After the Red Rain (10 page)

Rose was still far in the lead, his arms wide and swinging as he ran, the coat flapping in his wake. But Jaron was closing in, and it would take only one Bang Boy to bring Rose down. Then the others would pile on. And it would be over.

“Don’t stop!” Deedra tried to shout, but she had no breath to spare. She was dead last in this particular race. She had to catch up so that she could…

So that she could…

What? What was she going to do?
Talk
Jaron and the Bang Boys out of their bloodlust? Maybe offer up a second target for them? What would she get out of that?

And she realized without even taking the time to think it that it didn’t matter. Rose was her friend. She would do whatever she had to in order to help him.

Keep running, Rose
, she thought.
Don’t stop until you find somewhere safe.

She didn’t know where “safe” might lurk. They were on a main thoroughfare now. Buildings loomed on either side, but most of them were government housing—Rose would need to buzz in with his fingerprint or brand scan, and only residents could do that. Her lungs were burning by now; how much longer could he run?

Maybe he could turn down a side street… lose them in the maze of alleyways that sprawled throughout the Territory. That was possible.
Maybe then the Bang Boys would split up, and he might have a chance against them one-on-one.

Almost as soon as she thought it, Rose darted to the right with a new burst of speed, putting some more distance between himself and Jaron as he launched himself into an alleyway.

No!
Deedra thought furiously.
Not there!

That way, she knew from long experience and exploration, led to a blind wall, thirty feet or more of bricks and mortar blockading the end of the alley.

Rose had just trapped himself.

The Bang Boys knew it, too. She heard one of them shout in triumph, and they slowed down a bit, now able to take their time. Save their energy for the beating.

Deedra ran all out. She had no plan, but that didn’t matter. She couldn’t get the image of Rose hitting that brick wall out of her mind.
He runs and runs; he thinks he’s safe.… He sees the wall. Maybe he stops. Looks around. But there’s nowhere to go. Nowhere but back. And when he turns…

The Bang Boys fill the opening of the alleyway.

They were there now, she realized, massed together, the five of them nearly shoulder to shoulder, stalking into the alley.

She wished for a drone, but the sky was maddeningly empty of them. Had Jaron arranged this? Was his influence that great?

She paused to catch her breath. She would be no good to Rose or herself if she couldn’t breathe.

From the alleyway, she heard a clang. A pipe against a trash can, maybe. Then a crash. Steel against brick.

A shout.

How did you get into this, Deedra? Why couldn’t you just keep your nose out of it? You’re going to end up in SecFac.

“You let him get by!” Jaron screamed from within the alley.

Deedra crept over to the entrance to the alley. She could make out the brick wall, still as stout and implacable as she remembered.

Where she’d expected to see Rose curled up on the ground while Jaron kicked his head in, the Bang Boys were milling about.

They were alone.

“I did not let him go!” Kent retorted, with heat.

“Well,
someone
let him slip through!”

Deedra crouched low against the wall. What was…?

“Look everywhere!” Jaron ordered. “He has to be hiding. Somewhere.”

The alley was strewn with trash and rubble. Garbage drums and an enormous trash bin stood against one wall. Deedra watched the Bang Boys knock over the drums, sending a resounding series of gongs and clangs into the air. Jaron stood off to one side, fuming, pointing, commanding. Deedra could have burst into flame, and they still wouldn’t have noticed her, so focused were they on tearing apart the alley and scrutinizing every inch of it.

When the drums proved Rose-less, Jaron browbeat Rik and Lio into climbing into the bin. Deedra’s breath lodged in her throat like gristle. The bin was the only place big enough for Rose to hide.

But a minute passed. Then five. Then ten.

The Bang Boys had scoured every conceivable inch of space in the alleyway.

Rose had disappeared. Again.

She should have run, should have vacated the area before Jaron and the Bang Boys saw her. But the impossibility of Rose’s disappearance froze her muscles and locked her into place, staring. She was still standing
there, paralyzed, when Jaron emerged from the alley with Rik, Lio, Hart, and Kent following him sheepishly.

Run, Deedra
, she urged herself as Jaron caught sight of her.
Run, now.

But running would be pointless. She had no head start. They would catch up to her easily. She eyed the pipes the Bang Boys carried and winced at the thought of them on her flesh.

