Grip (The Slip Trilogy Book 2) (21 page)

Janice grabs his hand, her fingers like ice. “My boy is so grown up,” she says. “Like a big tree without leaves. Or maybe with leaves. Maybe without branches.”

“Thank you, Mother,” Benson says. “Stay safe.”

He releases her and is the first one through the tunnel. For all he knows Minda and Simon might have their guns already aimed at his back, but he has to hope they don’t. He pulls himself out into the storm, which immediately penetrates his layers all the way to his skin.

Peering through the snowfall, he’s almost surprised when no one shoots him, and Minda and Simon appear on either side. “What now?” Simon says, his hand on the gun in his hip holster.

“Now you freeze and don’t move,” a voice says from behind. It’s not loud, and Benson can barely hear it above the howling wind, but it
is
commanding.

When he turns he’s staring down the barrel of a gun, held firmly by a Hunter standing atop their igloo. Benson’s hands automatically rise above his head, although he knows it doesn’t matter. This is it. Every sacrifice made by his family and friends was for nothing. It wasn’t enough.

To Benson’s surprise, the man doesn’t shoot. “Where’s your mother?” he asks, a question almost as bad as a bullet.

“My mother?” Benson parrots, playing dumb.

“Where’s Janice?”

“I have no idea,” Benson lies.

“Look, kid, I’m not going to shoot you. I’m trying to save your asses. Get your mother out here and let me.”

Benson has no idea what to think. He should be dead. A Hunter has a gun aimed at his chest and he’s not dead. And why does this guy care about the crazy woman who’s his mother?

Maybe there’s a chance, after all. Maybe this guy isn’t the enemy.

It’s a chance he’ll have to take. He drops to a crouch and hisses, “Mom! C’mon out. It’s okay.”

There’s a shuffling sound and Janice mutters, “Tunnels, funnels, tunnels, funnels…”

When she emerges, she raises her arms to the heavens, as if thanking the snow gods for more snow. “Don’t even think about it,” the Hunter says, when Simon starts to slide his gun from the holster. “You kill me and you’re all dead. There are a dozen more Hunters inside the fence and more on the way, and they’re the real deal. I’m your only chance to get out of this alive.”

Minda says, “I think we can trust him. If we couldn’t, we’d already be dead.” Benson can’t disagree—it’s exactly what he was thinking.

“I need to scan your mom,” the Hunter says.

When Benson steps in front of her protectively, the Hunter says, “We don’t have time for heroics. There’s a tracker on her somewhere. I scrambled the signal enough that the others can’t pinpoint her exact location, but I tracked you here. We need to get it out or we’re all screwed.”

Grudgingly, Benson steps aside and says, “Mom, hold out your arms,” which turns out to be a completely unnecessary command as her arms are already out, like she’s trying to hug the falling snow.

The Hunter whips out a long black stick, and when he waves it across her head and arms, it chirps softly. He slides it down her torso and legs, and finally to her shoes, where it lights up red. “Your shoe,” he says. Just before he puts his gun down in the snow to lift her foot, he says, “Please don’t shoot me.”

Benson looks at Simon and shakes his head. If this guy was really a Hunter trying to kill them, there’s no way he’d put his gun down like that.

The guy peeks under Janice’s foot, which makes her giggle slightly, and then uses a small knife to cut out a piece of her shoe. He pinches his fingers together and holds up a rice-size device. “Crap,” Benson says. Well, at least it means Simon and Minda aren’t traitors, he thinks.

The Hunter-not-a-Hunter uses his knife to slice open the device until it sparks. “They can no longer track you but we’re still trapped,” he says.

“What are our choices?” Benson asks.

“I don’t want to blow my cover,” the man says. “All I can do is go back and try to keep them away from this area. I’ll show them the destroyed tracker and say that you must have found it and sliced it out.”

“Why are you doing this?” Benson asks. “Who are you?”

“I’m a friend—that’s all you need to know. I wish I could tell you more.”

Benson has a dozen more questions swirling like snowflakes around in his head, but he doesn’t ask them. The other Hunters could wander by at any moment. Instead all he says is “Thank you. Be safe.”

The man gives a short bow and then turns on his heel and disappears into the storm like a ghost.

“Back inside,” Simon growls. “We should seal the entrance.”

They clamber into the igloo and Simon pulls enough of the tunnel’s roof down to seal them inside. The air will hopefully last until the man has convinced the Hunters that they’re not within the designated search grid. If not, they can always dig their way out, let some more air in, and then rebury themselves.

Benson’s more worried about how the hell they were tracked in the first place. “Mom,” he says. “How did that tracker get into your shoe?”

“Tracker, slacker, packer, stacker,” Janice says.

“Mom, focus. Please.”

