Under My Skin by Charles de Lint
"The ironic thing is that everybody wants a piece of it except for those who've actually become Wildlings. A lot of kids just want to turn back the clock to how things were before they changed."
I think about that. Life was simpler before, that's for sure, and I definitely wouldn't be in this mess right now. But the longer I've had the mountain lion under my skin, the more comforting it feels. The more normal. I like how it amplifies everything. My hearing. My sight. My endurance.
I realize I don't want to go back to the old normal anymore. Like Nira says in her blog, we should revel in our gift, not turn our backs on it.
Once again, I find myself wishing I were just waiting out this couple of hours in silence, but Rico goes on. "I guess sooner or later, somebody'll figure it all out," he says. "The people holding us here have a lot riding on it. It's not just about developing perfect servants, soldiers and spies. Think about the aging population. Baby boomers are getting near pension age. Imagine the big bucks waiting for anybody who can provide a way for them to feel young and strong again."
"You think it would actually work like that for old people?"
Rico smiles. "It doesn't matter what I think. What matters is what people like the ones holding us think. If they believe it's a possibility, they'll throw everything they've got into it—including kidnapping kids like us."
He's probably right. I feel myself sliding into depression. Maybe Elzie and the ferals are right, too—that it's such a huge mess that we should just get rid of everything and start over. But then I think of my mom and my friends and I know I could never get behind anything that would hurt them or other innocent people.
For sure there are a lot of unethical humans, but not everybody's like that. It's just a small percentage. Unfortunately, that percentage always seems to hold all the cards—and they probably will unless we can figure out another way to deal with them.
I'm still trying to keep my spirits up, but let's face it. This has been the worst day of my life. It started with finding out that one of my friends had committed suicide and now look where I am.
"It's a pretty shitty world," I say.
"No, it's a great world," Rico says. "Only a few shitty people screw it up."
He holds up a hand suddenly.
"You hear that?" he asks.
As soon as he says it, I do. It sounded like the clang of a door. And now I hear footsteps. Two pairs.
"This doesn't make sense," Rico says. "They never come in here at night. Maybe it's because you're new and they were watching to see what you'd do."
"What do we do?"
"Nothing. Play it cool. Maybe just the guards saw us talking and they're only coming to check up. Soon as they see we're still safely locked up, they'll leave."
I stand up. I don't want to play it cool. I want to set the mountain lion loose on whoever comes through that door.
"And if they don't?" I say. "If it's somebody coming to experiment on us?"
"They always gas you first," Rico says. He gives a nod in the direction of the ceiling. "It sprays down from nozzles up there."
I look up. "I don't see anything."
"They're up there. Trust me. They're built right into the ceiling."
The footsteps are right outside the main room now. Something whirs inside the door, then it hisses open and they step inside. A man and a woman.
Marina
"Did you hear what he called me?" Desmond says as we go into Computerland. "He called me 'bro.'"
I have to smile. Trust Desmond to focus on that.
"I wouldn't make too much of it," I say.
"No, I think it's a sign of respect, you know? He didn't call anybody else 'bro.'"
"Nope. Guess that means you're in the gang now. Have fun with that."
"Ha ha," Desmond says, bumping my shoulder. "If anyone's in the gang, it's you. He obviously wants to jump your bones."
I ignore that and steer us over to the laptop displays. "Why do you care what anybody thinks of you anyway?"
"I don't. But, you know. I'm not a Wildling like you guys, so it's kind of cool that he likes me."
It's not busy, so a sales rep approaches us before I can check to see if any of the laptops are online. Normally I wouldn't mind talking to him. He's cute—almost as tall as Desmond—with wavy brown hair that keeps falling across his eyes, no matter how often he uses his fingers to brush it back. He smells good, too. Clean, no cologne. His nametag reads "Evan."
"Can I help you find something?" he asks.
"Hey, dude," Desmond says. "What can you tell me about this Toshiba?"
I drift away as Evan starts to describe the machine. Halfway down the aisle, I stop at another laptop. I wake the screen from sleep mode and do a quick check for the online icon, then open a browser. Down the aisle, Desmond is playing especially dim with the sales rep, who's doing a great job of not sounding annoyed.
A few Google searches later and I have nothing. I find a schematic of the whole commercial area around the complex, but nothing for the ValentiCorp building itself. I try rephrasing my search, but have no better luck.
I shouldn't be surprised. If they can hire all those security guards, they certainly won't have anything easily accessible online.
I rejoin Desmond and lean against him.
"I'm bored," I say.
Desmond is quick to get the hint. He gives Evan a "what can you do?" raise of his eyebrows.
"Thanks for your time, dude," he says. "I'll be back."
Evan hands him his card, which Desmond sticks in his pocket and we saunter off.
"Nothing?" he asks when we're out of Evan's hearing.
"Not even close. It was a good idea, but I guess it was a long shot that they'd have something like that online."
"Some companies do, for their employees. I'll bet it's in their own computer network."
"Yeah," I say, "behind some firewall that we'd never be able to crack."
We stop and look at each other.
"Barry," we say at the same time and trade high-fives.
