Clean Slate Complex (a daynight story)

CHAPTER EIGHT

  Joshua Black’s the head of the “Deny the SCI movement.” That’s just beautiful. Violet and Victor Black don’t suspect a thing. To them, he’s the obedient son—as Joshua says, “beyond reproach.” Hasn’t he kept me in line? By day I’m doing everything the SCI wants. I speak to the press. Attend the rallies. Allow myself to be videoed and photographed at every turn as I spread the SCI’s fairy tales. By night when I’m not with my mom (who is still in a Victor Black-induced coma), I’m huddled together with Joshua on the couch of our apartment. He sings, while we write up our plans on paper and then commit the ideas to memory, before soaking them in water and putting them down the garbage disposal. We’re careful to “work” only when his sister’s out of the suite. She’d be happy to blow the whistle on us, as she’s disgusted that her brother pays any attention to the “trash” her parents brought in.

  Thankfully, my head’s clear again; free of the happy pills. Joshua managed to wean me from the drugs, by slowly replacing the pills with fake ones. I’m channeling all the anger and despair I feel over the SCI’s actions and threats into fuel for one emotion...revenge.

  Despite the pictures Jax showed me, I’m not convinced Adam’s alive and well. Granted I wasn’t in the warehouse with Adam when it turned into the fiery inferno of hell, and I did watch it by video feed. There just wasn’t enough time to doctor up a film like that. The people in the video were the same ones on that bus. I watched them die. Jax told me that I can’t possibly understand, but that one day Joshua will show me things that’ll make me question a whole lot more than the SCI.

  Joshua and I decide to take some calculated risks. Today we’ll start putting our plans into action. I’m driving Joshua crazy as I switch between chewing my fingernails down to their stubs and pacing the room. He’s strumming on his guitar and humming “Crazy lady...needs a chill pill. Makes no sense to...eat her fingers. Zombie’s pacing...wants a victim. Save me. Save me. She’ll slurps my ‘testines.”

  I stomp over all crazy like I’m going to snack on his brains but flop down next to him on the couch. “You’re disgusting.”

  He laughs out loud and holds up my hand. “I’m disgusting?” His touch turns my pile of nerves into a pile of goo. I feel the impression of his hand long after he lets go.

  “I’m just worried that I forgot to get all my laundry out of my room. I hate having dirty things in there.” We have a homeless person in each of our rooms. They’re going to play an important part in our scheme today.

  “Chill. We’ll deal with your dirty laundry later.” He goes back to playing his tune which is interrupted by the doorbell. I answer and am horrified to see Violet. We’ve been caught. Someone must have seen us sneak our “stand-ins” upstairs.

  Instead of calling me on the carpet she gives me a huge hug. She reeks of a floral perfume. “Alexa dear. I’ve brought you letters from your brothers.” She hands me a stack of opened letters. I see that a Sharpie’s been used to black out some parts, but I don’t show emotion. Far as she knows I’m still all hopped up on the happy pills. “Even though the SCI’s fully paperless I made an exception so that you could see that the notes are indeed in your brothers’ handwriting.”

  It’s true that I wouldn’t have trusted emails from them. They could easily be faked.

  Violet passes by me to go chat with her son. Despite the fact we have two stowaways in the suite Joshua doesn’t miss a beat. He stands up to give her a hug. She kisses him on the cheek and leaves a red lipstick impression.

  “Hey Mother. We all set for the Reallocation? Anything you need me to do? We were just about to head down.”

  I tune out their conversation and scan the letters. Trey assures me that they are all fine and enjoying their new gigs as security guards at a newly opened Clean Slate Complex facility. I have no idea which location they are at thanks to the Sharpie censoring. Lol has a crush on one of the laundry girls. Bryce’s working the night shift and hasn’t quite adjusted to his new schedule. They miss me and Mom and send their love. Trey closes his note by mentioning that the (name blackened) head of their CSC has taken a personal interest in each of them and will be keeping a close eye on them.

