Jack and the Beanstalk [SF YA]

CHAPTER TWO - Breaking Bones for Baking Bread - Part II

Years of anger and frustration carried me. I rushed him, pushing the man-mountain backward, knocking down chairs and tables. Dodgson backpedaled, trying to stay on his feet and get a hold on me. We scrambled over a chair and went down. Dodgson skittered like a crab, backwards on his hands and buttocks as I chased on my hands and knees. I caught him, grabbed his collar and dragged him to his feet, surprised at my strength.

"I quit!" I spit out the syllables, spun round and strode towards the door.

Dodgson's growl faded and the factory fell silent.

The back of my neck burned; I turned. Dodgson moved again, charging like a red-enraged bull, faster than one would expect possible for a man of his bulk. I sidestepped, but Dodgson caught my shoulder. The hit knocked both of us off balance. As I fell I saw him crash into a table and go down hard. I hit the floor rolling to face him, ready for anything. He sat on the floor, a dazed look on his face. A sewing machine teetered on the edge of the table above him. It began a fall that seemed to defy the law of gravity. My eyes locked with Dodgson's. The industrial machine dropped, still slowly, straight for Dodgson's skull. I wanted to scream, to warn him, but no sound escaped my lips. The apparatus struck with a sickening crunch, flattening Dodgson, then falling off to the side, with a broken crunch. A path of blood lay across his bare head along with a shocking white that could only be his broken skull. The clarity of my vision swam into a hazy sea of colors and smells, choking me as if underwater.

"Jack!" Kate called desperately.

Her voice pulled me out of my stupor and back to the clinging reality of the factory. I stumbled to my feet and shambled toward the door. Kate grabbed my arm.

"Are you all right?" her voice rang with concern. "I heard the crash."

"I must go."

"No, you run and they'll catch you. Where could you go?"

"I've got a record. This is all they need to put me in hard labor." Detached I wondered why I felt no remorse. Dodgson had given me a job when no one else would. He'd treated me like his own son. Of course, his own son had left the country and never returned.

The door on the far wall slammed open and two security personnel emerged. The guards scared me out of my reverie and made my decision for me. With a last glance at Kate, I raced through her office and out of the compound. I lost no time making my way to the speedwalk and hopping on the slow moving outer edge.

I had no idea if they would chase me, but they wouldn't be able to catch me on the fast lanes of the speedwalk, as I knew no one who could match my speed. Too poor to ever afford cab fare I had learned to rely on the speedwalks. I got very good at transferring from track to track, changing speeds to pass people who let the walk do the work.

Glancing quickly back I jumped onto the fast track, spinning to compensate for the change in speed and direction. The two guards leaped onto the walk. Ducking, running and jumping, I maneuvered around the slower pedestrians. I heard screams of fear and anger as my pursuers knocked people down. I turned to see one guard go down in a pile of packages. The other hesitated. I continued on at breakneck speed, ignoring the angry shouts. As the noises behind me quieted, I slowed to a walk and tried to look inconspicuous. Jumping off the speedwalk I cut quickly across Trafalgar Square, scattering squalling pigeons as I passed. More sedate pedestrians glared at the disturbance. Returning to another speedwalk on the far side of the square, I transferred to the fast lane and continued moving, albeit at a slightly more relaxed pace.

Where do I go? It finally hit me as I switched tracks on the speedwalk. When I was young Jill had said if ever you're in trouble, and I had been in trouble regularly since my arrival in England, call me. We'd worked out a code--a specific nursery rhyme detailed where and when we would meet. I hadn't used it in years, but I was certain that Jill would still be there for me.

I glanced right at the clear lanes, began timing my jump, then decided against it. There'd been enough visibility, I'd get off the speedwalk like any normal human being. I stepped carefully from lane to lane, stopping on each to adjust to the change in speed. Timing my exit carefully, I disembarked from the walk two meters away from a sound-only callbooth. This area of town was not a safe enough place to install a visaphone. Upkeep remained too high.

As luck would have it, the booth stood empty and open. I slid into the seat, dropped in a token, punched in Jill's personal code and waited. The code I entered put the message on a scrambled delay, Jill would know immediately that I'd called, but the message would not unscramble unless she used the appropriate code. As the phone beeped to begin the message, I had second thoughts. I could get Jill and Mike involved in this. But it was my problem, all of my own doing. They didn't need the headache. They'd saved my skin enough. Or I could hide out in the Underground until it had quieted down. The machine beeped a second time, as impatient as a machine can get. I need help, I decided.

"To market, to market to buy a fat pig, home again, home again, jiggety jig." I hit the send key before I had time to change my mind. The code told Jill to meet me at the Old Market end of the Underground run. It might take Jill a bit of cash to get into the underworld, but it was safe as far as police were concerned.

The bobbies had long ago given up trying to patrol it; instead they'd simply sealed it off to the city streets. Eventually the Underground became the underground and the constabulary stayed out. A hierarchy of criminals established their rule. The trains still ran, but with less and less regularity. Power had to be siphoned off of somewhere else in the city. The governing body found themselves a computer man to break into the system and divert power to any one of the hundred thousand power couplings in the underground. But siphoning off the power had to occur rarely enough to not make it worthwhile to shut down the power grid.

I headed towards Brian's place--the legal entrance to his "reputable establishment." He let me in with a jovial smile that slipped from his face as he saw the look in my eyes.

"What's going on, Jax? Tell me what's wrong."

"Not here."

He stepped to the wall and pushed on what must've been twelve seemingly random books. The case swung open, revealing the elevator I'd ridden in earlier.

Once firmly ensconced in a chair in his other office, I let it spill. Brian spent the last few minutes of my tale staring off into space. I wondered if he'd even heard my words.

At the end he looked up. "So these are your options. Turn yourself in, go into hiding here. There may be a third choice, getting you out of the country, but I've got to do some checking. Relax here, okay? I'm going to go try to connect with a friend. Father Time, actually."

I manage a fair imitation of a smile. "You really do have friends in high places."

"It's a code name. Have a Guinness or something, while I see what I can do."

I thought about the "or something." I could use it and I knew he had some stronger medicine in the cabinet, but at the moment my busy mind had too much to think about. I'd probably killed a man. I had very few choices left.