Jacked (16 page)

“You’re not believin’ it, are you, Shoe?” Sid asked. Tar noticed the man glared at him every time they made eye contact.

“I got to. Turbo’s got no profit in lyin’ and Pup knows I’d beat ‘em if I thought he fictioned me.” He shook his head again before turning to look at Tar. “So you’re the made-up man, the fixer. What’s your blog?”

Tar swallowed but it caught in his throat, his tongue just a big dry lump in his mouth. “Jimmy told it just the way it was.”

“Prove it.” This was from Sid but One Shoe did not stop the order.

Tar gestured toward the box along the wall. “Any of that tech work?”

Sid just laughed. “That was all on the ground before The Crash,” he said. “Ain’t nothin’ making those bricks into apps.”

Tar reached down and picked up the tech he had held earlier. “Even this one?”

“All of ‘em.” Sid was doing most of the talking but One Shoe leaned forward in his chair, his eyes trained on Tar.

He flipped the machine to the gang leader. “Push the little button on top,” Tar said.

One Shoe looked at the tech like it might bite him but he touched the button with a dirty fingertip. Mechanical music filled the area as the game started up. Sid jumped off a couch in surprise and stifled a yell of pain from putting his weight on his injured foot.

“Frag me,” breathed One Shoe.

“Real chilly,” said Jimmy.

Tar gestured toward the boy. “I fixed it as a present for Jimmy. To thank him for getting Turbo to help me.”

One Shoe flipped the machine to his little brother. “It sounds to me like you did your share or Pup would still be 404.” He stopped when Sid cursed through clenched teeth, then watched him limp away. “Don’t mind Sid. He’s plenty mad about his foot and he’d love to flame you with some big aggro but you helped a Moene so he won’t break the code. You’re safe.”

Tar looked at Jimmy. The boy was already engrossed in the little game, lights and tinny music filling the area. “I don’t feel too safe,” Tar said.

One Shoe laughed. “Probably not.” Then he grew serious. “I want to make sure I got your blog straight on one part. You’re the guy all the shirts are looking for. You really are a straight-from-a-story fixer.” He moved even farther out on the edge of his chair. “Even with all that bad sittin’ on your head you still tried to help Pup.”

Tar shrugged. “You say it like that it doesn’t sound very smart.”

One Shoe leaned back, nearly lying down in the seat. “Maybe not smart but chilly as hell,” he said. “Moms would’ve been pretty ticked if I let him get nabbed by the Shirts but you took care of that for me.” He smiled. “So what can I do for you?”

Tar blinked. He could not have imagined the day going like this. “They killed Shovel, shot him right in front of us. My uncle,” he swallowed, ignoring for the moment what he had learned about Jahn, “died trying to help us get away. Now my book, Toby, is still out there somewhere and the Black Shirts are after him, too. I’ve got to find him.”

“Then what?”

Tar hesitated. Jahn’s warning about trusting people played through his mind. One Shoe had been willing to hurt him before Jimmy stopped him and Tar wasn’t sure Sid still would not, no matter what their gang code said. But if he was going to find Toby and try to find other fixers he needed help. “We think there are more fixers out there. I’m going to find them.”

One Shoe gave a low whistle. “More fixers. I’ll be fragged. Okay, how you going to find them?”

Tar leaned over and rummaged through his backpack. After a few seconds he pulled out the app Jahn had stolen on the day of The Crash, still wrapped in one of his extra shirts. He showed it to One Shoe. “With this. It’s got a list of fixers on it and where they were living on the day of The Crash. They may not be there now but at least it’s a start.”

One Shoe stared at him for a few seconds, then stood up. “Oso! Pockets!”

A man at the back of the open area stood up from his group and another appeared at the railing on the second floor.

“You’re going pinging for another kid. Come on down here so the fixer can tell you what he looks like.” One Shoe turned to Tar. “You know, it would probably be safer to just get out of the city when we find your book. Go up and live in the mountains away from everybody else. Shirts would never find you then.”

Tar looked at the floor. He sighed before glancing up again. “I thought about that. But they might need my help. I gotta try.”

“Just like when you helped Jimmy?”

Tar nodded as the other two gang members walked up.

“Tell them who to look for,” said One Shoe. “We’ll get `im back to you.” He started to walk away, then stopped. “Can you fix anything brick?”

