by Purple Hazel
“Oi. Wait a minute. Where’s Ann Arbor, mate?” asked Shamiso. “Is that where the bleedin’ airport is? ’Cause we don’t ’ave enough cash for no airship. I believe we told you we was thinkin’ o’ bussin’ it.”
“Yep. I heard you guys talkin’ ’bout that back at the rental car place,” the youth replied, adding that he’d been dropping off a buddy to rent a moving van, and that’s when he’d seen “Ranger” standing at the counter. “Not a problem,” he added. “Bus terminal in downtown Detroit is a shithole. You guys wouldn’t last very long, if you know what I mean. I figured, hell, Ann Arbor is just west of here a bit. Go find a bus there...in a college town, where it’s safer. Anyway, where you guys headin’? I never caught that part.” Young-Min and Shamiso decided to let Ozzie field that one himself.
“West...’n as far as where...we ain’t decided that yet,” he answered, being quite honest with the Good Samaritan fraternity boy who’d sacrificed clean underwear and blue jeans for another week just to transport them. It sure was nice of him—and convenient. Here was a local fellow who knew the lay of the land. Rather fortunate, Ozzie figured. Shamiso wasn’t terribly bothered by the arrangement. Young-Min Jo by way of comparison was still in full crisis mode. He was all business. Silent for the most part. Assessing the situation. Unemotional like he used to be back on the ship.
“Ain't thought that far ahead, I mean,” added Ozzie, clarifying. It didn’t seem to bother the young fellow, who smelled a bit like a Billy goat, and a lot like beer yeast and marijuana. So they all sat back and relaxed while the kid drove them—for thirty minutes or so—into the sprawling college town just west of Detroit. That suited Ozzie just fine. Here he had a raving sports fan who thought he was Ranger Guerrero, willing to drive them far from downtown Detroit. Farther west than he’d hoped, and far from their enemies still in hot pursuit. If started to feel like they’d given the bad guys the slip!
Yes, even if Zero and her henchmen had followed them to the car rental place, they’d have had a hard time identifying which direction they’d headed. Even if the clerk at the store tipped them off as to their possible whereabouts, how would they catch up to them now? They were long gone...heading west into the land of the Wolverines. Ann Arbor. Home to the centuries-old University of Michigan...
“Cool town,” commented Ozzie, as they reached the exit and saw the big Megaball stadium off in the distance. “The Big House”. It had once been used as a holding pen for thousands and thousands of refugees fleeing Detroit after the Great Collapse of 2028. This storied building had become a processing center for hundreds of thousands to determine their potential affiliation with street gangs in the city during the rioting. Many never made it out of there alive, yet most of the history from that dark period had been swept away with the passing years. Now it was a modern sports facility. Domed in, seating over a hundred thousand, it towered over the campus skyline.
“Thanks man,” stated the young fellow. “Hey, before I drop you guys off at the bus terminal, you think you’d wanna pop into my frat house over on campus? Have a brew?” Ozzie by now was feeling completely comfortable with the kid. Going to a college campus? Visiting a fraternity house, like his brother had joined back at Oklahoma? He couldn’t resist an offer like that! And despite Shamiso’s hesitations, as well as Young-Min’s silent head-shaking, Ozzie agreed. To him it just made sense. To refuse would have been rude.
“Yeah,” chortled Ozzie, “come to think of it, I figger that’s the least we can do for you, buddy. Do we need to, uh...chip in? We don’t have much cash left, I have to admit.”
This didn’t seem to bother the fellow. Nor did he question the fact that a sports legend like Ranger Guerrero was travelling incognito...across Michigan...on a Sunday night no less...with a black girl from (apparently) England...and an Asian guy wearing a frumpy warm-up suit who rarely spoke a word. Good natured young man, was all Ozzie could assume at the time. Probably didn’t think it was any of his business what “Ranger” Guerrero did with his personal life.
“Ha! No, just leave that to me, Ranger. The guys ’ll be thrilled to meet ya’! You guys too, of course!” he then added, looking into the back seat through his rear-view mirror at Young-Min and Shamiso, both of whom smiled distractedly. The car reeked of marijuana and stale beer. If this truly was his “old man’s car”, it must have experienced a wild weekend or two in recent memory.
