Just as the black train sped across the California border, Darsie found Jalen in the adjoining car practicing Street Fighter.
“May I come in?” he asked, gently tapping the threshold.
“Sure,” Jalen said. “Wanna play?”
The two had taken breaks on the long train ride from Vegas, playing Street Fighter but also dabbling in Call of Duty and even Fortnite. Wyatt had made it clear that after his encounter with the Glowworm, he didn’t want a thing to do with gaming for the rest of his life, but Darsie was a skilled, compassionate gamer. He’d even taught Jalen about a little game of his own—chess.
“No,” Darsie said, flipping his wrist to look at his beaming gold watch. “Don’t have time at the moment.” He sat down on the berth across from Jalen.
“Well, what’s up?” Jalen said, eyes still on the screen as he toggled the joystick.
“It seems that word has gotten out that you and Wyatt are heading to San Francisco.”
Across the train car, Wyatt bristled, and Jalen immediately hit pause.
“I didn’t say anything. I didn’t tell anyone,” Jalen said.
“I know. I wasn’t suggesting that, but it appears someone else knows where we’re headed. And, well … I don’t think you’re going to like this.”
“I’m not going back to Valor,” Wyatt piped in.
“Oh, there’s no going back to Valor—ever—for either of you. That ship has sailed.” His words dropped like a stone on Jalen’s soul. In a flash, he saw the green canopy of trees, the misty lake, the warmth of the campfire.
“So what’s going on?” Wyatt said. “Out with it.”
“You’re going to have an extra chaperone in San Francisco.”
“Who?”
“Your aunt—I believe her name is Narcy.”
“Narcy? What do you mean?” Wyatt panicked.
“She’ll be part of your cover. It’s a little more believable that you two would be in San Francisco with a mother figure watching over you.”
“Oh my god, I don’t like this.” Jalen shook his head and looked at Wyatt, who was utterly dumbfounded.
“I’m kidding,” Darsie said after a moment. “Can’t you guys take a joke?”
“Didn’t really know you were the joking type, Darsie.” Wyatt dropped back down in literal relief.
“From time to time.” Darsie clicked his teeth. “But I will say, if that ole hominid aunt of yours doesn’t stop making phone calls to your brother, she might have to become part of the plan.”
“God help us,” Jalen whispered.
“But luckily—and thanks to the good SecDef Elaine Becker—right now being at Valor is about like being exiled on the Isle of Patmos.”
Jalen raised his eyebrows.
“You know, the island—”
“I know. In the Aegean Sea.” Jalen rolled his eyes and returned to his game. “I took a history class.”
“Well, hope you also took geography,” Darsie said. “I’m dropping you two off outside San Diego.”
“And where will you be?” Wyatt asked.
“Hawthorne, California. There’s a rocket factory I’m thinking about purchasing, if you must know. You two can’t arrive in the state with me, so you’ll take a plane to San Francisco.”
“That seems … complicated,” Jalen said.
“It makes about as much sense as riding a Jet Ski to catch a train in the middle of the woods.” Wyatt smirked.
“Misdirection. Never underestimate it,” Darsie quipped. “Now, Jalen, you were on your own at the tournament, but here’s where Wyatt will come in.”
Jalen nodded.
“If Hi Kyto is ever to see Wyatt, the story is that he is your half brother.” Darsie pointed at Wyatt, who was slouched in his T-shirt and camp shorts, looking something like a grungy Patagonia ad. “Your father was a traveling athlete. He had a little dalliance with a British woman a couple of years before you were born, and here we are—your older half brother, Wyatt.”
“You don’t think I’m too white?” Wyatt raised his eyebrows.
“It’s believable. From the image I found on Google, Ronnie Rose is fairly light skinned. And now that it’s summer, you’re somewhat tan…”
Wyatt huffed in exasperation.
“You’re the one who chose to bring Jalen into this. Not me. But come to think of it, it might work out better than planned.” Darsie circled Jalen, his eyes narrowing. “Jalen and Hi Kyto will have the organic bond of gaming.”
Jalen shifted as Darsie took another lap around him, assessing.
“My guess is Hi Kyto will think he’s handsome enough. And … he seems to have the kind of softness she’ll find endearing.”
“Softness?” Jalen bowed up.
“Yeah. Kinda reminds me of those little Asian kitty cat stickers she puts on her backpack.” He laughed. “Anyway, Wyatt, keep your distance. You’re here to support Jalen and keep him safe.”
“Think I know how to run my own mission, thanks,” Wyatt said.
“There’ll be a blue Ford truck waiting for you outside of the apartment where you’ll be staying. And you’ll need this.” He handed Wyatt an envelope, and Wyatt pulled out several hundred dollars of petty cash and a shiny plastic card.
“A driver’s license?” Wyatt said. “I’ve been driving for years.”
“Yes, but now you’re official. Cops in the city are ruthless. Get pulled over and even I can’t get you out of it.”
It was sometime just after dusk when Darsie, ever preoccupied with secrecy, dropped the boys off outside Yuma, Arizona, where a car was waiting to take them to a ritzy hotel in downtown San Diego.
A few hours later and still in camp duds, Wyatt and Jalen wandered into the lavish lobby of a four-star hotel in the Gaslamp Quarter, a fire roaring in the ornate stone fireplace.
“’Bout time.” Jalen smiled at Wyatt as they walked across the marble floor toward the elevator. “This is the kind of treatment I’ve been expecting from Mr. Paycard himself.”
“Yeah, well, we need to try not to stand out so much.” Wyatt checked the exits and doors in full mission mode. “Take a different elevator than me and go straight to the room.”
“So much for the hotel party,” Jalen grunted. “At least we can relax.”
But even after a long, hot shower and a room-service meal of the best chicken tenders Jalen had eaten in his life, he could not relax, and he definitely couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned on the giant bed, trying every pillow, but eventually surrendered and slipped from the hotel room in the predawn hours without waking Wyatt up.
He took Fifth Avenue across the trolley tracks, past the convention center to the Embarcadero, a waterfront attraction area where giant megayachts sat docked at the pier. Wyatt strolled down the sidewalk, smelling salt water mixed with chlorine and ammonia and a hint of what he thought was feces. As the driver said on the drive from Yuma, “They need to literally wash the streets of San Diego … so many bums, pooing and pissing all over the place. It’s not clean. The whole state of California isn’t clean, if you ask me.”
Still, it was comforting to Jalen. He’d been to San Diego once before—his mother had taken him along when she was still playing tennis professionally—and it was one of the few good memories he had in a sea of unhappy ones. Jalen walked along, thinking about Hi Kyto and when he would contact her and what he would say, and what if she really was a murderer. The person who’d made him a murderer and ruined his life. And if there was even this chance, then why did his stomach drop in waves at the very mention of her name?
Jalen returned to the hotel and opened the suite door a crack, the light from the hallway spilling onto Wyatt, who was still breathing heavily in the darkness. Jalen, exhausted, crawled back into bed and finally slept till morning.