Jacked (27 page)

And with that knowledge came heat. Tar breathed again. The blood flowed through his body. His legs stopped quivering. The heat was his anger and it warmed him, melting his fear.

He thought of Uncle Jahn, dead in an abandoned store. He thought of Mr. Keisler and Mr. Lionel and the risks they took to help him. He thought of Toby’s father, wondering if he was still alive. He thought of the fire at the Winchester House and of Marybelle. He thought of his mother. He thought of the millions of zoms and the many millions more who had died.

He thought of Nataly Pierinski, her blonde hair hooked behind her ear, and he knew as long as there were men like Father Eli and Ludler she would always be in danger.

Those thoughts fed Tar’s anger.

He turned and walked back to the front of the stage. Toby ran up beside him and grabbed his arm, trying to pull him to a stop but failing. Tar knew his friend was shouting in his ear but he ignored it, jerking his arm away.

Tar reached down and grabbed the tech Father Eli had used earlier, the voice amplifier. “Listen!” he croaked, then cleared his voice. “Listen to me!” Tar’s voice rose above the crowd, echoing over the top. “Stop!” he shouted, and this time his voice was followed by a high-pitched squeal from the speakers around the stadium. Slowly the fighting stopped and the noise died down. The crowd stilled.

“Yes, I am a fixer,” Tar said. “My mother worked on the Mind along with Dr. Pierinski. But…my mom and the doctor, they were not the ones who murdered everyone.” He turned and pointed at the Father Eli in the stands. “It was him. He also worked on tech, he told me himself. He was a programmer.”

“Stop him!” Father Eli pointed back, spittle flying from his lips.

“He was the one who caused The Crash,” Tar kept going, raising his voice to drown the man out. “Father Eli is the murderer! He used tech, a computer virus…” Tar hesitated a second. “It was his virus that caused the downfall of technology and all of the people to become zoms. He did it so he could take control, to make each one of you live the way
he
wanted you to live.”

Tar looked over the crowd. “I came here to try to fix the Mind. I came here because I thought maybe I could make the zoms better. Wake them up again, to be who they once were. That’s why Father Eli and his Black Shirts have been killing fixers. Because he knows! He knows we bring the apps back to life. He knows we can fix what is broken!”

A rumble went up from the crowd, rising and falling but never quite dying out.

“You lie!” Father Eli screamed.

“They’re the ones who must go!” Tar yelled. “They must go so we can live! Help me! Help me and other fixers like me, to bring back life. To bring back the world!”

Tar was never able to pinpoint exactly what happened next. The movement and noise created mass confusion. People and gang members surged toward the Black Shirts guarding Father Eli. Someone hurled a club or a pipe and it struck the man, pushing him back into a seat. A few overwhelmed Black Shirts tried to run, one group making to the tunnel where Oso and Toby had been leading him earlier.

Later, it was the colors he remembered the most. The crowd washed over the stands in blues and greens and browns, climbing up the incline like a wave and finally breaking high on the beach. They receded, leaving behind only red. Not bright orange-red like Turbo’s hair, but the dark crimson of blood. It soaked Father Eli’s white clothing.

Tar didn’t know how to feel about it. He thought he’d be happy but he wasn’t. He looked up at Father Eli, dead and broken, just a stain of a man against the stadium’s faded red seats.

Chapter 37

One Shoe led a group of Moenes across the stage toward Tar. Blood trailed down the gang leader’s arm, staining his sleeve, but a grin split his face. “You and my brother, always in trouble,” he said and grabbed Tar in a bear hug. “
Gracias
for trying to bust him out. Chilly, man.”

“We take care of our own,” Tar said, once he caught his breath. “He’d have done the same for me.” He looked around. “So where is Jimmy?”

“Soon as the fighting started we hustled Pup and Pierinski out. We figured it was best to make ‘em 404 quick-like, you know.” One Shoe looked past Tar. “Oso was supposed to get you out of here, too. What happened?”

“He wouldn’t leave,” Oso said, coming up from behind them. “I thought our boy had gone loco when he ran back toward the fight.” The big Moene was holding one arm across his chest and actually leaning on Toby a little for support.

“You did the right thing, Tar,” Toby said with a smile. “I don’t know how far we’d have got if the Black Shirts were still in control.”

“We don’t have to worry about that now,” came another voice. Everyone turned as Turbo climbed up the front of the stage. Several other men followed him, some bleeding and hurt, all wearing different gang colors. His red hair still stood out, however.

“Your talk turned it, little man,” Turbo said, slapping his hand down on Tar’s shoulder. “As soon as some of the people started helping it evened the odds and made it a fair fight.”

Toby nudged Tar and tilted his head toward Father Eli’s bloody body still sprawled over the seats. “We won’t have to worry about him anymore.”

“No, we won’t,” said Turbo. “And we put a real good hurt on the Black Shirts in this region, too.” He looked at the other gang leaders. “I think the truce should stand long enough to track the ones that got away.” Most of them nodded in agreement.

“I saw Ludler and his group make it into the tunnel and run off,” said Tar and he met eyes with Toby, his stomach churning at the thought of the sadistic captain still on the loose. “We need to look for Lieutenant Martinez, too. He told me about another fixer they killed. A guy named Jordan.”

“I remember his name from the list,” said Toby. “We’ll look for Martinez in the bodies.” He turned to Oso. “But not you. Man, your butt’s too big for me to haul around. Pockets and Sid can go with me.”

