Be Nice Page 8

  Janey crawled out of the tent and pressed a button on the top. One of the stolen hunting knives was sheathed on her right thigh. She took the other knife from a mall shopping bag and handed it to Wallis. She retrieved the shock wands from a spot in the sun and inspected their solar bats. She tucked the wands in the hog’s side pouch, tied the folded tent to the rear of the seat, and got on.

  Wallis settled in front of her. “Girl, we can do this. I know we can make it. All we have to do is find somewhere—”

  “We can’t live out under the stars! Like the people in your comic books! We thinkin’ like kids! Like little, dumb-ass—”

  Horses whinnied behind them.

  Startled, they reached for their shock wands.

  The horses from the previous night, still riderless, trotted past.

  Ms. Fallings finished a selli call in Mr. Beams’s office.

  Mr. Dylon entered. “Six Be Nice, they got dusted last night in Sedona.”

  “They made it as far as Arizona?”

  “So what about the art teacher?”

  “She’s going to find out what she can from the other members, like you suggested.”

  “Ma’am, I think we should go to Arizona and handle this ourselves. I mean, it’ll look good on the tele, as well as Pace, Flit, Jack, the news sites—”

  “Forget about Arizona. It’s too hot. We’ll set up and wait for them in southern Colorado, the train’s next stop.”

  “And then what?”

  “It’s simple, Mr. Dylon. We’ll force them to come to us.”

  The bullet trains glided noiselessly over the rails.

  John Tom thrusted his hips. “Who’s my puss? Who’s my puss?”

  On all fours, her ass in the air, Ms. Garner squealed, “I’m your puss! I’m your puss!”

  John Tom spasmed and came with a hushed, childlike whimper. Exhausted, he fell on the side of the bed. “You got a smoke?”

  Ms. Garner stretched for her bathrobe. “You know it.” She groped in the robe’s right pocket and took hold of something. As she kissed John Tom on the chest, she jabbed him in the neck with a syringe of white liquid.

  Ms. Garner called Becky and Pete to her cabin and injected them both at the same time. They passed out on the floor, landing on top of Abe.

  John Tom, Becky, Pete, and Abe awoke in a storage compartment at the rear of the bullet train. They were bound to folding chairs. Ms. Garner positioned a digi-cam on a tripod and aimed it at them. She moved to a control box set on a card table. A row of syringes, filled with pink liquid, was arranged beside it.

  John Tom groggily opened his eyes.

  Ms. Garner flipped a lever on the control box. A light switched from red to green on the digi-cam. She cradled her selli to her ear. “I have them.”

  A Brennan chopper flew east over the L.A. skyline.

  In the cockpit, with Mr. Dylon at the controls, Ms. Fallings adjusted an ear mic. “We’ll be there shortly.”

  Surprised, Ms. Garner turned her back on John Tom and the others. “You’re coming out here?”

  “Yes, I’ve decided to handle this in person.”

  “But, ma’am, I can do this. I’ll bring them to you and—”

  “Your arrangement with us holds. You’ll remain on the art track.”

  Becky, Pete, and Abe shook off the cobwebs.

  “But, ma’am, it might be difficult to explain to the students and other teachers—”

  “You’re to hold the train at the first stop in Colorado.”

  Ms. Fallings disconnected.

  Ms. Garner threw her selli on the card table.

  John Tom cried out, “I swear, woman, if you don’t tell me what the eff’s goin’ on!”

  Ms. Garner took hold of his chin. “It was you, John Tom. You’re the one responsible for this. You’re the one who initially recruited them.”

  “I what?”

  Ms. Garner flipped another lever on the control box. A light labeled INTERNET turned green. She took John Tom’s selli from his pocket and clicked it on. A news report keyed on the display.

  An anchorman said, “Last night, the two fugitives and Blue terrorist operatives, Wallis Barber and Janey Typermass, continued with their reign of terror.”

  Becky perked up.

  Abe turned to John Tom.

