by Aaron Frale
She found a nook between two stores where she could get into her bag unnoticed. She reached in and pulled out one of the canisters. She thought for a moment and then placed her invisible pack on the floor. She wrote a note to Jon and slipped it into the backpack.
She left the bag in the nook and turned to a bored-looking teenager sitting next to a kiosk selling various sunglasses.
“How late are you here till?” she asked.
“Uh—four-thirty,” the teen said. “Why?”
“Could you do me a favor and tell an Asian guy who is about to come in that I’ll meet him over there?” She pointed to the nook where she had left the backpack.”
“An Asian guy, here?”
“You do know what an Asian person looks like?” Hailey said.
“Yeah, I’ve seen the show about Chang. He’s so funny, always yelling.”
Hailey really hated this universe.
“Just tell him,” she said and walked away before the guy could even ask her for her name. She stopped in front of the Forever 21 and popped the canister open. It hissed. She pulled a piece of hair from her pocket they had collected from DeAndre’s comb. She put it in the cartridge, closed the lid, and shook it up. She opened a nozzle and sprayed the air.
Microscopic traces of DeAndre’s DNA glowed like she was shining a black light on them. She sprayed again at a wider radius and saw two trails. One was the direction they were coming from after the heist. The other was in the course none of them had gone. She took off in the new direction.
Every time she came to a crossroads, she repeated the spraying ritual to get a sense of where he had gone. She just had to find him before someone else did.
7
Hector sat in a windowless room handcuffed to a metal table. It was pretty much the same as any other police station on the countless worlds he had visited with a one-way mirror on one side. The only exception was the millions of tons of water on the outside of the hull. Hector wasn’t worried about trouble with the authorities of this world. He had every faith in his team bringing him back as soon as they solved the DeAndre problem. The backpack with his mace and other gear was still on his back. Since it was invisible, he had to be careful how he sat to not reveal its presence.
There was one thing going for him. This place wasn’t an authoritarian one like the universe of his birth, so the simplest solution for most run-ins with the cops was getting the person out on bail then disappearing without a trace. Universe hopping had its advantages where they could look like just another person who had skipped bail.
All Hector needed to do was wait and keep his mouth shut. So far, the tactic was working. When they had revealed that the Autopsy Technician was able to do a positive ID and the camera footage of Hailey stealing the community resources, Hector had said nothing. The police had threatened him with forced labor in the sewage reclamation plant, and Hector had stayed silent.
When the door jiggled and another detective came into the room, he steeled himself for another round of people badgering him. Instead, the detective, a plump man with a mustache and black jumpsuit, sat down on the chair across him and pulled out a digital reader. He swiped open a novel and began to read. They were trying to out silence him. Hector had no trouble with awkward silences and would be content with the man reading the whole book if it came down to it.
Hector relaxed a little even though it didn’t show on his face. The detective seemed to have sensed it, put down the eReader, and said, “Hector Gonzalez.”
That was enough to snap Hector out of his silence, “You know my name.”
“That’s not all I know about you,” the detective said.
“Oh?”
“I know you’re a fugitive.” He let the remark sit for a moment and then added, “On the run from a multiverse policing agency called the Tuners.”
Hector laughed. He tried to remember the case file Hailey and he had studied before they came over. It was incomplete and really just the notes from the technicians that they were able to data dump from all the tech stations before they abandoned HQ. However, all the director notes, Tuner reports, and materials were lost with the station. All they had were archived files of the tech stations, which were by no means a complete picture of what had happened in the mission.
Either way, U-61g was a textbook case taught to all new Tuners about improvisational thinking and teamwork. A Universe One artifact was detected on the seafloor. The Tuners at the time, one of them being the Director when he was a Tuner, had to go to this world with no knowledge of the society structure, figure out how to get a submarine, and get back with the artifact all while racing against one of the most notorious and ruthless bounty hunters of the time. The case file read like an action movie, and the lesson was always clear: with quick thinking, the Tuners could leave a universe none-the-wiser about multiverse hopping humans having ever visited.
The trace DNA tracking spray was just a side note when they needed a way to hunt down the bounty hunter at one point during the mission. They had noticed the local police using it and devised a plan to get some themselves. Hector always wondered why they didn’t just go to the morgue.
Now he was wondering if the case file wasn’t what it was reported to be. He couldn’t believe anyone in the Tuners would lie or omit information on a report. He was prepared for exaggeration as it happened all the time with Meathook, but the omission of an essential fact like the authorities discovering their place in the multiverse was against everything the Tuners stood for. However, the case file had to have been accurate. After all, there was no way they would know anything beyond the original mission, and Hector wasn’t even conceived when people first visited this place from another world.
If the first Tuners to visit 61g weren’t the ones who breached noninterference protocol, that left one option. “Ludie,” Hector said.
The light turned on in the room with a one-way mirror, and Hector saw Ludie standing with two cultists wearing suits and hats to cover the scars on their forehead. The kid laughed and said, “Good work, I told you we could get him to talk.”
