Street Freaks

by Terry Brooks

  “How are you going to keep this a secret? Maybe I can set your fingers, but one look at your hand will tell the Shoe all he needs to know!”

  “You let me worry about that. Just don’t go all wussy on me.” T.J. looks around, walks over to the medical cabinet, and starts pulling things out. “I’ll get you what you need.”

  In minutes he gathers up tape, gauze, splints, and antiseptic ointments. He places them all on the counter, then turns around and braces himself. “Get over here.”

  Ash does. There is nowhere to sit, so they are going to have to do this standing. T.J. holds out his damaged hand. “Start with the middle finger. The second knuckle is out of joint. Take hold of my wrist with one hand and the top part of my finger with the other and pull firmly. Don’t hesitate and don’t stop halfway. Once you start, follow through. Don’t be a fish. You’re done with all that. You’re one of us now. You’re a certified Street Freak. Act like it.”

  Ash takes hold of T.J.’s wrist with his left hand. He can feel the tendons tighten beneath his grip. He fastens his right hand around the top part of T.J.’s damaged finger, hesitates, and looks at him.

  “Don’t waste time thinking about this,” T.J. hisses at him. “Just go ahead and . . . ughnnn!”

  Ash pulls hard, resetting the disjointed bones in one quick movement. “How does that feel?” he asks.

  “You enjoyed doing that, didn’t you?” T.J. exhales sharply. “Okay. Now do the third finger. Same thing. Twist it slightly to your left so it straightens out. Go on.”

  Ash does so, having a better feel now for what is needed, knowing how much strength to apply and how to do it quickly. In a matter of seconds, it is done. T.J. grimaces in pain as the adjustment is made. He is breathing hard, his jaw set, his brow furrowed.

  Only the little finger remains. Ash examines it and shakes his head. “I think this is more than a dislocation.”

  “You think?” T.J. sneers. “It’s at least a fracture. Pop it back into place and then splint it.”

  “Wouldn’t hurt to splint them all for a few days.” Ash takes a closer look at the damaged hand. “How did this happen, anyway?”

  T.J. shrugs. “One of those security bozos might have hit me with a leather sap, or maybe I hit Ponce on his metal head. Or maybe Holly did it; she’s got enough metal in her. I didn’t see. I was buried in the pile. And forget about the splint. I’ve changed my mind. I can’t drive if my finger is splinted.”

  “You’re going to be in a lot of pain if you don’t.”

  “Pain helps me focus. Now do it. Last one. Get it over with.”

  Ash straightens the crooked little finger. It seems to take forever. This adjustment seems to hurt worse than the others. T.J. makes almost no sound, but tears leak from his eyes.

  When they are done, they go into the dining room and sit across the table from each other. “My genetic mix allows me to heal faster than most people,” T.J. says, a touch of confidence creeping back into his voice. “I’ve broken fingers before. Dislocated my shoulder several times. No problem. One advantage of being a steroid-enhanced test-tube baby.”

  Ash nods at the damaged hand. “You’re going to have to find a way to hide that from the others. It’ll be obvious what’s happened if they get a look.”

  “I’ll wear racing gloves. The perfect camouflage. Flexible, ribbed with wire. I’ll just say I’m getting into a racing mind-set. No one will think it’s any stranger than anything else I do.”

  Ash isn’t sure about that, but there is no point in arguing. T.J. has made up his mind, and he is not likely to change it. This race means a lot to him. In a way, it defines him. Winning this race is what he is known for. Ash is smart enough to understand T.J. doesn’t want to lose that.

  “I’m worn down,” T.J. says after a moment. “But I’m wide awake too. Wired up. Want a shot?”

  Ash nods agreeably, not understanding exactly what the other is talking about. T.J. gets up and goes over to a cabinet, opens the door, and brings out a bottle of amber liquid that he pours into two glasses. He carries the glasses back to the table and pushes one across to Ash. Then he lifts his own and holds it out in a sort of challenging gesture.

  “To quick healing and fast cars. May they both be my friends forever.”

