by Purple Hazel
“I think when we get out on the highway for a bit, I should check in with Monika and let her know we got you with us, Bones,” she then said, reaching over to her DICE to scroll down to Monika’s number in Darmstadt. Then Shamiso stopped and said, “Wait, what am I doing? Duh. She’s not even in her office—it’s Sunday.”
“Ummm...actually, I think it’d be wiser if we didn’t call anyone for a while, guys,” interrupted Young-Min Jo suddenly. Simultaneously he reached forward and squeezed Shamiso's shoulder as if to warn her. “I don’t think we should use any of our devices. In fact, I believe we should deactivate the car’s GPS navigation if possible as well. Can we do that, please?”
Shamiso turned and looked at him curiously. “Why? What’s the matter with using me DICE?”
Pausing momentarily, Young-Min leaned forward and met her eyes directly, as if to say trust me on this. She’d seen this look in her old shipmate’s eyes before, and he was usually right. He then explained calmly, and in very clear terms what he was referring to. Ozzie was glancing occasionally into his eyes as well, through the rear-view mirror, as Young-Min spoke. Once again, like so many times before, it was crucial having their former shipmate in a situation like this. His quick thinking had often paid off in the past, and this time it might very well save them from being hunted down before they even made it out of southern Ontario. His two counterparts knew they’d better pay attention.
“Well, a little while back there was a car bombing. We don’t have time for all the gory details, but suffice it to say there were some bad guys...over in Shanghai...trying to kill my brother. They thought I was him, basically...’n things got real fucked up, let’s just put it that way. Couple o’ bodyguards got killed in the blast. Some bystanders, too. Huge explosion, but I got away without a scratch. And that lady who was texting me just now? Zero? She’s in charge of security for Min-Pharma.”
Ozzie and Shamiso listened in silence. The gravity of the situation was starting to sink in.
“Anyway, after the incident I did some studyin’ up on it. That’s why I’m tellin’ you this you see? Don’t try using your DICE...and like I said let’s try and disconnect this vehicle’s onboard navigation system. From what I’ve learned I’m guessing that my brother back at Min-Pharma is tracking our movements...right now...as we speak.”
Young-Min went on to explain how, using modern technology available via public databases—and a little bit of sleuthing on the macronet—most anyone could triangulate with satellites the location of practically any vehicle...anywhere on the globe...simply by tracking its GPS signature.
“Not difficult really. Enter the license plate number, verify the make and model...click-click-click...pretty soon you’re following that car across the country and see pretty much anywhere it goes,” stated Young-Min. “Simple to do really.”
Shamiso looked over at Ozzie, who was already nodding, listening intently, as he swerved through traffic on the freeway.
“In fact,” added the young Ensign, “Zero has alluded to Min-Pharma having an automated program for doing this very thing back at headquarters.”
By now, Shamiso had pivoted completely around in her seat, fascinated with what he was telling them.
“After the assassination attempt, Zero mentioned something to that effect. Said Min-Pharma should have known about our vehicle and everywhere it travelled in Shanghai. She also said it was unusual for our enemies to find our rental car so easily. I did some research on it...seems it’s actually pretty damned easy to purchase software these days which allows you to locate people anywhere on Earth via communication transmissions being attempted with handheld devices.”
Shamiso looked down at her wrist where her DICE was fastened. “Okay. I get that. But ’ow could they track mine? I can see how they’d track yours...they know your number.”
Ozzie finally jumped into the conversation. He was connecting the dots already. “Wait, I think I get it now. Doesn’t matter does it, Bones? Is that what yer sayin’? Now that they’ve most likely got our GPS signature from using this here onboard navigator thing, any transmissions from our car they’ll detect and get updates on our location. That sound about right?"
Young-Min nodded. “Yes...that’s what I’m saying Oz. And I truly believe that’s a possibility. I mean, after the bombing, Zero was really frustrated with her operatives in Shanghai. Informants basically. They spy on Min-Pharma’s rivals over there constantly. Anyway, they should have been able to detect what my brother’s enemies were up to—as well as their movements, she said. I questioned her on how they could do this and she described something like I just told you. Simply put, she said they had ways of knowing...just about everything...just about everywhere their enemies go in Asia.”
