Alias

Joel

 “Joel! Get up now!”

        “Not unless you say it nicely.”

        “Joel, wake up this instant.”

        “Close enough.”

        I sit up on my blanket and look at my older brother Ben. I give him a smirk and say, “Geez, you okay?” He grunts and packs up our stuff and tosses me a roll. I catch it eagerly and ask, “Is this real bread?” Ben nods and I bite into it. “How much did this cost?” I mumble. He looks at me and says, “Couple tokens. Baker man was feelin’ nice today.” That doesn’t surprise me. We often slip the Baker man a couple extra tips on what the government plans for small businesses like his. He sometimes gives us a little extra food if his wife isn’t around. She hates us. She calls us low-life street scum. Richies. There’s just something about them that’s just…irritating. And by something I mean everything, even in Caim. We’re, like, right in the middle of poor and rich. Fifth from the center and the Richies still love to bother us. They’re everywhere, just to annoy the poor. “Well, Joel, we’d better get goin’ if we’re gonna get to the market we better go now. Get your lazy little bum up and let’s be on our way, short stuff,” Ben says. He smiles at my displeasure at that name. I am pretty short, but I don’t like it being pointed out. “Whatever. Let’s just get going.” I pick up my pack and we leave our campgrounds. We head towards the marketplace in south Caim. I do what I do best and bargain my way down to get food cheaper. Then I see a new warning on the billboard.

BREAKING NEWS! CRIMINAL MASTERMIND TARRON STEALS FOUR THOUSAND DOLLARS FROM LOCAL KANE BANK. INFORMATION ON HER LOCATION WILL BE REWARDED FOUR THOUSAND BILLS AND FOOD RATIONS FOR A MONTH. 10 FOR EACH MEMBER OF THE FAMILY.

        I look over at Ben and he smiles. We both are very impressed by that Tarron girl. She seems to get by with everything. She inspires us. We don’t think of her as a criminal. We know there’s got to be some reason for her to do all of this. There’s always a reason for us. Ben elbows me in the side so hard I fall over. “Dude, get up! We just figured out where that Tarron person is! We gotta go find her!” I stand up and look at the sign. He’s right. Kane, the sector just south of us. I pick up my pack and bolt to the train station. Ben and I arrive in a matter of minutes. “Two tickets to Kane, please,” I tell the conductor. He nods and I give him twenty bills. Quite a bit, but worth every token. We jump on the train and take a seat. “You think we’ll find her?” Ben asks excitedly. I smile and say, “Well, no policeman’s ever found her, but that’s because they’ve never lived on the streets. They don’t know where someone who has would hide. We do.” He’s practically bouncing up and down by the time we set off. I sleep through most of the two hour ride, dreaming of what she’ll look like. I think she’s around twenty, brown hair, blue eyes. Five foot seven. Agile and robust.

        We arrive in Kane in the late afternoon. Ben practically leaps off the train while I stumble out. “Where do we check first?” Ben asks. “Well,” I say, “Last she robbed Kane’s bank. She’s smart enough to go a good distance away, but she must be near it. Most of her crimes are in that area, so I think she lives there. Let’s go around there.” He nods vigorously and we run off. We check every alley, every abandoned building, every street, but still can’t find her. Then I see a peculiar looking dumpster. I can tell by the patterns in the rust that it’s been broken before. Recently, too. I signal to Ben, but he isn’t behind me anymore. “Ben?” I whisper. “Ben?” I turn the corner and almost faint. There lies Ben, a knife in his chest. A policeman stands over him when he sees me. I turn around and bolt. I scale a building, but the officer is on my heels. I slip on a ledge and fall to the ground, landing on my knee. I cringe at the pain and see the officer running up. I close my eyes, realizing that this is the end. Next thing I know, I’m being flung through a door and shoved into a wall. I know it isn’t the officer: I’d be dead if it was. I feel someone’s hands on my shoulders, holding me against the wall. “What the—” I start. “Shh!” someone whispers harshly. I shut my mouth and stand still. After about a minute, a light flickers on. In front of me stands a girl. Five foot three, short black hair, freckles. About sixteen. She stares at me bitterly. “Are you crazy? You almost got yourself killed!” I look down. “He killed my brother. I just turned the corner and saw him. Then he started chasing me down. Guess he saw that I recognized him.” I know she’d never admit it but she smiled a bit. Just a bit. A sad, empathetic smile that left as quickly as it came. “Well, you better not pull anymore stunts like that. Got your knee pretty banged up there. Need a place to stay? I’ll fix it up,” she says. I feel the sharp pain in my knee and nod. We go upstairs of the building we’re in and she patches up my knee. Then she lies down and falls asleep.