“Helped me tie my shoe last night,” Benson’s mother says. “Helped me get them nice and tight, for walking.”

Benson looks at Minda and Simon, who look at each other. “Who helped you?” Benson asks, holding his mother’s hand.

She cocks her head to the side, like a curious bird. “That nice man. You know—Jarrod.”

The snow seems to close in on Benson like a casket.

~~~

Private Forum for Agriculturists, by invite only:

Password required: **********

Password accepted, access granted.

JoseCuervo: Ping.

SamAdams: I’m here.

BloodyMary: Me, too.

JoseCuervo: Any word from ShirleyTemple?

SamAdams: Nothing. But without her real name it’s hard to tell whether she was amongst the dead. I’d say it’s fifty-fifty at this point.

JoseCuervo: Any other news on the Pop Con front?

SamAdams: Yes. We found the Saint Louis Slip and his mother.

JoseCuervo: What!? Pop Con took down the rest of the Lifers? Then ShirleyTemple must be dead.

SamAdams: No. Benson and Janice Kelly weren’t with the main body of Lifers.

BloodyMary: Things are getting interesting. Where were they?

SamAdams: Wait for it…heading for Saint Louis. They got trapped in the storm. Jarrod put a tracker on Janice before they “snuck away.” He played them the whole time. He figured if Benson Kelly wasn’t going to play by his rules, he’d make a martyr out of him. Yet another Slip killed by the evil empire. The Lifer leader sent an encrypted file with the tracking details to a Pop Con analyst. We had them dead in the water…or snow, I should say.

JoseCuervo: You saved them?

SamAdams: Barely, but it was a close call.

BloodyMary: And Janice?

SamAdams: Safe, for now.

JoseCuervo: We need her alive. You couldn’t have brought her in?

SamAdams: No. Too dangerous. I had to lead the Hunters away from them. But when I removed Jarrod’s tracker I implanted one of my own. We won’t lose her again.

JoseCuervo: Good. I don’t have to remind you how crucial her brain is to our mission.

SamAdams: Of course not.

BloodyMary: The only question is: What’s left of it? Her brain, that is.

JoseCuervo: More than any of us may know, I suspect.

BloodyMary: Now what?

JoseCuervo: The end is approaching. Check this forum every hour from here on out. We need to stay focused.

***Chat terminated by chat leader***

“T
hat story is too crazy to be a lie,” Chuck says.

“It’s the dead truth,” Harrison says. “I swear it.”

“I believe you,” Chuck says.

Nadine’s been unusually quiet, Harrison notices. “Nadine?”

“You’re a criminal,” she says quietly. “And she’s a Slip.” Harrison wasn’t originally going to offer the truth about Destiny, but then she blurted it out. Chuck’s eyes had widened and Nadine looked like she was going to be sick.

“It’s not like that,” Harrison says. “Everything we’re taught in school, everything the government says, it’s not the full truth.”

“Why would they lie?” Nadine asks, looking at Chuck. “Your father controls the Crows. I’ve met him. He seems nice. Surely he wouldn’t be involved in a massive government cover up.”

“I don’t know,” Chuck says. “I hope not. But he’s secretive about a lot of things. Just like Harrison’s dad was.”

At the mention of Michael Kelly, Harrison feels a weight press against his chest. His father hid so much from him. So very much. “Your father is nothing like mine,” he says.

Chuck runs a hand through his short, spiky hair. “Why did you find us, Harrison?” he asks.

Harrison tells them about Benson’s Death Match.

Nadine shakes her head, her teeth grinding together. “I don’t even know you anymore,” she growls. “You’re asking us to help two known fugitives kill an innocent man.”

The way she says the word
innocent
makes Harrison’s stomach clench. But he’s come too far to back down now. He’ll do whatever it takes to give Benson the life that he stole from him when he pushed his way into the world first. “I’m asking you to help me correct a great injustice,” Harrison says evenly, tightening his abs to control his roiling gut.

“No,” Nadine says. “I won’t do it. When you went missing, I was
freaking out
, Harrison. And when your mother escaped from the asylum and they said you were involved, I defended you. I told everyone they were wrong, that my boyfriend”—she spits the word out like a piece of bad meat; Harrison notices Destiny look sharply in his direction, but ignores her—“would never do something like that. When I realized I was wrong, I was crushed. They treated me like a pariah, like I was cursed because I’d been close to you.” She glances at Chuck. “Chuck was the only one who stood up for me, who was there for me. He said you’d have wanted me to stick with you. Would you have wanted that, Harrison? Because from where I’m sitting you never even thought twice about what impact your actions would have on me. You and your new Slip girlfriend can rot in prison for all I care.”

Although he wishes they wouldn’t, Nadine’s words slice through him like daggers. The truth is, Harrison hadn’t given a second thought to Nadine when he was doing all that stuff. Sure, he’d liked her, had a good time with her, LOVED making out with her—but that was it. She was just another girl in a string of girls that he’d lined up like dominoes in a row. As long as he didn’t knock one over, there’d be no problem. But apparently their relationship meant a whole lot more to Nadine. She was the domino that’d fallen over, and now she was out for blood.

