Psion Gamma (19 page)

They passed several of the
KEEP THE PEACE!
CALL IT IN!
signs as they walked through the main concourse. Sammy clutched his ticket and tried to calm himself.

His lip and hands trembled. He had to get out of the crowd right now. Seeing his chance, he grabbed Toad by the sleeve and pulled him into the nearest men’s room.

“What’s the matter?” Toad asked.

“We need a plan,” Sammy explained, trying to hide the panic growing inside him.

He sat on a sink as he thought. Time passed in relative quiet. A few men and boys wandered through to do their business. Some spared a glance at Sammy and Toad, others didn’t care why two boys were hanging out in a bathroom. Toad said nothing, but sniffed every so often.

Yet nothing came to mind for Sammy.

Finally, Toad looked at him expectantly. “So?”

“Do you have money to buy a ticket? Like a link to your parents’ account or something?”

Toad shook his head.

What is the plan?
Sammy wondered. He slammed his fist against his forehead, trying to force something to come loose in his brain. The jarring did nothing but make his headache pulse more angrily at him. He shifted in the sink as his butt started to go numb.

Toad sighed deeply.

Sammy scowled at the kid. “I have a thing for coming up with plans. Just give it a second. Okay?”

“Okay. Take your time.”

A few more minutes passed.

“I have an idea.”

The words rang in Sammy’s ears. They weren’t his own, but Toad’s. Sammy, swallowing a lot more than his saliva, asked, “What’s your idea?”

“We’ll need to do some dumpster-diving.”

After explaining his plan to Sammy, Toad led them back outside where they looked through the dumpsters on the far west end of the hub near the maintenance equipment and service ways. Sammy counted about eight dumpsters in all. They only had to climb into three. The first two emanated such foul smells that Sammy had trouble joining Toad to look through them. It took about a half hour, but they finally found what Toad wanted: a large red suitcase, no larger than a kitchen cupboard, and in good enough shape to travel. The rubber on one of the wheels had only a few more rotations left to give, and the broken handle twisted when they pulled it. Otherwise, it was all they needed.

Soon enough they were back in the bathroom, washing themselves as best they could to get rid of their stenches. Then they locked themselves into the larger handicap stall at the end of the line. Sammy didn’t think Toad’s plan was going to work, and had no trouble letting him know it.

“Trust me,” Toad insisted. “I know I’m right.”

He unzipped the suitcase and climbed inside, then ordered Sammy to zip him up.

“You’re sure you want to do this?” Sammy asked. “It’s going to be awful.”

Toad nodded, shaking the whole bag. “Just don’t bump me around too much. And bring me back in here if there are any problems.”

Like I needed to be told that
, Sammy thought.
He thinks I’m a moron.
But it bothered Sammy that he hadn’t been able to come up with a good plan. He picked up the case by the handle and wheeled it back into the concourse.

Toad only squirmed and jostled a couple of times during the walk to the information desk. Behind the desk sat a woman who wore heavy makeup, a skewed maroon vest, disheveled curly hair, and a taut face. When she turned her attention to Sammy, he saw her invisible well of impatience brimming over. He’d seen the look before in his mother’s eyes, usually after a particularly long day.

He forced a smile and said, “Hi.”

The woman eyed him as if he were an exceptionally nasty piece of manure. Sammy gulped but kept the smile.

“Long day?” he asked.

“You’re only making it longer.”

Sammy dropped the grin. The woman—he saw that her name tag said
Danielle
—was about to open her mouth and say something else, but he cut her off.

“I’m sorry, Danielle. I didn’t mean to be insensitive, but I need your help . . .”

She watched him again, then a small smile raised her lips. “How can I help you?”

“It’s my ticket. Someone purchased it for me, and I wasn’t able to use it until now—a family emergency—but I desperately need to get up north.”

“Let me see it.”

Sammy pulled the ticket out of his pocket and handed it over to her. Under Danielle’s severe scrutiny, he felt a twinge of embarrassment at its condition, and gave her a genuinely embarrassed smile.

“Forgot you’d bought it?” she asked him knowingly.

“Yeah,” he weakly laughed. “Sorry, but it’s—it’s all I’ve got.”

He did not bother to hide the tone of desperation in his voice. If she did not let him through, he was screwed. For the first time, it seemed, she noticed Sammy’s clothes, his hair, his state, and probably his smell. Her eyes traveled up and down, and back to the ticket.

“Normally you’d have to buy a new one. This one’s two months old. Our policy for ticket use ends at forty-five days. Why are you headed north?”

Sammy couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. Sixty days. Eight weeks. Two months. He’d been kept in that room by Stripe for two months. Flashes of cream tubes and kaleidoscopic swirls of color filled his vision.

“Hey, are you still with me? Why are you headed up north?”

Sammy blinked several times and wiped the corner of his right eye. “Um, my family—my dad’s parents are up there.”

“Just the one bag?”

“Yeah.”

“Carry on?”

“Yes.”

Danielle typed for a few seconds and then handed Sammy a new ticket. Sammy took it with the same reverence he’d shown the old one.

“You know you get a free meal here at the hub with your ticket, right?”

