The Renegades (The Superiors) (31 page)

Still,
after several hours, someone caught sight of him and called out. Instead of
answering, Draven leapt the fence into another backyard and then another,
weaving his way into the next neighborhood. This one’s houses loomed imposingly
over the street, the backyards contained by tall plaster walls. Draven scaled
one of these, absent of the wonder he’d once had when he climbed. Now he had matters
of greater consequence to dwell upon.

As
expected, he found a sapien house in the backyard. A pre-made structure nearly
identical to all those in this sector, just sufficient to sustain the most
basic human life, stood surrounded by gardens covered by plastic tarps weighted
with rocks. He lifted the latch and slipped into the sapien house. Their scent
hung heavy around him, thick and tantalizing.

After
orienting himself, he crept forward a few steps, then stopped to listen.
Nothing. Though he’d never been inside a sapien’s home before, he did not
imagine they all had such adequate living quarters. This one featured three
separate rooms and was nearly as large as the Third Order apartments he’d
occupied most of his life—and quite a bit newer. The room he entered held a
small table with benches attached, an icebox and stove, and cabinets. He crept
a few more steps, stopped, listened.

Though
the saps slept in another room, he could hear four sets of heartbeats and
accompanying breathing. By monitoring heart-rate, he determined that two adult
and two young sapiens occupied the quarters. Casting his senses, he could
estimate the size of the rooms and what purpose they served. He had entered the
area where they ate. He would not have to disturb them as they slept. The third
room, a small water closet, held a sizeable water tank which he imagined
supplied the appliances in the structure.

He
turned his mind from exploring the quarters to his aim in entering. Confident
that the saps in the next room slept, he strode across the room and opened a
cabinet. On his second attempt, he located food. Without stopping to examine
the contents of the cans, he began unloading them into two bags he found
hanging next to the icebox. When he’d finished filling the bags, he left as
quietly as he’d come.

Scaling
walls and hiding while bearing a burden proved more difficult, as usual. But he
had grown accustomed to such challenges. He arrived at the endlot before dawn,
and after several minutes and many attempts, he managed to unzip the tent with
his frost-stiffened fingers. Inside, Cali slept, the wooden stake resting under
her curled palm.

He
gently withdrew the blade and rested a hand on her shoulder. The sleep sack,
slick on the outside and cold under his touch, covered all but her face. The
night’s cold had crept into the tent with him, though he’d zipped it as quickly
as possible behind him. For a few moments, Draven sat watching Cali through
darkness so complete it obscured her features. He longed to awaken her, to show
her his most recent acquisition and watch her eyes light up, watch her devour
some delicious morsel he would never again enjoy.

Instead,
he set the two bags of food beside her and pawed open the backpack. He found
one of the books he’d taken from Princeton months ago. While he read, he stretched
out an arm and laid it in front of Cali’s face, letting the warmth of her
breath bring life back to the frozen flesh of his fingertips.

When
both hands had thawed, he ate two sap packets and set out to scour the endlot
as Cali did during the day. He found a few items to salvage, the most useful of
which was a pair of heavy canvas over-trousers with stains covering every
millimeter and holes in both knees.

At
first light, Cali stumbled from the tent to squat behind a pile of broken
cement tubes. Draven washed his hands with snow before returning to the tent.
Cali followed, sliding back into her sleep sack the moment Draven turned to zip
the flap. Draven resumed his reading, letting the steady thrum of her heartbeat
lull him into a drowsy state. When her breathing deepened, he reached out a
hand to catch the heat that escaped her lips. The tent, warm the last evening at
the close of a sun-drenched day, had lost its heat by morning.

“What
are you doing?” Cali asked.

Draven
glanced at her still form. He had thought she slept. “Warming my hands,” he
said. “You do not use the heat.”

“No,
I meant…are you reading?”

“Yes.”

“What
does it say?”

“I
explained.”

“No,
I mean, tell me the words. Tell me the story.”

He
turned to look at her. “Why?”

“Why
not? You said it’s just a story, right? It doesn’t have any big secrets I
shouldn’t know about, does it?”

Draven
chuckled. “No secrets. Only I’m not sure you would understand.”

“I
don’t care,” she said. “I won’t ask any questions or interrupt you. It’ll be just
like you’re reading it now, only I get to hear what you’re reading, too.”

“Very
well. But it’s quite…different.”

“From
what?”

