Never Too Far

by Christopher, Thomas

  Chapter 34

  Downstairs, he opened the door and made sure not to lock it when he closed it. He even opened it again to be certain. Hopefully, when he got back, it would still be unlocked. If not, he could climb up on the side roof below their window and get back in the room that way.

  Out in the street, he stood next to a hole in the uneven cobblestones. It was half full of muddy water. Across the street a few people sat on their stoops. There was a sulfuric smell in the air. A woman held a handkerchief to her mouth. A few pickup wagons rolled past and a car buggy pulled by two horses.

  Joe kept to the side of the street as he walked toward the Fulfillment District. If there was any food to be had, it had to be there. Ahead of him, the bright lights blinked blue and red and yellow. They could almost be beautiful, if not for the fact that they were luring people in like flies.

  Soon enough he was back along those seedy streets. He pushed through the crowd, barely able to stomach the stench of rotten sweat and sour vomit. He held his breath and endured the shoves and curses from the men he bumped into. As he passed the patio of a brothel, a strumpet painted like a clown spotted him and cooed to the others: “There’s a young one, girls. Mmmm, ripe and fresh. Come here, boy. I’ll take you for free.” They laughed and called to him. One of them reached out and grabbed Joe by the arm. She yanked him against her body and shoved his face in her powdered bosom. He managed to tear himself away and tumbled into a crowd that erupted into hoots of laughter.

  When he recovered himself, he peeked inside the door of a noisy bar. On a stage, a three-piece band played as topless women flounced and danced around in skirts. The rest of the big room was filled with tables of both men and women who were all drinking, smoking, and shouting. The air was clouded with white smoke.

  A few doors down, he stepped inside a place that didn’t seem as rowdy as the others. Matter of fact, it was fairly quiet. It was the Braun Theater. People sat around tables laden with empty dinner plates and leftover food. That was a good sign, no doubt. The crowd, however, was looking off to the right, so Joe craned his neck around a pillar to see what everyone was staring at.

  On a stage was a scene set in a forest with ribbons of fire in the center. On a platform stood a priest wearing a feathered headdress and a snake around his neck. Off to the side were bare-chested men beating on drums. Scattered about the stage were fallen girls who were completely nude and covered in blood. Standing above them were even more nude girls, only they had daggers in their hands. At first, Joe was horrified because he thought they really stabbed them, but then he realized they were only pretending. It was a show, and the blood was fake, not real.

  A voice behind Joe made him jump.

  “You like the show?”

  Joe felt embarrassed. He wanted to get out of there quickly, especially since he knew he was wasting time in finding food for Mary.

  “Pardon me,” the man said. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “You didn’t scare me.”

  Joe was about to slip out of the theater and keep searching for someplace that might be selling food when he got a good look at the man. He was taken aback by what he saw. The man looked almost exactly like the man in the fedora hat that he saw on television. He had the same half-smirk, half-grin on his face, and the same brown eyes that shimmered like he knew a secret you wanted to know.

  “I can see you’re not from around here,” the man said.

  “Don’t call me a dirt-eater,” Joe said.

  “I won’t. My name’s Phil, by the way. My great grandfather was a plainsman.” Plainsman, Joe liked the sound of that. “But he left shortly after the power grids went down out there and they first outlawed oil.”

  “That was a long time ago.”

  Phil chuckled. “Yes. Things have changed since then. Gotten worse, I hear. Is that why you’re here? Your family has moved to the city?”

  “No,” Joe said.

  Phil adjusted his hat, shifted his weight a little, and balled his fists in the pockets of his jacket. Inside his lapels he wore a red tie knotted at his neck.

  “I’m here because my girl is breech,” Joe said. He remembered to stick to his story. “When she gives birth, we’re going back. She’s really hungry. I need to find some food. Do you know where I can get some?”

  “Certainly, I’ll buy you whatever you want.”

