said. “The shop is right up here around the corner.”
They walked on for another hundred feet before a wall of glass loomed up in front of them. Tar led them to the right for a few strides before he turned left again, ducking under where the security gate had been cut open and bent back.
“We won’t be able to hear what they are saying,” Tar said. It made him feel better that the Black Shirts would not be able to hear them either. “But as long as they are outside in the play area we should be able to see what they are doing.”
They had taken another few steps when Toby suddenly leaped sideways and swung his light around.
“Frag me!” he exclaimed.
His light wavered on a mannequin, its white plastic cover shining back at them.
Tar smiled but he did not laugh out loud. The first time he had come into the store the plastic people had scared him, too. So much, in fact, he had fallen to the floor and stayed there several minutes until realizing it was not some person who was going to walk over and grab him.
“That’s my fault,” he said. “I should’ve warned you.” He shined his light behind the mannequin. Torsos and smaller body parts were scattered over the floor.
Toby took a tentative step forward.
“Whoa. It’s a woman,” he said, “and she’s naked.”
“They all are. People must have taken their clothes.” Tar shined his light toward the far wall. “Come on. Do you want to stare at plastic boobs all day or see what the Black Shirts are doing?” He didn’t wait for an answer but Toby’s light appeared on the floor beside him as he walked away.
“Shovel’s gonna be sorry he missed that,” his friend said with a laugh. “We’ll have to bring him here some time.”
Tar nodded in the dark but kept weaving his way through the store’s debris. When they reached the outside wall he turned off his light and waited until Toby did the same, then he slowly pulled back the floor-to-ceiling curtain that blocked out the sunlight.
He saw another reason why Shovel would have wanted to be with them, and not just to see naked, plastic women.
Shovel knelt shirtless in the middle of the schoolyard, his dark skin glistening with sweat. Black Shirts were formed up in two rows and at the far end stood a man, sunlight shining off his bald head. The man was talking, maybe shouting, and Shovel was slowly shaking his head from side to side.
“Oh no! What are they doing to him?” asked Toby.
The other students were lined up against the school’s brick walls in an L-shaped theater around the action. Most of the girls were crying, even some of the boys, while those too stunned to react only stared in horror at what was happening.
The bald man beckoned Devin over to him. In the student’s hand was the little machine he had tossed to Tar, the one that played music. The Black Shirt leader took the app and waved it back and forth. He yelled at Shovel but the boy never looked up. The man finally stopped, his chest heaving from the tirade, and gestured to the men at the far end of the lane. They jerked Shovel to his feet.
Then Tar noticed the sheen on his friend’s body was not all sweat. Some of the shine was blood and when Shovel looked up they could see his face was cut and his eyes were swelling shut.
Every Black Shirt raised an arm. Some held short riding whips, others held pieces of wood or metal. The bald man shouted and the two men on the end struck Shovel across the back with their weapons.
He lurched into a run, protecting his head with his hands as much as possible. Tar watched him lurch to one side when a wooden stick landed hard on a rib, and then nearly go down when a metal bar struck across his thigh. The boy continued on, however, even when one of the Black Shirts swung from low to high, striking him with a crop across the face. When he reached the end of the lines he collapsed to the ground at the bald man’s feet. Devin, who had been standing just behind the man, took a small step
They walked on for another hundred feet before a wall of glass loomed up in front of them. Tar led them to the right for a few strides before he turned left again, ducking under where the security gate had been cut open and bent back.
“We won’t be able to hear what they are saying,” Tar said. It made him feel better that the Black Shirts would not be able to hear them either. “But as long as they are outside in the play area we should be able to see what they are doing.”
They had taken another few steps when Toby suddenly leaped sideways and swung his light around.
“Frag me!” he exclaimed.
His light wavered on a mannequin, its white plastic cover shining back at them.
Tar smiled but he did not laugh out loud. The first time he had come into the store the plastic people had scared him, too. So much, in fact, he had fallen to the floor and stayed there several minutes until realizing it was not some person who was going to walk over and grab him.
“That’s my fault,” he said. “I should’ve warned you.” He shined his light behind the mannequin. Torsos and smaller body parts were scattered over the floor.
Toby took a tentative step forward.
“Whoa. It’s a woman,” he said, “and she’s naked.”
“They all are. People must have taken their clothes.” Tar shined his light toward the far wall. “Come on. Do you want to stare at plastic boobs all day or see what the Black Shirts are doing?” He didn’t wait for an answer but Toby’s light appeared on the floor beside him as he walked away.
“Shovel’s gonna be sorry he missed that,” his friend said with a laugh. “We’ll have to bring him here some time.”
Tar nodded in the dark but kept weaving his way through the store’s debris. When they reached the outside wall he turned off his light and waited until Toby did the same, then he slowly pulled back the floor-to-ceiling curtain that blocked out the sunlight.
He saw another reason why Shovel would have wanted to be with them, and not just to see naked, plastic women.
Shovel knelt shirtless in the middle of the schoolyard, his dark skin glistening with sweat. Black Shirts were formed up in two rows and at the far end stood a man, sunlight shining off his bald head. The man was talking, maybe shouting, and Shovel was slowly shaking his head from side to side.
“Oh no! What are they doing to him?” asked Toby.
The other students were lined up against the school’s brick walls in an L-shaped theater around the action. Most of the girls were crying, even some of the boys, while those too stunned to react only stared in horror at what was happening.
The bald man beckoned Devin over to him. In the student’s hand was the little machine he had tossed to Tar, the one that played music. The Black Shirt leader took the app and waved it back and forth. He yelled at Shovel but the boy never looked up. The man finally stopped, his chest heaving from the tirade, and gestured to the men at the far end of the lane. They jerked Shovel to his feet.
Then Tar noticed the sheen on his friend’s body was not all sweat. Some of the shine was blood and when Shovel looked up they could see his face was cut and his eyes were swelling shut.
Every Black Shirt raised an arm. Some held short riding whips, others held pieces of wood or metal. The bald man shouted and the two men on the end struck Shovel across the back with their weapons.
He lurched into a run, protecting his head with his hands as much as possible. Tar watched him lurch to one side when a wooden stick landed hard on a rib, and then nearly go down when a metal bar struck across his thigh. The boy continued on, however, even when one of the Black Shirts swung from low to high, striking him with a crop across the face. When he reached the end of the lines he collapsed to the ground at the bald man’s feet. Devin, who had been standing just behind the man, took a small step
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