The Legend of Kareem by Jim Heskett Read Free Book Online Page B

Kareem has done. I will set right all of the things they have sullied.”
    This man could speak in vague riddles just as well as his brother. No surprise there. But, he’d also revived his talk of confronting IntelliCraft, or at least it seemed that way. Had he forgotten I’d talked him into letting that go for now?
    Or maybe he didn’t understand the difference.
    We rounded a corner and he led me to a concrete parking garage. At the entrance, he took a card from his pocket and pressed it against a sensor to raise the gate. I hadn’t been sure if he’d told the truth about owning a car, but it started to seem more likely.
    We hiked up the concrete ramp to the third story, then he pointed at a late-model Toyota Camry, which looked clean and well-kept. “There she is,” he said, beaming like a proud father.
    He fished a set of keys from his bag and tossed them to me. The keyring had only one key, and a bottle opener emblazoned with a Custer State Park logo. I twisted the thing in my hand.
    “Have you ever been to South Dakota?” he said.
    “Mount Rushmore, once, when I was a kid. My mom took me.”
    “The bison of the Dakotas is such a majestic animal. So strong and patient.”
    Didn’t know what to say to that. As I loaded his bags into the trunk, he ran a hand along the curve of the windshield, smiling to himself.
    “Omar, why do you have a car if you’re not allowed to drive it?”
    Footsteps echoed on the other end of the parking level. The first other people I’d heard since we’d entered the garage.
    “Kareem bought me the car.”
    “That’s not what I meant,” I said as we both got in.
    But before he could answer, the lights in the garage cut out, and a blast cracked the windshield. Gunshot.
    “What was that?” he shouted.
    I threw the car into reverse and screamed out of the spot, with a tire squeal echoing along the concrete parking garage. I fumbled for the lights at the side of the steering wheel while trying to put the car into gear.
    Omar leaned forward, his head between his knees. He put his hands over his head.
    “Are you okay? Omar, can you hear me?”
    “Yes,” he said. “Yes, I am okay, what is happening?”
    Glenning had happened. There was no other explanation. “I think the people looking for us are closer than I thought.”
    I swerved through a line of parked cars, trying to locate the exit sign. It was too dark in the garage to make out anything outside of the headlights of the car. No sign of the shooter.
    I saw the ramp ahead and floored the gas to get there. When the turn came, I yanked the steering wheel, and the shrieking of the tires made me momentarily dizzy. My head pulsed.
    But the ramp led down to a light, and then outside. I didn’t bother to stop at the gate. There was no attendant in the little booth to give a ticket, so I kept the accelerator down and busted through the wooden gate. It flew up onto the windshield, then crashed behind us as I turned onto the adjoining street. Omar yelped.
    “We’re okay,” I said. “We’re outside.”
    I raced down the street, trying to shift the manual transmission and having some trouble. Sticky gearshift, and I didn’t exactly have time to familiarize myself with it.
    “Seizures,” Omar said.
    The tires burned as I turned a corner. “What?”
    “I have seizures. It is why I cannot drive the car, and I am not able to obtain a driver’s license because of them.”
    “You get these seizures often?”
    He didn’t answer, only stared out the window as we headed toward a main street. I listened to his haggard breathing, which eased after a couple of minutes with no gunfire. But he kept his hands clenched in his lap.
    Another gunshot rang out behind us, but I still couldn’t find the shooter. This bullet hadn’t hit the car. The first bullet hole had made a few cracks along the windshield, but I could still see.
    So we weren’t alone out here. If IntelliCraft already knew I had Omar, then we were in a shitload of