Transformers: Prometheus

CHAPTER 16

Arcee pulled up a few houses down from the Witwicky residence. Jack removed his helmet and glanced behind him, but saw no sign of Sam or Bumblebee. “What the hell?” he asked. “Arcee, weren’t they just behind us?”

“They turned off about three streets back.”

“And you didn’t think to mention it?”

“It’s not my fault if you’re not checking the rear view mirrors. Remember, soldier boy, objects in them are—”

“Closer than they appear, yeah, I get it.” Jack said, shaking his head. He sighed. He couldn’t exactly break into the Witwicky residence. Maybe they had a spare key under the doormat or something. “Let me give Sam a call.”

Arcee shrugged her mirrors. He brought up Sam’s number and tapped call—and heard, after a few seconds, a ringtone from further down the street. There was Sam, jogging up the sidewalk. “Hey,” she said, panting, “Let me explain.”

“Explain? Where’s Bumblebee?”

“He’s parked around the corner. Listen, there’s a really good reason for it.”

“You broke formation,” Arcee cut in.

“Hey, whoa, I did not break formation. That was all Bee. He decided that all unilaterally. I even told him you’d be all surly about it.”

“Surly?”

“So, why is he parked around the corner?” Jack asked, before things could get any more out of hand.

Sam frowned. “Well, you remember how Bee looks kinda, well, old? Like he’s from the 1970s? Y’know, perfect car for your cheap-ass dad to buy because he doesn’t want his daughter to take any boys up to Make Out Point with her bitching new ride?”

Jack shook his head.

“I’m sorry,” he began, “what?”

“What’s an outpoint, exactly?” Arcee asked. “And why would you need to construct one?” Jack glanced at her, somehow incredulous before he remembered that Cybertron didn’t at all seem like the place for teenage trysts. Not that his house had been, either.

“I’ll explain later,” he said. “Sam, what’s up?”

“I think Bee was feeling under-dressed given the company, y’know? Well, he drove past this shiny new model, scanned it with like a thousand laser beams, and now he’s stylish.”

“Which is a problem... why?”

“Because my dad bought a used, beat-up Chevy. Not something that I feel like is worth more than our house!”

“Oh,” Jack said. “Right.”

“So, if Bee just goes back into the garage, I’ll have some explaining to do. And like, it’s a bit beyond going down to any body shop and getting some work done. He was going on and on about needing to look his Sunday best and it’s like, dude, let me break out the sponges and elbow grease before you go and get a new car without consulting me. Long story short, we’re not on speaking terms.”

There was something about car-washing an Autobot that struck Jack as... odd. Not for the first time since he and Arcee had crossed paths, Jack found himself realizing that the categories of ‘vehicle’ and ‘person’ weren’t as clear-cut as they used to be. He rubbed at chin, trying to ignore the... everything of it.

“Well, we can handle this,” Jack said. “We’ll walk in, get the diary, and then go find Optimus.”

Sam nodded. “Oh, sure. Except my dad’s home.”

“Okay, that’s a snag, but we can deal with it.”

“Didn’t you hear me? Dad doesn’t like the idea of me dating someone my age. Much less someone older than me. A little thing called statutory.”

“Why would we tell him we’re dating?” Jack asked, frowning.

“What else can we tell him? ‘Hi, dad. Here’s Jack. Yes, he’s from the news. No, I can’t tell you how we met, or what he’s doing here, but we’re just friends, trust me?’ Yeah. That’ll go down well.”

“This is all very interesting,” Arcee said.

Sam blinked. “Really?”

“No.”

Jack nodded. “She has a point.” That, and it was a cold night. And, now that he was thinking about it, the optics of an older guy holding a heated conversation with a high school girl on the side of the street weren’t great, either. “Let’s just get moving.”

Sam led the way to her home. She was right—the lights were on, and Jack caught the flickering of a television through the living room window. Explaining himself to her father did not strike him as a good idea.

“I’ll distract my dad,” Sam said, fetching her keys from her back pocket. “I’ll let you in through the back door. The journal will be up in the attic. You remember how to get there?”

Jack nodded. It was a suburban home, not a cave network. Creaky floorboards had nothing on tripwires.

“Yeah.”

“Cool. Text me once you’re out.”

