Fadeout

Chapter 24: Jamar

  Knots tightened in Jamar’s stomach as he waited for midnight to come. For once the brightening and dimming of the lights held more than an annoying aspect of business as usual for him. He watched the light bulb flash and fade until it returned to its normal shine and then his stomach really tightened. It wouldn’t be long now.

  He watched the second hand on his room’s clock slowly slide up to join the hour hand at twelve and when it did, he forced himself to wait another five minutes. If there were any late night inspections he didn’t want to walk right into them. He opened his door and listened for any sounds. His father was not in his bedroom across the hall, its door was wide open and the room was dark, but Jamar doubted Lemuel had spent two nights in there since they arrived. He tended to sleep in one of the plush chairs in his office or would arrange for a cot to be set up in the control room, assuming Lemuel went to sleep at all.

  Even though there was no one on Jamar’s floor he still tiptoed his way into the hall and down the stairs. Every slight creak made him pause, but he was soon fairly confident that he was alone. He could say he was going to get a cup of milk from the kitchen. That was all he tried to repeat in his mind so it would sound true if he had to say it aloud. On the bottom floor he listened a moment for anyone and then walked quietly past Lemuel’s study. A light shown from under the door, but there was no sounds coming from it. Jamar pictured Lemuel sitting behind his desk looking at papers.

  When he reached the sterilized tiled hall of the Machine building he wished he’d thought to leave his shoes up in his room. No matter how hard Jamar tried to push off with his toes, there was always a small squeak. But the hall and rooms around it were silent. It struck Jamar that they were perhaps more quiet than he’d ever heard them. There was no hum from the Machine or the rustle of paper. Everything was turned off and everyone was tucked in bed.

  The boys ward was the same as it had been before. He pushed back the bolt to Silas’ cell. It was just as hard as it had been last time and Jamar wondered when it was last used. Something moved inside the cell and Silas was standing in the doorway when Jamar slid the door open.

  “You ready?” Jamar asked although it was obvious Silas was.

  Silas just nodded and waited until Jamar took a step back before he joined Jamar in the hallway. He glanced up and down the empty hall as if he expected to see someone else appear.

  “This way,” Jamar said and he led the way back to the Machine room. He half expected Silas to hesitate, but if he did Jamar didn’t notice it.

  It surprise Jamar with how nice it was to have someone at his back. For once he was in the lead and he actually wanted to do what they had planned. It wasn’t some stupid idea from Edworth and he wouldn’t be the fall guy if they were caught. He knew that Silas would never tell on him although no one would believe him if he did. He was trusting Jamar to keep them from running into trouble and Jamar would not let Silas down.

  At the Machine door, Jamar grasped the handle and turned it slowly. All the overhead lights were out, but a lamp on the computer desk was lit and allowed Jamar to make out a path.

  “Where should I look?” Silas asked.

  “By that cabinet.” Jamar pointed to the far wall and he headed straight for the computer desk. He saw Silas stare at the Machine a moment before taking small steps around it. What did Silas think of the Machine? Was he afraid of it? According to some of the entries he’d read in his ancestor’s journal, all Cars had to have a traumatic experience with the Machine to heighten their emotions when they were harvested. It was another way to help increase production.

  Jamar quickly scanned all the files scattered about on the desk. Most were logistical, payment slips of parts that were replaced, order forms, letterheads and e-mem requests from individuals and the government. One file caught his eye. It was under other papers, but Jamar could see part of a Carillian id code. He pulled it out. 582322. It was an old id. The person who had it would be dead by now or very, very old.

  Jamar opened the file and three papers started to fall to the floor. He snatched at them and caught two between his fingers, but the third fluttered to the ground. The two in his hand were pages torn out of a journal, like the missing pages from his ancestor’s journal. He caught his breath and held them to the light.

  One page was titled ‘The Muted.’ And the other looked like a continuation of whatever the muted were. He started reading:

  Once every other generation a genetic anomaly occurs in which a Carillian’s brain prevents emotions from building like the average Carillian. Their emotional growth is stunted and they present an outward, muted ability for emotion. They are calm when others scream or appear brave when their life is threatened. It is not that the emotion does not exist, simply that it cannot be accessed by the individual or the Machine. Often drastic measures need to be taken with the muted, for of all the Carillians they are the most dangerous, yet they can also be--

  “I found it!” Silas’ cry split the air. Jamar glanced up to see Silas waving a file in the air. He was standing at the foot of the Machine and Jamar was impressed that he’d gotten that close.

  “What do we do with it?” Silas asked.

