Under the Skyway (Skyway Series Book 1)

by James K. Douglas

  I had nearly forgotten about Nikie until she began to fuss and groan. I unzipped my vest down below chest level so she could pop her little orange head out. Our breakfast companions only smiled and chuckled to themselves as I slid the plate close enough for her to reach. She purred as she took the first few bites, happily sharing my eggs.

  The group ate mostly in silence, a form of gratitude meditation as I understood it. I kept an eye on the red cloth hanging over the partition, eager to get moving. By the time I finished my last bite, two people were walking out from behind it, both wearing surgical gowns, masks, caps, and gloves. They removed the rubber gloves quickly, disposing of them in a nearby trashcan before washing their hands in a converted eye wash station. Next off were the masks and caps, revealing an older man’s shaved head with deep ridged skin, and a younger woman. Her amethyst hair was cut in a wide mohawk, combed back to make a short pompadour style. As she turned to remove the surgical gown and straighten her scrubs, I noticed the Rod of Asclepius tattooed up the back of her neck, the single green snake winding its way up a rough-cut staff, all done in photo realistic style.

  The monk placed his gown in the laundry basket with hers and took his outer robes down from a hook on the wall. When he finished rewrapping it, he gave her a deep bow. She returned the bow and removed the red cloth from the partition, taking it with her back around to the other side. A moment later, she and a younger monk exited the separated area with a pet carrier in each hand, taking them to one of the smaller enclosures where the kittens inside could rest until they fully recovered.

  Ani Ngawang caught the doctor on her way out. As they spoke, the doctor glanced our way briefly before nodding, smiling, and returning to the makeshift doctor’s office. When Ani Ngawang returned to the dining area, she spoke with Jennifer first.

  “The doctor will see you now,” she said.

  “Jackson’s more injured than I am,” Jennifer said. “He should go first.”

  “Jackson has something else to attend to.”

  Jennifer acquiesced without further argument, while I followed the nun to the storage room.

  “You could leave her with us, if you like,” Ani Ngawang said, removing a cardboard pet carrier from the stack.

  I watched her fold it out into a stable structure, as I said, “I appreciate that, but with everything she’s been through, I’d rather take her somewhere quieter.”

  “And you have a place to go?”

  I removed Nikie from my vest, kissing her on the head as I set her in the box. “My aunt’s place. She’ll be safe and comfortable there until all of this is over.”

  From the cabinet, she removed a disposable litter box and a small bag of dry cat food. “You may need these, then,” she said, passing them to me. “If you need anything else, you can call on us.”

  “I appreciate that,” I said, gathering up the items into a neat stack.

  I removed my vest and wrapped it around the stack, zipping it closed and cinching the drawstring at the bottom tight enough to make it all easier to carry. The makeshift sack looked a bit awkward, but the bulletproof material gave me some small peace of mind about her safety, and with the arm and neck holes open, I hoped she wouldn’t feel too smothered. When all was ready to go, I exited the storeroom, catching Ms. Nadee exiting the doctor’s office.

  “Everything good?” I asked, but I could already see that her cuts were closed and cleaned.

  “No major injuries,” she said. “You’re up.”

  I followed the doctor around the partition, removing my jacket and shirt, laying them on the table, while she put on a fresh pair of gloves. From a side table, she picked up a device that looked like a telephoto lens and attached it to her digital pad. She instructed me to turn around as she lifted the device to scan my ribs.

  “Your friend says you were shot,” she said.

  “The vest took the brunt of it,” I said.

  “You’re starting to bruise up back here, but I’m not seeing any fractures. I’m going to give you something to help you heal.” I didn’t have the chance to object before I felt the poke of the needle into the center of the bruise on the right, followed by another in the bruise on the left. “Turn,” she said, and I complied.

  She opened an individually packaged swab and used it to clean the scratches on my face, and one on my neck I hadn’t noticed. I winced at the fresh sting. By the time she set the cloth aside, it was much more red than I had expected it to be.