Shamiso had heard plenty. After all, this was the guy who’d detected the missing matter pod, months before they’d passed its original location back on the Santa Maria. This was also the guy who had reprogrammed the ship’s food replicator to accept freeze-dried vegetables laced with marijuana—no small task, that one! Trusting him once again, when it came to technology, was a foregone conclusion.
“Well then, I ain’t riskin’ it,” she proclaimed. She promptly took off her DICE, turned off its power, and threw it into the glove compartment. Ozzie dutifully held his left hand across his body for her to remove his DICE as well. Young-Min deactivated his. Then, when all was said and done, she turned her attention to uninstalling the car’s GPS system. For this operation, she needed assistance, however.
Using the owner’s manual, she and Young-Min hacked at it for about ten minutes before they figured out how to do it. And when they succeeded, it wiped out access to all music stations as well. The entire display suddenly went blank. Only the power gauge and speedometer still worked.
“Oh well,” snickered Ozzie, still speeding down the highway. He was passing cars like they were standing still, passing on the right, passing on the left, all the while keeping a watchful eye for police cars or highway patrolmen, like his brother had taught him to do back in Texas. “Ain’t a problem, not havin’ no music to listen to, is it? Y’all don’t mind talkin’ the whole way to Detroit, do ya?” he asked. Indeed no one objected. As far as they believed, they’d gone completely “radio silent”. Anyone tracking them, back at Min-Pharma or anywhere else for that matter, would suddenly find nothing on their screen. If this had worked, they’d have completely vanished.
It did. Chasing after them all the way to Detroit was now about the only remaining option for their determined pursuers. And meanwhile for Zero, following fifteen kilometers behind them in a Min-Pharma limousine, with her laptop open, tracking their location, this was now going to require a little ingenuity.
She had two bodyguards with her. Both were in the front seat. Zero was alone in the back, computer splayed open, drinking a bottled water, watching the screen to detect distance to their target.
“Shit!” she exclaimed when the screen unexpectedly went blank. She was at that very moment looking at a highway map of southern Ontario. And where there’d once been an image of a red dot flashing occasionally to indicate the exact spot on the highway where Young-Min’s car was, now there was nothing.
She sighed and drooped her shoulders, taking another sip of water from the bottle. Wondering why she’d lost track of them, she now glared at the screen for a moment perplexed. One of the guards called back to her, “Zero? You okay back there?” She scoffed in response, realizing what must have just happened.
“Pffft. No. I’m not okay. Those bastards have vanished,” she replied. She crossed her arms in frustration, looking out the tinted windows at the cars on the freeway.
“Huh? Vanished? How?” asked the guard in the passenger seat. Zero had a pretty good idea, but didn’t bother with detailing it for her giant colleague. “I’ve got a few theories, but, never mind that,” she replied, “just keep heading toward Detroit, boys. I’m gonna make a few calls.” She knew just who to contact in The Motor City. “Leave it to me,”
she sneered. “We’ll find them eventually.”
* * * *
Arriving in Detroit several hours later, Ozzie pulled into the parking lot of the car rental company near the hotel where the Wranglers had stayed the night before. Only knowing how to find the hotel because it was located near the Detroit Double Jacks’ home stadium, he drove around neighborhoods until things looked somewhat familiar. The same staff were there as before, and they gladly received him.
“Hey! How was the drive, Ranger?” one asked him, and Shamiso smirked upon hearing this. “Ranger?” she chided him. He ignored her. “Fantastic,” he answered, “but hey, we’re in kind of a hurry, buddy. I don’t suppose you could help us find a uh...a bus station ’r somethin’? Or a train...that’d be good...either one ’ll do.”
The clerk at the front counter paused and furrowed his eyebrows as he pondered the bizarre question being posed to him right now. Heretofore he’d figured Ozzie would simply return the car and fly back to Dallas that night. Why would a star Center Back for the Dallas Wranglers need to take a bus? Unfortunately, there was no way Ozzie could explain everything to him—nor would he. It had all been decided during the drive down from Toronto. Their goal was to head west...
