Binary, page 16
It brought to light how spoiled and lucky I was, because Father took me in so many years before. I thought hard about what life may have been like otherwise as I watched a homeless man eat from a dumpster. My stomach churned at the site, but it reminded me of how long I had gone without food.
My plan was to stay under what working streetlights there were and make a beeline for the brighter portion of the city in the distance. I knew it was going to be a long walk. One I was unsafe making.
Building after rundown building shifted to our backs as we passed them, each filling me with the sensation I was being watched. Voices. People were talking somewhere.
A group of three men made their way from around another building on the following block. They ogled me as we passed by. Their clothes matched in greens and whites, walking together in unison.
“Looks like Cinderella’s still in her rags,” said one.
I wanted to maintain the appearance of strength, but I could not hide fear when a fourth stepped from behind a building. He froze when he saw us.
“What the...” said the fourth man.
“Come on.” I Grabbed Bruce’s arm. “Let’s get out of here.”
We walked the other direction. My feet moved quickly, my mind even faster. I was book smart. Period.
“Where to?” asked Bruce.
“Anywhere,” I answered. “Anywhere but here.”
I looked over my shoulder. The men were following us.
The fourth jogged to catch up. “Where ya’ goin’?”
“I bet you taste sweet,” said another.
“Yeah,” the third chimed in. “Ditch the white boy and come on back here with us, Little Miss Thang.”
My pace quickened.
“I think they want to talk to you,” said Bruce.
“Ignore them,” I said.
“Is that your boyfriend?” one shouted.
“If he is,” another laughed, “I hope he’s ready to share.”
I broke into a light run. I did not want to sprint unless I had to. The rational side of my mind told me there was nowhere to run, and I would be too tired to defend myself if I broke into a race. Besides, my track legs were untested.
They were gaining on me. I knew they were going to catch us. There was nothing I could do.
Bruce kept looking over his shoulder, effortlessly matching pace with me.
“Why are we running?” asked Bruce.
“Because they’re...” I stopped. “Just run.”
“Why?” he asked.
The men slowed to a walk, but I did not want to say it. I could not. I knew what would happen if I told Bruce they wanted to hurt me.
“I’m gonna feed your boyfriend his teeth,” said the first thug. “I’ll do it while my friends here take you on a little date.”
“That’s right,” said a second. “We’re even willing to overlook that nasty ass scar running across your forehead for a piece of curves like that.”
Bruce looked at me. “What does this mean?”
His gears were turning. I did not want to die any more than I wanted to see somebody get killed.
“Please don’t,” I begged. “We just want to leave.” My eyes cut to Bruce, then back at the men. “I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”
The men stopped a few feet shy from reaching us. One of them shoved Bruce, but he barely moved. His left foot simply moved back to maintain his balance.
“Would you like to step aside, little man?” asked the first thug.
Bruce looked at the others. “Why?”
“Why do you think?” asked the thug. “We need to take to your girl here for a test ride.”
Bruce turned to me. Innocent. Genuine. “Do you wish to go for a ride with them?”
“No,” I said.
One thug coaxed Bruce behind them. I could not believe it. He was letting them drag him away from me, but it was not his fault. He knew nothing about human interactions beyond the compound and the little time he spent with me.
“Bruce,” I said, “we need to get out of here.”
He looked at me. Perplexity dripping from his face.
The first thug grabbed me by the jaw.
“Ouch,” I winced. “No. Please... Please don’t.”
Every dread I had clicked in Bruce’s eyes. His posture shifted, shoulders lowering. He became motionless.
“Yo,” said the second thug. “Get her warmed up for us while we redecorate Raggedy-Raggedy-Andy here.”
The man grabbed my hair with his free hand and threw me to the ground.
“Do not touch her,” said Bruce.
“Or what?” asked the first thug.
Bruce stepped forward between the two other men.
“Bruce,” I said, “no.”
First thug let go of my head. He turned, laughing as he approached Bruce, pulling out a knife as he walked.
“I’m going to carve on you before I play with Little Miss Thang here,” he said. “What ya’ think about that?”
“Think about what?” asked Bruce.
The man shoved him again. Bruce took a tiny step back to brace himself, not intimidated or recognizing the threat. He looked at them with a forced smile and could have thought they were playing for all I knew. Certainly, he did not understand the danger I was in.
“Listen,” I pleaded. “You don’t want to do this.”
The first thug ignored me, shoving Bruce again.
“Hey,” I shouted.
He turned to face me. I eased back.
“Oh...” said the first thug. “I’m sorry. You must be feeling left out.”
He raised his arm to backhand me as the others laughed, but Bruce was too fast. That backhand never reached me. Bruce had no combat training; he did not need it. His hands lifted toward his armpits and exploded outward, sending the two men at his sides some thirty yards down the street, airborne.
