The Registry

by Shannon Stoker

  Chapter 27

  You may report for duty at any government building. From there you will be taken to the nearest training camp. Your initial training marks the beginning of your manhood. You will grow into more of a man with each day of service.

  —The Boy’s Guide to Service

  The tavern looked just like Andrew expected, and the blacked-out windows made it impossible to tell what time of day it was. A long, sturdy hardwood bar spanned the whole length of the place. This was a tavern designed for heavy drinking. In the morning there weren’t many customers. A sleeping older man, Andrew, and the bartender were the only ones in the place.

  After a quick survey, Andrew sat down at the bar, close to the door, and pulled out the money Mia had taken off of Scott. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for Andrew’s entry. He threw money down and ordered a beer. The bartender was a short, heavy man who looked annoyed to have a customer already. He pulled out a bottle and set it in front of Andrew. Andrew took a deep breath and took a swig from the bottle. He hated the taste of beer. He’d never understood why so many men enjoyed it, but he knew the rules. If he wanted to stay inside, he had to order, or else it would be begging in the parking lot.

  The parking lot was not as bad as Andrew had anticipated. He had thought it would be bloodier. He was surprised to see boys still alive. He didn’t like being jumped on but was certain they were just starving to death and hoping to rob him. He couldn’t feel for them right now; the girls were his current responsibility. He shrugged off any feelings of sympathy and turned his attention to the bartender. After all, Andrew didn’t want to starve to death either.

  “Do you know where I could find some work around here?” Andrew asked.

  This caught the attention of the bartender, who turned and examined Andrew. He ran his eyes up and down Andrew’s frame.

  “You’re thin but cut, aren’t you? What are you, seventeen? Six foot one? A hundred and sixty pounds?” the bartender asked.

  “Eighteen. Six foot three. A hundred and seventy-five pounds.” Andrew didn’t like where this was going.

  “We host fights at night. Twenty dollars a round if you win. Fifty dollars if you kill the other guy.”

  “I’m not a fighter.” Andrew felt his knuckles growing white as he gritted his teeth.

  He flashed back to age thirteen. He was just out of school with nowhere to go. The fighting circuit seemed like a great idea. You could make easy money and train for service. Andrew shuddered at the thought of how many boys had met their fate at his hands. He realized he was squeezing his fists too tight and tried to relax. Those days were behind him.

  “I could clean your parking lot. I noticed some stains and some beggars on their last legs outside. I could escort them away for you.”

  Killing someone gave Andrew no pleasure. Scott had been his first casualty in years. But Andrew had learned a long time ago that violence was often necessary for survival.

  “Tonight’s fighters will show up in a little while. They come early to get people to sponsor them. The fighters clean up the beggars for free. They get some practice out of it,” the bartender explained.

  Andrew’s flashbacks continued. This time he saw the face of a young boy, no older than thirteen. The image remained burned into Andrew’s mind. The teen looked so scared, his eyes so hollow, but Andrew didn’t even hesitate to crack his skull open. The crowd of gamblers went nuts, encouraging him. The younger boy was dead and Andrew relished the applause.

  His mind went to a new vision. This time, he was in the same position as the dead boy. It was his final fight. He could feel death approaching as an older teen had him pinned in the ring. The crowd was chanting for the opponent to finish off Andrew. The fighter raised his fist and Andrew closed his eyes, but no final blow came. His competitor let him live. He got booed as Andrew caught his breath. He was alive.

  The older teen showed Andrew compassion, something nobody had ever done before. That was his last fight and he had lived through it. Just sitting in this place was making him sick, but he needed work. It was the safest way to help the girls, and for some reason he couldn’t let Mia down.

  “What about any locals? I know a lot about farming,” he said.

  “Stick around and check for yourself, as long as you’re buying.” The bartender pointed to Andrew’s beer.