  Violet invites us to walk down with her. Once in the elevator I set us up for an early exit from the ceremony. “How old was that tuna casserole you heated us up for lunch?” I ask Joshua. I clench my stomach.

  Joshua starts to squirm and turns away like he’s embarrassed. “Not sure. A week maybe?”

  Violet scrunches her face in disgust. “Joshua, I taught you better than that. I don’t want you guys interrupting the ceremony. Sit near the back and you take her straight back up to your suite if you think she’s going to be sick.”

  Perfect.

  All goes as planned. Midway through the Reallocation announcements I start dry heaving. Joshua’s holding his stomach too. He gestures to his mom that we’re heading out.

  We rush back upstairs and swap clothes with our guests. Joshua flashes a wad of cash before handing them the equivalent of the fictional week-old tuna surprise—a little syrup of ipecac cocktail. That’ll keep them busy until we return. We can’t take the chance that Jenny’ll see them, but we surely want her to hear them puking and back our story about us being sick.

  Despite having lived in filth for three years, I have to say it’s a whole lot easier wearing your own filth than someone else’s. I’m gagging at the stench of my double’s clothing and for the first time since I got here, I’m wishing I could put back on my Femley-form. Joshua applies some extra touches to our getup to better disguise us. We’ve both got hats that cast large shadows over our faces and eyes.

  Joshua whispers, “Let’s get out of here.” We high tail it out of the suite, down the stairwell and out the back door of the complex. Everyone’s still caught up in the ceremony so we’ve got time to get to our destination: the warehouse of death.

  Not being able to trust taking a car, as it could be tracked, we jog the whole way, cutting through some back alleys. Turns out our destination’s only a couple miles, so we make it in twenty minutes. The weather’s unbearably hot and muggy today, the smog blanketing the city like a brown blanket. We watch from an alleyway between two empty buildings for a few minutes to see how much security’s around the warehouse. Thankfully this isn’t a populated part of town. The only traffic’s out front of the building and we’re back behind the parking lot.

  It’s rare that we’re able to have a free conversation, so I take advantage of the opportunity. “You’ve never really explained to me why you’re going against your parents and the SCI.”

  Joshua frowns, and I can tell I’ve hit a nerve. It’s a good thirty seconds before he replies. “When my parents took over the shelter and built the CSC, they warned me not to make friends with the ‘locals.’ I didn’t listen. I was seventeen, bored and wanted to spend time around other kids my age. My parents decided to turn my disobedience into an object lesson by putting my friends on the ‘A’ bus and bringing me here to see them off.”

  I want to be strong, but I’m off the tear stopping meds, so my eyes fill with the salty water. “I’m so sorry. My mom’s not perfect, but she’d never do something so horrible.” There’d been times where I resented having to move out of our apartment and into the van, not to mention quitting school to play caretaker to my mom. I took out my anger on her sometimes, but that’s nothing compared to what Joshua’s parents did to him.

  “I figure what goes around, comes around,” Joshua says. “And what we’re doing will help speed up that process.”

  His comment reminds me that it’s the A bus that is headed here. “Where do the ‘B’ and ‘C’ buses go?” I ask. “Do they go to other buildings like this?”

  “Nope. The B’s get reallocated to some remote SCI locations. I was born at one of those spots. One of these days I’ll figure out how to take you there so that you can see how it works. And, the C’s head to the airport...and out to all the various locations around the world,??
? he says.

  “Wait, so the B’s don’t go to the remote locations by plane?” I ask.

  “It’s complicated. Another one of those things you have to see to believe. You’d surely never forget the trip,” he says with a concerned look on his face. “To be in the B group, the person’s got to have something in their blood called DNT that allows them to adapt to these remote spots. You’ve got enough in your system to be able to go—it’s why my parents are so interested in you—but I just don’t know how to pull off taking you there.”

