Vestige (18 page)

“Hey, I can’t see.” Micah laughed.

Jess flung herself on top of him causing his knees to buckle. The two collapsed onto the floor. Jess started to tickle him.

“Jess, cut it out.”

She stopped and pulled the blanket off his head. He was surprised to find her face inches from his.

“I miss you Micah. Do you miss me?” Jess’s voice was soft and whispery.

“Come on Jess. Don’t do this.”

She jumped on top of him, forcing him onto his back. In one swift movement, she straddled him and placed her hands on his chest.

“I bet you can’t pin me,” said Jess.

“Jess, stop. Dustin is going to be so pissed.”

“Are you only worried about Dustin? What about your precious little Clarke? Do you like her more than you liked me?”

“Jess, what are you doing?”

“I’m better than her. I can show you.” Jess leaned toward Micah and pressed her lips against his.

Micah flipped Jess off so that they were on the floor next to each other. “Jess, you need to stop.”

She ran her fingers through his hair. “Why do you like her, Micah?”

Micah grabbed her hand and pushed it away, but Jess wouldn’t let go. She laced her fingers through his.

“I don’t know. I just do,” he said.

Suddenly, an unidentifiable object soared past Micah’s head and hit Jess between the eyes. Micah heard a thud as a small terra-cotta pot spilled its lifeless contents onto the floor between them. Soil and blood covered Jess’s face.

“What the…” Micah turned to see where the pot had come from. His eyes met Clarke’s. “Clarke…It’s not what you think…”

“You’re such an asshole, Micah. I hate you!” Clarke ran out of the living room, back through the kitchen, and out the door.

Micah tried to scramble to his feet, but Jess grabbed his shirt and pulled him back down.

“Micah, I’m bleeding,” Jess cried. “You’re just going to leave me like this?”

Micah picked up the blanket and handed it to her. “Amber can you help Jess? I have to go.” Micah ran past Amber and after Clarke.

As soon as he stepped out the door, Cody grabbed him from behind. “Micah, your psycho girlfriend kicked me in the nuts and then gave Dustin a bloody nose.”

“What? Why would she do that? I’ve gotta go after her. She thinks that me and Jess…”

“You and Jess what?” Dustin pulled his arm back and threw a punch at Micah.

Micah ducked before Dustin made contact. “What the hell, Dustin?” Micah pushed Dustin, causing him to fall backwards onto the driveway. “I don’t know what happened out here, but I want all of you gone before I get back.”

Micah took off down the driveway towards the front of the house. When he reached the sidewalk, he looked in both directions but didn’t see Clarke. Where would she go? She wouldn’t go home; would she? But if not there, then where?

Chapter Nineteen

Clarke ran for several blocks before she stopped. The cold air made her lungs sting. How could Micah do that to her? She sat on the ground, put her face in her hands, and sobbed. Now what was she supposed to do? She couldn’t go back to her house. What if her mother was there? She couldn’t go to the church. That was the first place Micah would look for her.

Her heart ached, another betrayal. This was too much. Why was everyone so weak? Was she the only person on the planet capable of doing the right thing? Even when people wanted to keep their promises, in the end, they were too spineless to follow through. Trust would no longer be part of her vocabulary. She was done.

Clarke caught her breath and dried her tears. She walked the rest of the way to LaGrange Road. She could hang out at Starbucks until she calmed down and then come up with a plan that didn’t involve anyone but herself.

Once downtown, Clarke looked around in disbelief. She hadn’t been out in over two weeks, and in that time, her little neighborhood had changed. What once looked like a suburban oasis, now looked like an impoverished, war torn city. Huge floodlights illuminated the streets. If Clarke didn’t know better, she would have thought it was day. Garbage cans overflowed, and litter covered the sidewalks. Many of the storefronts were boarded up. Signs plastered every vertical surface. The faded pictures of the missing had been joined by public notices, wanted posters, and graffiti.

Clarke stopped to read the public notices, some dating back two weeks.

Any citizen who reports an untagged criminal will receive extra ration points.

Any citizen broadcasting short wave or long wave radio transmissions is committing a crime and will be arrested.