Before I knew it, he grabbed my attacker’s arm and pulled it to the concrete. I heard it popping... breaking in several places. The thug was screaming from the ground when Bruce jerked him a good fourteen feet into the air. His bones sounded like popcorn in a microwave, and he looked to float for a second.
After Bruce shoved them, the two criminals slid to a stop on the pavement. The impact of the shove had knocked them unconscious... or killed them for all I knew. The remaining man reached into his waist for a gun as a larger group of men wearing green and white came around a building, laughing in conversation.
“Bruce...” I shouted.
Bruce looked the man’s way and grabbed the gun as he raised it, crushing it. A second later, Bruce spun the man like a discus. That release sent the would-be shooter at least sixty meters until he came to rest at the other group’s feet.
“What the...” One of them looked over the man’s body. “Ray-Ray?”
He was bloody and motionless at their feet next to one of many dilapidated buildings. Their shirts came up and hands went into waistbands, some in front, others in back. Black and polished nickel came into view under the streetlight nearest them. A fury of gunfire without warning sent small flashes of fire from angry barrels to emulate the otherwise dark neighborhood.
They were going to kill us.
Bruce shot forward and threw me over his shoulder. My stomach sank, and he fell into a sprint before I could say anything. A rushing acceleration.
His speed was brilliant, even with me on his shoulders. I was not even sure if he was running full tilt or not. The math evaded me, but if the fastest man alive could achieve speeds of nearly thirty miles per hour, Bruce could hit somewhere between sixty and eighty. I was not sure.
I watched as our pursuers gave up and disappeared into nothing, then turned to Bruce as my hair blew in the wind. A perfect storm of fear and protection had saved my life. Nothing on Earth was his equal.
22-2
Boundaries
We breezed from the troubled neighborhood towards the bright city lights ahead. The run was exhilarating. He maintained his speed, and the visual surging past left me too impressed to hold concerns.
Surrounding scenery changed rapidly: buildings became cleaner and newer, the flora shifted to greener grass, well-groomed trees and plant life, the streetlights became brighter and consistent, and cars became newer, cleaner. We passed through neighborhoods full of well-dressed people until larger buildings came into view and entered the heart of the city.
“Slow down,” I said.
He slowed nearly to a stop in view of dozens of people. Night clubs and their advertising neon lights were attracting crowds like moths to a flame to dance the night away. A high-end restaurant was serving families dressed to match the scene at our right.
“Not here,” I said. “Somewhere out of sight, genius.”
He sped back to his previous pace and made his way around a corner a few blocks away to stop. I scanned the area. He had taken me to a back lot behind a watch shop in a small plaza. We were out of sight.
Still adrenalized from the encounter with the gangsters, I double checked my surroundings to make sure we were in a safe area. “Put me down.”
He lowered me gently until I found my footing.
“What is wrong with people?” I asked. “Why do people attack and want to hurt others for no reason? Why can’t we just be nice to each other?”
“Alexis?” asked Bruce.
“What did we do for them to attack us?” I continued. “Are people that inherently—”
“Alexis?” he interrupted. “Do you still need to eat?”
I rubbed my face for a moment. Calming. My blood boiled over what the men had planned for us, but I could not let it cloud my thoughts. Bruce did not have such concerns. He knew I was safe, and, to him, the situation was over, done, and gone.
I nodded. “Yeah. I need something to eat.”
Bruce picked me up again.
“Wait,” I said. “Put me down. I’ll walk.”
His hand traced my body’s curves and ran up the backside of my inner thigh as he sat me down. I was sure it was an accident. I made no negative remarks about it.
“Okay,” I said. “We need to talk boundaries.”
“Boundaries?” asked Bruce.
“Personal boundaries.” I straightened his frayed shirt. “There’s certain places you don’t touch and proximities you don’t step inside of unless you’re getting personal.”
“Personal?” he asked.
“A woman’s chest,” I answered. “Her breasts...”
He looked to my bustline. “What about them?”
“They’re one of those areas that you’re not supposed to touch without permission,” I answered. “Same as the glutes. They’re private parts.”
Bruce returned his gaze to my face. “I did not know.”
“I know.” I moved down to adjust his pants, trying to cover as much of him as I could. My hand motioned circles around his crotch. “And this whole area right here. This is definitely a no touch zone on both men and women.”
“Why?” asked Bruce.
“You don’t show it to others or let them see it,” I answered.
“Why not?” he continued.
I grabbed him by the shoulders. “Trust me on this one.”
“But...”
“Please don’t make me explain this.” I turned to lead him down the sidewalk. “We have to get something else to wear.”
We moved to the heart of downtown’s bustling night life to find clothing and food. Hundreds of eyes found us as we walked. I ignored the clubs and restaurants. Had it of been Halloween, we could have walked right in... but it was not. Nobody was going to let us in looking the way we did.
We had a lot to figure out. Together. Neither of us could make it alone.
Chapter 23
Lockdown
BRUCE AND I made our way through the city. Some people stared; others ignored us as if passing litter on the sidewalk. We continued until a pair of police officers on horseback came into view across the street.
