Barcode: Cavern of Youth (25 page)

“First, twenty-seven point twenty four,” Monte mumbles.

“Last, NW,” Angie says while scrunching her eyes.

Carmen mouths, “Second, eighty point eighty-three,” and holds onto it tightly. She’s been carrying her phone since we left the store because she doesn’t have pockets. She nudges me and asks, “What’s this?”

“Some important numbers I can hear in their room. It’s drawn on a wall with materials that can only be seen under black lights. If any of us are captured, tell them we all have a piece of it.”

Monte narrows his eyes at me. He’s analyzing my every word and it shows. With his arms crossed, he fumes, “And how do you think we’re getting in? Are you going to ask nicely?”

“Yeah.” I lead the others between two green stucco buildings and up to an all black steel door. Monte observes his surroundings, including the plastic trees and the green turf.

I don’t even have to knock. Two men greet us with frowns by opening a wooden door on the opposite side. I remove my hood because I don’t expect to make it in with a blank face.

“The fuck are you?” The largest and fattest man asks with a huge military assault rifle hidden behind his back. The dark skinned guy probably weighs three hundred pounds and is Angie’s height. His lips are crusty white and his voice is baritone deep.

The man next to him rocks in his chair while smoking a cigarette that’s been dipped in something strong. I assume PCP. The way he’s behaving, he may stand up and shoot us with his Glock just because he can.

With an attitude I reply, “The cops, so let me in.”

The crusty mouth guy reveals his weapon. Impatiently, he taps it on his leg. “Aye little man, this ain’t a schoolyard.”

“Tell PM I need to see him.”

Crusty Lips points his gun down the street. “Them niggas got the same product on the corner.”

The guy smoking a cigarette leans out of his seat. His eyes trace Carmen’s body while his left hand snuggles his penis. Sluggishly, he stands up and moves Crusty out of the way. “Hey. Come here.” He speaks clearly and eloquently as though he were college educated. If he weren’t smoking, I wouldn’t know he was high. “What? You look as though you’re afraid.”

“No,” she replies, trying to seem as though she has courage. “Are you letting us in or not?”

“It depends. What are you willing to do?”

Angie rolls her eyes. “I’m sick of this. Let us in, now.”

“Oh! She bites.” The man sniffs loudly and scratches his balls. “Okay cutie. What are you doing here?”

“Don’t know.”

“You don’t? You’re in the wrong place.”

“No.
I
don’t know. I’m just the muscle. If you want to cut deals, talk to the manager.”

Taking a huge puff of his cigarette and shaking his head, he turns to me. “Okay,
manager
. What’s up? You want to talk to PM. For what?”

I listen to guys on the top floor bragging about how they ripped off another group of dealers a few hours ago. They’re still pumping their guns and sniffing cocaine while telling the story.

“You know the boys on East Forty Fifth that just got hit?” Both men stare at each other with bewildered expressions. “I’m the one that gave PM the information about where to find them. I’m just here to get my cut, then I’ll bounce. He said I get ten percent of whatever they got. We were supposed to trade on the street, but when Trey got dropped, we all went our separate ways. I picked up my family just in case.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I don’t care who PM is. I’m not walking in by myself.”

“Okay little man. I’ll let you
and
your family in, but you know, kids should stay off the streets. What you doing with drugs and hanging out with older girls?” He snickers while opening the door. “
Manager
. I love kids.” Still blocking the way, he turns to Crusty and hands him lip balm. “I swear if I give you another one and you lose it, I’ll slap you.”

Crusty absorbs all of the balm, but his lips are still white around the edges. He follows us while keeping his gun aimed at Angie’s back. She never looks back at him.

We trail the skinny guy through a narrow hallway. There’s no telling what color these walls were originally.

Carmen covers her nose from the stench of feces and vomit. I don’t know how they both made it into the hallway, but it seems that’s the new fragrance on the streets.

Our tour guide flicks his cigarette on the ground while puffing his last bit of smoke into circles. That’s when I remember I have another lollipop. I take out the wrapper and shove it in my mouth. My tour guide points his gun at me to make sure I’m not doing anything dangerous.

“Man. You really are a kid.”