“Place is right down the street from the bus terminal, too. I’ll swing by there and get you guys a beer. Show you ’round. Introduce you to the bros. That’s my fraternity brothers I mean. We say bro’s...like brothers ya’ know...in the frat house?” Then he made a signal or a sign with his right hand like it was something significant Ozzie should recognize. He didn’t. But he nodded and attempted to imitate the gesture. This only made the young fellow laugh boisterously.
Arriving at the fraternity house, it was now dusk. A lot of college students were milling about in casual attire. Some were throwing an old frisbee around out front. Others were ambling in, with stacks of books or laundry baskets tucked under their arms. Their host directed them in through the front door.
“C’mon in folks!” he announced, “Make yourselves at home.” And when he said this, they got a whiff of a real, genuine fraternity house on a Sunday night—a mixture of beer yeast, disinfectant, chewing tobacco, vomit, and perhaps even the faint odor of mildew. No one seemed to notice this but Shamiso.
“You guys have a seat in the party room—I mean the guest area,” he corrected himself sarcastically, “and I’ll fetch you all some drinks. Five minutes tops. I’ll bring down some of the bro’s to meet you...then we’ll skedaddle over to the bus terminal. Groovy?”
Ozzie was so charmed, he could only wave the young man off with a sweeping gesture as if to say, “sure, we’ll just wait right here.” Shamiso, however, continued glaring at the young fellow suspiciously, with a look on her face as if to say, “Is ’ee taking the Mickey?” Young-Min wasn’t buying it one bit either. He’d added it up in his head. It all seemed too easy. Too coincidental. Too convenient the way they’d “happened” upon this youngster at the car rental agency. Too much like a setup.
In fact, after the young frat boy left the room, Young-Min gave Shamiso a long, concerned look, then followed after him. Shamiso then looked at Ozzie. She gave him a head bob to one side, to indicate he should go with him. Ozzie did, realizing their notoriously perceptive shipmate might be onto something.
He was. Young-Min followed the frat boy from a safe distance and eventually saw him step inside a large public bathroom down the hall. And as the door closed slowly behind the kid, Young-Min carefully pushed it back open—once he heard a stall door closing and latching.
“Funny that the kid would stop off to take a dump before filling our drink orders, huh?” he mumbled to himself. But then he detected the shadow of a large figure approaching from behind him. It was Ozzie. Young-Min looked up at the big fellow and shook his head calmly, an icy expression forming on his face. He could see Ozzie was beginning to get the picture. Subsequently the two men crept into the bathroom, and soon they could hear the young man talking—to someone—from the toilet.
“Yeah, uh...it’s Tooth Fairy...I got ’em. They’re in my frat house...near campus...back in Ann Arbor. I’ll keep ’em busy for twenty, thirty minutes tops. Then I’m takin’ ’em to the bus terminal. Text me when—” WHAM!
By then Ozzie was already kicking in the stall door. A couple of frat boys who’d been using the showers ran over to see what the racket was, then promptly grabbed their towels and left. A young girl who’d apparently been showering with them ran out shortly thereafter. She grabbed up her clothes and bra then sprinted out the door, stark naked.
“GIVE ME THAT!” Ozzie snarled, and the young fellow was so petrified at the sight of big Ozzie Guerrero glaring down at him, looking like he’d tear him limb from limb, that he quickly unfastened his DICE and handed it over.
“HERE...HERE! TAKE IT! I SWEAR MAN...I
WAS ONLY VOICE TEXTING. I HADN’T EVEN SENT IT YET! I SWEAR TO GOD MAN! PLEASE!” The youngster was so terrified his voice sounded like a squealing pig.
Ozzie yanked it away then handed the phone to Young-Min to have him verify this. He promptly did so, then erased the message and turned off the device. Next, he opened the back of it and removed the battery, shoving it into his pocket for good measure. Ozzie meanwhile lifted the kid up by the collar of his University of Michigan T-shirt and pressed him against the bathroom wall.
“Alright, fucker. Start talkin’!” he growled through gritted teeth. “Who are you and who the fuck were you texting?” The young man explained everything quickly, practically peeing his pants he was so frightened. Ozzie was so big and powerful he nearly held the youngster off the ground. The youth was standing on his tiptoes nearly the whole time he spoke.