Sammy’s whole face brightened. “Really?”

“Yep.” With one of her long fake fingernails, she showed him a small M on his ticket. He was almost certain there hadn’t been one on his old ticket. She gave him a small wink. “Head on over to security to have your bag inspected.”

“Thank you, Danielle,” he told her very sincerely.

“Safe traveling,” she said, her face now cheerful.

He smiled again and pulled the bag toward security where three lines formed. Sammy chose the middle. Each person had to walk past a team of dogs ready to sniff clothes and bags for traces of bombs or drugs. The dogs were all shepherds—some German, some Belgian. He wondered if any of the chemicals Stripe had used on him would be detected by the dogs. Fortunately, he didn’t have to stew for long. The line moved quickly and though the dogs spent extra time sniffing at his bag, they let him pass.

The Rio de Janeiro Air Rail Hub had nine rails extending out from the city like the sun’s rays in all different directions except directly south. Sammy wanted rail number three going straight to Panama City. Once he checked in with the rail attendant, he found another bathroom, locked himself in a stall, and unzipped the bag. Toad rolled out of it.

“Oh, that sucks,” he muttered, and immediately set about stretching his legs.

“The stupid dogs kept sniffing the bag.”

Toad’s neck and ears turned red. “Yeah, well, all that running gave me bad gas.”

“You need anything?” Sammy asked.

“Do you have any money?”

“No. But we get a free meal.”

“Cool! Just let me walk around for a bit.”

“Boarding is in less than thirty minutes. It takes us all the way to Panama City. No stops in between.”

“After that?”

Sammy read off the itinerary on his ticket. “To Guatemala City. Then to Mexico City. From there we stay on the same rail, stopping in San Antonio, Dallas, Oklahoma City, then Topeka. You’re sure you want to do this?”

Toad rubbed his legs with a frown, avoiding Sammy’s eyes. He didn’t seem sure at all. He’d be leaving his home city, probably forever. “Why to Topeka?”

Sammy didn’t bother answering. His mind was on the free meal they were about to eat. They boarded after chowing down a slice of pizza each and sharing a soda. Sammy heaved his luggage up into the overhead storage compartment and took a seat by himself, hoping no one would sit next to him.

The rails in Rio were smaller than the ones Sammy had ridden with his parents in Africa and Europe, but the windows were bigger. Sammy’s dad had once called the rail car an oversized medicine pill, and Sammy still thought the description was accurate. These cars held about forty people, with one engineer sitting up front in a small booth. Most everyone around him was reading or working on their holo-tablets. Two boys, who reminded Sammy bit of Kobe and Kaden, were playing video games. In front of him, a man with a tall spike of hair wearing a skeleton-band t-shirt rocked out to some music.

Once everyone was situated, the engineer disappeared behind a small thin hatch up front, and the air rail came to life with all the fanfare of a gentle hum. Sammy noticed for the first time that his headache had subsided almost completely. To amuse himself, he tried to contemplate the massive amounts of energy it would take to move the rails at such speeds, but his mind became unusually clouded, and he let the thought go.

An ominous click sounded when the docking door closed. It was a peculiar click, very similar to the black door’s click when Stripe closed it behind Sammy to begin their sessions. Sammy gripped the arms of his chair tightly as a flood of bad memories washed over him. Stripe had brought him through the black door almost every other day. He couldn’t remember many details, but he saw enough in his mind’s eye to make his whole body quake as if he stood naked in a snowstorm. Naked was how he felt. Stripe had done something to him.

As the rail car was released from its locks and began to levitate on its magnetic rails, an intense feeling of panic and hostility flooded his body, causing him physical pain. His body tensed up and he gritted his teeth. He must have made some kind of an audible noise because, when he opened his eyes, a few people were watching him, shaking their heads or muttering to those next to them.

The car began to move. The sensation of acceleration was brief. A minute or two later, they reached a constant speed. Sammy stood and went to the restroom in the back, ignoring the glances from a handful of passengers. He shut the door softly behind him and gripped the sink.

He had been too preoccupied to look closely at his reflection in the hub, but he did so now. His face was very thin, his skin an unhealthy pale color. His hair was long and matted. His eyes had a haunted look, which freaked him out the most.

Thoughts of eating mush and drinking bad water came back to him. What had been in the mush? He had no idea, but thinking about it made him nauseous. He remembered being sprayed down with a hose once or twice while the Aegis complained about his smell. He gripped the sides of the sink tighter, fighting back the urge to cry. His head felt like the mush had been shoved inside of it, pushing out his brains and poisoning him. Splashing his face with water helped calm him.

He sat on the toilet to relieve himself, but found that nothing would come from either end.
What is wrong with me?
he wondered. When someone knocked on the door, he hurried to get up and take a couple more drinks from the sink.

Back in his seat, he tried to think of other things, like Jeffie or Brickert, but they always had Stripe’s face. Instead, he stared out the window and picked nervously at a thread hanging off his dirty shirt, waiting silently until the rail came to a stop in Panama City. He was the first to his feet, grabbing Toad from the shelf and beating the queue off the rail car.