“Come here.” I guided Bruce behind a large food truck serving an older couple.
It gave excellent cover and would prevent the officers from getting suspicious about our appearance. I waited, wanting their backs to us before continuing. The smell of fried ice cream made my mouth water.
“Um, excuse me?” said a raspy voice.
An older couple waved us over. We walked their way as the older man carried their trays of fried ice cream.
The old lady handed me a matching tray. “We thought you two could use these. We’d give you more if we weren’t on such a tight budget.”
“No,” I said. “Thank you. Thank you so much. I mean it. Really.”
The older couple made eye contact and smiled, turning back to sit at a bench and their food. Their eyes sparkled young. It lit a magical fire within them to help us. That is how the world should be.
I scarfed down the small plate of fries and chugged the bottle of water as we walked into a quieter area of the city. It came quickly to those around us that we did not fit in. We could not. Not when it looked like Edward Scissorhands attempted to design our outfits and failed miserably.
Bruce’s clothes were worse off than mine, which I was thankful for. I had more to hide than he did. The problem was, we needed money to buy new clothes and had none. My phone, which no longer worked regardless, and wallet were still at the compound. We would have to become beggars or thieves to overcome the situation, barring the generosity of another stranger.
I tried to make myself as small as possible while continuing through the city, tucking my arms in close to my body. I was embarrassed, nervous about drawing attention to us, and trying to remain unseen.
Bruce held his head high. He was curious about his surroundings and thought there was nothing to be embarrassed about. I would have given a lot to feel as he did walking those streets.
“We need different clothes,” I said.
“Because these are torn?” asked Bruce.
“Yes,” I answered.
“But they still cover us,” he said, “and our skin is not cold. Are they not functional?”
“No, Bruce,” I answered. “They’re not.”
“But the private parts are hidden,” said Bruce.
“Remember how you felt when your skin looked different from everybody else’s,” I asked, “and everyone was staring at you?”
“I do,” he answered.
“Good.” I pushed him along. “That’s how I feel right now.”
He slowed to a halt. “I am sorry.”
Another helicopter searched the distant forest for targets they would not find.
I grabbed his wrist. “Keep moving.”
Nine blocks later, we walked into a small, locally owned pharmacy hoping to make a phone call. A sign rested above the door:
‘FRED’S MEDS’
23-2
The Pharmacy
It was close to closing for the night. There were no security guards, and I saw but one worker. It was perfect.
I walked towards the pudgy old counterman at the register. His brows raised at the sight of my clothes as Bruce came up behind me.
“Are you two okay?” asked the counterman.
I thought he was going to kick us out or call the cops.
“We are splendid,” answered Bruce. “How are you doing today, Good Fellow?”
I turned to Bruce. His voice sounded more human than ever, despite his ridiculous choice of words.
“Really?” I asked. “This is how you’re going to talk?”
“What is wrong with it?” asked Bruce.
“This isn’t the nineteenth century,” I answered.
The man was watching us. Miffed and scratching his head, perhaps he thought we were goofing on him.
“I was trying to be both formal and polite,” said Bruce.
“That’s fine,” I said, “but stop talking like you defeated the Dark Ages.”
“The Dark Ages,” said Bruce. “A historical periodization traditionally referring to the Middle Ages from the fifth to the fifteenth century that asserts that a demographic, cultural, and economic deterioration occurred in Western Europe following the decline of the Roman Empire.”
“You two aren’t on drugs, are you?” asked the counterman.
“No,” I answered.
“What drugs?” asked Bruce.
“Hell,” answered the counterman, “any, I guess. Cocaine? Heroin?”
“I don’t think my bio-circuitry would be—”
“Bruce,” I interrupted, turning my attention back to the dumbfounded counterman. “I’m sure you can tell we’ve had a rough night, right?”
“It certainly looks that way,” he answered. “Is there something I can do for the two of you?”
“Could we please use your phone?” I paused. “It’ll only take a second. I promise.”
He rolled his eyes over us from head to toe and back again. “Yeah.” He passed the wireless landline across the counter. “Of course. Don’t see why not, long as you ain’t plannin’ on robbing me.”
“No.” I grabbed the phone. “Of course not.”
Bruce and I had walked into the store near the brink of midnight looking like we emerged from a war zone. The truth would make no sense to the counterman. He knew I was hiding something but was trying to be polite and stay out of my business.
There was only one number to reach someone at the compound—no one could call out—and that number changed every few days. I dialed the last one I could remember in hopes it had not changed yet, unsure if I was making the right decision. I did not want to call the compound, but my only other option was to call Father and risk getting him sucked into the madness. I could not allow that to happen.
I finished dialing. “Here we go.”
“Where?” asked Bruce.
A familiar voice answered. “Hel... hello?”
“Dr. Shultz?” I asked.
“It... it’s her,” whispered Dr. Schultz. “A... Alexis, whe... where are you?”
