The Book of Eadie, Volume One of the Seventeen Trilogy

by Mark D. Diehl

  “I saw them, of course, Patrol Leader. It was obvious they were following that purple man but they were too entrenched for us to attack where they were. I unfaded and approached their targets, hoping that I might provoke the merchants. When they stayed hidden I faded again.”

  “What did the targets do?”

  “My appearance made them nervous. They went home. I followed with my Round and we caught the armed merchants as soon as we could draw them out.”

  The Patrol Leader shook his head. “Unbelievable. Each of the Unnamed had two of those little machine pistols … that’s sixteen of them taken today—in mint condition!” His drunken eyes narrowed in an expression that, to Sato, looked much like jealousy. “No new Rounder has ever taken so much—and on a training mission!”

  Kill them now! They’re just sitting there drunk! Grab them! Knife them or break a bottle and slit their throats. Their blood should already be oozing through the cracks in this shitty concrete floor! Sato grimaced, pushing the other man’s thoughts down again.

  “I would prefer that the matter be forgotten, Patrol Leader. I am merely a servant of the New Union.” Sato lifted the bottle, pouring for the others first, by rank, and then poured another drink for himself.

  “And a samurai,” Lux said, laughing slightly in what might have been a friendly way.

  Sato did not smile in return. “Yes.”

  Now Coiner laughed, just enough for Sato to wonder whether he was being mocked. “Tell us, Samurai,” Coiner said. “How did you come all the way here from Japan?”

  Sato cocked his head slightly. “Did not the Divinators inform you of this? I killed five warriors when it was my place to suffer silently. For this transgression I was ordered to commit seppuku—to cut open my midsection in ritual suicide.”

  “Show us your scars!” Lux said, taking another drink and pointing at Sato’s belly.

  “I have no scars. That body died many centuries ago. My mentor Akihiro severed my head to keep me from crying out dishonorably.”

  Coiner set down his glass. His expression turned serious. Serious enough for a drunken man, at least. “Your friend cut your head off?”

  Sato nodded deeply. “It is the most sacred duty of a friend, bringing swift death to one with whom you have served honorably. In this way, dishonor can be avoided. Death, of course, cannot.”

  Coiner stared at him. “You honestly believe you’re a samurai, don’t you? It’s not just bullshit.”

  “There is nothing to believe. I am as I am. Samurai.”

  Lux leaned forward. “And would you cut off my head for me, if I asked you pretty please?”

  “If I respected you enough as a warrior, I would.”

  Lux smiled, wagging a finger at Sato. “Ah, but I outrank you. I could just order you to do it, hmm?”

  Sato straightened. “To order such a thing would be dishonorable. The act of ordering me to do it would be pointless.”

  Behind McGuillian Diner

  “This is so great,” Eadie said, tearing another piece of bread. “I hope he doesn’t get in trouble with corporate for giving us this stuff.” After so long without a filling meal, stale bread tasted sweet as pure sugar. She held it in her mouth, letting it dissolve slowly, savoring it as long as she could.

  “He should be all right, shouldn’t he?” Lawrence said. “I mean, it’s bactrocarb bread from a day or two ago, so he couldn’t serve that. The cheese is synthetic so it’d keep forever—he could keep it on the books for years before they knew it was gone—and he can just say he spilled the soup.” He took a huge bite of the bread, speaking around it. “Not that I’m complaining about the food. I just think he’ll be okay, is all.”

  Eadie nodded. “Yeah, I guess. I hope so.” She reached into her pocket, grasping Kel’s lighter and pipe. “Oh, Kel,” she said, winking at Ernesto. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

  “Awright!” a voice yelled from deeper in the alley. “Whatta we got here?” Five Zone kids emerged from the darkness, each wearing a bright orange vest and carrying a stick—private security thugs hired by local businesses to keep the alleys clear.

  Kel sighed, setting down his bread and rolling his shoulders as he stood up. Arrulfo stood up next to him, and then Lawrence.

  “Uh,” Eadie said, stuffing the rest of the bread and cheese into her bag. “Sorry. We’re leaving.”