  Joe almost said yes right away because the offer was too tempting and he wouldn’t have to spend any money or rifle shells. The problem was he had a queer feeling about this guy. Even so, he thought he’d be a fool not to at least follow the guy to where there was some food. He would just have to be careful. That’s all. At the first sign of trouble, he’d simply run.

  “I can pay for it, just show me where to go.”

  “A man of pride, I see.”

  Joe followed Phil down a side street off the crowded Fulfillment District. Moments later, they entered some kind of market with stalls and storefronts that lined the street of medium-sized buildings. It smelled of ripe sweat and fried meat. On top of some of the buildings were heliports where government officials and the wealthy docked their helicrafts.

  The market below bustled with all sorts of different people. Men and women shouted and gestured at each other as if they were trying to outdo one another. Some were dressed in rags, scuttling about or scavenging for anything dropped or discarded. A woman, who had a flattened nose that looked punched in, snatched an apple core that someone tossed. She shoved it whole into her mouth and then smiled as if she couldn’t believe her incredible fortune. Then there was a man and a woman in fancy clothes. The woman, who wore an elaborate hat, was looking over a table of jewelry and strings of what appeared to be teeth or perhaps small bones. They each had cloth masks over their mouths. As the woman examined a necklace, the man kept looking around as if expecting someone.

  Other stalls and shops sold beaten-up appliances, televisions, radios, computers, mobicoms, and other gadgets that Joe had never seen before. There were also displays of organ scaffolds and exoskeletons. Storefronts proclaimed services for gene mapping, modification, and splicing, as well as fresh replacement organs. Stores sold live animal cells and stem cells. Pet shops sold exotic hybrids like flying cats and miniature chimps with human vocal cords, while other places carried drugs for physical and mental enhancement.

  To Joe, it was all a blur of bizarre things he barely understood or wanted to understand.

  “Stay close to me,” Phil said.

  It wasn’t hard to keep up with him because Phil walked very leisurely. He sidestepped people who suddenly appeared in his way. He said, “Pardon me” as he shuffled around a clot of people who were blocking his path. Joe kept smelling food from restaurants and vendors and wondered why they weren’t stopping. They passed close by a cart strung with the dead carcasses of birds, rats, rabbits, and spotted hogs, which apparently Phil didn’t see because he didn’t stop, so Joe grabbed his sleeve.

  “Hey,” Joe said. “There’s food right here.”

  “That’s no good,” Phil said. “I know where you can get food at a good price. It’s up ahead.”

  What Joe saw around the corner didn’t make him feel very confident. The street was more like an alley, dark and deserted. Along the center of the cracked and crumbled cobblestones was a stream of slimy water, and along the edges were heaps of moldering garbage against the sides of the black buildings. Near the end of the street, on the right hand side, was a faint halo of ruddy light.

  “I don’t see anything down there,” Joe said.

  “See that light? That’s it. The best biscuits in the whole city.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Come now. Trust me.”

  That was the problem. The queer feeling from earlier got worse. He knew this was a bad idea. He could hear Frank saying, “If you feel afraid, be afraid.” Only he doubted himself. He wasn’t sure the queer feeling was fear. Maybe it was just nerves, or maybe it was hunger. After all, if Phil was right
, Joe would get the food he needed for Mary and the baby. He was sure he could escape if he had to. Just a little bit further, he thought.

  Halfway down the squalid street, Joe saw two pairs of feet wrapped in rags sticking out of a wood crate between mounds of trash. The sight startled him and he slipped on the slick cobblestones and stepped into the slimy stream of water.

  “You okay?” Phil asked.

  “Somebody’s there,” Joe said.

  “They’re dead. Keep going.”

  “How do you know they’re dead?”

  “They’re dead. They’re urchins. Don’t waste your time. They might as well be dead. Come on.”