  He forced himself to pick it up and took a swig as he stood. He moved to one of the few tables. It wasn’t far from the bar but this way Andrew could avoid forced conversation with the bartender while he waited. He thought back to his conversation with Mia last night. He knew he should have been mad at himself for talking with her, but he wasn’t. It did feel nice to share a little. He remembered his promise to himself to maintain distance. Maybe it wasn’t a bad idea to get to know the girls a little better. After all, the error had been trusting Scott, not them. He nodded to himself; it wasn’t like they would become friends or anything, just make small talk to pass the time. He hoped that for now Mia and Whitney would stay put and quiet.

  Mia needed to keep out of sight because she looked like a girl, and Whitney needed to keep her mouth shut because she sounded like a girl. He reminded himself not to worry. Both of them were proving useful in their own ways and they were better off out there than in here. Besides, there was no way he could afford to buy them all drinks. He chuckled at the thought of Mia drinking a beer. He doubted she would be able to stomach it.

  Chapter 28

  Your rank and occupation in service will guarantee you a lifetime of respect. The higher you rise, the more esteem you are worthy of. A general deserves more honor than a private because he served his country to the very best of his ability.

  —The Boy’s Guide to Service

  Grant pulled out a small electronic tablet and held down the voice-record button. The technology freeze had been in place for several decades now. The general public wasn’t allowed to appreciate any of these advances. Laptops and cell phones were the newest inventions acceptable, and some homes kept televisions to watch news and occasional foreign programming. Grant didn’t need permission, though. His clearance allowed him top-of-the-line inventions from all over the world.

  “Develop comfortable nose guard to block smells but allow breathing,” he said into the machine.

  He was always thinking of prototypes, a whole range of weapons or items that could assist the military. The scent of Scott Rand’s decomposing body, along with the manure, had given him his latest idea.

  He smiled and waved as the black SUV pulled up into the rest area. Leonard and his agent stepped out of the vehicle and walked toward him.

  “Think fast,” Grant said jokingly as he tossed a wallet toward the younger agent. “Meet your abductor. Please go prepare a press release and blast pictures of him, my wife, and her friend all over the news.”

  The agent looked at Leonard for guidance and he nodded his head. He pulled out his phone and began readying the story while Leonard and Grant walked toward the crime scene. The area was chaotic; yellow tape roped off the entire perimeter and a forensic team was combing over every inch.

  “Don’t worry,” Grant said. “Most of these workers are from my own private group. I’m not stealing your resources.”

  “We have plenty of resources. Budget is not a concern,” Leonard said. “But thank you. What did they find?”

  “Twenty-six-year-old male, bludgeoned to death, left in the back of his truck. His body was cleaned and hidden. It looks like all blankets, clothes, and shoes were taken. Cash too, if he had any.”

  “It’s your girl. Anyone else would have taken more—the parts on this truck are worth a lot of money—and they wouldn’t have cleaned up the body,” Leonard said.

  “I’m sure it wasn’t her, but her companion traveler Andrew. I don’t think that she would be strong enough to kill.” Grant laughed under his breath. He imagined killing Andrew. He hoped it would be with his bare hands.

  “Why don’t we just release details about the Andrew k
id?” Leonard asked. “At least in the local area?”

  “Soon, my friend. Right now, I am enjoying myself. Expand your mind. With this kid’s enlistment date so close, even if I lose, I win! We’ll just go pick them up then.”

  “You’ve been here awhile. What else did you find out?” Leonard asked.

  “I’ve been here about, oh, five hours,” Grant said. “The driver was hauling manure, making everything stink and making it difficult to guess the time of death. They think it could be anywhere from a day to a week. But there is something interesting over here.”

  The men walked closer to the building, and Grant flushed with excitement. He felt like he was back in service again, hunting, using his brain against a formidable opponent.

  “It’s a smashed case.” Leonard looked puzzled. “They stole a map?”

  “The map doesn’t matter; the symbols on the case do. Travelers mark maps like this to let others know where to go and where not to go. It’s sort of the code of the road.”

  “I spent most of my youth as a city boy,” Leonard said.

