The Last Reader, Page 2

you’ve finished those?”

  “I don’t know. I can find some more.”

  “How about this,” the man said. “How about you leave me with the book, and I’ll read it to you?”

  Sam put his head down. Something about those words on the page, the ones he recognized, anyway — the way they became not just sounds inside his head but images in his mind, tastes in his mouth, sounds in his ears, almost as if they held some kind of magic, made him want to learn how to perform that magic himself. And not just with the couple of words he knew, but with all words. Maybe he’d even write down something himself one day, so that other people could turn his words into magic.

  “It’s not a deal,” Sam said. “I’ll find someone else.”

  He held his hand out for the book.

  The man looked at him and then he smiled with only half a set of teeth. He rubbed his chin and put the book down on his lap.

  “I’m old, Sam. And in pain. How about you get me a little something for the pain and maybe I’ll teach you how to read?”

  “Like what?”

  “You know those gangs who work around here, don’t you? Who sell stuff to the kids from the regulated zone?”

  In every neighborhood of the de-reg zone were gangs who would supply the reg-kids with drugs, or with anything else they wanted. Sometimes they’d rob them as well, sometimes they’d even kill them, but usually it was a mutually beneficial arrangement. Sam had no idea where the drugs came from, or even how much they cost if you wanted to buy them. All he knew was that the gangs who sold the most drugs were the most powerful, and were constantly killing members of other gangs who tried to move in on their turf. The gang around there, The Nazis, was run by a kid who was only seventeen but had the reputation of being the most ruthless bastard to ever walk the earth. Einstein, they called him. After the football player. He’d only seen Einstein on a couple of occasions, always surrounded by a gang of six or eight other kids. Mostly he stayed hidden, as a hit on him would throw the whole gang into chaos. At least that’s what Tommy said.

  “I don’t have any money,” Sam said. “And that kind of thing costs money.”

  The old man looked at him for a long time. Sam wondered what he was supposed to do. Did the old man want him to join The Nazis? Plenty of other kids in the neighborhood did. Sam’s mom had told him she didn’t want him to ever go near them, though, and his uncle, Boon, had said that if he ever did then he personally would cut Sam’s fingers off. And Boon wasn’t someone you wanted to mess with.

  “I can get you the money,” Old Man David said.

  “You’ve got money?” Sam’s mind started buzzing with possibilities. If he had money, and Sam could make him his friend, he might be able to get hold of a bit of money himself. Money in the de-reg zone was about as common as hen’s teeth. Everyone relied on barter. But for those who had it, anything was possible. He could buy food for his mother to start with. He was still feeling guilty about what he’d said to her earlier on. He knew she only did it for him.

  “Okay,” Sam said to Old Man David. “I can get you whatever you want.” The thought of money made him as confident and cocky as he’d ever felt in his life.

  “One condition, though.” David’s voice was much more serious.

  “What’s that?”

  “You can’t ever tell anyone who it’s for. You got that?”

  “Sure. I won’t tell anyone.”

  “I’m serious, Sam. Deadly serious. If anyone found out it was for me, and that I’m the one giving you the money, do you know how much longer I’d be alive for?”

  Sam saw his point. But then he wondered about himself. If The Nazis thought he had money then he might not be alive for much longer either. Or they’d track him back here to find out where he was getting it from.

  “What am I supposed to say, then?”

  “I don’t know. Whatever you like. Tell them it’s for some rich kid in the reg-zone. Tell them it’s for your uncle. They won’t mess with him.”

  Sam thought about it. He was probably right. Boon seemed to hold a power over the citizens of their zone like some kind of voodoo magic. He’d seen even the toughest kids go quiet when he walked past.

  “If he finds out, he’ll kill me himself. He’s told me I’m not supposed to go anywhere near those gangs.”

  “You’re a smart kid. Do you want to learn to read, or not?”

  Sam thought about it for a minute.

  “It’s a deal.”

  “Glad to hear it. We’ll make an Einstein of you yet.”

  “A football player?”

  “Einstein wasn’t a football player. At least not the first Einstein. He was an German physicist who came up with the theory that helped create the atomic bomb.”