Desmond takes out his phone and makes the call.
"Barry," Desmond says when the connection is made. "I need your help, dude."
"Wait a minute," I hear Barry say, thanks to my Wildling hearing. "Tell me what's up with Josh. I saw you guys in a YouTube video of the FBI taking him down. Where the hell do they come off thinking they can pull crap like that?"
"It's not the FBI."
"They've been saying that on the news, but come on. You don't buy that crap, do you? Those guys were totally Feds."
"Except they weren't. They were from ValentiCorp. They kidnapped Josh and we need you to help us hack into their computer system."
"Are you shitting me?"
"I wish."
"What do they want with Josh?"
"They think he's a Wildling," Desmond says.
"Yeah, and I'm bopping Joanie Jones. Seriously, man, no joke, why are you calling?"
"I just told you."
"You really want to access ValentiCorp's servers?"
"We need a floor plan of the building," Desmond says, "so we can figure out where they're keeping Josh and how we can get in there."
"Not going to happen. Their security's like an impenetrable vault. I mean, think about it. They're always dealing with military contracts and shit like that. They've got firewalls up the doo-dah."
"You make it sound like you've already tried to get in."
"I might have taken a run a time or two—just to see if I could."
"So you can't help."
"I didn't say that. We can't access ValentiCorp's servers, but the Santa Feliz Zoning Commission? That'd be a piece of cake. You don't get to build something that big without filing a gazillion schematics and blueprints."
"How fast can you get in?"
"I'm already in. I've been working on it as we speak, m'man. Now, let's see. Crap, these are big files. How much free storage have you got on your phone?"
"How would I know?"
"The Computerland building across the parking lot from ValentiCorp."
"Give me fifteen. I'll bring what you need on a laptop. Hang on … this is interesting. Have you ever been to Disneyland?"
"Dude, that's like asking me if I've ever been to the pier."
"Yeah, yeah. Well, you know how Disney has that huge service space underneath, with a whole network of access tunnels and stuff?"
"I've heard about it," Desmond says.
"ValentiCorp has the same deal under their parking lot. It stretches right under all those box stores like the one you're in."
"What does that mean?"
"It means we can probably get in through a back door."
"He can't come with us," I tell Desmond.
He holds up his hand to me. "That's great," he says into the phone. "Get here as quick as you can."
"Fifteen minutes," Barry says.
Desmond snaps his phone shut.
"He really can't come," I repeat. "We might have to change shapes at some point. He can't be part of that."
Desmond smiles. "Yeah, I guess there's that thing you have about us seeing you naked."
"Desmond, I'm not kidding and you have no idea what you're even talking about. My point is, too many people already know who shouldn't."
"Okay, I was just making a joke. I get it. You wish I didn't know because you think I'm going to betray you."
"No, I don't. That just came out wrong. You know what I mean. You know how Barry loves to talk."
"What else could I do?" Desmond says. "We need those plans. Let's wait for him to bring what we need and then we can deal with it."
There are a couple of long benches outside Computerland, where shoppers can take a break, I guess. When Desmond and I exit the store, Auntie Min and Tomás are sitting on one bench, Elzie, Cory and Chaingang on the other. ValentiCorp can still be seen in the distance, spotlights emphasizing its towering height.
Desmond plops himself down on the seat between Elzie and Chaingang, then leans toward Chaingang and says, "We're on it bro. Best computer geek in town's coming over here to help us."
Chaingang gives Desmond a considering look, then gets up.
"Getting a bit crowded around here," he says. "I'm gonna send my crew off. Let 'em get a bite to eat."
He saunters around the corner and I take his seat at the end of the bench.
I hope Barry gets here quick and that we can keep our Wildling identities under wraps. He's too connected to the Net and geek-land for comfort.
"Barry's great," I say, "but let's not share any of our, um, personal stuff, okay?"
"Well at least it's not just me that you don't trust," Desmond says.
I elbow him in the ribs as we watch the motorbikes pull out and Chaingang walking back toward us. The bikes go in the opposite direction from ValentiCorp.
When Chaingang gets back to where we're waiting, he pauses, looks at the empty space beside Tomás, then shakes his head and comes back toward our bench, where I'm sitting. I slide over toward Des, so there's just enough room for Chaingang to sit on the end beside me. Desmond snickers and I elbow him a little harder this time.
"Like the man said, it's a bit crowded," I tell Desmond. "Scoot over a bit and give us some room."
"Nah, it's cool now," says Chaingang.
Desmond can't suppress another silly grin. I give his arm a little push and he shifts toward Elzie, giving me a bit more space.
Chaingang leans across me and looks down the bench toward Cory. "Hey, coyote boy," he says. "How come the old lady didn't mention you when she was talking about the old-school clans?"
Cory shrugs. "Nobody trusts us. We're like the crow clans and the buzzards—carrion eaters, so we're always on the outside."
"Raven's a carrion eater, too, but they all seem to give him big props."
"Yeah, but he made the world. Bad-mouthing him would be like talking back to the Thunders."
I give Chaingang a little push and he sits back straight again.
