by Suzanne Weyn
The kind, motherly gesture brought tears of gratitude to Kayla’s eyes, but she was distracted by Mava’s wrist, which bore a red, twisted scar. Mava smiled sadly. “Toz and I also removed our tattoos. I understand what your mother must have been feeling,” she explained with the same lovely calmness that characterized her whole speech pattern. “However, we used acid. That was awful enough, let me tell you. Oh, so painful. But we know too many people who’ve done terrible damage with fire.”
“Yeah, they had TMB,” Toz said, shouting like a person who is hard of hearing.
“Do you mean TMP, Tattoo Mania Psychosis?” Kayla recalled.
“No! I mean TMB — Too Much Bull. That’s what this Global-1 business is and it doesn’t take smart people a long time to figure it out.”
“Acid seems to be the best way to go,” Mava went on.
“How’s your hip doing?” Toz asked Mava.
She patted his shoulder lovingly. “Barely a twinge today.” She turned to Kayla. “I fell and broke my hip a while back. We didn’t dare go to the hospital, because once you’re over eighty — I was eighty-one last January — you don’t come out of the hospital.”
“What do you mean?” Kayla asked. “I know of people in their eighties who have operations and then come out. My friend Amber’s grandmother was eighty-five last year and had her appendix removed and was fine afterward.”
“Aren’t you Amber?” Mava asked.
“Oh, sorry. I lied. I’m Kayla.”
“Oh, I see. Well, things have changed since last year. No one talks about it, but old people know that doctors now slip you something and say you died in your sleep. The insurance companies encourage them to do it because nursing homes have become too expensive. Our daughter is a doctor — she told us all about it.”
“That’s horrible,” Kayla said.
“We certainly thought so. Our Sarah won’t do it and it’s made things very difficult for her. She’s relocated to Toronto where the bar code isn’t the law. Sarah set my hip before she left and it’s doing quite well.”
“Why were the Globalofficers after you?” Kayla asked.
“We didn’t pay for our breakfast. Can’t. No money left in our e-cards. We’re heading up to Toronto to be near Sarah. They still use cash there, you know. Where are you headed?”
“I want to join a resistance group in the Adirondack Mountains.”
“That’s right on our way. We can drop you. But do you mind if we stop at Sarah’s apartment first? She left in a hurry and we said we’d pick things up for her. Do you mind?”
“No, not at all. Thank you.” Kayla curled up in the small backseat and let the car rock her. She imagined being a baby in a cradle, rocked by a loving hand. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and …
They are inside the city now. Glass-and-steel buildings tower, making her feel like a mouse running along a baseboard. It’s intimidating. It’s probably meant to be. The wide boulevards swarm with people. She reaches out and takes the hand of the young man beside her. “Scared?” he asks, only she hears his voice in her mind. She nods. He rubs her shoulders. “Don’t be. This will work.”
A bump in the road rocked her from her vision.
Sitting up, she saw they were approaching a toll. “Belt up and get as low as you can,” Toz told them.
“Why?” Kayla asked. “What’s —”
Toz speeded up, driving the car to its 140-mile-per-hour limit. Kayla was knocked down again into her seat. It was probably best to stay down as Toz directed, so she covered her head and drew herself tightly into a ball.
“Woo-hoo!” Toz shouted triumphantly as he blasted through the bar blocking his way at the tollbooth. Kayla saw shards of wood fly up in all directions. An alarm whooped, but Toz never let up on the gas pedal. A Globalofficers siren started up.
“Stay down!” Toz shouted to them. “I’ve got a good lead and the turnoff’s in two miles.”
Toz drove at full speed all the way to the exit he wanted. He raced straight through a clump of trees, slammed on the brakes, and shut the engine. The Globalofficers raced on, going straight up the Superlink.
Toz chuckled gleefully.
“Fine driving, dear,” Mava praised him. “How are you feeling?”
“Perfectly fine,” he said gruffly. “Stop worrying. I’ve never been better.”
“Toz had a heart attack last year,” Mava told Kayla. “Thank God it was last year and not this year.”
