Archie turned his back to the security camera and slipped the wrestling magazine into his backpack. He looked around the convenience store, then moved to the next aisle, where he palmed two candy bars. He wandered, stopping in random places, handling merchandise, then went to the drink case and selected his favorite soda, and concealed it with the candy.  He ambled back to the candy aisle and picked up a pack of gum.

He circled back to the magazine rack and thumbed through another magazine, about home decoration. He looked over his thick glasses to watch the door.  Finally, someone suitable entered.

The stylishly dressed young woman had exactly what he needed. Every male in the store furtively followed her movements, her long coat opening briefly as she reached for items, showing off her form fitting dress and slim figure. She hurriedly selected her items, and as she headed to the checkout, Archie made his move.

He got to the register before she did, behind one other person. The scent of her perfume told him she stood behind him. The person at the counter finished their transaction and Archie moved up with his items.

“Hey, Archie,” the clerk greeted him.  Archie grunted in reply and placed the gum and the magazine on the counter. The clerk scanned them and waited for Archie to respond. Archie placed his library card on the counter. The clerk sighed and shook his head.

“Archie, that one isn’t going to work. You have a cash card, don’t you? Something else? Where’s your folks?”

Archie grunted again and picked up the library card and put it down again, turning slightly so the young woman could have a better view of the conversation.  The clerk shook his head more emphatically.

“C’mon Archie, we’ve been through this. That won’t work. What else do you have?”

Archie hung his head and pouted, then shook it. He sensed the young woman stepping closer to look over his shoulder.

“Archie, that’s not…”

“Excuse me, how about if I just pay for it? Just those two things?” the woman offered, glancing back and forth between Archie and the clerk. The clerk leaned back, spreading his hands.

“Go ahead, your money.” She put her items down, he scanned them, and she paid. Archie picked up the magazine and the gum and gestured to the woman with a grunt. She raised her eyebrows and cocked her head slightly and looked at the clerk.

“Uh…what did he say?” 

The clerk smirked.

“He doesn’t speak so well. He said ‘thank you’.”

“You are so welcome,” she responded, beaming a warm smile. Archie blushed. He turned and walked out with his items. The woman picked up the plastic bag with her purchases and followed him out. The clerk shook his head with a knowing smile.

Outside, Archie lingered, savoring the lingering plume of her perfume as he watched the woman drive off, then went the opposite way. At the first trash can, he threw away the decorating magazine. He opened the gum and put a piece in his mouth, pocketing the rest. He slung his pack over his shoulder and walked toward the state road.

Every few minutes, he turned around and faced traffic, looking off in the distance. After repeating that a few times, a car finally pulled over. Archie walked to the passenger window. A middle-aged man in a suit and tie leaned over.

“Hey, you okay, friend?” he asked.

“Yeth,” Archie responded and turned away. The man watched him for a moment, then drove off. After a few minutes, a well-dressed young woman pulled over in a new sedan. He instantly saw from her open smile and pretty features she would be suitable.

“Do you need a ride?” she asked with a worried frown.

“Yeth.”

“Well, come on.” The door popped open and Archie got in, buckling up.

“Where are you headed?”

Archie gestured down the road. “Thilver thtar.”

“The Silver Star? The bar?” Her frown changed from concern to confusion.

“Yeth.”

She hesitated, then tapped the console and the car merged back on the road. She glanced at Archie’s jacket emblazoned with lime green and navy blue.

“Seahawks fan, huh?”

“Yeth.”

“How do you think they’re going to do?”

“Thuper Bowl Champth!” Archie responded with enthusiasm, fists clenched, held up in the air.  The woman smiled, disarmed.

“Well, let’s hope so.”

They drove for several miles, then pulled off into the nearly empty gravel parking lot of the Silver Star Bar, set back from the road. The woman looked around as Archie got out without comment. She hesitated, watching him set down on the wooden steps and retrieve his wrestling magazine from his pack. She beeped the horn, two brief toots, and waved before driving away.

Archie sat reading his magazine. A few people came and went from the bar, not giving an overweight man with Down’s syndrome a glance. Finally, a battered pickup truck pulled off the road, squeaking rhythmically, parked next to Archie, and a thin young man with a ragged beard and a dirty baseball cap got out.

