by Alan Janney
“Well hello there stranger!” Natalie North bubbled into the phone.
“I need a favor.”
“Anything,” she said. “Come over.”
“I need you to call the Channel Four news station and tell them I’m about to contact them. They don’t believe it’s me.”
“How do I know it really is you unless you come over?” she teased.
“Natalie!” I yelled at her.
“Okay okay!” she squeaked. “I’ll call them. If they don’t believe me then I’ll have my agent yell at them. Give me three minutes.”
“Thank you.”
“Come over when you’re done?” she asked.
“No. Maybe. Isn’t it a school night for you? Nevermind. I can’t. Well, maybe. Just call.”
I drove around a ritzy shopping mall for five minutes, which should give Natalie plenty of time, and then called Channel Four again.
“Channel Four News,” said a shaky voice.
“Believe me now?” I asked, perhaps a little too hotly.
“Yes sir, and I’m sorry about that, sir.”
“No problem,” I grinned inside my helmet.
“I have Teresa Triplett waiting for you.”
“Great! Put me through.”
“One more thing, sir. Miss Natalie North asked me to give you a message. She wants you to come visit later.”
I sighed and said, “Please don’t repeat that to anyone. And put me through to Teresa.”
I told Teresa Triplett to keep this a secret but she didn't. I was hiding on one of the L.A. Times’ lower roofs, well before our rendezvous, and I spied three cameramen sneaking around. They remained far enough away from our meeting location (the very top of the building, under the flag pole) that I didn’t worry about them.
Now I had to figure out what I wanted to say…
…and then I woke up. I yawned, shook my head and looked around. I hate it when that happened. Without warning, boom! Knocked out.
I glanced at my watch. Whoops! I’m late. I yanked the mask up from around my neck, tied on the bandana and JUMPED! I sailed into the black sky and over the uppermost roof of the many tiered building. I didn’t blame Samantha Gear for being jealous; this was awesome. I plummeted down and landed beside the dark, still form of Teresa Triplett. She jumped and gasped, which was wonderfully gratifying.
While I stifled another yawn, she looked around wild-eyed, searching for something to say. She had interviewed Chase Jackson once, before the previous football season, so I kind of knew her. She was pretty and seemed much more confident when I used to be a normal seventeen year old.
“Hello,” she said finally. I nodded in reply because I didn’t know how to start and also because I’d discovered people expected me to be quiet. “So why’d you choose me?”
“What do you mean?” I growled at her.
“Why do you want to talk to me?” she asked and her voice was shaky. I suppose this was an intense experience for her, meeting on the roof of a tall building in the middle of the night with guy in a mask. “Instead of other more famous reporters?”
“Oh,” I shrugged. “I don’t know that many reporters. And you seem nice.”
“How’d you get up here? Do you have abilities that I don’t have? That question sounds absurd, even to my ears,” she said. I frowned, wondering how I could phrase this, debating how much I could reveal to her. She continued, “Did you fly up here? Like a superhero?”
“No,” I chuckled. “That’s hilarious. No. There’s no such thing as super heroes. In fact, I’m sick.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I’m very sick, and it’s possibly fatal,” I said and I decided not to elaborate. Carter was going to be pissed enough already.
“Fatal?” she asked, writing things down on her notepad. I’m sure she was recording the conversation too. “With what illness?”
“Nevermind,” I said, dropping my voice to a deep growl again. “Shouldn’t have said anything. That’s not why I’m here.”
“Then why are you here?”
“I want you to pass along a message.”
“To who?” she asked, looking mystified.
“To everyone.”
“What message?”
At that instant the bluetooth headset in my ear blared to life. I didn’t even answer it; the device just turned on somehow. The very distinguishable voice of PuckDaddy yelled, “You fool! You idiot! What are you doing?”
I didn’t say anything to either of them. I stared into space. This was it. I was crossing some sort of threshold from which there could be no return. I was making powerful enemies.
