The Renegades (The Superiors) (2 page)

Chapter 4

Draven
spent his nights searching for Cali—and for food. Though he stole his meals
each night, he had no way of knowing how many times his thefts had been
reported. Livestock owners seldom inspected their saps, and they likely would
not notice an extra set of teeth marks before it faded in a day or so. Some
saps would report Draven’s visit to their masters, but their word alone could
not incriminate him. Even if a Superior spotted him, no one knew his identity.
As long as he avoided capture, no new charges would be laid against him.

Often
he thought of the man he had killed, and the sap he’d killed the next summer.
He thought also of Sally and of his time in captivity. She had freed him,
against everything her family and her community believed in, and for that, he
owed her his life. He hoped her traitorous act had not cost her too dearly. But
he’d never dared return to her village to find out.

Among
the possessions her people had taken from him were his money, his papers, and
the supplies he’d purchased for Cali when he had begun his journey. He smiled
to himself at the thought of how simple it had seemed then. He’d thought he
would follow Byron, explain the situation, and pay handsomely for the sapien,
letting Byron profit from the sale. Then he would return home with his prized
possession. What a fool he had been. Nearly two years later, he had nothing—no
sapien, no job, no apartment, not even an identity.

At
least Sally had managed to sneak one of his backpacks out of her house. In
this, she had placed most of his clothing, a few extra items that must have
belonged to her family, a hunting knife, a pocketknife, a packet of garlic, a
jar of cloves, a jar of lemon peel, his maps, a small survival kit, a few
lighters, and a letter. He knew the letter was the riskiest of her
contributions to his escape, and he read it often when alone.

Now
he threaded his way down the side of a building, ducking between the cages that
served as gardens for the sapiens inside. He had seen Cali’s garden at her
first home in the Confinement, and he hoped Byron had provided a larger one
than the small balcony gardens on the apartment buildings. Cali had loved
gardening.

He
ducked behind a large trash bin and waited for a car to pass. Most Superiors spent
their nights working, not driving about. But some had to travel in the course
of their work. Catchers and trackers moved all night. Others, like Enforcers
and inspectors, would be on the move at times but not all night. He’d held some
of these positions when he’d been an obedient member of society, had papers and
a pod, registered his location, and obeyed property laws.

He’d
always obeyed the Law without question, like most Thirds. He had taken on the
responsibility of being a Superior, dutifully remaining employed at all times,
though his jobs barely kept him fed and clothed and his rent paid. He was no
extraordinary man. He did not belong in alleyways in the seedy parts of town,
nor did he belong on important missions with Enforcers. He belonged in a
comfortable, slightly frustrating life where he never quite pulled ahead but
never fell so far behind that he dropped from the bottom rung of society’s
ladder. That had always been his life. His Superior life, anyhow.

Now
he avoided the Law. It had failed him, and he had failed it. Like all
Superiors, Draven knew that disregarding the Law made him a traitor, a criminal
by intent if not by deed. Superior society centered on the Law and its
enforcement, on obeying implicitly. Breaking the Law was betrayal of not only
that law but of society in general, of his people.

Many
times Draven had considered the risk of returning to society. If Byron had not
laid charges against him, he could have been scanned into the system once more.
But he hadn’t money for new papers. Society had betrayed him in return for his
betrayal—the cycle of having no money and therefore no means to get the papers needed
to get a job to get money, continued endlessly. So he’d given up on the whole
meticulously organized life he’d always led. He’d never been good at it. All
his life, he’d felt vaguely unsettled, had changed jobs often, been restless in
relationships. Now, he had lost that sense of discontent. Now that he was an
outsider, for the first time, he’d found his place.

Chapter 5

The
night had grown chilly while Byron worked at the Enforcement office. He
contemplated calling Meyer, and realized with a mixture of dread and gleeful
anticipation that soon the kid would be back in town for winter. Half of Byron
shuddered at the thought, but some sick part of him enjoyed the torture Meyer
put him through. He couldn’t wait to see Meyer again.

He
let himself fantasize about splitting the boy’s head right down the middle the
moment Meyer opened the door for him. He didn’t consider himself a violent man,
but something in him turned vicious when he thought about that arrogant little
brat outsmarting him. Arrogance would be Meyer’s ruin. Byron just knew it, the
same way he knew Meyer was involved in the case he had to solve.