“Oh,
I don’t know,” Draven said. But he knew she’d continue asking questions if he
did not explain. “It’s difficult to comprehend that world. For you, and for me,
as well.”

Cali
pushed herself up on one elbow. “It’s hard for you to understand? I thought you
knew…lots. Almost everything. What don’t you understand?”

“That
not so long ago, humans ruled while Superiors hardly existed, hidden from view.
Your kind did not know we existed outside of stories.”

“You’re
right, I can’t imagine that,” she said. “Did things look different then? What
did people do? I mean, humans.”

“The
same things we do now.”

“Really?
That seems impossible.”

“I
hear things weren’t so different.”

“But
how? How could we do the things you do?”

“I
don’t know. I didn’t live in that time. I hear it was similar, only then, humans
imagined themselves the most superior species. Instead of saps, they had other
animals for livestock. They drove cars and read books and went to work and
school.”

“What
is sch-ool?”

Draven
laughed softly and rolled over to face Cali. He rested his cheek on his hand as
he spoke. “School is a place where people go to learn.”

“Learn
what?”

“Whatever
you would like to know. Reading and writing, or how to build a car or a bridge,
or fix someone’s brain. Anything.”

“Wow,”
Cali said, mirroring his position with her own. “I thought you learned all that
in books.”

“I
imagine you can. But you can learn more thoroughly at school, where an expert
instructs you and you can practice a skill until you’ve mastered it. A book is
only words.”

“That’s
amazing,” Cali said, rolling to her back and resting her head on her arm. “Did
you go there?”

“A
few times,” he said. “But when humans ran things, they had many children to go
to school. Most Superiors know what we want to know, so schools have closed.”

“Do
they open again if you want to learn more?”

“There
are a few left. If there were to be another mass evolution, I suppose we’d open
new schools, if anyone survived.”

“Why
wouldn’t they survive? And what’s a mass…whatever you said?”

“We
evolved to fight in a war that ended before it began. That’s why I’m here. If
another war erupted, I imagine another evolution would be in order, once all
Thirds are killed off.”

“What’s
a third?”

“That’s
all the people who evolved in the Second Evolution.”

Cali
made a sound of frustration. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Why
can’t you explain it like a normal person? Or like I’m a normal person.”

“I
am.”

“Well,
then, explain it like I’m not a normal person. Explain it like I’m a human.”

“Right.”

“So,
what’s a Third? To me. What’s it to me.”

“Most
people you’ve ever met, I imagine. In restaurants and the Confinement, you fed
lots of Thirds. Most of us eat at those places, as we can’t afford a human.”

“But
my master could.”

“Byron
is Second Order. He is my superior. The law requires I do his bidding.”

“So…he’s
your master, too?”

Draven
hesitated. “No, and also yes. Thirds are of a lower class, ruled by the higher
class—Seconds.”

“But
if he’s a Second, and you’re a Third, then he rules you. So he’s your master.”

“It’s
more complicated.”

“How?”

“Thirds
do the jobs Seconds don’t want—capturing runaway saps, any sort of job
involving sapiens or animals, bouncers, factory work, salvaging parts to
recycle and make new things, builders, maintenance workers, mistresses, actors
and athletes, entertainers of all sorts.”

“So
what do the Seconds do?”

“They
run the government and the businesses.”

“What
do you mean? How do they run them?”

“They
make and enforce laws, invent things to make in their factories, and own all
the factories and businesses, the land and the restaurants and sapiens.”

“So
they own everything, and they tell you what to do and give you food for doing
the things they don’t want to do.”

“Very
good.”

“So
you’re a slave.”

Draven
sat up and turned to Cali, ready to admonish her. Her direct and unapologetic
gaze met his. “Yes,” he said slowly. “Yes, that’s exactly what I am.”

“I
didn’t mean it like that.”

“But
you were right. They keep us complacent so we’ll obey their laws, laws that
benefit them. Do you know, only three percent of Third Order Superiors own
sapiens?”

“You
were going to. You said you were going to buy me, but Byron already had.”

“Yes,
because they paid me a lot of money to do something they didn’t want to do.”

“When
you killed that man.”

“Yes.
When I killed that man.” Draven thought and then shook his head. “He was a bad
sort. I’m not sorry.”

“You’re
not?” Cali asked. “You sound sorry.”

“I
am. More every day.” Draven lay back again, this time beside Cali. For a time,
neither spoke.

“So
what else was different back when humans owned the world?” Cali asked, breaking
Draven from his thoughts.

