System Seven (24 page)

He slowed near a group
of three homeless men sitting outside a tent playing cards on a blanket.

“Mind if I watch?
Haven’t played cards in months.”

“Why watch when you
can play? Jacob’s my name.” He held out a hand which Austin shook. “This is
Eric and that’s Lance. We’ll deal ya in next hand. Playin’ for sticks and
stones, the currency of our ancestors.” Each withdrew portions to create a
starter stack for him. “Sticks are worth five to the inch, rounded down. Stones
are ones no matter the size.”

“Sounds great, thanks.
I’m Aaron.” He sat cross-legged facing the wood hut thirty strides away. The
gang’s banter echoed across the camp. Someone had scored some weed.

“Be rollin’ that shit,
man, let’s smoke!” Agreement echoed. Austin’s eyes adjusted. There were six of
them outside the hut.

“Chill, you mofucks,
I’s got to
sell
this stankweed. Ima
roll one up but don’t be sweatin’ my cock fo no mo, got it?”

They were definitely
in a good mood. The test had just become harder.

Jacob began dealing
cards. “Alright Aaron, you’re in.”

Austin relaxed and
centered rathad. Passively, as natural as the night air, he extended to the
gang and let the information come. Immediately, a darker strand stood out. One
of the men wasn’t excited like the others. He glanced over, hoping to pinpoint
the one. A correlation formed from the shadows: right side, sitting on the
ground. There was the wedge; the dude was not happy. He narrowed focus. The guy
with the weed, Clarence, owed him money.

“You’re up,” Jacob
said.

“Ah. Um, gimme two.”
He tossed two cards down.

Jacob dealt him new
ones. “So what part of the world you from, Aaron?”

Couldn’t avoid the
chat.
Three eights
. “Norcal. Sac. How
about you guys?”

Jacob started in about
his home of Freetown, Massachusetts, where his great granddaddy made rifles for
the North in the Civil War. Jacob was a good talker, a real story-teller, which
made it that much harder to tune him out.

Yes, the guy with weed
owed his target money. It pissed him off but he was holding back to insure he
got what he wanted. The tension beneath had violence at its roots.

Armed with the
insight, Austin could work the situation with precision. He shifted focus to
Clarence and pushed the already strong feeling of gloating and accomplishment.
Switching back to the guy on the ground, he laid in more anger, more pellets of
feeling to fuel the fire. The wedge grew on its own.

Not so hard, after
all.

Something snapped in his
target. “Yo Clarence, why don’t you kick down some dough like you said you was?
You’s supposed to settle up last week. I want my bones!”

The bullshitting
stopped. Clarence went defensive. “Fuck that, Phil. You done already got yours
couple days ‘go! How much you think that smack cost me, homeboy?”

Done deal. Wedge in.
His target, Phil, was ready to fight. The rising argument was the perfect
excuse to fold and head back to Javier. Bailing camp to return to civilization
would be heavenly.

Movement caught his
eye. Clarence went tumbling to the ground under the streetlamp’s wash.

“Get the fuck
back
, niggas! That’s you, bitch! You,
too!”

An arm extended from
the shadows, pointing a gun sideways at Clarence. His target, Phil, came into
the light. He was skinny with wild hair and baggy shorts. “I ain’t fuckin
‘round you smelly ass nigga! You owe me eighty-two motherfuckin’ dollahs! I
rolled
that white boy and you done
lost it –
lost my
bank!
”

Austin tried to push
calm but Phil was all sparks and rage.

“Christ, they were
just havin’ a party,” Jacob turned to have a look. “Shit, gun.”