“Chase. Outlaw. Just stop. Abort. Don’t do this. You’re dead if you do. Seriously, stupid. Carter will waste you for sure,” PuckDaddy said.
“Are you okay?” she asked. “Is something wrong? What message?”
“Outlaw. No way. Don’t. Cancel, cancel,” in my ear.
I took a deep breath and told Teresa, “I’m not the only one.”
“Oh no,” PuckDaddy groaned. “You’re toast. Damn it. So dumb. You’re dead.”
“You’re what?” Teresa Triplett asked, leaning towards me.
“There are others,” I said, stronger. This felt…correct. This was good. I was doing the right thing. “There are others like me. And they are already here. Lots of them. In Los Angeles. And we’re all in danger.”
PuckDaddy sighed loudly.
“Wow, okay,” Teresa babbled. “You mean, they can jump like you? We have video of you flying or jumping or… something.”
“Yes. And other things.”
“Like what kind of other things?” she asked. She was no longer taking notes, simply staring intently, urgently.
“Anything a human can do, they can do much much better. And some of them are not nice.”
“Who are they?”
“They are hidden, living in the shadows. I don’t know their real names, but I can tell you that one of them is called the Chemist,” I said, emboldened by the truth.
“The Chemist? The gang leader in south Los Angeles?”
“Right. I’m still learning too. But I believe the Chemist and his army will revolt soon, and our law enforcement agencies need to be ready.”
“Ready for what?” she asked.
“War. In our streets.”
“Wait!” she cried as I turned to go. “This…this is a lot to absorb. Do you have to leave?”
“Yes.”
“What you just said is insane. You want to warn the city but all this is…impossible. How can this be true?”
“You’ll have to trust me,” I said simply. “Will you help us? If there’s a war in our city?”
“Of course.”
I jumped into the clouds.
“You should have consulted with me first,” PuckDaddy scolded as I walked south on Alameda. My mask was stowed in my pocket.
“You’d have just warned me not to.”
“Affirmative. Now listen close. This is the last time we’re ever going to communicate. Otherwise I’m dead too. You can’t return home.”
“I bet Carter bugged my room,” I said.
“Your room’s been bugged for two months, dummy. He’ll kill you tonight in your sleep. Go somewhere else. Off grid. Forever. Don’t go back to school. Move far away and burn your phones. Both phones. Turn off the wifi on your bike. I can’t track you if you disappear. Live in a desert. Okay?”
“This isn’t goodbye, Puck,” I laughed. “Once the war starts, Carter will realize that I’m on his side.”
“You’ll be dead by then, Outlaw. I’m sorry.”
“Talk to you soon, buddy.”
“No. You won’t. PuckDaddy out.” Click. The line went dead.
I smiled, shook my head, and called Natalie North.
“Yeeeees?” she said.
“Hey. I’m downstairs in your lobby and I need to hide for a while. And it can’t be in your building. Help me find a place?”
“Funny
you should mention that. I have just the spot,” she said. “But it’s not ready yet. I need a few more days.”
“Meet me down here in five minutes. And bring some food, I’m starving.”
Then I turned off the Outlaw’s phone, perhaps for the last time.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Friday, March 3. 2018
Katie
“Has Tank texted you yet?” Hannah Walker asked. We were sitting together at our usual table, heads together conspiratorially. It was great! I think authentic friendship with another girl was so novel to both of us that we might be over-indulging in it. I missed sitting with my guys, but Chase wasn’t here today anyway. Neither was Samantha Gear. Chase had been absent yesterday too and he wasn’t answering my texts. School was no fun without him.
“No,” I admitted.
“Katie! Do you see? That’s so messed up of him!” Hannah said with surprising vigor. “Boys are the worst.”
“They ARE the worst! Ugh. Besides-”
“He can’t just show up, make out, and then not call you. You’re Katie Lopez, gorgeous Latina and our future valedictorian. You’re not some booty call.” Hannah was indignant.