  Well, I guess that answers my questions about why the people that got flagged for having high DNT always got offered a bed at the complex. “It’s time. You ready?” he asks.

  “Yep.”

  The slacker security guards round the side of the building for a smoke break. Joshua points me to where I need to go, and I head over and hide behind a dumpster, leaving the more difficult job to Joshua. He inserts a key card and ducks through the side door and into the building.

  Doesn’t take long for the familiar silver bus to roll up and unload its victims. I snap shots of the bus, of the Reallocated being unloaded and of them entering the warehouse. Joshua picked us up some honest to goodness spy gear at a local shop. My camera looks like an ordinary pen, but takes high quality pictures with time stamps. Joshua got us a combination lockbox a couple blocks from the complex, to store the evidence we gather. He’s currently doing the far more dangerous thing...which is filming the executions. Whether faux or real, the footage is like a gold mine. If possible, Joshua’s going to try to get a direct feed off the video link. If not, he’ll video the video and it’ll have to be good enough.

  Security triples with the arrival of the bus and with the original rent-a-cops off their extended smoke break. Once the Reallocated are less-than-safely inside, I wedge myself back behind the dumpster and wait. I’ll want to get some more shots of the buses leaving empty, but until then I’m staying out of sight. Joshua’s situation worries me though. He thought there’d only be a couple extra stiffs here watching the doors, but the SCI must have upped their security after our last visit here.

  From my vantage point, I can keep an eye on the door Joshua went in.

  After fifteen minutes the four extra guards exit the building and head to the buses. I snap a couple shots of the bus leaving with just the guards and drivers. Security’s back down to the two slackers now.

  The bus gone, I try to slip back behind the dumpster, but Rent-a-Cop 1 catches sight of me and radios Rent-a-Cop 2 for backup. My heart’s pounding in my chest as I try to think up a story that’ll fly.

  “What do you think you’re doing here?” Rent-a-Cop 1 is tall, skinny, has carrot-colored hair and cigarette-stained teeth.

  “Napping.” I pretend to stretch. “Good one, too, until all that racket a bit ago.”

  “This is private property. I’m going to have to hold you here until my boss gets back. You picked a bad spot for your nap.” He attempts to look scary and menacing. Given I’m female and look pretty harmless in my getup, he hasn’t reached for his gun.

  I pull my cap down to hide my eyes and pretend to be a little tipsy. “Scored a fifth last night. Not sure how I ended up here. Where is here?”

  I sway. Play the damsel in distress. Rent-a-Cop 1 buys the act. I stumble and he grabs me, wanting to keep my upright. But, I use my dead weight to sink into him. This catches him off guard. He has to use two hands to steady me.

  “You’ve got some fine curves under all them layers,” he says. The creep actually cops a feel. Bad move.

  Flashing him a smile, I pretend like it’s his lucky day. While I reach around and grab his gun.

  His eyes go wide. Knows I tricked him.

  Then I bring my knee to his balls without mercy. He clutches his groin to protect his package from a second assault. A string of curses, that’d even make my brothers blush, stream out of his mouth.

  I release the safety and point the gun at his head. Wipe sweat from my eyes with my left hand. Guns make me nervous. This one’s heavy and feels awkward. I’m shaking.

  “Drop it.” I look up to see a second gun pointing at me from a dozen yards away.

  Fabulous. Rent-a-Cop 2 has arrived. He’s overweight and gasping for breath. But unlike his partner, he knows what he’s doing. Seeing a gun pointed at me has me feeling like I’m going to pass out. But I swallow and push down the fear.

  We’ve got a bit of a stalemate going on. I wonder who’s more motivated? The person holding evidence that could bring down the SCI? Or the guy who’s likely making minimum wage to keep watch on a warehouse where people go in, but never come back out?

  Joshua’s a wild card in this. I don’t want him caught in any crossfire. I slowly shift my direction and Rent-a-Cop 2 follows my lead. This puts his back to the door that I know Joshua’ll be coming out of any time now.