Byron
let himself into his apartment and took off his belt and weapon. He put his
wallet on his desk with these items, removed his work coat and went into his
sapien quarters to eat. The three saps slept huddled in the bedroll together.
The two grown saps had adjusted well to the addition of the baby. Byron still
held out hope that they would create their own offspring, though he had reason
to believe the female defective.

He
didn’t care for baby sap, so he shook the adults awake and handed each a cup.
He bit the male’s arms and then the female’s, and waited for the two saps to
squeeze out a good night’s ration. The sapling let out a squall but soon
stilled again.

“Master,
sir, may I request a longer chain?” the female asked.

“What
for?” He wasn’t in the mood to deal with sapien whims. He never liked to spoil
his saps, especially not this ungrateful bitch. If she hadn’t had the best sap,
he wouldn’t have bothered with her at all.

“I
just want to be able to use the bathroom on my own,” she said, her head
respectfully lowered.

“You
haven’t earned that right,” he said, taking the cup from her. She always
drained out better than the male. “You’re lucky I don’t hobble you after your
little escape attempt. If I didn’t know how brainless you were, I’d have done
it already.”

“But
Master—,” she started, but he cut her off with a slap. She rocked back on the
bed before turning away and curling up on the mattress with her hand to her
face.

Byron
took the cup from the male and drank. On his way out of the sapien apartment,
he closed the door tightly, as he had every night since he’d supposedly left it
ajar and allowed his sapien an escape route. He heard the female sap crying as
he retreated down the hallway. Though he’d always felt a certain disgust for
their kind, he usually treated his saps with detached kindness. But lately,
that damn Meyer Kidd had put him on edge, and he’d taken it out on the female
sap more than he ought. Still, she had chosen to run away, so she had to learn
her lesson. Lots of Superiors would have done worse than slap her around a
little. By now, she should have learned to deal with it.

Byron
sat before his desk screen and tapped it on. He sighed, watching the ad for
Furr-Bines flash across the screen as it warmed up. When the system had loaded,
he requested contact with his home and waited while the connection went
through. Talking to his wife and kids always made him feel better. If only he
could go home and forget he’d ever heard the name Meyer Kidd. But he knew if he
requested off the assignment, it would tarnish his reputation. Plus, he’d never
stop thinking about it, about what he knew and no one else believed. He’d go
home and go crazy obsessing about Meyer. It was better to stay here, in the
cold that he hated, and wait for Meyer to come back.

After
he spoke with his family, he considered, then searched for a length of iron
chain to add to the one his female sapien wore. The thought of his own children
and their love for their pet sapiens still lingered in his mind after
conversing with them. Giving in to sentimentality, and knowing as he did so
that he was kinder to his saps than he should be, he ordered a two meter
extension. More the bitch would have to drag around, but after fulfilling such
an undeserving sapien’s request, no one could accuse him of animal cruelty.

Chapter 6

Meyer
Kidd let himself into his house—make that Texas mansion—and picked up one of
the little saplings that came to greet him. They behaved just like dogs. So
adorable and eager. He gave the little one a kiss and set it down, patted
another one on the head, bent to kiss another on its round cherub-like cheek.
If that wasn’t the way to come home after a long night of work, he just didn’t
know what was.

“Pop
into the kitchen if you would,” he told the scampering herd. “I need a bite to
eat before bed.”

A
few of them held back, but he didn’t let it bother him. Only natural. They’d
get over their shyness as they grew. A few of the little ones followed him, and
he sat down at the table and took up a toddling sapling. He tickled the boy
until it giggled before he latched on and took a good draw on the chubby little
arm. The boy started crying, but Meyer held it still and tickled it a bit until
it stopped. One of the little girls—where was she?—always giggled the whole
time he drew from her. That made the whole business right pleasant.

He
closed the bite marks and gave the sapling a squeeze. After all this time, he
still sometimes had to remind himself how fragile they were, especially the
little ones. He kissed and petted the baby and tickled its fat little chin
until it stopped looking hurt by his offense. When he set the boy down, it
clung to his leg and looked up at him with big eyes.

“Up,
up,” the little one said.

Meyer
laughed. “You had your turn, now run along, or I’ll bite you again.” He made
his hands into claws and showed his teeth, and the baby fell down on its big
bottom. “Go on now, I’ve got to eat.”

The
baby started crying again, and Meyer turned and yelled, “Somebody come get this
blasted baby out of here. You know I can’t stand to hear them cry.”

One
of his girls hurried in to take the baby away, apologizing as she went. His
little giggler padded into the room, and he patted his leg so she’d climb up.
She immediately did as expected and bared her neck.