  “Me too, but I still know how the world works.” Grant couldn’t believe Leonard was so ignorant. “My guess is that the kid saw something on here. Something motivated him enough to take the map for directions. So, I’m having my team reassemble the glass, put a new map underneath it, and voilà, we’ll have an idea of where they’re at.”

  “How long will that take?”

  “Should have the glass assembled by nightfall. I’m not sure about cracking the code, though, might take another twenty to thirty minutes.”

  “You could have your wife home before bedtime,” Leonard said.

  Grant wrinkled his brow at that idea. He wasn’t sure whether it was because he didn’t want to end the chase or because the idea of taking her home was no longer appealing. He shrugged it off. He could always kill her, make it look like an accident. Nobody would dare question him.

  “Mr. Marsden, where is Agent Jeffries?” Leonard asked.

  “That’s a funny story.” Grant wrapped his arm around Leonard’s shoulders. “I let him fly my chopper. It’s a less complicated prototype, but the guy forgot to buckle his safety belt and slipped out. Don’t worry, I sent a team out to find his body.”

  Grant continued flashing his million-dollar smile at an uneasy Leonard. He wished he could tell the whole story, how Jeffries dangled from the aircraft and begged for his life, but he figured the death was enough. Grant hoped the RAG team was beginning to understand the true extent of his power.

  Chapter 29

  All grooms are American heroes. It is an honor to be the wife of a hero. She will enjoy respect from all her peers and bask in her husband’s glory.

  —The Registry Guide for Girls

  Mia was growing tired and hot. The morning sun gave way to the afternoon heat, and the two girls were still sitting in the field. They moved closer to their meeting spot but not all the way there. Mia was getting restless and debated walking into the bar to see what was going on.

  “It looks like something is happening in the parking lot.” Whitney’s voice snapped Mia back to reality.

  It did look like there was some action taking place. They were close enough to see people moving but too far away to see what the people were doing.

  “I’m going closer, to get a better look.” Mia began crawling back to the original meeting point. She was surprised Andrew would have had them wait in such an open spot.

  Crawling felt stupid. The grass wasn’t hiding her at all and she had a feeling anyone who looked in her direction would notice her right away, but for whatever reason Mia remained on all fours.

  When she got closer, the figures in the lot came into focus. They were fighting. Some were laughing and shoving, joking around, while others were full-on swinging. The monsters she and Whitney had noticed earlier weren’t monsters at all. They were just starving people. Mia gasped in horror as someone started kicking a starving boy. The attacker was huge, double if not triple the weight of his victim. She wanted to rise up and yell at the attacker to leave the boy alone, but fear and Andrew’s instructions kept ringing in her head. She continued to crawl. She was already well past the meeting point, almost to the end of the grass. Any cover she had was lost.

  Her stomach turned at the violence that she saw. Young men were laughing at each other’s despair. It was wretched. Thoughts of Andrew filled her mind, that it was a possibility he could have shared their fate. It was a cruel world for young boys.

  She knew she had to do something. She was not going to sit by and let these people be killed. Mia became so fixated on the beatings she did not realize a vehicle was parking right by her hiding spot. She rose to yell at the abusers and found herself face-to-face with a van. She ducked down, hoping to avoid the driver’s notice.

  The fear of being hit by a car refocused Mia’s energy. She felt like she had been woken from a trance and needed to run back to Whitney. She was about to turn and crawl when something caught her ear.

  Midwest Area beauty Mia Morrissey was abducted late Tuesday night. The eighteen-year-old made headlines for having such a hefty price tag. She was purchased by a Grant Marsden of the Northeast Area and the two were married. Little is known about her abductor, who has been identified as Scott Rand, a twenty-six-year-old truck driver. Her husband had this to say: “Please give me back my wife. We did not get the chance to enjoy our lives together yet; I just want her home safe. Please.” For more information please visit our website at . . .

  The radio station was turned off and the door to the van swung open. Mia was so interested in the report she forgot about staying out of sight. Her eyes met the driver’s for a brief second and she reminded herself to close her mouth and look away.

