CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
I’d had a lot of people tell me I was a failure over the years. Teachers, foster parents, hell, even gangsters. They must’ve been onto something, because I couldn’t even die successfully.
I came to with an antiseptic smell filling my nostrils and a God-awful artificial light trying to claw its way through my eyelids. There was no pain, which was a plus, but I felt like I’d run a marathon carrying an elephant on my back. I considered slipping back off to sleep, but curiosity got the better of me. I opened my eyes. The ceiling was kind of boring, just a bunch of white tiles with holes in them. I didn’t know why I’d even bothered waking up.
“Well, look who decided to stop napping.”
I rolled my head to the side to find the source of the voice. “Christ, are you still here? You’re like a goddamn puppy dog. I just can’t get rid of you.”
“Asshole,” Desmond said. “You still look like shit, you know, guy.”
I tried to sit up, then abandoned the idea when my head started screaming. I had more tubes going in and out of me than I knew what to do with, including something pouring fluid into the vein in my arm and another one snaking under my blanket that I guessed was draining more fluid from my nether-regions. A curtain was half-pulled around the bed, and I could make out people in scrubs moving past outside.
I tried to work through my jumbled thoughts. I was having trouble getting my head straight, and the painkillers they were pumping into me didn’t help any.
Then I remembered. “Vivian? Is she…”
“A lot better than you.” Desmond nodded. “Todd was telling the truth. She showed up a few minutes after you couldn’t be bothered keeping your eyes open with half the police department behind her.”
“Is she here? I want to talk to her.”
Desmond dropped his eyes. “She…had work to do.” He paused, then pulled a crumpled envelope from his pocket. “She left this for you.”
What the hell? All I got was a letter? I took it and turned it over in my hands. It was thin, with my name scrawled across one side.
“This better be a check,” I said.
Desmond smiled, but said nothing.
I tried to sit up again, and it went a little better this time. A dull ache pounded through my head, and fatigue threatened to drag me back off to sleep, but I sure as hell wasn’t ready to go yet.
“I’ve got a present for you,” Desmond said in a too-cheerful tone.
“Yeah?”
He got up, peered around the curtain conspiratorially, then pulled it closed. He returned to his backpack and pulled out two bottles of German beer. “Sorry, they’re kinda warm.”
“Des,” I said, “you are Jesus returned to life. Think I’m allowed to drink with all this new plumbing?”
“Do you care?”
“Touché.”
He popped the tops off the beers and handed me one. I untangled myself from the pipes pumping air into my nose and took a sip. It tasted like life itself.
“So are we in Bluegate, or did they decide to abandon it and start over?”
“It’s still standing, for the most part,” Desmond said. “The slums and the Avenues got hit hardest, there’s a lot of people that got displaced. Hundreds of millions in damage. Billions, maybe. But the war fizzled out. The first shipment of Chroma was limited, most of it got shot up within hours of it hitting the street. Todd probably had plans for distributing more, but when that precious girl of yours got hold of it and you tore her husband’s house to pieces, well, that put a bit of a damper on things. Now the cops are working with the Vei to hunt down the last of it and find the manufacturers in Heaven.”
“Did Todd get hauled away?” I asked.
“Yeah. The cops have been working him over all day. Vivian said he confessed straight up, laid out his entire plan. No lawyer, no nothing.”
I took another long pull of my beer. “And Caterina?”
“She’s being more shifty. She was careful, there’s not much to tie her to everything.”
“Tell me she’s not gonna walk.”
He shrugged. “I ain’t no expert. Maybe if the cops get her people to roll on her, they might have a case.”
Goddamn it. That was the problem with the law; it imprisoned the innocent and set the guilty free. I polished off the rest of my beer in one hit. I could do with another, but I didn’t ask Desmond if he had more. Instead, I squeezed the bottle in my fist and asked the question that had been burning a hole in my mind since I woke.
“How many?”
“How many what?”
“When I attacked Andrews’ place. How many did I kill?”
“Ah.” He didn’t say anything for a moment. He looked older than I remembered. Hell, I probably did too. Finally, he spoke, going a little pale as he did. “Twenty. Maybe more. Vivian said some of the corpses…some were too badly charred to…you know.”
I closed my eyes. So many. “I’ve never killed anyone in my life. Not until now.”
“I know, guy. It was a mistake. You were on Chroma, you—”
“No,” I said. “I’d do it again if I had to.”
“What?”
My head pounded, but I took a breath and forced myself to speak anyway. “I hate what I did, and I gotta live with it. But what the hell good is some moral code if you let the people you care about die?”