“As long as it’s got juice and nothing’s busted, yeah.”

The gang leader nodded and vanished into one of the side rooms.

Chapter 21

The tamale beans burned Tar’s tongue but he kept chewing and sucked in a breath. Several young women had shown up at the Galley as the sun set and before long the smell of masa wafted through the entire area. Tar’s stomach grumbled loud enough to make some of the gang members laugh. Jimmy sat next to him at the table and rattled on with a mouthful of food about the game Tar had fixed earlier.

That had not been the only thing he had made app again. Throughout the afternoon gang members had come up to him with bricks. Most were music makers or games like Jimmy’s, but one had been fairly complex and similar to the tech Jahn had stolen. Another looked like Mr. Keisler’s grab-n-go computer, but this one’s side was cracked and smashed together and no matter what Tar did he could not make it work. He managed to fix the rest, even if some had batteries so weak the apps barely turned on anymore.

But now it was Tar who felt out of juice. He was so tired his eyes were shutting even as he ate. Voices across the area grabbed his attention. Pockets was talking with One Shoe while others who had gone searching for Toby were making their way back to the tables. Tar blinked hard. His eyes burned a little when he realized his friend was not in the group. One Shoe saw Tar looking their way and motioned him over.

“Tell `im what you saw,” One Shoe told Pockets.

“Shirts are everywhere, kid,” the gang member said, rubbing a hand across his face. “You can’t walk down a street without seeing riders or Shirts banging on doors. They’re not the locals, either. Shirts in our hood know better than to hassle us but these guys stopped my group three times. One time I thought we were gonna have to get all aggro ‘cause they were all over Stick and Bae.”

“They were two of the younger Moenes with Pockets,” explained One Shoe. “They look more like you, too—eyes, skin—you know.”

Tar nodded. “Did you see Toby?”

“Maybe.” Pockets shrugged. “I don’t know. One time, when the Shirts had us stopped, I saw a kid lookin’ out from an alley. I didn’t want to get him caught so I just dummied and didn’t say nothin’. We pinged for him as soon as the Shirts moved on but no dice. Might have been him. Sorry, kid.” Pockets nodded to One Shoe and left to grab some food.

“What do you want to do, Tar?” the leader asked. “We could try to get you out of here tonight, late, when it’s deep dark.”

Tar shook his head. “You wouldn’t go. You wouldn’t leave one of your Moenes if the Shirts had them.” Tar looked at One Shoe. “I’ll look for him by myself if have to.”

The gang leader smiled. “Get some sleep. I’ll wake you up if Oso has news when he gets back.”

#

Tar shook his head as he tried to wake himself up. His eyes finally focused, and he cringed back into the cracked leather couch. Sid stood over him. The banger smiled at Tar’s startled reaction.

“Come on. Some of Oso’s Moenes just got back.”

The man limped away and Tar rolled onto his feet. Several gangers were standing around One Shoe. “They found your friend,” he said over his shoulder to Tar, “but a group of Shirts surprised them and they got separated.”

“What happened?” asked Tar.

One Shoe shrugged. “They don’t know. It was dark and Oso ducked down an alley. They think your friend was still with him.”

One Shoe began talking to the Moenes about things Tar didn’t understand so he wandered back to the couch and sat down again. For the first time since he and Jimmy had escaped the jail Tar started to truly worry he would never see his friend again. Although he had believed every word when he told One Shoe he would go out and look for Toby by himself he was not really all that sure he could continue on his own. One Shoe sat down in a chair across from Tar and rubbed a hand over his face.

“What happens now?” Tar asked.

The gang leader did not answer right away. He stared at the wall above Tar’s head, his eyes glazed and unfocused. Seconds passed into a minute, long enough to make Tar wonder if something had gone seriously wrong in the search for Toby.

“Oso and I joined the Moenes and earned our marks at the same time,” One Shoe finally said, gesturing at the intricate tattoo on the side of his neck. “We had to…we had to answer a challenge and Oso was shot while we were doin’ it.” One Shoe looked at Tar. “I tried to help him get back here and he damn near hard booted me because he didn’t want help. I never seen anybody so mad in my life.” One Shoe paused a moment and his face hardened. “We’ll give Oso a little more time. If he’s not back soon, I’m gonna go out lookin’ for him. Don’t worry, kid. If anybody can bring your friend back on his own, it’s Oso.”

