We Are the Revolution
We weren’t the Revolution to start off with; no, that wasn’t until later. First, we were the Excrement. The Filth of the Earth. The Dirt of Humanity. The Piss in the Pot. Whichever you prefer, though the last one was a favorite among Them.
Who’s “Them”? You know who “Them” is; there’s one in every good story (and two in the confusing ones but I don’t want to get things complicated). “Them” is the Bad Guy, the Evil One, for the literary kiddies out there it’s the Antagonist. But, hey, beans are beans and it’s all the same to me. Our “Them” is a bunch of “they”s.
How’s that work? Well, I guess I’ll have to start at the beginning.
My name is Rufio. Pronounce that “u” like a double “o” and you’re okay. I’m a street rat; we all are…well, most of us anyway. I’ll get around to Julia later.
Who is “we”? We were the people your parents told to stay away from. We were the people that got degrading stares when we came out in public. That scuttling sound you heard in the alleyway? That was us. The echoes of whispers in the dark? Ours. We were a rumor and reality, everywhere but never there. We are a plague to Mankind but we are Mankind. Or what man will become.
The government had tried to keep everything all hush-hush but then there were too many of us to dismiss, to many to hide. The public was becoming aware of our existence, slowly but surely. Everyday I woke up in my hidden loft above the plasma screen sales shop expecting to hear the fatal words from one of the newscasters in the display window. Everyday I’d wake up and listen and everyday I’d hear the same thing: weather, sports, stock market, local disasters, and politics. If the last two were put in one category no one could tell the difference. The President wasn’t in good favor then, the economy was slouching, and everything was run by republicans.
Personally, times couldn’t have been better. I had a roof over my head (very close and very literally), a massive stash of pilfered goods I could sell, and plenty of opportunities to restock my supplies. I was just about settled in where I was and had a great system goin’ on in the Underground with a steady profit coming in. In other words, I was set, doing well, good to go.
Then it happened.
It was a really bright, sunny morning in July and too hot to be sleeping in, which was what I was doing. I was broiling under the covers and I didn’t care but after a while the light seeped through the cracks in the roof’s wood and lit up even the black behind my eyelids. I remember rolling out of my sleepin’ bag and landing with my ear pressed against the grimy paneled floor. The TVs were on below and turned up louder than usual. The words were spoken in an experienced news voice ringing with authority (which I usually ignore) and monotonous urgency (which I usually don’t). The words stormed through my head, completely ignorant to their own meaning.
“This just in from Washington,” said the lovely Ginny Jennings, “there has been a raid on a local warehouse, the contents of which were undisclosed. The robbers are none other than a group of bestial humans with supernatural powers.” She paused dramatically to let it all soak in. “I repeat, the robbers are humans with supernatural powers. Yes, that’s right, folks; there are mutants among us.”
In all the hours I had spent worrying and planning about that moment, I’d never thought my fate and the fate of the Underground would be announced in such a cheesy way.
“Aw, crap,” I said, rolling onto my back. I jumped up and started shovin’ stuff in my sleepin’ bag.
“We’re screwed.”
I grabbed every piece of clothing I owned and layered it on. In my world you take only what you can carry. Anything else’ll tie you down. When my sleepin’ bag was a quarter of the way full I rolled it up tight and stuffed it into my backpack. Wouldn’t fit elsewise. I slung the pack over my shoulder and crawled up through a hatch in the roofing and onto the graveled top. From there I could see the whole business section of the city up until the skyscrapers on the outer edges. Two-story shops never did well in the city and the ‘scrapers were the heads of corporations.
I felt uneasy on the roof top, like everyone in the tall buildings was leering down at me, fixin’ to yell: “hey, look! There’s one! Get him!” But no one did.
I crouched low and ran across to the other edge of the roof, gaining speed like no human could. I jumped the ten-foot span to the next building and landed on my feet at a run. I always land on my feet. I did the same with the next five buildings (the bakery, butcher, barber, pizza place, and shoe store, respectively) then scuttled down the rough brick walls of Phil’s Music, ending up in an alleyway off of Fifth Street.
Now, for some odd reason, the alleys were always sectioned off into three parts by either wood or chain-link fences. They must’ve served their purpose once-upon-a-time, but now all the druggies hung out in the middle part because the cops’re too fat and too lazy to jump the fences. Well, I wasn’t, so I did. The thing was about eight-foot high but there were some stacked crates I bounded back and forth between to get up there enough to reach the top. To go the whole eight feet in one jump was, in my opinion, showing off and since no one was with me I didn’t see the point.
I perched on the thin ledge of the two by fours that made up the rickety fence and peered down. There was a couple a crackpots smokin’ away at whatever the new crap was on the market and one of my guys chewin’ on a chocolate cigar, pretending to be a waster along with ‘em. He was one of the in-between men; he’d do anything for anybody for almost any price just so long as it didn’t conflict. He was sort of a freelancer but not all the way. He had his ties in with on of the druglords. Right then he was scouting for me, keepin’ my route clear, though undoubtedly had done some business for his ‘lord while hangin’ out with the unfortunate lot of screwballs he was with at the moment.
I teetered on the ledge and fell with a purposefully loud thump! To his credit, my guy didn’t start, but he couldn’t keep the glazed-eyed stare he’d probably been using the past two hours. After a while his eyes met mine. He didn’t smile a greeting and he didn’t relax. He was a very good scout. He knew something was up.
“You lookin’ t’ buy sumthin’, boy?” he asked. The half-eaten cigar hangin’ off his bottom lip didn’t even bob when he spoke.
“I’m lookin’ t’ sell,” I said.
