Logan Trilogy by William F Nolan, George Clayton Johnson Read Free Book Online

her, wanted to understand her.
    "Why should every child be taken from its parents at birth? Why should a brother and sister be separated for seven years?" She studied Logan's face. "When did you begin to doubt, to question Sleep? I'd like to know."
    "I can't recall just when. I'd heard the stories, of course."
    "Of Ballard?"
    "Yes. And the rest of it."
    "About the Sanctuary line. Oh, how I wanted to believe those stories when I first heard them as a little
    girl." Her eyes grew hard again. "Do you ever wonder what your mother was like, who she was, what she felt, how she looked? Do you think she'd be ashamed of what you've become?"
    "She may have been a runner, too," said Logan evasively. "I'll never know what she was."
    Jess frowned angrily. "I think you should. I think children should know their mothers and be loved by them. Little Mary-Mary should have a mother to love her. A machine can never love you…only people can love people."
    "Where did you work before you ran?" he asked her.
    "I was a fashion tech at Lifeleather trim. Three hours a day, three days a week. I hated it."
    "Then why did you stay there?"
    "Because it was a job. What can anyone really work at? You can paint or write poetry or go on pairup.
    You can glassdance or firewalk in the Arcades." Her voice was scornful. "You can breed roses or collect stones or compose for the Tri-Dims. But there's no meaning to any of it. I just—"
    A scream from the tunnels.
    "That was Mary-Mary!" Jess lunged forward, but Logan restrained her.
    "Wait," he said. "Here she comes."
    The child ran out of the darkness into Jessica's arms. "The bad people! Bad, bad, bad!"
    A howling group of cubscouts burst from the tunnel mouth to surround them. A strutting, feral-faced thirteen-year-old headed the pack. From the waist up he was dressed in the bloodstained uniform of a DS man. Below the ripped black tunic he wore sweat-darkened skintights. "Here now and look what Charmin' Billy led you to." He smirked. "The little rat-trapper and two stinkin' runners."
    Mary-Mary stomped her foot. "You go on away!" she demanded. "This is my place. Go back upstairs!"
    Charming Billy ignored her. "Going to have us a time, we are!"
    Logan measured the pack with his eyes. He could summon the car in another five minutes. How do you buy five minutes? He'd take out the blocky cub to his right first and then go for Charming Billy if nothing else worked. He eased Jess and the child behind him.
     
    Logan looked at Billy. "I feel sorry for you, boy."
    Confusion. The pack watched their leader.
    "For me? Better feel sorry for yourself, Runner!"
    "No—for you, Billy. How old are you?"
    Billy's eyes slitted. He didn't reply.
    "Twelve? Thirteen? Now me, I'm as old as you can get." Logan slowly exposed his blinking timeflower. "And you your days are running out. How long can you last, Billy?"
    One minute gone.
    "Two years? A year? Six months?" he pointed to the blue flower glowing in Billy's palm. "What happens when you go to red?"
    "Got me a Sandman once, I did! They said I'd never get him, but I cut him up good, I did. Make the rules as I go. Cubs do what I say. Always have. Always will. I got Cathedral and I'll never let go!"
    "No cubs at fourteen, Billy. Ever heard of a cub with a red flower? You'll leave Cathedral then, Billy, when you're on red, because they won't let an adult stay here. The young ones. They'll gut-rip you if you stay, so you'll cross the river. And then, almost before you know it, Billy, you're twenty-one and your hand is blinking. And you'll die like a sheep."
    Two minutes gone.
    "Not me, I won't!" Billy shouted. "I'll—"
    "—run!" snapped Logan. "Isn't that just what you'll do? Run as I'm running. As she's running."
    "Shut up! Shut up your damn mouth! I ain't no stinkin' runner!"
    "We're the same kind, Billy. You're just like us. Help us, Billy. Don't fight us."
    The blocky cub cut in. "Let him suck Muscle. That'll shut his mouth. Let's us watch him shake himself to death!"
    The anger