Barcode: Legend of Apollo (18 page)

“Don’t get scared.”

“Don’t laugh,” she says snickering.

“I can hear him.”

“No flippin’ way.”

“Yes flippin’ way. This guy’s annoying. He’s always talking about Helios and death. I hate him”

“Wait. Go back to the beginning. How can you hear him?”

“Don’t know, but I could hear him a lot after he got Shiva.”

Michelle leans forward to punch me in the arm, and falls out of her chair. I catch her right before she smashes into my face, but she hardly notices. “Now, put me back,” she demands. I notice her legs trembling as I return her to the chair. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to talk about it.”

“I’d kick you in your face if I could.”

“Sorry.”

“What are you two silently arguing about?”

I want to tell her everything about blacking out and the entire incident in fifth period with the monster, but I keep things simple. “It seems he wants to kill me.”

“What?”

“I know, right? Who the hell goes around saying they want to kill people? No courtesy.”

Michelle laughs before clasping her hands, “Is that why you’re working out so hard?”

“
I’m
 working out hard? You’re the one that can’t walk right now. Why are you pushing yourself?”

“To help you,” she says so quickly I almost don’t hear it. “So is he the reason or not?”

“Yes. He’s so damn strong and trains like a demon. Every time Angie gives him a punishment, he asks for more. She once told me that his mother would have them beaten by their slave for losing matches, but he never lost.”

“Meaning…though he’s strong, he probably can’t take a punch?”

“No. He would go to the slave for the beatings anyway. He’d take the punches until one of them got tired. Over the past few years, it was the slave that would stop.”

“Whoa. That’s pretty intense.”

I bob my head up and down erratically, and Michelle laughs.

“Meesh, I don’t know. Why would he come all the way here to kill me?”

With a tender gesture that viciously sparks a fever in my data, she places her hand on my face and confidently whispers, “I don’t know, but don’t let him.” She pinches my cheek, “Piggyback me home?”

“No,” I reply after snapping out of the trance. I playfully slap her thigh and stand up. Michelle cringes in pain. She’d kill me herself if she could walk.

Eighteen

After taking Michelle to her father’s monstrous military truck, I walk towards my place with an uncontrollable smile.

Before crossing the street, my phone rings. I wonder what Michelle left this time.

The caller ID reads 
Payne
. I never entered either of their numbers into my phone, so I answer slowly and confused.

“Yeah.”

“Spencer,” I hear Kode’s voice. “You can still hear me over a phone, right?”

“Sadly. Then again, there are worse sounds in the world. Children dying. Bombs exploding. Dennis’ voice. You get the picture.”

“Vividly. I’ve never used a phone this way. I’m a little excited. You’re my first Spencer.”

“Why the hell can I hear you in the first place?”

“Don’t know. I have several hypothesis though.”

“I’m listening.”

“It could be connected with Helios’ black explosions you witnessed. There’s some scientific junk there that could mess with your strange mind.”

“Possible.”

“There’s also the connection we shared after Shiva electrocuted both of us.”

“I see that. Hearing you became easier, but I heard sounds in my head that resembled whispers or a jumbled mess before then.” Kode doesn’t respond. “What is it?”

“I thought so. Did you hear something after you spoke to me while I was stuck in the cement?”

“You were conscious? Yeah. I heard something immediately after or felt it.”

“I’ll have to say it’s between the explosion and Tartarus wanting you.”

“Wanting to kill me?”

“I can’t tell. My face always feels cold, but when I heard your name last year, it felt warm for the first time ever.”

“Last year? Where did you hear my name?”

Kode ignores my question and says, “
Recently
, I overheard some people talking about the dark presence surrounding you. Even a liminal being made a comment to Dennis, but that conversation was all kinds of bad. You’ll need some serious counseling when you get that information.” He clears his throat. “Anyway, from everything I know now, I think it has something to do with an area of your barcode you’re accessing. You’re learning how to use your data at a higher level than most. Therefore, you’re able to hear a frequency that most humans can’t. One my mask creates.”

“How do you know all of this?”

“I’m a seeker of information. I can tell you more if you take a walk with me.”

“Hmm. You’re not my type.”