“My heart is in perfect condition now,” Toz growled as he started the car and they pulled out of the trees, back onto the exit ramp. “These little hybrids were good cars in their day. I don’t know why they stopped making them.”
Mava sighed. “The big oil companies didn’t want people to stop using gas, I suppose.”
They drove to Albany, straight to the modern apartment building where Sarah had lived. When Mava shut the lobby door behind them, Kayla felt safe for the first time in days.
Inside, Toz unlocked the door of an apartment. “She certainly did leave quickly,” Mava commented as she stepped into the living room. A lamp still lit the beige, modern furniture. A cup of coffee stood half full on the sleek glass coffee table.
“Make yourself at home,” Mava told her. “The shower is just down the hall.”
In the bathroom, it felt good to peel off her filthy clothing. Kayla stepped into the warm flowing stream of the shower and never before had she felt so blessed to be washed clean, to have her shoulders thumped by water. She pressed her body into the tile wall and let the water run down her aching body.
Sarah had left all her toiletries behind. When Kayla was done, she stepped out and let the clean, thick towels mop the wetness from her body. She slipped into the white terrycloth robe that hung on the back of the door and used Sarah’s deodorant and moisture creams. She used a bath oil to wipe away the last of the fake tattoo. Only a few days ago she’d taken these things for granted. Now they seemed like lovely and rare luxuries.
As she stepped out of the bathroom, Mava came toward her with scissors. “How would you feel about a haircut?” she asked. “It would make you less identifiable. I’m pretty good at it.”
Kayla fingered her wet hair. “Okay,” she agreed.
She sat at a vanity in Sarah’s elegant bedroom. Mava cut, catching the hair on a towel at her feet. Kayla, worried that an eighty-one-year-old woman might have a shaky grip on the scissors, wore a scowl of concern throughout the cut.
When the blow-dry was done, Kayla examined the short, wispy result. Her hazel eyes appeared to be nearly twice their size.
“Do you like it?” Mava asked. “I think it looks wonderful on you. It will be easy to take care of.”
“I look like a different person,” Kayla said slowly.
Mava squeezed her shoulder. “Maybe that’s as it should be.” She opened a closet packed with clothing, and tossed outfits onto the bed. “I’m sure Sarah has already taken the things she really wants. She recently gained some weight. These things might not even fit her anymore. You can have whatever clothing you like.”
Sarah’s clothing included the latest neon colors, but somehow Kayla wasn’t in the mood for them anymore. Instead, she put on a pair of black stretch pants that fit her perfectly. A long-sleeved silver shirt trimmed in bright pink was her next choice. Sarah’s black hiking boots were exactly her size.
“Who would have guessed that you’re such a beautiful girl?” Mava commented when Kayla was dressed.
Kayla smiled at her. “Thank you. Does Sarah have a computer I could use?”
May 23, 2025
From: DrSglobalnet.planet
To: (AT)cybercafe1700globalnet.planet
This message is for Amber Thorn — I don’t know if she’s there right now. If someone gets it, could you keep it for her? Maybe you could leave it behind the counter or something.
Amber, you might have heard some news about me. It is not true and I am fine. I miss you. I hope you are well and that Aunt Miserable isn’t dri
ving you too nuts.
Love, K.
From: DrSglobalnet.planet
To: MFTaylorglobalnet.planet
Everything you read about me is a lie. I am okay but I won’t be back. I hope that somehow, someday we meet again. I am grateful for your friendship. Don’t trust Zekeal. He and Nedra are spies for Tattoo Generation. Please pass this info on to Allyson and August.
Your friend, K.
From: MFTaylorsrglobalnet.planet
To: DrSglobalnet.planet
Thank God our son isn’t with you. At least he’s not in as much trouble as that. He disappeared the same night you set your house on fire. We are sick with worry. If you have any idea where he is, please contact us.
Kayla shut the computer down quickly. It hadn’t occurred to her at first that she could be tracked through Sarah’s e-mail address. It was possible, though, especially if Mfumbe’s parents went to the Globalofficers.
Where had he gone … and why?
