Psion Beta (Psion series #1)

by Gowans, Jacob

  Sammy led his three teammates to their side of the store where they set up their first flag. The store was so dark now that the flag could not be seen from a distance of more than a few meters. Sammy turned to his teammates and asked quietly, “Who’s guarding the base?”

  Honk whispered, “I’m on that.”

  “All right, just don’t get ambushed. And make sure you muffle your sneezes. Remember the last time you had sneezing fits? You sounded like a flock of peahens.”

  “A flock of what?” Honk asked.

  Sammy ignored his question. “Everyone else just play offense, got it?”

  “Don’t you think we should have some kind of a team strategy this time, Brains?” Chuckles muttered.

  “Hmm, yeah, let’s think.” Sammy tapped his chin in a mocking gesture. “Strategy . . . strategy . . . how about get more flags than the other team?”

  Chuckles blew a raspberry and muttered something that sounded like “one-man show.” A retort was on the tip of Sammy’s tongue when a shrill whistle sounded.

  “They’re coming,” Gunner said.

  “We’re gonna get slaughtered,” Chuckles said as he crept away.

  Sammy repressed the urge to throw his ball into the back of Chuckles’ head. Instead, he snuck off in the opposite direction, jamming the green-glowing tennis ball into the pocket of his sweatshirt. He stalked up the main row, looking for a blue light and listening for the sound of footsteps.

  He heard the double doors in the back of the store swing open and shut again.

  “Hey! Out of bounds,” Sammy called. “That’s a point for the other team.”

  As soon as he shouted, footsteps came toward him. He dashed into an aisle and hid on the floor under a low shelf. He waited there until the footsteps moved past him. More came, but this time he heard them in the aisle just ahead.

  Chuckles’s voice taunted in the same vicinity, “I see you.”

  Then Sammy heard something unexpected: the sound of compressed air being discharged from the standard-issue electroshock weapon only police were allowed to carry.

  Chuckles gasped, and Sammy heard his friend’s heavy body hit the floor hard.

  More footsteps. Footsteps all around!

  He knew what was going on: the pizzas.

  “Shocks!” he screamed. “The Shocks! RUN! Get out!”

  Two beams of light pierced the dark. Combined with Sammy’s adrenaline rush, the store now seemed much brighter. His ears picked up every noise as he ran down the aisle to find Feet, and hoping the Shocks wouldn’t find him first.

  Another voice rang out, this time an older man’s: “Attention children. You are all under arrest for theft and trespassing. Officers have surrounded the vicinity. You are ordered to give yourselves up.”

  Sammy snickered despite his situation. None of them would “give themselves up.” The weight of the pact the gang had made before escaping the Grinder was stronger than their fear of the Shocks. Even still, his desperation grew as he hurried into another aisle to find his friend. He turned the corner and ran straight into him. Sammy’s jaw smacked Feet’s forehead, and both friends hit the ground.

  Feet got up first and helped Sammy, asking in a whisper, “Do you know where anyone else is?”

  “No.”

  “Do the Shocks know where we are?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  They heard footsteps approaching quietly from behind. It was only Fro-yo and Gunner.

  “They got Honk and Watch,” Fro said.

  “And Chuckles,” Sammy added.

  Feet swore under his breath. “Get us out of here, Brains.”

  Sammy’s brain gathered and assembled the data like a machine. Six to twelve Shocks. All armed. Four of us––unarmed. Need cover, weapons. Two Shocks came in from back door. Front doors, side doors still being watched. Best chance … what’s our best chance?

  “We’re agreed that we’re not going down without a fight?” he asked in a whisper.

  All three gave him affirmative answers. His friends upheld the oath. That was what he wanted to hear. Sammy calculated more factors into consideration. The shopping carts are only six––no, seven meters away. Need to distract Shocks.

  He took out the ball in his pocket and threw it as far from the carts as he could. It bounced on the top of a shelf. “Over here,” a Shock said.

  Sammy heard them running to the noise. “Okay, quiet. Follow me.”

