Strikers (4 page)

She flounces off, happy and seemingly unaware of the seriousness of what we’re contemplating. Connor and I lie back on the warming cement slab and look at the endless blue sky above us. We talk a while, but it isn’t long before I hear his breathing become steady during one of the long pauses in our conversation. I turn to see his eyes have closed.

I sigh and my stomach rumbles in hunger. I’ve got nothing stashed in my pockets and I’m too tired to move. My thoughts keep turning back to my father. The entire concept of him showing up just doesn’t seem to want to settle into my mind.

There has to be something more to it than just getting caught. He was dirty and dusty and certainly older, but he looked good all the same. His clothes looked nice and his coat was thick and warm, made in a style I’ve never seen around Bailar. His hair was cut neatly and he had no beard, just a few days stubble, so he was clearly able to take care of himself. He didn’t look like a ratty old smuggler or someone who eked out his survival in the wild lands to the north.

I’d like to keep thinking, keep awake, but the sun is warming the cement and the air is shifting from cool to almost warm. It’s definitely rolling toward spring. It feels good to lie here and Connor’s breathing is calming. I feel sleep coming over me but rather than fight it, I decide it will pass the time and let it take me.

Someone shakes me roughly from behind and I groan at the pain in my hip where it meets the cement. I’ve turned to my side, like I do in bed, and tucked myself up into a ball. I roll over to see Cassi squatting between Connor and me. This time she’s shaking him, at least.

I groan again as I sit up. My body feels as stiff as a board and I’m foggy from sleep. Rubbing my eyes, I say, “I was out like a light.”

Connor is waking up, confused like he usually is when he sleeps deeply. I look around and am startled to see Jovan standing a few feet away. He’s off the concrete, like he doesn’t want to intrude, and has his arms crossed against his chest like he’s embarrassed to find us sleeping like we’re homeless.

That makes two of us, because I’m embarrassed he found us like this. Still, I can’t control the huge yawn that comes out and the shiver that follows directly after. I shrug in his direction and he surprises me with a smile. It’s a small smile, one that barely turns up his lips, but a real one.

It takes a few moments of stomping to get my blood moving while Cassi soothes Connor as he wakes up completely, but eventually we’re all awake and ready to find out how Jovan can help us. That he’s here means Cassi has achieved at least a partial success, and I clap her on the back to let her know it’s appreciated.

Rather than sit back down, we walk along the canal away from town. The other side of the road has a line of small houses. The exact same kind of small houses go several rows back, mine included. Half of them aren’t occupied and the other half are quiet so there’s no one to question our actions. Four teens walking along the canal isn’t unusual enough to raise any questions anyway.

Jovan doesn’t waste any time. Almost as soon as our feet get moving he says, “You guys shouldn’t do this. Really.”

“Yeah, I figured that part out already,” I say, not quite keeping the sarcasm out of my voice. He shoots me a look that I ignore.

Connor must sense the tension because he adopts his reasonable tone and says, “We’re well aware of the risks, but this is her father we’re talking about. And my brother.”

Jovan is taller than any of us by at least several inches, so when he looks at us, he is looking down at us. Normally, that would make me uncomfortable, but his look is searching and concerned. There’s nothing superior about it.

“I can probably get you in. I might even be able to get you out. But it’s a risk. It’s a crime.”

All of us give him a nod. We know this and two of us already have strikes on our necks to prove we understand what that means. Jovan looks at Cassi and says, “You don’t need to go inside, so you’re going to help us on the outside where I need it. Can you do that?”

She looks relieved and I cringe inside. I hadn’t even considered that she had no reason other than her friendship with us for going inside the Courthouse. Jovan is apparently a better friend than I am. And he gave her pink glasses.

“Sometime around midnight the soldiers on duty get a meal. It’s called midrats,” he says, then shakes his head at our lost looks. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that it’s always a cadet that goes to get the meal and bring it to them before going on patrol duty. Always.”

I can see where this is going. I can also see that he’s doing more than just telling us how we might weasel our way in for a visit. He’s talking about actually getting us in himself.