Desmond didn’t seem to have an answer for that. Sticking to what you believed in was the easy bit. Having to abandon all that…
“I guess the cops will be dropping by to arrest me soon,” I said.
“You remember my offer, the one I made when you showed up at my place? It still stands, guy. There’s my car keys.” He pointed to the little table beside my hospital bed. “Maybe I’ll leave them here while I go have a coffee. Maybe my car will be gone when I get back.”
“Stolen by some dastardly fugitive?”
“Sounds about right.”
I thought about it for a moment. A long moment. There would be walls if I stayed, lawyers and courts and probably a box for me to spend the rest of my life in.
I shook my head. “Thanks, but no. I got a promise to keep.”
“Miles—”
“Is Tania around?”
“I don’t know if you’ll get a chance to talk to her. Apparently, her mother has taken a disliking to you.”
“Can’t imagine why. I’m such a charmer.”
He grinned and stood up. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thanks for everything, Des. Really.”
“Someone’s gotta keep you out of trouble.” He raised a hand and left me alone.
I settled back in my bed and closed my eyes. I felt like a truck had driven over me then reversed. I doubted I’d be getting out of this hospital in a hurry. Maybe the cops would be kind enough to wait until I was a bit healthier before they started in with the handcuffs and the interrogations.
I could hear nurses and patients shuffling past on the other side of my privacy curtain, but none of them came to visit. I wondered if any of them had any idea how much their world had been changed.
I pictured the new Tunnel I created in Andrews’ mansion. I could still feel the animalness of that energy pulsing through me, throbbing in time with the spider-dogs’ screams. I wondered if I was the only person who felt that. If there had been any decent Tunnelers within a mile or two, they might have picked up on it. Even if they hadn’t, it wouldn’t be long before knowledge of it leaked out. Information like that never wants to remain secret.
In one reckless, idiotic moment, I’d changed everything we knew about Tunneling. There were more dimensions than Heaven’s universe and ours, there was no denying it now. Who knew how many? I was feeling an awful lot like Pandora right now, holding an open box and wondering who I could blame this on.
I stopped pondering long enough to remember the crumpled envelope in my hand. It wasn’t sealed, so I lifted the flap. The letter written was short and written in Vivian’s barely-readable handwriting.
/> Mr. Franco,
I’m not sure why I’m writing this. I guess I felt I owed you some explanation. And an apology, I guess. Your friend Desmond told me what you did to try to save me and stop the gang war. You risked your life. Thank you.
But damn it, Miles, you nearly destroyed everything we worked for. I can’t forgive you for that. Not yet. I can’t comprehend the destruction you left.
I won’t deny that I am angry with you. Still, you were pulled into this mess against your will, and I’m responsible for that. For that, if nothing else, I’m sorry.
It’s best if we don’t speak again until after the state prosecutor has decided what charges to lay against you. But I’ll make sure he knows the truth. Perhaps then we can meet and talk about what happened.
Until then, Mr. Franco.
Vivian
I read through the letter two more times, trying to make sense of it. Christ, why did women have to be so complicated? Did she hate me, or was she grateful? It made my head hurt just trying to untangle the meaning from her words.
I was considering getting some code-breakers to have a go on it when something moved out of the corner of my eye. “Hi, Miles.”
I looked up to find Tania standing over me. She had bags under her eyes, but a cautious smile softened her face. I returned the letter to its envelope and stuffed it under my pillow along with my empty beer bottle. Hell of a role model I was.
“Hey kid. How you feeling?”
“Way better than you look.” She smiled and took a seat beside the bed. “Desmond said you wanted to talk. Mom will kill me if she finds me here.”
I smiled despite the pain it sent shooting through my cheeks. “This won’t take long. I got something for you. Not here, though. You can still get into my apartment?”
She nodded.
“There’s a box of books under my bed—”
“Ew, Miles, I don’t want to know about your nudie mags.”
“They’re textbooks!” I said, a little louder than I intended. Tania giggled. Christ, it was good to see her laughing.
I smiled again in spite of myself, took a breath, and continued. “My old Tunneling textbooks. You still want to learn, right? Before we get started, I want you to take them home and read them all. Cover to cover, understand?”
Her face lit up like the world’s tackiest Christmas tree. “You’re really going to teach me?”
“Hell, someone’s got to, right?”
She threw her arms around me, making me hurt in places I’d forgotten I had. “Thank you, thank you!”