  Up the dark street, Joe heard voices. Two stumbling figures appeared like shadows against the dim light shining from the street behind them. Water splashed and a tin can clunked on the ground. The two men passed under the glow of the ruddy light in the alley. They wore thick wool caps and frayed jackets with no shirts underneath. Their pants were ripped and tattered at the ends and one man, who appeared drunker than the other, was missing a shoe. He laughed and staggered to his knees. The other man fumbled for him and finally caught hold of his collar and yanked him to his feet.

  “They might be faking it,” Phil said. “They might want us to think they’re drunk, so they can rob us. Slow down. Stay close to me.”

  Phil grabbed Joe’s arm and they practically came to a halt as they waited for the drunken men to pass safely by.

  “You can never be too careful,” Phil said. But in the next moment, he said, “Did you hear that?”

  Joe perked up his ears and tried to listen for any unusual sounds. He didn’t hear anything. He looked behind him. The drunken men were out of sight now. He looked at the ruddy light shining ahead where Phil said the biscuits where at. He didn’t see anything strange up there either.

  “I thought I heard the sound of an Arbyter.” Phil looked around. “They might be conducting a sweep. Over here,” he said. “There’s a place to hide.”

  Phil latched onto Joe, and before Joe knew what happened or even had a chance to protest, Phil pulled him into a dark entryway. He felt Phil’s warm breath next to his ear, and then something wet, like the first raindrops to fall before a storm. Joe went to wipe it away, but his hand brushed against Phil’s lips.

  Phil breathed heavily. He seized Joe’s hand and pressed his lips to Joe’s knuckles.

  “Stop,” Joe said. He tried to rip his hand free. “What are you doing?”

  Phil clenched Joe’s wrist with one hand while he wedged his forearm against Joe’s throat. The back of Joe’s head grated on the brick wall behind him. He didn’t understand what was happening. Then Phil released his wrist, and Joe tried to shove him away, only Phil slammed into him and jammed his hand down into Joe’s pants.

  “Stop,” Joe tried to shout.

  Then Joe swung his foot up in the air as hard as he could and slammed it right between Phil’s legs. Phil let go, stumbled backwards, and doubled over. He groaned and gasped for breath. When Joe saw him fall, he didn’t waste any time. He whipped around the corner, slipping on the wet stones before he was able to catch his footing again.

  He ran several blocks, turning down different dark streets, until he finally slowed to a stop and looked behind him. Phil wasn’t there. Joe ducked into a tight crevice between two buildings. He bent over at the waist and braced his hands against his knees. His chest was heaving like something alive was in it. He couldn’t catch his breath, and he thought he was going to vomit. Then his stomach convulsed. It felt like it was turning inside out and it was going to punch through his throat and out his mouth. A moment later he retched, but all that came out was stringy liquid. Nothing solid came out because nothing solid was in his stomach.

  Chapter 35

  He must’ve taken a wrong turn somewhere because now he was lost. Earlier, he’d found a house where a slender woman lived. She took mercy on him but at a price. She ended up selling Joe two sausages and half a loaf of bread for his ten shekels. That was all the money they had left. He didn’t know if it was a good deal or not, but at that point he didn’t care. He simply wanted to get some food, any food, and get back to Mary as soon as possible.

  After he got the food, he tried to find his way back to the rooming house using back ways to avoid the Fulfillment District. However, the more he tried to navigate the streets, the more disoriented he got, especially when another rolling blackout came and the streetlights went out. In time he reached the river, even though he didn’t know how. He climbed up a bank littered with trash and found a bench beside a scraggly tree. Across the river in the slums were flashes of orange light from small campfires. Joe looked over his shoulder, where the city lay in darkness, except for the Green Zone, where the tall buildings still shined with lights. Apparently not everyone lost power in a blackout.

  From the corner of his eye, Joe caught a glint of something. Coming up the river was a boat shining a searchlight around in a circle. It sprayed the dark water and the jagged rooftops of the slums. Joe hid behind the tree and watched the boat slowly approach. He made sure to keep out of sight when the searchlight swung past and splashed the ground around him.