Hours before, the discussion in the car had eventually centered upon what they were going to do, now that they were being pursued by an enemy hell-bent on killing them. They had to keep moving; that was the key, and everyone agreed. Shamiso’s things? Rudo would have to get them to her later. Ozzie’s? He’d packed everything from his hotel room, but had no military ID. He had almost half of the Euros given to him by Monika. Shamiso had only a small amount left. Young-Min had nearly all of his. Plus, Young-Min had his ID badges and uniform. But the challenge they kept running into was this: what good would any of that do them? Especially now?!
Stop somewhere? Identify themselves to local law enforcement? Sure. They could do that. Yet how would that save their lives? In the grand scheme of things, it would only serve to pinpoint their location.
“One way or another, they’ll get to us...and kill us. Bet they will,” Young-Min had warned, “and it won’t matter if the cops believe our story either. Those big Samoans aren’t afraid of police officers. They can be paid off easily. We won’t stand a chance.”
Drive south? Further south into the former “USA”? Possibly. But that might prove dangerous. Bigger cities and towns: lots of Min-Pharma operatives working there. And what of driving north? Back into Canada? Sure, they could do that, too. But inside Canada, Young-Min wasn’t so sure how far west his brother’s sphere of influence ranged. Into British Columbia, for certain...he’d heard tell of them having distributorships out there.
But as far as continuing west...further west into the former United States? There he had a more definite idea. He had heard of things pertaining to this many times in fact. Zero had talked about it specifically.
“Rapid City,” she’d said once. It was on a flight—the long one to Mallorca, Spain. Or maybe it had been on the flight back, he wasn’t sure. They’d been chatting about where “the boss” had “controlled markets” for their products, and somewhere in the discussion, that city out in South Dakota had come up.
“I’d been asking her about my brother’s distribution channels,” explained Young-Min as they’d sped down the highway, “and where he was bringing product into the province of North America, while final approval of the drug was still pending with the G.U. See, I knew he couldn’t utilize widespread distribution of Enimen while that was in process, so I was wondering how he was going to get it out to doctors for them to prescribe it. In fact I wondered if they even could prescribe it—legally that is.”
“But when I asked her, she said something about having controlled markets. Said there were various cities where they had a network in place. It was kind of creepy sounding—kind of clandestine too—like some drug dealer would say back in one of those old movies we used to watch onboard the Santa Maria, remember? Best I can tell you, my brother must have developed a street network—just like some drug cartel would have done back in twenty-first century Earth. Anyway, my guess is that his sphere of influence ends at Rapid City, South Dakota. He has no further operations west of there, she told me.”
Thus, it had been the trio’s decision to keep heading further and further west. Then figure something out once they got there. They weren’t too sure of where they’d find Space Programme installations out there either. They did have one name in mind though: Rapid City, at the edge of the Black Hills National Forest. As far as Young-Min knew, once they cleared that town, they could relax.
“Best of all, once we get ’rselves a different car,” added Ozzie at the time, “we can use the GPS again to set a destination for it, and just let the car drive us there. Pretty cool. It’ll also warn us of accidents, traffic-slowdowns, weather delays...it’s gonna be easy once we get a good lead on them ’ole boys chasin’ us.”
And that’s why they’d determined they’d buy bus tickets somewhere in Detroit, ride as far west as they could, then rent a new car for the rest of the way. Maybe make a call to Práxedis back in Texas to have him book it for them.
If only it were that simple...
“Whuh...why don’t you fly back to Dallas, Ranger?” asked the clerk at the car rental place, looking confused but maintaining his professionalism. “We can shuttle you out to the airport...for free of course...and your friends too. It’s no problem.” Ozzie and his colleagues however had already debated that idea earlier. No way they could pull it off with the cash they had. Only Young-Min had his military ID. That had been the plan by the way...to get him to Toronto Air Terminal and send him off to Darmstadt. Now it was a whole different ballgame. Now they were all running for their lives. Between them—maybe—they’d have enough to afford a bus as far as Chicago, Milwaukee, perhaps even Sioux Falls.
