Be Nice Read online

  He checked her out. She was no older than thirty-one, maybe thirty-two. She crossed her legs from left to right, showing off her nylons and spiked boot heels.

  Ms. Fallings took an infopad out of her coat pocket and worked the screen. “Wallis David Barber, average student, above average artistic, two-parent home, both parents employed by the Shelby Corp. Girlfriend, Janey, above average IQ, single parent home, mother also employed by Shelby. So, Wallis…it seems you have a splendid life here. That’s why I don’t understand why you’re so upset.”

  “I said, I wasn’t...look, I’m not upset about anything.”

  “But, Wallis, I received a call from your art teacher today, a Ms. Garland—”

  “Garner.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Ms. Garner. Right. Anyway, Wallis, do you have any idea why she called me?”

  Wallis’s cheeks became flushed.

  “She told me about your drawing in her art class on Friday.”

  Wallis sat back.

  “Your superhero? The Mighty Morphon, was it?”

  “Yeah. So what?”

  “Well, Ms. Garner thinks that you may be angry about something, Wallis. And she said your girlfriend, Janey, she also thinks she’s angry—”

  “Okay, pay real close. I’m Be Nice. Now I heard all the stories before so you can—”

  “Stories? What stories? Are they juicy?”

  “I know all about you people…you school therapists.”

  “You do? And what do you know?”

  “I know...I know all you hot panty therapists, the ones who like to come and hassle us legal age, young dudes…because you’re only after one thing…THE COCK.”

  “Wallis, tell me about Janus Jones, the Sex Crimer rapist. I’d like to know why you held back.”

  Stunned, Wallis locked eyes with her.

  Ms. Fallings removed her lenses. “You reported about a Mr. Janus Jones on your last confess tape, the one on Friday. You were saying how much fun you and the other members were having, but you stopped recording for some reason.”

  Wallis ran his thumb over the top of his Dawg can.

  “Wallis, I’d like to know why you and Janey didn’t go into the bathroom with the other Be Nice members and have fun.”

  Wallis didn’t answer her.

  “I listened to their confess tapes. They said you and Janey didn’t join in. She went into the kitchen and you went to, what, watch TV?”

  “Okay, listen up—”

  “It’s a joyous thing to punish the wicked! It’s fun! What’s wrong with you, Wallis? Don’t you think it’s fun?”

  Wallis focused on the kitchen table.

  “What is it? You’re drawing strange, angry people in art class! You’re not punishing the wicked! What are you so angry about? Tell me! What’s bothering you?”

  Wallis kept his eyes on the table.

  “There’s thousands of kids out there who want to be selected for Be Nice when they turn seventeen! It’s a privilege!” She reached into her jacket and pulled a shock wand from a side pocket. “But, I mean, who knows, Wallis, perhaps you’re not one of them. John Tom and the other members, they had fun. They had fun when—”

  “I had fun.”

  She activated the shock wand and held it up to Wallis’s face. “Did you, Wallis? Did you have fun?”

  “Yes, I…I had fun.”

  “And what about your girlfriend?”

  “She…she had fun, too.”

  “Are we not living in the best of times? Isn’t everyone having fun?”

  “Yes.”

  Ms. Fallings studied him. She deactivated the shock wand and returned it to her jacket.

  Wallis took a gulp of beer.

  “Wallis. Do you have any drawings upstairs? Ones that no one has seen?”

  Wallis hesitated to answer.

  “If you lie to me, Wallis, you realize I’ll have to report this conversation—”

  “There’s no more drawings, I swear.”

  Ms. Fallings crossed her legs from right to left.

  “Am I…am I in really big trouble?”

  She popped on her eyewear without answering.

  Wallis walked her to the front door.

  “There is one more thing, Wallis,” she said. “You’re not to tell anyone, not even your girlfriend, Janey, that I was here this evening. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  He opened the door. Ms. Fallings marched out to the walkway. Amused, she said, “After your cock? Don’t you wish you were that lucky?”