“Whatchu be sellin’?” he asked slowly, his beady eyes never left my face. I could see myself in his eyes, a willowy punk youth not so tall, but not so small, to his mind. “Be it sumthin’ bad for me health?”
“Very bad,” I said, watching fear creep onto the youth’s face in his eyes. I banished it immediately but not fast enough for my liking.
“Perhaps we shud be discussin’ this sale sumwheres more pry-vatt, hmm?” he suggested, quickly getting the drift.
“Perhaps we should,” I agreed.
My guy took his time gettin’ up, staggering about like a drunk and swaying like a true druggy. He bumbled around, gathering up his few raggy things, then wobbled over to the manhole cover in the center of the pavement. He lifted the heavy plate with feigned difficulty, fumbling with the lid several times yet not overdoing it. He descended slowly with a few dreamy mutterings and I followed after. I closed the lid using the bar we had attached on the other side years ago. Cli-unk! And the lights went out.
We went down the first portion of the ladderway in silence. The top level of the undercity echoed real bad and you could hear it ever so faintly above ground. I didn’t care if it was just a bunch a crackpots up there, I didn’t want anyone to hear us. As a rule in the Underground, it never hurts to be overcautious.
Me and my guy hit the floor and started off at an easy lope. Go any faster’n that in my part of the Underground and you’re in trouble. Urgency always attracts attention no matter how low-key you try’n keep it. We slowed down as we neared the entrance to the second level of the undercity, gathering our composure and our breath. A lot of the Underground were mutants. Most were animorphs, like me, and could smell fear as much as they could smell sweat and hear ‘em both coming a mile away.
We unscrewed the submarine-like hatch to the second level ladder and hopped down the gapping hole without a sound. My guy went last and shut the thing behind us.
“Your acting keeps gettin’ better and better,” I said as I climbed down the ladder. “Anything to that, Trapper?” I glanced up at my guy; it was darker in the second level but I could see him about as clear as daylight above me.
“Naw, you know how I feels ‘bout that, Rufi,” he said with a look to the side to make sure he wasn’t gonna hit the wall of the narrow shaft. “’Tidn’ smart t’ get hooked on your own stuff. ‘S bad for business.”
“Just good acting, then?” I said to make sure.
Trapper nodded. “Good actin’ ‘s all.”
“How’s the missus?” I asked after going down a few more rungs. There was always something new with the missus.
“Pregnant again,” Trapper said. He sounded rueful but I knew he loved his kids more’n anything.
“How many’s that, now?” I asked. “Seven?”
Trapper smiled. “Eight. Sandy says that’n’s the last.”
He glanced down to see my face and I gave him a knowing look.
“Ye-ah,” he said agreeing, “that’s what I’m thinkin’.”
“Nine’s a good number,” I said and he nodded.
“Nine’s a ver-rah good number.”
I hopped off the second rung from the bottom and landed lightly; I knew the last step was broken on one side and wouldn’t hold even my weight. I helped Trapper down. He wasn’t built for quiet landings. His legs weren’t quite long enough to reach the ground and his arms were too short to lower him any further. Trapper was taller’n me but it was all in his torso. Sandy and the kids were the same way. It was a genetic thing, the lengths of limbs and body. The sharp angles of their faces, long noses, small dark eyes, and large mouths full of overbitten rodential teeth were all just regular characteristics of the breed.
The second level of the undercity was louder than the first and warmer, too. You could feel the collective body heat from the third level under the floor. Vibrations carried through the air to tickle my skin. I could sense breathing all around me.
I closed my left eye, plunging my world into the limited vision of humans and everything went black. I used to dark to heighten my senses. And then I could smell them all, each and every one of the twelve around us. Eleven of ‘em were mine and one was a rental. My gut clenched tight. I was missing another rental and I had a bad feeling about it.
I opened my eye and let the right one shift into infrared. To my left was the young Captain of the Guard. He was thirteen and fairly new to this side of the street. He’d been workin’ the Aboveground for two years as an independent pickpocket when I found him. He’d made an impressive lift off of the wrong person and landed himself deep in a ton of trouble. I fished him out ever so discretely and brought him to the Underground where he’d been workin’ for me ever since.
“Robin,” I said out of the corner of my mouth as I searched the ranks again to make sure I wasn’t wrong. I wasn’t. “Where’s Smiley?”
Robin frowned and shook his head.
“He ditched us last night for a raid in Washington,” he sneered, “Said his boss had a better offer.”
“He back yet?” I asked. I figured I knew the answer.
“Hadn’t seen ‘im since,” my captain confirmed coolly.
I shoved my hands in my pockets and looked at the mucky ground, thinking. I caught Robin studying me out of the corner of my eye. I looked up at him blandly and pursed my lips. I could see the movement of his eyes as he tried to read my face. I just sucked in a breath and expelled it, slouching when I was done.
“Oh,” Robin said. His eyes widened and his mouth made and “o” like a fish. “Oh, oh, oh. What’d he do?”
I straightened up a little. “I dunno,” I said. Not every ‘lord in the Underground would admit that. I shook my head and looked Robby directly in the eyes. “There was a raid in Washington last night,” I said slowly, quietly. “Didn’t finish packin’ up ‘til morning, my guess. I dunno what happened but….”
I could feel their eyes on me. There aren’t any eyes more eerie than animorph eyes. They’re animal eyes in a human face or, worse, the other way ‘round. Doesn’t matter. Freaks me out every time I see myself in a mirror.
I looked around, gathering my guys up, makin’ sure they were listening. I could see the greenish gleam of light off every set of eyes. I knew they all looked at me, watching the only pair of mismatched red and green jewels in the dark. Aren’t I poetic?
My gaze ended back up on Robby.
“They know,” I said in a whisper that I knew couldn’t carry the words more’n ten feet. The death toll of ‘em seemed to echo on forever in the dark tunnel.
