Proxy

by Alex London

“Knox, are you—” his father began, but Knox swiped it away without even looking.

  A few more waves through another datastream holo and the window slid open.

  Syd rushed to it.

  “Where will you even go?” Knox asked as he climbed out onto the ledge.

  “Out, beyond. The wastelands. Maybe I will join up with the Rebooters.”

  “You don’t seem like the terrorist type,” said Knox.

  “I don’t know what type I am anymore,” Syd answered. “But I’m not your problem. Thanks for the new ID. But I need to be on my own. You’ve done enough.”

  He stepped outside. A moment later, Knox was right behind him. If his father wanted Syd dead, then Knox wanted the opposite. If his father didn’t want Syd to get to the Rebooters, then that was exactly where they would go. If his father refused to negotiate, Knox would teach him to negotiate. It was time for Knox to show his father exactly what his son was capable of. He was coming with Syd whether his proxy wanted him to or not.

  He handed Syd the antique plastic pen.

  “Grabbed it from your old pants,” he said. “You’re gonna need it.” Then Knox slapped a fake ID patch of his own on, watching it dissolve into his skin.

  “What are you doing?” Syd couldn’t believe his patron was following him.

  Knox threw on a new pair of datastream glasses. A wave of his hands and the window shut. He looked through his glasses at the city’s blinking warnings, the labels on the trees and buildings in the distance, projections of logos rising above their corporate headquarters. The night sky flickered with advos for his new identity, bras and fashion implants, women’s shampoos. Oops. Must have grabbed the wrong patch. Well, it wouldn’t last long anyway.

  He looked down and got a height reading. It was a dizzying number. He took off the glasses. “You are taking me hostage,” he said.

  “I’m not taking you hostage,” Syd replied.

  He looked away, started to inch along the ledge with his back pressed up against the house. He had never stood this high up before. The ground seemed to rise and fall with every breath he took. The city shimmered across the horizon. Its heat bent the air. He realized that he had no idea how he was going to get away from this silent neighborhood, let alone out of the city.

  He hated to admit it, but he needed Knox. If he ran without Knox, he’d be easy to destroy. Having Knox with him gave Syd leverage.

  Through the window beside them, they saw a flash as the bedroom door exploded open. Knox couldn’t believe they’d gone in, even though, as far as they knew, he was Syd’s hostage. Blasting in like that was what you did to end a standoff if you didn’t care whether the hostage lived. Was Knox’s father willing to trade his son’s life for Syd’s? How could Syd possibly matter so much to a man like his dad?

  Syd was thinking the same thing.

  “Fine,” said Syd. “You’re my hostage. Now, how do we get out of here? I don’t think the Guardians are going to fall for an antique pen.”

  “They don’t have to.” Knox didn’t elaborate. “Follow me.”

  And then, without warning, Knox leapt from the ledge and windmilled his arms through the air. He hit the sloping landfill below and rolled.

  Syd swallowed hard and jumped, certain he was going to break every bone in his body.

  [23]

  FOR A MOMENT SYD felt weightless, free, and light. He was flying. The house fell away and the hill raced up toward him. He braced for impact, bent his knees as he hit, and rolled. The grass was soft. He tucked his head to his chest so he didn’t snap his neck. The grass smelled like he’d always imagined the color green would smell, fresh and bright.

  It tasted, however, like pesticide. He spat out sticky blades of it.

  Syd came to a stop at the line of shrubs that marked the edge of the property and Knox yanked him up.

  Knox looked back and saw the Guardian at the window to his room. The plexi slid open and without hesitation, the Guardian jumped.

  “This way,” he said, pulling Syd by the wrist until they were running side by side as fast as they could toward the other side of the house.

  “We’ll never outrun her!” Syd dared a look back as the Guardian hit the ground. She moved with the easy grace of practiced violence. She was built to catch them. This was her nature. She was gaining ground with every stride.

  As they rounded the house, Syd saw five more Guardians coming up the long driveway on foot, all of them holding EMD sticks by their sides. With a high enough setting, an EMD stick could stop your heart with one hit.

