Jaden Baker (43 page)

When there was no trace of sun in the sky, and lights from small towns and cities disappeared, Jaden’s eyes grew heavy. He curled himself in a ball and lay facing the open door, watching the stars over mountains and hills that were now just dark shapes, the sound of the train on the tracks an industrial lullaby.

The cold woke him early the next morning as a dull light gleamed through tall pine trees. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and sat up. If the train had traveled all night, then he wasn’t in California anymore. The sky was a slate gray, full of clouds. The strangest aspect of this new place was how green everything was, not a patch of brown anywhere.

“What’s north of California?” Jaden asked, unable to remember much American geography since he missed the fourth grade.

“I don’t know, lots of states,” Seth said, watching forests pass, just as curious as Jaden.

“It’s colder here, too,” Jaden said, hugging himself.

He was chilled and damp. The train had passed through a couple of towns when Jaden noticed the time between the train’s
du-dunks
increased: they were slowing.

“We jump off when it’s slow enough,” Seth said.

Jaden nodded, feeling anxious but eager to detrain. He slung his backpack over his shoulders and waited for the train to come to a steady crawl. He knew the station approached because of the slow speed, but also the sudden appearance of multiple tracks and sidelined train cars.

Like when he jumped from the overpass to the garbage truck, Jaden took a deep breath and leapt from the moving train, landing rather harder than he would have liked on the rocky ground. His knees hit the gravel but Jaden shook off the minor pain. He wiped the rocky dust from his jeans and took a look around.

A busy freeway was in front of him. Behind him, after the train cleared, he saw an airport. He waited for a break in car traffic then ran across the street and walked alongside the road.

License plates of passing cars told him what state he was in: Washington.

Seattle, Washington reminded him of San Francisco. The city had an abundance of hills, tall buildings, and looked over a bay, which according to several maps throughout the city, was called Puget Sound, and wasn’t a bay at all. Studying the map confused the hell out of him, with all the islands and peninsulas, inlets, and lakes. If there hadn’t been a “You are here” dot for idiots just like him, Jaden wouldn’t have known he was in Seattle.

He watched ferry boats cross Puget Sound for a time, carrying people to the other side of the water and bringing them back to Seattle. The water reflected the dark gray of the sky. Jaden had been caught in the rain twice since jumping off the train, luckily neither bout was a downpour.

To get out of the rain, Jaden went inside one of the many coffee shops. The walls were painted a reddish brown and decorated with abstract art. Armchairs were scattered in every corner. Patrons of the shop sipped their coffee by the windows, some reading books, but most tapped at their computers. A few chatted at the counter as the barista prepared warm beverages. A cork board held advertisements for apartments in the area, music lessons being offered, and a used Harley Davidson for sale with small bits of paper torn from the sheet, with a phone number repeated on each strip. A poster on the board asked viewers if they had Jesus, while another louder poster told everyone about a music jam next week.

When the barista behind the counter asked what he wanted, Jaden pointed at a cinnamon roll and requested a hot chocolate. Jaden gave him some money, then he stepped to the side, allowing the people behind him to place their order.

One of the men standing behind him had blue hair, and Jaden couldn’t help but stare. The girl with him was skinny and wore skin tight jeans. She also had a nose stud and a tattoo on her chest, which now he looked at it, reminded him of a photo in one of his magazines.

“You got a problem?” the blue haired guy asked.

Jaden looked at him and shook his head. “No,” he said, turning away.

He took his roll and hot chocolate to a single seat at a small circular table by the window and watched the rain as he listened to the people around him. Their conversations were so different from the things he had heard in recent years. They talked of football, how that new bill through congress would screw them all (and someone vehemently argued it would not), about a coworker who may be embezzling money from the company. None of it was small talk, but listening to them, he knew he couldn’t even pretend to understand. How would he integrate back into the world?

That was a full two steps ahead of where he was, though, so Jaden tabled the issue until later. His immediate problem was one of location: where to live. Seattle was a good enough place as any, he figured. Traveling on less than two hundred dollars would be difficult, and it was time to think of the next step.