“I think I’m going to call things off with him,” I sighed. “We just live on different planets.”
“No. I have a better idea,” she said and her eyebrows arched in victory.
“What?”
“We’re going to spy on him.”
“No!” I laughed. “No way. I’m not a stalker.”
“Please!” she said. “It’ll be fun! We’re not stalkers. We’ll be like investigators. You know where he lives. Tonight is Friday night and we’re not doing anything-”
“Because we’re lame,” I chimed in.
“Because we’re lame and our boyfriends hate us,” she agreed. “But he’ll probably go out tonight and we can follow him. We can determine if he’s dating other girls too.”
“Wow…I think I’d rather not know.”
“No. This is great. I’m picking you up at four. We want to get there early before he leaves his house.” I could tell she was gathering steam and I wasn’t going to talk her out of this. Besides, I guess this was better than sitting at home on a Friday night?
“He lives in a condo. Not a house.”
“Whatever, shut up, people in the city are weird. It’ll be fun!”
Hannah Walker’s car is as gorgeous as she is but she drives like a woman possessed. I held my breath for a two-mile stretch on Interstate 5 while she battled and cursed at a delivery truck! We missed our exit so she roared to the San Bernadino Freeway at almost a hundred miles per hour to make up the time. Miraculously, a parking spot was available within sight of his building’s entrance. I had ten dollars in quarters to feed the meter, which would buy us three hours.
“I wish there was some way to know that he’s here,” she complained after half an hour of waiting, and she hit the steering wheel in frustration. Her speakers were LOUD and she was alternating between pop and country music. “What if he’s out already? Or gone for the weekend?”
“I’ll text him!”
“Good idea!”
“But…I don’t want to lie. I feel skeezy enough as it is,” I said.
“You’re not being skeezy, you’re just verifying that you’ve made a good investment of your time. Text him,” she ordered.
Hey Tank! Miss you! Hope you have a good Friday night. I’ve got plans, but I hope to see you soon. Are you doing anything fun?
“Hah! Nice. You’re telling him the truth, too!” she said. He didn’t reply immediately, which frustrated and saddened me. Chase always texted me back instantly. Well, almost always.
Hannah ordered us sandwiches and mochas and had them delivered directly to our car. I didn’t even know you could do that! She paid with her mom’s credit card. We ate in silence for the next ten minutes while I enviously wished my mother was rich.
“Hey,” I said around a bite of chicken salad sandwich. “Hey! I think that’s Natalie North!”
“Who?”
“The actress! I forgot this is her building too. She and Tank both have condos here. Right there!” I pointed with my pinky while holding the coffee. This was REALLY exciting! I loved Natalie North, and she even hugged me once. She and some guy walked into her building with their heads down.
“Oh right. Her. She’s not even pretty,” Hannah sniffed.
“You’re crazy. She’s the best. Do you think that’s her? She’s wearing that hoodie so no one recognizes her, I bet. Who do you think is with her? I can’t tell but he’s probably famous.”
“Who cares,” she groaned. “Calm down.”
Natalie and the guy quickly disappeared into the building. Ten long minutes later she emerged alone and walked westward. Hannah absolutely forbade me from chasing her down for a picture. She even locked the doors!
I was beginning to get angry when Tank texted.
>>…Nothing fun tonight. Business to take care of. Been in bed sick for about a week. Feeling better. Let’s do something fun soon. You pick, my treat.
I showed Hannah the message.
“Aw. That’s kind of sweet,” she said. “Maybe.”
“Right? A little. It’s hard to tell. Boys speak in caveman language, which is hard to decode.”
“Business. Business on a Friday night? What’s he talking about?” Hannah asked.
“I have no idea. I know very little about him.”
We stewed and plotted and giggled for the next thirty minutes, and then Hannah said, “Wait. Is that…isn’t that Tank right there?”
