Nica of Los Angeles

by Sue Perry

  The room was splashed with blood. Streaks on the walls, splatter on the ceiling, stains on the furniture. And on Ben. His face hair clothes hands.

  I found the phone, punched 911, left the receiver dangling. "Nine-One-One-what's-your-emergency."

  I went back to Ben, returned fingers to throat and wrist to convince myself he had a pulse. His eyes popped open and I yelled, "Aak!"

  "Nine-One-One-what's-your-emergency."

  "Ben, what did you take? Where is your kit?" He grinned like a Dia del Muerto mask. "Ben, I'm not angry. Please. Tell me what you used so I can help you."

  Then I saw the drug buffet scattered on the floor behind the overturned coffee table. A syringe. A bag of white powder. A razor blade. A pipe. A bag of weed. A bong. A near-empty fifth of Jack Daniels. No way! Yes, he had used all at one time or another, but not all together. He was an addict, not an idiot.

  "Neeks," he grimaced or smiled. "Neeks, you -" He struggled to get sound out, couldn't, but wouldn't give up.

  "What, Ben? What?" I leaned in closer so he could whisper.

  "Run," he exhaled, and grimaced again.

  "This is Nine One One. Is anyone on this line?"

  Anwyl returned from the bedroom. From what I could see, the blood and the struggle continued down the hall into the bedroom and bathroom. He shook his head, while a thin anguished wail spread through the room, coming from the pouch on his boot. Zasu, keening for her beloved.

  "I've dispatched a car, it will arrive within 7 minutes," advised the dangling voice.

  Anwyl sprinted outside. I stopped at the doorway. "Ben," was all I could say.

  Hernandez and I met in the doorway. He took a look over my shoulder into the living room to assess the situation, while putting his arms around me to steer me toward the truck and give him room to enter the apartment. "I've got Ben, you take Zasu." He touched my cheek and disappeared inside.

  "North," Anwyl ordered when I reached the truck. "You will drive and I will steer." I floored it to the Hollywood Freeway north.

  We passed the Garcia car and I pointed to them. "They must have followed me here some time, then returned to try to catch Edith here. What happened to them?" I already guessed the answer.

  "Warty Sebaceous Cysts emptied them. That is how they take thoughts in haste."

  I nodded and felt a couple twinges of sympathy. It didn't look like that had been a good way to go. And if evil has gradations, Norma and Aurelio Garcia were not as high up the totem pole as their son or the Cysts. To the extent that they were misguided parents protecting their child, I felt sorry for them. Too bad it wasn't their son who had been in the car.

  I felt peculiarly responsible. If I had taken them more seriously, I would have watched more closely to guard against being followed. If they hadn't followed me here, they would still be alive to protect the family pedophile. Fate and irony are cousins.

  Zasu's grief went to a new level and she let out a rockslide of a wail. In Hollywood, human melodramas are too common to snag attention, but Zasu's noise turned the heads of a couple commuters.

  We had just passed the exit for the Hollywood Bowl when Hernandez texted me twice. The first reassured. Paramedics here.

  The second text read Cops from Largo here. Mathead and Scabman had found Ben, and at a time when Ben was defenseless - except for Hernandez. Fortunately, Hernandez was a major exception.

  27. Queen Latifah On Nitrous Oxide

  By the time we were through the Cahuenga Pass, headed north, Zasu had unfolded and sat between us, with Anwyl's arm across her shoulder to give strength and comfort.

  There were two plausible sources of violence. Ben had a drug deal that went bad - in which case Ziti had been in the wrong place at the wrong time and I had put him there - or the Cysts had arrived - in which case Ben had been in the wrong place at the wrong time and I had put him there.

  "Might Ziti yet live?" Zasu asked.

  "That hope is unlikely," Anwyl said gently. "In other circumstances, Warty Sebaceous Cysts might keep him alive to toy with us, but in this circumstance they seek to destroy witnesses."

  "They can't expect to destroy all witnesses to the book attack. Hundreds escaped."

  "Hundreds will give them no pause."

