“What’s he doing out there?”

Brad took the joint from his coworker Jaime’s outstretched hand and took a long pull, looking where Jaime pointed. He squinted across the parking lot outside the Cascade Building Materials assembly shop. 

“That’s Archie. He works in the supply room, carries stuff around. He’s my wrestling buddy.”

“What’s he looking for?”

Brad handed the joint back to Jaime and watched Archie wandering the parking lot. He did seem to be searching – stopping, turning, walking, stopping, turning.

“Huh. Maybe he lost something? He’s usually pretty good about keeping track of his stuff. Does pretty well for a retard.” Archie worked at the assembly center as part of a program with the local churches, placing people with disabilities into low skill jobs. He ran errands for the workers unloading the transports, servicing the robots, and loading delivery trucks. Mostly Archie wandered around and socialized, a mascot of sorts. Occasionally, he’d get in trouble for stealing things, which endeared him to the floor workers, who considered him one of their own.

“Hey, isn’t that your truck?” Jaime said, pointing. Brad stood up.

“What the…”

***

Archie found Brad’s truck and he tried the door, but it was locked. Temporarily thwarted, he stared at the handle, then tried it again. Still locked. How was he supposed to put the box under the seat? Adam did not tell him that. Put the box in Brad’s truck. Don’t let him see you.  Brad was not here. He held the box, a smooth black rectangle that fit into the palm of his hand. He tried the door again, but it was still locked. He stared at the truck, frustrated.  He walked around it and tried the other door. Also locked. He muttered to himself, angry words about Adam and his orders.

He looked at the back of the truck, the bed full of broken equipment and junk. He walked to the tailgate and stood on tip toes, stretching his short arms to reach into the bed, dropping the small box into the tangled innards of a broken piece of equipment. He held onto the back of the truck, staring at the location, then let go, turned and walked back to the building, satisfied that he completed the task Adam gave him.

***

Brad walked away from the entrance, still watching Archie, and pulled out his device.

“Hey, Silas. You might be right.”

“About what?”

“Archie. I just saw him doing something with my truck. I’ll check it out.”

“Shit. Walter is not going to be happy. Let me know what you find.”

***

On Adam’s monitor the transmitter glowed green on the map, still at the warehouse where Archie worked. In a few hours, Archie’s shift would end and he’d come home safely. Then he’d see where the target headed. This new data would help him direct his imaging resources to track events. The unexpected news from the collective regarding Bibi’s status must be assimilated to correctly adjust the pieces. The many hideouts and tunnels the enemy used to hide from the government proved to be more difficult to uncover than he anticipated. His messenger should report soon, and his provocations of the tribes and militias were having their intended effect.

He glanced at the monitor again. The tracker was moving.

***

“We’re just going for a ride, Arch.”

“Yeth.”

A group of men waited up ahead on the side of the road. They were well outside town now, into the forested hills. Brad pulled onto the shoulder. He got out, leaving Archie in the passenger seat. 

Archie saw Brad talking to the other men, one of whom he recognized from the bar, the man Brad met who Archie was supposed to listen to. He saw Brad reach into his pocket and pull out the box. That Brad had the box wasn’t a concern to Archie. Adam only said put it in the truck. He didn’t say whether Brad should find it. All the men were now staring at Archie. Brad walked toward the woods and threw the box into the trees.

One of the men opened the door and grabbed Archie’s coat sleeve roughly, jerking him out of the truck.

“Let’s go.”

***

Adam checked the time again then looked back at the monitor. Almost 10 p.m. and Archie was not home. He caught himself compulsively picking the arm rest of his chair and stopped. The tracker hadn’t moved for several hours, alongside a small road in the hills outside Couer d’Alene. He was unable to access his usual remote imaging resources, having earlier discovered the traps laid by his adversaries, probably the government. His intrusions finally provoked the desired responses, but this development was ill-timed, and very frustrating. He let out an involuntary high-pitched whine and began a subtle rocking.  

Serena appeared in the doorway, leaning on her walker, facing in Adam’s general direction.

“What’s the matter? Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”

Adam made no response, still staring at the monitor. He mastered himself enough to stop the rocking, but his hands twitched and writhed. Serena shuffled closer and put a hand on Adam’s shoulder. He leaned into it, rubbing his cheek on her hand and drinking up her soothing smell. She reached up and massaged his neck, and Adam relaxed.

“I’m worried about Archie. He’s not back yet, and it’s dark. He didn’t call or message.”

Calmed by Serena’s presence, Adam debated options, then made a decision. Doing his best to evade the new obstacles, he accessed the Keyhole imaging for this region. It didn’t take him long to find the location of the signal, now an empty dirt road in the woods. He scrolled back in time, saw several trucks arrive, some men mill around, then the depart. He zoomed as best he could. There was Archie, his Seahawks jacket plainly visible.

“What’s the matter? What do you see?” Serena asked, sensing Adam’s renewed tension. He let out guttural rumble, almost a growl, his anger now focused on tracking the trucks carrying Archie. He’d fix these mistakes, find Bibi, keep them safe, and destroy the rest. All of them.

***

Bina stood up and looked out at the sound of the large metal warehouse doors rolling up on their tracks with a metallic rumbling. Caleb joined her. Two trucks pulled in and several men piled out. One pulled a short stocky figure wearing a brightly colored Seattle Seahawks jacket out of the back of one of the trucks. The person had a bag over their head. The jacket, the bag, and the person’s short, stocky frame made for an unusual sight enough. Then Bina heard the crying.

The men appeared agitated. One held the prisoner by the arm with a look of disgust and distress on his face. The hooded person emitted a series of moans, shrieks, and wordless gibbering.

“Shut up!” one of the men yelled, cuffing the hooded person. The crying stopped for a moment, then resumed, at a lower volume.  The men talked amongst themselves, then one pointed to another door on the adjacent wall of the large open space. They dragged the hooded person over and threw him inside, then secured the door. 

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