They were suddenly interrupted however...by a fan.
“Hey! Ranger Guerrero?! Holy shit, man!” yelled a young man who’d walked into the lobby a few moments before. He was wearing a University of Michigan T-shirt, and looked like he hadn’t shaved in several days. He smelled a lot like he hadn’t bathed in that period of time either. Ozzie turned instinctively to greet the fellow, one of his brother’s admirers, and shook hands with the kid, who seemed like he wanted to do all the most popular sports handshakes of the past few decades—in rapid succession. His breath smelled of cigarettes and beer.
“Whaddya still doin’ in Detroit, man? You guys played yesterday diddun ya’? I’d a’ thought you guys ’d be back in Dallas by now!”
Ozzie shrugged his shoulders and replied, “Yeah, uh, we sorta missed the flight back...with the team ’n all. Pretty messed up, you know?” The young man rolled his eyes and gave out a big long “Wooooah. Really? Oh shit. We gotta get you to the airport then, huh?” Shamiso giggled at observing Ozzie with the overzealous fan. It was more fun seeing someone else handle something like this for once.
The clerk at the desk then pointed out that the shuttle was away right now but returning in half an hour from the air terminal. Could they wait until then? Ozzie shook his head nervously, explaining that it was a little more complicated than that.
“Nah, that’s alright,” he replied. “Could you point me to the bus terminal nearest ta’ this place? Like I said...that ’r a train might do. We don’t got much cash left on us. Pretty wild night, you see?”
To this, the clerk looked embarrassed as if at a loss for words. Nevertheless, the young Michigan University student was quick with a solution. “Ah man...what is it...just you three folks right? You got bags ’n shit too? Hey, fuck that...I’ll give you a ride. Seriously. We can fit. Got my old man’s car today. Went home to do laundry. Fuck all that, I’ll get it later. Got clean shit back at school to wear anyway. C’mon, I’ll take you.”
“Are you sure? You don’t mind carryin’ all three of us?” asked Ozzie, crossing his arms. Shamiso was looking at the musty-smelling fellow suspiciously. Young-Min still
hadn’t spoken. He was simply dazzled at how Ozzie was so blatantly posing as his twin brother without attempting to correct the young fellow. Nevertheless, Ozzie was not baffled in the least with hospitality such as this. Fans were crazy. He’d learned this many times. And if the kid was offering to give them a ride...why not take him up on it?!
“Serious as fuck, man,” replied the college student. Then he turned toward Shamiso and apologized for the foul language. “Sorry lady,” he muttered, then chuckled, explaining that he was just so excited to meet a sports legend like “Ranger” Guerrero and couldn’t help himself. Shamiso let it slide without any argument. By then the young man was starting to grow on her a bit.
“Well, don’t fuckin’ let it happen again, okay mate?” she said jokingly, which made the fellow even more flabbergasted. “Wow man. You from Australia?” he asked. “Fuck no...tosser. I ain’t no bleedin’ Aussie,” she retorted indignantly. Then everyone cracked up, even Young-Min Jo. Meanwhile Ozzie patted the young man on the back to let him know everything was alright.
Eventually they all agreed to the man’s offer. They piled into his dad’s family sedan and headed out of the parking lot, figuring by now they’d most certainly put an hour between them and their pursuers, at the least. However, they also figured they’d best not use their Digital Communication Devices for at least another day—until they were far, far west of Detroit...
“So where ’r we headin’ buddy?” Ozzie finally asked, when the young man took off from the parking lot, sped out of town, and jumped onto highway 96. It took him a few minutes to notice they had left downtown Detroit and were heading out on a different freeway.
“Ann Arbor, baby!” exclaimed the young fellow, after which he let out a long “whooo-hooo!” He then revealed to the folks in the back seat that he had the remnants of a twelve-pack of beer if they wished to indulge. “Think I got about five left, if you wanna check,” he said. Young-Min confirmed this quickly, but didn’t feel much like taking him up on the offer.