  Which took us several miles in silence. It was morning rush hour but we made good time, because we were outbound and most of the commuters were inbound to jobs in the city. I kept our speed at 74 mph, because I once dated a highway patrol guy who told me he ignored speeders who stayed within 10 miles per hour of a speed limit.

  Despite the many and terrible implications, I had to hope the violence was a drug deal gone bad.

  I thought I'd handled the merge of the Hollywood Freeway with the Golden State, but now I didn't recognize where we were. "Shit, I need to pull over."

  "Do not stop under any circumstance."

  "I took a wrong turn - I need to figure out where we are."

  "This is unfamiliar because this is not your Frame."

  "Oh. Wow. Okay. Humans aren't the only ones with rush hour."

  "Will Warty Sebaceous Cysts follow our path?" Zasu asked.

  "They are beings with great power, thus they can detect Frame Travel outside Connectors. However, I will shield our journey from their scrutiny by changing Frames subtly and often."

  "You, too, are a being of great power," Zasu said.

  "I am."

  "Did you just change Frames again? Everything looks more familiar here."

  "I returned to your Frame briefly and now we have departed again. We will move in and out all day."

  "To keep the Cysts off our trail?"

  "In part. In your Frame we face greater risk of capture, but we await the next message from Anya, and her messengers only know to seek us in your Frame."

  "Won't you let her know what has happened?"

  "She has her ways of learning. I will not make contact, that would increase the risk of her detection."

  "You don't think the Cysts have figured out what she's doing? They've been awfully interested in her whereabouts."

  "They likely know why but not where."

  If Anya fulfilled her mission, she would be a witness. Could the Cysts hurt Anya?

  More silent miles.

  "In my Frame, these mountains mark a great wilderness," Zasu regarded the San Gabriel mountains with reverence.

  "Have you ever visited your other cities?" Maybe after she testified to the Framekeeps and we returned the Cysts to prison, she could return to some other part of her Frame, a part of Halcyon without daily reminders of her losses. Going somewhere new has always helped me.

  "The next village is - was - five million strides distant. Our Frame has - had - few inhabitants." Her silent tears broke my heart.

  "When you unite with other refugees, I know you'll settle somewhere beautiful," I said lamely.

  "I would see that day," Zasu said. "Are survivors from the other villages hunted, as well?"

  "Those that still live," Anwyl replied. "Warty Sebaceous Cysts intend to steal your Frame and leave no one alive who could tell of the deed."

  More silent miles.

  I noticed the differences that told me we were in other Frames now, whenever I didn't look for the change directly. There were always new housing developments on the hillsides of Santa Clarita, so I expected to see unfamiliar structures - but my Frame didn't have buildings like that, with a texture more like fabric than stucco. As on any summer day, there were boaters on Castaic Lake - but these watercraft moved like dragonflies and mosquitoes, not speedboats. As I steered down the steep gradient of the Grapevine, I glanced into the cars to my left and nearly lost control of Hernandez' truck.

  "Now would be a good time for you to sleep," was Anwyl's reaction.

  "I'm still okay to drive. I didn't nod off, I reacted. Those cars have no people in them. Empty cars pacing us at 70 mph startles me."

  "Your vehicles are sentient in many Frames, they have no need of occupants."

  Sentient! Th
at could be handy. "Can we get one of those?"

  "You have one of those," an unfamiliar voice came through the dashboard, rich, warm and high-pitched - Queen Latifah on nitrous oxide. "Take a nap, I'll get us there."

  “Maybe when we get to the valley floor. I'm not capable of removing my hands from the wheel in these mountains."

  "In that case, please accelerate sooner when we pull out of a turn. Sorry to bring it up, but your driving makes my tires sore."

  "Uh," I replied.

  "I'll need a stop at that rest area in Grapevine, I need you to check a rattle."

  "It is not yet safe for us to stop," Anwyl advised. "Can you wait until the sun reaches its zenith?"

  A long-suffering sigh. "Okay. But do we have to shift Frames so much?"

  "Yes." Anwyl left no room for debate. "Travel to a nearly identical Frame is more difficult to detect than Travel to a Frame several degrees distant, and travel to many Frames is more difficult to detect than Travel to one other Frame. Thus, today we will journey through a hundred similar Frames."