  “Missy, I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I have’ta. So, put the gun down nice and slow,” he demands.

  I shake my head. “No thanks. I rather like it. You know how much this baby’ll make me? I’ll be eating pretty for a month.” Weapons are easy to hock for some great cash on the streets. When the hired slugs go to report back to the SCI, I want there to be no question in their mind that they ran into a couple of street kids.

  Rent-a-Cop 2 brushes his greasy blond strands out of his eyes and glares at me. “You’ll be sitting in jail long before that happens. Or maybe, just maybe, I’ll take care of you myself. Self-defense and all. I bet I get a promotion.”

  His finger’s getting itchy on that trigger. Bastard’s really thinking about shooting me.

  I’m raining sweat. This guy doesn’t care if his partner dies as long as he gets to play hero.

  Please God. Send something to distract this guy.

  The side door opens and creaks loudly. The Almighty’s working fast today.

  Joshua’s out. About time. The gun’s getting slippery in my hands I’m sweating so bad.

  Rent-a-Cop 2 glances over his shoulder to see if help’s arrived. His gun’s no longer trained on my head.

  I’m worried he’s going to shoot Joshua. So, I aim for Rent-a-Cop 2’s kneecap and shoot. Graze his calf instead. Hell, I’m lucky I hit him at all.

  The dude stumbles. His gun goes off and nearly takes off Rent-a-Cop 1’s head, who’d been trying to lunge for me and failed. Instead, Rent-a-Cop 1’s on all fours and hyperventilating.

  Joshua rushes Rent-a-Cop 2 before he can do more damage. He grabs the guy’s arm with one hand and then punches him in the elbow to get him to drop the gun.

  Rent-a-Cop 2 knows his chances without the weapon aren’t so hot. So he dives for his gun. Joshua tackles him. They’re exchanging blows, tit for tat.

  I can’t get off a clean shot. Besides, I’ve got to cover Rent-a-Cop 1 who’s recovered from the near miss and wants in on the action.

  “Get down on your stomach. Now,” I yell at Rent-a-Cop 1. He wisely does as he’s told.

  Rent-a-Cop 2 manages to get out of Joshua’s clutches and stand. He’s circling Joshua, trying to get closer to the gun, but his bum leg’s slowing him down.

  Joshua’s faster. He kicks the gun under the dumpster.

  “You think I can’t take on a couple of drunks without a weapon?” Rent-a-Cop 2 says as he tries to ram Joshua with his shoulder.

  Joshua deflects the hit and rolls behind Rent-a-Cop 2. Then jumps to his feet and pulls him into a stranglehold.

  All efforts on Rent-a-Cop 2’s part to shift momentum are worthless. He’s shorter and has got a whole lot less muscle to work with.

  Joshua’s got his left arm wrapped around Rent-a-Cop 2’s neck. He’s pressing his head into the hold with his right hand.

  Rent-a-Cop 2 slumps forward. He’s out cold. That’s a dangerous move Joshua used. One I refused to have my brothers teach me. If you don’t do it right, it can kill a man.

  Rent-a-Cop 1 panics, thinking his partner really is dead and he’s next. He figures he bett
er take me on before Joshua gets over here.

  Being on his stomach, his options are limited. So he tries to roll. Wants to take me out at the feet.

  Idiot. There’s no slope and he’s got zero momentum.

  I slam my heavy boot into his shoulder.

  He twists and tries to grab my foot. Gets enough of a hold to twist my ankle, but I shift my weight and crush a finger.

  My blood’s pumping. I’m not losing another fight. Never again. I lean down and slam the butt of the gun into his temple.

  Hopefully my move only causes a concussion and not brain damage. Either way, Rent-a-Cop 1’s out of the game.