“Roger that,” Jack said, and Sam unlocked her front door and stepped inside. He made for the gate at the side of the residence and, finding it locked, settled for climbing over it. He landed without as much grace as he would’ve liked, and stuck to the walls. Inside, he could hear Sam and her father having a back and forth (“No, dad, I wasn’t doing anything but driving Bee. I mean, I pay for my own gas, so...”)

That was one advantage of knowing an Autobot, Jack figured. No need to pay for gas. Soon, he heard the back door unlock, and Jack made his way inside. He shut the back door softly. Here he was, in the Los Angeles suburbs, somehow behind enemy lines. He shook his head, consulted his memories of the Witwicky residence, and slipped up the stairs to the first floor.

It was quieter upstairs, but Jack couldn’t let himself think that meant he was any more secure. All it would take was Sam’s dad hearing one thing, or coming upstairs at just the wrong time, and that’d screw everything up. The attic ladder creaked as Jack brought it down from the ceiling. It might as well have been a gunshot.

Still, he made it up the ladder without issue. The attic was as dusty and cluttered as he remembered it. He could see the prints of his shoes on the boards, and everything he’d sat upon or Sam had touched. She’d kept everything in a small brown box. He found it, opened it, sifted through it, looking for the old journal. Sextant, telescope, glasses...

Nothing else.

It wasn’t there.

“Shit,” Jack muttered. He grabbed his phone, and texted Sam a message: journal’s not here, where is it? There were four missed calls from Maggie, too. Jack furrowed his brow. That was odd, which meant it had to be pretty urgent. And, just like that, his phone lit up with another call.

Maggie. Again.

He answered.

“Maggie?” he whispered. “I’m kind of in the middle of something.”

“Jesus, mate, I thought they’d grabbed you.”

What?

“Who’s they? The Decepticons?”

“What? No. The government.”

Jack frowned.

“Mags, why would the government—”

“Because they were snooping around my house, Jack. Like a dozen of these genuine men in black types.”

“And you’re sure they’re with the government?”

“Well, I didn’t exactly go up and ask them, mate. I didn’t see any badges, and they weren’t wearing those FBI vests. But it’s the government, or a bunch of guys holding a surprise wake at my place that I wasn’t invited to.”

“And they were snooping around your house?”

“Sure were. They were waving these devices at—well, everything. I saw them come out of my garage. I’m pretty sure they had the tools I used on Arcee in, like, evidence bags.”

“What? But that’s...”

“Crazy? Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. I told Glen and I think I sent him into delete fucking everything mode.”

“They can’t know about the Autobots,” Jack replied. But, as he said it, he wasn’t so sure—was that before or after four comets had impacted within the metropolitan area of Los Angeles? But that hadn’t been anywhere near Maggie’s place...

The only Autobot who had been there was Arcee.

“Well, they sure seem to know something, mate,” Maggie replied. “And I really don’t want to go to Guantanamo.”

Jack paced around the attic. Whether they knew about the Autobots or not, the thought of government suits prowling around Maggie’s place wasn’t reassuring. If they hadn’t hit Glen’s place and his own place by now, then they would soon. Jack ran a hand through his hair, thinking...

“Don’t go home,” he said. “If they’re going to bring you in, they’ll have someone waiting for you there. Find the cheapest motel you can think of and use cash. I’ll text you when Arcee and I can come get you. Might be an hour, might be less. Tell Glen to do the same.”

“Okay, got it,” Maggie said, even if begrudgingly. “And what about our pile of spare parts? I’ve got it locked up pretty good, but...”

Jack frowned. Frenzy’s corpse. If the government found that, Jack had no idea how they’d even begin to explain it.

“Damnit,” he muttered. “Yeah. Well, let’s just hope they won’t turn over that rock. Mags, I’ve really gotta go.”

“Okay. I’ll try to reach Glen, but I’m sure he’s halfway to Mexico by now. Watch your back, Jack.”

“You too, Mags.”

She hung up. There was a reply from Sam, too: maybe it’s in my bedroom lol. “Yeah,” Jack said, “Really laughing out loud here.” Unsure of what else to do, he cased the attic again, sifted through the box of seafarer’s mementos again, but found no sign of the journal. He didn’t want to think about returning empty-handed. Arcee would be scathing, but somehow he knew Optimus would be the disappointed type, and he knew enough about dads to know that always stung a bit more than anger.

