Jacked (9 page)

He eased the door open. At first only dim, gray light filtered in from the right, but as he opened the door more he saw a brighter light in the distance. In between, sitting in the shadows, were the hulks of cars and pick-up trucks, minivans and motorcycles, all the machines that did not work after The Crash. They were in the basement level of the garage.

“We did it,” breathed Toby.

Tar nodded. They were not safe yet, not until they had made it home.

He shut the door and looked at the stairway to his right. The walls of the level they were on were made of concrete but, as he stared up, he could tell the walls were different above ground. Sunlight fought to make it through dirty glass and filtered an eerie shadow.

“Do you want to go up that way?” Toby asked.

“No,” Tar said after a few seconds. “This side of the building opens up facing the mall. Let’s go out the other side and try to get somewhere safe.”

Chapter 11

Tar and Toby stood just inside the shadows of the parking garage, looking up the paved ramp to the street and letting their eyes adjust to the afternoon daylight. Some faint shouting and the sounds of horses on asphalt came from the far side of the block.

“Let’s get across the street and into that alley,” said Toby. “That will put more distance between us and the Black Shirts. Then we can use it to go down a block and cut west.”

“But I live east.”

“I know. But the water plant is west. I think we can make it there, and then my dad can help us.”

“I’m just going to head straight home,” Tar said.

“You can’t.” Toby turned and looked Tar in the eye. “Those Black Shirts were pinging for someone, and I think they were pinging for you.” He looked away. “That’s why Shovel’s hard boot. They wanted to know where to find you and he wouldn’t tell them.”

Tar tried to swallow but his mouth had gone dry. The street swayed back and forth in front of him and, for a second, he thought he might lose his lunch.

“Why would he do that?”

“Because that’s what books do. Now, come on. We need to get out of here while we can.”

Tar started to speak but Toby was already trotting across the street so he followed after his friend. They had just reached the shadows of the alley when they heard horses approaching. Tar stepped into the hollow of a doorway while Toby, with a loud grunt, dove behind a pile of garbage on the other side.

Long seconds turned into minutes. Tar closed his eyes, waiting for the hands of a Black Shirt to drag him out into the light. The jingle of a bridle, a horse snorting nearby, the murmur of men’s voices—the sounds were right beside him. But the warning noises stayed on the edge of his hearing, just a few steps away, keeping him alert. When the dread finally built up to the point where his fingers ached from being clenched, Tar cracked one eye open and peeked out into the alley.

The first thing he saw was Toby’s left foot. His friend had somehow managed to dive behind some trash and drag part of a cardboard box down on top of himself but, while the rest of his body was covered, the foot remained in the open.

No one seemed to notice. Tar eased away from the door, leaning his body out until one eye could see around the door frame toward the street.

He nearly fainted.

Two Black Shirts sat on their horses in the mouth of the alley, facing out from the shadows toward the street. Every so often they would lean toward each other and talk quietly while their mounts fidgeted.

He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and looked over at Toby, who had pulled the cardboard down far enough for the top of his head and one eye to show. Tar shook his head and gestured toward the alley opening.

The boys remained in their spots as the afternoon wore on. The sun peeked around one wall and traveled across the entrance, throwing its light into the alley and causing Tar to lean back against the door and hide in the shadow of the frame. There was nothing Toby could do but stay still, lying in the dirt of the alley.

Even though Tar had been terrified when the sunlight crept down the alley he soon relaxed. Not only did the Black Shirts not see them, they did not even turn in their direction. Their entire focus remained on the garage ramp, peering across the street and waiting. Tar watched them on their vigil, pressing his face close to the peeling paint of the doorframe so he could back out of sight if either man turned in his saddle. But there they sat, their mounts snorting and stomping their hooves on the trash-strewn concrete.

Finally, the sun ducked behind the other wall, its course across the opening complete. Shadows fell deeper down the alley, brought on by the darkening sky, and near-black swept over them.