Any citizen using a CB, landline telephone, or cellular telephone is committing a crime and will be arrested.

Only terrorist use social media. Report social media use for extra ration points.

Each notice ended with the sentence.

Help us catch the terrorist by co-operating with your government and law enforcement. These measures are temporary.

“What’s going on?” she muttered.

Clarke continued to walk but now more cautiously. The streets were empty—no traffic other than a few military vehicles. The government must have confiscated the fuel too.

When she reached Starbucks, she hesitated. She looked across the street at the village hall. A fence had been erected around it. Barbed wire ran along the top. Maybe she shouldn’t be walking around without a real tag.

Starbucks looked open, so she went in. Once inside, Clarke let out a sigh of relief. It looked as it did before with the same tables, the same chairs, the same menu, and even the same barista. The only thing different was the boarded-up windows. But those weren’t so bad. They blocked the view of the village hall.

Two men sat in the chairs that she and Micah had sat in two weeks ago. They looked at her when she entered. Clarke guessed that they were in their twenties. Both had the potential to be cute, but their greasy hair and unshaven faces made them look dirty. She hurried past them hoping they wouldn’t say anything to her.

“Do you have coffee?” Clarke whispered to the barista.

“Two points for dry and five for a cup of brewed.”

Clarke looked down at her right hand, realizing that she hadn’t thought this through.

“Well, which is it?” The barista picked up a scanner and held it out towards Clarke.

“Um…never mind. Would it be okay if I just sat her for a couple of minutes to warm up?”

“Whatever…but if you cause any trouble, you’re out of here.”

Clarke took a seat on the other side of the door, keeping her distance from the two men. But it didn’t do her any good. As soon as she sat down, they walked towards her.

“Are you out of points?” one asked.

“What’s it to you?” Clarke tried to sound as tough as she could.

“Maybe we can help. We’re up for a little bartering if you are,” the other said.

“I’m good,” Clarke said.

“You look sad. We can help you feel better.” The first man put his hand on Clarke’s shoulder and moved his thumb back and forth.

“You should see what I did to the last guy who touched me.” Clarke pushed his hand away, stood, and turned to face him.

“You’re cute. What’s your name?” he asked.

“I’m leaving now,” she responded.

Clarke walked out the door but so did the two men. She could hear them following behind her. Her heart started to beat faster as she picked up her pace. Could she outrun them?

A military jeep was parked about a block down, so she headed towards it. As she drew closer, she could see two soldiers standing in front of a roadblock. She thought that as she approached the soldiers, the two men would back off, but they didn’t. When she finally reached the roadblock, one of the soldiers stepped in front of her.

“I need to scan your tag if you want to pass,” demanded the soldier.

“No, I don’t need to pass, but I do need help. Those men are following me.” Clarke pointed behind her.

“Hey, are you two bothering this girl?” asked one of the soldiers.

“She’s out of ration points. We just wanted to help her out. That’s all,” one of them answered.

The soldiers looked at each other and laughed.

“I don’t want to barter with anyone. Can’t you arrest them for harassing me?” Clarke asked.

The soldiers laughed even harder. “Let’s see your tags,” the second soldier asked the two men.

Both men stepped closer and extended their right hands. The soldier took a scanner and waved it across their tags. “Everything looks on the up and up. Why don’t you two move along.”

The two men looked disappointed but still took the soldiers advice. As they walked away, one of them turned back and shouted, “They probably want her for themselves.”

“Are you kidding me? You’re going to let them go? They’re creepers,” said Clarke.

“As long as they’re tagged, there’s nothing we can do. We’re only here to enforce the new mandates,” said the first soldier.

“What if there’s a crime? You won’t stop it?” asked Clarke.

“Let’s see your tag,” said the second soldier.

“Mine? Why do you want to see mine? I haven’t done anything wrong.” Clarke took a step back.

The two soldiers looked at each other.

“Come on. Put out your hand,” said the first.

Clarke turned and ran. She had only gone a half a block when one of the soldiers grabbed the hood of her jacket. She kept running as she unzipped it. She slipped her right arm out of the sleeve and then her left. She thought she had freed herself when she felt the grip of a hand around her arm.