  Kel’s tall column of hair pivoted toward Eadie. He raised one shoulder and cocked his head, as if saying “It’s no big deal, we can take them.” She shook her head. Frustrated, he turned up his palms, making one more silent appeal. Eadie picked up the rest of her things and the others followed. “Kel,” she said, “any fight we can walk away from is one we will walk away from, all right?”

  “Yeah,” the voice came again, probably from the biggest one in the middle of the group. “Ya better get on up an’ outta here. I’m tired a bustin’ heads today.”

  Kel looked again at Eadie. She shook her head firmly. He grudgingly picked up his jacket and they all moved slowly down the alley. The security thugs caught up, one of them grabbing Arrulfo by the shoulders and shoving him forward to hurry him up.

  “We’ve had enough trouble ourselves today,” Eadie said, as much to her group as to the ones in the orange vests. “We’ll just move right on out of the area.”

  “Not through the alley,” another security kid’s voice said. “If yer walkin’ down the alley, then we got to follow you all the way out. An’ we ain’t followin’ you all that way. You gotta walk on the main street so the cameras can keep an eye on ya.”

  Eadie sighed. “Fine. Whatever you say.”

  Outside Eadie’s friend’s restaurant

  The security punk shoved Kel out of the alley and into the bright light in front of the diner. Kel’s face was hot from being so mad, hotter than the damned broiling night, even. He could take out all five of these shitheads any time he wanted—by himself, even, not counting Arrulfo by his side. That dude could mix shit up, good as anybody, except Kel, of course. But Eadie said no fighting, so he let himself be shoved. Even stumbled a little so she saw how much it pissed him off.

  He looked over his shoulder. The orange vests glowed from way back in the dark alley like five sweaty nutsacks waiting to be stomped on.

  “Uh, Eadie?”

  It was Set, the student fuck, staring at something in the street. Kel looked where he was looking. A fucking Fedmobile, parked right there in the empty street.

  “Back to the alley,” Eadie said, talking fast. “Kel, you can fight. Back, everyone. Now.”

  Kel laughed, turning back. The security punks were already heading up the alley again, leaving long shadows in the headlights of some car that was pulling up back there.

  Eadie made a sound, like a grunt, or like sucking in a breath. Kel snapped his head back to see. A big hand was on her shoulder, turning her around. She bent her neck, looking way up at the Feds.

  There were two, one Gold one and another with skin as dark as Dok’s. Kel kept his face down, refusing to lift his chin for them. It’d make them feel all important to have him bend over backwards just to look at them, so fuck that. So what if their mommies raised them on bactrovitamins and gene splices and all that shit? Lots of times those types found themselves looking up at Kel, anyways, after he took out a few knees, shins, and ankles.

  The Gold Fed looked at Set, who had put on his baggy gunbug coat. “You’ll pay for running away,” the old Fed said. “But first there’s you,” he said, giving Eadie’s shoulder a shake.

  Both Feds had that look—the weird thing in their eyes that all God-zombies got whenever they thought they were doing what they were supposed to. That look was always creepy but it looked even weirder on a face that reminded Kel of Dok’s.

  “What do you want with me?” Eadie said. Her voice sounded all calm and cool, like she really did not know.

  The Gold Fed bent down right into her face. “Yeah, cute. You think I don’t recognize you because you dyed your hair? I’ve watc
hed that footage from the diner a hundred times. You’re about to see exactly what I want with you. Get in the fucking car.”

  Eadie’s chin trembled a little. Her voice did, too. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Dark Fed reached for her with a giant black hand, pulling back the hair from her ear and aiming a little box at it. A facescanner, like they had to get into the CBD. Once they scanned her, they would take her. They would put her in that car and they would take her, not just from here but from the whole fucking world. Kel knew it. Eadie would be gone from the whole fucking world but she could not be gone because that would mean she would be gone from him, too. He would never see her again.

  The little box beeped. Dark Fed smirked, perfect gene-spliced teeth showing from his black face. He pulled out a gun. Looked like the size of a sidewalk square, that gun.

