Paradigm

by Helen Stringer

  “Three?”

  “Yep. One of them’s still alive, but I don’t think you can really call it living. He’s in the cages now, too. Just sits there, drooling.”

  Sam marveled yet again at Bast’s ability to use people as if they were her own personal property.

  “Have you seen the guy in the next room?”

  “No.”

  “Take a look. It’s her banker. The Bakersfield thing was his idea. She thinks he was playing both ends against the middle.”

  Colby strode across the room and opened the door. Sam turned away. He didn’t want to see it again.

  “Jesus!” whispered the soldier.

  There was a moment’s silence and then a single shot. Sam spun around and pointed his gun at the door as Colby emerged.

  “I couldn’t leave him like that. It’s not…okay, kid, calm down.”

  “Hand it over!”

  “You’re gonna have to trust me. I’m not giving you my sidearm.”

  “Trusting people hasn’t been working well for me recently.”

  “You trust the girl.”

  “That’s different.”

  Colby chuckled and shook his head.

  “Hormones are a bitch,” he said.

  “She has honor. Her people believed in it.”

  “Riiight. So, are we gonna do this, or what?”

  Sam looked at the soldier’s open face, then nodded, lowered the gun and shoved it in his pocket.

  “Yes,” he said. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter 32

  EVERYTHING SAM HAD LEARNED in his years alone told him this was a stupid move, but he couldn’t think of a better one. He had drawn the line at putting the shackles back on, though. If Colby turned out to be lying, Sam wanted at least the chance of fighting back. On the plus side, he didn’t need to do much acting—he was just as tense and nervous as he was trying to look.

  They marched along the corridor, unnoticed by the people around them. Sam was just another prisoner on his way to pay the price for whatever he had done to piss off the Commander.

  “Stop!” barked Colby when they reached the elevators.

  The doors slid open and several people walked out. Most were technicians who didn’t give them a second glance, but one was another soldier who grinned at Colby.

  “Hey, Sal!” he said. “What’s up? Who’s the kid?”

  “Just some jerk tried to steal that box the Commander’s so big on.”

  “No, shit! The one that crashed the party?”

  “That’s him.”

  “Huh. You are so dead, kid. Where you taking him?”

  “Cages.”

  “Figures.”

  “Yeah. Catch you later.”

  Colby gave Sam a shove into the elevator and hit the button. Sam relaxed as the doors closed and half-turned to speak to Colby, but the soldier gave him a sharp jab in the ribs with the barrel of his gun and looked up. Sam followed his gaze to a small camera in the upper left corner and kept his mouth shut.

  The elevator stopped two floors below the cells where Sam had been held last time and they emerged into a dark cavern of a room, punctuated by small stand-alone cages, each about eight feet from the next and each lit by a single greenish light.

  “Yikes,” whispered Sam. “What’s this for?”

  “Pre-interrogation holding,” said Colby. “You can relax, there’s no cameras down here.”

  “How come?”

  Colby shrugged.

  “People don’t usually leave. It’s the last stop, if you know what I mean. She doesn’t want it broadcast.”

  “Keys,” said Sam, suppressing a shudder.

  “I don’t have the keys. The guard has the keys.”

  Sam looked around, there was no sign of anyone.

  “Does this seem weird to you?”

  “Yeah,” said Colby. He picked up a clipboard and scanned it quickly. “The girl’s over there. Cage nine.”

  “Okay. Let’s go.”

  Colby led the way, but they hadn’t gone far before Sam heard a familiar voice.

  “Sam! Hey, Sam! It’s me!”

  He spun around. It was Nathan. Looking slightly the worse for wear, and very uncertain of the reception he might get from his old friend.

  “Nathan!”

  “I’m sorry, Sam, I really am.”

  “You stole my car.”

  “I know…I know. I was scared, I…I don’t know…I was scared.”

  “This guy a friend of yours?” asked Colby.

  “I used to think so.”

  “Huh.”

  “Oh, c’mon, Sam!” Nathan’s voice sounded a little more desperate. “Please. Get me out of here!”