“Now
that’s a good girl,” he said. He drew from her and three more of his saplings
before he felt sated. He never took much from the little things—he knew the
exact measure of an adult sapien, but with saplings it was a bit more tricky
knowing exactly how much to take.

After
eating, he went to his bedroom, trailed by a few of the more eager saplings.
Meyer found his favorite pajamas—fuzzy ones with windmills on them and buttons
up the front, a remnant of Furr-Bines ill-fated foray into clothing design. But
he liked them, and they made him proud of his very successful empire, so he
kept them. He climbed into the giant bed and turned on the wall. The screen lit
up, and he lay back on his pillows and smiled at the giant image filling the
screen, one of the Furr-Bines he had come up with himself. He thought it was
especially delightful, and apparently so did the customers. It was currently
Furr-Bines Industries’ top seller.

“A
vid, don’t you think?” he asked. The screen went to the list of vids he’d shown
interest in, as well as a few helpful suggestions based on his past
preferences. “Come up here on the bed already,” he said. “What are you waiting
for?” A crowd of fat little hands appeared on the blanket, struggling to pull
the fat little sapling bodies up after them.

The
screen in front of him offered a few suggestions. Meyer sighed. That was the
trouble with these voice-response screens. Any little comment and they started
telling him that the title “
Come On In”
mostly closely matched his
request. He told the screen to pause and helped one of the fatter saplings onto
the bed. Two of his girls peeked in the door, and he invited them to join. The
bed stretched the length of one wall of the room. It must have been nearly six
meters wide. Meyer loved the giant bed like he loved everything in his
house—mansion, that was.

He
snuggled down under the blankets and looked from one side of the bed to the
other, making sure all his guests had settled in. Five sapiens and three
Superiors, himself included, fit quite comfortably in the bed. Tonight their
bodies didn’t even fill it to capacity. Satisfied, he turned his attention back
to the screen and chose a 4D feature about action heroes defeating a new breed
of steel machines that threatened to take over the earth. Sometimes his vid
choices scared the little ones, but he had his girls around to deal with the
crying and diaper changes.

The
vid began and his saps snuggled close to him. Meyer smiled and heaved a great
sigh. This was the life. As his mum would have said, the American—now North American,
he amended to himself—dream. Making a fortune and spending it on whatever he
chose. He was smart enough to enjoy every minute of it.

Chapter 7

Draven
skirted the busier sectors of Princeton and found himself in a less reputable
area at the border of the service sector. A lurid pink sign flashed at him as
he passed a doorway, inviting him to enjoy the women and men inside. He glanced
about, skittish even in this part of town. Enforcers could be anywhere. Byron
could be anywhere. Though Draven avoided being seen when at all possible,
tonight his hunger had driven him into the open, reminding him incessantly of
his need to find Cali.

He
spotted a sap walking alone, head bent, and thought of accosting him. But an
unattended sap indicated a master who trusted him to run errands or obtain his
own food. Draven could draw from him easily enough, but a sap who had earned such
trust was likely to report if anyone bothered him. A runaway sap, even one brainless
enough to run at night, would never walk down the street in view of so many
Superiors.

The
sap went into the place with the flashing pink sign. Draven turned and moved
away, into the thick of the disreputable area. He passed seedy restaurants like
the one from which he’d once rescued Cali, the scent of diseased sap wafting
from inside, at once enticing and repulsive. He turned down an alley, saw a
group of shiftless Superiors like himself, and turned back into the street. He
had no wish to belong to a gang of daycrawlers who ran from the Law or flouted
it.

Still,
he took a bit of pleasure in knowing the system had failed others like him.
Back home, he’d seen this type of group lurking about and been afraid to take
Cali from her restaurant to his car. Now he found it difficult to imagine
himself as one of these drifters, although he belonged with them more than anyone
else. The people who frequented cheap restaurants were paperless men like him, some
Illegals, the name given to drifters who sold their papers and oftentimes their
identities as well. Once a man had shed his identity, either allowing someone
else to assume it or discarding it altogether, he no longer existed in the
database. He was no longer tethered to the Law—or protected by it.

Most
Illegals sought only a few anyas, perhaps from a Superior guilty of his vices
who might buy a drink in return for silence or pay a paperless Third to do
something illegal. Other Illegals loitered, waiting for a chance to ambush an
unsuspecting Superior and rob the few loose anyas most carried or snatch an
unattended sap. Illegals would not spare a sap’s life. Only on rare occasions
would they capture a sap, and they would take full advantage. After all, if an
Enforcer caught them, they would lose all the sap they had attempted to hoard.
So they took it all, as fast as they could manage, and left the drained corpse
for a Catcher or Enforcer to find.