  Next, she picked up a half used tube, applying a glob of clear gel to her finger tip. I held still as she dabbed some onto each cut and scrape with one hand and rubbed it in with the other. As the gel dried, I could feel the skin around each wound tighten toward the damaged area, sealing it shut.

  As she moved from wound to wound, she asked, “Are you the same Jackson that volunteers around here in the evenings?”

  “I get in when I can. The job makes me keep odd hours.”

  “Well, if the job gets you shot at often, I hope it pays well.”

  “Clearly, I should have gone to medical school. You don’t get shot at and still have time to volunteer.”

  She smiled at my bad joke. “I get in when I can.” She finished with my face and handed me a small bottle of pills. “Those bruises are going to hurt like hell for a while. Take one of these every twelve hours to help.”

  “They won’t leave me foggy, will they? I still have work to do.”

  She assured me I’d stay clear headed and dismissed me. I was in the middle of thanking her for her help when I was distracted by the Jennifer’s voice from the other side of the screen, talking in baby talk and giggling. I peaked around to have a closer look.

  A long haired cat, mostly black with spots of white, ran a lap around Jennifer’s legs before dropping a ball of wadded paper at her feet. No more than a year old, the little creature was full of life, swinging its tail as it trotted a few steps away and crouched, ready to run. As it turned in a little circle, enticing her to play, I noticed only three little paws touching the floor. The creature’s fourth leg, on the rear right side, was simply gone, any stump it may have had hidden by the fur.

  Jennifer picked up the ball and threw it halfway across the building, watching as little nails scrambled on the concrete floor, the little form picking up speed despite having no traction. She laughed openly at the sight of the half grown kitten smacking at the paper ball as it sailed past it, banking hard to come back for it, eventually grabbing it in little teeth to carry it back and go again. Jennifer asked the kitten rhetorical questions about its cuteness, giving it a rub on the head.

  “I see you’ve met George,” the doctor said as she stepped around me.

  “He’s so sweet,” Jennifer said.

  “And stubborn,” responded the doctor. “He was hit by a car. The leg was too broken to save, but the little guy walked right up to one of the nuns and demanded assistance, for him and his sister, Laney. I was called in, and a few months later, he’s acting like he never needed the thing.”

  Jennifer sat on the floor to scratch George’s cheeks. “Sister?” she asked, turning to look at the doctor.

  The doctor pointed a finger toward the closest stack of dog food. Between two of the bottom bags was wedged a plump little tuxedo cat with a white chin, watching their every move. Keeping her head low and her body still, she seemed quite convinced that we couldn’t detect her.

  Seeing her there, Jennifer rolled the paper ball her direction. George stayed put, watching as his sister pounced on the ball with both paws and her mouth. The innocent toy never stood a chance. Claws held it fixed as powerful jaws pulled. The sound of shredding paper echoed around the room. Other young cats from George and Laney’s pen simply stared in horror, their allotted time out of the enclosure darkened by Laney’s unintentionally antisocial behavior.

  “Oh!” I exclaimed, to no one in particular. “I get it. George and Laney, like George and Lennie from Of Mice and Men. That’s funny.”

  “I hate to i
nterrupt play time,” Jennifer said, “but we probably should get moving, now. We have a schedule to keep, and you still need some repairs.”

  “Agreed,” I said, gazing down at my mangled hand.

  Plastic and friction don’t generally go well together. My little finger was gone, nothing left but a half inch of nub. My ring finger and thumb had been worn halfway through and the palm had a wide ditch worn smooth across it. I was glad that I hadn’t built the thing to feel pain, but the spastic twitching of the damaged fingers was starting to become a nuisance.

  Jennifer’s voice pulled me from the examination of the damage. “So, where are we headed?”

  “The junkyard,” I said. “Everything I need is at the junkyard.”

  Chapter 13

  Overhead, dingy clouds had thickened as the rising sun evaporated the morning dew from darkened neon signs and tattered awnings. I lifted the collar of my jacket, fending off the cool breeze blowing between the buildings. I could still see the ghost of my breath in the October air.