“What are you doing here?” Jaron demanded, getting close. “This is all
your
fault.”

“No, I—”

“Shut up.” He grabbed her by the arm, just above her elbow, and squeezed. Hard. “You were warned, remember? You were told to keep your mouth shut, and you better
keep
keeping it shut. I’ve been patient and I’ve been good to you, but that won’t last forever. So just shut your mouth. I’m in no mood, understand?”

Wrenching herself free, she took a step back. Jaron’s eyes blazed, and she found herself speaking soft and low, trying to calm him just long enough for her to get away. “Look, I’m just going to leave, okay?” She swallowed with great difficulty. “You’re in no mood, like you said. I’ll just go.”

Jaron said nothing. He was staring at her. More precisely, he was staring at her chest. She backed away some more. This? Again?

She swallowed hard and got ready to run.

“Where did you get that?” he demanded and, closing the distance between them, reached out.

She bit back a useless scream and almost turned to run, but then Jaron yanked hard, and she felt the chain of her necklace break against the back of her neck as he snatched away her pendant. It must have flopped out from under her shirt as she’d been running.

“Where did you get this?” he shouted, holding it up in a fist. His face flushed, and behind him the Bang Boys came closer, fanning out behind their leader, pipes at the ready.

Why did Jaron even care? Rooted to the spot, she opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

With a snort and a dismissive jerk of his shoulders, Jaron said, “Doesn’t matter. What matters is that I have it now. Get out of here. You’re useless to me. You and your boyfriend.”

Her legs came unstuck and she began to walk away.

And then she ran.

W
hen the time came for him to rule the Territory, Jaron realized, he was going to need a higher caliber of flunky. The Bang Boys had failed him in the most humiliating fashion possible.

As he stomped into the factory, the belts were running, but everyone was moving slowly. Hundreds of faces gawked at him as he entered. Jaron clenched his jaw. This was his life: He couldn’t leave the factory for even a few minutes without things slowing down. He looked around for Dimbali, that useless piece of trash.

But the longer he stayed on the factory floor, the more uncomfortable he became with the eyes on him. “Get these people working,” he snarled under his breath to the Bang Boys. “See if you can get
that
right today.”

Orders issued to his lieutenants, he stomped up the stairs to the catwalk and into his office. Alone, he gave full vent to his outrage, screaming to the ceiling, then picking up the tab he used to log on to the wikinets. It was only a year old, but that didn’t stop him from hurling it at the wall. Its face shattered with a satisfying crackle, and the wall dented, plaster raining down.

The satisfaction didn’t last long.

Rose was gone. Rose was gone, and who knew how many hours of productivity had been wasted at L-Twelve in the meantime.…

He paced the length and width of his office. This would not do. The video of that day on the rooftop was gone now, but there were still witnesses. Deedra. Rose. He’d thought that they were going to play along, keep their mouths shut. That he had them under his eye, under his power, anyway.

But now Rose was proving that he liked to talk. Questioning what the factory was building. Maybe he would decide to blather about other things, too.

Maybe? More like
definitely. Maybe we could talk about what’s really bothering you?
Rose had said.

That would be bad. Depending on what mood Jaron’s father was in, a charge of attempted assault could go either way. If he woke up on one side of the bed, Max Ludo would laugh and shrug it off and toss the charge into the trash. But if he woke up on the other side…

Jaron could find himself tried. Maybe even conscripted as punishment, sent off to hump a chain gun up a hill in Antarctica.

His vid bleated from the wall. “Please hold for the Magistrate,” said one of his father’s secretaries. Jaron grimaced as the screen went staticky. How long would his father make him wait this time? It had gone as long as an hour in the past. He was never sure if he was being taught a lesson about power or if his father just couldn’t be bothered to talk to him.

After a few minutes of frustrated pacing, Jared paused as the vid lit up again, this time with Max Ludo’s annoyed face.

“I hear you got yourself into some trouble today,” his father grumbled.

Great.
So someone had already passed word up the chain to the Magistrate. Looking for a handout, no doubt.

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Not what I’ve heard,” his father said with a mean little chuckle. “You know what’s worse than being weak?”

“No, Pop. Tell me. What’s worse than being weak?”