  Joshua’s by my side and barking orders. “We need to move, now. I’m sure they called for backup. Even if they didn’t, someone was bound to hear the shots.” I can hear tires screeching close by. He grabs the gun from me, wipes it and tosses it in the dumpster.

  “Follow me.” I trail behind as he breaks into a run.

  Joshua winds us through several alleys. My adrenaline fuels my speed. While looking back to see if we’re being followed, I clip the side of a jagged brick building rounding a corner. The impact tears my jacket and leaves a gash in my arm. I push the pain away and keep going.

  Joshua must see the blood dripping because he stops us between two dumpsters.

  “We’re not being followed. So let’s hold up a minute,” he says.

  I sit down and catch my breath. “Oh thank goodness. These don’t make good running clothes.”

  “Take off the jacket so I can get a look at your arm,” he instructs. I pull it off and Joshua strips a piece of fabric from his undershirt—the only mildly clean thing on him—and wraps my arm. It’s not much more than a glorified scratch, so I’m not worried.

  I smile up at him. “Thanks. I’m good.”

  “You shot the one guy. And bludgeoned the other one,” Joshua points out. Until now, I hadn’t fully thought about what I’d done. I definitely wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t think my life was at risk. Rent-a-Cop 2’d been daydreaming a little too realistically about being a hero. And Rent-a-Cop 1...well he’d been trying to defend himself. I’d have done the same thing. Just not in such a stupid way.

  I take a couple deep breaths to slow my breathing. “The fat one told me he was going to shoot me to get a promotion. I wasn’t trying to kill him.”

  “It was seriously hot. You with the gun, protecting us from the evil SCI security goons,” he says. He’s smirking and then breaks into song about a “bum with a gun on the run; hotter than the sun, and a hell of a lot of fun.” He takes my hand and starts drumming a beat on it, setting my nerve endings on fire. I stare at him in awe. I was wrong about him. Despite growing up with a silver spoon in his mouth, he’s as down to earth as it gets...as comfortable in ratty, stinky street clothes as he is in his SCI-approved uniform. A few minutes ago, he disarmed a security guard with the precision of a professional. And now, he’s singing silly tunes in a dark alley to calm my nerves, despite the fact we just ran away from the scene of a crime and are in possession of some rather damaging material.

  “Like something you see?” he asks, stopping his tune, but continuing to drum the beat on my hand.

  “Yeah, I do,” I say. “I mean, you smell as bad as these dumpsters, but …” My words trail off as he reaches over to push a strand of hair away from my eyes and then runs his thumb around the outline of my lips. His near colorless eyes flood with emotion and my breath hitches.

  “Ms. Alexa, Alex, Lexie, Lex Knight. Would you do me the great honor of allowing me to kiss you?”

  I’m speechless. All I can do is nod. He moves in and presses his lips lightly to mine, whisper soft. The electrifying sensation ends too quickly as he shifts his attention to my ear, gently nibbling. It tickles and I giggle.

  “This is hardly a laughing matter.” He whispers directly into my ears and it gives me the chills. Turning to my neck he covers every bit of real estate.

  Every kiss, nibble and lick builds the tension and anticipation. I moan happy sounds. My hands dig into his hair, tugging him towards me.

  “That’s better.”

  I mumble. “Uh huh.”

  “I’m going to kiss you harder now.” Oh thank goodness. He crushes into me, parts my lips with his tongue and deepens the kiss. I whimper, not being able to get close enough.

  Joshua must feel the same. He pulls me onto his lap and the world around us disappears. We could be atop the Eiffel Tower in Paris, or on a secluded beach in Hawaii. It wouldn’t matter. The fact that he doesn’t care that we’re surrounded by trash, that we’re wearing other people’s filthy clothing, or that we smell like dead fish, is about the most romantic and sexy thing I could ever imagine. Nothing else registers, but the feel of his lips on mine as we explore each other.

  Unfortunately, the siren of a passing police car brings us back to reality.

  Joshua pulls back for a moment. “Wow. Even better than I’ve been imagining.”