Hector turned to the detective. “Whatever he has told or offered you, don’t believe it. Your world is at stake. He is part of a cult whose only goal is to wipe every human from existence who doesn’t serve their false god. If you don’t believe me, have those two gentlemen remove their hats.”
The detective seemed to consider his words, and he glanced back to Ludie. After a moment, he spoke. “To be honest, I’ve heard a lot of wild stuff today, but the fact remains that we pulled the footage from the mall. Your partner pushed a button on her phone and disappeared. Heck, probably no one would have bothered to look if the Autopsy Technician hadn’t noticed the missing canisters. But this kid shows up giving an explanation for something that doesn’t seem to have one. He’s got my attention. However, I still don’t know who to trust. So kid, have them remove their hats please.”
Ludie smiled. “With pleasure.”
He nodded to the cultists. They removed the hats, and underneath, the two men had perfectly smooth foreheads. There were no scars. No mutilation. No signs they were cultists.
Hector tried to stand but was held back by his restraints. “Have them roll up their sleeves.”
Ludie nodded. They pulled back their sleeves, and their skin was smooth. It was impossible to even think the cultists were evolving their sensibilities. They were religious zealots, and cutting themselves was a rite of passage. They had never encountered a cultist who didn’t participate in the barbaric rituals. Hector couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
“It has to be a makeup job,” Hector said. “Run a washcloth on their forehead.”
The detective said, “Right, I’ve seen enough. Ludie, we’ll get the transfer paperwork in order. Do me a favor and say you’re from Europe or something. I don’t think I can explain to my bosses that you’re from another universe.”
“That’s perfect.” Ludie smiled. “The fewer people who know about the Tuners, th
e better.”
“Ludie,” Hector said. “Think about what you are doing. These people don’t care about you.”
“It’s not like you ever did either! At least now, they listen to my ideas.”
“I may have been hard on you, but I cared for each and every last one of you like you were my own children.”
“You are not my dad.”
“That doesn’t mean I didn’t love you like one.”
“Whatever,” Ludie said. “Take him, boys.”
“You’re making a mistake, but it’s not too late to come back from it, Ludie. It’s never too late,” Hector said. However, he wasn’t quite sure if he believed it himself.
8
The Tuners cruised down the street in Alex’s pimpmobile. Giant buildings on all sides made it feel like they were driving down a concrete canyon. The levy wall of the New Orleans of this world was much higher and made the city feel like a fortress. In some ways, it was like a castle from the medieval days. Built for the rich to live and work on the backs of slave labor. While all cities had secrets, this city’s secrets were out in the open.
People were collared like animals and dragged through the streets by their masters. Advertisements claimed growth hormones for slaves. They passed an auction where teenagers were being sold. A rich woman walked unencumbered while her servant could barely hold her shopping bags. The society felt wrong, and the joking around with each other that usually filled most car rides was replaced with an eerie silence.
Alex eventually pulled up to the mall, and they all piled out of the car. While they walked, people eyed Patel and Magdalena with suspicion. Jon was a curiosity. Azerius and Alex made people uncomfortable. Meathook was the only one who could walk through the mall without questioning looks, but even he could feel the eyes wondering about the company he kept. They needed to be quick. The less they could be out in public, the better.
When they got to the Forever 21 where they were going to meet Hailey and Hector, no one was there. It was a little disconcerting because of how far they had to drive to get into the city. Hailey should have been there by now. Before anyone was able to say anything, a clerk working at a kiosk said, “Hey, Chang!”
When no one reacted, he walked right up to Jon and said, “Chang!”
“My name’s Jon,” Jon said.
“Whatever. You look just like Chang. Isn’t that something else!”
“You better have a point before I punch you,” Jon said, and Patel grabbed his arm.
“Whoa! Okay, your friend told me that’s she’d meet you right there,” he said and pointed to the nook between the stores.
“My friend?” Jon asked.
“Pretty little blonde,” the clerk said. “Man, do you think you could introduce me? I’d—”
Jon moved in to lay the guy out, and both Meathook and Patel had to hold him back.
“Come on,” Patel said. “We have more important things to do.”
“Whoa! Whoa!” The clerk backed away and muttered something racist under his breath.
Meathook dragged Jon away before he could go after the guy. Alex was already inspecting the nook the clerk had told them about. They were a swift bounty hunter and moved with no one ever noticing. They had elevated sneaking around to an art form.
By the time the others got there, Alex had already found the invisible bag and was reading the note left by Hailey and holding the canister in the other hand.
“What’s it say?” Meathook asked.
“Hector got snagged by the authorities in 61g,” Alex said. “Hailey already went on the trail for DeAndre and left us this canister to follow her. You know what this means for me? Overtime. God, I love overtime.”
“How did you find an invisible backpack!” Jon said.
“Duh, I’ve been watching you for the last couple of days! By the way, sweet backpack. I think I’m going to keep it, and the invisibility cloak in it.”
