I don’t know about your little smuggling operation. I know how you entice my troops with twinkies and porno magazines. They let you pass without recourse. But I don’t blame them. I mean how could anyone resist a chocolate Ho-Ho and good old fashion porno mag? But junk food and naked pictures isn’t going to work on me. You’re going to have to give me something… something with a bit more kick.” The Colonel ogles Abby and grins.

  “Is that it?” Brodie answers nonchalantly. “I guess this is going to be easier than I thought.”

  “We’ll see about that,” Krog chuckles. “What are your terms, my old friend?”

  “I have four people that need safe passage to Salt Lake City,” Brodie answers.

  “Four? And what do I get in return?” Krog says as he continues to leer at Abby.

  “I think you know,” Brodie responds indifferently.

  “I think I do, but no deal.”

  “What?” Abby interrupts. “You said if I came back for one night you’d give me anything I asked for.”

  “Did I say that?”

  “You did,” Abby insists.

  He starts to chuckle again as he looks over at Val and then at me. “Is that an Arab?” Krog asks.

  “What?” Abby answers.

  “Your cargo, is that an Arab?”

  “I don’t know, maybe. Does it matter?”

  “Actually it does, Abby, it matters a lot. You see, we get so few Arabs these days, and so many people have been asking for them.”

  “He’s not here for the races if that’s what you’re getting at!” Abby yells.

  “Is he Muslim? If he is, I’d make a lot of money, I’d split it with you, Abby.”

  “He’s not going to be in the Salt Flat Races, period. You have one night with me, that’s it.”

  “Make it two weeks and you have a deal.”

  “Two weeks?” Brodie blurts out, rushing at the Colonel. “No fuckin’ way!” The soldiers standing guard stop Brodie from charging.

  Krog can’t help but laugh. “Oh, do you have feelings for her?” he mocks, safely tucked behind his troops. “This won’t be as easy as you think… my old friend.”

  “How about we decide this like men!” Brodie shouts. “Just you and me, Krog, right here, right now!”

  Krog just continues to laugh.

  “Let me go, Krog!” Brodie yells out, struggling to free himself.

  Abby steps in and places her hands on Brodie’s chest. “I got this babe,” she says softly. “I got this.” She turns to the Colonel, “It’s one night, and one night only.”

  Krog looks at her and smiles. “Have I told you how all the politicians complain when they come to watch the races now? They tell me, they miss my Nubian whore. You left a huge void in my business, Miss Abigail Jones; I lose a lot of money because you’re not here. I’ve tried other girls and boys, but no one is as good as you. What should I do, Miss Jones? Tell me, Abby. What should I do?” He then looks over at Val. “Who can I get to replace you?”

  Abby looks uncomfortable.

  “What about her,” Krog points at Val. “She looks pretty.”

  “Don’t even think about it, Krog?”

  “She could be a very fine replacement,” he chuckles disturbingly

  “She’s off limits.”

  “Off limits you say? Are you forgetting who I am?”

  “All right, Krog! Two nights, you get two nights with me.”

  “Two nights with Abby Jones? Hm. She must be very important to you. Who is she?”

  “She just needs safe passage, that’s all. Do we have a deal?”

  “But she’s so young, I could sell her to Willenger. He’d love someone like her.”

  “Three nights, three nights and no more questions!”

  Krog smirks. “Okay, Miss Jones, we have a deal.” He turns to his soldiers. “Uncuff them, and take Brodie and his guests to the hover hotel. Give them my personal suite and when their injured friend recovers, take them across the Salt Flats to Utah and release them, they’ll be free to go.”

  Krog reaches for Abby’s hand, but before he grabs it, Brodie steps forward. “Don’t do it Krog!” he pleads. “Please don’t take her.”

  Krog looks at Brodie and then at Abby and then back at Brodie once again. “I warned you about her.”

  “Don’t do it. Please I beg you.”

  “What could you offer me
that’s better than her?” Krog asks.

  Brodie swallows hard, but he says nothing.

  “I thought so,” Krog replies as he’s about to turn around.

  “I can’t come back!” Brodie cries out. “I can’t come back, Colonel.”

  “I know that,” Krog answers sympathetically. “But if you did, I’d let her go. In fact, I’d let your whole party go. I’d let a hundred prisoners go. All you have to do is work for me… for one more day.”

  “I can’t,” Brodie whispers.

  “So you have nothing to offer me, so stop wasting my time.” Krog takes Abby’s hand. “Let’s go my darling,” he says as she goes willingly with him up the steps. When they get to the front doors, Abby sneaks a look back before going inside, but Brodie turns his head, he can’t look at her. The doors close shut.

  “Oh my God!” Candy cries out. “Did she just… Oh my God. She’s going to have sexual intercourse with that man?”

  CHAPTER 47

  The soldiers surround us, pushing us in the direction of the hover hotel, but Brodie doesn’t move, he stays right where he is, looking at the front door of the headquarters. The soldiers don’t bother him; they just let him be. But Val, Candy and myself are taken directly to a pathway that leads to the hotel. Surprisingly, the pathway is quite nice. It’s rather peaceful. It’s laid with bricks and lined with lush greenery and beautiful flowers. It meanders and twists lazily around mighty trees and exotic plants. But as we walk along, the serenity of the path begins to change dramatically. The lavish green vegetation is replaced with enclosures of prisoners trapped behind laser barriers. Some of the captives in these bins watch us intently as we walk by; others just stare off into space. Then I see one small group of prisoners sitting on their knees together in a circle, praying in the mud. They’re filthy and dirty. But one of the men amongst them stands up. “How long Lord, how long!” he cries out as he looks up into the sky. “How long will you keep us in despair?”

  As we continue up the trail, there’s a makeshift sign that reads: ‘Please don’t feed the animals.’ It’s someone’s idea of a joke, a very cruel joke.

  I then notice, hovering above, about 10 feet off the ground, large clear cylinders floating in the sky. “What are those?” I ask.