“I’m sorry,” Harrison says. “I didn’t think. I didn’t realize—”

“No, you didn’t,” Nadine says. “But I don’t need your apology because I’ve moved on. Like way on. Chuck is sweet and thoughtful and, most importantly… Not. A. Criminal.”

Chuck looks embarrassed, his eyes locked on his hands, which fiddle with each other in his lap. Harrison’s about to apologize again because he doesn’t know what else to say but Destiny speaks first. “I know you’re hurt and that Harrison is the one who hurt you. I’m not surprised.” Harrison feels his cheeks heat up. He opens his mouth to interject, but Destiny raises a hand to silence him. “In a lot of ways, I think he’s still that smooth guy you fell for, the one with the quick wit and the one-liners that make you want to throw up and kiss him all at the same time.”

“But hopefully not at the same time…like in my mouth,” Harrison says. “Because that would be gross.”

“See what I mean?” Destiny says. “But he’s also heroic—he saved my life three times—and he loves his twin brother. Or he at least wants to love him. He’s trying to love him. All I know is that I want to help him. If you aren’t willing to help us, I understand. You’re from a different world. You can get out of the car and we’ll leave you alone forever. Just please don’t tell anyone you saw us.”

Damage control. That’s what Destiny’s doing, Harrison realizes. Because of her hatred for him, Nadine is about two seconds away from pushing the panic button on her portable holo-screen. Idiot. Moron. That’s what he is. Blind, too. Clueless. The moment he saw Chuck with Nadine he should’ve realized how this would go down. He’s put them both in danger, which has consequently put Benson’s future at risk. And he can’t have that.

“Please,” Harrison adds, trying to make it sound as heartfelt and pitiful as possible. “Hate me, but don’t hate my brother. He’s done nothing wrong except be born.”

“Maybe that was enough,” Nadine says scornfully. Harrison holds his breath, watching as her fingers brush the edge of her holo. She’s going to do it. He slides his fingers over to the button to open the aut-car door. If necessary, they’ll have to throw themselves from a moving vehicle. His muscles are already protesting, tightening, as if in anticipation of future pain.

“But I won’t turn you in,” Nadine says, slipping her holo into a small purse. “I’m not like you. I don’t abandon people. I suspect you’ll get caught on your own, but I won’t be the one to do it.” With that, she presses the STOP button on the aut-car’s navigation screen and the vehicle eases to a stop.

The door opens, bottom to top, and she steps out agilely. An athlete, even in the most mundane situations. She offers a hand to Chuck.

Chuck looks at the hand, then back at Harrison. Harrison says, “Thanks for listening. It was good seeing you again. Nadine’s probably right, I’m dangerous. Staying away from me is a smart move.”

Chuck frowns, but then nods, twisting around to grab Nadine’s hand, a hand that used to burn fingerprints into Harrison’s chest. “I’ll call you later,” Chuck says to Nadine, kissing her hand. She frowns, starts to say something, but Chuck presses the button to close the door and her words are lost behind the soundproof glass window as the aut-car pulls away from the curb. An old fragment of Harrison’s shattered past seems to disappear in an instant.

He stares at his friend. “You’re helping me?” he says incredulously.

“Of course,” Chuck says. “You’d do the same for me. And anyway, I’ve known you a hell of a lot longer than Nadine has.”

Harrison can’t stop the laugh that bursts from the back of his throat. “Thank you,” is all he can think of to say.

“No problem. But you’re going to owe me big time. I don’t break the law for just anyone.”

“If I survive the next couple of days, we can start talking about ways I can pay you back,” Harrison says.

“I’m sure I can think of something that will duly embarrass you,” Chuck says, laughing. All at once, their laughter fades and the space between Harrison and his old friend seems to widen, like a crack in the earth. Chuck says, “School and practice hasn’t been the same without your cocky ass around.”

Harrison swallows heavily. So quick was he to leave his old life behind that he never once considered the impact his actions would have on his friends. “I’m sorry, man,” he says. “I never wanted any of this.”

“I know,” Chuck says.

Destiny clears her throat, drawing both boys’ attention. Harrison had almost forgotten she was there.

Chuck says, “Your new girlfriend is hot.”

Destiny says, “I’m not his girlfriend. Guys are idiots.”

“Spunky, too,” Chuck adds.

Harrison grins. “Hope I didn’t screw things up for you with Nadine.”

“She’ll get over it.”

“I liked her,” Destiny says. “Except for the whole Slips-are-criminals thing.”

