Proxy (16 page)

He straightened his jacket. Marie sat frozen to her seat.

“Marie, go wait in the car,” her father said. It came out almost as a whisper.

“Please, don’t—” she began.

“To the car!” her father yelled.

Marie stood slowly and nodded at him. She trudged from the room looking about as willful as a vacuubot.

Knox wished he could remember more about the girl from school or from parties. Anything that would help him understand what was going on.

“She’s a good girl,” said her father when Marie had gone. “She means well.”

“It’s for her own good.”

“I wonder if our children will ever forgive us for protecting their futures,” Marie’s father mused.

Knox’s father shrugged. “They’re children. We don’t need their forgiveness.”

“You’re not so sentimental, are you, Brindle?”

Knox’s father ignored him. “My son’s proxy cannot make it to the Rebooters. It’s that simple. He never should have been allowed to mature in the first place. For that error, I take full responsibility.”

“Marie will be heartbroken, of course.” Her father sighed. “She thinks she can change the world. She believes in all that debt forgiveness garbage.”

“I’m not sure Knox believes in anything,” his father replied. “Which I suppose makes it easier. He won’t care one way or another when we kill his proxy.”

Beside Knox, Syd sucked in his breath.

“As long as we
do
kill him,” Marie’s father added. “His escape needs to have a happy ending for SecuriTech and for Xelon. This is a serious problem. If he actually ever does make it to the Rebooters as a result of our little ruse, you and I will be—”

“Stop!” The Guardian cut off Marie’s father.

The Guardian’s eyes rose upward. Knox could feel her crystalline gaze tear right through him. A tug in his chest, a burning urge to go to her.

Syd pulled Knox back from the edge of the railing. They pressed themselves against the plush carpeting on the floor. Knox held his breath. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe the Guardian hadn’t seen them.

Syd’s mind still reeled. Something in his blood made him dangerous to these executives. They were more concerned with killing him than they were with their own children. He didn’t like mattering that much to men like them. He didn’t like mattering at all. He longed for the carefully constructed anonymity, the world of not mattering to anyone that he’d spent a lifetime building and seen crumble in only one day. He wanted it back.

“Override code Gamma-Six-Alpha,” the Guardian barked, and the house system confirmed the override.

“What are you—?” Marie’s father started to ask.

“Locate Mr. Knox Brindle and Mr. Sydney Carton,” the Guardian commanded.

“Mr. Knox Brindle is currently in the upper hallway,” the house said. “He is accompanied by Mr. Frobisher Wick. Sydney Carton . . .” The house fell silent for a moment. “Calculating,” it said. “Calculating . . . calculating . . .”

“He’s here.” The Guardian rushed toward the stairs, an EMD stick sliding from her belt.

“Who is Frobisher Wick?” Marie’s father wondered.

[22]

SYD WAS ALREADY ON his feet, running down the hall toward Knox’s room. Knox nearly fell over trying to catch up.

“Where are you going?” Knox panted, closing his door behind him and flipping the manual lock.

“Out your window,” said Syd, feeling around the edges, trying to open it.

“They’ve already sealed the house,” Knox told him.

Syd rushed around the room, hitting at the corners of the window, pulling on the frame. He paced like a caged panther.

“Knox!” his father shouted. “Are you all right?”

“We need to get out of here,” Knox told Syd, as if he needed telling.

“We?” Syd pulled on his beat-up shoes without looking up.

The shoes did not match the clothes Knox had given him. It seemed a crazy thing to notice, but Syd felt like all his senses were heightened, a rush of awareness right on the edge of panic. His life as he knew it was unraveling, but still, he noticed the shoes.

“You heard me,” Knox said.

“There is no
we,
” Syd answered. “There’s you and your big house, your not-dead girl and your father, who’s worried about you—and there’s me, a piece of Valve trash who he wants to kill,” Syd said.

“That sounded like my dad was worried about me? He set up the accident just to teach me a lesson.”

“Yeah,” said Syd. “I noticed.”

“Don’t you want to know what they found in your blood after the accident? Don’t you want to know why he wants you dead? I mean, my father could have killed you a hundred times before now, but he never did. Suddenly, I get a blood transfusion, and now, you’re some kind of threat to him? That doesn’t make you curious? Why should you matter so much?”

