13
Embrace the Underground

 

Bronson says his goodbyes. Andrus teaches Bronson how to be a thief. Dogboy helps rob a train. A dangerous upgrade.

 

Bronson opened the familiar door to Mr. Horum’s store.

Mr. Horum was behind the counter eating a pastry from the deli down the street. “Ah,” he said, “there is that friend of mine—the liar.”

Bronson had told Mr. Horum more than a few lies. He just didn’t know which one he’d been caught in. Maybe it was a misunderstanding. “What are you talking about, Mr. Horum? I didn’t lie to you about nothing.”

Mr. Horum walked over to the small TV/VCR combo behind the counter and hit play.

“Not just liar,” Mr. Horum said, “but liar who forgets he lie.”

Footage from Dogboy’s outing in Dixon Park played on the TV monitor. There were news cameras there? Bronson thought. Wait. Cindy. Darn it.

“—things took a turn for the worse,” Kathleen said over the footage, “when the two men demanded a boy dressed like a dog show himself.” Dogboy emerged from the crowd. “Police are unsure whether this ‘Dogboy,’ as he was called by the terrorists holding the park hostage, was a victim or in on the whole thing. They’ve received several reports in recent weeks of a boy dressed in a similar manner assisting in muggings around Colta City. If you have information—”

Mr. Horum paused the tape. “Oh, Ms. TV Woman. I have information for you, you betcha. You think I no recognize cape I give you, magician’s son? My cape you need for ‘talent show?’ Hmph.”

Bronson hung his head, ashamed of being caught in the lie although he felt justified in telling it.

“I’m sorry, sir,” he said.

“We supposed to cover each other,” Mr. Horum said as he shut off the TV and walked over to Bronson. “Must I be friends with a liar?” Bronson realized he had the perfect opportunity to walk away without having to feel like a jerk for doing it. Mr. Horum already seemed like he’d given up on Bronson, just like everybody else.

“You aren’t my friend,” Bronson said, “You’re just some lonely old guy who doesn’t have anybody else.” The words stung Bronson as he said them. The way he sounded reminded him of his uncle. He had a good idea how they made Mr. Horum feel.

Bronson walked to the door and turned around, trying to hide any emotion that was bubbling up inside him.

“I won’t be in again,” Bronson said, “I need to spend some time with my family.”

Bronson slammed the door behind him, leaving Mr. Horum shocked. Sure, he’d laid it on a little thick, but he was just trying to teach the boy a lesson. Every second Bronson was in the store with him meant the world to the old washed-up magician. Mr. Horum was afraid that he’d never see his friend again.

Bronson crouched down and entered his little cubby hole of a home for the last time. He unlocked his trunk and made sure everything was there. He went around and packed up the few things he’d managed to buy since he’d started staying there: a couple of blankets, some books, a coat. He crammed them into the trunk then realized that he couldn’t fit everything. He decided to pull out some odds and ends from the trunk and leave them there. It might not hurt to have a second base of operations if he needed something while he was out with the Guild.

He dragged the trunk to the entrance and blew out the candle. He was proud he’d lasted this long in these conditions. Most boys his age wouldn’t stand a chance out on their own this long. But he wasn’t giving up, he thought to himself, he was trading up. The Guild was offering him something he’d been looking for since the night his parents died: a home.

The subways in Colta City turned from subway cars into proper trains once they got about five miles out from City Center. The subway platform Bronson and Andrus hid behind was at Norberth, an affluent suburb west of the city. They’d followed the tracks all the way there. Andrus had explained to Bronson that it was a good place to start his training because people were far less suspicious in the suburbs as a rule. Bronson was dressed in street clothes so he could blend in, but Andrus insisted on keeping his hood on. He’d be staying under the platform.

Dozens of commuters lined up on the platform waiting on their trains. Bronson watched them with Andrus trying to find somebody who wouldn’t see him coming.