  Knox skidded to a stop and Syd slammed into him.

  “I need that antique pen now,” Knox told him.

  “I told you,” Syd panted. “I don’t think the Guardians are going to fall for it.”

  “They don’t have to,” Knox said. “Just give it to me.”

  Syd pulled it out and set in Knox’s palm. The moment the plastic touched his skin, Knox squeezed it tight. He gave Syd a wink and then rushed to the transport parked in front of the house. He pulled the door open and beckoned to Syd.

  “What are you—?” Syd moved toward him, when he felt a punch in the back, like a dozen rusty salvage nails slammed into his spine. He saw the Guardians running at him, one from the direction of the house, the others from the driveway.

  Syd tried to move toward the vehicle, but he stumbled. He told his legs to go but the message never reached them. The ground smacked his cheek. All his muscles tightened. He felt himself writhing on the blacktop driveway, the taste of tar flooding his mouth. He couldn’t control his limbs. They flailed. All he saw was light, painfully bright. He heard Knox shouting, but he couldn’t do anything about it.

  It was not an unfamiliar pain, but familiarity didn’t change how his body responded to it. A high-power hit from an EMD device didn’t care what you thought about it; it fried your nerves without asking your brain for permission first.

  As he curled and shook on the ground, he felt himself lifted up, dragged across the driveway and heaved, still shaking, onto the soft floor of the transport.

  “Hang on,” Knox whispered to him as the door slammed shut and the outside sounds were silent. The floor of the transport was soft and cool on his cheeks.

  Knox hit the manual door lock panel. He threw on the glasses again and hacked the transport’s system as quickly as he could. The engine started. The wheels screeched on the drive as the vehicle took off. The Guardians fired after it, but these executive transports were more secure than most people’s homes. As long as they were inside it and Knox’s hacks held, they were safe.

  “Don’t move,” Knox ordered, but he wasn’t talking to Syd.

  Syd forced his eyes to focus and it looked like Knox was holding the antique pen and pointing to the opposite seat. Syd tilted his head farther back with an agonizing burn that shot from deep in his belly button to the tip of his tongue.

  And he saw Marie, purple eyes shining, jaw hanging open in surprise.

  “Meet your newest hostage, Syd,” said Knox. “I think you already know her name.”

  “Knox, are you glitched?” Marie yelled. Her eyes were fixed on Syd. His hands shook. He couldn’t push himself off the floor.

  The EMD hit had been far too hard for a mere stunning shot. They were trying to stop his heart. He knew spittle was flying from his lips and his tongue felt like a live wire in his mouth, but he had to tell them. “Baram . . . ,” he said, the word hardly coming out. “Warn Baram . . . Valve . . .”

  “What is he saying?” Marie leaned forward.

  “The Valve,” Knox said. “He wants us to go the Valve.”

  “Return immediately!” Knox’s father appeared on a holo. “Surrender now and you will be—”

  Knox swiped it away.

  “Knox?” Marie’s voice again. “We can’t go to the Valve.”

  “You’re our hostage.” Knox waved the pen at her. “You go where we say.”

  Marie leaned back and crossed her arms.

  “Hav
e to warn Baram . . . ,” Syd groaned, but he didn’t have enough control over his tongue to say any more. His head fell against the floor. His vision turned red and he knew he was about to pass out. He hoped the patrons understood him. He hoped they would take him to the Valve. He hoped they wouldn’t just turn him in. He hoped he’d wake and this had all been a dream. He just hoped.

  [24]

  KNOX LEANED BACK ON the soft seats of the transport and let out a long, slow breath.

  His proxy was on the floor at his feet, half awake, twitching every few seconds. Watching Syd’s eyeballs wriggling under his eyelids, sweat beading on his dark forehead, and muscles straining against stray pulses of frying nerves, he realized he’d never seen anyone hit by an EMD burst in person before. He’d seen it happen to Syd in a holo more times than he could count, but in the flesh, no lighting effects, no production values, just a body in pain, was totally different. He couldn’t tear his eyes away.