  Janey checked her wrist implant. Her mother was in the living room, asleep in a rocking chair. A bottle of meds and a coffee mug of wine rested at her feet.

  A light knock at the back door.

  Janey hustled through the kitchen and peeked through the back door peephole. Wallis was there. He beckoned her outside. She opened the door. “What’s your—”

  “We gotta go!”

  “What?”

  “I curbed the hog the next street over! So no one sees it!”

  “What?”

  “The school therapist, she was just at my pod!”

  Wallis drove on the unlit side roads and guided the hog into the canyons.

  A dirt road led to The Wood. Trees appeared, followed by thickets and underbrush. The hog breezed by a group of kids drinking beer, a group of kids smoking pot, and an orgy of kids having sex out in the open. Wallis pulled over and parked. He and Janey backed off the hog. He hoisted a six pack of Dawg from a side pouch by the rear wheel.

  Janey cracked open a beer. “Okay, so what the eff happened?”

  Wallis opened a can of Dawg and chugged it. Janey sat beside him. Behind them, the last four letters of the decayed Hollywood sign spelled WOOD.

  “Baby, talk to me! What happened?”

  Wallis took a long swig of beer. “She just showed up at the pod. This wild-ass lookin’ chick. She flashed this big, shiny badge, got all in my face with a shock wand. Then she said she knew what happened with Janus Jones, the Sex Crimer. She said she knew I held back.”

  “No!”

  “She said she heard my confess tape. I was ice on it. I was, I swear. But I…I was thinkin’ about some other stuff…and I guess I turned off the deck and—”

  “No way!”

  “She also said Ms. Garner talked to her. And Ms. Garner said my drawing in artsy, my superhero, The Mighty Morphon, he looked angry or some shit. Then she said I was angry. Then she said we should be happy about stompin’ Janus, happy to go with John Tom—”

  “Wait, we. She said we?”

  “She thinks you’re angry too.”

  “Seriously? I’m angry about what?”

  “How the eff should I know?”

  Janey finished her beer. She stood and leaned against the WOOD sign. “Ms. Garner, she asked me about my drawing, with the hot sun…she asked me why it was burnin’ up the other planets, remember?”

  “You said you knew I held back, and that I felt the same way.” Wallis pointed to the stars. “If that’s the only thing that matters, why do we stomp? You said that, you did!”

  “But I was thinkin’! I didn’t mean it! It was nothin’ for no therapist—!”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Yeah, it does!”

  “Okay, pay close. She’s prolly gonna go to your pod—”

  “But I didn’t do nothin’!”

  “Then we gotta play along, okay? Act like we’re good! And then on Monday morning we hop that field trip train…and we are long gone.”

  Janey fell in his lap. He put his arms around her.

  “Girl, we’re gonna be ice. But we have to act normal. We have to act just like they want us to act.”

  “You said they think we’re angry? But angry about what?
”

  “Therapists, they get deep inside your head and they—they look for stuff. We draw a few crazy things in—”

  A voice cried out behind them, “Yo, let me get a Dawg!”

  “We Be Nice! Beat it!” Wallis barked.

  “No hassles! I’m ice! Didn’t mean no disre…” the voice trailed off.

  Janey faced Wallis on her knees. “Do you believe in the Dead?”

  “The Dead? What?”

  “John Tom, he was talkin’ to me about—”

  “Girl, John Tom’s full of shit, okay? Don’t you believe anything he says.”

  “But, when I was little, baby…see, I-I knew these two girls—”

  “It’s a lie! Don’t believe it! It’s just John Tom—”

  “This little girl, she used to live right across the street from me. She was there, and then one day she wasn’t there. Same thing at youth camp. There was this girl and—”

  “We’re fine, okay? These are the best of times! Everyone’s happy!”

  “I heard they hit you hard with the big meds. And they make you go away for good.”

  “It’s a lie! And the therapist, she was just doin’ her job, tryin’ to scare us! Makin’ sure I’m right in the head! And makin’ sure you, you’re right in the head!”

  “You think she’ll come to my pod later?”

