"Oh my God. What makes you think that? Why would they want to keep them as pets?"
"It'd be more like they want to breed them so that the new Wildlings would do what they say."
"But
why
?"
He sits up, wincing when he bangs his knee in the process.
"You're not really that naive, are you?" he asks.
"I don't know," I say. "I've been told that it's just a matter of time until different factions try to get Wildlings to join them. Government, industry, gangs. I guess that makes sense, since they'd be useful for spy and strong-arm stuff. But breed them—like pets?"
"They think that way they'll be assured of loyalty."
The concept sickens me.
"How could they even do that?" I ask. "I heard that nobody has the first clue about what makes a Wildling. Supposedly, Wildlings are genetically the same as humans, right down to their DNA."
Rico shrugs. "That's what these people are trying to find out: what makes Wildlings different. Or maybe they're trying to redo something. I heard a rumour that researchers have been working on crossbreeding animals and people for years, and that's how come the Wildlings first started showing up here. They messed up—lost the formula or something and it got loose in the general population."
"Do you believe that?"
Rico just shakes head. "I don't know. There are too many stories. Another is that this is a last-ditch effort by the old spirits to reclaim their lands. The Indians lived in harmony with animal people for a long time, but ever since the Europeans showed up, they've been steadily losing their sacred bonds with the land.
"The ironic thing is that everybody wants a piece of it except for those who've actually become Wildlings. A lot of kids just want to turn back the clock to how things were before they changed."
I think about that. Life was simpler before, that's for sure, and I definitely wouldn't be in this mess right now. But the longer I've had the mountain lion under my skin, the more comforting it feels. The more normal. I like how it amplifies everything. My hearing. My sight. My endurance.
I realize I don't want to go back to the old normal anymore. Like Nira says in her blog, we should revel in our gift, not turn our backs on it.
Once again, I find myself wishing I were just waiting out this couple of hours in silence, but Rico goes on. "I guess sooner or later, somebody'll figure it all out," he says. "The people holding us here have a lot riding on it. It's not just about developing perfect servants, soldiers and spies. Think about the aging population. Baby boomers are getting near pension age. Imagine the big bucks waiting for anybody who can provide a way for them to feel young and strong again."
"You think it would actually work like that for old people?"
Rico smiles. "It doesn't matter what I think. What matters is what people like the ones holding us think. If they believe it's a possibility, they'll throw everything they've got into it—including kidnapping kids like us."
He's probably right. I feel myself sliding into depression. Maybe Elzie and the ferals are right, too—that it's such a huge mess that we
should
just get rid of everything and start over. But then I think of my mom and my friends and I know I could never get behind anything that would hurt them or other innocent people.
For sure there are a lot of unethical humans, but not everybody's like that. It's just a small percentage. Unfortunately, that percentage always seems to hold all the cards—and they probably will unless we can figure out another way to deal with them.
I'm still trying to keep my spirits up, but let's face it. This has been the worst day of my life. It started with finding out that one of my friends had committed suicide and now look where I am.
"It's a pretty shitty world," I say.
"No, it's a great world," Rico says. "Only a few shitty people screw it up."
He holds up a hand suddenly.
"You hear that?" he asks.
As soon as he says it, I do. It sounded like the clang of a door. And now I hear footsteps. Two pairs.
"This doesn't make sense," Rico says. "They never come in here at night. Maybe it's because you're new and they were watching to see what you'd do."
"What do we do?"
"Nothing. Play it cool. Maybe just the guards saw us talking and they're only coming to check up. Soon as they see we're still safely locked up, they'll leave."
I stand up. I don't want to play it cool. I want to set the mountain lion loose on whoever comes through that door.
"And if they don't?" I say. "If it's somebody coming to experiment on us?"
"They always gas you first," Rico says. He gives a nod in the direction of the ceiling. "It sprays down from nozzles up there."
I look up. "I don't see anything."
"They're up there. Trust me. They're built right into the ceiling."
