Chapter two (1)
Last Day
Doyle threw the terrified girl forward and ran.
The tangler net went around the screaming girl and held her tightly.
Logan was tired but the little man didn't stop talking. "You know what it's like," he said. "Nobody does everything that they want to do in their life. All the traveling, all the girls... I'm the same. I'd like to live to twenty-five, thirty... but it isn't going to happen. I can accept that. I've lived a good life. I've had good times. I'm not afraid. After I'm gone, nobody will say that Sawyer was afraid! " He talked and talked.
Logan knew why. If he talked, he didn't have to think. Logan saw this all the time. Everyone talked a lot on Last Day.
Sawyer looked at his palm.
The flower was red, then black, then red again. Logan could see the worry in his eyes.
"Do you believe the Thinker ever makes mistakes? " Sawyer asked Logan. "It doesn't feel like I'm twenty-one. It really doesn't. I remember the day when I became fourteen. How long ago was it when my flower changed? I'm sure it wasn't more than five years ago. " Logan wasn't listening. He was thinking about his fourteenth birthday.
"No," said Sawyer, not waiting for Logan to answer. "I'm sure that the Thinker doesn't make mistakes. " He was silent for a minute.
Then, in a quiet voice, he said, "I guess I'm afraid. " "Most people are," said Logan. "Well, maybe I am afraid but I'm not going to run. No! The Thinker is right. We have to keep the number of people down. I won't run! " The two men sat quietly while the car traveled through the Maze.
Finally, Sawyer spoke again.
"Do you think the homer is really so terrible? "Yes," said Logan. "I believe it is. " "People say that it feels your body heat. That's how it finds you. Then it burns you! It completely destroys your body - in seconds! " Logan didn't speak. Sawyer's face was gray. A muscle moved near his mouth.
"God," he said, looking down at the floor. Then the color returned to his face.
"Of course, it's necessary. Runners have to be punished. They don't have to run, do they? A Sleepshop isn't so bad, is it? I saw one when I was twelve. In Paris. It was clean and nice. " Logan thought of the Sleepshops with their brightly painted rooms and restful music.
The assistants wore warm colors and spoke softly. And then, of course, there was the drug, Hallucinogen. When people took this, their worries left them. Their faces showed only happiness. They moved slowly, as in a dream. Logan thought of the dark rooms downstairs with metal shelves. On those shelves were hundreds of boxes with the names and numbers of men and women on them.
"No," he said. "They're not bad. " Sawyer was talking again.
"But I could never do what those Sandmen have to do. I'm not saying that runners are right! They're criminals! But how can a Sandman use a homer on a man? How can he do that? " "I get off here," said Logan. He left the car.
Logan didn't live in this area. He had a long walk now but Sawyer was making him angry. He knew this part of the city. He remembered killing a man here. He put the memory out of his mind and continued walking, through the crowds of people. People in a hurry, with empty eyes, going nowhere. A young man was sitting on the ground with a sign around his neck. The sign said RUN! He was trying to give out pieces of paper but people only shouted at him.
"Dirty Runner! "Trash! "You're sick! The man sat and smiled.
Logan took one of the papers and read it: DO NOT ACCEPT SLEEP!
RUN! MEN SHOULD LIVE THEIR FULL LIVES! DON'T ACCEPT DEATH AT TWENTY-ONE! A police paravane landed silently near the man.
Logan watched two policemen in yellow coats walk toward him. He didn't run. The police took him away and the paravane lifted into the evening sky.
A woman was standing next to Logan.
"Thank God for the police," she said. "Those people are crazy! It's terrifying! " The sky was dark now and the evening stars were shining.
Logan stopped to watch that evening's Maze News report. A man's face lit up a huge screen on the front of the Maze News building. "Good evening," he said to the crowds "Fourteen people were killed today during a Gypsy gang war in Stafford Heights. Police caught four of the Gypsies and are looking for the others. They will find them. The man looked very serious, and was silent for a minute. Then he continued.
"The runner Harry 7 was caught by police earlier today in the Trancas area. He was sent to Hell. His friends were invited to say goodbye but nobody came. What does that show us? It shows us that we are good people, law-loving people. There is no place for runners in our world! And we must...
Logan stopped listening and moved away.
A girl walked toward him.
"You aren't happy," she said, putting her hand on his arm. He moved away from her and continued walking.
"I can make you happy! " she called after him. Happy Logan thought about the word.
She was right, of course. He was unhappy. Words came into his mind: You can't buy happiness. But, of course, in this world you could.
He turned down a side street and started walking toward Roeburt.
The drug palace in Roeburt was the city's largest, with the best drugs. The friendly, white-coated assistants knew how to give you a great time. They helped you forget.
"LF please," Logan said. "How much would you like? " asked the assistant, a young man. "The usual," he answered. The man took him to a Blueroom.
It was empty except for a large armchair and a small table. Logan sat in the chair and took the drug.