“We all think that way,” Chuck says. “Harrison did, too. At least he used to. We’re programmed to believe what we learn in school.”

“Government propaganda,” Harrison says.

Chuck’s jaw seems to tighten, but then his face relaxes and he manages a lopsided grin. “So you’re looking for a guy?” He pulls out his holo and starts tapping away at the screen.

Harrison provides all the details that Wire gave him before they left. He’d committed them to memory. The only piece of information that was missing was the Death Match’s current location, something that even Wire struggled to obtain. Harrison remembers why Death Match locations are kept so highly secret: so that no one tries to kill them early; which, of course, is exactly what he’s trying to do.

Chuck continues to tap at his screen, and three-dimensional images begin to emerge in front of them, twisting in the air. An old guy’s face, riddled with wrinkles, dark bags under his eyes and a sly smile, like he knows a secret.
The secret to a long life
, Harrison thinks wryly. A long life that ruined Benson’s.

Chuck maintains a constant stream of chatter as he taps. “My father keeps his password on a holo-note above his desk at home. How pathetic is that? The leader of the Crows can’t remember his own password. All right, I’m in. Your guy’s not far. We can be there in thirty minutes.” An address projects into the air. Golden Age Village. 1 Happy Drive. There’s no room number, but Harrison suspects that information will be easy enough to come by when they get there.

With a few deft taps of the aut-car navigation screen and another swipe of his LifeCard, Chuck reroutes their path to the retirement home. The car swings a quick right without slowing down, perfectly in sync with oncoming traffic, which seems to melt around them.

The familiar glow of neon holo-ads permeates the car windows, casting their faces in a silver sheen. Destiny stares outside, entranced. “Ever been to the big city?” Chuck asks.

“Never,” Destiny says. “It’s not safe for people like me.”

“And other places are?”

“Safer,” she says, her eyes never leaving the sidewalks, where flocks of people seek out the hottest spots for night life. Although they’re dressed in heavy layers because of the cold, the weather doesn’t keep them inside, not with the heated sidewalks and snowmelt drainage system used by the city.

“What I just don’t get,” Chuck says, “is how you survived so long. You know, as a Slip.”

Finally, Destiny peels her gaze from outside, settling it on Chuck. She shrugs. “Being cautious, being lucky, being skillful—it’s all the same thing at some point.”

Harrison likes that answer. It’s humble. If he were asked the same question, he probably would’ve taken all the credit for his own survival. Destiny takes little.

“What I also don’t get,” Chuck continues, “is how you convinced Harrison here to help you.” Harrison frowns, noticing a slight edge in his friend’s voice.

“She didn’t convince me,” Harrison says. “I offered. And I’m not helping her—she’s helping me.”

Chuck sighs. “You know, Nadine might be a better person than me, but she’s also a fool.” There’s no mistaking the animosity in his tone now. Harrison instinctively moves further away, sliding protectively in front of Destiny.

“How so?” Harrison says. His hand silently moves to the button to open the door.

“She’s going to burn just like the two of you,” Chuck says, grinning maliciously, his teeth as white as snow.

“Chuck?” Harrison says. “What did you do?”

“What Nadine refused to do. Snitched on you. My father works too hard to allow criminals like you to roam the streets of Saint Louis, causing trouble. And Nadine will get the same fate for knowingly looking the other way.”

A plume of anger streaks from Harrison’s chest to his head, but then dies out almost as fast as it comes, leaving him cold and sad. “Why?” he asks. “Why would you do this? We’ve known each other since we were kids.”

“And yet I don’t feel like I know you at all,” Chuck says.

Harrison closes his eyes, tightens his hand into a fist, and smashes it down on the button, simultaneously grabbing Destiny and pushing her, his body tensing for the impact he knows is about to come.

But it never does. At least not in the form he expected—cold, hard asphalt. Instead his shoulder merely barges into the inside of the door, which doesn’t move. He jams his fist on the button one more time, then again, but it doesn’t open.

He whirls on Chuck. “Open it.”

Chuck grins. “This is a private aut-car my father leases. When I lock it, like I did after Nadine left, it only responds to my commands.” The car eases to a stop.

“Open it,” Harrison demands again.

“As you wish,” Chuck says. “Doors—open.”

With a swish the passenger door opens and Harrison pulls Destiny out into the cold night air.

He freezes the moment he sees them.

Five Crows and at least that many SecurityBots. His heart sinks into his stomach. Destiny is going to die because of him. And he’s failed Benson because he trusted his childhood friend.

“You’re surrounded and there’s no escape,” one of the Crows says, stepping forward. “Come quietly and we won’t have to subdue you.”