The footsteps are right outside the main room now. Something whirs inside the door, then it hisses open and they step inside. A man and a woman.
Marina
"Did you hear what he called me?" Desmond says as we go into Computerland. "He called me 'bro.'"
I have to smile. Trust Desmond to focus on that.
"I wouldn't make too much of it," I say.
"No, I think it's a sign of respect, you know? He didn't call anybody else 'bro.'"
"Nope. Guess that means you're in the gang now. Have fun with that."
"Ha ha," Desmond says, bumping my shoulder. "If anyone's in the gang, it's you. He obviously wants to jump your bones."
I ignore that and steer us over to the laptop displays. "Why do you care what anybody thinks of you anyway?"
"I don't. But, you know. I'm not a Wildling like you guys, so it's kind of cool that he likes me."
It's not busy, so a sales rep approaches us before I can check to see if any of the laptops are online. Normally I wouldn't mind talking to him. He's cute—almost as tall as Desmond—with wavy brown hair that keeps falling across his eyes, no matter how often he uses his fingers to brush it back. He smells good, too. Clean, no cologne. His nametag reads "Evan."
"Can I help you find something?" he asks.
"Hey, dude," Desmond says. "What can you tell me about this Toshiba?"
I drift away as Evan starts to describe the machine. Halfway down the aisle, I stop at another laptop. I wake the screen from sleep mode and do a quick check for the online icon, then open a browser. Down the aisle, Desmond is playing especially dim with the sales rep, who's doing a great job of not sounding annoyed.
A few Google searches later and I have nothing. I find a schematic of the whole commercial area around the complex, but nothing for the ValentiCorp building itself. I try rephrasing my search, but have no better luck.
I shouldn't be surprised. If they can hire all those security guards, they certainly won't have anything easily accessible online.
I rejoin Desmond and lean against him.
"I'm bored," I say.
Desmond is quick to get the hint. He gives Evan a "what can you do?" raise of his eyebrows.
"Thanks for your time, dude," he says. "I'll be back."
Evan hands him his card, which Desmond sticks in his pocket and we saunter off.
"Nothing?" he asks when we're out of Evan's hearing.
"Not even close. It was a good idea, but I guess it was a long shot that they'd have something like that online."
"Some companies do, for their employees. I'll bet it's in their own computer network."
"Yeah," I say, "behind some firewall that we'd never be able to crack."
We stop and look at each other.
"Barry," we say at the same time and trade high-fives.
Desmond takes out his phone and makes the call.
"Barry," Desmond says when the connection is made. "I need your help, dude."
"Wait a minute," I hear Barry say, thanks to my Wildling hearing. "Tell me what's up with Josh. I saw you guys in a YouTube video of the FBI taking him down. Where the hell do they come off thinking they can pull crap like that?"
"It's not the FBI."
"They've been saying that on the news, but come
on
. You don't buy that crap, do you? Those guys were totally Feds."
"Except they weren't. They were from ValentiCorp. They kidnapped Josh and we need you to help us hack into their computer system."
"Are you shitting me?"
"I wish."
"What do they want with Josh?"
"They think he's a Wildling," Desmond says.
"Yeah, and I'm bopping Joanie Jones. Seriously, man, no joke, why are you calling?"
"I just told you."
"You
really
want to access ValentiCorp's servers?"
"We need a floor plan of the building," Desmond says, "so we can figure out where they're keeping Josh and how we can get in there."
"Not going to happen. Their security's like an impenetrable vault. I mean, think about it. They're always dealing with military contracts and shit like that. They've got firewalls up the doo-dah."
"You make it sound like you've already tried to get in."
"I might have taken a run a time or two—just to see if I could."
"So you can't help."
"I didn't say that. We can't access ValentiCorp's servers, but the Santa Feliz Zoning Commission? That'd be a piece of cake. You don't get to build something that big without filing a gazillion schematics and blueprints."
"How fast can you get in?"
"I'm already in. I've been working on it as we speak, m'man. Now, let's see. Crap, these are big files. How much free storage have you got on your phone?"