Voices started up from one of the side rooms and a woman cursed. A handful of Moenes at the back near the tables laughed, then returned to their conversation, quiet words floating in the air, not quite reaching the front.

Tar leaned his head back and stared up at the ceiling. He couldn’t see the glass in the dim light and he realized something was wrong. “How late is it?”

“Close to midnight, I s’pose.”

Tar looked around at the lights on the walls. They were small, only glowing bright enough for people to maneuver around the area. Just a few steps beyond One Shoe the room descended into shadows. It was the same with the Moenes at the tables. He could see black forms sitting and moving but he could not tell which dark spots were Pockets or Sid, for instance.

“Do you get tricity down here this late?”

“Nah. They shut us down, same as everywhere else.”

“Then how do you have lights?”

“Bae’s older brother was the leader of the Moenes before me, just like his uncle before him, all the way back to The Crash. Anyway, his brother, Jung, was a damn genius. He’s the one who made up the back door Jimmy brought you in. He also grepped these big shiny techs that we put on the roof. They turn sunlight into tricity and juice the batteries for the lights and stuff. After the city shuts us down for the night we run off the batteries in the Galley.”

“Chilly,” breathed Tar.

“Yeah,” One Shoe nodded. “We can get enough juice to make it look like daylight in here if we want, even run the stove a while. As soon as they shut things down at night we use the pulleys over there to move blankets across the glass up top, keep us hidden. But I had them juicin’ some different batteries after you got here so we’re runnin’ low tonight.”

“Where’s he at now? The guy who put it all together?”

“Jung? He’s dead.” One Shoe did not explain any more.

The voices in the back of the Galley stopped. Metal screeched. A snap followed. A few seconds later, the voices started up again, louder, with a few laughs thrown in.

Two shadows made their way over and One Shoe jumped to his feet. Oso walked out of the dark. The two men grabbed each other’s hands and made some quick gang gestures.

“You’re loco, Oso, but I’m damn glad to see you,” One Shoe said. “The others all beat you back.”

“I figured as much,” Oso answered. “We had to lay low in an old building and cut back through a couple of alleys to get around the shirts. They’re everywhere, Shoe. I thought we was 404 a couple of times.” He turned and waved the other shadow forward.

Tar leaped to his feet. Toby walked into the light and smiled—one shirt sleeve torn and what looked like was going to be a bad black eye—but he smiled when he saw his friend. “Nice place,” he said.

#

Oso told most of the story about what happened. Toby was too busy eating cold beans and leftover tamales, attacking the food like someone who had not eaten in days.

Oso had spotted Toby just as the Moenes were confronted by the Black Shirts. As soon as Oso felt sure no one would follow him he had taken off after the boy. After a while searching the winding dark of the alleys he finally saw Toby sitting in the edge of a shadow, watching Black Shirts down the street going building to building. Oso didn’t take chances and he grabbed Toby. The boy panicked, fighting back with all the ferocity and strength he could muster, thinking he’d been grabbed by a Shirt. Oso had needed to hit Toby and knock him half-senseless and, after carrying the boy a couple blocks he managed to convince Toby he was taking him to see Tar.

“Not that I could have done anything about it anyway,” Toby whispered to Tar. “I thought my head exploded when he hit me.”

His voice had carried in the quiet because Oso chuckled, a deep rumbling sound like a half-full barrel rolling on a hill. “But you kept punching,
pequeno luchador
.” Oso rose to his feet and put his hand on Toby’s shoulder, his thick knuckles looking like knots in the dark tan rope of his fingers. “That’s all anybody can ask of an
amigo
.”

“Uh…thanks?” Toby said, rubbing the tender area on the side of his face.

Oso chuckled again and walked off toward one of the rooms.

“So what were you doing out there when Oso found you?” Tar asked.

Toby stopped shoveling in the food long enough to shrug. “Anything I could to stay away from the Black Shirts. After they grabbed you I found a place to stay in a building down the street. The next morning I moved in closer to see what was going on. I thought maybe you might have a chance to, you know…do your thing. About then, a whole bunch of them go riding up to the front door.” He paused. “The bald guy was leading them.”

Toby nodded. “Ludler. I thought I saw him inside the jail when Jimmy and I were getting out.”