Seemed he worked for a drug dealer in town, he claimed, who’d never been identified by name—just a handle or nickname basically. And the young fellow’s moniker...“Tooth Fairy”...was one he’d come up with for himself to do business under. His “go-between” had instructed him to go find them in Detroit at a specific car rental place and deliver them to Ann Arbor where “someone” would pick them up. He was to transport them there, and await further instructions...as well as payment.
“That’s all I know, man! I swear! I don’t know nothin’ else!” the young man pleaded breathlessly.
Ozzie debated what to do next. Maybe it was time to call the cops. Get the police involved finally and explain everything to them as best they could. Young-Min talked him out of it though. He was just about done being painfully naïve about their circumstances. It was time to wake up and appreciate their situation for what it really was. Clearly, Zero had called upon one of her operatives near Detroit to help snare them...and this is who they sent. Next time it might not be so obvious.
“What’re we gonna do with him, Bones?” asked Ozzie with a snarl. It looked like he’d snap the kid’s neck right then and there. Probably could have, too, he was so angry. But Young-Min had already decided. He was taking a page from his brother’s own personal handbook, or so it would seem, thinking like his cool-headed identical twin back in Toronto for once.
“BRING HIM,” he stated coldly. That’s all he said, too. Young-Min turned and walked slowly out of the bathroom. Ozzie looked over his shoulder inquisitively, but only for a moment, then pieced it together. He nodded with a sneer. Bring him along? With them? Of course. It made perfect sense...
The boy’s big sedan sat four quite comfortably after all. His DICE had been deactivated. Might as well just throw him into the back seat and drive west—maybe on to Chicago even! Besides, leaving “Tooth Fairy” behind in Ann Arbor was now quite out of the question. He knew far too much.
“Yeah…you’re right Bones,” scoffed Ozzie, turning back to face their prisoner, “We’ve got a car now don’t we?”
Chapter 17
Sidekicks
Ah, the open road. What an experience! It was early fall, rural Michigan, with cornfields off in the distance, and eventually Lake Michigan itself looming somewhere in the infinite darkness off to the right.
Ozzie drove all evening, until by 22:00 hours the battery in the car finally ran down. As the car began losing power, and wasn’t responding quickly...as the display lights on his dashboard dimmed, and a flashing symbol of a battery beamed with a red intermittent glow...he eventually decided to wake up his sleeping passenger, now referred to collectively by his handle “Tooth Fairy”.
“Hey Tooth Fairy, wake up,” said Ozzie, backhanding his arm. Tooth Fairy slowly awakened. He’d been forced by the group to ride shotgun and guide them to Chicago, after being caught red-handed in the bathroom trying to turn them in to Zero...
* * * *
At the frat house, he’d tried claiming he had no idea who she was—kept swearing repeatedly that he really was “a student at U of M”—really did go to college there, only he was putting himself through school by selling drugs to students. “Harmless”...in his view anyway.
Of course, he’d had to do some serious explaining to Shamiso as well, when Ozzie had hauled him downstairs to the lobby—and when Young-Min Jo had passed by telling her what they’d discovered him doing in the bathroom. Frankly, as scared as he’d been of Ozzie, Shamiso was even more frightening when confronting him.
“You bloody chav...’ew the fuck do you think you are?” she’d berated him—startling the other students passing through the entryway. “Selling us out were you? For what? A few hundred Euros maybe? ’Ew do you work for?!”
Once again, all he could explain was that he worked for something called “the organization” and the guy he bought drugs from, a guy nicknamed “Riff-Raff”, was someone he’d never known much about. Riff-Raff always wore some form of disguise, he also said, and never revealed his real name. She was quite baffled by that.
“You really expect us to believe that, dickhead?!” All the guy could do then was plead with her not to kill him on the spot.
“I swear lady. Seriously. It’s the God’s-honest-truth. They texted me...I mean Riff-Raff did...and told me I had to come pick you guys up in Detroit. Said it was Ranger Guerrero and a couple of his friends. That’s all they told me!”
Shamiso wasn’t buying it. “’Ew’s they? You keep saying THEY,” she observed.