“Where??”
She pointed away from the building and towards the traffic light. “There. In the green Hummer. It looks like him. I think.”
“It is him! How’d he get past us?”
“I don’t know!” She started the car and violently swerved into the street. “Keep an eye on his truck so we don’t lose him.”
“Of course!” I said. “I know what happened. I bet his building has an underground garage. He didn’t exit through the doors, he exited through the garage.”
“You’re right. You’re so right,” she said and she gunned the engine to beat a red light.
Tank drove due south through the Fashion District and out of Downtown. Hannah was a pro, tailing him from two or three cars away. He snuck through a few traffic lights but she always caught up. We followed him through Huntington Park and into South Gate. We risked pulling up parallel to him once while I cowered in the passenger seat. Hannah paced him long enough to determine conclusively that he was alone before dropping back to a safe distance again. This was fun!
We left the towers and the money behind, and we entered neighborhoods. The closer we got to Compton the lower the value of the houses and businesses dropped. Gangs of guys lounged on porches or packed themselves around someone’s car. The groups were either entirely black or entirely hispanic.
“This place is disgusting,” Hannah sneered. She fished in the backseat for hats or something else for us to wear. She thought we looked too good.
“No it’s not. It’s just different.”
“Don’t be naive, sweetie. These people are trash.”
“They aren’t trash,” I scolded her. “They just don’t have as much as we do. It’s not their fault.”
“I’m sorry, Katie. I know you’re latin american, so you might empathize with them, but these people are nothing like you. They’re gross. They just suck up tax money.”
Tank’s journey started getting exceedingly strange. He would park near a corner and do…nothing. No one came to meet him. He didn’t get out of his Hummer. And then he’d drive on. We tailed him from a block behind or from a parallel street, always precisely within our line-of-sight limit. He spent five minutes in one place before moving a mile farther south and did it again. Over and over. He started to zigzag, heading east for several miles, and then back west again. I monitored our progress using the map on my phone as we drove deeper into Compto
n.
“It’s like he’s searching for something and wants to cover as much ground as possible,” I observed.
“But what’s he looking for,” Hannah yawned. We’d been on his trail for two hours now, and it was almost nine o’clock. We weren’t tired as much as we were bored. Nothing was happening. “I don’t think he’s cheating on you, babe. I don’t know what the guy is doing in this part of town but he didn’t drive straight to some girl’s house.”
“Yeah,” I sighed.
“He’s got a lot of income property, right? Maybe he’s just…checking up on his houses? He told us he needed to take care of business.”
“Maybe, but…this feels like a scavenger hunt or a search. Looking for something or someone or…I don’t know.” I’d said that exact sentence several times during the previous hour. He was parked fifty yards ahead of us near a dimly lit gas station. His brake lights were on and so was his interior dome light. Hannah needed gas but she wasn’t about to stop around here. She’d run it down to empty and then have us towed before she got out of the car. “Let’s go home.”
“Really? You want to?” Hannah asked.
“Yeah. Get us out of here. I’m not convinced he’s worth all this work in the first place,” I said. It was true; I’d been thinking about Chase half the night.
“You got it. We are gone.”
She pulled onto the Harbor Freeway and we left the scary neighborhoods behind, safe in our warm and cozy luxury sports car. I was glad my mother had gone to college and become a teacher. Our neighborhood was much nicer, even if we were the poorest family there. I didn’t blame these people for revolting against a new law that would make their lives even more difficult.
“This is ridiculous,” Hannah shouted. I shook out of my reverie and looked up. We were deadlocked in a sudden traffic jam. “All these stupid eighteen-wheelers came out of nowhere. We’re at the turnoff to 105 and I was going to exit, but ugh. Now we’re stuck.”
“Must be an accident ahead.” Our view was cut off. A giant tractor-trailer sat idling in front of us. Another one was beside us. Both were oil tankers. I could see a city bus parked in the mirror.