Kayla walked to the living room where Toz and Mava sat watching the news. Nedra’s face filled the screen. She wore a red jumpsuit — the same kind the Tattoo Gen group on the West Coast favored. Below her image, a subtitle read Nedra Harris representing Tattoo Generation.
With the same strong, determined attitude she’d worn when she was against the bar code, Nedra now spoke about the need for all seventeen-year-olds to get tattooed. “This is the mandate of our new millennium, which will be governed by the best, the brightest, and the most fit. Let each young person of our generation step forward and show their pride by wearing the bar code — a tattoo that marks them as part of the Global-1 team. Sadly, there are still some young people who are mistrustful of Global-1’s plan for world unity. I say to these misdirected dissidents — throw off this blind mistrust and take your place in the bold new world.”
Toz clicked her off and turned to Kayla. “Now aren’t you glad you didn’t get that damned tattoo? Wouldn’t you hate to be like her?”
“I know her,” Kayla revealed. “She used to be part of our Decode group.”
Toz nodded, leaning back in his easy chair. “You become the monster you fear the most, so the monster won’t overtake you.”
“That doesn’t always happen,” Mava disagreed. “Not everyone is like that. Kayla hasn’t become a monster. Doesn’t she look pretty?”
“Damn cute,” Toz agreed gruffly. “No one will recognize her, which is the point of the redesign, I suppose.”
“Yes, dear,” Mava agreed. “Now rest. Remember your heart.”
“My heart is big and strong and belongs to you, darling,” Toz told her with a playful wink.
Each morning a paper thumped against the front door and Kayla scoured it for news about herself.
The first day her story was on page three. The robot cashier at the Superlink Eatery had been programmed to identify a photographic list of wanted criminals and had automatically contacted Globalofficers saying Kayla Reed had been there. They traced the credit card from John James back to a man who had died at the Tri-County Hospital during an operation on May 21.
At least he didn’t miss his e-card or his suit, Kayla thought, glad to be rid of the nagging guilt she felt for taking the man’s things.
By the sixth day, her story was just a paragraph on page twelve. Kayla put the paper down and looked in the mirror. Her scrapes had all healed. Her new haircut made her look very different. Maybe everyone would just forget about her.
By Monday of the next week, Mava and Toz had moved most of Sarah’s belongings into bags and stuffed them into their car trunk. Even though they were reluctant to leave, they knew their safe haven couldn’t last forever. As they ate breakfast that morning, someone knocked on the door.
Kayla hurried to Sarah’s bedroom and hid in the closet. After a few minutes, Mava spoke to her through the door. “It was just the landlord. He wanted to know why Sarah hadn’t paid her rent.” Nearly faint with relief, Kayla came back out.
“We told him she’d be back tonight,” Mava went on. “So we really should leave as soon as possible.”
Kayla sat on the bed to let her heartbeat return to normal. Mava sat beside her and took her hand. “Toz and I have been talking,” she began. “We think you should come to Toronto with us. Although we have no money now, Sarah will help us get set up.”
“Will we be able to get across the border without bar codes?” Kayla asked.
“We’re not sure. If we have trouble, though, we’ll find a way to call Sarah. Her boyfriend has a bar code. He can come across and we’ll drive back in his car.” Mava smiled sadly. “Toz won’t like leaving his hybrid behind, but in the end he might have to.”
“I would love to come with you, thank you,” Kayla said, hugging Mava warmly. This was like a miracle, a new start.
Kayla was tempted to check the e-mail one last time, hoping to hear from Amber, but decided against it. It might bring the Globalofficers right to her.
Back on the Superlink, they went for miles before coming to another tollbooth. Toz knew an exit that brought him around to the other side of the toll. “Out of gas,” he reported. “We can switch to electric energy for a while but we’ll have to fuel up eventually.”
They’d gone a number of miles and now a tollbooth lay ahead of them again. “Get ready for another breakthrough,” Toz warned them excitedly. “Battle stations.”
Kayla squeezed down into the backseat and covered her head. Toz threw the car into full speed.