Still on the ground,
Clarence crab-walked backwards, the bag of weed flopping in one hand. “Chill
the fuck out, Phil, goddamn! You ain’t gotta–”

The muzzle flashed and
the report split the night. “Chill
that!
”

Clarence must have
took a bullet yet still he flipped over and launched into a sprint, catching
another bullet with the first step. He shrieked in pain but kept running. The
poker party came into the line of fire and all four scrambled for cover. Shots
popped. Clarence screamed and made a running leap over them towards the row of
tents. Austin rolled left and stopped in time to see Jacob’s skull erupt dark
red. The son of a Freetown tile worker fell forward, grunted once, and went
still.

The shooter started
after Clarence then suddenly went slack. As if a switch was thrown, legs and
arms folded in ragdoll fashion. His thin frame hit the ground in a heap.

The camp was in motion
with people running away from the gunfire. Only Javier strode forward,
concerned and scanning. He knelt next to Jacob and confirmed the man’s state.

“Let’s go.”

There were no police,
no sirens as they walked. Cars flowed on the overpass; people strolled the
sidewalks beyond the camp. The city continued to breath when it seemed it
should have been holding its breath in shock. Austin wasn’t sure if he cared
about Clarence or Phil, but he did about Jacob. His training had caused an
innocent man’s death.

Javier elbowed him.
“Look, it’s unfortunate. I didn’t see it coming neither. But ‘parently it’s the
way it was s’posed to happen, so you better not lose the lesson.”

“And which lesson is
that? Not to go fucking around in people’s minds just because I can?”

Javier shook his head
in disgust, keeping a stride.

“Alright, alright.
Excuse the rookie?” he tried, embarrassed. “But it’s tough. That shit was
tough. Say it wasn’t.”

Javier looked over.
“That shit was
unfortunate
. There’s
worse things will happen, I guaranfuckingtee you that, esse. But you go
on
. As
long
as you can. As
smart
as you can.” He walked in silence before adding in a lower voice, “We are the
few that hafta do this, so one day the many will be free. And it ain’t gonna be
fuckin’ easy. Dying’s part of what we’re buying. Deal with it.”

He got it. Worse, he
understood.

“Then my dad – he’s
already dead?”

Javier blinked. “I
ain’t heard. But if he is, whatchya gonna do ‘bout it?”

They approached the
parking lot of the motel. Javier unlocked the room and called dibs on the
shower.

Austin fell onto the
nearest bed, his world reeling. Dad and Yuni dead? He wouldn’t even imagine it.
No reason to.
He stayed in the
moment, lying in his dirty clothes, sweating. To wash it all off, everything;
he couldn’t want anything more. Except maybe cold air. The air conditioner knob
was missing but he managed to crank the post two notches to max. Cool air
flowed with a hum.

He asked, “So was that
a pass or a fail?”

Javier shrugged and
pulled off his shirt. “You did okay. You got the basics. You need practice
now.” Tattoos told stories across his chest and stomach.

“What about the
shooter? Why’d he go down like that?”

The Mexican continued shedding
his grimy street clothes and disappeared into the bathroom. Just before the
door closed, he answered.

“I took him out.”

The ‘81 El Camino
pulled to the side of the road and its lights died. Javier and Austin emerged
and headed across the grass towards the steep dirt path into the moon-lit
hills. Dry brush scraped at their tan khaki uniforms. Near the top, Javier
halted. Austin stopped to catch his breath. Behind them, the grid that was L.A.
lit the night. Headlights on the Ventura Freeway just below them merged with
the I-5 flow coming in from the north. Electric blue, white, red, orange, green
– the grid shone with life and activity, the markings of man’s presence for the
heavens to see.

Javier gazed out on the
city with unmistakable love. “You know, we made it this far. Just think of what
we can do with the right help.”

He fought the urge to
ask more questions and worked on filtering his thoughts. The previous night’s
killings still haunted him. Jacob and the gang banger, Philip, both dead but by
two entirely different means. That someone could kill with a thought disturbed
him more than he wanted to admit. The meta arts implied as much darkness and
evil as they did light and goodness. Again he thought of his dad and Yuni and
suppressed anxiety. Forming an island in his mind wasn’t easy.

