Other than that the boy simply looks sad, forgotten and alone.
“What happened to him?”
“Uh,” the tech stammers. “Just what you see.”
“What do I see?”
The tech fumbles for an index card-sized medical chart slotted into place on the front of the drawer.
“He was stabbed between his third and fourth ribs there. The knife was a dagger, double-edged. It pierced his heart. He would’ve lost consciousness right away, died almost instantly.”
“What about these marks?” Kem waves his hand over the grotesque bruising. “What are they?”
“Restraint marks, I’d say. There’re traces of leather around his neck and wrists. Probably somebody tied him up with...like, belts or something.”
“Or whips,” Kem says without hesitation, remembering the shockers pursuing the boy through the crowd at the departure gate, the looks on their faces and in their eyes.
Just as he knew he would yield while he was hanging from the deadway, Kem knows he’ll kill at least two men before he leaves Sling City for the final time.
“Did you know him?” the tech is asking him. “There’s no name on his chart.”
“No, I didn’t know him.”
No name. The thought curdles every pulsing thing in Kem’s gut.
“Mister Carbassa?”
“Yeah?”
“This is probably the wrong time and all, but I don’t imagine I’ll get to meet you again before I rotate back to Earth. So, uh, could I possibly have your autograph, sir?”
The tech holds out a facecard. Kem looks down. It’s in better condition, but it’s the same one shoved into his hand by an unnamed little boy right before he left Sling City to received Nico’s remains in a tube.
The same one the boy used to plead with his hero to save him.
For the second time in as many days Kem begins to weep.
TO BE CONTINUED...
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Matt Wallace is a novelist, screenwriter, and the award-winning author of over one hundred short stories. He spent ten years traveling the western hemisphere as a professional wrestler and combat instructor before retiring to write full-time. He now lives and works in Los Angeles.
Visit matt-wallace.com to find out more.
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