  Sammy led them to the front of the store and motioned for them to each grab a shopping cart. “Go,” he whispered to them. “Go and don’t stop.”

  The wheels of the cart squealed loudly on the floor as the four boys sprinted to the back of the store through the narrow rows. Sammy was slow next to Feet, but by no means a turtle. A bright light shined down their aisle, right into Sammy’s eyes.

  “Stop right there!” a voice ordered them ahead. But instead of obeying, they ran harder and tilted the front of the carts up to shield themselves.

  The Shocks fired at them, but the puffs of air were followed by the sound of metal bouncing off metal. Jolts ricocheted off the carts and electric blue sparks created tiny fireworks in all directions. The heat of the sparks on Sammy’s face made him giddy with fear and the insanity of the moment. The Shocks shouted again for them to stop, realizing too late that they could not intimidate the boys.

  Sammy and Feet rammed them, sending them sprawling out onto the dusty floor. Sammy picked up the shocker that clattered on the ground. Fro-yo and Gunner were first to reach the double doors in the back of the store and pushed through them with their carts. Feet continued pushing his cart while Sammy ran behind, holding the weapon ready to fire.

  “Give it to Gunner,” Feet said, reaching for the weapon.

  Sammy pulled it out of his friend’s reach and asked, “Why?”

  “He shoots better.”

  “No, he doesn’t.”

  They ran for the main exit in the rear of the store that loomed ahead. A Shock stepped out from behind a garbage compressor. His beam pointed square at Sammy’s chest. “Drop it! NOW!”

  Sammy threw himself behind the cover of Feet’s cart and fired at the Shock first. His hands trembled so badly that he missed all three shots. The Shock stood his ground and returned fire. Feet snatched the weapon from Sammy, let go of the cart, and fired off three more jolts.

  A shiny triangle formed by three metal darts hit the Shock in his neck. Just as the man reached up to pull the jolt out of his skin, it activated, dropping him to his knees in convulsions and finally rendering him unconscious.

  Feet cursed badly, then crossed himself and said, “I’ve just nailed a Shock. I’m so dead if we get caught.”

  Fro-yo and Gunner abandoned their carts while Feet picked up the second shocker and tossed it to Gunner. They burst through the back door into the cool night, still running.

  The back of the store opened into an alley with two exits. They went left. Halfway to the main street, they heard the door behind them slam open again. Sammy turned to see the other two Shocks coming out of the store, one yelling into his com as he ran, “Four juveniles, two black, two Caucasian, headed west through the alley onto Market Street. Armed and dangerous, shoot on sight.”

  Sammy released a long stream of curses and checked behind them again.

  “Where to now?” Fro-yo asked as he followed Sammy at a run.

  “Joubert Park.”

  “Regroup?” Feet said. “No, that’s nutty.”

  “There’s always the chance,” Sammy insisted between breaths.

  “There’s no chance,” Gunner said.

  “Look at us. We got out,” Sammy said finding it more and more difficult to speak while running. “How long does a jolt take a person out for, Gunner?”

  “Just a few minutes,” was the answer, “but I don’t think--”

  “Then we go,” Sammy decided. “We picked the park as a group.”

  The others stopped arguing, probably to save their breath. As they headed north
in the direction of the park, a black car with flashing lights turned onto the same road about a hundred meters behind them.

  “Do they see us?” Fro-yo asked.

  “Does it matter?” Sammy shot back. “Just run!”

  They crossed the length of another building and turned a corner, out of view of any Shocks or passing patrols. Sammy glanced back and spotted a car with flashing lights pulling to a stop in front of the alley they had just left.

  “Now what?” Fro-yo asked.

  “Still going to the park,” Sammy said.

  “C’mon, Brains,” said Gunner. “We got to go and not look back. I’m tired.”

  “Hey, who busted us out of the Grinder?” Sammy yelled. “Me. They didn’t find us because we were in the store, Gunner. They found us because you were stupid and ripped off those pizzas. You brought them to us. You did.”

