The thing began to whirl like a turbine engine.
There was an orange button next to the green one that read Heal, which gave me a few warm fuzzies. If this was a military-grade pod, it had the potential to be more advanced than your average run-of-the-mill home units.
I refused to get my hopes up, instructing my sane brain to get back in charge of things before I crashed and burned. When expectations were elevated, it almost always went the other way. “How long does it take?” I asked Case, only to find him walking away. “Hey,” I called. He stopped and turned. I suddenly felt a little ungrateful. “Um, thank you. If you hadn’t made it to the clearing when you did, we might not be here. And also for allowing me to bring Daze here. It’s appreciated.”
He nodded, then continued to make his way to the seating, where he collapsed.
I found a chair and dragged it next to the pod. I had no idea how long it would take to diagnose, but I figured it would stop making noise when it was done.
My eyelids drooped instantly.
Despite the adrenaline buzzing through my system, my body had had it. I crossed my arms and tried to get comfortable. It was going to be a long night and fatigue was settling in, as it did regularly after a big, exhausting event. In this world, you took rest when and where you could get it.
* * *
A loud beeping sounded, and I shot off my chair like a gun had gone off next to my ear, stumbling forward. I had no idea how long I’d been asleep as I leaned over the pod, wiping the crust from my eyes, searching for a readout of some kind.
The sound of Case’s voice so close surprised me. “This pod can only fix minor ailments.” He was almost to us, his gait steady, his eyes alert.
“How long have we been out?” I asked, blinking myself awake.
“It’s been about two and a half hours.”
That seemed like a long time for diagnosis. I scanned the top of the pod, but couldn’t find any words, only blinking lights. “How do you read this thing?”
“The screen is on the inside.” He stood next to me and opened the lid.
Daze looked so small lying inside.
His face was still covered in dried blood, but his chest was moving up and down at regular intervals. That was a good sign. “What does it say?”
Case leaned over to read the digital scanner, which scrolled by at a quick clip. “Three broken bones. A rib, the hamate bone in his left hand, and a hairline fracture in his ulna. Some of his organs are bruised, but not bleeding. He has fifteen cuts to his outer epidermis—I think that’s his skin—and a ‘maxi’ concussion, which I assume is worse than a mini.”
“Okay.” I glanced down, mildly surprised to find my hands clasped in front of my body like I was trying to make a wish. “That all sounds healable.”
Case leaned forward again as the digital screen morphed, flashing new text. “He’s also severely dehydrated, malnourished, and his vitamin D levels are below acceptable levels.” Case glanced at me, his face grim. “Without intervention, it says he will die within twenty-four hours.”
My hands shot apart as I raked them through my hair, turning in a circle. “What are we supposed to do? How do we help him?”
Case depressed a small button next to the screen, and it flickered. He read the new text out loud. “First, he needs water. Then we need to clean his outer wounds, place him back in, and press the Heal button.” He stepped away, shrugging. “That’s all it says.”
“You get the water, and I’ll swab him with some medi-towels.”
Forcing water down an uncooperative throat was harder than it sounded. Or maybe it was just as hard as it sounded. Daze didn’t wake up, but he did sputter and cough. I made him drink three glasses. One was aminos to give him some extra nutrients.
Next I ran medi-towels over him and watched in fascination as some of the minor wounds closed instantly. I also decided to give him a numbing dart to help with the pain when he woke up.
Once we were done, I closed the lid and pressed Heal.
Now we waited.
I made a move to sit back down in the chair, and Case said, “Go get some rest in a sleeping pod. I’ll stay here.”
“No, thanks. I got it.” I took my seat.
Instead of arguing, Case got his own chair. “It could take hours.”
“I’m sure it will.” We sat in silence, the whirl of the machine calmer this time. Apparently, healing was less forceful than diagnosing. After about fifteen minutes of silence, I said, “I don’t think your sister made it out alive, but I can’t be sure. I didn’t get a good look at the bodies. But she was there. I heard her talk about you.”
“She wasn’t my birth sister. And that’s perfectly fine. It means I don’t have to go find her and do it myself.”
I peered at him, my arms crossed, trying to relax as much as I could in a straight-backed chair, my back and neck already cricked from sleeping in this position for over two hours. “You made a deal with Tandor to rat me out, but not to protect your sister—to kill her?”
He didn’t answer immediately.
After a while, he finally murmured, “We’d been together since our time on the streets and then eventually were sustained by the same family. She was vile, one of those people who never thought before she acted. She valued her own pleasure over others. She had a child ten years ago. Her son was loving, loyal, funny, and bright.”
“Frankie.”
He didn’t question how I knew the child’s name. “She didn’t deserve him. She killed him because Tandor told her to. She did it gleefully and horribly. She made him suffer. I vowed to track her down if it was the last thing I ever did, and today it seems I kept my promise.”
We sat in silence again.