Syd had wondered the same thing, but he wasn’t about to admit it to Knox. They never would have run any blood tests on him if it weren’t for that stupid accident. This was all Knox’s fault.

“
Why
is a patron problem,” Syd told him. “I’m more worried about
how.
Like, how do I get out of this house?”

Syd grabbed Knox’s chair. He swung it at the window, tried to smash it. The chair bounced off with a loud gong.

“Reinforced plexi,” Knox told him. “A fracture cannon couldn’t get through that.”

“Can you open it?” Syd whirled on him.

“What do you think?” Knox said. A holo appeared over his shoulder, his father’s glowering face.

“Knox, are you—” his father began, but Knox swiped it away without even looking.

A few more waves through another datastream holo and the window slid open.

Syd rushed to it.

“Where will you even go?” Knox asked as he climbed out onto the ledge.

“Out, beyond. The wastelands. Maybe I
will
join up with the Rebooters.”

“You don’t seem like the terrorist type,” said Knox.

“I don’t know what type I am anymore,” Syd answered. “But I’m not your problem. Thanks for the new ID. But I need to be on my own. You’ve done enough.”

He stepped outside. A moment later, Knox was right behind him. If his father wanted Syd dead, then Knox wanted the opposite. If his father didn’t want Syd to get to the Rebooters, then that was exactly where they would go. If his father refused to negotiate, Knox would teach him to negotiate. It was time for Knox to show his father exactly what his son was capable of. He was coming with Syd whether his proxy wanted him to or not.

He handed Syd the antique plastic pen.

“Grabbed it from your old pants,” he said. “You’re gonna need it.” Then Knox slapped a fake ID patch of his own on, watching it dissolve into his skin.

“What are you doing?” Syd couldn’t believe his patron was following him.

Knox threw on a new pair of datastream glasses. A wave of his hands and the window shut. He looked through his glasses at the city’s blinking warnings, the labels on the trees and buildings in the distance, projections of logos rising above their corporate headquarters. The night sky flickered with advos for his new identity, bras and fashion implants, women’s shampoos. Oops. Must have grabbed the wrong patch. Well, it wouldn’t last long anyway.

He looked down and got a height reading. It was a dizzying number. He took off the glasses. “You are taking me hostage,” he said.

“I’m
not
taking you hostage,” Syd replied.

He looked away, started to inch along the ledge with his back pressed up against the house. He had never stood this high up before. The ground seemed to rise and fall with every breath he took. The city shimmered across the horizon. Its heat bent the air. He realized that he had no idea how he was going to get away from this silent neighborhood, let alone out of the city.

He hated to admit it, but he needed Knox. If he ran without Knox, he’d be easy to destroy. Having Knox with him gave Syd leverage.

Through the window beside them, they saw a flash as the bedroom door exploded open. Knox couldn’t believe they’d gone in, even though, as far as they knew, he was Syd’s hostage. Blasting in like that was what you did to end a standoff if you didn’t care whether the hostage lived. Was Knox’s father willing to trade his son’s life for Syd’s? How could Syd possibly matter so much to a man like his dad?

Syd was thinking the same thing.

“Fine,” said Syd. “You’re my hostage. Now, how do we get out of here? I don’t think the Guardians are going to fall for an antique pen.”

“They don’t have to.” Knox didn’t elaborate. “Follow me.”

And then, without warning, Knox leapt from the ledge and windmilled his arms through the air. He hit the sloping landfill below and rolled.

Syd swallowed hard and jumped, certain he was going to break every bone in his body.

[23]

FOR A MOMENT SYD felt weightless, free, and light. He was flying. The house fell away and the hill raced up toward him. He braced for impact, bent his knees as he hit, and rolled. The grass was soft. He tucked his head to his chest so he didn’t snap his neck. The grass smelled like he’d always imagined the color green would smell, fresh and bright.

It tasted, however, like pesticide. He spat out sticky blades of it.

Syd came to a stop at the line of shrubs that marked the edge of the property and Knox yanked him up.

Knox looked back and saw the Guardian at the window to his room. The plexi slid open and without hesitation, the Guardian jumped.

“This way,” he said, pulling Syd by the wrist until they were running side by side as fast as they could toward the other side of the house.