"Have a good lift," the man said as he left. Logan closed his eyes for a minute so the drug could work.
When he opened them, the room was filled with a terrible light. It was a bad lift.
He was falling, falling from a window.
A man caught him.
"You were running. That's OK," said the man. "No. I wasn't! I wasn't running! I fell! I fell from a window," Logan shouted. Suddenly there was fire all around him.
He ran through the fire. Voices were everywhere, calling "Black flower! Black flower! ". Where was his gun?
He needed, his gun. The man caught him again.
"Running again? " he smiled. But now Logan had the gun. Nothing could hurt him. The homer hit the man and the world exploded.
When he left the Blueroom, the assistant smiled at him.
"You were really lifted. Would you like another one? " "No, thanks. Logan didn't feel better. He left the drug palace and walked toward the colored lights on the Glasshouse. The words shone out at him.
HAPPINESS!
DREAM GIRLS!
"Your happiness makes us happy, sir," an assistant said, unsmiling. Logan could see the bodies moving inside each room.
The floors and walls were made of glass. Different rooms lit up at different times to show the enjoyment of the men and women inside them.
Logan took a girl into one of the rooms.
"Lie down," she said, and came onto the glass bed with him. He felt the eyes all around them, watching them.
Hours passed.
When morning came, Logan got up silently.
He left the girl and went back home, to his room. It was time for work. No time to sleep. His muscles hurt. His eyes were red. He took a shower but it didn't help. He got dressed, put on his long, black Sandman coat, and left for work.
Francis was waiting for him when he arrived.
He smiled at Logan.
"You look terrible," he said. "Bad night? " Francis never looked bad.
No lifts or Glasshouses for him. Never before a job. Francis was clear-headed and calm. Why couldn't Logan be like that? Very few Sandmen had Francis's skill and intelligence. He wasn't like other men. He had no real friends. No one knew about any lovers. He had a long, thin body and the black eyes of a wild cat. He was a smooth, silent killer. And what does he think of me? Logan often asked himself. He always smiling and friendly but judging every move.
They walked toward the Gun Room together.
Logan was nervous. His hands were wet. He needed his gun. He was always fine with a gun in his hand, chasing a runner somewhere in the city. He felt good when he was doing his job.
The two men came to a high metal door.
"Names? " asked a computerized voice. Each man put the palm of his hand on the door.
It opened and they went into the Gun Room. Only a Sandman could carry a gun and no other person could use it. It was too dangerous. Logan checked that his gun was ready: tangler, ripper, needier, nitro, vapor - and homer. All good. He held the gun and felt strong again.
Francis and Logan then walked to the Report Room.
A nervous-looking assistant hurried toward them.
"We've had a lot of problems today. I can't find Webster 16 and we've got a runner in Pavilion, moving east. " "Who's going to take him? " asked Logan. "You are," said the assistant. "Francis will help if you need him. " "All right," said Logan. "Give me the information. " "Name: Doyle 10-14302. His flower blacked at five thirty-nine. That's eighteen minutes ago. He's moving east but he's not going near the Maze. I think he knows about the cameras there. He's moving toward Arcade. Be careful. He's probably dangerous. " Logan pressed the numbers 10-14302 into a computer and the information on Doyle came up on the screen: photo, height, age, names of friends.
Logan read Doyle's flower history: YELLOW: 0-7 years. Parented by a machine in a Missouri Nursery. BLUE: 7-14» The usual. Lived in lots of different state traveled around Europe. No criminal activities, RED: 14-21. Difficult. Problems with police. Attacked a Sandman. Three girlfriends. One of them tried to help runners. A sister, Jessica 6: no problems with police.
Logan studied Doyle's photo. He was a big man, as tall as Logan, dark hair, a strong face. An easy face to remember. Easy to find in a crowd. He took the small black follower from his belt and pressed in Doyle's numbers. Then he returned to Francis.
Francis was standing in front of a large screen, watching a moving red light - Doyle.
"He's not our usual kind of runner,'' Said Francis. "I've watched him. He knows exactly where he's going. He has information and he's not making any mistakes. Call me if you need help. " The chase began.
Logan got off the walkway at the main station and saw Doyle getting out of a car. Doyle saw Logan's black coat and ran into the crowds. He was still moving east - toward Arcade. Logan tried to follow him but Doyle caught another car. Good, thought Logan. He'll run. He'll get tired. He watched him on the follower.
The assistant was right. Doyle knew about the cameras in the Maze. He was staying above ground and still trying to get to Arcade. Logan showed himself in the crowds. He wanted Doyle to see his black coat. He wanted to scare him. But Doyle knew what he was doing. He continued moving. He stayed in the crowds.
The guy's smart, thought Logan. He watched Doyle on his follower. He was very near - coming down in an elevator. Logan moved fast. As the elevator doors opened, Logan lifted his gun. Doyle started to get out and saw him. His face turned white. He couldn't escape the homer.