  As the boat cruised closer, Joe saw the large cannon mounted on the deck and the tall tower with small yellow windows and a thick blade spinning on top. On the side was the ever-present symbol of the Guardian Party. Joe watched as the searchlight swept across the girders of the bridge in the distance. That’s what he wanted to see. He knew if he could get to the bridge, he could follow the streets that they had been on the first day and retrace his way to the rooming house, where he knew, by now, Mary must be panicky because he wasn’t back yet.

  Along the riverbanks, Joe skirted around some piles of debris. He kept to the banks to avoid running into anyone, especially policemen or soldiers in armored Arbyters. But that became too difficult. He kept slipping and falling and stepping in mush and muck. So he decided to abandon the relative safety of the riverbanks. He scrambled down to the dark street, which turned out to be a bad idea.

  A white light exploded in front of him. It stung his eyes and made him stagger to his knees as if someone had struck him. He kept his head buried in the crook of his arm to block out the searing light. Then someone yanked him to his feet by his collar and dragged him to the back of an enclosed truck. Black spots kept blooming and spinning in front of his eyes. Only on the periphery could he get any sense of what was happening. He heard the clunk of metal and the sound of a heavy door swinging open. He was lifted in the air by his collar and tossed into a mass of bodies that punched and kicked him until he was crushed against the side of a wall between two big bodies that jammed sharp elbows into his ribs.

  The air was stifling hot and smelled of rancid sweat and alcohol. Joe gathered his knees up tight to his chest and clutched them with his arms to make himself as small and hard as possible. No one spoke. The only sounds were belches and farts and coughs. He noticed he was trembling. It was fear, but it was also anger. He was angry with himself for following Phil when his instincts had been telling him all along that it was a bad idea. How stupid could he be? And now look at him. Worst of all, he was angry about how this was going to affect Mary. The longer he was gone, the more afraid she was going to get. He didn’t really care what was going to happen to him. All he could think about was getting back to Mary.

  After a while the truck moved. Bodies slammed against him. The truck jounced and rocked over the rough road. His tailbone smacked against the hard floor and sent a shivery stab of pain up his spine. He still couldn’t see anything. The darkness was too thick. Someone shoved him and dug their hands in his back pockets where the sausages and bread were and then yanked them out.

  “Hey,” Joe said.

  A hand like a vice clamped over his mouth. He couldn’t breathe. Finally, the truck stopped again and the hand let go. The doors swung open and a dim light filled the interior enough that Joe saw a mash of people, both men and woman, turning their faces from
the light, except for those people who had black hoods over their heads.

  Policeman, dressed all in black with shiny gorgets and helmets, jumped into the truck. They began kicking and jabbing people with rifles to move them toward the exit. The bodies seemed to drop out of the back of the truck like bags. Other policemen on the ground shouted instructions and insults. When they reached Joe, he dodged a rifle butt and scurried to the edge of the truck bed where he leapt into a pile of bodies struggling to get to their feet.

  Once again, Joe got shoved to the side. He landed on his arm and then rolled away, but as luck would have it he happened to roll under the truck and out of sight. He lay still for a few seconds, surprised at where he found himself. He thought for sure the policemen would soon find him and jab rifles beneath the truck and shout for him to get out. He watched more bodies hit the ground as policemen grabbed them and hauled them to their feet. All the while no one came after him. In the chaos, no one must’ve seen him go under the truck.

  He realized this could be his chance to escape.

  Flat on his stomach, he squirmed toward the front of the truck. As he moved beneath the engine, he accidentally struck his head against its hot metal. He winced, rubbed the top of his head, and then continued until he was directly below the bumper. The shadow from the truck darkened the street in front of him, but off to the sides there was light glowing along the walls of the building. They were in a narrow street. Joe inched forward a little more.

  Up ahead was the bottom of what looked like an Arbyter. There was enough clearance that he could scamper beneath and then see if it was possible to make a run for it, provided there was nothing on the other side obstructing his way. All he had to do was make it across ten feet of exposed ground without anyone noticing.