The Bar Code Rebellion by Suzanne Weyn Read Free Book Online Page B

on the Superlink, this time headed north toward Mfumbe’s home. Despite his objections, none of them could come up with an alternate plan to take care of him. His parents were bar-coded. They probably had private doctors they could take him to see. There didn’t seem to be any other choice, so Mfumbe had reluctantly consented to go.
    On the ride up, Mfumbe sat between Kayla and Dusa and slept most of the way. Kayla told Dusa about seeing Eutonah.
    “This psychic stuff is so weird,” Dusa commented.
    “When I was in the mountains, Eutonah taught me a lot,” Kayla replied. “She’s amazing at harnessing the power of her mind. She says I was born with natural ability as a psychic, but I need a lot more training.”
    Mr. and Mrs. Taylor lived in a neat house on a suburban street. Mfumbe’s mother burst into tears when he appeared on her doorstep at dawn the next morning, supported by Dusa on one side and Kayla on the other. Overjoyed to see him, she asked no questions as she ushered them into their living room. His father fumed at first, but seeing the condition his son was in, he soon relented and phoned a friend of his whose son was a doctor.
    “Kayl-l-a and Dusa can stay here, right?” Mfumbe checked with his parents.
    Kayla looked at him sharply. The quiver, the odd stammer on the l sound in the way he’d saidher name — she’d never heard that in his voice before. He was probably just weak.
    The Taylors exchanged an uncomfortable glance at each other. “It could be dangerous,” he said.
    “You’re right,” Dusa said firmly. “You might want to consult a lawyer after he sees a doctor.”
    “But he’s bar-coded now,” Mrs. Taylor pointed out. “Everything is all right now.”
    “They grabbed so many people and bar-coded them that they might not even bother to look for him,” Dusa allowed. “But we did break him out of jail and —”
    “You broke him out of jail?” Mr. Taylor shouted.
    Kayla stepped toward Mfumbe’s father. “They hurt him and we thought that —”
    Mr. Taylor wheeled around so that he was looking Kayla directly in the face. “I don’t care what you thought!” he shouted at her. “My son was headed for a university education on a full scholarship until he got mixed up with you! Thanks to you, he’s lost that chance. He might be wanted by the police. He has a criminal record for shoplifting.”
    “He just took a bottle of Adleve, dear,” Mrs. Taylor defended Mfumbe.
    “Yes, and he stole it for her !” Mr. Taylor insisted. “Every mess he’s gotten into is because of her.” He took a small phone from the pocket of his cardigan sweater. “In fact, the last I recall, the Yorktown police are still looking for this girl in connection with her mother’s death. I think it’s my duty to call them.”
    “Dad, no!” Mfumbe shouted. The effort set him into a fit of coughing.
    “He’s coughing up blood!” Mrs. Taylor realized. While she and her husband attended to Mfumbe, Dusa and Kayla slipped out the door.
     
     
    Dusa’s fake bar code tattoo was made from the records of a woman who had died with an active bank account that still contained close to two hundred dollars. They used it to buy lunch at a diner in Peekskill. As they ate, Kayla asked her about the fake tattoos.
    “This computer hacker genius out west does them for us, Jack something or other,” Dusa explained. “He takes them from the files of dead people. We like to spread the fakes around, to make them available to people who might need them but don’t know where to get them. In fact, I’m heading out to Nevada to get another batch. I have to meet a bunch of people in Yorktown to set it up as soon as we leave here. I can’t bring you to the meeting because it’s top secret.”
    An elderly waiter served them thick slabs of the chocolate cake they’d ordered. “I just saw you on the TV,” he said to Kayla. He pointed to the fake bar code on her wrist. “You were saying how much you love your bar