  “If she doesn’t show by tonight, we’re on that b-train, and we’re gone.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Girl, we are outta here. We are long gone.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  The Los Angeles Bullet Train Station was state of the art. It was an outside concourse made up of fast food restaurants, movie houses, book stores, and fashion outlets. A circular fountain on the peddie walk, where families gathered to take pictures and have their lunch, sprayed multicolored jets of water in the air.

  A convoy of Brennan Learning Center shuttles parked in the main concourse lot. Three thousand wound-up teens streamed out, all clickety clacking on their sellies, yelling, screaming, and pushing one another.

  John Tom dropped out of one of the shuttle’s emergency exits. Becky, Pete, and Abe followed him. Wallis and Janey jumped out last.

  Piercing whistles, then five bullet trains glided into the concourse station. They were aerodynamic projectiles of glossy, polished aluminum and fiberglass with THE NATION STAR LINE stenciled on each of the passenger cars in red, white, and blue.

  A group of Brennan teachers sounded air horns and gathered the students.

  John Tom and the others quickly assembled in line. Holding hands, Wallis and Janey looked around the concourse and eased in line behind them.

  Wallis whispered to Janey, “She didn’t show up at your pod, and she’s not out here.”

  Janey whispered back, “You think we’re ice?”

  “Like I told you, we are long gone.”

  The three thousand students raucously boarded the five bullet trains.

  “Got-damn!” John Tom exclaimed, as he climbed on.

  The bullet train had seven rows of plush, red velvet seats, each with a telescreen placed in the back of the seat in front of it.

  Ice-cold air quietly flowed from the overhead air conditioning ducts.

  Female train porters, dressed in red, white, and blue skirts, blouses, and caps, greeted and politely guided everyone to their seats.

  “Damn, I knew I shoulda brought my horn,” Abe said.

  John Tom, Becky, and Pete sat behind him. Wallis and Janey sat in the row in front of him.

  “Oh, lookie. I bet they gonna make all kissy kissy,” John Tom joked.

  Becky gave Pete a fist bump and said, “You make a baby in here, girl, and you gonna be on the W Line before we hit Texas.”

  The train porters lined up in the aisles. They showed the location of the emergency exits and demonstrated how to lock and unlock the safety belts. They indicated the No Smoking signs, but said as soon as the train was on its way, the signs would be dimmed.

  A Brennan teacher stood in the center aisle and addressed the students. Some students drank alcohol from small flasks, a few lit joints and cigarettes.

  “All right, as soon as we leave L.A.,” the teacher said, “I want all of you to gather in the conference car. We’ll hand out the lesson plans, as well as give an overview of what’s expected of you over the course of the next seven days. The internet will be blocked for the entire trip.”

  John Tom made an offensive fart noise.

  The students applauded.

  Wallis and Janey relaxed as the bullet train glided out of the station.

  The rail brakes came on.

  The students, teachers, and porters were jostled forward.

  Spiked boot heels sounded on board.

  “Wallis Barber and Janey Typermass?” a woman’s voice called out.

  Wallis and Janey held hands.

  John Tom, Becky, Pete, Abe, and the other students looked at them.

  Still holding hands, Wallis and Janey stood and faced the exit.

  Ms. Fallings motioned them off the train.

  An elevator ascended to the office complex of the Brennan Learning Center. Inside, Wallis and Janey were separated by a wall of six men wearing black suits and carrying shock wands. Working her info pad, Ms. Fallings had her back to them.

  The elevator stopped on the top floor. The doors parted, revealing a long, white corridor.

  A sliding door whisked aside to a large corner office. Two chairs were placed in front of a stainless steel desk. A tinted window showed the Brennan sports stadium below.

  Wallis and Janey were seated in the two chairs. They were searched, their sellies taken. Ms. Fallings and the six men moved out to the hallway and shut the door.

  Photographs of young people decorated the walls of the office; black and white photographs of Be Nice members from all over the world.

  Wallis took Janey’s sweaty hand.

  A side door opened.

  Wallis and Janey looked to the front of the office.