To live took money, and his stolen fund was quickly evaporating. Jaden possessed great skill, but didn’t want to share it with anyone. He hadn’t graduated junior high, much less high school, so he had no diploma. In fact, he had no identification at all. Most fifteen year olds had a student ID or a driver’s permit at least.

The tabled issue of integration resurfaced. Interacting with people had never been a strength, and the past six years were spent taking orders, not having conversations. He would have to assimilate back into society if he wanted to fit in and avoid unwanted attention. And he needed a job.

Everything came back to money. He had to live somewhere, which required rent payments. Eating was not a luxury either, and based on his ravenous appetite, dodging hunger would be an expensive task. Then there were the other things, like clothes, water, and a whatever else.

Bouncing around from house to house when occupants were out of town wasn’t a realistic long term plan. He had to have his own place where he could stay, preferably somewhere dry and private. Such a place would be difficult to find.

He walked through the city at night searching for an empty building where he could sleep, but he thought he might be in the wrong part of town for that, as most of what he passed were houses and apartment buildings.

Wet and shivering, Jaden settled in for the night under a tree in a park. He expected to see homeless people sharing the park with him, but saw none. If it rained here frequently, they would have a better place to stay, somewhere dry. The tree sheltered him from most of the rain, but the ground was still damp.

Sleeping while cold and wet was impossible. Jaden shivered when he got up, rubbing his hands on his arms, trying to warm them. He would have to walk, then. It must have been late, for the streets were quiet and devoid of people. He wandered into a unsavory part of town, far from the park he had just come from. Jaden was surprised not to see police cars patrolling the area.

Standing in front of a woebegone house were two men; one twitched and looked around like he expected an assault at any second, while the other man deposited a small bag into the first man’s hand. The road in front of the house was soaked with oil stains. It was a scene he recognized from early childhood. Jaden hid himself across the street behind a trash can, and watched as minutes later another paying customer arrived.

Two options presented themselves. From experience, Jaden knew meth addicts did anything for their fix and tended toward paranoia. Addicts were a risky group. He also knew that drugs were expensive, and a dealer would have plenty of cash on him or wherever he kept his stash.

The dealer moved off, and Jaden pursued at a safe distance, ducking between houses and behind trees to mask his chase. The dealer’s movements were slinky and snakelike, as if he was expecting to be tailed, or that police officers would suddenly tackle him. Following him was like a dance. Because this was an odd hour of night, it was just the two of them on the streets; anyone outside probably had nefarious intentions. Having loose fitting clothes, and a thin face acted like camouflage.

Every major city had its drug problems, and Seattle appeared no different. After following the drug dealer into what was clearly his part of town, Jaden saw telltale signs of drug use and crime everywhere, with the faint sound of sirens on the wind, and the mixed fragrance of smoke and body odors on the air.

Dogs barked from behind fences, snarling and growling as he passed. The dealer unlocked his front door and disappeared into his derelict house, and Jaden walked assuredly toward it, taken aback by his surge of courage.

Hyperawareness, which was always there in the background, pushing all things into his field of influence, jumped to the forefront of his consciousness. Suddenly he saw and felt everything in the house, including three people on the top floor, a weapon cache in the basement, a table on the first floor where the drugs were cooked and cut, and a flat screen television in the living room.

With a soft click of the chain, Jaden opened the door and eased inside, locking it behind him. He tiptoed across the linoleum floor and covered his nose at the smell of heavy smoke and putrid chemicals. On the table in the living room, set in front of the television, were bags, old battery shells, empty boxes of Sudafed, and a red canister of gasoline.

Jaden walked up the stairs, listening for the three people above him. At the end of a short hallway, a sliver of light fell on the stained carpet where a door stood ajar. Unrolling his sleeves so they covered his hands, Jaden pushed the door open to find two men and a woman, all smoking cigarettes and counting copious amounts of cash. Jacked car radios, televisions, cameras, and cell phones littered the floor around them.