Only
a few years ago, Draven had looked down upon these gangs. Thirds like himself
made up the gangs, and if he could hold down a job—switching frequently, but
always employed—so could they. If he could pay rent, maintain a tiny apartment
of his own, any Third could do the same. He had no particular skill or talent
that everyone else didn’t also possess. Now he understood how it happened, how
running out of money and losing his papers could start anyone down the same
road.

A
woman in the street looked at him suspiciously and touched her middle, where he
knew she had tucked away her papers. After passing her without making eye
contact, he came upon an empty alleyway and ducked into it. He stood a moment,
relieved for the separation. He checked both ends of the alleyway before
getting a running start and leaping onto a small ledge that began his ascent of
the building. These apartments, like his own back home, did not have balconies
for gardening. No one on this side of town owned livestock.

Draven
tucked his legs under himself and rolled onto the roof and up into a standing
position in one movement. He began his rooftop exploration for the night under
a sky that hung low with clouds, trapping a sickly glow over the city. Ignoring
the pulsing of hunger in his drawing teeth, the slight pounding in his temples,
the slowness of his limbs to loosen to their usual agility, he leapt to the
next building. He moved across the roofs, avoiding solar panels, rooftop
greenery, loose bits of roofing and the compartments that contained batteries,
wiring and tubing.

Upon
reaching an affluent residential sector, he paused. A scent rose to greet him
like steam rising through the night. He peered over the edge of the apartment
building’s roof. A male sapien stood in his garden relieving himself. Draven
dropped to the bars of the garden and quickly scaled the enclosure to reach the
man just as he finished his business. Draven reached through the bars with both
arms and wound them around the man. He covered the sapien’s mouth with one
hand, imprisoning the body and arms with his other.

“Is
your master nearby?” he asked.

The
sapien nodded his head, and Draven squeezed him slightly. “I’ll not kill you if
you do as I ask. I’m only hungry, and I’ll not take too much. If you tell your
master, I will return for your life. Do you understand?”

The
sap indicated that he did, and Draven loosened his grip on the man’s mouth. He
did not want to smother him, only force his silence. He pulled the man’s head
back, turned him sideways, and fed quickly, his eyes and ears alert for the
master’s presence. Although he imagined the sapien had lied, that his master
was at work, Draven must stay alert to the possibility of discovery
nonetheless. He closed the sap’s skin and readied himself for descent.

He
sprang away, down the side of the building, catching himself on another garden
enclosure on his way down. Now that he’d eaten, his senses sharpened, and he
ascended another building after crossing a few more streets. When he neared the
edge of town, he returned to street-level. He ducked inside a small shop with a
door in the side when he saw a car coming.

A
woman rose from her stool behind the counter. “Can I help you?” He’d entered a
sapien supply store, though he did not look like the sort who could afford a
sap. He hadn’t bathed in a week, and he’d worn the same clothing every night.
Although he’d never produce the unpleasant odors saps did, the rooftops and streets
had dirtied his clothing, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a
comb.

He
darted back into the alleyway, sprinted the length of it, turned, and stopped
midstride. Lifting his face to the sky, he caught…something. A whisper on the
wind, a trace of scent. He followed it around a building, lost it, backtracked,
found it again. This time he kept it and followed the pull of her scent. He
could not yet be certain—her scent leapt out at him, and even an old one might
call irresistibly to his keen senses. When he arrived at her building, however,
all doubt vanished. Her scent hung heavy in the air along one wall.  

He
leapt onto the first balcony garden before climbing the side of the apartment.
When he reached the enclosure that had contained Cali, he halted. It now stood
empty, like the others.

He
paused on the edge of the balcony, his feet between the bars, and inhaled her
lovely fragrance. Then he pulled himself up to the top of her pen, balanced on
the metal bars, and leapt onto the roof of the building. Moving as quietly as
he could, he picked his way around the roof’s obstacles. He circled the building
and peered down into the parking area until he’d satisfied his curiosity. If
Byron lived here still, he was not home now.

Draven
returned to the back of the building where the sapiens lived. They would be
sleeping now. At the edge of the roof, he sat and waited, his feet dangling
over the top of her cage. It reminded him of the cage he’d spent most of the
previous year in. He did not like to think of that time.

