our
territory,” said a voice. “We’re just trying to teach you respect.
You stay on the free public sidewalks and don’t go inside other people’s
Kingdoms. Not unless they ask you.” The chain whistled and slapped again.
George tried to breathe, but the effort to
inhale knotted his chest tighter, forcing breath out instead of in.
It is a desperate thing having your lungs
working against you. The knot tightening the lungs held for another second and
then loosened. He drew in a rasping breath of cool air, and another. Air came
in like waves of light, dispelling the blindness and bringing back awareness of
arms and legs. He straightened out from the curled-up knot and lay on his back
breathing deeply and listening to the sounds around him.
The helicopter motor hummed in the distance. The
copter pilot is listening, he thought, but he doesn’t know I’m in trouble.
He heard a clink and a hiss of breath like
someone making an effort. He rolled suddenly over to one side and covered his
face. The chain hit where he had been. He rolled to a crouch with both feet
under him, and for the first time looked at the circle of faces of the teeners
who had beaten and made fun of him when he was pretending to be drunk and
making believe to be Carl Hodges, and had stumbled into this forbidden
territory. He had been retracing Carl Hodges’ actions, but he had not been sure
it was working. He had been near Carl Hodges here, but he had no proof, no
reason to protest when they punished him for violating their boundaries. The
faces were the same. Young but cold, some faces were uncertain about punishing
an adult, but gaining courage from the others. All sizes of teeners in costumes
from many communes, but the fellowship and good nature he was used to seeing in
groups was missing.
“I used to be in a gang like yours
once” he said rapidly to inform the radio listener. “I thought you
wouldn’t jump me. I didn’t come here to get stomped. I just want my antique
watch and to tell you something.”
He finished the sentence with a quick leap to
one side, but the swinging chain swung up and followed, slapped into his skin
and curled a line of dents around ribs, chest and arms. The magnet on the end
clanked and clung against a loop of chain. The owner of the chain yanked hard
on his handle and the metal lumps turned to teeth and bit in and the chain
tightened like rope. George staggered and straightened and stood wrapped up in
biting steel chain.
He stood very still. “Hey,” he said
softly. “That ain’t nice.”
“Tell us about your news.” The circle
of teeners and juvs around him were curious about the message he wanted to
deliver to them.
George said, “A friend of mine was figuring
from my lumps that I got here last time that you’ve got something important you
want me to keep away from. He figures you got the missing computerman. The one
who blew up Brooklyn Dome. There’s a reward out for him.”
A ripple of shock ran through the group
surrounding him but the blond kid did not need time to assimilate the threat.
Without change of expression he made a gesture of command. “Three of you
check the streets. Maybe he brought somebody with him.” Three ran silently
in different directions.
“I’m just doing you a favor telling you
what people say,” George said in stupid tones. “Now you gotta do me a
favor and help me get my watch back.”
” Favor?” screamed the tall,
misproportioned one with the chain. “Favor? You stupid fink, you should
have kept your stupid mouth shut.” He yanked hard on the chain to make its
teeth extend more sharply.
An outraged force had been expanding in George’s
chest. He stood still, looking meek and confused one more second, watching his
captors snarl and hate him for having “told his friend.” Then he bent
forward and butted the chain holder down, rolled over his form to the cement
and rolled rapidly down three small cement steps, unrolling the chain behind
him. He came
territory,” said a voice. “We’re just trying to teach you respect.
You stay on the free public sidewalks and don’t go inside other people’s
Kingdoms. Not unless they ask you.” The chain whistled and slapped again.
George tried to breathe, but the effort to
inhale knotted his chest tighter, forcing breath out instead of in.
It is a desperate thing having your lungs
working against you. The knot tightening the lungs held for another second and
then loosened. He drew in a rasping breath of cool air, and another. Air came
in like waves of light, dispelling the blindness and bringing back awareness of
arms and legs. He straightened out from the curled-up knot and lay on his back
breathing deeply and listening to the sounds around him.
The helicopter motor hummed in the distance. The
copter pilot is listening, he thought, but he doesn’t know I’m in trouble.
He heard a clink and a hiss of breath like
someone making an effort. He rolled suddenly over to one side and covered his
face. The chain hit where he had been. He rolled to a crouch with both feet
under him, and for the first time looked at the circle of faces of the teeners
who had beaten and made fun of him when he was pretending to be drunk and
making believe to be Carl Hodges, and had stumbled into this forbidden
territory. He had been retracing Carl Hodges’ actions, but he had not been sure
it was working. He had been near Carl Hodges here, but he had no proof, no
reason to protest when they punished him for violating their boundaries. The
faces were the same. Young but cold, some faces were uncertain about punishing
an adult, but gaining courage from the others. All sizes of teeners in costumes
from many communes, but the fellowship and good nature he was used to seeing in
groups was missing.
“I used to be in a gang like yours
once” he said rapidly to inform the radio listener. “I thought you
wouldn’t jump me. I didn’t come here to get stomped. I just want my antique
watch and to tell you something.”
He finished the sentence with a quick leap to
one side, but the swinging chain swung up and followed, slapped into his skin
and curled a line of dents around ribs, chest and arms. The magnet on the end
clanked and clung against a loop of chain. The owner of the chain yanked hard
on his handle and the metal lumps turned to teeth and bit in and the chain
tightened like rope. George staggered and straightened and stood wrapped up in
biting steel chain.
He stood very still. “Hey,” he said
softly. “That ain’t nice.”
“Tell us about your news.” The circle
of teeners and juvs around him were curious about the message he wanted to
deliver to them.
George said, “A friend of mine was figuring
from my lumps that I got here last time that you’ve got something important you
want me to keep away from. He figures you got the missing computerman. The one
who blew up Brooklyn Dome. There’s a reward out for him.”
A ripple of shock ran through the group
surrounding him but the blond kid did not need time to assimilate the threat.
Without change of expression he made a gesture of command. “Three of you
check the streets. Maybe he brought somebody with him.” Three ran silently
in different directions.
“I’m just doing you a favor telling you
what people say,” George said in stupid tones. “Now you gotta do me a
favor and help me get my watch back.”
” Favor?” screamed the tall,
misproportioned one with the chain. “Favor? You stupid fink, you should
have kept your stupid mouth shut.” He yanked hard on the chain to make its
teeth extend more sharply.
An outraged force had been expanding in George’s
chest. He stood still, looking meek and confused one more second, watching his
captors snarl and hate him for having “told his friend.” Then he bent
forward and butted the chain holder down, rolled over his form to the cement
and rolled rapidly down three small cement steps, unrolling the chain behind
him. He came
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