“Easy, kid,” I said through gritted teeth. “I’m fragile.”
She pulled herself off me and grinned sheepishly. “I don’t have to be respectful or anything now that you’re my teacher, do I?”
“Just don’t start calling me Mr. Franco.” I rearranged my tubes and lay back down. “All right, get lost before your mom realizes where you’ve got to. Remember, kid, cover to cover.”
She nodded once more, beaming, and practically skipped away. I watched her go, the smile still on my face. She’d be all right now.
I closed my eyes. When I got better, I had a lot of amends to make, a lot of pieces of a broken life to put back together. But that could wait. Even assholes needed sleep.
My dreams were thick with fire and guilt, but that was all right. I couldn’t remember them when I woke.
THE END
CONTINUE THE STORY...
Miles’ story continues in his next adventure, The Man Who Walked in Darkness. If you think Miles had a hard time here, you ain’t seen nothing yet. Find The Man Who Walked in Darkess in your favourite online bookstore to start reading immediately.
THE MAN WHO WALKED IN DARKNESS (MILES FRANCO #2)
Miles is back for another round of hardboiled pulp action in the two-fisted sequel to The Man Who Crossed Worlds.
Freelance Tunneler Miles Franco is having a bad time of it. He’s facing a trial that could see him spend the rest of his days in prison. Hallucinations of dead men haunt him day and night. And to top it all off, one of his bandmates has been poisoned by a toxin from another world.
Miles doesn’t take kindly to people killing his friends. Now he’ll have to walk the darkest road he’s ever been down. With corrupt corporations on one side and fanatical interdimensional gangsters on the other, he doesn’t hold out any hope he’ll come out of this alive. But he has a promise to keep.
And Miles will burn every last world to the ground if it gets him answers.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Chris Strange discovered at an early age that he was completely unsuited to life among normal human beings. After experimenting with several different career paths, he said to hell with it and went back to writing, his first love.
Chris is the author of DON'T BE A HERO and the Miles Franco series of hard-boiled urban fantasy novels, beginning with THE MAN WHO CROSSED WORLDS. He writes for the daydreamers, the losers, the cynics and the temporarily insane. His stories are full of restless energy and driven by a passion for the unorthodox. He loves writing characters on the fringe of society: the drifters, the knights errant, the down-and-out.
In his spare time, Chris is an unapologetic geek, spending far too long wrapped up in sci-fi books, watching old kaiju movies and playing video games. He lives in the far away land of New Zealand, and is currently working towards a Master’s degree in Forensic Science.
He doesn’t plan on growing up any time soon.
Chris also writes crime and noir fiction as Harry St. John. You can find Harry’s website here.
Contact Chris at: [email protected]
If you would like to receive an email whenever Chris releases a new book, sign up for the New Release Email List here: https://bit.ly/StrangeList
www.Chris-Strange.com
OTHER BOOKS FROM CHEEKY MINION
DON’T BE A HERO
Chris Strange
It's a bad time to be a superhero.
When the world turned its back on metahumans, the golden age of superheroes came crashing down. But now a mysterious supercriminal is making one final bid for power, and with no one else left to protect the world, ex-hero Spook must risk everything to take him down. There will be no reprieve, no negotiation. War is coming.
Put on the mask. There's work to be done.
Chris Strange presents a stunning, no-holds-barred superhero adventure that will lure you in and knock you out. This is the novel superhero fans have been waiting for.
AVAILABLE NOW
~~~
LEAVE HER HANGING
Harry St. John
Ella Lewis is dead. Someone must pay.
“I loved Ella. Now she’s a corpse, cooling off in the morgue with a noose-shaped bruise around her neck. The cops say it’s suicide. It wasn’t suicide. I don’t know who killed her, and I don’t know why. But I’m going to find out, no matter what it takes. And when I’m face-to-face with the man who broke my world, I’m going to break him.”
In this tough-as-nails noir crime novel set in Auckland’s dark underbelly, 17-year-old Jack “Spade” Miller must traverse a web of violence, love, and illicit sex in his search for justice.
Only one thing is guaranteed: no one is walking away unscathed.
AVAILABLE NOW
ALSO BY CHRIS STRANGE
Miles Franco Urban Fantasy
The Man Who Crossed Worlds (Miles Franco #1)
The Man Who Walked In Darkness (Miles Franco #2)
The Man Who Lost Everything (Miles Franco #3)
Heroes of the Atomverse
Don’t Be a Hero
Kaiju Thriller
Mayday: A Kaiju Thriller
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