“What are you doing here, dumbass?” he called out with a big grin.

Archie stood up, clutching the magazine, and struck his signature wrestling pose, flexing. “Arch Nemethith!” he called out.

“You got a new mag? Is Sheena in it? Jungle Cat?” The young man snatched the magazine from Archie and sat on the stoop. He paged through and stopped at a two-page spread of a muscular, almost naked woman, flexing and glaring.

“Oh, there she is,” he murmured, lingering over the image. Archie watched. The young man looked up.

“Can I have this pic, dude?”

Archie shrugged. “I didn’t thay that.”

The young man ignored him, pulling the picture out of the magazine. “Thanks dude. I owe you.” He handed the magazine back and stood up. “I’ll buy you a soda. Come on in.”

They went inside and Archie went straight to the bar, put his magazine down and hoisted himself onto the stool. The bartender sidled over.

“Hey, Brad. What can I get you two?” he asked, eyeing Archie.

“Coors for me, a coke for him.” Archie ignored the exchange, paging slowly through the magazine. Brad slipped off his jacket.

“Arch, you want to see my new ink? Look at this one.” Brad laid his forearm on the table and traced a finger over an eagle clutching two human skulls, flying over a snarling wolf’s head, a banner of symbols surrounding the animals. “Those are runes. Ain’t that cool? And look at this one.”  He turned the other shoulder and lifted the sleeve of his t-shirt, revealing a muscular demon flexing, huge devil horns and sharp teeth, with the words “Honor” and “Blood” emblazoned above and below. “They finally let me get these. Aren’t they vicious?” he said, grinning.  Archie traced his finger over them, making a low rumble, almost a purr, of approval.

The bartender delivered the drinks, glanced at the tattoos then turned away, shaking his head with a scowl. Brad picked up his beer and took a noisy swig. Archie sipped his coke and perused the magazine while Brad looked over his shoulder.

The bar was nearly empty – a video screen played a basketball game, hard metal rock playing softly over the speaker system. Brad looked up every time someone entered, then back to Archie’s magazine. Finally, his face lit up at the entrance of another young man, bigger, more cleanly dressed, wearing boots and a leather jacket. Similar tattoos were visible above his collar up his neck.

“Hey Silas!” Brad greeted the newcomer, who responded with only a tip of his head, then a nod at Archie.

“What’s he doing here?”

Brad waved dismissively at Archie, flustered. “It’s no big deal. He’s just showing me his wrestling stuff. He’s my buddy from the warehouse. He’s, y’know,…” Brad tapped his head with a knowing look.

Silas remained unconvinced. “Look, I don’t have much time. You still on to make that run?”

Brad nodded enthusiastically. “Most definite. Whatever you need. What’s the load?”

“None of your fucking business. You just show up where you’re told, drive the truck, and drop it off exactly as they say.”

“Did you hear anything about me getting my letters?”

Silas gave him a sharp look. “No, I didn’t. If you followed orders and took care of it, you’ll hear. Quit bitching.”

“Okay, okay. What do you hear about the new firepower? Did our connection come through?”

“What did I just say?” Silas shook his head and scowled, tipping his head at Archie engrossed in his wrestling magazine. Brad laughed.

“He’s not paying attention. What did Walter say about me being on the capture team? Are they going to make a move soon?”

“Shut. The fuck. Up! For fuck’s sake, that is not cool. No one can know that. Not here.”

“Oh, relax. Look around. This place is empty.”

Silas nodded toward Archie again. Brad burst out laughing.

“Look at him! He’s useless. Stop your worrying. Right, Archie?” Brad slapped Archie’s shoulder, jostling his magazine. Archie looked over his thick glasses and grunted a reply.  Brad guffawed, slapping the bar.

“What did he say?” Silas asked, looking back and forth between them.  Brad wiped his eyes and took a deep breath.

“‘Fuck you, Brad.’ He kills me.”

Silas scowled and leaned in, lowering his voice. “I will ask them again. You keep doing these jobs without problems, show you can be trusted, maybe. They are still getting ready at the Compound. The Jerrys and the Mikes are making noise about wanting something bigger when we make the grab. Somebody is stirring the pot. There’s a lot of shit flying around. Leadership is all riled up.” 