My guys were silent. I could feel Trapper’s steady even breath on my neck but his pulse was loud and racing. All theirs was. The troops turned to their captain and Robby turned to me. He was as calm as the rest. When he’d joined up with my band he’d known he was leaving his life in my hands, just like all the others. And now was the time they would find out if they’d chosen good or bad. With absolute trust, they all turned to me to decide their fate. Julie would’ve cried.
“What do we do, Russian Blue?” Robin asked, using my code name in our relay system. The irony of the rhyming was lost on the moment.
I looked past my guys to the rental on the outside of the group. I figured it’d be a good idea to let him go with the word. His ‘lord’d owe me one then. I’d need the favor soon enough.
“John,” I called him over.
“Yessu’,” he said, taking a few steps forward.
“Loan’s over,” I told him. “Go back to your ‘lord and tell ‘im what you heard and where you heard it from. He’ll appreciate it.”
“Yessu’,” John said with his serious dog-smile and rushed off.
“Trapper….” I said, turnin’ around.
He nodded knowingly and left. He had some bad news for his ‘lord. And I had another favor I could call in. I watched his heat trail ‘til it faded out. The pavement went back to its normal infrared blue-green.
“Bat-bird,” I said to Robin, “You take half the men and go find all my major sources and warn them. Make sure they know they owe me.”
Robby nodded and I continued.
“I want three guys down here and two on the first level. Scouts,” I reminded him, “Quiet ones.”
Robby separated out the men as I spoke and sent the two first-level scouts ahead. The three second-level scouts he told to fan out and secure as far as they could without leaving sight of either one another or the hatch.
“Where are you going?” he asked me.
“Up top,” I said, taking hold of one of the ladder rungs and heaving myself up. “Gonna start pullin’ in my surface guys.”
“How long should we wait for you?” Robin sounded concerned.
Rightly so; that druglord he lifted from wasn’t too happy that the boy was still alive. Robby was only safe as long as he was under my protection. But I think it was more’n that. He was like a younger brother to me and I knew he thought the reverse of me.
I looked down at him from my spot on the ladder. “Don’t wait,” I said. My voice seemed to drop like lead on his face. He knew what I meant. “And don’t send anyone. The Co-op’ll live or die as it is.”
Robby nodded. “Careful,” he warned.
“Yeah,” I said and started climbing up the ladder again.
The druggies were still there when I got to the surface. Still there and still high. Apparently Trapper’d done a good bit of business for his ‘lord with those guys. I figured it’d be safe there for at least another hour.
I adjusted my baseball cap, makin’ sure the bill was throwin’ a shadow over my eyes. I took a pair of tinted glasses out of my jeans pocket and slid them on. I’d stashed my pack near the Sixth Street ladderway and traded my street clothes for something more surface-friendly. Today I was playing the part of a young high-schooler on summer break. It was the least conspicuous costume I could think of; they were everywhere.
I climbed the other fence and headed out onto Sixth Street. I had some business to take care of; Stray Dogs to catch and Fish to reel in. A lovely metaphor if I do say so myself. How’s it a metaphor? You’ll see.
I smelt the first one even before I stepped outta the alleyway. He was across the street and up two stores to the right, sittin’ on a bench in front of his restaurant, O’Reily’s Sub ‘n Pub. He was a Fish, one a the guys I kept on the surface to help things stay running smoothly.
Bryan O’Reily was an informant, a messenger, and the only man alive I knew of that could cook a mean pot a chili without givin’ you indigestion no matter how gassy you were to begin with. But most importantly—okay, well, second most importantly; that chili’s really good—Bryan was a conductor for the Underground Railroad. Sorry, Harriet, the name fit too well to pass up.
The Railroad hadn’t been used yet but the time was coming closer. The whole system was meant to evacuate mutants to the undercity when they couldn’t live in the Aboveground anymore. Since the humans had found out we existed I knew it wouldn’t be very long before the tunnels’d be flooded with people. I had to make sure everything was ready and all my guys were safe before we started lettin’ civilians in. Heck, most of ‘em didn’t even know about the tunnels yet. But the civies’d find out soon enough and they’d do anything to get down there with their families and be safe.
I looked both ways down the street then I crossed, careful not to attract too much attention. On the other side I strode with an easy but purposeful walk up the sidewalk and didn’t stop ‘til I was standing right beside Bryan. I sat down casually on the bench, next to him. He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. He was wearing his chef’s apron and he smelled like fried onions.
“You heard?” I asked, slouching in the seat.
“Yup,” Bryan said, starin’ straight across the street.
“You set?” I folded my hands in my lap and began to twiddle my thumbs.
“Yup,” Bryan said, still starin’.
“I gotta leave you up here ‘til the end,” I said. He knew already but I was just makin’ sure. “That okay?”
“Always has been,” he said. He blinked and turned to look at me. “Never thought it would happen like this, Rufi.” He sighed and shook his head. “What a bunch of blubbering idiots, raiding a government warehouse. We really botched it up this time, didn’t we, Rufi?”
“Yup,” I agreed, “We screwed it up pretty good. I’m just hopin’ the Co-op’ll pull through.”
“Prob’ly won’t,” Bryan said.
“Yeah…”
Bryan leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “Smiley’s all over the news. Benji, too.”
“Aw, not Benji, too?” I sat up a little. This was new. Bryan nodded. “Crap,” I said, “he was a good kid.”
“There’s more,” Bryan said. “They’ve started a Hunt. They’ve got a hotline, too. See anything suspicious and you’re supposed to call. They say they’ll send police to investigate.”
“More like poachers, I’d guess,” I said. Bryan nodded.