  “Where’s Alma?”

  “Over there. She’s off her head, though. The guard said she’d eaten some of the Tahoe fish, but I don’t get that. Those things aren’t that strong.”

  Sam stared at him.

  “The guard?”

  “Yeah. He’s over there now seeing if he can get his rocks off before it wears off.”

  Sam forgot about Colby and the gun and just ran.

  “Hey!” yelled Nathan. “What about me?”

  The cage door was open and Sam could just make out the guard groping Alma, who seemed to be responding enthusiastically. He reached the cage just as the man uttered a blood curdling yelp of pain and doubled over, his chin meeting Alma’s rapidly rising knee as her clenched fists crashed down on the back of his head. It was over in seconds.

  Alma retrieved his keys and weapons, then glanced up at Sam, who was standing by the door open-mouthed.

  “I thought…”

  “Which part of “I metabolize drugs quickly” didn’t you get, porangi?”

  “What?”

  Alma nodded toward Colby.

  “I’ll take your stuff as well,” she said. “Now.”

  “Not a chance, sweetheart.”

  Alma looked surprised.

  “It’s okay,” said Sam. “He’s with us. You mean you were never…? But you kissed Setzen!”

  “I know. That was kind of gross. I had it under control, though.”

  “Had it what? You were unarmed and even if you weren’t under the influence, Bast had just handed you over to him and his men for playtime!”

  “So you had to ride in like the 7th cavalry,” she said, pulling her hair back and braiding it quickly. “How d’you feel that went for you?”

  Sam watched as she strapped on all the weapons, concealing the smaller ones and measuring the heft of the larger ones until she found a balance that worked.

  “Anyway,” he said. “I got to kick Setzen.”

  “Yeah,” said Alma, flashing her sideways smile. “That was kinda cool. Great entrance, too.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Cut the dialog and let’s get out of here,” said Colby. “Sooner or later someone’s gonna find Bast and all hell’s gonna break loose.”

  “Right,” said Alma.

  “Hey! Over here!”

  “It’s Nathan,” said Sam.

  “Yeah, I know. Bast told me. He was trying to make some deal with her. You’d better let him out.”

  Sam took the keys and went back to Nathan’s cage. He’d spent most of the last weeks cursing Nathan and coming up with imaginative scenarios of exactly what he would do to him if they ever crossed paths again. But now that the moment had arrived he couldn’t help feeling that the right thing, the mature thing, would be to accept his apology.

  Nathan stepped out of the cage slowly.

  “I’m really sorry, Sam.”

  This was the moment where he was supposed to say that it was okay. That all was forgiven. Sam started to turn away.

  Sod that.

  He turned around and decked him with a roundhouse crack to the jaw.

  Nathan yelped and clutched at his face as he fell, then stared up at Sam resentfully.

  “I should knock you into the middle of next fucking week!” growled Sam.

  “I know,”
said Nathan, miserably.

  Sam sighed and helped him to his feet. “Come on.”

  Nathan managed a smile, then winced and rubbed at his jaw again. “So…what’s the plan?”

  “Get out of here. Disappear.”

  “Sounds good to me. Who’s the big guy?”

  “His name’s Colby. He’s our ticket out, so be nice.”

  Nathan grinned as Alma strode up.

  “Hey, Alma.”

  She glared at him.

  “If you’d betrayed me like that, you’d be a stain on the floor.”

  Nathan’s smile vanished and he moved as far as he could from the scary girl.

  “There’s an exit on this level,” said Colby. “Follow me. Alma, can you disable the elevator? Could buy us some more time.”

  Alma nodded and disappeared back into the dark. A few moments later there was a short, muffled burst of automatic weapons fire followed by a thud.

  “I can see the attraction,” said Colby, grinning, as she marched back.

  He turned and led the way through the maze of cages and over to a black door in the far wall.

  “She has these bolt holes all over the place,” he explained. “She thinks we don’t know, but after what happened in Mazatlan, we keep each other informed.”