The youngster was adamant though. “Please lady, ya’ gotta believe me. They just text me when they want something done...when I’m supposed to pick up something. Where to pick it up. Shit like that. Then when I go, it’s this guy Riff-Raff who meets me. That’s all I know. Except today, they made me do this. It’s all I can tell you, I swear!”
Young-Min was unimpressed. “Never mind all that bullshit...tooth fairy...you just tell Ozzie how to get back on the highway headed west. We think we got a pretty clear picture ’bout my brother’s operations by now.” By then Ozzie was hauling the kid by the shirt collar out of the fraternity house to the car. But when the fellow hesitated, not really sure which road to take to the freeway, Shamiso gave him a harsh reminder. “Do what ’ee says, maggot. I’m fucking serious. If Ozzie up ’n decides ’ee wants to kill you, there’s not much any of us can do to stop ’im.”
Hearing that, the young man innocently asked, “Wait...who’s Ozzie?”
“That’s me, buddy,” snapped Ozzie. “And no, I ain’t Ranger Guerrero. I’m Oswaldo Guerrero, his twin brother.”
Shamiso then clarified, “That’s right. ’Eez Ensign Oswaldo Guerrero from Space Programme. Discoverer of the Great Kapteyn Sea. Explorer of the known galaxy. Astronaut. Damn good one, too. We all are. I’m Ensign Shamiso Kachote. Me twin sister is Rudo Love. This fine gentleman next to me is Ensign Young-Min Jo...’an ’eez the twin brother of Kwang-Min Jo, CEO of Min-Pharma Corporation.”
“And apparently, Riff-Raff’s boss as well,” observed Young-Min Jo, regarding Kwang-Min’s apparent connection to this low-level drug dealer who was putting himself through college by selling amphetamines like Adderall and Ritalin to fellow students. “Are you guys beginning to get the picture?” he continued, now addressing everyone. “I think my brother’s network, as Zero called it, reaches all the way down to common drug dealers on the street.”
Everyone sighed and shook their heads for a moment. Then Tooth Fairy broke the silence by asking naively, “Okay…then uh...if you don’t mind me askin’...who’s Zero?” Shamiso, now realizing how all this might have come together, replied bluntly, “likely the bitch who texted Riff-Raff ’bout sendin’ you to Detroit lookin’ for us...”
* * * *
“Whuh?”— groan—“What’s up man?” replied Tooth Fairy—groggily. He’d drank three beers earlier from the mostly empty twelve-pack. Ozzie had consumed one. Shamiso tried a sip but shunned it immediately. It tasted like she’d just licked the inside of an athletic shoe. Young-Min had enjoyed the fifth by himself, and for the past hour, he’d been asleep.
“This here car ’o yours, buddy. It’
s losin’ power ’r somethin’. I don’t know what’s happenin’. What’s all these flashin’ lights? Low battery? How? What’d I do ta’ cause that?”
Poor Ozzie. He had no idea about solar cars, or what happened when you drove them at night for extended periods of time. It almost made Tooth Fairy chuckle when he realized Ozzie’s predicament.
“Man, you guys were serious then...about all that space travel shit, huh?” slurred Tooth Fairy with a surprised tone as he woke up. He was referring to an earlier conversation, where Ozzie had calmly explained to him they’d been astronauts onboard the famed Santa Maria, and had been gone for many years in space. Left Earth when they were ten. That was before he’d fallen asleep—after swilling three beers in rapid succession.
“You need to stop at a charging station, bro’,” he then added, sleepily. Ozzie still looked around confused, as the car began slowing along the highway, and he kept pumping the accelerator, starting to panic. “It’s no big deal, man,” said Tooth Fairy soothingly. “You’re in luck...look...there’s a charging station at that next exit.” They were right then cruising through the city of Gary, Indiana, approaching the bright lights of Chicago off in the distance.
“Charging station?” asked Ozzie.
Yes, charging station. With the banning of any new mass-produced internal combustion engines seventy-five years earlier, most fuel-burning cars and trucks had disappeared from North American roads by the 2080’s. Ozzie couldn’t have known this. Moreover, he’d only ever driven during the day—when his car was constantly being recharged from the rays of the sun. Driving at night was different though. That’s why they had “charging stations” located throughout cities and along highways.