“Right now they’re just looking for the rest of the raiders,” he said. “But once they’ve found them they’ll go after us surface ones, claiming we had something to do with all this.”
“They’re half right,” I said.
“Yeah,” he said. “Well, by then it’ll be beyond the raid. The civilians’ll prob’ly be shooting us left and right, however they chose, and get away with murder.”
“They already could,” I pointed out. “A lot of us aren’t in the System. We’re like animals to them. When they look at us they won’t see another human; all they’ll see is a creature to exterminate. We’ve known it’d be like that all along.”
Bryan leaned back and ran a hand over his face. “Yeah, well, knowing is a lot different than seeing,” he said.
I stood up to leave and smiled.
“Don’t go comittin’ suicide for at least three months now,” I said smiling wider. “I’ve got a debt to a friend I gotta take care of first.”
Bryan laughed. “Did I really sound that bad?” he said with a quirky smirk.
“Naw,” I said, punching him on the shoulder. “I just wanted you to shut up; you were makin’ me depressed.”
“Yeah,” Bryan laughed again, swackin’ me back. “Get goin’,” he said with a smile. “I know you got more Fish to bring in. Don’t worry, this one’s still on the line.” He gave me a friendly shove down the street. “Now, scoot! Sounds like you’re going to have a Stray Dog on your hands in a little while. Good luck!”
I jogged down the street a little then turned around and stuck my tongue out at him. He did the same then smiled and waved me off.
It was always fun talking to Bryan. And he was such a normal guy no one’d ever think he was a mutant. That’s why he could stay on the Surface ‘cause unless they went around and tested everyone for mutant DNA he’d be safe. There was nothing weird about him at all; he was the epitome of average. And he was almost completely unattached, no wife, no kids, just parents that lived out in Ohio who had no clue that he was any different from the rest of ‘em.
I passed twelve of my guys on my way to Seventh Street. I gave each one the same message: They know. I want you down within a month, any longer’n that and you’re on your own. I met two on Seventh Street and I told them to leave in a week. They were some of my best guys and I didn’t want to risk losing them. I sent one young fellow, Landon, down immediately. He talked too much and I felt it was no longer safe to keep him Aboveground. Subconsciously, I was hoping some crazed civy’d just shoot him on his way there. He was annoying as anything and you couldn’t get rid of him any other way.
Seventh Street was a residential business area. All the buildings were two stories either with a top floor or a basement as living quarters. There were three duplexes on Seventh Street. One street over was Church Street. I’ll let you speculate as to what was on that road. And after Church Street was the beginnings of the semi-ghetto residential area. Every city’s got one so don’t act like it’s taboo to talk about it. Even if it is.
Anyway. I was headed to the Seventh Street jeweler’s. My friend was there, the one I owed the favor to. He’d helped me out once and I’d promised to do this thing for him when the time’d come. I figured it’d be pretty soon but he had no way to contact me and I really needed a timeframe, now.
I stopped outside a green and brown two-story place. On the door in fancy gold letters was its name and street numbers:
Cane’s Jewelry
14
The outside was the same as it had been only the paint looked newer and the door didn’t hang crooked on its hinges anymore. Everything else was the same. I hoped our arrangement still was.
I straightened my hat and glasses, took a deep breath, exhaled, and marched slowly up the few steps to the door. I relaxed my face a little and widened my eyes. It was the classic doe-eyed look of a timid child. Never hurts to look more innocent than you really are. I didn’t know what I would find in there; the display window had a black background to it that I couldn’t see behind so I didn’t know who all was in there. I’d thought I’d heard a female voice but I wasn’t sure if it was a customer or not. Never can tell with jewelry shops.
I grabbed hold of the doorknob, turned it, and stepped inside.
A little bell rang above my head as the door opened.
“Go ahead and look around,” said the girl from behind the counter. She barely looked up from her customers, a young couple pointing and whispering about various rings in the glass showcase. “I’ll be with you in a minute.”
I took her advice and began to walk around but I wasn’t interested in the merchandise. The place had changed a lot since I’d last been there. The walls had been repainted, now they were a warm beige instead of a harsh white. The shaggy carpet was gone, too, and I wondered if the hardwood flooring had always been underneath it.
There were several big mirrors on the walls. At first I’d thought they were just for the chicks to admire themselves in then I noticed that I could see all the other mirrors by lookin’ in just one. I was bettin’ from where the girl was behind the counter that she could see the whole room by looking in any one of the mirrors. Danny Cane was a smart man.
It took the girl behind the counter twenty minutes to get rid of her customers. The chick left with one of the more expensive pieces on her finger and the guy left a little short on cash. Not a bad sweep for a novice. Then again, it was Danny’s girl. What more could you expect?
“Sorry you had to wait,” the girl said with a pleasant salesman smile. “How may I help you?”
“Yes, um, is Mr. Cane in?” I asked, playing up to the part of a nervous kid. I looked at the ground and shuffled my feet.
“He is,” she said, stepping out from behind the showcase and headin’ up the stairs. “I’ll get him for you.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” I said politely.
“No problem,” she said and stopped on the fifth step. “Dad!” she yelled. “Someone here to see you!”
“Who is it?” Danny boomed back.
“I don’t know!” the girl yelled. “Come see for yourself!”
“Cheeky girl!” Danny bellowed.
“Old man!” his daughter bellowed back. She trotted down the stairs again and smiled at me like I hadn’t heard any of it. “He’ll be down in a minute.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” I said again and she ignored me and went back to her spot at the register.