Javier looked at him.
“You like animals?”

“Love ‘em. Why?”

“Just curious. Got
your breath?”

“Yeah.” He followed
Javier up the path. They crested the ridge and stepped onto a winding dirt
road. The half-moon cast dim shadows under their feet. “So what are we doing?”

“Gonna see an animal
that’s a lot like us.”

“Monkey?”

“Chimpanzee.”

“Secret mission to the
chimps?”

“Now that you know
about listening and pushing, you’re gonna try it with a chimp.”

“What’s the point?”

“What, you got
somethin’ against chimps?”

Javier waited for the
hum of an electric cart driven by a security guard to pass by before scaling a
fence. With a surge of adrenaline, Austin followed and joined Javier in dashing
into the Los Angeles zoo.

Unchallenged, they
approached an exhibit. Lights shone in a building where a woman sat with a
small chimp in her arms. Javier walked up and tapped the glass. She waved him
in.

“Did anyone see you?”
she asked.

Javier shook his head.
“Nope.”

“Why did you insist on
sneaking in? I could’ve picked you up at the gate.”

“And where’s the fun
in that?” Javier winked. “Christine, this is my friend, Allen. Christine and I
go way back to grade school. So this is the little guy?”

“Little girl. She’s
sick and we don’t know what’s wrong. Her breathing is labored as you can see.
Tests have all come up negative. She’s been running a low-grade fever for over
a week, isn’t responding to antibiotics, and has been eating less and less
every day. At this rate she isn’t going to make it on her own.”

Javier nodded. “We’ll
sit with her for a while.”

“Her name’s Darcy. I
really hope you can do something. I’ve never tried a psychic healing but at
this point I’m willing to try anything.” She handed the diaper-clad baby chimp
over to Javier. “I’ll be back in about ten minutes. Thanks again, J.P.” She
nodded at Austin. “And thank you, Allen.”

He glanced at Javier
after Christine left.

“Psychic healing?”

Javier shrugged. “Never
mind. Here,” he extended the chimp to him. “Take her.”

“Wha– okay. What’s
this about, man?” He took the tiny chimp. Its eyes were half-lidded and it
weighed almost nothing. “And why’d we hike the hills?”

“You’re out of shape,
esse! You need the exercise.” He pointed to Darcy. “See what you can learn from
her. Free form, forget English. Just tell me what you get from her.”

“Alright, I’ll do my
best.” He sat down with the chimp on his lap.

The most surprising
thing right off was the sentience, not too unlike humans. First in her eyes,
then when he went passive to listen. There was no English of course, but a kind
of language she used in her thoughts, a visual structure. How it worked wasn’t
clear; it didn’t seem to have the same flow that humans did. For several
minutes he just sat with her and let her weak grip on his index finger be their
bonding point. He listened further, getting nearer to sinking into her
awareness. She sensed his closeness and her eyes opened a bit more, curious.
Something passed from her then, a missive, a kind of message destined not for
within, but beyond her. Meant for him.

He couldn’t read it;
in his surprise, he’d missed it.

Darcy stared at him,
her eyes intense. Again she passed a meaning, a vibration that held a message.
This time he followed intuition and sensed it as he would a picture. Like
magic, the unknown resonance formed into almost graphical understanding: her
lungs ached. She was depressed.

He waited, passive but
nodding his head. She sent another message resonance. Hard to breathe. Hungry.
Another resonance conveyed her scooping up a white substance from the rocks and
putting it her mouth. It returned again and again.

He looked up at
Javier. “This is amazing.”

“Describe it.”

“You... you get what
she’s showing me, right?”

Javier shook his head
no.

“What’s this mean,
Javier? Am I really communicating with this chimp? Or am I going nuts?”

“Depends on if she
asked for your number or not.”

“That’s not even
funny.”

“Can you merge with
her?”

He could only stare
back and wonder why Javier wanted to know. Curiosity led him back to Darcy,
though, to try.