  “And how long have you been imagining?” I ask, wondering if he’s been crushing as long as I have.

  “Since the moment I first saw you from the bus...fighting that ice addict. There really is nothing hotter than a girl who can fight,” he admits. “I had to warn off a few other guys to get that spot behind you in line at the rally.”

  “What took you so long then? To kiss me?” I whisper. He’d flirted with me that first day, but then backed off, despite my efforts to spend as much time with him in our suite as possible.

  “I thought you were into Adam, not me. You spent so much time with him. You kissed him,” he says, wincing. I didn’t realize he’d seen that.

  “He kissed me. I...cared...care about him. But, as a friend,” I say. “My interests were...are...elsewhere.”

  His lips curl upward. “Is that so? Where are your interests?”

  I press back into him and proceed to run my lips across him, using the same path he’d used on me. Lips, ear, throat and back. He murmurs, “It looks like our interests are aligning on all fronts.”

  After the warehouse “heist” Joshua and I feel better about being able to succeed. We steal Victor Black’s tablet and copy the data onto another device. The most interesting thing we find amongst the data’s a list of “Daynighters.” From what I can tell, these folks are the inner circle of the SCI, and there’s some big name folks on that list. One of my projects will be figuring out what each of their ties are to the SCI and how much they might know about what the Blacks are up to.

  All told, we’ve got a whole bunch of damning evidence against the SCI, but I’m reluctant to blow the lid off the place until we figure out the right way to play it. Do we trickle it out little by little, hoping to damage their reputation? Or do we pull out the nuclear bomb and show the executions? Wouldn’t the SCI just claim that the tape is doctored? The SCI continues to gain support and numbers throughout the world. So, I know it’s going to be an uphill battle. We need to increase our own numbers. Right now we’re David vs. Goliath—and Goliath’s huge army. I’m not liking the odds.

  Joshua and I keep our relationship hidden. We can’t let his sister or parents think he’s doing anything other than controlling my every action. We’re thieves. Stealing the SCI’s lies and stealing moments together as we do. The only label I can give what we have is incredible. Maybe it’ll grow into some textbook definition of love. Perhaps it’ll turn into something even better. Or it could dry up and become hard and ugly. All I know is that I’m going to enjoy the ride.

  As I’m getting ready to head out to a “Clean Slate luncheon” with some top donors to the SCI, I overhear Joshua and his mother talking in our kitchen.

  “I don’t trust the girl, Joshua,” his mother’s saying. I assume she means me. And she’s right—I can’t be trusted.

  Joshua responds with “I have an idea. One you won’t like, but hear me out. Alexa’s got enough DNT in her system. Let Ethan and I take her home to Thera for a visit. We’ll work on getting her on board to t
he cause. He’d be the perfect salesman, don’t you think? If it doesn’t work, it’ll have the side effect of scaring her into permanent submission.” I hear him chuckle, which pisses me off. I guess Joshua finally figured out how to take me to his hometown. His tone worries me a bit, since it sounds like taking me there will be helping his mom in some way, instead of doing it to show me what happens to the people on the “B” buses. I just have to remember that Joshua’s got to perform for his parents just like I do, so I bury the nagging feeling that I can’t trust him.

  “Fine. But only if Ethan supervises,” she says. Why would she trust Ethan to supervise us? Ethan seemed as thrilled about the SCI as Joshua and I are. “And steer clear of my sister while you’re there, will you? We wouldn’t want her to try to keep Alexa there for herself. Alexa’s mine.” As if.

  I’ve done a lot of terrible things in my life. Lying. Stealing. Even my fair share of manipulating. I’ve got a pile of regrets, that’s for sure. The list of things I’m going to have to do moving forward will be way worse than what I’ve done. But, I haven’t yet and am not going to, regret a single one of the things I have to do to take down Violet and Victor Black and the entire SCI.

  Every one of the means will be justified in the end.