  “This is different, Brains,” Fro-yo said. “We get caught now––after busting out once, we’re going away for a long time. When they realize who we are––”

  Sammy did not bother letting Fro-yo finish. He started running again. Someone cursed at him, but they all followed. Sammy led them under the shadows of buildings until they emerged three blocks east of the black car. He stopped behind a dumpster to make sure they would not be seen when they went into the open.

  “Is it clear?” he asked Fro-yo.

  “Brains,” Feet started to say, but Sammy ignored him. “Brains, this is bad trouble––they’ll get us.”

  “So what would you do?” Sammy asked, but Feet did not have time to answer. Fro-yo, whose head had been poking around the side of the dumpster, fell straight back into Feet. Sammy saw the jolt protruding from his friend’s thin black tee shirt.

  “You dirty mother––!” Gunner shouted, but his voice was cut off with a jolt to the right shoulder.

  Sammy and Feet ducked behind the dumpster, scattering three rats eating a rotted apple core. “They got a heat lock on us,” Sammy hissed. They had no chance of helping their friends now. “We need to shake it. This way.” They ran down another alley, leaving Gunner and Fro-yo. Dense walls were their best shot at getting rid of a heat lock besides running into a large crowd of people.

  Feet stopped abruptly and clutched his sides in pain. “I can’t keep running like this!” he exclaimed, gasping for air. “I don’t think we can get away.”

  “We keep going as long as we have to,” Sammy said, leaning against the brick wall.

  “But how long till they catch us?”

  “Never if we keep running.”

  “We can’t outrun them forever. They’re Shocks. We’re nothing! Sooner or later they’ll catch up to us. It’s just a matter of time.”

  Sammy shoved Feet against the wall and got in his face to snap him out of it. “Hey! We swore we’d never go back to the Grinder. I can’t go back there, Feet. Never.”

  “I don’t know what to do anymore,” Feet cried. His voice cracked. “I don’t want to run forever. I just want a life. I just want a freaking normal life!”

  Sammy had to say something. If not, Feet was going to lose it for good.

  He calmed himself first and tried to hitch a smile on his face. His mouth felt all wrong, and he wondered how nutty it made him look. “Let’s leave the city for good,” he suggested. “If we make it to another territory and turn ourselves in as runaways, maybe we could ask to be put in with fosters again. Maybe they’ll even keep us together.”

  The stupid, probably impossible suggestion worked. Feet now had some hope. Most of the wild-eyed fear left his eyes and he asked, “You really think so?”

  “Yeah,” Sammy lied. “It’s worth a shot, right?”

  “Where––where would you want to go?” Feet asked, his voice still shaky and tight.

  “I don’t know yet,” Sammy said as he turned to walk, “let’s think about it.”

  The longer they talked, the more Feet calmed; the panicky edge in his voice gradually disappeared. Occasionally, a vehicle passed. The cars made very little noise, and Sammy often did not hear them approach until too late. Each time one passed they hid behind trash bins or parked cars. It became easy for Sammy to think they had lost the Shocks for good.

  Even if he knew the idea was stupid.

  An unmarked armored truck painted all black turned onto the street, silently driving toward them. Sammy had a bad feeling about it the moment he saw it. If it was a Shockbox, more than a dozen Shocks would be inside it. Then red lights began to flash as it picked up speed.

  Sammy groaned, alerting Feet to the new danger. They sprinted forward to the next alleyway. Sammy could hardly see a thing. The voices and footsteps of Shocks were not far behind. As they ran farther into the network of alleys, the nauseating odor of garbage and decaying animals grew thicker. Sammy felt trapped. At any moment they might hit a dead end.

  And then what?

  Frantically, he led Feet through one blind turn after another, praying that each corner would not be the last. They came to a fork in the alley and Sammy went right, hoping it would take them out of the maze.

  The darkness prevented him from seeing more than a couple meters ahead, and all he could make out was the blood-red brick of an old building on one side and the metal siding of a warehouse on the other. Without warning, everything in front of him went completely black, and he heard a loud BANG.