  Ash duplicates the gesture, and they clink glasses. Then they both down the liquid in one gulp, T.J. showing the way. As he swallows the contents of his glass, Ash thinks the top of his head is going to come off. He gasps for air and coughs hard. His eyes water, and he can feel his face flush bright red.

  “What is that?”

  T.J. is in stitches. “Whiskey. You never had it before? It’s good for quick recuperation from injuries. At least, I like to think so. You don’t need it like I do, but I thought you might want to share the experience.”

  Ash takes several deep breaths. “You could have warned me.”

  “What? And spoil the surprise?”

  They sit companionably while T.J. talks about the upcoming race—which will take place in three days—postulating scenarios, sizing up the competition, and touting the attributes of Starfire. He dismisses his competition. He brushes off Ponce’s threats. He is cheerful and demonstrative, the pain and discomfort of his injury lost in his enthusiasm. He refills both his glass and Ash’s, downs the contents of his in one gulp, and gestures for Ash to do the same. Ash does, and this time the whiskey goes down easier, although he is beginning to feel fuzzy-headed.

  “Can I ask you something?” he says after a few minutes.

  T.J. smirks. “You can ask me anything. Whether I answer or not is another matter.”

  “That girl? Penny-Bird? The one who’s with the Razor Boys? What’s her relationship to Holly?”

  “What makes you think there is one?”

  “I just do. How Holly went off on Ponce? I don’t think it was because of any of us. Not so much, anyway. I think it was because he hit Penny-Bird. So what does this girl mean to her?”

  T.J. sighs. “She never said? I thought she would. She’s been pretty open with you. But maybe the subject is too painful for her.” He leans forward. “When Holly came to Street Freaks, right after Jenny and me, she had this huge chip on her shoulder. She kept to herself, hardly ever spoke. She was new to being who she was, still getting used to the idea that she wasn’t just flesh and blood anymore, that now she was made of metal and synthetics too. She was angry with everyone, but especially her parents. I think probably that was the worst of it.

  “Anyway, for months she pretty much kept to herself. She did what was asked of her, didn’t complain, but stayed apart. She’d talk to you, but not with any real interest in what you had to say. It was weird for all of us. We did everything we could to try to bring her out of her depression, to make her happy. Nothing worked. The Shoe said to let her be. She’ll come around. Give her time. Give her space. Let her heal in her own way.”

  He sips at his whiskey. He is on his fourth glass now, and he has slowed his drinking to small tastes. If the injury to his hand still pains him, he doesn’t show it.

  “Then, all at once, things changed. She met Penny-Bird. Found her on the streets, brought her home, and took care of her. They were like sisters. Jenny and me, we thought the Shoe would throw Penny-Bird out the door. She wasn’t one of us; she was more like Holly’s pet. She wasn’t tweaked, wasn’t a ’tweener, wasn’t anything but a stray. He left her alone, though. Said she was good for Holly, was helping her recover from the anger and depression. I got it. The Shoe needed Holly; she was the physical backbone of our group. She was so strong, so . . . well, so indestructible. He valued that.”

  Ash remembers something Holly said to Penny-Bird that first day he came into the Zone and she rescued him from the Razor Boys. She said, “Why don’t you ditch these losers?” He didn’t understand the connection at the time, but he does now. “So how did Penny-Bird end up with Ponce?”

  “She and Holly had some sort of falling out. I never found out the details; Holly refuses to t
alk about it. Typical Holly. One day Penny-Bird was with her; the next she was gone. Just like that. We all asked Holly what happened, but she just shook her head and told us to shut up. She was angry about it, but she was sad too. She was heartbroken.”

