THREE ONELINES.

JOEL. I’M getting my aunt to send this. She’s cool. You’d like her.

Can’t communicate. Not with you, not with anyone. Don’t call. Don’t oneline. Don’t message.

Then,

Joel, the drones asked me about you.

All of the stories people told about drones involved people either dying or disappearing. Drones came to this or that village or fringe settlement. They took people away. The people were never seen or heard of again.

It was always a story somebody got from somebody else. Somebody’s cousin or a friend of a friend knew somebody. As far as he could remember, Joel never heard anyone say it happened to anyone in their family or even to anyone they actually knew.

Mostly what people said about USSecur drones were just scary stories, like things in the woods and outside the fringes, or survivor city horrors. Tales people told late at night to scare themselves and each other. Like stories of the Gabriel.

But, damn. Honey. Whatever happened in class all day, Joel was there in body only. He did what he was told and what he had to do, but it was all on auto-pilot.

Middle break was only forty five minutes. Not enough time for him to board up to Honey’s home and back. Over the lunch table, Ty Bannon said, “You know who they’re here for?”

Kier shrugged, “Does anybody have any idea?”

Ty’s eyes gleamed, “It’s bound to be for someone. They’re going to take someone.“

Someone shouted, “Alive or salvage.”

Another voice called out, “Blood for the Gabriel.”

Joel shook his head and muttered, “G T F O”

Ty put on a mock shocked face, “Really. He’s an actual vampire.”

Joel sniffed. “He’s an actual fictional character. He’s a myth.”

Kier waved his finger, “No, Ty’s right, I heard about it from someone who knows. He recruited athletes in high-altitude locations. They have to run for an hour and then give blood.”

Joel was impatient. His head shook, pityingly, “Oh, you really are fucking mad. You really believe that?”

Ty nodded, “No, I read about it, too. The blood gets super-oxygenated or something.”

Someone behind Ty sniggered, “Look at Joely. He all pale!” and all his little clique started.

“Drones come for Joely’s sweetheart?” Kier Mald called out. Joel couldn’t have cared less what they said, although the unexpected thought flashed into his mind that starting a fight could have been a useful distraction. It would wind up with him taking a beating but it could still be worth it.

“Aww,” Ty Bannon said, “Honey gone to salvage.”

“That isn’t nice, Ty.” Joel told him evenly.

Kier said, “We’re only kidding around with you.” And they all snorted.

Joel held his eye as he stood to take back his lunch tray. “Yeah. Funny.”

~~

Joel got through the afternoon biting his tongue, sitting on his hands, and being convinced that all of the clocks were running slow or had stopped. Whatever teachbot told them about the time of the Reset or the marvels of the juice economy all drifted by him like a cool breeze. He was called on for participation a few times and he said things. He had no idea afterward what they were. Probably not even at the time.

The moment the buzzer started he was on his feet with his pack over his shoulder and his board under his arm, headed for the door. As he headed out for Honey’s home he contacted his mom.

He would have onelined, but that would have slowed him down so he called, “Hey, Mom. I’m just going to head over to Honey’s real quick.”

“No, Joel. I need you home right away.”

“Mom, I…”

“You hear me?”

“It will only take me a few minutes, I promise. Then I’ll come straight back.”

“Joel, I need you here.”

“Please, Mom.” He had to stop and wait for her answer. Joel had never once flat-out defied his mom. Not yet. He hoped that this wouldn’t be the first time.

“You come straight back here afterwards, Joel. You understand?”

“Yes, Mom.” He pushed the board off as fast as it would go. He knew he was going to have to truck some of the way. The uphill parts, he would be faster wheels down.

The last stretch was a wide, fast curve on a downward incline. Honey’s home was an old bus on top of a pile of sheds and cabins. Joel’s heart raced as he rode nearer and saw Honey out on the deck. Her eyes widened as she moved to stand, looking nonchalantly up and away. She rose and lifted her hands flat, wiping them apart like smoothing a table cover. At the same time her head shook, slowly.

He slowed, puzzled. He dropped down his visor to zoom to her face. Her cheeks were red and wet. Something bad was happening. She raised her hands, with her palms toward him. Her eyes screwed shut and when she blinked them open, tears ran. How could he leave her like this?