"How would I know?"
"Pathetic," Barry mutters, then adds, "Where are you right now?"
"The Computerland building across the parking lot from ValentiCorp."
"Give me fifteen. I'll bring what you need on a laptop. Hang on …
this
is interesting. Have you ever been to Disneyland?"
"Dude, that's like asking me if I've ever been to the pier."
"Yeah, yeah. Well, you know how Disney has that huge service space underneath, with a whole network of access tunnels and stuff?"
"I've heard about it," Desmond says.
"ValentiCorp has the same deal under their parking lot. It stretches right under all those box stores like the one you're in."
"What does that mean?"
"It means we can probably get in through a back door."
"He can't come with us," I tell Desmond.
He holds up his hand to me. "That's great," he says into the phone. "Get here as quick as you can."
"Fifteen minutes," Barry says.
Desmond snaps his phone shut.
"He really can't come," I repeat. "We might have to change shapes at some point. He can't be part of that."
Desmond smiles. "Yeah, I guess there's that thing you have about us seeing you naked."
"Desmond, I'm not kidding and you have no idea what you're even talking about. My point is, too many people already know who shouldn't."
"Okay, I was just making a joke. I get it. You wish I didn't know because you think I'm going to betray you."
"No, I don't. That just came out wrong. You know what I mean. You know how Barry loves to talk."
"What else could I do?" Desmond says. "We need those plans. Let's wait for him to bring what we need and then we can deal with it."
There are a couple of long benches outside Computerland, where shoppers can take a break, I guess. When Desmond and I exit the store, Auntie Min and Tomás are sitting on one bench, Elzie, Cory and Chaingang on the other. ValentiCorp can still be seen in the distance, spotlights emphasizing its towering height.
Desmond plops himself down on the seat between Elzie and Chaingang, then leans toward Chaingang and says, "We're on it bro. Best computer geek in town's coming over here to help us."
Chaingang gives Desmond a considering look, then gets up.
"Getting a bit crowded around here," he says. "I'm gonna send my crew off. Let 'em get a bite to eat."
He saunters around the corner and I take his seat at the end of the bench.
I hope Barry gets here quick and that we can keep our Wildling identities under wraps. He's too connected to the Net and geek-land for comfort.
"Barry's great," I say, "but let's not share any of our, um, personal stuff, okay?"
"Well at least it's not just me that you don't trust," Desmond says.
I elbow him in the ribs as we watch the motorbikes pull out and Chaingang walking back toward us. The bikes go in the opposite direction from ValentiCorp.
When Chaingang gets back to where we're waiting, he pauses, looks at the empty space beside Tomás, then shakes his head and comes back toward our bench, where I'm sitting. I slide over toward Des, so there's just enough room for Chaingang to sit on the end beside me. Desmond snickers and I elbow him a little harder this time.
"Like the man said, it's a bit crowded," I tell Desmond. "Scoot over a bit and give us some room."
"Nah, it's cool now," says Chaingang.
Desmond can't suppress another silly grin. I give his arm a little push and he shifts toward Elzie, giving me a bit more space.
Chaingang leans across me and looks down the bench toward Cory. "Hey, coyote boy," he says. "How come the old lady didn't mention you when she was talking about the old-school clans?"
Cory shrugs. "Nobody trusts us. We're like the crow clans and the buzzards—carrion eaters, so we're always on the outside."
"Raven's a carrion eater, too, but they all seem to give him big props."
"Yeah, but he made the world. Bad-mouthing him would be like talking back to the Thunders."
I give Chaingang a little push and he sits back straight again.
I look at Cory. "Those Thunders—are they even real?"
"What do you mean?" Cory says.
"Do they actually exist, or are they more like mythical gods or something?"
"They're the big mysteries," he says. "Some say they're pieces of the Creator, some say they're his voice."
"Is one of the Thunders this guy called Raven?"
He shakes his head. "Raven just made the world. Something had to make him first."
"You buy all that?" Chaingang asks him.