“There’s
a saying that when we took over, we spent the first hundred years destroying
everything humans built, and the next hundred building it all back exactly as
it was.”

“It
is true? Was everything the same?”

“Not
entirely.”

“So
what things were different?”

Draven
thought a moment. “Humans spread out and inhabited areas we wouldn’t,” he said.
“We congregate in large cities, mostly in warmer areas. This city is as far
north as we settle. This part of the country is mostly used for growing sapien
food.”

Cali
sat up. “Really?”

“You’ve
so many questions tonight,” Draven said, touching her hair without awareness.
“This area is favorable in summer, but cold in winter. There are many more
cities than in the mountains, but so few compared to back home in the Funnel. This
is where sapiens are sent to work the corn that makes up nearly all your
packaged food.”

“You
know everything,” Cali said, lying back. “I wish I was that smart.”

“We
all start somewhere. Once, I knew less than you do.”

“No
you didn’t.”

“I
did,” he said, looking down at Cali’s caramel hair spilling from her sleep sack
into his hand. “Perhaps I still do.”

Chapter 43

Meyer
loved skiing more than almost anything on earth. Except perhaps eating. Eating in
itself made life worthwhile. And being hated—he certainly enjoyed being
abhorred.

Meyer
took hold of the handle on the end of the ski cable with both hands and twisted
to maximum speed. Despite the low number of people left who enjoyed skiing,
Superiors really had improved the sport. Going up had become almost as fun as
going down. Who wanted to sit in a chair and be lifted up the hill when skiing
up was as viable an option? As the cable began to vibrate, Meyer tightened his
grip and let the vibration build in his arms before traveling into his
shoulders. Soon his whole body hummed with excitement. Then the cable began to
recede, pulling Meyer up the slope.

Not
many skiers out, as usual. For some reason Meyer had never understood, most
people avoided snow and cold. A few avid skiers in life had retained the habit
as Superiors, and Meyer had made a few friends on the slopes. When he shared an
activity so well-loved by all the participants, their suspicion thawed a bit.
That would never happen in the business world, but out here, a certain
camaraderie existed that never translated to the world off the slopes.

Meyer
whooshed to a stop at the top of the slope and released the cable tension before
he began his descent. What a shame that he couldn’t bring some of his girls.
But he had to protect them, especially the youngest ones. And that nosy
Enforcer lived up here, crawling around in Meyer’s business even more than back
home in Texas.

He
had to admit, though, that he rather enjoyed Byron’s attentions. He may have
finally met his match, as his mum would have said. It had been a while since
Meyer had a real challenge, someone so persistent, so convinced of his guilt.
Just about everyone thought he had something up his sleeve, as his mother would
have said. People, as part of their nature, would always hate him out of
jealousy. It was practically his civic duty to be guilty of something.
Otherwise, all that hating would be in vain.

He’d
particularly enjoyed Byron’s last visit. Of course he knew Byron had orders not
to contact him at all. He’d found that out easily enough. After all, Meyer had
money, and most anything could be bought if one found the right person to sell
it. His trusted Princeton informant had let him know when his genius engineering
of the sap’s escape had gone awry. Not that his informant knew he had anything
to do with the escape, or that he’d asked Herman to lure Byron’s sapien in
particular. But he kept Meyer abreast of Princeton news, so naturally he’d
informed Meyer when Enforcers slaughtered a band of runaways. That was a juicy
bit, and Meyer liked to be in the know, as his mum would have said.

What
had
come as a surprise? That Byron had lost his sapien again—no, not
lost, but had her stolen. The beauty of it was almost too much. Certainly Meyer
could never have hoped for something so serendipitous, let alone engineered it.

Meyer
liked knowing everything about his enemies, even when it didn’t concern or
affect him or his affairs. He never could tell when some bit of information
would prove useful later. He didn’t underestimate his opponents as they so
often did him. But when Byron had told him Draven Castle stole his sapien…well.
The shock had nearly rendered him speechless. That didn’t happen often, and he did
not enjoy it. Although, this time, he had enjoyed it a little.

He
reveled in the sweet irony of the situation, the seeming coincidences that all
fit together like some perfect twisted puzzle. What to do now, he pondered as
he jetted down the powdery slope, illuminated by the sharp, cold brightness that
the stars only achieved in mountain winters. Though he relished the
information, it had thwarted his plans. Reconsideration was, perhaps, in order.
He’d been on the verge of setting a target on Draven’s back and calling in a
debt. But now that Draven had stolen Byron’s sap, perhaps he’d let the man roam
a while. Someone would capture Draven eventually. Until then, he would be in
hiding, not ratting out the Mountain Free Community. He would avoid Enforcers
as ardently as the community’s humans.