  Nobody went fucking with the Feds, not here or nowhere. But now the old one was turning Eadie around and pulling out a plastic zipstrip for her hands and the dark one was holding that gun on her and this needed to stop.

  Kel’s keys made a tiny jingle as they dropped from his sleeve, the other end of the wire sliding into his palm. He took aim and spun them toward their target.

  Outside the diner

  Kel struck before Old Fart could think of warning him not to. The Agent shifted slightly and the keys cut his cheek instead of his eye, but as he flinched Kel seized the barrel of the gun with both hands, twisted it in the Agent’s grip so that it pointed at his partner, and shook it hard. It went off with a sound like a building-sized sheet of metal being ripped in half, leaving the Gold Agent a gelatinous mass of dead flesh.

  It took both of Kel’s hands to keep the gun from his face, with the Agent punching and kicking him over and over, his fists and feet seeming nearly the size of Kel’s head. Kel attempted a few kicks but landed none.

  The Agent flung Kel against the building, slamming him so hard it seemed the bricks would break. Arrulfo attacked with a stick in each hand, scoring a single hit. It was a shoulder rather than the head shot he had tried for. The Agent was too fast. He blocked swing after swing of the sticks with Kel’s body, hurling him into the wall whenever Arrulfo paused. Arrulfo circled one way and the other but the Agent always managed to keep Kel between them.

  Kel lowered his head to the man’s gun hand, sinking his teeth into the thumb while he used his weight to keep the weapon pointed at the ground. Every once in a while he let go with one hand and struck at the Agent’s face, even connecting a few times, but the Agent always turned just enough to make them merely glancing blows.

  Old Fart glanced at Eadie, who was frozen in horror. Her face, so young and with a look of such pain, made something in Old Fart’s brain pop. He grabbed her, snatched the purse from her hands, and shoved her down the street, back toward the Zone. “Run!” he said, tearing into the purse and drawing out the old revolver he had used before. “Run, Eadie! Run away! Now!” He shoved the purse at Dok. “Go with her, Dok. Protect her.”

  He turned and aimed the gun at the Agent’s head. “All right!” he shouted. “That’s enough!” The agent looked up for an instant, the cut under his eye dripping blood, and then went right on fighting. The action never slowed enough for Old Fart to get a clear shot; Kel and Arrulfo—and Lawrence, now, with that long knife—were always in the way. He kept aiming, waiting for a chance.

  Ernesto was pointing a gun now, too, picked up from the dead Agent. It would not work. Agents had magnetic bracelets forged around their wrists, coded to match Federal weapons that would not fire without them. There were no clasps on the bracelets and they could not be removed.

  Kel was thrashing around now at the end of the giant man’s arm, arching his back, flailing his arms, crouching and jumping and twisting. Nothing was working. In the fights Old Fart had seen, Kel and Arrulfo had looked almost like dancers—in smooth, constant motion, sequencing their movements into flashy patterns. The Federal Agent was different. Every movement was efficient and precise, wasting no energy at all.

  Kel inhaled sharply and shifted both his hands to the gun, jumping at the Agent’s throat with both feet. He connected but the gun went off as it was ripped from the agent’s hand. The blast went through Kel’s body, cutting a deep groove into the pavement on the other side of him. The gun skidded toward Rosa, who scrambled to pick it up. What was left of Kel fell wetly to the pavement.

  Old Fart pulled his own trigger.

  17

  Outside the Ricker murder scene

  The old man’s bullet had been a dud. He was still pointing the gun at Agent Daiss. It was obvious he didn’t know whether he had any live shells at all.

  “Do you want to try your luck again?”

  The old man pulled back the hammer.

  A car came up the alley. Its shape was obscured by its own headlights but the finely tuned biocat sound meant it was Federal. Reda from the Thirteenth. The old man would surrender or be dead soon. Or both.

  Reda popped out of the truck, aiming his weapon at one of the Mexicans who held a nonfunctional Gloria 6. A single shot rang out, and Reda slumped to the pavement. The old man leveled his gun at Daiss again.

  The student Williams took a few steps back, still wielding the knife as if it could be of use against a Federal Agent. The Mexican kid with the sticks walked over to the other Mexicans. Then the whole group of them moved toward the girl. Daiss looked her up and down.

