The Future Will Be BS Free Page 20

  “Which way?” Basquiat asked. I looked around. Boob and Rebe were nowhere in sight.

  I spotted Beltane racing along the sidewalk, disappearing behind vehicles, then reappearing. She reached a soldier I hadn’t noticed who was holding a rocket launcher, the black hole at the end pointed directly at us. Beltane punched the soldier in the back.

  Her fist came out through his chest.

  She was moving again before he hit the ground. She headed for the nearest tenement, threw a punch at the wall, then pulled, sending bricks sprawling to the sidewalk. She grabbed a handful and looked up.

  One of the bomber drones appeared over the roofline. Beltane reared back and threw a brick at it. The brick sailed past in a blur, a near miss.

  She threw the other, missed again.

  Her third shattered the drone. Pieces of it rained down into the street.

  “This way.” I turned toward Mom’s voice. I couldn’t see her through the smoke.

  There was a boom, a bright flash overhead. Our helicopter was coming down, spinning in a tight circle, black smoke pouring out of a ragged hole in its side. It slammed into the pavement a block away, and the still-spinning rotor burst into pieces that flew in three different directions. The biggest chunk hit the face of a tenement, sending debris flying.

  I spotted Mom and Mr. Chambliss in an open doorway.

  I looked around for my friends. “Molly?”

  Mom was at my side. “She’s inside. Where’s Kelsey?”

  I could barely get the words out. “He’s gone, Mom.”

  “No.” She took off toward the van. “Kelsey.”

  Mr. Chambliss grabbed my arm. “Let’s go. She’ll catch up.”

  I took one last look at Mom kicking out the van’s windshield, then turned toward the door. We passed two more bodies on the way—one of ours and one of theirs. We ran to the end of the hall, where two vets had punched and kicked a hole through the wall, into the building backing the one we were in. We climbed through the hole, ran down another hallway, and came out on the next street over. Mom caught up to us there.

  Raritan, New Jersey, was blacked out. We avoided main streets as we passed through, eventually reaching an area where we could again see lights in passing windows.

  Fires were raging in Allentown, Pennsylvania. We could see on our phones that fires were raging in a lot of places, but seeing the orange glow and smelling the acrid smoke in Allentown made it real.

  I felt as if I’d been beaten with a lead pipe. It was hard to sit because of the welt on my ass. I was sure I had a broken rib as well. It hurt to breathe.

  Darly, one of our vets, was lying between the seats, staring up at the new van’s roof, her eyes glassy from OxyContin. She had a broken femur and lacerations from the same explosion that had killed Kelsey.

  We’d had luck hiding in a school once, so we found another to stay in for the night. This time it was an elementary school, tucked away from a relatively busy street in a small Pennsylvania town.

  We bedded down in the cafeteria. The tables were smaller and closer to the ground than at the high school.

  Boob and Rebe were following the news on Rebe’s phone, their heads close together. I had the impression they were back together after “the kiss,” although no formal announcement had been made.

  Basquiat was lying on a table, hands folded across his stomach, staring at the ceiling tiles. “This tiny furniture makes me think of Trina,” he said to Molly. “But there are enough recent dead to mourn if I want to mourn.”

  I joined Mom on a bench in the corner, where she was looking after Darly.

  “I should have listened, when you told me to sell. This is a mess.”

  She shook her head. “No. You did the right thing.”

  She still wasn’t used to having the truth app around. I didn’t call her on the lie. Let her think she could still tell me what I wanted to hear, that she could still protect me from painful truths.

  * * *

  —

  Rebe found a report of a gas station in Point Pleasant that still had gas. We decided to make one last attempt to fill up before abandoning the vehicles.

  Point Pleasant was a vacation town that hadn’t seen many vacationers in recent years. Most of the souvenir shops, mini golf courses, and snack stands were boarded up. We rolled past the gas station in question. If it had been selling gas, there was no sign of any now.