I heard Danny Cane thuddin’ down the steps before I saw him. He’d always been a bear of a man and it was no different now. He had the height and build of a lumberjack with the clothes to match. He was Paul Bunyan with curly red hair that stuck out like a ‘fro, floppin’ over his big ears so you could hardly see ‘em. He had a big mouth full a big square teeth and small bright eyes that were tucked away into creases ‘cause he was always smilin’.
“Rufi boy!” he thundered as he picked me up and about choked me in a bear hug.
“It’s nice to see you, too, Lumber Dan,” I managed to cough out.
He let me down quick and thumped me on the back to make sure I was alright. He stepped back, put his hands on his hips, and gave me a once-over, twice.
“Wow, you’ve changed,” Danny said. “You’re not the nine-year-old I knew anymore.” His smile turned into wonderment. “What’s it been, six years?”
I nodded. “Goin’ on seven.”
“Wow!” Danny exclaimed, slapping himself on the forehead and staggerin’ back. He’d always been an…expressive person. Loved the theater. “Time sure flies, don’t it?”
“Sure does,” I said with a lopsided smile.
Danny gathered me in with one gigantic sweep of his arm and I stood like a son by his side. Danny turned to his daughter.
“We’re going upstairs,” he said, “to make fun of Justin—you remember Justin, don’t you? This is his boy,” he thumped me on the back. Without waiting for her to nod he continued. “Keep shop, will you, while we reminisce? You’re doing a good job.”
“Sure thing,” she said with a smile and a nod. “Good luck,” she said to me. Her smile turned mischievous. “You’ll need it.”
I laughed and we jogged up the stairs. Danny was talkin’ all excited and asking a bunch of questions without waiting for me to answer. He laughed a lot and made a lot of noise. When we reached the top of the stairs he let out a huge guffaw and started in on one of those “do-you-remember-when…” stories. He opened the door to his office and ushered me in. He glanced around the landing to make sure his daughter wasn’t following then let the door shut with a good-intentioned slam.
“Forget reminiscing,” Danny said his face suddenly serious. “You haven’t got time for it and neither do I.”
“Not much to look back to, anyhow,” I said.
“The “good old times” were never that good to me,” Danny agreed. “Does our contract still hold?”
“I dunno. Does it?” I returned.
Danny nodded. “It does, then,” he said. “Is everything set?”
“Yup,” I confirmed, “all I need to know is when and where.”
Danny paced the room, thinking, then pointed at the ground with both fingers.
“Here,” he said. “This room. By the window. Can you make the jump?”
I edged over to the window and looked out. We were maybe ten feet off the ground and there was a dumpster just across the alleyway. I pointed to it.
“Move that over here,” I said, “and it’ll be easier gettin’ back down when we leave. Less noise than if I moved it, too, and quicker all around.”
“I can do that,” Danny said.
“When do you want me to make the pick-up?” I asked.
Danny flunked—yes, that’s the sound he made—down in one of those swivel office chairs. It about tossed him out ‘cause it shot back under him as he leaned forward. He smiled sardonically and shook his head. I shrugged and he motioned for me to sit down on the couch across from him. I did, gratefully; it wasn’t everyday that I got to sit on a couch as nice as Danny Cane’s. He was a jeweler after all.
“I have a bad feeling about August,” he said, “so let’s try and do it then.”
“That’s fine,” I said. “When in August?”
“I really don’t like the twenty-eighth,” he told me, putting his head in his hand.
“How ‘bout the twenty-seventh, then,” I suggested, “or is that cutting it too close?”
Danny shook his head. “No, twenty-seventh’s fine.”
“Gotta be at night,” I reminded him.
“Yeah,” he said.
“About what time?” I asked.
Danny scratched his head, thinking. “Between ten and twelve,” he said after a while.
“Eleven sharp, then,” I said. “And use the same signal as last time?”
“Yeah,” Danny agreed.
“You gonna tell her?” Danny was lookin’ at the floor and I tried to catch his eye.
“I wish I didn’t have to,” he said. He wouldn’t look at me.
“Tell her no more’n a week before,” I told him. “Don’t give her time to think about it and we might be able to pull this off.”
“Yeah,” he said. He didn’t sound convinced and I didn’t believe him either. I knew he wasn’t going to tell her. More work for me. Yay.
Danny looked up at me. “How are things going in the UG?” he asked casually.
I slouched back in the couch and got comfortable. “I don’t think things’ll be too bad,” I said. “We got everything pretty well covered.”
“That’s good,” he said. He sounded like he meant it.
“Yeah,” I said, “but it’s our fault with the raid and all. Washington’s gonna get the brunt and I don’t think they’ll be too happy ‘bout that.”
“You think it’ll affect the Co-op?” Danny asked. He may have been on the Surface for a long time but he wasn’t quite out of the loop just yet.
“I dunno,” I said. “Hope not but you never can tell. Like I said, they won’t be happy but I’m thinkin’ they’ll forgive us…after a while. Co-op’s too important to screw up over something like this. They know that.”
“What about the Railroad?” Danny asked. Apparently he had some connections left.
“That’s for the civies,” I said. “They either stay and fend for themselves with us or we’ll ship ‘em off somewhere else. All of ‘em’s too much strain on the Co-op.”
Danny nodded, comprehending. “There’s a phone on the first floor by the stairs. Go call your parents,” he winked at me, “and tell them you’re staying for lunch. Say it loud and make a show; Julia likes to eavesdrop.”
I did and she did. We had an early lunch. We talked some and joked around while munching on tuna fish and pimento cheese sandwiches. Every story was a lie, every question was planned, and every answer rehearsed. It was loads of fun and the girl didn’t know the difference. I told you Danny loved the theater. Besides, when you’re on the Street you learn to act. Me and Danny were very good; we’d had lots of practice.
