Outlive (The Baggers Trilogy, #1) (7 page)

             
No! This is my last night with her and she wants cake!

             
Baggs made it to the trash receptacle and looked around once more for anyone watching—no one. He opened up the lid and saw the cake, still in its plastic container. It had been bought at the grocery store three days ago, and didn’t expire until tomorrow.

             
Baggs felt a grin of joy come on his face as he thought of Olive tasting the cake. He would tell Tessa that some client gave it to Greggor and he didn’t want it because he’s on a diet.

             
And maybe if I can keep stealing food like this, I won’t have to enter Outlive.

             
The cake was beautiful. The icing was thick, and decorated with balloons made of sugar. Baggs almost laughed with joy as he reached toward the container.

             
Then, he felt something tear at his left arm and he was brought to the ground with enough force to make him lose his breath. He screamed as something needle-sharp tore and tugged at his left shoulder. Instinctually, he balled his right hand into a fist and struck the thing that was making him bleed. His hand struck something solid, unmoving, and strong.

             
Lights flicked on in yards and inside of windows all around Rolling Gardens. A spotlight came on above him and illuminated the side yard as though it was daylight. He screamed again, tried to get up, and was subdued.

             
Baggs turned his head and felt all hope drain from him. The thing that was restraining him was a K9. Not wanting to be hurt further, he lay down on the rocks and submitted to the robot, saying, “I give up. I’m laying down.”

             
K9s were robotic dogs. Many of them were used in the military, by police forces, and, as in the case of the one biting Baggs, for home security. Baggs had to consciously remind himself that the thing was not an animal; it looked so incredibly
alive,
and closely resembled the appearance of a Rottweiler.

             
The K9’s ‘skin’ was black, well oiled leather that reminded Baggs of a baseball glove. Thick leather stitching ran tightly up different parts of its body, holding the robot’s outermost layer in place. The eyes were white, lubricated spheres with dark brown irises that opened and closed to alter the amount of light let inside the visual processing components of the computer by way of black pupils. The K9 had whiskers made of metal antennas. Its teeth were made of shiny titanium that was currently covered with Baggs’s blood. As Baggs stared at the animal, he thought that the creepiest, most lifelike thing the robot did was breathe. Beneath the leather exterior, the mechanical chest rose and fell with each inhalation and exhalation. The breath came out of the robot’s nose and onto Baggs’s face. The breath was actually warm, and smelled like dog food. The robot was growling menacingly, and even though Baggs was lying still, the K9 refused to let up its bite. Baggs estimated that the robot dog weighed one hundred fifty pounds. He looked down at its claws and saw that they, like the teeth, were titanium.

             
Baggs heard the door to the side of the eight-story house open. The K9 had him pinned in such a way so that Baggs couldn’t see the people walking towards him. He heard their voices, though.

             
“My God, George! It’s the mongrel that almost attacked me, earlier. The one I told you about!” the plastic surgery riddled woman shrieked.

             
Baggs wanted to say,
Really? I’m a mongrel? Because you won’t share your immense wealth, people like me have to enter Outlive and die, you sick, ugly, fake freak!
He just lay with his cheek pressed to the rock and breathed.

             
“Back up, Wilson,” a man’s voice called, and the dog released Baggs’s shoulder and padded back a few paces. He continued to growl softly, reminding Baggs not to try anything funny. “Look here, thief!”

             
Baggs turned his sore neck and saw the woman he had encountered earlier as she was throwing away perfectly good food. Beside her was a pudgy little boy of around age nine in khakis and a polo shirt, and a middle-aged man with slicked back, black hair. The man’s eyes were dark. His face was wrinkleless and absurdly tanned. He was dressed like a lawyer, and Baggs thought,
his shoes and tie probably cost more money than I’ve ever made in my entire life.

             
Then Baggs looked down at what the man was holding and his breathing halted for a moment. The man held a heavy, black pistol, equipped with target-tracking software.

             
The man, presumably George, smiled angrily. “What in God’s name are you doing? You’re guilty of scaring my wife, and intruding on our property! I would be justified in shooting you dead right here.”

             
Baggs knew that, legally, he was right. There would be no trial if the guy killed Baggs.

             
“Well, speak! Can you talk?” George enunciated his words slowly to Baggs, as though he were a child.

             
Baggs looked at the woman, and saw that her arms were crossed over massive, fake breasts as she was scowling. Her legs were bony and emaciated, with lines of varicose veins running over them. Her breasts were completely out of proportion with the rest of her body.

             
“Talk!” George said, and raised the weapon a few degrees towards Baggs. It wasn’t pointed at Baggs, but it wasn’t pointed at the ground, either. The nine-year-old boy’s eyes lit up as he watched his fearless father handle the classless mutt they found trespassing. Baggs thought that the boy was probably hoping for blood.

             
“I wasn’t trying to hurt anyone. My name is James Baggers. Please, lower your gun.”

             
George pointed the gun at Baggs’s face in response to his request, as if to remind the poor man that he wasn’t really the one making decisions. “You scared my wife half to death earlier, and then Wilson catches you digging in the garbage bin. Talk fast, buddy.”

             
With the gun pointed at his face, it was hard for Baggs to think clearly. He couldn’t believe that this was allowed to happen. “All I wanted was the cake your wife threw away earlier,” Baggs said.

