Strike (7 page)

“I got tapped by Valor. A guy named Alistair Meade was on my
list. He tried to tell me he knew what was up, get me to turn off the camera, but . . .” I look down. “It was an accident. He had a gun, and we thought he was going to hurt me. He shot a warning shot, and . . .”

“So you shot him.” This from Crane. It's not a question.

“It's not her fault,” Wyatt blurts. “I—”

I hold up a hand. “Yeah, I did. But before he died, he told me the password to his laptops. Told me to destroy everything in his trailer. When we heard helicopters, we set it on fire. Did you know him?”

Crane's leaning forward now, elbows on his knees. He runs a hand through his wild hair. “Not as such, no. The CFF started online. Incog message boards and chatter. So we knew of him but didn't know him personally. He was a good man, though. I know that much.”

“We didn't mean to kill him,” I repeat, my face hot. Matty must sense my distress, as she leans hard into my leg and looks up, whining.

“But you have his computers and his password, and that's a good thing. So you tell me the password, and I'll see about finding you a new life.”

I glance at Wyatt and the other kids. “All of us?”

“Well, now. That depends. How'd you-all get thrown in together?”

Chance sighs and leans back, one long boot up on his knee. “I got tapped by Valor too. My sister came with me. When I shot the
kid's parents, he didn't have anywhere to go, so he tagged along.”

“And?” Crane's eyes dart meaningfully from them to us.

“Valor didn't live up to their half of the deal once I'd finished my list. Burned my house down. My parents, too. So we ran. And picked the wrong abandoned building as home base.”

“Who shot the kid?”

Everyone stares at me, and I reluctantly raise my hand. “I thought he was going for a gun.”

“I was scratching myself,” Kevin mutters under his breath. “Bitch.”

Leon Crane stands and paces, looking us each up and down. “So what I see before me are desperate youth. Two are survivors, killers willing to do whatever it takes. Two of you are loyal. And one of you is a victim who's still got spunk. Well, that's what I like to see. Because I'm going to let you in on a little secret, friends. The CFF can use you. And considering you're now homeless, without resources, and cash poor, I think you could use us.”

“I just want more drugs,” Kevin moans. With a dramatically childish sigh, he flops against Gabriela.

“Use us how?” she asks, full-up with sass.

Leon smiles at her. “What's your name, darlin'?”

Gabriela smiles back, just as saccharine. “My real name or my play name?”

Leon's face goes flat like a shark. “Your real name is now flagged
in every government and bank database in the country. So pick something that sounds nice, sweetheart, and start practicing your new signature.”

“Then I guess my name is Ida B. Houston.”

“Ida B. Houston, I suggest a mutually beneficial arrangement. Now, what you lot are missing are the basics of life. Shelter, food, something to do. Safety. For him, medicine. We got all of those. I won't say in abundance, but we got enough. We'll give you each some money to get started, get some clothes and niceties and a solid tent. You ever heard of Crane Hollow?”

I nod, remembering how uncomfortable Wyatt had looked the first time we drove past the back country compound, with its towing business, deer-processing facilities, and notary public.

Oh. Of course. It makes sense now. Leon Crane is a Crane from Crane Hollow.

“How come you get to keep your name?” I ask.

He holds up both hands and wiggles his fingers. “As far as Valor knows, darlin', I died in jail. My fingerprints don't match a damn thing. Crane Hollow was paid off so long ago that we're not even a blip on the bank's radar. So don't you worry about me.”

I just nod like I'm giving him permission to go on. He tips an imaginary hat.

“Now, the Crane family has sixty-three acres of land, mostly forest. We got just a few dozen folks there now, mostly family and
friends, but I expect our numbers will grow pretty quick after our first meeting here tonight.”

“And what do we have to do to earn our spot in Crane Hollow?”

This from Chance, who's got to be even more desperate than I am but somehow makes it look like he could get up and walk out the door at any moment if he doesn't like Leon's offer.

Crane and Chance enjoy a swift staring contest, and Crane looks down first and chuckles. “You got balls, boy. And anybody who survives five days with Valor has the skills to go with those balls. Not only that, but you've got yourself a partner you can trust, which was a rare enough thing in life before things went to shit. Same for this little girl and her man.” A chin nod to me and Wyatt. “We want you to do to Valor what Valor had you doing to regular citizens.” He lets the silence spin out so long that Tuck and Hartness shift and sigh behind us.

“And what's that?” Chance says.

Crane's smile is as honest and sweet as can be.

“Kill bad guys and blow shit up,” he says.

Whatever reaction Crane was hoping to see, he just gets tense silence.

“What, you kids don't like blowing shit up? I thought everybody liked that sort of thing.”

“I don't want to hurt anybody,” I say. Matty whines her support.

Crane looms over me, and I look up, uncowed.

“We don't want to hurt people, Zooey. That's Valor's game. We want to hurt Valor.”

“Uh, didn't you say ‘kill bad guys and blow shit up,' Leon?”

His smile is all angry teeth. “That I did, darlin'. But I mean kill the sort of suit who showed up at your house and threatened to murder your family and kick your puppy. I want to hurt the bastards
running Valor, who are forcing good, innocent people to do their dirty work for them. Did you know they infiltrated the police and executed every police officer in the country who wasn't agreeable to the terms of the hostile takeover? You seen a sheriff's car or an ambulance in the last six days? You know most hospital doctors are being held hostage, reserved for helping Valor's people and denied from helping anyone else? Whatever you've seen of what Valor's willing to do, they're secretly doing worse.”

My stomach feels like icy swamp water, a hard ball of acid. I haven't seen a sheriff's car or an ambulance. I haven't seen any police. I don't want to believe him, and I don't want to believe that it's possible, but . . . it's got the tang of Valor about it, doesn't it? Leaving us helpless.