  He kicked the door in and ushered them into a long, dark corridor that Sam soon realized was actually on a slight grade.

  “Why’d you keep working for her if she treats you like disposable parts?” he asked.

  “Money,” said Colby. “She pays real well, and aside from one or two times—Mazatlan being one of them—she always wins.”

  “So why today?” asked Alma.

  “Your friend, here, slipped the boss some kind of mickey while I was on the door.”

  “But that’s not your fault,” said Nathan. “You weren’t even in the room.”

  “You think that’d matter? You’ve got a lot to learn, kid.”

  “I don’t get the whole armed forces thing, anyway,” continued Nathan, unfazed. “I mean, following orders, uniforms, yes-sir-no-sir, what’s that about? And who gets to pick who’s in charge? You wouldn’t find me taking orders from some chick, I’ll tell you that for free.”

  “Oooh, Sam,” wheedled Alma. “Please let me kill him. Please?”

  Sam laughed. It was kind of good to see that Nathan was still the same.

  After about half an hour in the tunnel, they emerged into one of the alleys near the main entrance. The great city was still dark, its population cradled within its walls, secure and silent. The only sound that intruded on the empty streets was the distant, rhythmic throb of the oil pumps and the deep hum of the refinery as it spewed out the fuel that drove Bast’s war.

  “Right. What’s the plan?” whispered Alma. “Oh, wait, look who I’m talking to.”

  “Get to the garage, get the goat, go,” said Sam, grinning. “D’you see what I did there?”

  “Give me some rounds,” said Colby.

  “What?”

  “The garage is across town. If we meet any trouble I want more than a pop gun.”

  Sam glanced at Alma, then retrieved the hardware from his pockets and handed it over.

  “Huh,” she said. “Not as stupid as you look.”

  Sam grinned, then flinched, reaching for the wall.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah. Fine. Just a headache. Let’s get out of here.”

  Alma looked concerned, but nodded and led the way up the alley and through the back streets of the financial district. Sam followed without really being aware of what was going on. His head was pounding like never before, as if some giant fist were slamming against a door, demanding entrance.

  They crossed the main plaza, trying to avoid the pale pools of light created by some of the signs that covered the buildings. Colby glanced back at Sam.

  “You sure you’re okay, kid?”

  “I’m fine. I’ll be…that is, I’ll be fine once we get out of here.”

  He glanced at the big muthascreen on the far side of the square. If he could just get past that without the thing lighting up and saying hi, he’d be alright. At least, he thought he would. He hoped. There were no more pills. He had to be okay once they were out in the Wilds.

  The screen stayed dark, but the pounding continued. The others were talking, making some kind of plans, but he couldn’t hear them. It was taking all his concentration to keep moving forward.

  It seemed to be taking forever. Had it really taken this long to cross the city before?

  And then they were there. The parking lot with its stupid sign and locked elevators. Though, this time it didn’t slow them down—Alma and Colby simply blew the doors off the stairwell and they all clattered up to the fourth floor.

  “This is your car?” said Colby. “Sweet!”

  “Just get in,” said Sam.

  Colby and Nathan squeezed into the back as best they could considering how much junk Nathan had accumulated between taking the car and losing it. Alma took the box and slid into the passenger seat as Sam replaced the lighter.

  “Are you okay to drive?” she asked.

  He didn’t respond—he just turned the key and smiled. The engine snarled.

  “Is that a beautiful sound, or what?”

  “Just get us out of here.”

  He steered the car down to the entrance, where the great iron gate was securely in place.

  “I got this,” said Colby, handing Sam a card. “Pass card. We’ve all got them. Just in case.”

  Sam thanked him, swiped the card and pointed the old car away from Century City and into the outlands.

  “So, Sam,” said Colby. “Alma was telling me you’ve got another set of wheels.”

  “If you can call it that,” said Sam. “Old Vega. She’s steady, but has trouble with the hills. And by hills, I mean ant hills. It’s yours if you want it.”