  “Knox,” Marie said to him, her eyes also fixed on Syd. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”

  Knox looked up at her and clenched his teeth. He thought he’d killed this girl. His skin tingled. He wanted to put his fist through the car window. He wanted to put his fist through her face. He’d never been a violent guy before. He exhaled and tried to relax. He needed to get control of his thoughts.

  He tried to project an image of unimpressed confidence, and ignored her question. In truth, he was far from confident. He’d had his share of crazy nights before. He and Chey and Nine and Simi had a damages bill that would have bankrupted lesser parents than theirs—and Syd had the scars to prove it—but tonight was beyond any trouble he’d ever been in.

  He wasn’t worried about breaking the rules. If you could pay, the rules were yours to break. He was worried that he’d crossed some line where the rules he lived by no longer applied, past where his status, his father’s money, or his charm would do any good. And it was Marie’s fault.

  “You look good for a dead girl,” he said.

  She shrugged but didn’t deign to answer. She didn’t feel the need to explain or justify herself to him. She was nothing like the girl he remembered from before the accident. Her saucy laugh, her mischievous winks. This new Marie was cold.

  “I mean, seriously?” Knox exploded at her, his face flushing red. “What is going on? How are you alive? Why?”

  “Disappointed?” she sneered.

  “You just want to yank me around?”

  “You haven’t even apologized.”

  “Apologized?” Knox couldn’t believe what she was saying. “For what?”

  “For killing me.”

  “Oh, come on!”

  “Seriously,” said Marie. “I had to die because you wanted to get laid and you were careless and you can’t even admit you were wrong and apologize.”

  Knox shook his head. “It was an accident.” The words caught in his throat. “I didn’t mean to—”

  “You really are an idiot.”

  “You knockoff slag!” he snapped. “You wanted an apology and then you spit it back in my face.”

  “This is you apologizing?”

  “Screw you.” They stared at each other in angry silence as the city raced by outside.

  “So what’s the plan, now, Knox?” Marie said. “You’re taking me hostage? For what?”

  “To help Syd get away from my father.”

  “So . . . that’s him?” she said, her eyes fixed on Syd on the floor. “That’s your proxy?”

  “Syd,” Knox repeated.

  “Syd,” Marie repeated to herself, like she was storing it away. She didn’t look afraid. She looked . . . awed. This was not the reaction Knox had expected. Finally, she looked up at Knox. “You realize you’re kidnapping me with an antique plastic writing pen?”

  Knox looked down at the pen. He squeezed it in his hand. She knew. He tossed it aside.

  “I’m still stronger than you.” Knox leaned forward. “I can still hurt you.”

  “No, you can’t,” Marie said and slid a slim silver EMD stick out from beside her on the seat. She rolled it gently between her hands. “If you’re going to take hostages, this is much better protection than a plastic pen.”

  Knox leaned back. He’d screwed up. He’d underestimated Marie. Again. “Don’t do anything crazy, Marie,” he said.

  “Like what? Kill you?”

  Knox nodded. He’d never had a real weapon pointed at him before. He didn’t like the feeling. His clothes felt suddenly thin, his skin too, like all his fragile organs were exposed. The slightest move and she’d fry him.

  “Relax,” she told him. “I’m not going to hurt you. You need my help.”

  “Wait, what?” Knox wiped his palms on his pants legs. “You want to help me?”

  “Not you,” Marie tilted her head toward Syd on the floor. “Him.”

  Knox didn’t have a lot of experience kidnapping girls, but he imagined that they didn’t usually volunteer to help once they realized that your weapon was a bluff. Marie should be screaming and fighting him now, trying to get away. Or at least ordering the transport to go directly to the nearest Guardian control point.

  “I don’t want them to hurt your proxy,” she said. “That was never what I wanted.”

  “He’s my proxy. What do you care?”

  “The problem is that he’s your proxy,” Marie finally said. “Don’t you see how messed up that is?”

  “So you want to set him free or something?” Knox groaned. “You’re doing all this for the Cause?”