“Why are you doing this?” I break in before he can go on. “I mean, you don’t actually have to go in with us. So why do it?”

The look he gives me isn’t one I can easily interpret. It’s steady, but distant, like I’ve hurt him somehow just by asking. It feels uncomfortable enough to make me look away and I cover by looking to Connor for support. He looks just as skeptical as I am.

“It’s a good question,” Connor says. “Why would you do this?”

“Because it’s for a good reason,” Jovan answers. The way he cuts the sentence off makes it clear that’s the only answer we’ll get.

I see Cassi giving me a sidelong grin out of the corner of my eye. I ignore it.

“On most nights the cadet who brings the food will take the place of the soldier on duty at the desk so they can all go back and eat. That leaves no one but the cadet watching the entrance to the cells for at least fifteen minutes, maybe longer if things are relaxed inside. Given the load that came in, I wouldn’t bank on more than ten minutes tonight.”

As he speaks, I can see it in my mind. I’ve been in there and know the layout pretty well. Offices and courts are upstairs, the jail is on the ground floor. No one stays in the jail for long so it’s a fairly straightforward arrangement and doesn’t use up the entire ground floor. I can vaguely remember a couple of doors that led further into the building but not where they led to.

“That will give us what, eight minutes, if we move fast?” Connor asks, his face grim at the short time span we’ll get for all our trouble.

Jovan looks sorry when he nods, as if he wishes he could offer more. “And that will be only if you get in fast. Less if there are any snags. It’s all I can do.”

Cassi is looking at us with hopeful eyes. I can see she wants very badly for this to work for us, for those minutes to be enough. It has to be enough because short of magically spiriting them out of there, I can’t see any other solution.

“It’ll have to be enough,” I say and nod to Connor. “Right?”

“We’ll make do with what we can get,” he answers.

“Right,” Jovan says and rubs his hands together. “Let’s get our plan together so we don’t wind up in the cells along with them.”

Sneaking out of the house is going to be easy tonight. My mom wasn’t even awake when I came home in the afternoon. She didn’t even stir when I made dinner for Connor and me. The smell of alcohol seeping out of her pores was so strong I could smell it when I leaned close to her on the couch to see if she was breathing.

It’s a habit to check for that now. She’s not old and she still manages to keep away from the booze when she’s working, but the minute she comes home she starts making up for lost time. It has to be doing terrible things to her body and I’m not yet ready to lose the only parent I have. I dislike her, fear her even, but I still love her deep down inside.

Except that now, at least for the moment, I have two parents. It’s a situation that’s likely to change in the very near future. Once they confirm his identity so they know they’re killing the right person, he’ll be dead.

I slip out of my room and down the stairs of our little house right on time for our midnight rendezvous. Each creak or wobbly stair is as familiar as my hand, so I don’t make any noise. Peeking around the wall to the living room, I see my mother still on the couch, out like a light. The blanket my grandma knitted, now so soaked in alcohol fumes I can hardly bear to touch it, is draped across the cushions in haphazard disarray. Normally, I’d tuck it around her but I can’t afford for her to wake up tonight.

The front door is creaky beyond help, so I sneak out the back door. It’s cold again now that it’s been dark for a while, and I can see my breath. The weeds that pass for a lawn are still dead or only greening in patches. The ground crunches under my boots as I tiptoe over to the rickety shed in the back corner of the yard. A feeble bit of light comes through the dirt-encrusted window, so I don’t bother to knock before I pull open the door.

Connor is sitting in a pool of light from his flashlight, his eyes mere inches from the pages of a book.

“You’ll go blind reading like that,” I say, and then grin when he starts and drops the book.

“Cheese and crackers, Karas!” he exclaims.

Connor says that cursing is a sign of low intelligence. I say a good cuss word used judiciously is like pepper on top of a fried egg. Absolutely necessary and it adds a little spice where it’s needed most. We’ve agreed to disagree on that matter.

“You ready?” I ask.