  "Every shift to a new Frame affects my oil pressure, you know, I thought I was having a valve breakdown back there."

  A noise escaped Zasu before she clamped her hand over her mouth. Her bleakness was less prominent as she squinted with the effort to hold laughter inside. I suffered the same problem. You could tell that laughter would not be well received. I couldn't wait to tell Hernandez that his truck is a prissy hypochondriac.

  Talking kept me from snickering. "By the way, I'm Nica, next to me is Zasu, and over there is Anwyl. Do you have a name?"

  "How thoughtful to ask. To so many riders I'm just a truck. Please call me Tee."

  "You got it, Tee," but I totaled our new camaraderie when I hit the next pothole.

  "Ouch! You must let me drive or we will be delayed for repairs that take much longer than curing a rattle."

  Anwyl demonstrated what I should do. Let go of the wheel. It was so simple, yet we went several more turns on the steep grade before I managed it. I'd release one hand - or the other - but couldn't bring myself to release both. Finally, Zasu held one hand and whispered encouragement for me to release the other.

  I let go and we didn't crash. In fact, Tee handled herself with such smooth dignity that I soon had my feet tucked under me, cross-legged on the seat. I didn't think I could fall asleep until I woke up, or came to is more like it. Beside me, Zasu slept with her head on my shoulder and Anwyl stared at things only he saw.

  We were in the long flat expanse of the great central valley. To our west, the air shimmered like a Beverly Hills lawn, as agribusiness irrigated crops in the midday heat and wasted most of the water to evaporation. To our east angry signs flashed by, criticizing government cuts to irrigation water budgets.

  "Wait, what Frame is this?"

  "We have returned to your Frame for the nonce."

  "Okay, good." I preferred to believe that water idiocy might be confined to one Frame.

  "Nica must drive in this Frame," Anwyl instructed.

  "What's wrong? Did I make a mistake?" Tee was touchy.

  "You have done well, and will again," Anwyl's voice smiled although his face stayed somber. "But in this Frame, vehicles do not conduct themselves, and doing so expends energy that will draw attention to us."

  "In a Neutral Frame, who could be watching?"

  Anwyl left that a rhetorical question. "Take the wheel again," Anwyl told me, so I did. As soon as I resumed driving, Zasu awakened - even on these endless flatlands, Tee gave us a smoother ride.

  Who would be watching. Now that Tee had raised the issue, traffic became ominous. With every tailgater, I checked the mirrors to see the driver. Whenever a car passed us, I expected a swerve to knock us off the highway. I knew I was being silly. The Cysts wouldn't use techniques as ordinary as road rage to get us.

  Thinking about the Cysts made me feel worse and I felt plenty bad already, like my soul had a hangover. I feared pain from the Cobra's injury might ramp up again soon.

  "I need more salve," I decided.

  Zasu had peered out the windshield at the distant hint of the Sierra Nevada mountains along the eastern horizon. Now she swiveled her head 120 degrees to look at me when I spoke, then kept going and swiveled another 240 degrees to Anwyl for his reply.

  "Zasu, please obtain that satchel behind us." Anwyl rolled down his window and Zasu elongated an arm until she could grab the backpack in the truck bed. She only needed to stretch an arm about ten feet, then snap it back while holding a twenty pound weight between two fingers. After her other feats, this seemed tame. I hoped I wasn't wearing out my sense of wonder.

  I peeled clothing away from my injury and Zasu gasped. I glanced away from the highway and saw that the injury was finally visible. The skin on my shoulder and across my chest looked like microwaved plastic wrap and although the area was not swollen, the skin was stretched so tight I feared it might burst when touched. Zasu applied salve gingerly, but at the moment the injured areas didn't hurt. Apparently the injury looked even worse on my other arm and wrist, but I was passing 16-wheelers in a crosswind, so couldn't look away long enough to see what distressed Zasu about those areas.

  "Suddenly, I'm much worse." I wished Anwyl would contradict me.

  "You will continue to worsen, as you know."

  "Would that lotion help me? My shocks are so worn out," Tee asked. Air pushed through her vents in a mechanical sigh when Anwyl replied,

  "No."