“Being strong, but stupid.”

Jaron bristled but held his tongue.

“If you’re weak,” his father went on, “then people have no expectations. You don’t matter. And you can fly under the radar and maybe eke out one of the pathetic lives you see around you all day. Purposeless and dull and pointless, but safe.

“But if you’re strong,” he continued, “and stupid… well, then that’s a problem. You make yourself a target. Because weak people and strong people alike see what you have, and they realize you don’t have the smarts to back it up, to keep it for yourself. And even the weak can be strong in numbers.”

Jaron nodded, mute.
We’ll see who’s strong. And who’s smart. And who’s figured out when to watch his own back.

Max Ludo leaned in close to his own vid, his face filling the screen on Jaron’s end. “So stop thinking about how tough you are and start thinking, period. If you’re an idiot, you’re an embarrassment to me. A liability. Don’t be a liability, Jaron. I have a whole damn Territory full of them.”

“Right, Pop.”

But Max Ludo had already broken the connection.

Jaron gritted his teeth and jammed his hands into his pockets. His fingers brushed against something there: Deedra’s pendant.

He produced it, stared at it as it dangled before him. Then he tucked it away again and pulled up some schematics on his vid.

Yes. Yes, there it was. Just as he remembered it.

Stupid, huh? Well, you’ll see. You’ll see who’s smart, Pop.

He thumbed his comm and barked, “Dr. Dimbali, report to the overseer’s office. Now.”

An instant later his door opened, and Dr. Dimbali stepped inside.

“Where the hell have you been?” Jaron demanded.

“I was—”

“Never mind. I don’t care. When I came back here, Doctor, this factory was in pathetic shape. If I have to leave, it’s your job to keep things on an even keel in my absence. No excuses.”

“Mr. Ludo, the workers were rattled by the—”

“I just said no excuses!” Jaron said in disbelief. Was this guy for real? “I literally
just
said no excuses, and now you’re giving me an excuse!”

Dimbali paused, blinking rapidly. “Well, less an
excuse
, and more of an
explanation
, really—”

“Just shut up. Okay? Shut up and listen to me.” Jaron stood and clasped his hands behind his back. “We need to step things up around here. Increase productivity.”

“Mr. Ludo, we’re already operating at near-peak performance.”

“Then get us
to
peak performance. We’re doing important work here.”

An uncomfortable silence filled the office. Dr. Dimbali programmed the machinery and the vids—Jaron had a feeling that he knew exactly what was being built at Ludo Territory Pride Facility No. 12. No one was supposed to know. Different factories across the Territory—hell, across the City—were building pieces of a larger whole, and no one knew what that whole was.

But Jaron did. His father’s belief to the contrary, Jaron wasn’t stupid. He’d been able to extrapolate from his own schematics and arrive at the right conclusions.

“Yes, Mr. Ludo,” Dr. Dimbali said hesitantly. “We’re doing… very important work.”

Jaron grinned. “You know, don’t you?” He turned to face his second-in-command. “It’s okay. It’s just you and me. You know what we’re building.”

Dr. Dimbali fidgeted. “I spend a lot of time with the schematics,”
he said defensively. “And I get adjustments from the other factories. It’s difficult not to speculate.…”

With a shrug, Jaron waved off Dimbali’s nervousness. “Breaking it up, giving each factory a piece of the puzzle… No one ever thought it would be possible to solve the puzzle anyway. But let me tell you this: I’ve seen the other schematics. I know that L-One is building a control pod. I know that L-Six is working on—”

“Mr. Ludo, please.” Dimbali winced as though in actual pain. “Such things shouldn’t be discussed.”

“Really? Well, what would you say if I told you that I could get ahold of those other components. That I could have a complete unit of my own?”

Dimbali held his breath for a moment, as though not sure whether he believed it. Then he shook his head, pursing his lips. “It wouldn’t matter. If you’ve seen the same schematics I’ve seen, then you know that there’s a component so rare and so guarded, one that no factory is manufacturing. Not here, at least. And without that…”

As Dimbali drifted off, Jaron laughed. He dove into his pocket and produced the necklace, holding it high. “Sometimes, Doctor,” he said as Dimbali gazed, astonished, “if you’re a good person and smart and strong, the world delivers exactly what you need.”