  Sam went home that night without the book. David had given him what he hoped would be enough for some drugs, and told him what he wanted. The only person Sam could trust was Tommy, so first thing the next morning he went out into the bright sunshine and down to Tommy’s house.

  Tommy’s mother didn’t like Sam much, so instead of inviting him in she called Tommy out, telling him to be back in no more than an hour.

  “Look what I’ve got,” Sam said to him as soon as they were away from Tommy’s house. He opened up his hand and gave Tommy a peak at the money he was holding.

  “Whoa, brotherman, where did you get that from?”

  Brotherman. That was new. That was the first time Sam had heard Tommy use that word, even though the older kids used it all the time. Maybe the money was already starting to have an affect on them.

  “Sshh, keep it down,” Sam said. “I can’t reveal my sources, but I need your help.”

  Tommy pointed at his chest with both hands. “I’m here for you, bro.”

  “I need to get some drugs.”

  Tommy stopped. His eye twitched. He was suddenly back to being the ten year old he’d been for the last nine months.

  “What for?”

  “It’s a secret. I can’t tell you any more. Are you in, or not?”

  Tommy looked at him, and then glanced towards his hand and narrowed his eyes.

  “What’s in it for me?”

  Sam and Tommy had always done everything together, and this was the first time either of them had ever asked this question. Sam had taken it for granted that his friend would help him, just as he’d helped Tommy that time his mother had gotten sick and they’d had to work double-time at the dump to feed Tommy’s family, or when Tommy had needed protecting from a couple of local bullies who had decided to make him their victim of the week.

  “I’ll teach you how to read,” Sam said.

  “Who wants to learn how to read? Besides, you don’t even know how.”

  “I will soon, though.”

  “How?”

  “Old Man David’s going to teach me.”

  “Is that where the money came from?”

  “No,” Sam said, but he sounded fake even to himself.

  “It is, isn’t it?”

  Sam didn’t answer.

  “Where did he get money from? Is that who the drugs are for, too?” Tommy was getting excited and a couple of men talking by a doorway were looking across at them.

  “Let’s go.” Sam took him by the arm and led him down the street. Here there was an old creek that Sam and Tommy often came and sat by. It was full of rubbish covered with mud and dust but there was still a trickle of water in it and a willow tree grew up next to it that they liked to climb. Sam shimmied up onto a fat branch and waited for Tommy to join him.

  They sat side by side for a moment, both thinking their own thoughts. Then Sam told him everything.

  “So, do you know where I can get the drugs from?”

  “Heroin?”

  “Yes. That’s what he said.”

  “I’ve never even heard of it. I guess Fatso would be one to ask, though.”

  Fatso was the older brother of Steve, another of their friends, but more Tommy’s friend tha
n Sam’s.

  “I don’t really want to get any more people involved.”

  “Well, we’re hardly going to be able to get it by ourselves, are we?”

  “Why not?”

  “You’re just going to go up to Einstein and ask for it, are you?”

  “Maybe I will.”

  “You’re crazy. What the hell do you want to read for, anyway?”

  “To get the hell away from here.”

  Sam and Tommy walked towards The Nazi’s lair. They owned a whole house, surrounded by a tall, barbed wire fence. When they stood across the street and looked at it — three guys, older than them, patrolling the front yard, two large, black dogs accompanying them — Tommy stopped.

  “I’ll wait for you here,” he said. “Keep lookout.”

  “What do I need someone to keep lookout for?”

  “I don’t know. Go and get help if something goes wrong?”

  Sam realized then that as much as he wanted Tommy by his side, he didn’t want to be responsible for risking his friend’s life.

  “Okay. If I’m not out in half an hour, go and get my mom.”

  Tommy gave a quick, sharp nod, and Sam walked across the street.

  “What do you want?” One of the guys dressed in black behind the fence came over to him. The dog pushed its snout into the wire and growled, exposing fangs.

  “I’m looking for some heroin,” Sam said, as tough as he could possibly muster.

  One of the other guys laughed. “Get out of here, kid.”

  “I’m serious. I want some heroin. I’ve got money.”

  The kid laughed again. “Money my ass. Go on, get out of here before you regret it.”

  Sam pulled the cash out from under his sleeve and showed it to them, keeping it back from the wire.

  “He has too,” one of