  With a smile, Mr. Beams walked in through the side door. He wore a black, three-piece suit that was tied at the waist with a bright, red and yellow striped sash. His thick-soled, black war boots reflected like freshly polished mirrors.

  Wallis and Janey didn’t move. They didn’t breathe.

  Mr. Beams eased onto his desktop. “Mr. Barber and Ms. Typermass…good morning. So…let’s see...would you care for some water, or perhaps a light refreshment…oh, wait a minute, I know.” He laughed. “How about two ice-cold cans of Dawg?”

  Wallis held Janey’s other hand.

  Mr. Beams motioned to the photographs on the walls. “So, tell me, what do you think of them? I took some of them when I was on my first field trip.”

  Wallis swallowed a knot of fear and said, “Mr. Beams? Sir, me and Janey, we’re…we’re really sorry. We didn’t mean—”

  Mr. Beams raised his hand for silence. He trained his gaze on Janey. “So, tell me, Miss Typermass…and, please, do not lie to me…where were you on Saturday evening?”

  Janey stumbled over her words. “I…I was…I was at my pod with my—”

  Wallis cut in, “Sir, we both went up to The Wood and—”

  “Wallis. Stop. Now, I believe Ms. Fallings told you not to mention to anyone, which included Janey, that she was at your pod on Saturday. But you chose to disobey her. Is that correct?”

  Janey straightened in her seat and folded her arms across her chest.

  Wallis watched her out of the corner of his eye.

  Janey leaned forward. “Sir, I was in my own pod. And when I’m in my own pod, I can say and do whatever I—”

  “Janey,” Wallis interrupted.

  Mr. Beams moved off his desktop. He towered over them.

  Wallis turned back to him. “Sir, we
…see, what happened was, me and Janey…Ms. Garner, she saw some of these drawings…”

  “That’s enough!” Mr. Beams commanded.

  “Oh, eff this,” Janey said. “We ain’t gots to sit in here—”

  “Young lady! You will speak in proper English!”

  “We want a lawyer!” Janey countered.

  Surprised, Wallis turned to her.

  “Me and Wallis. We didn’t do nothin’.”

  Wallis grabbed her arm. “Baby, what are you—”

  “Well, we didn’t! What, we can’t even draw what we want now?”

  “Janey...”

  Janey glared at Mr. Beams. “We drew some bad stuff, we didn’t stomp that Sex Crimer! You wanna Dead us? Fine! You go `head and you Dead us!”

  Mr. Beams moved with the speed of a lightning strike. He slapped Janey across the face and knocked her to the floor.

  Wallis jumped up.

  Mr. Beams leg swept him and dropped him to the floor next to Janey.

  Mr. Beams then straightened his tie and went to a fridge unit behind his desk and took out three Dawg beers. He handed one to Wallis, one to Janey, and cracked open the third. He helped Wallis and Janey back to their seats.

  Mr. Beams sipped his beer and suppressed a burp with his fist. “Wallis, Janey, did you know there were cannibals in this area at one time? People were hungry, they were suffering, they were dying. The air was heating up, all the cities were flooding, sea creatures were taking babies right out of their cribs. Now, look, one hundred years have passed, and no one is hungry, and men, women, and children can safely walk the streets.”

  He finished his beer and squeezed the can.

  “You get to play for thirty-five years and, after that, you go to work. And when it’s your time, you pass on, and the next wondrous generation takes your place.”

  Janey opened her can of Dawg.

  Wallis set his on the floor.

  Mr. Beams flopped in the chair behind his desk. He opened the fridge unit, took out another Dawg, and sipped it. A deeper burp, and he spun around and looked at the foot-soc stadium. “Wallis, Janey, answer a question for me. Are you two planning on having kids? Two per each family unit, that’s the rule. There are, of course, cases of triplets and such, but no one forces you to have them. Do they? Or maybe you don’t want kids, perhaps it’s an accident…we allow you to nuke them.” He turned and focused on Janey. “Now don’t you think that’s a pretty good deal?”