I left around one. Danny and his girl were all cheerful and waved me goodbye from their doorstep like I was a long-lost relative. I waved back and then they went inside. I headed back to the Underground, thinkin’ Robin would be glad to know everything was on schedule as planned. I was glad, too; nothing ruins a person’s day more’n the unexpected and we’d had enough of that already.
This is an intermission.
I bet you never thought you’d see that in a book. Well, they have them all the time they just don’t call ‘em that anymore. I dunno what they call ‘em. Anyway, this is an intermission ‘cause even though rambling on about nothing is fun it can get boring after a while and I’m sure you don’t want to go through all that. I don’t so I’ll sum up quick and get back to the story.
The Co-op had a rough first two weeks but after that everything smoothed out pretty good. We kept a steady trade system with our five neighboring cities and Washington. If we didn’t have something one of them would and we could trade them something they needed for something we needed. It was an ingenious plan if I do say so myself. We were fixin’ to start an outreach program to bring in the other cities. The bigger the Co-op the better, right? More goods to go around.
We also needed some more cities to send people to. We’d started to let the civies come through the Railroad to the Underground when the co-op’d settled down some and things were startin’ to get overcrowded. The Underground’s not like the Surface where you can build and build and build, it’s already as big as it’s gonna get, and since it was my plan all the civies had to stay in my area. It was a good thing that I’d been ambitious when I was younger. By the time I was twelve I’d gained control over all of the second level and now I was using every bit of it.
We sectioned off part of the level as a containment unit. Couldn’t have all those civies wandering around all over the place, now could we? Bad for business. Anyway, we were workin’ on a deal with some nearby towns to ship ‘em out to. We were already sendin’ the families to their relatives if they had any. The loners either joined us or found somewhere else to go. I thought about fixin’ up a tutor system for them, Operation Stray Dog, but there weren’t too many volunteers. I don’t blame ‘em; unless you have roots in the Street or something it’s hard to adjust. But the idea was out there.
I had Robby quadruple the patrol and no one went in or out without my or his permission. The ‘lords didn’t mind just so long as I didn’t ask too many questions. I wasn’t that stupid. If I kept to my own business they’d keep to theirs, that’s the way it usually worked. I gotta admit there’ve been exceptions but it hadn’t happened to me yet. I was hopin’ it wouldn’t ‘cause nothing kills a reputation more’n being known as a softie.
I got around; I heard what they thought of me. The Russian’s gone soft, they were sayin’, he’s helping the civies. Yeah, well, I’m helpin’ the civies, so what? I was a civy once and so were they, they’ve just forgotten. They blame the civies for what they’ve become; they don’t realize we’re all in the same boat or better than the civies ‘cause we’ve been hidden and safe—well, “safe”—all these years. We were prepared for all the crap they were gonna throw at us but the civies…they had nothing to go on.
Excuse me for seeing the big picture and having a heart for it, but it seems to me, and I’ve tried to tell the ‘lords and everyone else about it, that if we help the civies now they’ll help us later when the Co-op fails. And it will fail. Mark my words, it will fail, there’s no way around it. Sooner or later, someone’ll make a bad deal and then the whole city’ll refuse to trade. The rest’ll get offended and they’ll refuse to trade and so on and so on ‘til everything falls apart.
The way I see it, if we get in good now, the civies we helped’ll be grateful to some extent and might be willing to bail us out when the time comes. That’s the thing about the Underground, no union of any sort’s gonna last long because everyone’s lookin’ out for only themselves and not anyone else. It’s all about me, me, me, I, I, I, gain, gain, gain. It borders on anarchy but it’s not chaos. There’re always those unwritten rules everyone knows about but in the undercity they’re ignored more often than not. But give us a break, we’re all just tryin’ to survive. I just want to take as many people with me as I can.
I realize I’m rambling like I said I wouldn’t, sorry. I went off on a tangent. Hope you don’t mind. I don’t care either way but it’s courteous to say that even if I’m not gonna listen to your answer.
Anyway. I’m on track now. I had to get that out of my system. I might as well keep tellin’ the story before I switch subjects again and bore you to sleep. Have you ever read “The Old Man and the Sea”? It’s a great book for that. I fell asleep nine times tryin’ to read that thing—no offense, Hemmingway. You’re dead so I don’t think you care but—yes, that’s right, back to the story. Well, here goes….
Despite, or maybe because of, all the things goin’ on in July and August they passed quickly and it was the twenty-sixth before I knew it. Well, not really, it’s just figurative but you get the drift. It was August real fast. My spot above the plasma screen shop was still safe so I was hangin’ out there in the mornings and some parts of the night. I don’t trust the Underground enough to be sleepin’ down there. It’s bad enough on the Surface but in the undercity it’s worse. Not in persecution, no, that’s a Surface thing; down in the undercity it’s assassination.
On the twenty-sixth I went out to Seventh Street. I used the alleyways and sewers; it wasn’t the time to be seen. Remember the Hunt Bryan told me about? It got worse. There were police crawling all over the streets, they were at every corner. They had dogs. And they had orders to kill. There were no lawsuits because the bodies always disappeared. No evidence, no case, no murder. No mutants.
No freedom.
It was the afternoon and I was wearing a hat and dark sunglasses. It was bright out so I didn’t look too dorky. The hat was on backwards to cover up my hair. I said too dorky. Danny had already moved the dumpster under the window and I jumped on top of it. The first floor had a mega security system but the second had almost nada. The window opened from the inside only when the lock was on and that was easy to bust and easy to repair. Danny’d so considerately told me so when we’d had lunch together. Apparently my “father” installed security systems and Danny wanted to know if he’d be willing to do the upstairs for him.