We walk up the stairwell, passing tenants engaging in the thrilling hobby of injecting themselves with some intensive drug on one floor and siblings playing with their three-legged dog on another.

Once we’re at the top, I check for hidden cameras by pretending to rub my eyes. I need to see vibrant colors to do this. We’re clear.

We continue walking down the hallway, but I block the others at room 1507.

“What’s wrong, little man?”

Turning my head towards the door, I listen as a tall and muscular guy smacks a drug addict woman around. He’s obviously high on the illegal barcodes covering his body. The one over his heart is his most recent. The data flowing through it is primitive, but powerful for a mortal. That type of code has been illegal for years because of its side effects, including suicidal thoughts, unmanageable aggression, and fecal incontinence.

There’s some pretty advanced neonball armor resting on the torn couch. I assume the three-legged dog ripped it apart, but that’s probably not true. The woman being beaten doesn’t seem like she could afford anything better than the one kitchen table, two chairs, and stolen carpet. The brown rug is the most expensive thing in the house, and I’m sure it’s stolen

“I don’t care what you say; I’m sick of this. You dry and loose. How you think you going to make money now? You think I’ll fuck you? Nah. That’s not happening.” Looking at the woman’s daughter, he utters, “She thirteen though. Remind me of you back in high school.”

The scrawny and delicate girl is pressed tightly between their spherical television and a wall. It looks like half of the TV isn’t working.

The woman cries, “Please Bobby.”

Bobby Russell! He was just bumped from D-League to the pros in neonball. Some say he has the potential to be the star player for the Smogmen—the top seed for the West Coast—but old habits die hard. Drug addiction and several fights have provided him with a night in jail four times this season.

“I paid for this already and I didn’t even nut. This is getting boring and I want my money’s worth.”

The woman yelps with bruised lips and eyes, “You can have it baby. You can have it back, but don’t touch her.”

“Didn’t you just say you needed this money? You said you’d do anything for it. You need rent. And you blew the money she needed for that academic program, right? Teach her how to earn it.”

The little girl cries uncontrollably. A stream of tears stretch down her face and crash onto her dirty socks. Her shirt is torn and pants are removed.

My tour guide interrupts, “Little man. You alright? Is that sucker laced?”

“How do you know what this is?” I ask, turning to him.

“Where you from little nigga? We sell those around here, doped up and everything. Get them from the UK and push them at Jefferson. Anyway, you ready?”

“No. I think Bobby told me he was coming over today. I want to see if he’s here.”

I walk to the door and try knocking, but my tour guide grabs my hand. “Angie. There’s no camera.”

The gladiator princess punches Crusty so swiftly that his gun floats in the air for a second. She dismantles it before dropping the pieces on the big man’s limp body. My guy tries raising his gun, but I’ve already removed his slide. I tightly hold the ridge of his neck and he passes out.

“Okay. I’m impressed. We’re here, but where’s the room?” Monte asks.

“1513.”

The others walk past me and I fight the urge to dropkick the door. Now, Bobby’s beating the hell out of the woman to stop her from interrupting anymore.

Carmen mouths, “Whatever it is Kay, ignore it. We have to get those computers for the professors.”

Taking a deep breath, I join the others. Angie’s looking over her shoulders as though she recognized me. Though she can’t know what’s on my mind, I feel as though she’s judging me for passing up that door. Her look isn’t filled with hatred. Why not?

Monte stops in front of the scientists’ room and whispers, “You sure this the one?”

Bobby punches the naked woman and she crumbles over. She’s crying blood and tears, but not giving up. As she struggles to stand, he approaches the little one. She screams, “No!” and begs for her mother’s help. The girl is tiny and frail, though she’s a bit developed to be so young. If this guy does anything to her, she’ll be scarred the rest of her life; possibly become a prostitute like her mother.

How many times has Dennis told me to lay low? He begs me to avoid killing anyone above ground because it causes too much attention. People die in this type of neighborhood all the time. What’s the difference today? She’s only getting raped.

It hurts to see her school books on the table with her homework complete. She’s not like
them
. All of her answers are correct on her Calculus, but her grammar needs serious help.