“Is it the dreadlocks? I’m not willing to cut them, even for you.”

“I think it’s the whole killing thing that really turns me off.”

“No. I don’t think so. It’s just me killing 
you
 that you might not like. But when I tell you that I’m going to kill one hundred gladiators in thirty minutes if you don’t come with me, you’ll follow.”

I sigh as loudly as possible, “Did you hear that? I sighed. You and this murderous attitude get old quick.”

“So that means you’re coming?”

“Where are you?”

“The prison.” I don’t respond. “Don’t worry. I hacked into the school cameras. They’re on an infinite loop. No one will even know you were in the arena.”

Sarcastically, I snap, “Sure. That sounds possible.”

“I do it every night while you and Michelle train. If I didn’t, do you really think that no one would have mentioned to 
Dennis
 how much you two flirt by now? Especially the squatting move. That’s just wrong.”

I’d wondered why no one interrupted our training. My guardian angel’s looking after me, huh? I guess I should comply.

“I’m on my way, honey.”

“Thanks babe.”

When I make it to the prison, there are no guards. I haven’t visited this floor of the arena since I was a freshman. Still, I remember tons of guards were always walking around. Maybe things have changed. That, or Kode killed all of them.

A mental picture of correctional officers locked in their own prison cells encourages tiny chuckles to leave my lips. The irony.

I take my precious time analyzing the outside of the building, walking through the eerie doors and into a dark urine smelling room. Kode holds a cloth delicately between his index finger and thumb. He’s trying to clean a seat.

“This place is disgusting. It took me three minutes to find a clean napkin. After that failed, I decided to use whatever this is.”

“Where are the guards?” I ask, ignoring his comment. He sits down and folds his arms neatly.

“Correction: guard. No one breaks in or out of this prison, so there’s really no big deal about being here. The one guy that does stand watch is flirting with one of the nurses on the fourth floor. Perverted guy. He’s trying to convince her to let him stay in her room for the night.” Kode quivers a bit and waits for me to ask a question.

“So, what’s up?”

“Not much. A little training here and there. How are things with you?”

“Terrible; can we get on with the killing spree?”

“Oh.” He claps his hands. “I have to feed the prisoners. Lets walk and talk.”

Kode dashes through a door, and returns with an industrial sized cart. It requires some serious energy for him to push it from a resting position, but it gets a bit easier after it starts to roll. We walk through a five metal doors with prisoners asleep in their chambers. Most have barcodes stamped somewhere on their body, and several have legitimately powerful tattoos.

They’re a smelly bunch of Apes. I wonder what they did to end up here.

Eventually, we stop in the last cell block. Screw the smell at the entrance, this fragrance puts urine to shame. The room has a hint of blood mixed with sweat, and a tiny hint of death. I’ve only sampled this type of grit and grime in Dennis’ cooking.

Guards obviously ran this hell with swords and staffs at one point. The slashes and smashes against the walls tell stories of abuse and torture. The blue paint has worn incredibly and the original brown of the stone actually dominates the walls of “Criminal Hotel”.

The men must appreciate the size of their cages. Each room holds two prisoners within over five hundred square feet. That’s more than enough for most of the men, but I feel sorry for whoever shares the cage with the prisoner in cell five.

Bubba, the name I assign him in my head, is the only prisoner bold enough to watch Kode’s every movement. The others seem too afraid to share any eye contact with either of us, though three or four furtively glance my way.

Bubba probably weighs six hundred pounds, and most of it seems to be muscle. He’s at least seven feet tall. I imagine once Monte grows up and eats an entire village, they’ll look pretty similar.

All the men in this room are wide awake, which seems strange. It’s after midnight, and these brutes are just now being fed?

Kode parks the cart in the center of the aisle and unlocks the various compartments. As though they were being starved, several more men rush to the bars in anticipation.

While removing plates from the cart, Kode says, “Now, I don’t want you to seem crazy so I’ll tell you a little secret that no one knows. As long as you move your lips a little to mouth the words, I’ll hear you. Don’t speak a sound or everyone here will think you’re a nut job.” He pauses for a second. “Not that they’d be far off. I mean, you can hear through Tartarus.”

