Tron Legacy the Junior Novel - Alice Alfonsi [3]
With a sigh, Sam folded his arms and waited.
Just then, he noticed a cab rolling down the empty street. Timing his move just right, he slipped out of the parachute harness and landed with a thump on the taxi’s roof. Perfect!
“Hey, no free ride!” the driver shouted out his window.
Just then, a pair of police cars flew around the corner. Lights flashing, sirens wailing, two more units appeared on the opposite end of the block.
Wow! Sam thought. When I call the cops, I really call ’em!
The taxi was blocked in. The driver hit the brakes. But Sam wasn’t stopping. He rolled off the roof of the taxi and landed on his feet. Then he leaped on and over the hoods of both police cars and took off full speed down the street. Behind him, more official vehicles screeched to a halt.
Just as he reached his motorcycle back at the original landing site, a blinding beam of light shone down from above. Sam looked up and saw a police helicopter overhead, its blades beating the night air.
Policemen rushed out of the shadows. They had been waiting. Strong hands seized him. One of the officers snapped a pair of handcuffs on his wrists. Another told Sam what he already knew.
“You’re under arrest!”
A FEW HOURS LATER, EVERYTHING WAS CLEARED UP. While his dad might not be around, his name still pulled a lot of weight. Uncuffed and released, and not much worse for the wear, Sam left the police station and headed home.
Home for Sam wasn’t a nice little ranch house in the suburbs or a huge mansion in a subdivision, which, by the way, he could easily afford. Sam Flynn lived where no one else did, next to a junkyard near the city docks.
During the day, this area was loud and active. Sam didn’t like it much then. But now, just past midnight, the piers were closed, the warehouses were deserted, and the city skyline silently flickered like rows of lit candles in a quiet church.
Sam cut his motorcycle engine and parked beside a stack of boxcar-size shipping containers. Carrying a bag of take-out burgers, he climbed a metal staircase to the container on the very top.
Home sweet home, he thought, pulling out a key.
Thanks to a giant window cut into one side of the metal container, Sam had a great view of the city. But tonight he ignored the scenery.
Walking in the front door, he heard a friendly bark. A furry dog, tail wagging, bounded up to greet him.
“Hey, Marvin,” Sam called, reaching into the bag. He tossed his dog a thick, hot burger. “double-double. No mayo. Just the way you like it.”
Marvin barked a thank you and began nibbling on the juicy meat.
Sam went to the fridge and grabbed a cold drink, then headed for the couch with his own burger.
His place was a total mess. Papers and books were piled everywhere. The shelf was cluttered with rows of action figures, and in the middle of the room, a vintage motorcycle sat up on blocks. This was his father’s old bike. Sam was in the middle of rebuilding the twenty-year-old ducati. One wheel and a lot of engine parts were scattered all over the floor.
Sam stretched out on a couch beside his father’s cycle, unwrapped his burger, and began to eat. That’s when Sam realized he wasn’t alone. A man stepped out of the shadows.
Sam bolted upright in alarm. Then he saw the man’s face. “Alan,” he said with relief, “what are you doing in my apartment?”
Alan Bradley shrugged. “You don’t answer your phone.” He smiled. “How ya been, Sam?”
Sam narrowed his eyes. Years ago, Alan had been his father’s best friend. After his father had escaped the digital world and focused back on the real world, he’d made Alan a partner at Encom. And when Kevin disappeared, Alan had been the one to help raise the young orphan. Now Alan managed Sam’s majority ownership of the corporation—and he tried to manage Sam, too.
“When I was twelve I might have appreciated the whole surrogate-father thing,” Sam bitterly told Alan. “But come on. I got it under control now.”
Alan gestured to the mess around him. “Clearly.”
“What is it?” Sam lashed back. “do you want to help me with my homework?