Tar looked around as Toby stood up. He had not noticed his friend moving the cardboard camouflage off his body. Toby took a long look at the Black Shirts, and then gestured at Tar to follow. Still certain the men would turn and see them any second he nevertheless slowly stepped out from his hiding spot.

They kept to the sides of the alley as much as possible, ready to drop down at any moment. But soon they were far away from the men and hidden securely in the shadows. They rounded a corner and emerged on a small side street, a solid wall of brick between them and the men who still waited at the end of the alley.

“We’ve got to keep moving,” said Toby. “If they waited this long they’re going to keep pinging for us until we’re caught. I don’t want to go 404.” He looked away. “Or worse.”

“Can we make it to the water plant before your dad heads home?”
“Nah, not now. We’d better head straight for the house and see what he says.”

Tar nodded and followed his friend down the sidewalk. Three times they heard horses’ hooves approaching out of the dusk and they hid as best they could. Twice they were able to duck into alleys like before, but the third time they were caught in the middle of a long block. They had been forced to step inside a store. Only one person was inside, an older woman standing behind the counter. She started to speak but then the Black Shirts rode by in the streets. She looked back and forth between the men and the boys, sending daggers of worry into Tar’s stomach every time she glanced outside. Finally she walked through a curtained opening in the back, a quiet exit to match her silent vigil. Tar knew she would not turn them in but she also would not help them, other than ignoring their presence. A few minutes later the men and horses were gone, the jingle of the little bell over her door as they left their way of saying ‘thank you.’

Every howling cat made the boys jump, and every shadow made them sweat, but the rest of the way to Toby’s home was otherwise uneventful. The sun had fallen behind the other nearby apartment buildings when they turned the corner and walked into sight of the spinning front door. Tar remembered how he had been fascinated by the circular opening when he was younger, the never-ending swing of the doors. Now it just looked like a beacon welcoming them to its embrace. He was ready to run across the street but Toby suddenly grabbed his arm and pulled him closer in the dark.

“There’s no one out front,” Toby whispered.

“So?”

“There’s always someone out smoking or just keeping an eye on the street, at least until they power down the electricity.” Toby jerked his thumb back in the other direction. “Let’s go around back and see if anybody’s there.”

The boys kept to the deepest part of the shadows as they retraced their steps. Toby led the way down a side street as Tar followed, his fear growing with every step. All he wanted to do was run away as fast as he could, to his own home, but he kept remembering Shovel looking up at the store window and hearing Toby tell him why the boy didn’t rat them out. He couldn’t leave Toby now; he was his best book.

The top few floors of the apartment building loomed into view, outlined by the lights in its windows, then the boys heard the jingle of a horse’s bridle. Voices floated on the breeze, joined by quiet, rough laughter. Tar and Toby froze.

Movement, shadows within shadows, caught Tar’s eye and a half-dozen horsemen slowly took shape in the street. Farther down, out of the range of hearing, other black areas moved, hinting of more Black Shirts; at least, that was what Tar thought they must be—Black Shirts waiting in the dark for Toby to arrive home. His friend must have had the same thought.

“It’s not safe,” whispered Toby. “I don’t know what to do.”

Tar thought he heard his friend’s voice crack a little but he ignored it.

“Do you think it would be okay for you to go alone, you know, without me?”

Nearly a minute went by before Toby answered.

“No, I don’t think so. They would just do the same thing to me that they did to Shovel.” There was another pause. “I don’t know if I could take that kind of beating without…without…you know.”

“Then come home with me,” Tar said. “We can hide out with Uncle Jahn until they give up pinging for us.”

Toby thought it over, nodded, and the boys quietly turned back they way they’d came.

They had only gone a few steps when Tar froze in his tracks.

“Toby, what if they’re waiting at my apartment?”

Chapter 12

Tar led the way through the dark streets. Twice they needed to duck into doorways to hide from Black Shirts lurking in side streets and alleyways.

Sweat popped out on Tar’s forehead each time he heard the hooves clop-clopping on the street. But even scarier were the icy fingers on the back of his neck. He stopped several times as they moved and, more than once, thought he heard footsteps for a beat or two. The feeling of being followed had begun soon after they lost sight of Toby’s home and the closer they came to Tar’s the more that feeling grew.

They headed for the apartment building’s side door. Tar had never seen anyone else use it, even Mr. Coppen when he still worked as the maintenance man, which meant anyone watching the building would be looking at the front door, the one facing the main street with the bare bulb burning below the overhang.

At least, that is what Tar hoped.

They stayed in the shadows of the old deserted storefront across from the side door with no street light, its faded and chipped metal façade was hard to see. Finally, Tar could not take the feeling of being watched any longer.

“Let’s go,” he said.

They trotted across the street. Tar slapped his hand down on the box and a few seconds later they were in the back lobby. For the first time since the curtain had fallen from the window overlooking the school, Tar relaxed.

“We made it.”

Toby shook his head.

“I don’t know, Tar. I don’t know if we’ll be safe anywhere now.”

Tar shrugged. He wondered if he was just being paranoid before or if there really was someone watching them from the shadows.

“Let’s see what Uncle Jahn has to say.”

Tar half-expected his uncle to meet them on the stairs, just as he had a few nights earlier when he came home after dark. But no one was there, in fact, as they ran up the stairs, no one appeared to be in the halls at all. Even the common area was deserted.

“Where is everyone?” Tar did not know why he had whispered the question. Perhaps the silence in the building pressed down on him. The icy fingers of fear returned.

As they walked down the hall toward the apartment, a door cracked opened ahead of them. The Talarico family—a father, mother, and a daughter about Tar’s age. Their door opened only a few inches but Tar saw part of Mr. Talarico’s face. Tar opened his mouth to ask what was happening but when the man shut the door, the bolt sliding on the inside.

“This isn’t chilly. We need to go 404 now.” Toby’s whispering did not bother Tar as much as the sweat pouring down his friend’s face and the break in his voice. Until today he had never known Toby to be afraid of anything; Shovel either, for that matter.

Tar was so jumpy it took him three tries to slide the key in the apartment door lock. As he turned the knob, the door across the hallway squeaked open.

“Did you find…oh, Tar! You shouldn’t be here.”

“What’s going on, Mrs. Schumacher? Where is everybody?”

The gray-haired woman had watched Tar when he was younger and had always taken an interest in him. A retired teacher whose husband had gone hard boot on the day of The Crash she had helped with some of his early learning when Uncle Jahn decided not to send him to school.

Mrs. Schumacher looked both ways down the hall before stepping out.

“Everybody says a boy was killed at school this morning by the…Faithful.” She looked away when she said the name, perhaps ashamed she used the Black Shirts’ formal title. “Then they came here.”

Tar ran into his apartment. It was empty. He returned to the hallway where Toby and Mrs. Schumacher stood, looking nervous.

“Where’s Uncle Jahn?” he asked.

“He went looking for you. I don’t know, right before dark, maybe two or three hours ago.”

Tar felt like he had been hit in the stomach.

“What do we do now?” he asked Toby.

“We’ve got to go. This feels all fragged. They’re pinging hard and now they know where both of us live.”

“Your friend understands,” said Mrs. Schumacher with a quick, sharp nod. “You’ve got to get out of here while you can, Tar.”

Tar shivered. He knew Toby was correct but he was afraid to just run without talking to his uncle. He needed someone who could tell him they were doing the right thing.

“Mr. Keisler!” he finally said. “He can help us. Thanks, Mrs. Schumacher. Come on, Toby.”

“Be careful, boys. I’ll tell your uncle you were here.”

Tar waved and they trotted down the hall, avoiding the main stairway leading to the front door of the building. Mrs. Schumacher would not tell anyone she had seen them but there were plenty of people who would be just as afraid as Mr. Talarico. The fewer folks who saw them, the better off everyone would be.

He hesitated at the sixth floor door and listened closely, straining to hear what was happening on the other side. Nothing came through the metal so he cracked the door open enough to peek into the hall.