About an hour later, the machine stopped, alerting us with another loud beep. I stood, dropping my arms. “That’s it?” A green light blinked on the top, so it must be. Case stood next to me. “Do you think he stopped breathing or something? Is that why it quit?”
“There’s only one way to find out.” Case opened the lid.
The kid’s eyes were closed, but his coloring looked better, healthier. The ultraviolet light must’ve been on continuously. “What does the readout say?”
“His bones are set. His vitamin D is now at a minimum acceptable level. Hydration is noncritical. It says he needs rest and food. Then back here for a week of daily treatments.”
I grinned. “Seriously? This thing is my new best friend.” I caressed the top of it in silent thanks before I leaned over and lifted Daze out. As I adjusted him in my arms, his eyes blinked open.
“Holly?” His voice was raspy and hoarse, breaking on the last syllable of my name.
“Yeah?”
“I didn’t mean to lie to you. I just didn’t know what to do.”
“Don’t worry about it.” I walked us toward the sleeping pods.
“I knew the quantum drive would save you. At least for a while. Tandor really needed it.”
“That was smart. And, by the way, I forgive you.”
“You do?” He tried to lean up, but he was too weak. I reorganized him, letting his head fall against my shoulder.
“Yep. But if you ever do anything like that again, I’m not risking my life to rescue your skinny butt off that damn gorge. Twice is my limit.”
His eyes fluttered shut. “Okay, deal.” Half a beat later, they flew open again, his heart racing as it pattered against my arm. “Are you still going to sustain me? I can understand if you don’t want to anymore—”
“Yes. I am. You’re not going to get rid of me that easily. But, by my count, you owe me big-time, and I’m thinking it’s going to take at least a year—maybe two—to pay me back.” Daze nodded, satisfied with my answer, his eyes drifting shut once again. Case stood next to a sleeping pod, and I set Daze inside. Then I leaned over and unlaced my boots and unzipped my vest, leaving my guns where they were, strapped to my waist. I crawled in next to him, gently shifting his body to the side. There was more than enough
room for the both of us. These military pods were huge. As Case began to shut the lid, I growled, “Set it for twelve hours, and I swear on the accuracy of my Gem, if you sedate me again, I will know it. I’m not averse to kicking your ass a third time.”
“You’re safe. At least for tonight.” A tiny glimmer of a smile flirted at the ends of his lips.
It was possible Case had dimples, but I’d likely never see them again, so I wasn’t going to dwell on it overmuch.
The lid went down, and I closed my eyes.
Sleep had never sounded so good. The chair had been fitful at best, and my entire body ached, the adrenaline totally gone now. In its place was cold, hard fatigue.
My mind drifted immediately to Darby.
First thing tomorrow, we’d figure out a way to get him back, and life would go back to its normal, dreary self.
My eyes flicked open, and I almost laughed out loud.
I was lying next to my kid. A kid I’d already disowned and then reowned in the span of two days. Things were never going to be normal again. The best I could hope for was something new.
The sleeping pod next to me closed.
A new fucking normal.
I’m sure it would be as easy as one, two, three.
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Holly Danger: Book Two
Danger’s
Vice
CHAPTER ONE
“What do you mean she’s in holding?” I paced in front of the worktable where Lockland sat, fingers pressed to his temples like he was trying to force back a headache. That made two of us. “What the hell is holding, anyway?” I braced my fists on top of the cool metal, leaning over so I could get my answer up close and personal.
I was tired. Sleep had been evasive at best. Daze had almost died the night before, so I’d been up on and off, never really settling into any good REM.
But the kid was better, so that was a plus.
I’d arrived in Port Station this morning to pick up my craft, only to find her missing. She’d been parked in a hard-to-reach location—like on-top-of-a-building hard to reach.
“I’m working on it.” Lockland raised his head. Smudges darkened the skin underneath his eyes, indicating he hadn’t slept all that well either. “The guards brought Luce in.”
The table in Bender’s workshop that I was hovering over was covered in junk. Pixie motors, dirty rags, random fittings, and for the first time I noticed some distinctly shaped items of the personal pleasure variety.
I stood, raising a single eyebrow.
Doing my best to ignore the assortment of colorful and unnaturally glossy toys, I made my way over to a nearby chair and sat. I sighed. “Where did they take her, exactly?” I brought a hand up to my hair and tried to brush it away from my face, but my fingers got hooked in the uncooperative mess. It fell around my shoulders in thick, ropy strands, saturated with sweat and who knew what else. A trip to a cleaning stall was high on my to-do list. After everything else. “And how did they achieve that? She was parked on top of a fucking building. At an angle.”
“They have a mover drone,” Lockland replied. Along with the half moons shadowing his lower lids, the jet-black stubble tracing his clenched jaw was longer than usual, and his short hair was in need of a trim. Seeing Lockland unkempt was strange, as the man took it to heart to stay kempt, but I understood why. None of us had had time to do anything other than survive the last few days. “Like people used before the dark days, to transport large objects like floating craft and construction bots.”