“We’ll never outrun her!” Syd dared a look back as the Guardian hit the ground. She moved with the easy grace of practiced violence. She was built to catch them. This was her nature. She was gaining ground with every stride.

As they rounded the house, Syd saw five more Guardians coming up the long driveway on foot, all of them holding EMD sticks by their sides. With a high enough setting, an EMD stick could stop your heart with one hit.

Knox skidded to a stop and Syd slammed into him.

“I need that antique pen now,” Knox told him.

“I told you,” Syd panted. “I don’t think the Guardians are going to fall for it.”

“They don’t have to,” Knox said. “Just give it to me.”

Syd pulled it out and set in Knox’s palm. The moment the plastic touched his skin, Knox squeezed it tight. He gave Syd a wink and then rushed to the transport parked in front of the house. He pulled the door open and beckoned to Syd.

“What are you—?” Syd moved toward him, when he felt a punch in the back, like a dozen rusty salvage nails slammed into his spine. He saw the Guardians running at him, one from the direction of the house, the others from the driveway.

Syd tried to move toward the vehicle, but he stumbled. He told his legs to go but the message never reached them. The ground smacked his cheek. All his muscles tightened. He felt himself writhing on the blacktop driveway, the taste of tar flooding his mouth. He couldn’t control his limbs. They flailed. All he saw was light, painfully bright. He heard Knox shouting, but he couldn’t do anything about it.

It was not an unfamiliar pain, but familiarity didn’t change how his body responded to it. A high-power hit from an EMD device didn’t care what you thought about it; it fried your nerves without asking your brain for permission first.

As he curled and shook on the ground, he felt himself lifted up, dragged across the driveway and heaved, still shaking, onto the soft floor of the transport.

“Hang on,” Knox whispered to him as the door slammed shut and the outside sounds were silent. The floor of the transport was soft and cool on his cheeks.

Knox hit the manual door lock panel. He threw on the glasses again and hacked the transport’s system as quickly as he could. The engine started. The wheels screeched on the drive as the vehicle took off. The Guardians fired after it, but these executive transports were more secure than most people’s homes. As long as they were inside it and Knox’s hacks held, they were safe.

“Don’t move,” Knox ordered, but he wasn’t talking to Syd.

Syd forced his eyes to focus and it looked like Knox was holding the antique pen and pointing to the opposite seat. Syd tilted his head farther back with an agonizing burn that shot from deep in his belly button to the tip of his tongue.

And he saw Marie, purple eyes shining, jaw hanging open in surprise.

“Meet your newest hostage, Syd,” said Knox. “I think you already know her name.”

“Knox, are you glitched?” Marie yelled. Her eyes were fixed on Syd. His hands shook. He couldn’t push himself off the floor.

The EMD hit had been far too hard for a mere stunning shot. They were trying to stop his heart. He knew spittle was flying from his lips and his tongue felt like a live wire in his mouth, but he had to tell them. “Baram . . . ,” he said, the word hardly coming out. “Warn Baram . . . Valve . . .”

“What is he saying?” Marie leaned forward.

“The Valve,” Knox said. “He wants us to go the Valve.”

“Return immediately!” Knox’s father appeared on a holo. “Surrender now and you will be—”

Knox swiped it away.

“Knox?” Marie’s voice again. “We can’t go to the Valve.”

“You’re our hostage.” Knox waved the pen at her. “You go where we say.”

Marie leaned back and crossed her arms.

“Have to warn Baram . . . ,” Syd groaned, but he didn’t have enough control over his tongue to say any more. His head fell against the floor. His vision turned red and he knew he was about to pass out. He hoped the patrons understood him. He hoped they would take him to the Valve. He hoped they wouldn’t just turn him in. He hoped he’d wake and this had all been a dream. He just hoped.

[24]

KNOX LEANED BACK ON the soft seats of the transport and let out a long, slow breath.

His proxy was on the floor at his feet, half awake, twitching every few seconds. Watching Syd’s eyeballs wriggling under his eyelids, sweat beading on his dark forehead, and muscles straining against stray pulses of frying nerves, he realized he’d never seen anyone hit by an EMD burst in person before. He’d seen it happen to Syd in a holo more times than he could count, but in the flesh, no lighting effects, no production values, just a body in pain, was totally different. He couldn’t tear his eyes away.