I test his theory by mouthing, “How can you do that?”

“I can hear everything around me. It gets a little difficult to differentiate between what’s close or far sometimes, but I’m not bad at it.”

“How far can you hear?”

“Just imagine Selena’s garbage fifty yard radius magnified to thirty miles. When I fight, I can focus it to a small area. That’s when things look vibrant, but it takes a lot of concentration.”

Amazed at his capability, I turn into an investigative journalist, “Why can you do that? Tartarus?”

“Please, this stupid mask is an annoying decoration. I’m still trying to figure out why it sucks so much of my strength.”

“How do you eat?” Kode chuckles and steals a dinner roll from one of the plates. He examines it and places it back. Then, he picks up a different roll and sticks it to Tartarus. As he holds it against the mask, the bread turns black and quickly vanishes.

“Pretty sick.”

“Can’t taste a thing though.”

“How terrible,” I am aware of the sarcasm dripping from my words. I search the depths of my data to offer him some sympathy, but all I find are bitter thoughts wishing him a painless death. Oh. So sorry. I mouth with twisted lips, “Why are we here?”

“You ever hear of something called a soul?”

“Another cryptic message? No.” I might have read something about it in our history class, but I’m sure Professor Payne is about to tell me anyway.

“Think of it as data for simple people. Before the world knew that data and the human spirit were practically the same, they’d always refer to an invisible thing called the soul. Though you self-proclaimed gods are powerful enough to display their souls through barcodes, normal humans still search for that power.”

“So you wish you could see your soul? Do you want mommy too?”

Though Kode keeps handing out plates without hesitation, or even flinching, a pain stabs my tattoo and I lose my breath. My lungs search for the presence of air, but find nothing. As though I were a fish out water, the one necessity surrounding me becomes useless. Why can’t I breathe?

Now, I’m panicking.

My eyes search the room to find the invisible poison. With no end in sight, I do something that I instantly regret. I make a plea to Kode. A couple of the men in their cages lean forward to observe a stuttering boy, fighting to stay on his feet with nothing around him. Then, they look away as though it were something they’ve experienced before.

Kode takes a deep breath of the same air I’m fighting for. It isn’t until he exhales that I’m able to breathe. You’re kidding. My barcodes were responding to his anger? I nearly passed out from the pressure of his killer instinct? Nice. I want to learn that.

Kode picks up the conversation as though nothing happened. “No. I don’t want a soul, and mommy’s a schizophrenic serial killer that you’d do best to steer clear of. I’m trying to say that these people are like the soul: unseen and misunderstood.”

A burst of laughter threatens to shoot from my mouth, but I stop myself. Now none of the men pay us any attention.

“You’re trying to say these dirty criminals are my soul
?
”

“Dirty criminals? You’ve got some nerve, princess. These are your gladiators.”

Princess? Really? Kode’s a bigger jerk than me. Sadly, his idioms crack me up on the inside. We’d probably be friends if it weren’t for the whole hack and slash me in my sleep feeling he presents on a silver platter. “My gladiators? What are you talking about?”

“What do you see when you drive the streets to the rooftop fights?”

“Buildings? Are we going back to the second grade because I already know my cursive.”

“I hate cursive.”

“Me too,” I reply, matching his sarcastic tone.

“I knew I liked you for a reason. Anyway, there’s so much you have to open your eyes up to. Do you see death or murders? What about the carjackings?”

“Crime’s down in this city. No. I wouldn’t see any of those things.” Do I really believe that? Kode slaughtered thousands of people in one night and we couldn’t find any news other than a some reported arsons.

“Crime’s down, yet gladiators are composed mostly of criminals whose injustices are hardly reported. Two years ago, most of these men couldn’t find a job to provide a home for their families. Diapers. Shampoo. Nothing. Now, they’re gladiators that fight for their country. How’s that?”

Rolling my eyes, I mutter, “I’m not sure. Please do tell.”

“One in ten men volunteer to become gladiators. Each ’Ape’, as you call them, only live to fight fifteen to twenty matches at this arena. Your family uses them for profit in matches as they sacrifice their lives.”