I look at Cory. "Those Thunders—are they even real?"
"What do you mean?" Cory says.
"Do they actually exist, or are they more like mythical gods or something?"
"They're the big mysteries," he says. "Some say they're pieces of the Creator, some say they're his voice."
"Is one of the Thunders this guy called Raven?"
He shakes his head. "Raven just made the world. Something had to make him first."
"You buy all that?" Chaingang asks him.
"Well, you know," Cory replies, "I once asked my uncle that same thing and he said it didn't matter what he believed. What mattered was what I believe."
"So what do you believe?" Elzie asks.
"That instead of that every-man-for-himself mentality dividing the world up into smaller and smaller pieces, we should come together to protect and share what we still have."
Chaingang frowns. "Are you a communist?"
"Communists think the state owns everything. I'm saying no ownership. We're here to take care of each other."
"But we don't," I say.
"No," Cory says. "We don't."
Just then Barry pulls up in his old Honda. It's only been twelve minutes since he hung up. I know the exact time because I've glanced at my watch a hundred times in the interim. He bounces out of his car and hurries over to us, laptop under his arm.
"Hey, Marina!" he calls. "So are you part of ..."
His voice trails off as it registers that we're a larger group than he expected. His eyes go wide when Chaingang looks up at him.
"What does he know?" Chaingang asks.
Oh crap. Chaingang wasn't here when I suggested we should use discretion around Barry. Desmond and I exchange worried looks.
"Um, that we're trying to rescue Josh?" I say.
Barry holds up his free hand in a peace sign.
"Look, man," he says. "You know me. Didn't I fix your little brother's Game Boy last week? But you don't want me here, I'm gone."
Chaingang shakes his head. "My bad. I'm feeling a little edgy today. Show us what you got."
"Sure," Barry says.
But he's still glancing around, taking in Auntie Min and Tomás and Cory, and I can tell he's more than a little freaked out. I stand up and take his arm.
"Chill," I tell him. "We're all here for the same reason."
He nods. "Right, right."
But his gaze keeps flicking from face to face, then quickly looking away.
"Let's see those plans," I say. "Sit here. I'll go around behind you."
"Right."
He takes my seat and puts his laptop on his thighs, fingers fumbling as he tries to get it open. Chaingang lays a meaty hand on his shoulder.
"Do you know why I'm here?" he asks, his voice mild.
Barry shakes his head. "It's cool. I don't need to know anything."
"I'm here because I told Josh I'd have his back. I give you props for coming out here to help us, so now I'm telling you the same thing. Anybody messes with you, give me a call. We'll have Ocean Avers all over their ass."
"R-really?"
"Really, bro."
Desmond gives me a significant look, but I just roll my eyes.
"So let's see what you found for us," Chaingang says.
Barry nods. He opens his laptop. Desmond, Elzie and Cory get up and join me behind the bench to look over Barry's shoulder. At first, it's just a mess of complicated blue lines, but then he changes the view and I understand what we're looking at. There's ValentiCorp in the middle, surrounded by parking lots and box stores.
"Here's where it gets interesting," he says.
He makes an adjustment and now the image is in 3-D.
"What the hell is that?" Chaingang says, leaning in closer.
He points to this big angular diagram under the parking lots.
Barry seems uneasy about Chaingang leaning over him. "It's … it's a huge service area, ju
"Disneyland," Desmond finishes for him.
Chaingang frowns. "Who builds something like that in earthquake country?"
Barry looks toward the ValentiCorp tower.
"The same people who built that," he says.
"Point taken."
Chaingang moves his finger above the screen, tracing out what looks like one of a series of big corridors running all the way from ValentiCorp to a bunch of the box stores. It's as though the building is in the center of a spider web.
"Are these what I think they are?" he asks.
Barry nods. "Access tunnels. Big enough to drive a truck through." He points to a large building on the east side of the lot. "See the service bay on that side of Pep Boys?" His finger touches the laptop's screen. "I bet that's an entrance to this tunnel."
"That's not part of Pep Boys' automotive bays?"
"Nope," Barry says. "Those are on the other side. ValentiCorp just rents them one part of the building. Makes a perfect cover for their own entrance at the other end."
Chaingang nods. "So it would be the same for all the rest of these corridors we see."
Barry nods. He points at the screen again, finger hovering over one side of ValentiCorp.
"Here's where they have their own above-ground delivery bays," he says. "I'll bet they use the others outside of business hours—when they don't want anyone to see certain shipments."
"I don't get it," Elzie says. "What kind of shipments? What are they even doing in there?"
"I have no idea. Research and development—whatever that means. It could be anything. They've got a public website, but it focuses on stuff related to this retail complex. There are vague references to government research contracts, but no specifics. I heard they do contracts for the military, but I don't know what."
"Can you do anything about their security system?" Chaingang asks.
"Maybe. I've been running a protocol to get through their firewall ever since I got off the phone with Desmond, but they've got some serious encryptions and I haven't been able to get in yet. Makes sense, if they've got military contracts."
"I thought you said you tried to get into their site before," Desmond says.