  “I reckon it’ll do until I find something else. I’m thinking I’ll take a look at what’s left of the country.”

  Sam pulled up to Kate ‘n’ Al’s and led the way to the Vega.

  “You’re right,” said Colby, grinning. “Wow. Piece of shit.”

  Sam smiled and handed over the keys. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the feral-looking owner of the store step outside and drop a coin into the digivend. There was no time to prepare—it hit him just as hard as it had that first day he and Nathan had driven to the city. A searing pain, followed by the cacophonous chattering of a thousand voices.

  “Sam!”

  Running feet. Real or…?

  It receded. He was on his hands and knees in the street, Colby was helping him up and Alma was staring at him as if half-expecting to find him gone.

  “Jesus, kid!” said Colby. “What the hell was that?”

  “He’s fine,” said Alma. “You’re fine. Sam? You are fine?”

  “Yeah,” said Sam, forming the words slowly. His head was still pounding, but that suddenly felt like nothing after the digivend. “I’m fine. We need to go.”

  Alma glanced at Colby, who nodded, picked up the keys and got into the car.

  “Colby’s gonna take me to get my bike,” she said.

  “What? But…?”

  “I’ll meet you and Nathan on the road, okay?”

  “No. Alma, you don’t need—”

  “I do. Just like you need that car. It’s part of me. Okay?”

  “Well, let me drop you off, then.”

  “Look at yourself, Sam. You need to put some miles between you and this place. I’ll catch you up.”

  Sam straightened up and breathed deeply, trying to take everything in. He did understand. Of course he did. Except that he didn’t.

  “Take the I-5 out of town. Nathan said he passed an old quarry near a place called Wheeler’s Ridge. We’ll meet there. Okay? Sam, are you hearing this?”

  “Yes, I’m hearing it. I’m just not liking it.”

  “Take care,” said Alma, smiling.

  “Sure.�
�

  She turned and opened the passenger door of the Vega, then stepped back and walked up to Sam, leaning in so that her mouth was so close to his ear he could feel her breath and the warmth of her skin.

  “I wasn’t asleep, porangi” she whispered. “And I want you to know…the yellow sky is enough for me too.”

  Chapter 33

  SAM WATCHED AS THE VEGA TRUNDLED down the street, its engine whirring like a clockwork toy. He ran his hands through his hair, rubbing at his scalp. The headache was still there, but everything had changed.

  He walked slowly back to the GTO, and realized he was smiling.

  “Are you sure you’re okay to drive?” asked Nathan. “Because I could—”

  “Nathan,” said Sam, turning the key and gunning the engine a couple of times. “There is very little that is certain in this world, but I can tell you one thing—you are never going to drive my car again.”

  He pulled out and drove through the dark streets and alleys of the outlands, before reaching the old highway and heading north. With each mile the headache dissipated a little more, but didn’t vanish altogether, which was weird.

  Sam found himself thinking about Dr. Robinson’s warning, and the boys in the clinic, and couldn’t help wondering if things were going to get worse.

  “I met him again, you know,” he said, eager to think about something else.

  “Who?”

  “Vincent. There was a mob after him and Cherry.”

  “What did you do?”

  “We helped them. Me and Alma. He turned out to be an okay guy.”

  “You helped them? After what they did to you? I would’ve let them die.”

  Sam glanced at Nathan, surprised at the venom in his voice.

  “They didn’t do anything to me,” he said. “That was you.”

  “I didn’t have a choice.”

  “Yes, you did. You could’ve told me. We could’ve put some miles between us and them. There’s no way they’d be able to outrun the GTO.”

  “I was scared.”

  “You think I wasn’t?”

  Nathan stared out of the passenger window sulkily.

  “I said I was sorry,” he muttered.

  Sam glanced at him again. How could he think that just saying “sorry” would be enough? This wasn’t about forgetting to make a fire, or leaving food out, or not putting oil in the car when you said you would. It wasn’t about the usual, dumb things that everyone does from time to time. It was about deciding that your life was more valuable than the next guy’s.