  “Let’s just stay here?” Molly pleaded. “I want to swim in the ocean.”

  Mom and Beltane exchanged a look.

  “We could rest for a day or two while we figure out what to do next. Maybe steal a boat and head down the coast,” Mom said.

  We parked on a deserted street that dead-ended at the beach, and broke into an abandoned beachside seafood dive called Stingray’s Grill. There was no food inside. We knew from the news that food deliveries were being delayed by protests and fuel supply disruptions, but this place looked like it hadn’t had food for months or even years.

  We dropped our gear and headed over the boardwalk and out to the beach. Mom, Mr. Chambliss, and Beltane stayed at the restaurant, but a couple of armed vets followed us.

  Basquiat and Boob pulled off their shirts. I kept mine on because of the scrawniness thing. The water had an icy bite, but we pushed on past the breakers, into chest-deep water. Once we got out there, no one splashed or laughed or bodysurfed. We just stood there shivering. There was a big, round purple welt on Molly’s triceps, three on Basquiat’s back.

  “I’m going to head in,” Boob said after a couple of minutes, his teeth chattering. We all followed him back to shore and sat in the wet sand. Rebe returned to her news feed. I was determined to watch the ocean’s horizon. I didn’t want to see any more destruction.

  “Look at these guys,” Boob said.

  Two dogs were trotting along the surf, heading in our direction. They were little guys—a white miniature poodle and a brown-and-black Yorkie.

  “Hey, there.” Molly held out her hand. The Yorkie came right up and stuck his nose in Molly’s palms, then looked up at her and barked. The force of the bark jolted the little guy backward. He barked again.

  “He thought you had food in your hand,” Boob said. “Their owners couldn’t feed them, so they abandoned them.”

  “That’s a depressing conclusion to jump to,” Basquiat said.

  “What, they both happened to get lost with their collars off? They’re obviously not strays.”

  The poodle, which had one of those poodle-ish haircuts with puffs of fur around its ankles, came up to me and ducked its head. I reached out and rubbed behind its ears.

  Molly offered it some raisins from a box she must have had in her pocket. The poodle gobbled them up like she had a palmful of prime rib. Molly fed the rest to the Yorkie.

  The dogs hung around awhile, but when it was clear there was no more food coming, they continued down the beach together, probably going to look for their owners.

  “Do you think this is my fault?” As soon as I asked it, I wanted to take the question back. No one could tell me what I wanted to hear. All I’d get was the truth.

  Boob, Rebe, and Basquiat looked at each other, as if hoping someone else would answer. Molly stared at the sand.

  Finally, Boob spoke up. “You meant well. But yeah, I think it’s mostly your fault.” He put his hands on his head. “Half a dozen times I tried to get you to pull out, but you wouldn’t let it go. When things went south, you picked up the project and carried it on your back.”

  I nodded, then looked at Basquiat. “You agree?”

  Basquiat took a sighing breath. “We’re all responsible.”

  The needle bounced, settling halfway between Righteous Truth and Pants on Fire.

  “But,” I prodded.

  Basquiat looked me in the eye. “If you really want
me to apportion blame, I’d say more of it falls on you. After Theo died, Boob voted to stop, so I’d say he’s not to blame at all. Rebe, Molly, and I, I’d assign twenty percent each. That leaves you with forty.”

  They had no choice—they had to tell the truth. Still, I couldn’t help feeling betrayed.

  I looked at Molly until she finally noticed me looking.

  “Just…go to hell, all right? This isn’t helping anything.”

  In other words, Yes, you’re to blame for this. I’d never felt as alone as I did at that moment. No matter how bad things had gotten, until now I’d always had my friends.

  I went on looking at Molly, waiting. More than anyone, I wanted to know what she thought.

  Molly folded her arms. “Basquiat actually voted no along with Boob. He’s too kind to point that out, but he did. I, on the other hand, not only voted yes but also dug up Theo’s blog and showed you what he wrote. So I’m as much to blame as you.” The needle didn’t twitch. “I killed that girl with the colostomy bag. I killed Kelsey. I killed thousands of people, and I’m not sure I can live with that.”

  When Basquiat reached out to put his arms around her, Molly lunged at him like she was drowning, and clung to his neck so hard it had to hurt, but Basquiat didn’t complain. With each breath she pushed every bit of air from her lungs, as if it was going to be her last.

  This was killing her. And whatever Molly thought, it was my fault. I pictured the hungry faces of those kids Beltane and I had given food to, and Kelsey slumped over the steering wheel, and I could barely stand being in my skin.

  And suddenly I understood what Molly had meant when she called me a boy. It had nothing to do with collecting comics or having a baby face. To Molly, being a boy was being selfish. I’d been a boy because I’d felt my own pain, and no one else’s. That’s what a boy did. Theo, on the other hand, had not been a boy. I wasn’t a boy anymore, either, and now that I wasn’t, I almost wished I could go back, because being a man hurt.

  Boob stood and brushed off his pants. “This is probably as good a time as any to tell you all. I’m going home. I’ll disguise my face and try to swap a couple of truth apps for a junker and a tank of gas.”

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” I said. “What if Vitnik finds you? You won’t have any vets to protect you.”

  “I’ll stay hidden inside. I need to get out of here. I want to go home and sleep in my own bed.”

  “I talked him into it,” Rebe added. “After the thing at the White House, he’s earned a pass.”

  Boob looked at me. “When we were on that boat and I told you I was scared, you told me, ‘We’re all scared.’ You have no idea what this is like for me. Every minute of this has felt like walking through broken glass in my bare feet.”

  I could see this was something that had been building inside Boob, something he’d been wanting to say for some time.

  “I’m sorry I brushed you off,” I said. “I hear you now. I get it. It’s harder for you. That doesn’t mean you’re a coward. It means it takes even more courage for you to do what you’ve done.”

  As Boob fought back tears, Rebe put her arm around him and rubbed his shoulder. It was a bizarre sight, seeing Rebe comfort someone. It also choked me up, because it was exactly what Boob needed—someone to show him he was loved. I could stand to do a better job of that myself.

  “I’m sorry it’s so hard for you, buddy. I truly am.”

  Boob nodded.

  “We’ll see you back in New City.”

  When Boob and Rebe had gone, Molly, Basquiat, and I sat listening to the hiss of the surf. It was soothing, watching the water come crashing in. The water had no opinion on all this. It had no use for lie detectors. It didn’t judge.

  “I wonder if it’s safe to use our phones,” Molly said.

  So much had changed. I had no idea if Vitnik was still capable of tracking us through our phones. “We can see what Rebe and the vets think when we go inside. You want to call your mom?”

  Molly flung a little shell across the sand. “And my dad. I need to tell them I was to blame for their breakup.”

  Basquiat put his arm around her. “I’ll be standing right beside you. They’ll understand. They both love you, and so do I.”

  Lie, my truth app said.

  Molly froze.

  “What?” Basquiat said, taking in her reaction.

  “You’re lying.”

  “What? I’m not lying. I’m here for you, always.”

  “That’s different from loving me.”

  “I do love you.”

  Lie.

  As quietly as possible, I started to stand so they could have some privacy, but Molly put a hand on my arm, urging me to stay. I sank back to the ground.

  “I—I would never leave you,” Basquiat stammered.

  “You won’t run away, is what you’re saying,” Molly said.

  “That’s right, I would never run—”

  I think Basquiat made the connection the instant I did.

  “You feel responsible for breaking up my family, so you feel like you have to take care of me, because I lost my dad and I have no one.” Molly patted Basquiat’s knee. She was crying, her voice husky. “I’m not mad. That’s sweet. But I’m not a little girl. I can take care of myself.”

  Basquiat was staring at the sand. “I didn’t mean to lie. I thought I did love you, in my own way.”

  “You didn’t lie. That was the first time you said it. Ever since my parents split you’ve been telling me you’re here for me, and that’s true. It’s different than loving someone, though.”

  All five spots where the bullets had struck me throbbed like multiple hearts.

  Basquiat nodded slowly, cupped some sand, watched it slip between his fingers. “I’m sorry.”

  Molly forced a smile. “No. Don’t be.”

  “I thought I was doing the right thing.”

  “You may have been.”

  Basquiat gave Molly a hug, then left Molly and me sitting in the sand, staring at our feet, Molly crying silently.

  “I’m sorry.” I hated seeing Molly in pain, especially now, with everything else we were dealing with.

  Molly struggled to her feet, grunting in pain from the bruises, then offered me a hand and helped me up. “It’s almost as if he beat the truth app.” A seagull landed and looked up at us, probably hoping we’d toss it a Cheeto or something. “But he was telling the truth. I was just hearing what I wanted to hear.”

  We headed toward the restaurant.

  We slipped through the back door to find everyone huddled around a screen, watching a news broadcast. I recognized Vitnik’s voice immediately. It made me feel nauseated.

  “…because of the destructive influence this apparatus continues to have on our nation and its security, as of today it is illegal to possess this device in an operational state.” Vitnik set a pair of truth app rings on the table in front of her, and lifted a brick sitting beside them. “You do not have to be using the device to suffer consequences. If you are in possession of them, disable them immediately.” She slammed the brick down, then lifted it to show the crushed rings. “It’s that simple.” She leaned closer to the camera. “These devices constitute a national emergency, and we cannot afford half measures. Anyone found with an operational lie detection device will be shot on sight.”

  Mom noticed us. “She’s calling on the military to unite behind her.”

  “Could we take her out?” Beltane asked. “If she only has her Secret Service force for now, the White House might be vulnerable. A small team could get in and out.”

  Beltane called up a map of the White House. The vets huddled around, pointing out potential weak points.

  After discussing it for a while, Mom sat back. “We don’t have any intel. Unless we know Vitnik’s location at any giv
en time, how could we execute a quick strike?”

  Beltane heaved a sigh and collapsed the map. “Yeah.”

  The five of us retreated to watch the news at a table overlooking the boardwalk and beach. I’m not sure why we were watching. Maybe we were searching for some sign that we’d hit bottom and things were turning around. All we heard was the steady drumbeat of destruction. There was a severe food shortage in Japan, and soon people would begin to starve to death. Some corporate CEO had set himself up as a warlord and was trying to seize control of much of New Mexico.

  “When I was in that room under the White House, Vitnik told me people can’t handle the truth, that sometimes lies are more true than the truth,” I said. “I think she was right.”

  “Lie,” Boob muttered.

  “What?”

  Boob shrugged. “Lie. You don’t think she was right.”

  “It was pretty close to Pants on Fire,” Rebe agreed.

  I still thought Vitnik was wrong, after everything that had happened. We lied so routinely, for so many reasons, that even now I often didn’t even realize I was doing it. “Okay, I guess I don’t believe it. Maybe that’s the problem. I didn’t see the cliff, and I wouldn’t let anyone else convince me it was there, so I drove right off it.”

  “For what it’s worth, you don’t believe that, either,” Boob said.

  I looked up at the ceiling, laughing bitterly. “How could I? If I did, I’d believe we’re better off not knowing the truth.” I threw my hands in the air. “You know what? It’s true. I can’t do it. I cannot believe honesty is bad. I still believe Theo was right.”

  My rib was killing me. Every breath hurt.

  “It’s not bad. It’s just unworkable on a large scale,” Basquiat said. “That’s the lesson. On a small scale—with the five of us, for example—it was a good thing.”

  “So it’s a good thing for a small group of friends, but it becomes a doomsday machine if it spreads to a million groups of friends.” I let that sink in. “I wish Theo was here. Vitnik knew what she was doing when she took him away from us.”