  Checking my watch, I started doing the math in my head. The junkyard was more than halfway across the city, a four hour walk. That might be cut to two hours if Jennifer insisted on carrying me again, but even that left us a bit shy of making it to the sale on time. Most of the morning shift change traffic was over, with only the stragglers still out on the roads and sidewalks, so catching a ride would likely be the best option.

  Jennifer and I had briefly discussed finding the nearest Skyway access, but that option was nixed pretty quickly. With no idea who was actually after us, it would be better to stick to the surface streets. The Skyway was a fast way to get around, but it was also heavily monitored by both the police and multiple private security forces.

  I was pulling out my phone to dial up a cab company when I noticed an old school bus taking a wide turn around a corner a block away. The yellow paint had been replaced by a coat of black, decorated with abstract designs of neon pink spray paint. It slowed as it approached, coming to a stop in front of us.

  The windows were dark, a heavy tint preventing me from seeing anything inside. Even the front window had a reflective sheen, making it impossible to identify the driver. I took a step back from the curb, acutely aware that I was no longer wearing my bulletproof vest.

  The doors flung open, revealing the sight of a familiar smile and outstretched arms, tipped by glowing pink nails. “Jackson!” Dana called out, wrapping me in her bionic embrace. “Oh sweetie, I heard about the attack on your apartment. Please, come inside where it’s safe.” She gently pushed me toward the door while waving for Jennifer. “Come on, dear. We need to get moving.”

  The interior of the bus had been completely converted. The typical twenty-four two person seats had been removed, replaced by plush gray couches lining the walls. The interior shared the same paint scheme as the exterior, but strips of hidden black lights shined from behind the seats, making the pink streaks glow with a soft vitality.

  I didn’t recognize the driver, a mid-thirties male with a shaved head and a Chinese made left arm, but the rest all looked familiar. On the couch behind the driver sat the young woman and older man we had seen in the lobby of the Battlegrounds, while the man with the oversized arm guarded the back door, giving me a broad, crooked grin.

  “Where to?” the driver asked.

  Dana deferred to us, so I gave him the address of the junkyard where I stored my spare parts. He shifted the beast into gear, and I tried not to fall down as Dana led us to a seat in the middle of the moving vehicle. I set my vest wrapped package beside me on the seat as Dana popped open a hidden compartment in an armrest to offer us a drink.

  “Water, if you have it,” I said.

  With her heel, she pressed on a panel in the front of the couch to her right, popping open a refrigerated drawer. Pulling out two bottles, she handed one to me and one to Jennifer. I swallowed one of my pills and chugged half the bottle while she pressed the drawer closed.

  When I was certain the pill was all the way down, I continued. “We do appreciate the ride. I wouldn’t mind knowing why your eyes and ears were keeping such a close eye on my apartment, though.”

  “You certainly don’t waste any time,” Dana said, crossing her legs and straightening her pleated skirt.

  “It’s only about an hour’s ride in this thing, by my estimation. I just want to make sure you have enough time to say what you came to say.”

  “Jackson,” she said, touching fingertips to her cleavage, “I come out of the kindness of my heart to lend you a helping hand, and you suggest I have some sort of ulterior motive?”

  “Don’t make me laugh, Dana. You had people watching my apartment, and you tracked me to the temple. I figure you only had one, maybe two people tailing me, so I’m not going to blame you for not pitching in sooner, when we were getting shot at, but you’re still taking a risk coming in now, and you’re hardly well armed enough to deal with the hit squads coming after us.” I leaned forward in my seat, resting elbows on knees. “So, what’s your game? Did you decide to throw in your lot with us, hoping for a small paycheck, or a favor?” Her head turned a degree to the right, without breaking eye contact, as the corner of her mouth twitched. “No,” I continued, “you’re hoping to play both sides against the middle, watch everyone else fight it out, while you wait for the last second to come swooping in to claim the prize.”

  She changed the crossing of her legs, again smoothing her skirt. “Things are getting out of control, Jackson. It’s getting ugly, and I don’t think you can handle this. I’m worried you won’t get out of this alive.”