He
pulled a small, fat book, the antique sort with crumbling paper pages, from his
pocket. He’d lost his pod to the vigilantes who had captured him, and he
imagined they had destroyed it to prevent Superiors from tracing it to their
hidden lair. All his reading material had disappeared along with the
information of his whereabouts.

He
read the remainder of the book, as well as he could. Some of the pages were
fused together with water damage or mold. He’d found it in one of the cars in
the lot where he slept. The book had belonged to someone for quite some time,
judging by the creased spine and worn pages. He sometimes wondered who had
owned the book, if the owner missed it, how many times hands had opened it and
eyes passed over it. The book had a paper cover that had once held a picture,
although he could not discern the image. The paper bent in ridges from water
damage, but he could piece together the story well enough. He could tell by the
story’s strangeness that it had been written by a human.

When
he heard the street below coming to life, Draven closed the book and returned
it to his pocket. Dawn was coming, and with it, Superiors.

He
crossed the roof to watch the vehicles pull into the lot three stories below.
Among them, he spotted Byron’s. Before retreating from view, Draven watched his
old friend enter the building. Byron lived on the top floor, and Draven could
hear noises even through the roof, although he could not distinguish the
muffled sounds. Once more, he perched at the roof’s edge, above the garden. He
listened for what seemed a very long time before he heard voices directly
beneath him.

A
baby cried.

Draven
recalled the baby Byron had taken the night he had left Draven for dead. Draven
would have died if not for the incubus who had saved him, the aptly named
Angel. He put the thought from his mind with the others he kept at bay,
thoughts of his human life and of his Superior life as the captive of humans,
thoughts that, like the surface of the sun, were better glanced in passing from
the corner of the eye than examined directly.

The
baby ceased crying. Draven listened for a sound in the vacuum of silence from
below. Though he could not hear breathing or heartbeats through the roof, he
soon heard voices again, and the scraping and clanking of metal, a louder thump
when something heavy landed on the floor in a gradual way, like different parts
of it settled separately, like a body. More voices followed, a door closed, and
a sapien cried. Even through the roof, he knew it was Cali. Though he had not
known her voice among the others, he knew the sound of her crying. It was
different from a voice, more recognizable.

He
did not move from his spot. After so long, after such disheartening results
that he’d nearly given up, he had found her. He could wait. He leaned back on
the roof, letting the sky open upon him. Rain pelted his face and arms, cold
and sharp as frozen splinters of wood. It washed away Cali’s scent, but still
he did not move. He had found her. He had only sought her for a few years,
nothing in a life of a hundred-and-something, but it seemed much longer.

As
rain soaked him, he thought briefly of the book, wondered how many times it had
endured this indignity. Though, like most of his people, he did not enjoy cold,
tonight he welcomed the slant of frigid drops. He had needed a shower, and here
it came. Not like the ones he’d enjoyed back in his apartment. Better.

He
smiled into the gloomy sky, rubbing his face and hair with his hands until his
skin stung. The wind batted at him, flipping the fabric of his clothing against
his skin, cleansing him for the first time in days. Everything was new again, as
absent of added scent as his skin was absence of its customary grime.

As
he descended that morning, he took extra care not to slip. He’d rarely climbed
in the rain, and sustaining an injury so near Byron’s building could bring dire
consequences. He managed without incident, however. He moved through the
streets, working his way back to the lot he called home, all the time watching
for Superiors returning late from work. As usual, he swung over the fence,
lifted the door of his solid-color car and fitted it back into place behind
him. Rain and light leaked through a few holes in the shell, but not enough to
drive Draven from his temporary home. He’d chosen a higher end model, as he had
all the vehicles he’d inhabited since finding the lot. He had never and would
never own such a vehicle, as they belonged only to Seconds, but he enjoyed the
defiance of entering a car whose owner would have scorned him from touching it
before it came to rest in its current locale.

Soon
workers would come to dissemble this vehicle as they had his previous homes,
taking the metal and parts to repurpose. For now, his path and the car’s had
intersected in this moment of transition, and he had taken advantage. Perhaps
it did not amount to much of a home, but it suited his needs. The morning rain
drumming on the roof gave him the sensation of being sealed away from the rest
of the world even more firmly than usual, secreted away in his renegade resting
spot.

After
covering himself with dry belongings so light wouldn’t reach him while he
slept, he fell into peaceful unconsciousness, a smile still playing with his
lips.