I popped out the window screen and picked the lock. The glass pane slid up easy and I hauled myself in. No one was there; Danny had taken the girl to Bryan’s for lunch and their orders were takin’ an almost suspicious amount of time to get ready. I’d decided to stop at Sixth Street before I’d got to Seventh, after all. Today was a good business day for O’Reily’s Sub and Pub.
I took two pieces of paper from a sticky pad on Danny’s desk. I quickly scrawled a note on one and put the other in my pocket for later. I slapped the note on the window:
I never got out of the habit of writing my “P’s” and “R’s” backwards; that’s what comes from havin’ no real schooling system.
I fixed the lock, hopped out the window, closed it, and put the screen back on. I went around to the front in a ‘roundabout way, takin’ the alley way behind the store to Church Street then comin’ back around. I went up to the front door and tried the handle. Locked. I knocked, listened, then pulled out the second sticky note when no one came to answer. I leaned up against the door and carefully printed out another note:
Hey Danny,
Came by to look at security system. Saw you weren’t home. I’ll come back tomorrow.
Justin Mc.
I stuck it at the top of the door a little above Danny’s eye level so he’d see it and maybe not his girl. It was a two-fold message. One, I was still on the job and, two, go look upstairs. I double checked to make sure nothing was backwards then I tucked my hands in my pockets and left.
The next day I stayed in the Underground as much as I could, keepin’ a close ear on any reports from the Surface. Everything was clear. All day long everything was clear on Seventh Street, it was freaky. I mean, usually there’s a little something here and there, a few guys from the ‘lords headin’ to Seventh, but that day there was nothing. Come to think of it, the whole week’d been freakishly quiet on Seventh, no one really comin’ in or out. A little alarm went off in my head tellin’ me there was gonna be a hit there, tonight, probably not ‘til late at night or early in the morning. I made a mental note to warn Danny. I wasn’t gonna risk blowing it all just yet. Six years of planning was too much to throw away.
I left the Underground at 10:15. It was really dark but I still wore my baseball cap. I’d turned it around and pulled the bill over my face just in case some cop decided to shine a light in it. Shades’d be stupid at night, even with my vision they would hinder lots more’n they helped. I used my Fifth Street exit and slowly worked my way out to Seventh Street. I was in a hyper-alert state, using every alleyway, rooftop, and sewer I could, going out of my way to stay hidden. I hid at every noise, paused at every corner, and only crossed a street if absolutely no one was there.
I saw a group on Sixth Street headed up my way to Seventh and I knew something was up. They had an off smell about them and I knew what it was. It was an animal smell like the scent of the outdoors mingled with crack. They were some of the druglords’ guys fixin’ to make a bust. I figured I knew where they were headin’, it was the only place worth the trouble. I made a quiet beeline to Danny’s.
The dumpster was still there and I got on top of it. I meowed our signal loudly and urgently. This was bad, very bad. I heard Danny rush to the window and throw it open. He forgot to unlatch it so the lock busted off and flew out the window.
“Just a tabby,” he replied. His voice was tense. He backed out of the way and I leapt up onto the sill.
“Danny,” I said, holdin’ onto the wall to steady myself, “there’s a group headin’ this way. I think they’re gonna try and hit your store. What do we do? You still wanna do this thing?"
“How many?” he asked.
“Ten,” I said, “and the cops’re nowhere. I dunno what they did with ‘em.”
Danny pressed his lips together, thinking. There was a loud thump downstairs and the alarm went off. A gunshot sounded and the thing went silent. Danny’s mind was made up for him.
“We go,” he said, pickin’ up the phone and calling 911.
Julia burst through the door right then. “Dad—”
“I know,” he said. He smiled at me. “I wondered why you were early.”
I didn’t smile back; it wasn’t funny.
Danny turned back to the phone. “Yes, hello? I’m being robbed,” he said.
Julia looked at me, her eyes popped out of her head, and she stepped back. “What are you doing here?” she accused.
“Long story,” I said, steppin’ into the room. I grabbed her arm and tugged her after me. “Let’s get you dressed.”
We went across the hall to her room and climbed over piles of junk to get to her closet. Girls’re disgusting; my room’s cleaner. I threw open the closet door and she let out a yell of protest. I ignored her and pushed through all the frilly bras hangin’ up in her closet to get to the clothes behind them. It was a two layer place, you know, with two bars to put stuff on. I paused, plucked out a plain white one, and threw it at her.
“You’ll need that,” I said. Give me a break, I know about some of those crazy sleeping habits women have.
The girl gave me an indignant look but kept the bra. “Turn around again and I’ll kill you,” she threatened.
“No worries,” I said, digging through her stuff.
Everything was bright. Horrible reds, oranges, and yellows. Well, no horrible, just not what I was hoping for. I saw one neon green thing and I ‘bout gagged. It hurt my eyes just lookin’ at it. I found a lone black shirt way in the back that I pulled out and a pair of dark pants. I tossed them and some tennis shoes at her.
“Put those on,” I said and dived under her bed to fetch out a jacket and some gloves.
“Don’t come out!” she shrieked. “I’m not done yet.”
I heaved a sigh. “You need anything from the bathroom?”
“Everything,” she replied instantly.
“That’s not what I meant,” I said.
“No,” she humphed indignantly, then more nicely, “You can come out now.”
I handed her the jacket and the gloves and she put them on. I heard Danny runnin’ down the stairs and I rushed out after him.
“Danny!” I cried.
“Too late!” he yelled back. “Cops won’t come ‘til too late!”
And there was a crash at the bottom of the stairs. I heard a bunch of grunts and moans and swearing. Glass broke and wood cracked. There was a gunshot, a yell, then silence. There was the soft shuffling noise of jewelry being swept into plush velvet bags. I crept down the stairs and I saw Danny. He was sprawled in the middle of the floor. Blood and glass was everywhere. The robbers looked pretty beat up and weren’t nearly as rowdy was they’d been before. I looked back at Danny. He was still breathin’ so I went upstairs again.