“Gotch ya…you little shit.” From behind, the soldier put his arms around her chest and picked her off the ground. “Don’t you know that we have orders to shoot first and ask questions later? You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Clarke’s feet dangled in front of the soldier’s legs. She tried to kick his shins, but he held her too close. She couldn’t muster enough force to cause significant damage.

Once they were back at the roadblock, the first soldier maintained his hold on Clarke as the second soldier grabbed her hand and scanned it. “This thing is giving me an error message.”

“Try it again,” said the first.

“Nope…nothing. Do you think it’s broke?” asked the second.

“Scan yours,” said the first.

Clarke could see the window of the scanner as the second soldier waved it over his tag. A bunch of numbers appeared on the screen 906663148809.

“It works. Her tag’s fake,” said the first.

“Guess what, little girl? You’re going to jail,” said the second. “Did you think you’d get away with a fake tag?”

Clarke didn’t answer. She fought back her tears as the first soldier loosened his grip, allowing her feet to touch the ground again. He put his beefy hand around the back of her neck and pushed her towards the jeep. He slammed her face into the cold metal of the vehicle as the other soldier cuffed her hands behind her back.

The first soldier forced her into the back seat of the jeep. “I’ll take her in. You got this?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” answered the second.

“I’ll be right back,” said the first.

“Take your time.” The second soldier smirked.

As the jeep drove away, Clarke felt sick to her stomach. “What’s going to happen to me?”

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to do anything to you, but you’re lucky I’m the one driving and not my partner. He’s young and stupid…a bit of an opportunist.”

Clarke shuddered. She never thought a soldier would hurt her. “I mean after I’m arrested.”

“We’ll hold you until you get tagged, and then you can leave.”

“What if I don’t want a tag?”

“Why don’t you want one?” He looked in the rearview mirror at her.

She shrugged.

“You’ll stay locked up until you get tagged,” he answered. “What’s your name?”

“Clarke.”

“I’m Ben.”

“What do the numbers mean?” she asked.

“It’s an ID number,” Ben answered.

“Yeah but where does the number come from?”

“They combine other numbers like your birthday and social security,” Ben answered.

“Did you notice that your partner’s number had 666 in it?” asked Clarke.

“No, but that’s kind of funny. It suits him.”

The two remained silent for the rest of the ride. When they reached the police station, Ben used a lighter touch to escort Clarke into the station. Once inside, he sat her down in the chair next to the desk.

“Manny, are you here? I have another one,” Ben yelled.

“I’ll be right there,” Manny yelled back from an adjacent room. “Can you turn the machine on, so it can warm up?”

“Sure,” Ben yelled back.

“What machine?” asked Clarke.

“The tagging machine,” answered Ben.

“I told you…I’m not getting tagged.”

“Suit yourself,” Ben said.

Manny walked into the room, his mouth full of food. Even without bulging cheeks, he had a baby face. He had to be close to the same age as Clarke. He was tall and skinny; his uniform pants were baggy but too short. She could see the socks bunched around his ankles.

“Never mind, she doesn’t want a tag. You’ll have to lock her up,” said Ben. “I gotta get back. See ya, Manny. Good luck, Clarke. I hope you change your mind.”

“See ya.” Manny waved to Ben.

“Are you sure?” Manny asked Clarke. “It doesn’t hurt, only a pinch.”

“I’m sure,” said Clarke.

“Okay, I’ll have to lock you up then.” Manny grabbed Clarke’s arm and pulled her up from the chair. He paused to look at her. “You look familiar. Have we met before?”

“No,” answered Clarke. “Why does everyone keep saying that?”

“Maybe I know someone in your family.”

“I don’t have a family,” Clarke muttered.

“Whatever...just trying to make small talk. Let’s go.”

Chapter Twenty

Knowing how much she hated her mother, Micah was certain that Clarke wouldn’t go back to her house. But maybe she trusted Father Thomas enough to go to the church. The cover of darkness would help Micah travel undetected. At least this misunderstanding happened at night because Clarke would have a better chance of staying out of sight too.