Bobby tears off her panties and she screams bloody murder. Even the others look back at the door. When he slaps her, I find myself standing in front of the numbers 1507, knocking lightly.

He covers her mouth forcefully. “Keep your ass right here. I swear on The Writer if you say a word I’ll kill moms. I swear. Don’t say a fucking word.”

She covers her mouth and whimpers softly, but he couldn’t find her more amusing. He strokes her adorable face near the scar he created just seconds ago. It stretches from her eye to the halfway point of her cheek.

Bobby throws on his baggy dark purple armored pants and stumbles to the door. He boldly flings it open, practically daring the girl to run away.

He’s so tall he doesn’t notice me initially. “What’s up?” The words infect my nose with a vomit and alcohol odor.

“I came to drop off her homework.”

“She never forget work. What you really come for?” I get a bit anxious. Did he already see through me? “You trying to get some? She a little young, but so are you. Nah. I guess you like thirteen, fourteen but you not ready to get in that yet. Believe me. This family ain’t what it’s cracked up to be.”

On the ground, I hear the little girl pray to a god that will never hear her. She’s crying and begging The Writer for someone to stop him, but her prayers are turning to anger. She wants to know why He’d send someone so small.

The little girl crawls across the floor to reach her mother, but she’s hurt. She glares at me from the corner of her eyes as though I were a disappointment. A let down.

Bobby looks over his shoulder when he realizes she’s in my sight.

“Why are your eyes closed? You blind?”

“Do you believe in heaven and hell?” I turn my head up to him.

“Yeah boy. Everybody do.”

“Not me. How do you get there?”

“You do good or bad things. You do good you go up. You do bad, you go down.”

“Where are you going?”

“Same place every bitch go on me, little homie. Look. I don’t have time to mentor you but I can give you an autograph or something. Just come back later this week. Michelle’s going to be a little sick tomorrow.”

Monte motions for me to get away from the door. Angie and Carmen watch in amazement. I don’t know if they can tell what’s going on, but neither budges one bit.

I consider allowing him to close the door and leaving fate up to the invisible gods to do what they will, but that’s boring. The only god Michelle will ever know just opened his eyes to cause this prick to take three steps back.

“I’m going to kill you. Don’t worry. There’s no hell for you, but no future either.”

The man lights various thin barcodes across his body. I imagine that acquiring this many must have hurt. He’s very strong for enduring that tattooing. Maybe he did have the gall to become the next Elyse Jordan of neonball. Too bad we’ll never know.

I lunge forward and wrap my hand around his throat. I sling him through a thin wall separating the living room and kitchen. After slamming him on the tile floor, I drive my knee into his face, breaking his nose. I beat him within an inch of his life. The punches sound thunderous, and cause the entire building to rumble. That’s when I hear the door for 1513 explode, with Monte right in front of it. The two rooms next to the scientists’ lab blow up as well. Only three men working inside were able to escape. Many of the others are dead.

The shock wave thrusts Monte into 1514, where drug dealers with guns and half-naked women are gathering their wits. Monte’s forced to defend himself against everyone in the room.

Angie curses before leaning against the hallway wall and slumping down to the floor. Surprisingly, she chuckles under her breath. Carmen walks into my area, just in time to witness me choke Bobby to death.

The mother screams and tries to fight me off. Her blood, spit, and sweat sully my jacket. With a gentle force, I push her away. She falls on her butt and screams louder than when Bobby was beating her.

Michelle cries joyfully. She’s holding her knees. Her eyes focus on Bobby’s arm as it falls limp. Once he’s dead, she stops shivering. Her eyes connect with mine and an evil smirk lifts on her face.

When I’m done, I walk over to her and ask, “Michelle, what’s your last name?” I cut my thumb on my wristband and smear my blood over her wound. The scar turns into a black and powerful barcode.

“Smith,” she responds while holding her face. She’s yet to stop smiling.

After handing her all the money in my pocket, I say, “Here’s your second chance. Help your mom or run away.”

Mission failed. I guess.

Nineteen

The professors were pissed when they discovered what happened. I told them the honest truth in most of its entirety. I tried making it seem as though we could all hear outside of the door, but only I paid attention.