“I still don’t know how you guys made it here in time,” Tar said. “I thought we were all going hard boot.”

“Thank her,” said Turbo. He gestured to the far side of the stage.

Tar turned and Nataly threw herself into his arms. She kissed him—hard. He knew the funny feeling jumping through his body now was not from their implants touching.

“Oh, hey, all right.” One Shoe laughed and Tar tried hard not to feel embarrassed by the shared smiles. “Your boy, Toby, did the smart thing. He recharged the car’s batteries and motored back to The Galley and told us what was going down. We went by the doctor’s house and your girlfriend here, she wouldn’t take no for an answer.” He smiled. “Said she was gonna come for you and her pop no matter what and that we were cowards if we didn’t help. So we put out the word to Turbo and hauled ass to get here.”

“Is she right?” Turbo cut in. “Can you turn the air back on? Make the Mind talk again?”

Tar let go of Nataly but their fingers still intertwined, not enough so their implants made contact but it still felt really good. Tar shook his head at Turbo. “I can’t. What I said on the stage was true. Father Eli caused The Crash and killed everyone but the Mind is gone. It was destroyed in a fire. I can’t fix it now.”

Everyone’s shoulders slumped except for Nataly’s, who was still wearing a smile. “You may not need the Mind,” she said.

“She’s right.” Just then Jimmy ran up the steps of the stage and didn’t stop until he had grabbed One Shoe in a hug. His big brother punched him in the shoulder when he stepped back.

“Hey! Not so rough,” said Jimmy in mock indignation.

“That’s for making mom worry, Pup.”

The boy rubbed his skinny arm as he turned toward Tar. “She’s right. He said you don’t need the Mind. He’s bringing you a present.”

Tar frowned, looking back and forth between Jimmy and Nataly. “Who said? What do you mean?”

Nataly’s eyes glistened with tears despite her smile, and she tilted her head toward the side of the stage. Dr. Pierinski shuffled toward them, using an improvised walking stick for support. Several gang members walked in an arc behind him. But it was the woman at the doctor’s side that drew Tar’s attention. Her gray-streaked, black hair was short, and wrinkles gathered at the corners of her eyes, but Tar recognized her instantly.

It was his mother.

He let go of Nataly’s fingers and staggered forward, nearly falling down as his feet tried to keep up with his body. He hopped down to the grass and walked to her.

“Hisa,” Roger said. “It’s Taro. He’s here.”

The woman stared through Tar, her eyes focused on nothing. Her face never changed expression, jaw slack and shoulders slumped.

Realization hit Tar in the stomach. All these years he had heard stories about the zoms, heard about the hell The Crash had caused with their minds. But he had never seen one. Now he understood the real horror of what Father Eli had done, understood why Uncle Jahn had said the ones who died were the lucky ones.

“Tar,” Roger said, “I don’t think Nataly protected me from the virus. I think I went zom the night of The Crash. Remember? I said I wobbled and woke up later.” He reached out and gently put his hand on his daughter’s back, looked in her teary eyes and smiled despite his cracked and swollen lips. “Nataly fixed me.”

Tears ran from Tar’s eyes, too. He reached out and put his hands on his mother’s narrow shoulders. He hugged her and all his struggles, his life of hiding, the past weeks of running, all faded. He was just a boy holding his mom.

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “It’s okay, Mom. I’m here.”

Tar let go of Hisa and reached up, holding her head so he could look in her eyes. They were blank. Emotionless.

He moved his hand. As soon as his palm touched behind her right ear, a tingle ran up his arm and the pathways in his mind lit up. It was a different feeling than he had ever experienced. much more alive than when he fixed an app, but not nearly as intense as when he and Nataly touched implants. It was somewhere in between and his thoughts raced down a muted landscape, along paths and alleys, while the light streamed all around him.

But even the light was different. He flew down a shaft, the blockage there in front of him. This time he did not do what he had always done in the past, go back to find another way around, search for a new road to connect to the end. No, the light was already there. It was just trapped, held up against a blockage, as if it had been fastened there forever.

Tar pushed, gently at first, and then harder. Though he was in his mind he felt his body sweating and his muscles quivering from the strain. Slowly, inch by inch, the light edged away from the dam until it abruptly broke free with a snap. It coursed down the path in the other direction and the blockage healed over, repairing itself like the scar of an old wound, finally smoothing until it looked like any other part of the walls.

Tar blinked. Looking back at him were brown, almond-shaped eyes. But they were no longer dark without thought or understanding. They twinkled. They were alive. A smile of recognition spread over Hisa’s face and Taro Hutchins said the first thing that came to his mind, something he had wanted to say for as long as he could remember.

“Hi, Mom.”

About the Author

Kirk Dougal has had fiction works appear in multiple anthologies and released his debut novel, 
Dreams of Ivory and Gold 
in May of 2014 through Angelic Knight Press, with a 2nd edition released in February 2015. His YA dystopian novel, 
Jacked
, leads the launch of Ragnarok Publications' Per Aspera SF imprint in 2016.
He is also waiting on the publication of his SF/LitRPG novel, 
Reset, 
while completing the sequel to Dreams,
Valleys of the Earth
.

Kirk is currently working in a corporate position with a group of newspapers after serving as a group publisher and editor-in-chief. He lives in Ohio with his wife and four children. For more information on his writings or just to find out what he has been doing, you can find Kirk at his website, 
www.kirkdougal.com
, or hanging out on Facebook and Twitter.