  “Oh, I can take care of myself.” I leaned back in my seat, shoulder to shoulder with Jennifer. “And I’ve got good help.”

  “With my help, you would have a small army at your disposal. That attack on your apartment means you must be getting close to finding this thing. I could bring in fifty armed bionics to help you. We could crush these thieves and take what we want.”

  “You’re willing to risk a war with the Combine?”

  “If this thing is as valuable as you seem to think it is, they’ll be eager to make a deal with me after all is done.”

  “You still don’t even know what the item is,” I remarked.

  “I’ve never seen the Hope Diamond, but I understand its value to the right buyer.”

  “And maybe that’s part of the problem. I show you where this buy is happening and there we are, surrounded by your fifty armed bionics. What guarantee do I have that you won’t just take it, and leave us out in the cold?”

  “Jackson,” she said, leaning an elbow on her knee, “while I truly mean no disrespect to your client, what I’m offering you is a partnership. You provide the intelligence. I supply the muscle. We split the payoff.”

  “That’s very generous, but I’m afraid it would be a violation of my contract.”

  “I guarantee this sale will pay much more than she is paying you.”

  “I hear what you’re saying, but this could potentially make enemies with people I can’t buy off.”

  “Fine,” Ms. Marrow said, turning her attention toward Jennifer, “let’s make a deal. You give me the information, and I retrieve the item for you. Whoever the current seller is, they obviously aren’t interested in dealing with you, but if the item were in my possession, I could guarantee it gets sold back to you, Ms. Nadee.”

  Jennifer responded immediately. “You’re asking me to give up the only leverage I have, to put the item in your possession, in the hopes that you sell it back to me at a fair price? That doesn’t seem like a good deal to me. I think that gives you all the power and puts me over a barrel.”

  Dana’s eyes narrowed as she folded her hands in her lap. She might have been able to charm me into a less than favorable deal, but Jennifer was too shrewd for that. Dana’s offer of a temporary advantage was far outweighed by the long term risk of betrayal, and the worst of it was that she didn’t even have to lie to do it. I had no doubt that Dana would hold to
every word she had spoken as if it were an iron clad contract, which was exactly why she never put a number to her price.

  I had expected Dana to press the issue, to offer another deal or to come at this one from another angle. Instead, she did something much worse. She changed the subject.

  “That’s a nice set of legs, sweetie,” Dana said. “AlterBionics makes a beautiful product. I don’t know what I would have done without that company, and an understanding doctor.”

  “Yes,” Jennifer responded, “I’ve heard some medical doctors are helping people get past the ban, but almost all of them are connected with Marshall. How did you get approved for the nerve interface?”

  “Oh, no, well I’m sure some medical doctors are doing that, but this is my therapist I’m talking about. I was diagnosed with gender dysphoria a few years ago, well, more like ten years ago. Eventually, the doc signed off on the hormone implant. Things went well, but…” Dana leaned in close, lowering her voice. “I used to be a welder. I worked sixty hours a week, had arms and hands like a gorilla with legs and feet to match. No amount of hormone therapy was going to fix that.” She sat back in her seat, retrieving a bottle and glass from the compartment beside her. “So, being that it was so important for my transition, I was approved for limbs that better suited my feminine self.” She poured herself two fingers of bourbon and sipped from the glass.

  “You look spectacular,” Jennifer said, with a smile in her eyes.

  I was certain she wanted to say more, to compliment Dana’s particular choice of AlterBionics products, but we hadn’t yet mentioned to Dana who Jennifer represented, and tipping our hand to a possible competitor would have been a bad way to go. I already knew Dana’s history, so she wasn’t telling it now for my benefit. Maybe she really did want to make a connection with Jennifer, but it was just as likely that she was attempting to come at us from another angle, playing the sympathy card to encourage us to see her as a potential ally. The whole exchange left me feeling like I was sitting at a poker table with a couple of card sharks, and my back to a mirror.