Julia was standin’ at the top of the stairs, all doe-eyed and anxious. I grabbed her arm, towed her into the office, and closed the door quietly. I called an ambulance then wiped the phone and door handle down with some scotch from the bottom drawer of Danny’s desk. I lowered the girl out of the window first then went after, wiping it down and closing it. We jumped off the dumpster and started out in that easy lope I mentioned earlier. We didn’t stop and we didn’t talk until we reached the cemetery on Church Street. We slowed to a stop at the gate.
“What just happened?” the girl asked in a dangerous voice.
“Can we talk about this later?” I tried. It didn’t work.
“No,” she said, her voice all deep and scary, “we’re going to talk about it now.”
I gave her a wry look. “Where do you want me t’ start?” I asked in the same tone.
Julia waved her hands around like she was gonna pluck the question from the air. “Who-who are you?” she finally fished out.
I shrugged. “I’m dead and you’re missing, what does it matter anymore?”
The girl grabbed my collar and lifted me off the ground.
“Don’t give me any gay answers,” she growled in my face. “You talk straight or I’ll make you wish you weren’t.”
All of a sudden I had a feeling my job’d be a lot easier’n I’d thought. She’d got the threatening part down well. I was bettin’ she could make good with that threat, too. Had the strength to do it, that was for sure. I figured Danny must’ve trained her. He’d known it’d come to this for a long while, he’d probably tried to prepare her.
“I’m who I said I was,” I told her. “My name is Rufio.” I made my voice sharp. “That’s all you’ll ever know if you keep this up. You’ll be dead in a day doin’ this where we’re goin’.”
“We?” she sputtered, throwing me down. “There is no “we”.”
I picked myself up off the partially graveled ground in front of the cemetery gates and shook loose the pebbles and dust.
“There is a “we” if you want to live,” I said, adjusting my hat. “There is a “we” if you ever want to be with your dad again. You’ll never survive on your own, not the way things are goin’ now. Your friends and your neighbors, all the people you trust, will turn on you and you’ll have nowhere to go, nowhere to hide, unless you come with me.”
“Why would they “turn on me”?” she asked. She even did the whole quotation things in the air. I hate it when people do that. Bunch of skeptics.
“Because you’re different from them,” I said, poking her hard in the chest so she staggered back. “And they don’t like “different”.”
The girl made one of those “oh, yeah, right” noises. “How am I “different”?”
She did the quotation thing again and I slapped her hands down then showed her my own. I flexed the long fingers and claws popped out of the ends, right under the nail. I shoved them in her face so close her eyes crossed to look at them then dropped them to see ‘em myself. I flexed the fingers again and again, watchin’ the claws slid in and out of their sheaths.
“This is how you’re different,” I said, holding my hands out again.
“No,” she said. Her voice shook and her eyes watered. She’d gone all pale and quiet. “No,” she denied again.
I reached out slowly to take her hand and show it to her but she jerked away.
“Why me?” she busted out cryin’.
“Why any of us?” I returned, tryin’ to be gentle. “It’s just the way it is.” I took a step closer to her and she didn’t shy away. “Danny asked me t’ take care of you and I’m gonna keep that promise.”
“He knew, didn’t he?” she asked abruptly.
I nodded. “He didn’t always know,” I said.
Julia snuffled a bit and wiped her eyes. “When did he find out?” she asked, pulling her hands into her jacket sleeves and foldin’ her arms.
“Not long before I met ‘im,” I shrugged, “so maybe eight years ago.”
“Long time to be keeping a secret from somebody,” she said with a weak smile.
“He was saving you,” I told her. She rolled her eyes.
“Yeah. Right,” she huffed, “He was saving himself.”
I shook my head. “You don’t understand.”
“Then explain it to me,” she said simply.
I glanced around. “Not here,” I said, “and not now.”
“Why not?” she asked, workin’ up a fit again.
“Have some sense, girl!” I said beatin’ her to it. “We’re a street away from a rob-ber-ry. The cops’ll be ‘round here in no time and the way things’re goin’ they won’t just check out Seventh, they’ll check out Sixth and Church as well. Now’s not the time t’ be lollygagin’ around, so let’s go!”
I grabbed the girl’s arm and managed to pull her forward a few steps before she tugged me back.
“Where are we going?” she asked. Her eyebrows twitched down a little.
“Underground,” I answered, tuggin’ her after me again. She pulled back. Again.
“Promise me you’ll tell me everything when we get there,” she said. Her voice had gotten all dangerous again. She made sure I was lookin’ at her. “Everything,” she repeated.
“Sure,” I said and turned to go. She stopped me before I could run off.
“How do I know you’ll keep your promise?” she asked.
“You don’t,” I said. “You just gotta trust me.”
I tried half-heartedly to shrug her off. She didn’t let go.
“My dad said to never trust a mutant,” she declared in a snotty way.
“Smart man,” I said, givin’ her a look. She didn’t catch it ‘cause my hat threw a shadow over my eyes. “He’s right; never trust a mutant, they’re just like humans, filthy beasties.” I gave her a lopsided grin. “Now, we animorphs have a natural aversion to lying.”
“Go,” she said, shoving me. She glanced back the way we’d come. “I hope Dad’s alright.”
I heard a faint echo of an ambulance in the distance. “He’ll be okay,” I said but she kept lookin’ back over her shoulder as we loped along.
“No,” she said after a long moment of silence. “He won’t.”
I didn’t look at her and she didn’t look at me.
“You’re right,” I said. “He won’t.”