“We only have a limited supply of—” Patel protested.
“Hailey should have thought of that when she left it here,” Alex said and slung the backpack on their shoulder. “So, should we go find her? Or you want to go get a smoothie? It doesn’t matter to me. I charge by the hour.”
“We need some of her DNA to track her,” Patel said. The group looked at Jon.
“What?” Jon asked.
“Dude, bro,” Meathook said. “We all know. So, give up the DNA already.”
Alex pulled a swab from a compartment on the side of the container and handed it to Jon. He swabbed his lips and gave it back to Alex. While they put the swab into the chamber and fidgeted around with it, Jon asked, “So, isn’t it going to find mine?”
“Yes,” Patel said, “And the microscopic critters that live on your skin, anything that may have recently left trace amounts of DNA on your lips.”
“Don’t worry, bro,” Meathook said. “The secret about the goat is safe with me.”
Jon punched Meathook on the shoulder and said, “So how do we know when it is picking up Hailey?”
Patel said, “Because we know what direction you came from, the DNA trail leading off in a direction we don’t know will be Hailey’s.”
“I wish this place had cameras,” Jon said.
“It’s funny you mention it,” Patel said. “But 61g decoded the human genome before they even invented video cameras.”
“How is that even possible?”
“Technology doesn’t always progress in a straight line. Some think it is because they got their inspiration from aquatic life which rarely use eyes while others say—”
“Chop! Chop! I’m being paid to clean up your mess, not listen to your lectures,” Alex said.
“Right,” Jon said. “Let’s go find Hailey.”
Alex sprayed the canister, and several trails appeared. Once they narrowed it down to the path they hadn’t gone down during their visits, they pressed forward.
∆∆∆
DeAndre hopped a fence into the alleyway near the police station where he had spent the night. It was dangerous coming back, but without a TF3, he was stuck in this universe. Since even the closest people to allies as he could get in a place like this wanted him dead, DeAndre didn’t see a choice. Though he was tempted for a moment to give his life for the people of this universe. If his death really could bring about a legal battle that could cause meaningful change, maybe it would all be worth it.
In the end, he had to go for survival. The cultists were a more significant threat to all the universes. If the cultists had their way, it wouldn’t matter if a person was free or a piece of property in this place, they would all be slaves to the Flame. Since there weren’t legions of Tuners waiting to take back HQ, he had to survive.
When the jerks at Human Services had decided no one was going to claim him as their property, he had cut loose at the first opportunity. A doctor had come into the room where he was being held to weigh and measure him for an injection that would make the retirement painless.
“You call killing people retirement? That’s messed up,” DeAndre had said.
“It’s better than suffering whatever untreated ailment caused your owner to abandon you. It’s the most humane thing to do,” the doctor had said.
“How about treating the ailment?” DeAndre had said.
“Doctor’s exams are expensive,” the doctor had said. “Now, if you, please step on this scale.”
DeAndre had laughed at the irony of the situation. They wouldn’t pay a doctor to treat a slave but they would pay him to kill one. Eventually, the guy had gotten so frustrated with his patient’s snarky attitude, he had gone to get security. The doc was so flustered, he hadn’t closed the door to the room properly behind him. With DeAndre’s speed advantage, he was able to get out of the facility reasonably quickly and eventually had found his way back to his only possibility of escape.
He trotted down the alley to a backdoor of the precinct near some trashcans. The plan was to wait for some officer to go on a smoke break and r
ace through the door before it shut. While DeAndre was fast enough to do it, he never actually made it work. Meathook would help DeAndre practice trying to run through a closing door, but he would always knock it around. Each time he tried, he’d either hit it head-on or it would bounce off his body as he ran past.
Now that his life depended on it, he didn’t have a choice but to time it right the first time. He waited behind a dumpster for the door to open. After a few minutes, the door squeaked. He dashed around the corner of the trash at full speed. He did a double-take when he saw who was walking out the door. It was the racist cop from earlier.
DeAndre panicked and turned around and hid behind the dumpster. He peeked around the edge to see what was happening. The cop heard the whoosh and saw the blur, but after looking back and forth for the source of the disturbance, he dismissed it as a figment of his imagination.
After a few moments of waiting. DeAndre heard footsteps coming from the other direction. A man in a white suit with a cane met the officer. They exchanged pleasantries and made small talk. After a few moments, they got to business.
“I’ve never seen anything like them,” the cop said. “We found them on that slave boy. The one from TV.”
“Can I see them?” the man asked.
“Sure, they’re in the evidence room, but I need to see you’re serious.”
The man pulled out some cash and greased the palms of the officer.
“Come with me,” the lawman said.
This was it. DeAndre needed to follow them through the door. When they both were facing the doorway, he stood up, ready to run. They both went through. There was a precious moment where the door was swinging closed behind them. DeAndre sprinted toward the entrance. He twisted at the last moment and slipped in sideways, and the gap closed. The door hit his foot and bounced slightly. The police officer noticed and turned around.