  Pain shot through his skull as his head smacked into a thick metal door, sending Sammy tumbling backward. Bright spots like little bombs splashed his vision. When he looked up, hope abandoned him. The only routes left were through the metal door or past the approaching Shocks. He and Feet pulled, pushed, and pounded on the door. It was firmly locked.

  How can this happen? he asked himself.

  The Shocks were very close; Sammy turned to meet them. Rage boiled inside him as he saw their beams of lights draw closer. The irony of it all. They had chased so long and hard after him and his friends for stealing food, but where had the worthless Shocks been when his life had fallen apart?

  Where were you a year ago when my life was normal? When I was still good? It’s not fair! He wanted to scream all this at them, but he was too terrified.

  A reflection from the ground caught his eye. It was a pipe. Reason fled from him. He picked it up, brandishing it like a club. “Remember your promise,” he told Feet, who pulled the shocker out of the back of his pants. “Don’t let them get us.”

  The Shocks were close enough now that Sammy heard their labored breathing. Sammy hated them. He hated the world. He hated his friends for allowing themselves to get caught. And he felt real fear now. The lights on their guns bounced off the brick wall before the Shocks even turned the corner into the narrow space where Feet and Sammy were trapped.

  Six Shocks stopped only two meters away from where the boys held their ground; they formed a line to barricade the only escape route. Three shockers were pointed at each boy. One of men in the middle yelled, “Put down the weapons and get on the ground. Put down your weapons!”

  Feet immediately got down onto the ground, but Sammy had no intention of obeying. How could Feet give up so easily? The boiling rage inside reached a critical point. He held the pipe higher in the air and defiantly screamed, “NO!”

  Three of them fired at Sammy. The instant he heard the sound, he closed his eyes and threw his hands out to brace himself. A powerful surge flowed from his head, down his neck, and through his arms. It spread out of his hands and fingertips. He waited for what felt like an eternity for one of the jolts to hit him––to send him down to the ground in uncontrollable spasms.

  It never came.

  2. Elite

  “Brains, what––How did you do that?” Feet got up and brushed the dirt from his pants.

  Sammy opened his eyes. All six Shocks lay on the ground. Their scattered guns cast points of light in all directions.

  He looked at his hands and back to the motionless Shocks. “What happened?”

  Feet did not answer. He was too b
usy crawling around, examining the pavement. When Feet found what he wanted, he stood up and exclaimed, “Here, look at this!”

  He opened his hand. By the light of one of the Shocks’ guns, Sammy saw a three-pronged jolt reflecting the dim light off its metal tips.

  “So?”

  “So? You stopped all the jolts in midair! They flew back. I saw it. How’d you do that?”

  “I didn’t do anything,” Sammy insisted.

  Two of the Shocks stirred and another moaned incoherently.

  “We’ve got to go,” Sammy said.

  He and Feet grabbed two shockers apiece and ran. After retracing their path, they took another route and left the alleyway. Sammy pushed them as fast as he felt they could go, and when they were too tired to run, they stopped to rest only as long as they dared. During these rests, Feet tried to explain to Sammy what he had seen.

  “You stuck out your hands.” Feet said, mimicking the motion. “All six of those guys just flew back like they were hit by an invisible . . . something. Honestly, it––it was like magic.”

  “That’s not possible,” Sammy said, but the more he thought about it, the more confused he became. “No, there has to be some kind of logical explanation.” It sounded like something his father would have said.

  Sammy wanted to talk more, but necessity forced them to keep moving. When he became too exhausted to run, they slowed to a walk on a quiet street in the wealthier suburbs. He feared his legs would cramp up, and he wouldn’t be able to move at all. He had been fighting stitches in his sides for over an hour.

  But where are we going to go? he kept asking himself. With no money and no one to help them, they had no options. Feet might have been thinking the same thing, because he asked, “Should we try one of these houses? I did houses a little before the Grinder.”

  All the residences in the neighborhood had perfect lawns and big windows. Probably expensive alarm systems, too. They reminded Sammy of his old home. He decided they should just keep going. They traveled to the edge of the city, always hugging the roadside, staying near trees and bushes so that when a car passed, they could duck out of sight.