“Hey,” Sam hissed. “Psst. I’ve got it.”

Jack headed for the ladder. There was Sam, at the bottom. “Your bedroom?”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

Jack clambered down and Sam passed it to him. He skipped through the pages, as if making sure it was all still there. Not that he could understand any of—

“Huh,” Jack said.

“Yeah,” Sam began. “Let me guess, you can kind of understand it?”

“Sort of. Like when you’ve got something on the tip of your tongue but the more you think about it, the less sense it makes?”

“Yeah.”

“Great,” Jack muttered. “That’s great.”

“I mean, getting a crash course in alien languages is pretty cool, though.”

“I don’t know about that,” Jack replied, shoving the journal into his back pocket. “I’ll head back to Arcee.” He took a step away then turned back, remembering what Maggie had said, and unsure of how to put it.

“Has anyone ever come by here and, like, asked about Bumblebee?”

“No. Why?”

“I don’t know. But if anyone shows up and says they’re from the government...” Yeah, what was he going to say? If Maggie was right, then Jack doubted there was anything Sam’s dad could do to dissuade them from doing whatever it is they wanted to do.

“Jack?” Sam asked. “If who is from the government?”

“I don’t know. I need to run some things past Arcee. Something weird is going on. Cover me, I’ll head out the back door.”

So, Sam did. Jack emerged into the night air and made good on his covert escape. Once he was over the gate, he broke into a jog. Arcee was right where he’d left her. Still, he glanced up and down the street, saw nothing but parked cars and glowing windows.

“Something up?” Arcee asked.

“Got the journal,” Jack replied. “But Arcee, listen—are you sure there’s been no other Autobots on Earth?”

“I mean, it’s possible. I didn’t know 127 was here.”

“But improbable, right?”

“That’s a good word for it.”

Something was off. Jack didn’t know what, but his instincts were screaming at him like he’d heard a pin being pulled or a safety being flipped. He pulled his helmet on, then climbed aboard Arcee. “Plot a rendezvous with Optimus, and let’s get moving.”

“On it,” Arcee said, and ignited her engine. She pulled out of park and took off down the street. “And the girl?”

“I think she’ll catch up.”

“Fine by me,” Arcee replied. “Coordinates plotted. Twenty miles north-east. Optimus and the others are already en-route. They should arrive just after we do.”

Jack nodded as Arcee took a left-hand turn, doubling back toward the interstate. They drove for a little while, and then Arcee asked, “Hey, soldier boy—are you seeing this?”

“Sorry, Arcee?”

“Get your head in the game,” Arcee snapped. “Six o’clock.”

She angled her mirrors, and Jack caught a glimpse of a lean off-road buggy. Black, and following them. Several meters back, keeping out of sight. It looked like one of the old Chenowth DPVs he’d seen, but meaner—covered with angular armor plate, carrying itself on heftier suspension. And there was something mounted on the roof that had to be a weapon, but certainly wasn’t a .50 cal. Hell, it didn’t look like any mounted gun Jack had ever seen.

“What the hell is that?”

“I was hoping you could tell me,” Arcee said. “It’s been tailing us since we left the girl’s house.”

“Not a Decepticon?”

“I don’t think so.”

Jack thought about Maggie’s men in black. But a vehicle like that wasn’t anything he expected to see outside a war zone, and wasn’t exactly inconspicuous. He frowned, felt his teeth clench. The hairs on his neck were electric.

“I don’t like this, Arcee. We should call off the rendezvous.”

“It’s one vehicle.”

“Which we didn’t know about,” he said. “Known unknowns and unknown unknowns, Arcee. We don’t know numbers, we don’t know who they are.”

“Getting nervous, soldier boy? Don’t worry, I understand. Optimus has that effect on people.”

“Arcee, goddamnit, I’m serious.”

“And so am I, Jack,” she retorted. “I’ve dishonored the Autobot cause by remaining here, and I’m not about to give any of them any reason to mention it. So, hold on, and shut up.”

Then, she was turning onto the freeway, heading north, out of the city. Her engine kicked into high gear, and Jack couldn’t help but hear it as a scream. He didn’t see the black buggy again, or anything else, as Arcee left the suburbs behind.

But, even when he stopped checking her mirrors every few seconds, Jack couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched.