The Legend of Kareem Read Online Free PDF Page A

Omar?
    No, I couldn’t do that. I needed to find him.
    But I couldn’t take a plane. I’d have to hand over my driver’s license to board one, and a company with IntelliCraft’s reach could find those flight records.
    I could call the cops, but thoughts of Detective Stan Shelton blotted out that idea. The fake cop had blended in with the real ones the night of trainee Paul’s murder in my bathroom, so for all I knew, calling the law would end with the same result. I didn’t trust anyone in authority.
    I couldn’t even rent a car, same driver’s license issue with air travel. I figured maybe buses allowed anonymous travel, but I looked up a few, and they all required ID.
    Pacing around the hotel room with my sad luggage staring back at me from the bed, I was out of options. Was there no way to be anonymous anymore and travel without leaving a trail?
    Then it came to me. Craigslist. I searched the site to find someone looking to ride-share south, and found a few options. Apparently, there was some big concert for a band named White Widow in Austin because I found a glut of hippies with vans seeking to add more riders to help pay for gas. I bypassed anything that indicated several other people were already going. I needed a lone driver, to ease my paranoia.
    When I found one that fit my needs, it was some guy named Zeke, with an aging Honda Civic. Aside from the long hair, he looked about as normal as could be. He was my last option.
    I called him.
    “Hello?”
    “Hello, is this Zeke?”
    “That’s the name they gave me. What can I do you for?”
    “I saw your ad on Craigslist about looking for someone to help pay for gas to go to Austin?”
    “Oh yeah, man,” he said, “I could definitely still use a rider. Gas is so pricey, it’s like they want you to put down a deposit and show them a birth certificate at the gas station, right? You going to the White Widow show?”
    “Something like that.”
    My non-committal answer didn’t give him pause. “Oh, okay, cool. Just tell me where and when, and I’ll come get you. We’ll split gas down the middle, so I hope you don’t think it’s too douchey for me to ask to see if you’ve got funds before we go.”
    “That’s no problem at all, Zeke.”
     
    ***
     
    Zeke met me at the front of the hotel about an hour later. I’d checked every nook and cranny for Glenning, but couldn’t find him anywhere. Anyone who gave me a second look, I studied that person until I could be sure they weren’t going to pull a gun on me. All clear.
    If IntelliCraft saw me getting into this car, then it was all for nothing.
    Zeke had blond hair down to his shoulders, parts of which were matted enough they’d turned into chunky dreadlocks. His skin was deeply tanned for a white guy, and despite the strange teenagery clothes he wore, he looked at least my same age, maybe older.
    “Sup?” he said as I rolled my suitcase to his car. The moist and chilly night air bit at the back of my neck.
    “Hi, Zeke.”
    “What’s your name?”
    Candle almost spilled out of my mouth, but I caught myself. The less Zeke knew, the better. “Luther,” I said, because I didn’t think my dad’s attorney would mind too much. Or ever find out.
    “Lex Luther,” Zeke said, bobbing his head and grinning. “Alright, Luther, I hate to do this but do you mind if I ask if you can prove you can help pay for gas? I’ve been burned, you know?”
    I reached into my back pocket for my wallet just as a paranoid thought occurred to me. What if Zeke here was some kind of con artist? Get me out on the road, give me a contact high from weed smoke, then smack me in the head with a sock full of quarters. I wake up on the side of the road with no wallet.
    “Everything okay?” he said.
    “Sure, sure,” I said, taking out my wallet. I had to stop being so suspicious. I opened the fold and showed him the two hundred in cash I’d withdrawn from the hotel ATM. I didn’t show him the extra thousand I’d stuffed