  T.J. pauses. “That last part. I’ve always been pretty sure it had something to do with how Holly sees herself. Think about it. She’s a patchwork combination of organic and synthetic materials slapped together by doctors who claimed they were trying to save her life when all they were really doing was putting an end to it. She doesn’t think there’s much of anything left of what she was. She’s more metal and plastic than flesh and blood. Half of her can’t feel anything. There’s no nerve endings, no blood vessels, no normal response functions to pain or pleasure. The woman part of her was destroyed by the surgery. Her childhood was over after the operations. In her mind, she was left a thing that no one could ever love or would even want. She can’t have children of her own, can’t make love, can’t be normal in the ways most people can. She’s immensely strong, and as a consequence, she can’t ever forget that she can snap another person in two without half trying. She’s a ’tweener, even in her own mind. She hates it. She hates what she’s become. She doesn’t think she’s worth being cared about. I think all that got between her and Penny-Bird at some point, and that’s why they had a falling out.”

  “So how did Penny end up with the Razor Boys? Why did Ponce even bother to take her in?”

  T.J. drains the last of his whiskey and slams the glass down rather harder then necessary. “To hurt Holly. Ponce hates her. Hates that she’s so much stronger than he is. Hates that she doesn’t feel attracted to him. Ponce is like that. More insecure than Holly. Penny-Bird knows that. She was always impetuous, always trying to assert her independence. That’s what she did here. She bolted from Holly straight for Ponce and persuaded him to take her in and make her his pet. Trying to get back at Holly that way.”

  Ash can see it clearly enough. Holly thinking she deserves what happened to her, that she has brought it on herself. This is her punishment for driving Penny-Bird away. This is her penance. She accepts it as something she must learn to live with. This is how the rest of her life will go. Thinking it will never be different for someone like her.

  “Yet she couldn’t stand to see Ponce hit her,” he says quietly.

  T.J. shrugs, gets to his feet. “Course not. She loves Penny-Bird. Always will.” He yawns and stretches his arms above his head. “I’ve had it. We can talk about this later. I’m going to bed.”

  He weaves his way out of the room, looking more than slightly bedraggled, his movements leaden and slow. Ash sits where he is and watches until the doorway is empty, and then remains sitting, staring at what’s left of his whiskey. He doesn’t want it, but he drinks it anyway. He has just finished when Jenny Cruz walks in wearing a bathrobe over her filter-ribbed sheath.

  “Why are you still up, Ash?” she asks, taking note of the glass and the bottle on the counter. “Are you drinking?”

  “Just a little,” he says. “T.J. and I were talking about Holly. I asked him about her relationship with Penny-Bird. He was explaining it to me. Telling me how after they split up, the Razor Boys took Penny-Bird in to hurt Holly.”

  “As if T.J. would know anything about it,” Jenny mutters, sitting down next to him. “Besides, it was more than that. He tell you about what else she does for them?”

  Ash stared. “I guess not.”

  “Remember Ponce saying T.J. was worried about being beat by a girl? That girl would be Penny-Bird. She drives for Lonnergon’s. She’ll be facing him in the Sprint. And she’s good. Maybe as good as T.J.”

  He thinks about it a moment. “But she can’t be more than, what—fifteen or sixteen?”

  Jenny shrugs. “Age doesn’t mean a whole lot down here. All that matters is how good you are at something.” She gives him a long look. “How are you holding up, anyway? You’ve had a lot to deal with.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “That so? You think you might get used to being one of us? A Street Freak?”

  He smiles. “I like it here. Even with all the excitement.”

  “It’s good that you do. Your old life is gone.”

  “I know.”

  “This is probably where you’re going to have to stay. Maybe for a long time. Maybe forever.”

  He doesn’t say anything for a moment, staring at her. “Where is this leading?” he asks finally.

  She gives him a smile. “I’m going to tell you a few things I’ve known all along but have kept to myself. I would have said something before, but there were good reasons not to. You have to accept this without an explanation because I’m not giving you one. Part of it has to do with my not being entirely sure about you. Part of it has to do with a promise I made. But you need to know a little bit.”

  He doesn’t know what is coming, but he can tell it isn’t good. Still, she wouldn’t be confiding in him if it weren’t important.

  She fingers the ports at the back of her neck as if to scratch an itch. “First of all, I knew your father. I know I said I didn’t, but at the time I felt the lie was necessary. I knew him pretty well, as a matter of fact. Well enough that he confided some things to me, things he was keeping from you.”

  She pauses, glances past him to the open door, and then rises and walks over to close it. When she comes back, she sits where she was before but pushes her chair backward, as if to distance herself from what is coming.

  “What I’m going to tell you, the others don’t know. Your father sent you here for a reason, Ash. He thought this was where you would be safest. He told you he believed he was in danger because of his work at BioGen, and I think he was right. He was involved in high-level security experiments he told me were so controversial that if they were made public, it would have ruined the company and brought the U.T. Government down on their heads. But that wasn’t what he was really afraid of. He was also doing some things BioGen didn’t know about. I think someone at the company found out. I think that’s what got him killed.”

  Ash stares. “I don’t understand. What was he doing?”

  “BioGen was using kids in experiments to learn how to remake or regrow damaged body parts. They would take them off the streets and out of homes where they weren’t wanted and dissect them. All of us, the kids here at Street Freaks and lots more, were part of those experiments. Most of their efforts enjoyed some measure of success. We were among those considered failures, remakes that for one reason or another the company decided to terminate. Your father rescued us and brought us here. The Shoe took us in. He found a place for us. I think something about this threatened BioGen’s work and that’s why he was killed.”

  “The Shoe got all of you from my father?”

  “I was the first.”

  Ash shakes his head. “So my father knew BioGen was experimenting on kids? Letting them die if they didn’t like the results? Helping to make it happen?”

  Jenny makes a face. “He wasn’t exactly like that. I don’t think he was involved personally, only that he knew about it. I also know

  he was afraid. We talked about it. He said anything he did to change things would put not only him in danger but also you. I think he was warned. He was trying to do what little he could to balance the scales. He made a bargain with the Shoe; he was allowed to bring those of us he thought could be useful to Street Freaks. He brought us here to find a home, and the Shoe gave us one. Some he took elsewhere, probably out of the city. Same arrangement as with us, I would guess. Placed them where they were needed and wanted. With the Shoe, we had to agree to work for him in exchange for a home. It was an easy bargain to make.”

  “So my father soothed his conscience by saving a handful out of how many? Dozens? Hundreds?” Ash is stunned. “How could he do that? How could he think that was enough?”

  “Don’t be so quick to judge.” Her voice is calm and measured. “You don’t know what sort of pressure he was under. You don
’t know the circumstances. Your father was a good man. He didn’t like what was happening. He hated these experiments. He wanted them to stop. But he couldn’t find a way. He knew he would probably only get one chance, and if he tried and failed, maybe no one else would ever try again. And even if he exposed it, what if no one was upset enough to do anything? We’re castoffs, Ash. Damaged goods. Disposables. No one would miss us. Most probably don’t even know we exist. We have no real value. It isn’t like it’s a sure thing that there would be a cry of outrage over what happens to a bunch of ’tweeners.”

  She shrugs. “Besides, on the surface of things, it could be argued that what the scientists at BioGen are doing is admirable. Think about it. They’re trying to find ways to heal damaged kids so they can be put back into society and lead useful lives. It’s hard to find fault with the concept. Where everything falls apart is that they’re disposing of those who don’t work out. These are kids, and they’re killing them.”

  “Why are you telling me this, Jenny?” he asks. “You could have kept it a secret from me.”

  “Like your father did?” She shakes her head. “I should have told you sooner. But I wanted to be sure about you, and I thought there was time for that. Turns out, there wasn’t. Achilles Pod never raided us before your father was killed and you showed up. We had virtual immunity with that writ of exemption. Now, suddenly, we’re targets. Something is going on that none of us understands, and so far I haven’t been able to find out what it is. Your father knew, but he didn’t say. The Shoe says he doesn’t know either, but I wonder. He doesn’t tell me everything. He has his secrets, and he will do what needs doing to save his own skin.”

  Ash hesitates. “Maybe we should be doing the same thing. Maybe we should get out of here.”

  “And go where? We don’t even know which way to run. We have to figure out what’s happening. I’ll keep at it on the web. Maybe something will turn up. But in the meantime we have to hunker down for a bit.”