It took a few seconds for the three dealers to notice Jaden in the doorway, but when they did they froze and stared at him.

Pale, wearing clothes too big for him, with his hair plastered to his head from the intermittent rain and eyes showing every sign of fatigue, Jaden wasn’t a threatening sight; in fact he might have been mistaken for a customer. In the dark he could easily have been staring at the pile of bagged white crystals on the table instead of the cash beside it.

“How did you get in?” the woman asked. She turned to the man Jaden had followed. “Did you forget to lock the door again?”

The dealer shook his head and stood, pulling a knife from his pocket.

The woman stayed the man’s hand. “You want some?” she asked, picking up a small baggie of white crystal powder, holding it in her fingers, wiggling it. “Take your troubles away?”

The drugs would not take his troubles, they had caused them. Maybe it was the way the light reflected in the crystals, like little diamonds, but the drugs enticed him. He almost grabbed the little baggie from her.

“No,” Jaden said. “I’m here for the cash.”

As the three of them shared a chuckle, Jaden noted an old broom in the corner. He analyzed the situation, weighing the risks and benefits of an attack. To get the broom he would have to play his hand. Since his company operated outside the law, chances of them telling the truth or going to the police were low. Playing it safe, Jaden inched closer to the broom, keeping an eye on knife-man.

The third man had a gun in his pocket, and he reached for it.

“Don’t pull it,” Jaden said, pointing at him. “Guns won’t work.”

Jaden was still too far from the broom to grab it with his hand.

At once, the broom snapped into his palm. The third dealer drew the gun, but it predictably flew out of his hand. The dealer with the knife pounced first.

With a rapid swing of the broom, Jaden hit his would-be attacker in the ear, then swung again and jabbed the butt end of the broom into gun-man’s stomach. Both howled in pain. Jaden continued whacking each alternatively until they crouched on the floor, holding their hands above their heads in defense.

The woman rushed to the weapon box behind her. Jaden kicked the table; it tumbled with a crash, spilling the cash and drugs. When the woman pointed her gun, Jaden threw the broomstick at her hands, so it seemed like she dropped her gun instead.

As Jaden tried dashing toward her, someone grabbed his legs, making him fall. The drug dealer climbed on top of him, trying to pin him down. Jaden pushed himself off the floor, and thrust his back into his attacker. Both hit the wall behind them but hastily regrouped.

The second man grabbed the knife and came at Jaden, while his partner grabbed Jaden from behind, choking him. Jaden took the arms from around his neck and flipped his strangler over his head and into the man with the knife. The two lay in a pile and the woman, after gathering as much cash as she could, ran. Jaden wasn’t worried, though; he could ensure all exits remained closed.

Jaden turned to beat the men with the broomstick which was now back in his grip. It vibrated in his sore hands as he hit them. He almost enjoyed raining blows on them, how the stick made each man howl when it hit him. It was people like these men—and the woman trapped downstairs—that had caused Jaden’s dismal life. Their love of drugs was the reason he’d suffered in the first place. If it hadn’t been for them, he would live a semi-normal life, perhaps in poverty, but at least with his own family. These men deserved to suffer for the pain he had endured.

But nothing changed, no matter how long he beat them. He was still a teenage boy stealing money to survive in a society foreign to him. After pummeling each until his hands and arms throbbed, Jaden struck both in the heads until they fell unconscious.

Breathing heavily, Jaden dropped the broomstick. It clattered to the floor, bringing him out of his ruthless reverie. He unzipped his backpack and collected all the bills into it. He seized fistfuls of cash and siphoned the rest into the bag using PK, making sure he collected every last dollar. Thinking he could pawn the guns, he dropped them into the bag as well. More money had to be here, he knew it, and after a few minutes of searching, he found a locked safe under piles of stolen merchandise. Jaden cracked the lock to reveal small stacks of twenties.