  Pete didn’t move.

  “. . . Be Nice officials in the state of Arizona tried to approach them peacefully, attempting to diffuse an already out of control situation, but Barber and Typermass went on the offensive and attacked.”

  Becky pulled at her restraints. “Eff me!”

  Pete leaned forward to Ms. Garner. “Ma’am, I never liked `em. I swear. I never, never, never—”

  “Shut your mouth!” John Tom commanded.

  Pissed, Abe kicked at his chair legs. “So why the eff we back here like this? We didn’t do a got-damn thing!”

  Ms. Garner clicked off the selli. “That’s true, Abe. You didn’t. But did you know that your two friends also murdered Mr. Beams?”

  Silence.

  John Tom bucked in his chair. “No! No way! Forget this! You a damn liar! There ain’t no way Wally-Wal and baby girl Janey—”

  “Be Nice would like to know what the four of you knew about all of this beforehand.”

  “What we knew about…bitch, you must be outta your got-damn mind.”

  Ms. Garner went to the control box and selected one of the pink syringes. She plucked away the cap and forced out a drop of fluid.

  John Tom struggled to free himself. “Bitch, I swear, if you—”

  Ms. Garner touched the syringe to his neck. “So who’s my puss?”

  Wallis and Janey kneeled beside the hog. They were situated on a hillside on the outskirts of a small desert town.

  Janey brushed her fingers through a line of hoof prints in the dirt.

  Wallis touched his wrist implant. “Okay, it’s about six o’clock. We’ll go down there and get whatever we need. We’ll meet back here in an hour.”

  Janey eyed the town. “Baby, it’s kinda weird.”

  “What is?”

  Why didn’t this place show up on the map?”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “Okay, well, how are we supposed to pay for stuff? I mean, all we got are those bank cards on us we took—”

  “Do you remember the mall?”

  “Do you see an empty mall around here? Because I sure as eff don’t. And I really don’t like this, us havin’ to split up—”

  “I told you it’s better if nobody sees us together. A Euro dude and an Afreak chick, they’ll know it’s us right away.”

  A fork of lightning splintered over a cluster of distant mountain peaks.

  Janey scooped a handful of dirt and let it slip between her fingers. “Baby. How are we supposed to live together out here if nobody can even see us together?”

  Wallis wiped the dirt from her hand and gently kissed her palm. “Baby girl, trust me. We’re gonna find someplace safe to live. We’re gonna be together. We’re gonna make it.”

  He helped Janey on the hog and started the engine.

  Janey made her way to the town’s central thoroughfare. Rows of tall neon lampposts revealed centuries-old buildings; shops and storefronts and office buildings and bars.

  Janey skulked in and out of the storefronts, hidden by the shadows.

  The passing townsfolk didn’t appear to notice her.

  The townsfolk were white, big boned, well fed farmer types. The men wore faded jeans, dress shirts, cowboy hats, and cowboy boots. Draped on their arms, the women wore bonnets, pearl necklaces, and colorful house dresses with white, lace collars.

  Janey moved out of hiding and jogged down the thoroughfare.

  An old women swept outside of one of the stores. The flickering neo
n sign on the front door read THE FARM AND FEED.

  The old woman finished with her sweeping and hobbled back inside.

  A bell on the doorjamb lightly rang as Janey followed behind her. The shop consisted of dried foods, sundries, and dozens of small bins containing pots, pans, and a variety of kitchenware.

  Her back to the door, the old woman set her broom against the wall. “We’re about closed. How can I help—” she stopped, choked up at seeing Janey lurking in the doorway.

  Janey’s shock wand touched her palm from the sleeve of her jacket. “Okay, look, I…I ain’t no criminal so…”

  The old woman snatched her broom and rushed across the store. She took a swing at Janey and screamed, “You get the hell outta my shop!”

  Pissed, Janey snatched the broom and tossed it aside. “Okay, woman! Calm down! I’m not gonna—”

  “I said, you get outta my shop you dirty, black monkey!”

  Janey frowned and activated her shock wand. “What did you say?”

  Wallis operated the gas fuel pump. A young attendant watched him from the station office.

  A beep announced the hog’s gas tank was full. Wallis put the pump back in the kiosk and shook his right hand. His shock wand dropped into his palm from his jacket sleeve.

  After she dragged the unconscious old woman behind the cash register, Janey hurried to the shelves and raided the store. She stole six packs of beef jerky, two cans of fresh peaches, two bottles of rain water, a pad of paper, and a box of colored pencils and stuffed them under her jacket.

  The rain came.

  Janey unfolded the hood from her jacket and ducked out of the store.

  Lightning flashed.

  High winds blew.

  Janey struggled down the sidewalk. She was relieved to see a bright neon sign swaying from a building up ahead.

  She charged in, out of the rain. It was a sawdust bar. There was a jukebox, a few tables and chairs, and a red velvet pool table in back.

  Three ancient white men were perched on stools at the bar.

  A middle-aged Native American bartender emerged from a store room. When he saw Janey, he almost dropped the cases of beer he was carrying. He set the cases down, whistled at her, and frantically motioned her over to the pool table.

  With a guarded look, Janey followed him.

  The bartender whispered, “What in the hell do you think you’re doing up here?”

  “I’m just gettin’ out the rain. Why, you got a problem?”

  “No. But you’re about to.”

  Janey could see around the bartender’s right shoulder. The three white men at the bar stared at her.

  “Girl, you best get your ass back to Phoenix. People like you don’t belong—”

  “What’d you say?”

  “Be Nice runs Phoenix. They don’t run up here.”

  “People like me? What the eff’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Okay, look—”

  “And Be Nice, they run everywhere.”

  He noticed the bulges under her jacket. “Jesus, girl, did you steal—”

  “What is this place?”

  “You’re in Jamesville.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So why ain’t it on any maps?”

  “Cuz the people around here like it that way. Now you better get your ass back to—”

  “How old are you?”

  “How old am I?”

  “Y’know, those three oldies and you, and this other oldie I ran into, you all look kinda clear headed.”

  “Girl, there ain’t no meds here.”

  “What?”

  “And you don’t want to start no trouble. Now, listen, I got me a spread not too far from here. You both can stay there for as long as you—”

  “Both? How’d you know there was two of us?”

  The three men pushed off their bar stools.

  The bartender gripped Janey by the left arm. She drew her shock wand, hit him in the chest with it, and knocked him to the floor.

  Two of the old men brandished their bar stools like weapons.

  The third flipped the sign on the front door from open to closed.

  Janey raised her shock wand. “Okay, what the eff kinda place is this?”

  Wallis waited in an alleyway. He touched his wrist implant; it beamed six-forty-seven. As he started the hog, he caught sight of Janey on the other side of the street. A posse of white men, armed with baseball bats, hammers, and pool sticks, chased behind her.

  Janey was out of breath. She ran for another few blocks, but tripped on the sidewalk.

  The white men gathered around her in a semicircle.

  The hog rumbled toward them.

  The semicircle broke ranks.

  Wallis slowed down and kissed Janey as she jumped on behind him.

  The white men attacked with their bats, hammers, and pool sticks. As the hog thundered away in the rain, Janey whirled around and gave them the finger.

  Wallis reformed the tent into a lean-to and lashed it to the rear wheel of the hog. He and Janey sat in the shade and drank from the stolen bottles of rain water. They used their hunting knives to pry open the canned goods, and feasted on peaches.

  “C’mon, that sounds crazy,” Wallis said. “A whole town full of Klanny haters? Are you sure? Because there’s no way Be Nice would let something like that—”

  “They were the same as that oldie in the store. And she even called me a dirty, black monkey!”

  “And you said nobody was on the meds?”

  “That’s what that Native man told me. He also said there wasn’t any Be Nice around, either.”

  “Okay, now that’s crazy.”

  “He said they were only down in Phoenix. And that town, Jamesville, it wasn’t on the map because the people, they like it that way.”

  “I don’t believe it.”

  A voice said, “Oh, you better believe it.”

  Wallis and Janey scampered out of the lean-to.

  The Native bartender was standing at the front of the hog.

  “It’s him!” Janey said. “That’s the Native man from the bar!”

  The bartender lit a cigarette. “They’ll be up here any second now. You two better come with me before—”

  Wallis and Janey activated their shock wands.

  “Look, there’s only a couple ways to get outta Dodge: the main road and this horse trail right here. After that, it ain’t real hard to follow hog tracks in the mud. I suggest you get off your butts and come with me.”

  Wallis stepped in front of Janey.

  “Oh, you mighta changed your looks an’ all, but I know who you are. I caught you on the news last night. You’re Wallis and Janey.”

  Wallis held his ground. “What the eff do you want?”

  The bartender quick-drew a nickel plated thirty-eight. “If I wanted to hurt you, I’d have done it.” He returned the thirty-eight to the waist of his pants. “Me and my people, we ain’t exactly friends with Be Nice. I’d say you’re lucky I found you first…or you found me first before I found…I mean…oh, hell, you know what I mean.”

  “No! We don’t!”

  “Okay, pay real close, boy. They got cars, they got hogs, and they got fast horses. And they got guns. And they are tracking you.”

  “Go on! Get the eff outta here!”

  “Boy, you better listen—”

  The not-too-distant sound of howling blood hounds ended the discussion.

  Janey scanned the horizon. “What the eff’s that?”

  The bartender snuffed his cigarette between his fingers. “Those’re dogs, girl. Mean as hell hunting dogs. Scout’s honor, you two ain’t gonna make it to see nightfall.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  A red pickup truck drove t
hrough a Native settlement of aluminum buildings and heat-battered living pods. Dust curled around the truck’s tires as it came to a stop.

  The bartender jerked a canvas tarp away from the rear bed. The hog was horizontal. Wallis and Janey were huddled beside it, plastic bags of ice stacked on both sides of them. They pushed away the ice; despite it, they were drenched with sweat.

  Wallis righted the hog and climbed on.

  The bartender secured a wooden board on the hitch of his truck.

  Wallis rode to the dirt.

  The communal hall was filled, from floor to ceiling, with Native American artifacts: beads and rugs and headdresses and tomahawks and elaborate turquoise jewelry.

  A round Native woman served plates of synth meat, rice, and refried beans. Another Native woman poured two glasses of water.

  Seated at a picnic table, Wallis and Janey warily eyed the Native women and sniffed the plates of food.

  The round Native woman took a gulp of water and swallowed a piece of meat.

  Wallis and Janey dug in.

  The bartender entered the hall from a corner office and watched as they engorged themselves. “Well, you two’re a long, long way from the beach, that’s for goddamn sure.”

  Wallis responded with a burp.

  Janey wiped her mouth on her jacket sleeve. “So what’s your name?”

  “The name’s Joe Joe.”

  “Joe Joe. What’s your last name?”

  “Middle Horn.”

  “Middle…Horn?”

  “That’s right. My father, he had a wicked sense of humor.”

  “Okay, so what’s the deal?” Wallis grunted. “What do you want? Why’d you help us?”

  “And that town back there, Jamesville,” Janey said, “what’s up with all those Klanny haters?”

  The bartender pulled a bottle of aspirin out of his pocket. He popped two pills and chewed them dry. “Ya see, kids, way out here in the boonies, most of these folks, well, they live by a code. It’s what’s affectionately known around these parts as…The Truce.”

  “Are you crazy or somethin’? Cuz if you are, you should let us—”

  “Young woman, be quiet and pay close. Now the only thing you two know is Be Nice runs the cities, all the major cities. From the west coast to the east coast.”