  “One minute.” Jamar held up one finger. He was not going to be able to read those pages now, so he stuffed them into his pocket and gave the file one last glance before shoving it back under some of the papers where it was before.

  He put a slight jog in his steps and joined Silas. The file was taken from a file holder that now had one gap among a sea of fifteen other files. Jamar took it from Silas and opened it up. It had the right number and the picture was the same girl he first seen Silas talking to.

  “What do we do with it?” Silas asked again. “Can we burn it?”

  Jamar nearly laughed out loud and tucked it in his pants, pulling his shirt out and around it to keep anyone from seeing it instantly. “No, it would be missed. I’ll take it up to my room and wait until the harvest is done before I put it back.”

  “Is that it?”

  “Did you check for yours?” Jamar started to flip through the other file numbers but the sound of footsteps in the hall made him stop.

  They were in the middle of the room with only the Machine or an open legged desk to crouch behind. Then his eyes traveled to the darkest part of the room and the stairs leading to the control panel. They might be able to hide there.

  “Follow me,” Jamar said. He tugged Silas’ sleeve toward the stairs. Even in his rush he noticed that the fabric was not very soft, a sure sign of poor quality. It was obvious that Lemuel didn’t consider the Cars worth the money for better fabric. Probably one of the ways they’d had to cut back to save money. But Silas’ clothes were a dull brown and that would help him to be less noticeable in shadows.

  There was a small space behind the stairs. Some boxes were stacked by the wall and Jamar squeezed as close to them as he could while Silas crouched next to him near the bottom steps. They would be mostly hidden, if the light wasn’t bright and no one looked in their direction.

  Jamar found his heart racing faster and faster as someone jiggled the handle and opened the door. A guard, one of the Ajax if Jamar was right. He shown a flashlight into the room and walked in. He glanced about and then walked over to the computer desk. He aimed the light around the room as if checking for anything out of place. Jamar and Silas ducked even lower, but the light flashed high when it was about to reach them arching up to the control room. The guard kept walking, this time to the Machine and that is where he paused.

  Nothing’s missing. Move on. Jamar would have sent the thoughts into the guard’s empty head if he could. He couldn’t see what the guard was looking at because his back blocked it, but it was obvious he was standing in front of the file holder and his lips moved as if he were counting. He spent another minute there and then he spun around and walked right for them. Jamar’s breath caught in his throat when the light bounced toward them. Silas ducked his head as the light hit his shoes and then it
bounded over to Jamar’s back. He waited for a call of alarm or a blinding light in his eyes, but neither came. The guard scrambled up the stairs and disappeared in the control room.

  “He’s getting Tymas,” Silas said, his head tilted up so he could hear.

  “I’ll fix that,” Jamar said. He pushed off of the boxes and with a crouch, ran past the file folder. He had seen another stack of files on the table at the wall and he grabbed the one on top. He flipped it open and saw the picture of some boy named Patton and he rushed back to the file folder slipping it into the empty slot. The flashlight flickered on the ceiling and the guard’s voice was raised. The control room door opened just as Jamar was crossing the base of the stair, but the guard must not have noticed and Jamar slipped back into his place.

  It took an effort to keep his breathing quiet and his heart was beating so fast. This was the most real excitement that he’d had in years, perhaps his whole life. The only problem was that the file dug into his waist and was making a red crease in his skin which kept him from fully enjoying the moment.

  The guard waited and when Tymas appeared he showed him the file folder, but there was no missing file. Tymas smacked his head and then they both left.

  Jamar and Silas both breathed out at the same time after the door shut and the footsteps faded away. Letting out a small laugh, Jamar stood up. His leg muscles were tight and his neck was cramped.

  “That was fun,” Jamar said.

  Silas stayed crouched.

  “Come on. Let’s get you back to your cell before they freak out that something else is missing.” Jamar backed out from behind the stairs and started for the door. He was halfway there when he remembered the page from the journal that dropped and turned back, nearly colliding with Silas, to find it. The page was lying under the desk in full view of anyone who might glance in that area. Jamar picked it up and put it with the others in his pocket.

  “It’s quiet,” Silas said. His ear tilted against the door.

  “I’ll go first, walk to the end of the hallway and check that the boys ward is empty. Then I’ll signal to you and you can come. Okay?”

  Silas nodded.

  Jamar drew closer to the door and listened while he inched the door handle to open. A sliver of light entered the room, but the hall was empty. Squeezing himself through, Jamar tiptoed to the end of the hall and carefully opened that door. Like the hall it was also empty and Jamar waved for Silas to join him. Silas crept up the hall and to Jamar’s surprise, if he hadn’t been watching he wouldn’t have known that anyone was there. He wondered how his shoes could be so quiet.