Abruptly, the car weaved wildly out of the lane. Car horns blared and Kayla sat up. Toz had let go of the wheel and clutched his chest.
“Toz!” Mava screamed.
Toz grabbed the wheel and hit the electric speed pedal. Then he slammed forward onto the steering wheel.
A cement wall that bordered the toll lane loomed in front of them. Mava grabbed the steering wheel and pulled it, riding the car along the wall on two wheels for seconds, and then glass shattered as the car smashed onto its side and slid.
Kayla flew forward, hitting the windshield. From somewhere a siren howled.
“Toz,” Mava sobbed, leaning on her husband. “Toz, wake up.”
Toz lay slumped over, not responding. Mava’s head was bleeding and Kayla cringed at the unnatural angle at which the old woman’s arm hung.
Strobing red lights passed over them as Globalofficers cars screeched to the scene of the accident.
“Kayla,” Mava cried. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, I think so,” Kayla replied.
“Then get out of here now. Run. You can get away.”
“I can’t leave you!”
“You can’t help us. As soon as they take us to the hospital, we’re dead. Toz is dead now.” Mava’s blue eyes held Kayla in their gaze. “Quickly. Go.”
Two Globalofficers were rapidly approaching the car. Kayla knew she couldn’t do anything for Toz and Mava now. The car door above her had sprung open when they hit the wall. Pulling herself up, she climbed out.
Jumping down into a crouch, she kept low and ran along the side of the wall.
“Stop!” someone shouted. “You. By the wall. Stop now!”
Kayla ducked into the woods at the end of the wall and began to run. A gunshot blasted just beside her ear.
Dropping to the ground, Kayla scrambled on her belly through the leaves and dirt. Another shot fired. It scalped a chunk of bark from a tree just ahead of her.
She ran for cover.
It seemed to her that she lay still a long time. Her head throbbed and blood ran down her forehead, dripping into her eyes. She blinked hard, afraid to move and wipe it away. Finally, though, the two Globalofficers left.
Getting up, she used her hand to whisk the blood from her aching forehead. Then, running in short sprints, she moved deeper into the woods, stopping occasionally to clutch her pounding head.
Heading up along the Superlink was too dangerous now. She’d have to get as deep into the trees as she could.
The last dying rays of suns
et guided Kayla among the trees as she silently thanked Sarah for the hiking boots and the fleecy hooded sweater. She pulled up the hood against a cold wind that chilled her neck. Before, her long hair had always protected it. Now she felt exposed and vulnerable as the cool air ruffled her new cut. Her neck tingled with more than cold. It had snapped back hard when she’d been thrown forward in the accident.
Her stomach growled angrily. There had been nothing to eat since breakfast and she longed for food. Sitting on a flat boulder, she considered her predicament. Here in the middle of the woods, she wasn’t likely to come across any food. What did she know about berries and edible plants? Exactly nothing.
A trickling sound told her that there was water somewhere nearby. Her best bet was to search for it, so she followed the sound to a very narrow stream. Kneeling, she drank, then washed her dirty, bloodstained face. For lack of a better plan, she began to follow the stream. At least she would never be too far from water that way.
The light was almost completely gone, but she continued to follow the sound of the stream a long way into the woods. She cried out as she stumbled in the dark over something hard. Lying there, she made no move to get up. Every part of her ached. The car accident had made her sore all over. The back of her neck now tingled badly.
Somewhere, someone was cooking something that smelled delicious. Sitting up, she peered in all directions. Then she saw a light, very small, about a mile off in the distance.
With the last of her strength, she made her way toward it. The cooking smell kept growing stronger, encouraging her on.
Finally, the source of the smell appeared in the darkness. A cabin with a lit sign in front, some kind of restaurant or bar. Before long she heard the loud sound of animated voices — people conversing, laughing. A warm, inviting place.
Her spirits lifting, she hurried toward the cabin. She had no way to pay for food, but she’d think of something. She looked through a window at people inside, eating, drinking, and talking to one another. A large flat-screen hung over the bar, and many people gazed up at it, watching a basketball game.