  I wanted to focus on how funny Tee could be, not on the sudden worsening. Had the salve lost oomph or had I stopped believing it could help? I needed to redirect my attention.

  Now that the wind had picked up, there were clouds on the horizon. "I know we're staying in my Frame in hopes of a message from Anya - but if her cloud can find us, won't the Cysts find us too?"

  "Anya can guess our path and thus find us quickly. Our pursuers must look in all directions, which takes more time. If we linger, they will find us, but we shall not linger."

  The wind picked up and the clouds closed in, but passed without messages. The wind slackened. Time and distance elapsed.

  In this stretch of Interstate 5, usually my only break from monotony is to get het up about the stockyards. Today, in anticipation of passing the first stockyard, I held my breath and renewed my vows against meat, but the stockyard wasn't there. Instead, there was a warehouse and junkyard complex with huge billboards that proclaimed

  Animal Parts New and Refurbished!

  Pick your own from our massive inventory.

  Over 100 species of dogs.

  Over 200 species of birds.

  Exotics our specialty.

  "I take it we shifted Frames."

  "For a time, yes."

  The stench of the next stockyard told me when we had returned to my Frame. Zasu peered, wide-eyed, with no comprehension of the foul smell. Fortunately, the wind had picked up again. The truck cab grew dark and sure enough, a cloud paced us overhead.

  Anya's voice surrounded me like a lullaby for an insomniac and I wanted a lot more of it than I got. Damn, I missed her. "They watch me no longer."

  Anwyl grunted.

  Oh, good, is she no longer in danger? Oh, wait, is she no longer a threat to them? I grunted too.

  The cloud paced us. "I bring woeful news. Only she remains."

  Anwyl looked grimmer than a fire at a daycare.

  Only she remains. Only she -

  We nearly crashed, I jumped and swerved so badly when Zasu let out a jabberwock of a wail. Tee corrected my swerve. Only Tee seemed aware of my driving. The reactions of Zasu and Anwyl clued me to what Anya meant: the other Halcyon refugees were dead. Hundreds of murders across multiple Frames in less than two days.

  Wails filled the truck cab, continuous except when Zasu gasped an inhale. During the gasps, I could hear Anwyl curse in a language I didn't know, but the intent was universal. If Anya had final words for us, we didn't hear them. The cloud continued past us and Anwyl sh
ifted Frame. We passed a field where crop-duster planes chased each other around a water silo like hummingbirds guarding a feeder. At another time, this would have charmed me.

  "Tee drives now," Anwyl said.

  Miles elapsed and eventually Zasu succumbed to exhaustion. With her head on my shoulder, she stared at the odometer. I held her hand and stroked her hair; we watched the odometer numbers advance. I gave off calm, but I was about as calm as a dog on a freeway. I throbbed with anger to mask the feelings I didn't want. Fear. Inadequacy. The Cobra's injuries ached and the Frame shifts gave me a woozy vertigo, as though I had simultaneous plunges in blood pressure, blood sugar, and elevation.

  In times of trouble, nothing grounds me better than the mundane. "Please shift us to a Frame with a rest area. My bladder only has a range of 400 miles," I said.

  In the rest area bathroom, astonishment tempered Zasu's grief and each feature fascinated her more than the last: the rotating latch on the stall door, the flushing toilet, the running faucet, the air dryer. Then Zasu encountered her first mirror. She recognized my reflection, did a doubletake as she realized who that other person must be. To confirm, she watched the reflection elongate its neck then snap it back, just as she did.

  "You must have seen your reflection before," I said. "In a pond or a window?"

  "Yes, but I never saw these sharp edges," she rubbed a finger along her jaw, her nose.

  As we climbed back in the truck, her elation returned to misery. "Ziti would like this place," she said.

  "Your grief is ours," Anwyl told her.

  Tee had us out of the rest area and headed for the highway when I interfered. I shoved my foot hard on the brakes and switched off the ignition. "There it is again. That noise. Like a baby in a dumpster. I heard it before we stopped but -" I opened my door.

  "We tarry too long!" Anwyl had kept his impatience in check during our pit stop, but his exhale now warned of imminent explosion. Then he heard it too.