             
“Stealing, huh?”

             
“She threw it away.”

             
“Was it on my property?”

             
Baggs didn’t respond.

             
George took a step forward and the gun trembled in his hands.
“Was it on my property? Yes or no?”

             
“Yes!”

             
The little boy was practically bouncing with excitement. “Are you going to shoot him, father?”

             
“No, son. We’ll let the police handle this,” the man said.

             
Baggs felt a heavy lump form in his throat. If the police came, he’d serve years in prison for theft. His family would starve without him. He wouldn’t even be able to enter Outlive. “Sir! Please! I have two little girls! We have one hundred and five CreditCoins to our name and if I go to prison, they’ll starve! They have no way of making money.”

             
“You should have thought about that before stealing.”

             
Baggs shook his head. “I know. I know, but I was wrong. I’m so hungry, and my little girl has never tasted cake before, and I saw your wife throw away that container earlier. I tried to ask her for it, but she started hollering. I just thought that I could take the cake you didn’t want and bring it home to my daughter. Her name is Olive. She has red hair, and she’s never tasted cake before.”

             
“No excuse,” George said.

             
However, his wife shifted her feet and her voice softened as she spoke. “I don’t know, George. Do we have to get the police involved? He’s not educated. He probably doesn’t know you’re not supposed to steal from trashcans. Look at him—he probably got everything he owned from a trash can.”

             
The nine year old spoke up indignantly: “You can’t just let him go free, father!”

             
George shook his head. “The boy is right, Martha.”

             
“Okay, sure. But the
police?
Can’t we find a way to solve this without the police? The man has daughters. Punishing him is like punishing them. I know that he’s lazy and jobless, but what crime did his daughters ever commit?”

             
The family of three stood staring at Baggs for some time. Baggs continued to remain silent and hoped for a miracle.

             
“Stand up,” George said.

             
Baggs did. He was much taller than George, and looked down at the man.

             
“Here’s what I’m thinking. My son has a project due tomorrow that we were inside working on. You’re lucky. I don’t want to wait out here for the police to respond to this mess. However, I also can’t let you go free. If you have no punishment, why wouldn’t you just come back here tomorrow? So there has to be a punishment. Brian, hold the gun.” George handed the firearm to his son and got out his phone. He typed on it a little and then resumed speaking. “I want you to give me 52.5 CreditCoins, or I’ll call the police. If you aren’t lying, that’s half of what you say you have. It’s a small sum, but I think it will show me that you repent. Give me your thumbprint, and I’ll let you go.”

             
George held out his cell phone to Baggs. A message at the top of the touchscreen said, “Would you like to transfer 52.5 CCs to George Thurman? Place thumb here.”

             
Baggs’s face grew hot as he placed the tactile pad of his thumb on the machine. It scanned his print and then said, “Funds transferred. Thank you.”

             
“Wilson, escort Mr. Baggs off our property.”

             
The K9 barked, and Baggs began to walk, cakeless, back towards the road. The robotic dog followed him closely, and Baggs lit the day’s sixth cigarette as he began to walk along the street. His face was burning with hatred for George Thurman.

5

              As Baggs slid his key into the lock of their door handle, he thought,
I have to remember this. I have to remember the way that everything in here smells and sounds, and what it is like to be around my family.

             
Ninety minutes had passed since Baggs left George and his K9. The robotic dog had ripped a large hole out of Baggs’s best shirt, and his shoulder was throbbing and covered in dried blood.

             
He opened the door, and saw Olive asleep on the couch near the window. Maggie was sitting cross-legged on the concrete floor, playing with a doll that Baggs had made for her out of an old sock and some thread. “Daddy! What do you have?” she said, looking at the sacks Baggs was holding.

             
“Groceries,” Baggs said. “Where is your mother?”

             
“She went down to see if Mr. Krass had seen you.”

             
“Good,” Baggs said, and then he hurried into his bedroom, still holding the sacks. He would have to work fast to avoid Tessa seeing his wounded shoulder.

             
Maggie followed Baggs into his bedroom. She wore nothing but a t-shirt and was barefoot on the dirty floor. “You smell like smoke, daddy.”

             
“I’ve been smoking, honey,” Baggs said. He sat the groceries on the floor and pulled a clean shirt out of the cardboard box that served as his dresser. Maggie watched him with wide, green eyes. “Uhh, Maggie, sweetie, can you go play in the living room until mommy gets home?”

             
“What happened to your shoulder?”

             
Baggs got down on one knee so that he was at eyelevel with his daughter. He took one of her pale, bony hands in his right one. “A dog attacked me.”

             
“A dog, or a K9?”

             
“A K9. But you can’t tell mommy.”

             
“Why not?”

             
Baggs thought for a moment. He didn’t like lying to his daughter, but he didn’t want Tessa to know that he was bitten by a K9 tonight. Tessa would see right past any lie that Baggs told and prod and poke until Baggs told her about his plans to enter Outlive. Tessa had a knack for picking out when people were lying, especially when it came to Baggs.
It’ll be best if Tessa doesn’t find out about this.
“Because, Maggie,” Baggs told his daughter. “A K9 at Greggor’s bit me. I don’t want momma to know that I got hurt at Greggor’s. She might not let me go there anymore, if she hears that, and we need the money.”