She moved and he lost her from the screen. When he zoomed out for a wider view, Joel saw that she was not alone. A short black bot trundled on the deck after her. It looked like she was being questioned. Joel tried to think of options. Some scenario somehow where he got to rescue the girl and run away with her. The two of them, riding, heroic, into the sunset on his air board.

Maybe if he could draw them away. Do something, anything to get them after him. She could maybe run. Whatever, he could give her a chance. In the shadows he made out the shape of an armored USSecur transport, parked by the metal steps leading up to her home. Four drones buzzed up, out of the transport.

A small drone, black like a shiny beetle, buzzed toward him. Honey’s eyes widened. This didn’t look much like a chance, but it was all that he’d got. He pulled out a spinner bomb. It was only a little firecracker, nothing lethal. Maybe he could get it to do some damage, though.

giving it all the spin he could, he flung the little bladed firework. it spun in in an arc, over the top of Honey’s deck. It stuck in the side of the bot. The bot spun and wheeled toward the side of the deck. Honey ducked inside.

From where he was he could hardly hear the crack of the explosion. It was enough to open the side of the bot, though. Sparks jumped through the smoke that mushroomed out. The wrecked bot leaned over and was still.

Turning back Joel set the wheel trucks down for the uphill run. He made a fast start back up he slope. Immediately he heard the buzz. He didn’t make it to the turn before the four drones caught up with him and surrounded him.

One of the drones hovered in front of his face. After a moment it descended to his hand and shot out a needle. DNA sampling. It rose back up, level with his face.

The smooth mechanical voice said, “Joel Tristan. You are required to accompany USSecure mission X-C-22-505-1101-1010-1000-1101. Please extend your arms and prepare yourself for voluntary detention.” He heard the engine of the transporter starting up behind him.

He batted the two drones in front, getting his hand nicked by the spinning blades. He ducked and scooted the board as hard as he could. The top of the slope wasn’t far. If he could make it there, he could be over the ridge, trucks up and boarding downhill fast over rough country.

Pushing hard, he raced for the ledge. He’d thought about maneuvers like this a thousand times. Practiced in virtu.

Going over the ledge, the drop beneath him looked impossibly far. The trucks came up. Wind buffeted him as he hurtled straight down toward steep piles of broken, jagged rock. He wound the Airglide up to maximum force, as far as it would go.

At the first pile of rocks the board slammed and twisted hard. He thought it would crack in two. But it cushioned him down. Swinging his hips, he slewed and slalomed, bumping and hurtling. The drones couldn’t keep track, but they were never far away. Only three of them, though, he noticed with satisfaction.

About halfway down the slope was a bare pine woods. If he’d had a readout now, he would have seen that he entered the woods at eighty-four point six mph. One of the drones smacked into a trunk and burst into a shower of splinters.

Dodging trunks and boulders, he took the steepest possible path. A drone shot in front of him and locked itself about ten feet ahead, using his head and shoulders as a follow target. He steered right toward a thick, graying tree trunk. When he ducked and lurched at the last moment to avoid it, the drone mirrored his movement. He swerved again but stayed low. The drone smashed into a rock and Joel had to shield his face from the flying debris.

The bottom of the woods led to a fast-flowing stream. Joel stopped the board a foot above the middle of the stream.

The last drone caught him up. He was ready. Joel snatched it by its body. He dragged it under the water on its back.

The blades were still moving. It seemed undamaged. He stood on the drone as he hefted a rock and put it on the belly of the drone. It could spin its rotors and make bubbles but it wasn’t going anywhere.

Joel crouched and boarded quietly over the stream until he came near the road back into town. If the only reason USSecur came after him was because he was at Honey’s place, that may be the end of it. But that would mean that their target was probably Honey. It felt bad to leave her. He boarded onto the road and took it straight back toward the village.

At the next junction the USSecur armored carrier was waiting. The bot that lowered out of the back was teachbot. He recognized the smear of uncertain foodstuff that had been on the side from more than a week. When it addressed him, it didn’t use a firm but friendly tone. It was plain, mechanical and direct. And he didn’t call it ‘Miss.’