Brad nodded, feigning understanding of the complex relationships within the movement, mostly unaware of the rivalries and disputes between the Jericho Front and Sword of Michael militias, as well as all the others. His own allegiance to the forces of the Free States Protectorate was more about beer and guns and kicking ass than any fancy ideas about the purity of the human race.

Silas stood up. “You better get moving. You’ve got a long night ahead of you.” He turned and left.

Brad turned to Archie as he put on his jacket. “Hey man, you want a ride back to CDA?  I’m headed that way.”  Archie grunted assent and collected his magazine.

In the truck, Archie put his fingers in his ears, irritated by the squeaking, which blurred to a high pitch whine as they hit cruising speed on the road. Brad laughed at his discomfort.  As they approached town, he leaned over the dash, looking at the setting sun.

“You better hustle home, pard. Going to be dark soon. Don’t want to see those monsters, do you?” he teased with a laugh. Archie pretended not to hear.

Brad dropped him off where Archie indicated, many blocks away from the neighborhood, as Adam instructed many times.  He hurried down the road, staying well away from the passing cars, repeatedly checking the setting sun.  He turned off into their development, zig-zagging through the familiar streets. He walked up their driveway just as the lone streetlamp flickered on down at the corner. He opened the door with a deep sigh of relief.

Archie dropped his pack in the front hall and plopped in front of the video screen.

“Archie? Is that you?” Serena called from the kitchen.

“Yeth, Therena.”

She pushed her walker to the foyer and bumped into the pack on the floor. She picked it up.

“You need to put your things away.” She opened the pack and sniffed it, then pulled out the stolen soda. “Archie…” She placed the pack in the cubby with the rest of Archie’s belongings. She pushed the walker into the living room and stood next to Archie. “Stand up.” With a dramatic sigh, Archie stood and drooped his head, pouting, while Serena searched his pockets, probing and patting, then she pulled out the last remaining candy bar and the pack of gum.

“You know these are bad for your blood sugar. I’m taking this. Did you buy it or steal it?”

Archie shrugged and hung his head lower. She reached over and stroked his face.

“Oh, Archie. You have to be careful, sweetheart.”

“Yeth, Therena. I’m thorry. I thaid a bad word.”

“What?”

Archie heaved another big sigh, hanging his head. Serena reached out to him, missed his face, and Archie moved closer and she stroked his cheek again. “What bad word, Archie?”

“I thaid, ‘fuck you, Brad.’”  Serena smiled and rubbed his cheek again.

“I forgive you, Archie. Brad probably deserved it. But thank you for telling me.”

After dinner, Serena sat in front of Archie and reached forward to clasp his forearms, and Archie docilely submitted. Adam sat at his terminal next to them. Serena’s fingers fluttered, and Archie’s reciprocated and they both slipped into the trance of sharing. Adam’s fingers flew across his own interfaces, logging into the implant connected to Archie’s hearing aid, watching the data flow from Archie’s eidetic memory, perfectly recalling the sights and sounds from the bar.

Serena gave out a low moan.

“No, no, no….”  They continued a while longer, then she broke away. She turned to Adam.

“I think they’re hunting Bina.”

***

Later, when everyone was asleep, Adam reviewed the downloaded data, reconstructing the visuals from Serena’s communications with Archie and the audio logged into his implant. It confirmed his prior hypothesis about the supremacist groups and separatist alliances and gave him an even better idea of the location of their compound. His disruption efforts coordinated well with the ongoing counterintelligence efforts of the Tribal militias. The escalating regional tensions provided the perfect cover for his plan. The weapons movements and smuggling he already knew about. Archie’s friendships paid off again, moving other pieces into place.

He reattempted locating the messenger without success. He’d have to trust that part proceeded according to plan, careful about not alerting the groupmind or the government to his activities. His recent intrusion provoked the response he needed, more attention and security directed away from his other activities. He didn’t dare access satellite and surveillance imaging systems again, at least not yet. The absence of communication with the messenger was a necessary precaution, but the lack of control bothered him. He’d have to trust that the contact and movement with Bina would proceed as planned, and that the skills of the messenger would keep her safe until she was within Adam’s reach.

Then the missing piece would be restored.

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