“There,” Andrus said, “that one.” He pointed to a man in a suit who was playing a game on his phone. Bronson waited for the train to pull out of the station and jumped up on the platform. He crept up behind the man and reached for his wallet. His vision went orange and he saw the man sitting at a dining room table across from his wife.

“That was everything?” she asked him.

“My whole paycheck,” the man replied. The women stood up and walked away from him. She began to cry as she held her pregnant belly.

“What about him?” she asked.

“We’ll figure something out, dear,” the man said as he put his arms around his wife. “We have to.”

The vision was gone, and Bronson shivered. His hand bumped against the man and the man flipped around.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked.

“Oh. Hi, I… uh, nothing. Sorry,” Bronson said. He backed away and ran off as the man checked to make sure his wallet was still there. It was.

Back under the platform Bronson was trying to explain himself to Andrus. “I couldn’t. He didn’t deserve it,” Bronson said.

“How would you know that?” Andrus asked.

Bronson didn’t know if he was ready to trust Andrus enough to let him in on his power yet.

“I… just know,” he said.

Andrus turned away from Bronson, ashamed. “You deliberately disobeyed me. You don’t trust me.”

Bronson realized he was about to make the same mistake he’d made with Mr. Horum. He decided he needed to be straight with Andrus if this whole situation had any chance of working out.

“I saw his home,” Bronson said, “he needs his money. Sometimes when I’m right in the middle of something I get these… pictures in my head. Like what would happen if I didn’t step in to change it.” Bronson waiting for any reaction from Andrus.

“You can see into the future?” Andrus asked.

“Yeah,” Bronson said.

“And that’s why you disobeyed?” Andrus asked.

Bronson nodded his head. He saw orange and flashed forward to Andrus jumping at him, which Andrus did when Bronson came to. Bronson jumped to one side and Andrus landed on the ground behind him. Bronson turned back around to face him, afraid he’d be attacked again, but Andrus laid on the ground laughing.

“Amazing,” he said. Andrus got up and put his arm around Bronson. He led him into the train tunnel.

“So you believe me?” Bronson asked.

“Of course I do,” Andrus said. “What’s not to believe? And you can’t imagine how much this will help the Guild. Let’s go home, son.”

Bronson cringed a little at the word, but he had to admit it was nice to have somebody call him that again.

Andrus and Bronson sat across from each other as Osbert made some marks on the wall with chalk.

“So if we consider time a straight line,” Osbert said, “then we must assume our young friend’s ‘present’ exists as a single point on that line.” He drew a straight line and marked an X on top of it. “We’ll call this point Dogboy Alpha. If somebody is in danger the Dogboy of the future,” Osbert drew a circle farther down the line, “or Dogboy Beta, will send information about said event to Dogboy Alpha, allowing him to address the problem.”

Osbert drew a dashed line traveling down the main line to the original Dogboy.

“Fascinating,” Andrus said, “but how can we use it?”

“The boy can predict the future,” Osbert said. “He is a walking warning system. By utilizing this boy’s talents we’ll know about any potential danger before it happens. I predict an increased success rate.”

“Find Hot John and take the boy out tonight,” Andrus said. He walked over to Bronson and put his hands on his shoulders. Bronson felt a little spark of static electricity when Andrus touched him. It traveled down his shoulder and he felt his heart skip a beat.

“Go out tonight and try to get control over this power,” Andrus said. “If you can control it we can use you. If not we do have contingencies.”

Dogboy sat on a metal arch that hung over the subway tracks. Hot John and Osbert sat next to him. Neither had said a word in the hour they’d been sitting there.

“So,” Dogboy said to Osbert, “any tips?”

Osbert smiled and leaned in closer to Dogboy. “Well, I suppose the most important thing is how to handle being apprehended by the police. In a word, play dumb. Never make eye contact. Never give an answer more than three words long. Don’t react to what they say to you. Pretend to be bored. Either they’ll give up on you and release you or give up on you and lock you up. Either way you win.”