Instead
of pursuing the sapnapping Third, Meyer would research Draven. He’d have to reconfigure
his headhunter plan, perhaps send a spy instead. Though Draven didn’t sound
like much of a threat, one could never be too careful. Meyer knew that. He knew
the power of underestimation. In a way, it accounted for his success. If people
had shown him the respect he deserved all his life, he’d have been able to take
advantage of them far less often.

Meyer
knew better than most how desperate Thirds could get, that a Third might do a
great deal to try and enhance his position in society. Although he cared little
for Orders himself, he knew most placed great weight on them. Meyer himself
could have done without Orders. Of course he enjoyed certain advantages that
came with Second Order status, but he rather thought the title should be
earned, not given based solely on Evolution date. This conviction had grown in the
years he’d spent repapering unfortunate Thirds, when he’d grown familiar with
the frustration inherent in Third Order status. He knew the anger festering
below their docile exteriors and firmly believed one day, probably soon, they
would bite the hand that fed them, as his mum used to say.

Meyer
had only thought briefly of Draven before he’d decided to put a target on him.
A night on the slopes always shined his mind and let him concentrate on
whatever project he wanted to mull over without interruption, and tonight, he
mulled over Draven’s fate. He could go ahead and void him. But then the problem
arose over what to do with Byron’s sapien. Meyer wouldn’t touch that situation
with a ten-foot pole, as mum used to say. He wanted to give Byron fits of
frustration, not his own head on a pole. But he could always find ways to offer
support to Byron’s tormentor, if he couldn’t play the part himself.

He
rather enjoyed acting as puppet-master. Draven, if he was like most Thirds,
would fall into the trap of his own ambition. He would be easy to manipulate
from behind the scenes and, if Meyer ever had to contact him directly, obedient
to a Second’s commands. Byron had been playing with Meyer’s life for two years,
causing him stress and toying with him. It was time Meyer returned his
attentions.

That
morning when he returned from skiing, he skimmed Draven’s entire database file.
He read every comment from every infatuated partner and friend, every jaded ex-lover,
every argument from the current lover against what the ex had said. That could
take years for some, but Draven didn’t seem particularly interesting. He’d had
one inconsequential scrape with the law decades ago, and since then, nothing at
all noteworthy. He’d switched jobs often, and the comments ran along a theme Meyer
found cohesive with job changing. Here was an ordinary lower-class bloke,
chafing under his yoke, discontented with his lot in life but unable to alter
it. Meyer didn’t blame him, or any of the Thirds. That’s why he helped those
who had run short on luck.

Since
he had Draven’s papers, he guessed Draven had run out of luck. Eventually Meyer
would cast a line and reel him in. But for now, he would leave the man to his
hard luck. Though Meyer could find him easily enough—money bought everything, after
all—he thought he’d wait and see what happened first. He rather enjoyed sitting
back and watching the natural progression of things. Life was so often like one
of his vids, only better. Besides, he didn’t want to risk leaving a trail. Byron
hadn’t come close enough to make Meyer squirm yet, but he was getting a little
too close for comfortable sleep.

The
most fun part of his visit with Byron had been finding Byron’s weak spot.
Enforcers usually had one—that one crime that drove them crazy. Their passion.
They all wanted to eradicate something—prostitution, black market smuggling,
left-wing nut-jobs who wanted human equality. Meyer had enjoyed poking around
in Byron’s mind, finding that one thing that really goaded him. It hadn’t been
too difficult. Sometimes Meyer had to dig for a while to find an Enforcer’s obscure
crusade. Once, he hadn’t found any one thing that bothered an Enforcer, and it
still needled him to this day.

He
had ferreted out Byron’s easily enough. He’d simply rattled off a list of Draven’s
supposed crimes and waited for Byron’s reaction to each. It just so happened
that the one thing Byron hated was something that Draven could do to Byron’s
very own property on a regular basis. And who knew—maybe this Draven character
really was a sex pervert. If anyone knew about it, Byron should have. According
to Draven’s record, they’d been right chummy there at the end. Which only made
Draven’s violation of Byron’s sapien even more beautiful. Only rarely did life
offer such perfect serendipity.