  “You should have run when your elderly friend told you to,” he said. “I could kill you all right now, bare-handed.”

  “But you won’t try,” the girl said. “Because, as you see, we’re not bare-handed.”

  Murder scene of two Federal Agents

  “I said there are two Agents down!” Daiss yelled through the EI. “The killers are moving toward the Zone. I need that helio now! It’s the Ricker case—Agency priority.”

  “We’re on it,” the dispatcher said. “Street cameras show no group matching that description moving in your area but we have a signal from your Gloria 6. Now I’m checking back alleys … cameras are spotty there. I’m connecting you to the controller for Heliodrone Thirty-One, Agent Daiss.”

  There was a brief silence.

  “Agent Daiss?” a woman’s voice asked. Daiss started the truck.

  “Yeah, this is Daiss. I’m in the truck, now. Should be coming up on them soon.”

  “I’m following the tracking signal from your weapon—the helio will be right on top of them in a minute. We’ll get ’em.”

  Running toward the Zone

  The high-pitched whine sounded like someone gasping in horror or rage, except that it went on and on, echoing off buildings and growing steadily louder. A Federal heliodrone. Everyone had seen them as they routinely patrolled the skies above the city, but Eadie had never been close enough to hear a sound like this.

  “Eadie?” Arrulfo said, taking a running step to catch up to her side. “Ernesto, he take the guns apart. He find little … signal? Little signal, to tell Feds where are the guns.”

  “A tracking signal.” Eadie laughed. “Perfect. Can he throw them someplace, to get them off the track?”

  “Noplace gonna help, he says. If some car come by, then yes, throw them on. But now, no. So he turn them off.”

  “He turned them off?”

  “Yes. There is no switch. But there is a … a battery? So he take out the battery.”

  Eadie smiled. “Nice job, Ernesto.” She turned down a random alley to change direction and hopefully buy just a little more time. “If he fixed that thing, does that mean the guns will work for us, now?”

  “No,” Arrulfo said. “I ask him that. That part work with … magnetics? Anyway, he say it is too hard for now.”

  They took a few more random turns, finally reaching the end of a row of buildings that widened into open sky.

  “Shit!” Eadie said. “How’d we end up at the fucking river?” She looked one way and another. “Shit, shit, shit!” She pointed downstream at an
old highway bridge spanning the river. “Run for the bridge! Get as far under it as you can!”

  The helio gained ground, its engine noise drilling into her eardrums.

  The group was about twenty meters from the bridge when the helio floated into view, a small sphere suspended from an X-shaped frame with jets at each protruding end, silhouetted ghoulishly against the clouds in spite of its Federal camouflage wizardry. The sphere rotated, changing direction to follow them.

  Arrulfo dropped back to help Rosa, who was struggling to carry Mari through the clotted, heavy mud. Rosa shook her head. Arrulfo let her proceed with Mari and walked backwards behind them, keeping his body between them and the helio.

  Eadie stationed herself a short distance from the bridge, hoping to divert the drone pilot’s attention until the others could find cover. The helio opened fire and she began to run again, veering abruptly to the right and heading straight for the closest bridge abutment. The move bought her a few extra steps before the deafening blast of gunfire caught up again.

  At last Eadie ducked under the bridge, her hair whipping in the draft from the helio engines. The pilot was attempting to descend enough for a straight shot under the bridge but the craft was listing from side to side, rocking in the air currents its jets created. Everyone crouched low, seeking as much protection as possible beneath the beams. Spotting a grate in the concrete bridge foundation, Eadie ran to it and tugged. To her surprise, it opened with little difficulty.

  Somewhere behind her, the Prophet was smiling. The ice between her shoulder blades told her that.

  In the Federal truck

  “That’s right, Agent Daiss. Under the bridge. I angled the helio below street level and emptied both guns into the hole. Couldn’t have been half a minute since they jumped in, and audio picked up the shots ricocheting all around in there. And anyway, nobody who’s gone down into those tunnels has ever come out alive.”