“Bored, got it,” Bronson said. He turned to Hot John. “How about you? Andrus says you guys know a lot.”

Hot John got a serious expression on his face. He looked out into the air in front of him. “Smash them before they smash you,” he said. He got a smile on his face big enough that you could see every place he was missing a tooth.

Dogboy checked his new knife holster under his shirt. Andrus had given him a little money to upgrade some of his equipment and he figured it would be a lot easier to pull a knife off his back than off his ankle. The holster still felt a little weird to wear, but he was dying to try it out.

A train pulled up underneath them. Osbert pointed down. He held up his hand. The train’s brakes squealed as it rolled to a stop. Osbert lowered his hand and the three of them jumped on top of the moving car. Osbert and Dogboy crouched down as the train entered the tunnel.

“Now what?” Dogboy asked. Osbert pointed toward the center of the car. Hot John was standing over a small hatch. He pulled on the metal door and it popped open. He looked down inside and seeing nothing there motioned for the rest of his crew to follow as he jumped down into the car. Dogboy and Osbert shuffled across the top of the car as it picked up speed. Osbert made it to the hatch well before Dogboy. He was steadier because of his “lower center of gravity.” He jumped down onto Hot John’s shoulders and held his hand out for the boy.

Dogboy was having trouble keeping his balance as the train went faster and lowered his body until he was crawling across the top. He reached out and grabbed Osbert’s hand. Osbert pulled him over and down into the empty subway car.

“Thanks,” Dogboy said, “I think I was about to—”

“Shh,” Osbert sounded. He pointed toward the exit door at the front of the car. Osbert led them in a low crouch to the door. He peeked into the adjacent car and spied several passengers doing their best to not notice the others.

“Now,” Osbert whispered, “try to use your gift. Don’t wait for it. Make it happen.”

Dogboy sat down, closed his eyes, and concentrated. He squeezed his eyes shut so tight that all he could see for a little bit was a kaleidoscope blob of color. He concentrated harder, blocking out the sound around him as best he could. The blob faded to nothing. He breathed in and out and in and out and the nothing burned up in bright orange.

He was in the next car. Hot John slammed open the door and started yelling at people to give him their stuff. A man in a green suit pushes his way toward the front of the car. Dogboy and Osbert come through the door to help collect. The man gets within a few feet of Hot John and pulls out a gun. He tells them to freeze and—

The vision was gone. Dogboy opened his eyes. Hot John and Osbert were staring at him expectantly. Dogboy’s head was throbbing like he had the most intense ice cream headache in the world. He shook his head around a little bit and the waves of pain began to subside.

“Well?” Osbert asked.

“It worked,” Dogboy said, “wait for the man in the green suit to get off.” He leaned up against the wall of the car and tried to catch his breath. He reached up into his mask and pulled out the tissues he had stuffed up in his nose. What was the use of changing your voice when you didn’t have a secret identity anymore? He pulled the right one out and noticed it has a few spots of blood on it. When he pulled the left one out he noticed it had a lot of blood on it. He reached up and touched under his nose. No more blood. Hopefully the tissues had been enough to stop the nose bleed.

The train rolled to a stop and a few passengers got off the adjacent car, including the cop in the green suit. The train started moving again. Hot John stood up and ran through the door with his mallet hand raised. A man near the door stepped in front of him. He picked the man up and threw him into some empty seats.

“Hey, listen,” he said to the surprised passengers.” We want what you got or else I pound all of you.”

Osbert stepped through the door offering a bag to the people on the train. Dogboy was supposed to be with him, but Osbert had to leave him behind. He was back in the other car lying on the floor and shaking. Blood trickled out the edge of his mask.

Hot John and Osbert collected what they could and headed back to the empty car. Hot John looked down at Dogboy.

“This kid,” Hot John said, “what a wuss.” He handed Osbert the loot bag and picked Dogboy up. The train came to its next stop and the trio stepped off and made their way back to their den.

 

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