He picks up the book and dusts it off. I do feel a bit bad about that and I hope I haven’t caused it any damage. They are expensive and hard to come by, especially the wordy kind that Connor prefers, filled with tales of dragons and such.

Tucking the book away, he grabs his flashlight and slips that into another of his voluminous pockets. He’s always got them filled with everything from food to spare clothes. If I had his family—the only family in town I can think of that’s worse than mine—I’d probably do the same. They make their dubious living with a constant stream of schemes but use their children to carry out anything that might earn a strike, saving themselves from paying for their actions. It’s disgusting.

It doesn’t take long to make our way to the place where we’re supposed to meet Cassi and Jovan. The streets are dark and quiet, and the loudest sound I can hear is the barking of a dog in some distant yard.

We reach the dark corner and, for a moment, I think we’re the only ones there. Before I even have a chance to complain that the others are late, Jovan seems to melt out of the darkness behind us. I try not to jump when he appears like that. I’m all nerves and it feels like almost anything could make me fly right out of my skin.

“Cassi’s already in place,” he says, not taking the time for small talk. He’s wearing his Cadet uniform, which is just like a regular Army uniform save for the lack of rank patches. I don’t like it on him. It makes him look too much like all the rest of them.

He’s got a box in his hands. The scents of meatloaf and gravy wafting out of it make my mouth water. Connor and I made do with whatever I could find and get out of the house without my mom waking up. We definitely didn’t eat meatloaf.

“You’re sure about this?” I ask him. It’s only fair to offer him a chance to back out.

He nods but I can’t see his face well enough to read the expression there. Only the barest suggestion of light reaches us from a single bulb outside the Courthouse. It carves his face into stark patches of light and shadow, devoid of expression.

“Go back around the building and stay out of sight of the cameras. Come up just like we talked about and stay behind the loading platform. It will hide you. Be ready,” he says and hefts the box. His voice sounds sure, but there’s a thready note in there that gives away his nervousness. He should be nervous. I’m so terrified I want to puke all over his perfectly polished boots.

I don’t though and the urge passes. Just as I’m about to ask him if he’s sure again, he walks away toward the front of the Courthouse. I grab Connor’s hand and we take off in a quiet walk-run around the other corner, heading toward the back door.

It seems to take forever to get around the block. The Courthouse is huge and covers the entire block, corner to corner. I’ve lived here my entire life, but I never really noticed that until tonight. Now that I’m running around, hunched over and silent, it seems quite unreasonably large. And in the dark, the pale stone seems to glow as well as loom over us.

With the darkness so complete and the night so quiet, everything seems stretched to its breaking point. My nerves, the silent night, and quite possibly our luck.

Before we turn the corner into the field of view of the cameras, we stop and take stock. Neither of us has a watch, but Jovan made sure we knew there was usually a minute or two of chatting or jokes before the soldiers took their food back to the break room. Once we round this corner, we’ll need to be careful like we’ve never been before.

The camera should be pointed so that it covers the side entrance and the stairs leading to the loading dock, but not as far back as the corner where we are. Jovan told me we should keep low, get to the concrete lip under the loading dock and then stay put.

A quick look around the corner confirms what he said. Our only real worry is being seen by anyone who happens to be looking this way from another building or the street. And I see nothing. It’s completely still outside. Late-night activity is not a common thing around Bailar. I take Connor’s hand again and we shuffle, almost bent double, until we reach the safety of the loading dock overhang.

It’s rather nice under here, cozy even, which is absurd and makes me smile. At a questioning grunt from Connor, I say, “Nothing. It’s a bit like a playhouse under here.”

He smiles back at me and pats my shoulder. “You’re such an idiot,” he says and I hold back a laugh. I know it’s just tension making us do this, but it’s still funny for a few seconds.

We shuffle along under the overhang till we’re closer to the door side of it, but not so far that the camera will see us. Once there, we’ve got nothing to do but crouch and wait. It seems to take forever and my thighs start to burn from the crouch. Somehow, it doesn’t seem right to sit down so I stick it out. The burn tells me it’s been more than a minute or two, more like five.