  He looked nice, though, warm and welcoming, with silver hair. He tried to smile at her but Mia started moving toward Whitney, never looking back. She decided it wasn’t worth it to crawl. Andrew had picked this spot because he knew the boys were too busy being nasty to each other to worry about her.

  Maybe the radio misspoke,” Whitney said. “Did they say anything about me?”

  “How can I be married? Don’t you think I would know about it?”

  “What does it matter? If you are married it’s better for your father. At least that means he got paid. What about me?”

  “Yeah, they mentioned you. Said we were taken together. It sounded like they had just finished up your segment when I started listening,” Mia lied, and noticed Whitney’s joy at being mentioned.

  “Let’s walk closer to the bar.” Mia stood and walked upright. “I don’t think crawling makes a difference; nobody will pay attention to us.”

  The boys who had been fighting earlier had scattered. Mia hadn’t noticed any action at all since she made it back to Whitney. Even the starving boys were gone. Mia shuddered, doubting they had made it out alive.

  “I’m hungry. This sucks,” Whitney said. Mia was shocked at her language choice; she thought being a boy was starting to suit her.

  A tall, lanky, dark-haired figure popped out from the front door. Mia recognized Andrew and wanted to run to him. Every muscle in her legs was telling her to sprint and throw her arms around him. She was grateful he had made it to the farm, that he hadn’t starved in a parking lot somewhere. She thought he needed to hear those words, but just as she sped up, her brain reminded her boys didn’t run and hug other boys. She needed to play the role.

  She slowed down a little and could hear Whitney groaning over Mia’s little sprint.

  Mia was so busy focusing on Andrew that she didn’t pay attention to the gentleman who was following him outside. It was the guy from the van. She hoped the silver-haired man didn’t mention their encounter to Andrew. The last thing she wanted was for him to get testy with her again. She pulled her hat brim low over her eyes and looked to the ground as she approached them.

  “This is, ahhh, Walter and, ahhh, Marty. Walter and Marty, my traveling partners.” Andrew sounded please
d at his choice of names; Mia assumed she was Marty.

  “Hello, Marty,” the man said.

  Both Mia and Whitney responded to his greeting. Avoiding eye contact made it difficult for Mia to tell if he noticed.

  “Didn’t have enough for us all to sit in the bar, so they’re just tired from this heat.” Andrew put his arm around Whitney. “Isn’t that right, Walter?”

  Mia might as well have been blind. She was too scared to look at the man’s reaction.

  “It is hot out,” the silver-haired man said. “Well, you two little ones get in the back. Andrew, you can sit up front with me. It’s about an hour’s drive to my farm, so get ready for a bumpy ride.”

  Mia gave Whitney a quick sideways glance. The last time they had been in the back of a vehicle together, it hadn’t ended so well. She hoped Whitney’s nerves weren’t getting the better of her.

  “I get carsick, can I sit in the front?” Whitney didn’t do a good job disguising her voice.

  Mia was certain they were going to get caught. If this man hadn’t had suspicions yet, he would now.

  “Walter, you’ll be fine. Mr. Piozzi and I have to talk about the work we’ll be doing. When you’re the one in charge, you can sit in the front.” Andrew was already walking Whitney toward the back. Mia stayed close and jumped in first to help Whitney up. It was obvious her friend was uncomfortable, but Mia couldn’t risk comforting her; it would expose them as females.

  There was a divider between the front seat and the rear of the van. Mia and Whitney had to sit on the hard floor. There were a few tools visible. Mia hoped the ride would go fast. She noted it was hotter in here than outside. Mia went to the window over the door to see if she could get it open.

  The van’s engine turned over and they backed out of the lot, right over a giant bloodstain. Mia wanted to reassure Whitney, but the sight of the stain sent a giant shiver through her body and she decided it was best to remain quiet. The van was moving too fast to have a conversation anyway. Mia ignored the window and leaned back against the side. The heat was making it easy to nap.