“What do you want us to do
exactly
?” Wyatt asks. Crane sits again, leaning forward with the sort of grin that says he knows he's going to win us over. “That all depends, son. If you sign over your allegiance, I'd be happy to give you details. I can tell you that tonight I'm going to give each of you a loaded gift card to get whatever you need to wear, eat, and whack off to. And I'm going to take the young man with the bullet wound to a clinic and get that injury dressed. Hell, I'll even give your dog a box of Milk-Bones. But first I need to know you're on my side.”

The silence stretches out. Chance is the only one who has the balls to say, “And what if we're not?”

Leon's shrug is a lion's stretch. “I think you know. If you're not with us, you're against us. You think that lady made it back to her car tonight?”

“It's the goddamn shining wires,” Chance says, and we all stare at him. “
Watership Down
? Cowslip? The shining wires? How the rabbits get free food, but one of 'em gets eaten by the farmer every month?” We all stare blankly. “Jesus, read a book. I just mean that smart traps look like havens.” When no one says anything, he leans back and adds, “Cultureless apes, the lot of you.”

Leon snorts. I'm not sure when I went from thinking of him as Crane to thinking of him as Leon, but it probably has something to do with the fact that I don't want to think of him as my boss. As “Mr. Crane.”

“Allow me to adjust your attitude, son. Your school told you America was a republic or a democracy, right? Well, that bullshit was never true, and now it's gone. There is no president, no Congress, no Senate. It's just the Valor board of directors and a whole lot of firepower. So either you vote for them, or you vote for us. You've seen what they'll make you do, and you know how you're rewarded for following their orders. Sticks in your craw, don't it? Wouldn't you rather see how it tastes, working for the other side? Don't you want to fight those bastards? Or, as you say, to turn their snares against them?”

“I don't want to fight anybody,” Gabriela says. “I just want to be normal.”

“You have to fight for somebody or die doing nothing. That's what normal means. Now, are you in or out?” Crane's eyebrows rise into his hairline as he waits for an answer.

No one speaks. I try to breathe. After everything I've done, after everything I've been through in the last week, after everything I know about Valor, there's no way I'm going to give up now. I don't want to fight, but I don't want to die.

“I'm in,” I say.

Leon Crane smiles like the devil and hands me a clipboard and a pen.

We walked in like this: Patsy, Gabriela, Kevin, Cianci-now-Chance, and Wyatt.

We walk out as Zooey, Ida, Clark, Chance-for-real-now, and . . .

I nudge Wyatt in the ribs. “Hank Cobain?”

He blushes. “Henry Rollins and Kurt Cobain are my heroes. So sue me.” He sticks out his chin. “It's very punk rock, thank you very much.”

“I don't have a lawyer, and that might or might not be adorable.”

He nudges me back, and I'm forced to giggle. “Yeah, well, I don't take shit from a girl whose fake last name is Hemsworth. Ooh, Thor, you're so
dreamy.
”

We signed away our loyalty using fake names, and Leon kept the clipboard. I don't really get how signing a fake name with a fake
signature can be in any way legally or emotionally binding, but if the only other option is to get shot in an old high school gym, I'll sign anything they ask.

Leon's last words were, “If you'll be so kind as to wait a moment, I'll get you your prize.”

Which still feels a little like we might get shot.

Tuck and Hartness glance at each other, shrug, and start fussing over Matty. I guess we're all on the same side now? Chance and Gabriela have a furious whispering match, and Kevin—I'm assuming he wants to feel like Clark Kent, but there's no way I can call him that—collapses on the couch looking like he might die at any moment. If nothing else, I'm glad he signed, because that boy needs real medicine that we have no way of getting him. Every time I look at him, I want to throw up. I was so proud that Valor hadn't changed me, but as soon as I was free of Valor, I went and shot some innocent little kid. At least my mom will never know. Or my dad.

“Who wants a credit card?” The perky blond girl who interrogated me stands in the doorway holding a fan of random plastic cards and wearing a huge, knowing smile, like she's smug about us joining the cause.

“I just want antibiotics,” Kevin whines.

“Uh, aren't credit cards why we're in this mess?” I say.

She rolls her eyes and hands each of us a card. They're not, like, name-stamped credit cards. They're those gift cards that come
preloaded with cash and don't require ID. Mine has balloons on it and wishes me a happy birthday.

“How much is on this?” Wyatt asks.

I know I'm supposed to think of him as Hank now, but I refuse. If I'm fighting to stay Patsy, then I'm rooting for him to stay Wyatt, too.

“About five hundred to start off with,” the girl says, like it's no big deal. “We have a back door into the system and just keep loading them up. You can't buy a car or anything, but you should be cool for a tent, clothes, food, whatever. We do communal meals at the Hollow, but stock up on nonperishable snack foods. Sometimes dinner sucks.”

“Uh, okay,” Gabriela says, staring at her card like it might bite her. “Free money. That sounds like it doesn't come with strings attached.”

The blond girl ignores her. “Go shopping and bring your tent to the Hollow. You guys know how to get to Crane Road, right?” We all nod—it's famous in our town. “Just turn like you're going to the deer-processing barn and keep driving down the dirt road. You'll know when to stop. We'll show you where to set up and brief you in the morning. Oh, and this kid's coming with me.” She inclines her head toward Kevin, who looks to Gabriela with wide, worried eyes.

“What are you going to do to him?” Gabriela asks.

The blond girl smiles. “Give him medicine and a bed, if that's okay with you. I'm a registered nurse. Unless you want to take a kid
with a gunshot wound to the Shop N Save for some Band-Aids?”