  Knox had dated Causegirls before. They were always going on about debt reform and refugee forgiveness and all that Rebooter nonsense. Mostly, they wore political T-shirts. He’d actually dated two of them at once, because he thought it’d be hot the way they matched and the way they made his father angry, but their speeches got very dull very fast. Also they argued with each other all the time; one supported the Reboot agenda—violent overthrow of the system—and one supported an adjustment of interest rates. Knox just wanted to make out.

  “Look at him,” Marie said, pointing. Syd’s breathing was shallow, his chest heaving up and down. It looked painful. “You think it’s right for someone to go through all this because of you?”

  “Because of me?” Knox threw his hands up in the air. “You were in on the accident. He wouldn’t even be here if you hadn’t set me up.”

  “I had no choice,” she said. “Your father threatened my proxy, if I didn’t help him teach you a lesson. I didn’t think things would go this far.”

  “Some excuse. You knew what would happen to Syd.”

  Mary shook her head. “I thought it’d benefit Syd in the long run too, if you learned your lesson. We both know the accident wasn’t your first offense, so don’t act like you care about Syd all of a sudden.”

  “Hey,” Knox objected. “I didn’t put him into debt. That’s just the way it is. I didn’t invent the system.”

  “That doesn’t make it right.”

  “Debts have to be paid somehow.”

  “Do they?”

  “Oh man.” Knox sighed. “You’re a believer? Bring on the Jubilee! All is forgiven! Really? Want to hold my hand and sing too?”

  “Wouldn’t the world be better if the slate was wiped clean? We could start over. Build something more . . . fair.” She frowned. “I don’t expect you to care.”

  “I don’t get why you care,” Knox replied. “I mean, your dad’s company controls most of the proxy system.”

  “And yours enforces it,” she said. “But here you are.”

  “I’m here because my dad enforces it,” said Knox. “My dad used me and he used you, and I’m not going to let him get away with it. If that means getting Syd to the Rebooters, then that’s what I’ll do.”

  “Getting back at your dad is the wrong reason to do this.”

  “Who cares what my reasons are?”

  “Reasons matter.” She turned away from him.

  Behind her, the light
s of the restricted speedway zipped past. Knox watched the road, remembering their last drive together. The memory stung, but why should it? He hadn’t killed anyone on this road. It was just a road. The girl was right in front of him. She wasn’t flirting anymore. She wasn’t really flirting back then either.

  Marie glanced out the rear window and Knox followed her gaze. The advos along the road were all for the fake IDs. It didn’t look like they were being followed, but they were definitely being watched. His father would have a tracker on the transpo already. He was probably sitting in the living room watching them from his datastream.

  Syd had better wake up soon. He needed to tell them where to go in the Valve. They couldn’t just cruise on in without him and start asking around for some old man, especially not if his father’s enforcers were already after him.

  “Listen.” Marie turned back to Knox. “For my part in what’s going on here, I’m sorry. I want to help. I owe that to Syd. He got hurt so my proxy wouldn’t.”

  Knox took a deep breath. “Fine,” he said.

  “But they still have to think I’m your hostage,” Marie said. “Or else your father will take it out on Beatrice.”

  “Beatrice?”

  “My proxy.”

  “She’s not really my problem,” said Knox.

  “You really are a heartless bastard.” Marie glared at him.

  Knox shrugged. After everything he’d been through tonight, what did insults matter? Let her think what she wanted. She didn’t know his life. She didn’t know what he’d been through, what caring about someone else could cost. Everyone gets hurt in the end. Better to be the one doing the hurting than the one getting hurt. She’d know that if she’d ever really had to suffer, but she was a spoiled rich girl with pretty ideals, whose mommy and daddy let her get away with murder. Murdering herself, sure, but still . . .

  “You know, I was actually jealous of you when they told me you’d been kidnapped by your proxy,” Marie said. “I was jealous that you got to meet him in person. I imagined that if I could meet mine, we’d be friends.”

  “Friends?” Knox laughed. “You can’t be friends with your proxy.”