  Together they walked to Silas’ cell and Silas waited while Jamar opened the door.

  “Thanks for letting me come,” Silas said.

  “Yeah. Sure.” Jamar wasn’t certain on how to respond. He wasn’t used to being thanked and he couldn’t tell if he liked it or if it just felt awkward.

  As Silas walked into his cell, Jamar noticed the collar of his shirt was stained brown, like with blood. Yet the stain was faded almost as if it was older or had been poorly washed. He tried to think if it was there the last time he’d seen Silas and he couldn’t remember. He couldn’t even picture the back of Silas’ clothes from that day.

  “About my sister....” Silas turned around inside his cell to face the hall.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it,” Jamar said. He patted his side where the file was still safely secured.

  “I know you will. But is there any way you can get her off this drug?”

  Jamar hesitated. There was nothing he could do to get his father or anyone to let one girl off the drug. Not only was it the kind of request that would show Jamar’s true colors to his father, but it would be outright denied.

  “I don’t know.” Jamar shook his head.

  “But if there was a way you would do it.”

  It was more of a statement and it made Jamar glad that Silas could depend on him.

  “Of course.” Jamar said and Silas nodded once before heading for his bed. Jamar closed the door and made his way back to his room. He didn’t see anyone, but his adrenaline was still pumping a mile a minute.

  Once he reached the top floor he practically skipped with glee. The sneaking, the danger, Jamar loved it all. He might never be able to settle down and take over the business after this night. He quickly scanned his room as he entered it for possible hiding places and decided on stuffing the file between his mattresses.

  No sooner had he readjusted the blankets when he heard something creak in the hall. Instantly every nerve was on alert, every muscle tensed waiting to jump, but he was in his room. The evidence was hidden and there was no reason to think he’d done anything in the past hour but read a book. Jamar reached for his ancestor’s journal on his night stand and leaned back on his pillow.

  Two short knocks on his door made his muscles twitch, but he forced himself to relax.

  “Who is it?” Jamar called, not too loudly but enough to let the person know he was being interrupted.

  “May I come in?” Lemuel’s voice asked.

  “You may.”

  The door opened and Lemuel took three steps into the room. His eyes took in the book Jamar was reading and softened, just enough for Jamar to notice it.

  “You’re still up.”

  “Yes, I couldn’t sleep.”

  “That often happens for me too.”

  Jamar just stared at him. He kept his face blank, but he was still mad and he refused to allow something as stupid as the fact that they both had trouble sleeping to give them a reason to bond with his father. No, Lemuel would have to work much harder than that if he ever wanted to get back into Jamar’s good graces. Then it struck him as odd that he was even willing to let his father back in one day. But it would not be today, if ever.

  “I see you are keeping up with your reading.” Lemuel nodded at the journal.

  “It’s a lot to think about.”

  “Yes, it is. What do you think of all that has happened in the last week?”

  “The riot and such?”

  Lemuel nodded.

  “How are our profits looking?”

  “Not quite as high as I hoped. When they are brought in and taken off the drug they respond accordingly, but not as deeply as I would like.”

  Jamar sat up straighter. “Perhaps they lack a personal attachment. If you took everyone off the drug then they would know how many of their friends are gone and would have a greater fear that they will be next.”

  Silence filled the room and Jamar wondered if he’d pushed it too far or too fast.

  Lemuel pressed his lips together and tilted his head in thought. “You may have a point. I can tell your reading is starting to pay off. You can never underestimate the value of fear. Remember that.”

  “I will. And I’m sorry about earlier.”

  “For a moment I thought you might have an unwelcome interest in that Car’s wellbeing.” Lemuel stance stayed loose, but he seemed more watchful and Jamar knew he was still playing the game and suspected him of wanting to help Silas.

  Letting his eyes drop in shame, Jamar said, “You may have been right. It was fun to have a playmate my age, one who would do whatever I wanted.”

  “An easy trap to fall into, but he is not a toy or a pet. He is stock and you have to be prepared to harvest them at all times. You cannot allow even the smallest attachment to form.”

  Jamar nodded. “I understand better now, although it is also true that I don’t want you to lose money on him. Is there a way to make the Car ready to harvest?”

  “It would be difficult, but there are some things I could try. They would take time though.”

  “Well, the sooner I can harvest him the better.”

  “I’ll start up a plan and perhaps you could join me in the control room to see if your idea works.”

  Jamar let himself smile. “I look forward to it.”

  “Then I’ll see you in the morning.”