“Yeah, I know what a mover drone is. Thanks for that.” I stood, frustrated that we’d found ourselves in this predicament. It’d been a lot of years since anyone had gotten the best of us. We were a solid team, working as a unit to help each other stay alive. It was the only way to survive in this city. We all had a talent. Mine was salvaging and keeping my ear to the ground, making sure nobody messed with us, and if they did, they paid for it.
I’d failed big-time. I’d missed something huge.
Outskirts had descended into town two months prior, with plans to take over the city. It was unacceptable. The only saving grace was that I’d made their leader pay by shooting a big laser through his chest, almost losing my life in the process. I had zero regrets. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.
I wandered toward the large graphene wall that separated us from the outside, my titanium-toed boots clacking over the chipped mezzanine floor. Bender’s shop was enormous. It used to house retail space before disaster struck, back when industry had thrived. Instead of like now, when making do by salvaging and repairing whatever the hell you could find was all we had.
Resting a shoulder against one of the pillars that divvied up the space, I crossed my arms. “We have something extremely valuable stored inside my craft”—my head bobbed toward Lockland, and then Bender, who sat on his usual stool, stationed close to the cooling unit—“and it’s imperative we get her back as soon as possible.”
The quantum drive that Daze, my new sustainee, had stolen from Tandor, the zealot freak who’d threatened to take over the government, was tucked away inside a secret compartment under Luce’s dash. We had no idea what was on it, but whatever data it contained—it was important. The odds that the guards in Port Station had discovered it were iffy, but they existed. My hidey-holes did their jobs well.
“We’ll get her back,” Bender said gruffly as he stood.
“I sure as hell hope so,” I commented. “Any word on Darby’s location?” Our friend and resident tech wizard-slash-scientist had been detained by the government. We’d had very little news thus far.
“No,” Lockland answered. “Claire has been unresponsive.”
“Since when?” I dropped my arms, pushing away from the pillar, my burgeoning headache forgotten in an instant.
“Late last night.”
Bender grabbed a large box off a shelf and brought it over to a worktable where he began rummaging inside for something, his large biceps straining his frayed shirtsleeves as he moved. Bender was one of the most intimidating presences in the dark city. His shiny, bald dome gleamed without a speck of hair and his muscles were corded with stark definition. He stood a head taller than most, and used the height to his advantage. “That’s not like her,” he grumbled, his face aimed inside the box, his hands moving things around. “Something has to be wrong.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” I said, making my way over to see what he was doing. “She always picks up.” I addressed Lockland, “What did she say when you last spoke with her?”
“The conversation was a little strange,” Lockland admitted coming to join us. “She sounded distant and hurried.”
“Distant how?” I plucked up the object Bender had just set on the worktable and turned it over in my hand. It resembled a hydro-bomb, but it had a hard, bumpy coating. “You were conversing on a tech phone. How could she sound distant?” I glanced at Bender. “What the hell are these things?” It sat heavy in my palm. Bombs were light, usually made of compressed, highly flammable air.
Bender grinned. “It’s a fuel rocket. I remembered I had these once we came back from dealing with that asshole, Tandor. They would’ve come in handy.”
I continued to examine the new toy. “These are totally back-in-the-day bombs, but they give a nice directional blast, from what I’ve heard. I’ve never used one.” The top of the oval was less dense than the rest of the body. It was meant to break first, localizing the explosion. I met Lockland’s gaze across the table. His mouth was turned down in a frown as I continued to manhandle the object. “What? These things have a tough skin and the activate switch is tucked inside a false bottom.” I slid my thumb over the rough exterior to prove my point. “It’s not going to break in my hand.” He said nothing, but his eyes continued to judge the situation like a father would a child’s naughty behavior. I set the blaster down carefully and huffed, crossing my arms. “Fine. You haven’t finished telling us
why Claire sounded distant. Please continue…”
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Amanda Carlson is a graduate of the University of Minnesota, with a BA in both Speech and Hearing Science & Child Development. She went on to get an A.A.S. in Sign Language Interpreting and worked as an interpreter until her first child was born. She’s the author of the high octane Jessica McClain urban fantasy series published by Orbit, the Sin City Collectors paranormal romance series, the contemporary fantasy Phoebe Meadows series, and the futuristic/dystopian Holly Danger series. Look for these books in stores everywhere. She lives in Minneapolis with her husband and three kids.
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Website: amandacarlson.com
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Nothing is created without a great team.
My thanks to:
Awesome Cover design: Damonza
Digital and print formatting: Author E.M.S
Copyedits/proofs: Joyce Lamb
Final proof: Marlene Engel
Danger's Halo: (Holly Danger Book 1) Page 21
