Prime City: A Science Fiction Thriller (Neon Horizon Book 2)

by Michael Robertson

  “Prick.”

  The thin curtains did nothing to dilute the glow from the street. Yet, despite the glare, it took for Marcie to turn the light on before the cockroaches scattered. Each one as large as her dad’s thumb, she counted eight or nine, but there were many more, and they were now hidden all over. Her heart heavy with exhaustion, the room might have been small and infested, but at least it had two beds.

  Marcie chose the one closest to her and fell onto it, the musty reek of damp wafting up at her impact. A slight sting buzzed from where she’d been tasered on her right shoulder, but the pain had grown less intense. “I’m not staying here any longer than a week.”

  The Eye sneered as he took in the room. “Hopefully we can get out even sooner.”

  “And that’s coming from someone who’s comfortable sleeping sitting up with a corpse in their basement.”

  “Corpses don’t move as fast as cockroaches.”

  “Some people can move them on a lot quicker.”

  “You should be thankful I’m not one of them. The kind of person who can make a dead body disappear probably isn’t someone you should choose as a roommate.” The Eye shook his head. “If only I’d told you to piss off the day you came to see me.”

  Marcie sighed, the ceiling above her spiderwebbed with cracks as if it could fall in at any moment. “Who do you think Mads is?”

  “I don’t know. I’m not sure I want to find out either.”

  “I can’t imagine we’ll be able to avoid it.”

  The Eye lay down too, his words slurring from where sleep took over. “I think you’re right.”

  The screeching train shot past their window, sending a surge through Marcie’s heart. But as it vanished into the distance, lethargy took over again. “I promise you I won’t leave this place until I know you’re set.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I do, and I will.”

  “Thank you, Marcie.”

  “I got you into this mess.”

  “You know what,” the Eye said, “you didn’t. I could have said no when you asked for that information. Anyway, good night.”

  The screeching of another train flew past their window. It might have been noisy, bright, and infested with cockroaches, but at least they had a bed, and at least they were still alive. And anything had to be better than the mohawks’ watery pit. Marcie drew a deep breath and closed her eyes. On her exhale, she said, “Good night.”

  Chapter 26

  Marcie woke with an itch on her top lip. She scratched it, a cockroach running across the back of her hand. In one hard flick, she launched the thing across the room. It hit the far wall with a light tick and fell to the floor. No doubt it went to hide with the army of the fuckers waiting to crawl over her the next time she slept.

  Her head still thick from where she hadn’t fully woken, she sat up so quickly it made her dizzy. “Urgh,” she muttered, the cold light of day hammering home the reality of their current situation. The grimy room with the damp-stained walls. The threadbare carpet, blue and covered in dark patches from previously spilled fluids. Best not to know what those fluids were. The bed soft and uneven from where parts of it had broken with age. It sagged the most in the middle. The bedding as stained and grimy as everything else in the place. Yet, in spite of it all, last night had been one of the best night’s sleep she’d ever had. No other days in her life had been as long and exhausting as yesterday. Except for the day her mum died.

  The room’s dust and damp clogged Marcie’s nose, so she breathed through her mouth. The thunder of a train flew past the window on her left.

  The screeching of metal a few seconds later woke the Eye. He groaned while sitting up and holding his head. A cockroach ran across his face, but he didn’t seem to notice.

  Marcie fought to suppress the cold chill snapping through her at the sight of the vile insect. “Morning.”

  “I don’t do mornings.”

  “You’re one of them, are you?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  The volatility in his scrunched brow warned her to tread lightly. She shrugged. “A night owl.”

  “I’ve had to be. Most of my work in the Blind Spot had to be done in the evenings.”

  Still dressed in her clothes from yesterday, Marcie got out of bed. “So we need a computer?”

  “Any laptop will do. I should be able to work with that.”

  “And we need food.” Marcie rubbed her rumbling stomach.

  “Right.”

  “We also need a way out of this shithole and into Prime City to get you set up and get Sal some lungs.” Before the Eye replied, she added, “And we need to do it all in the next week because I’ll be damned if I’m paying for any more time in this place.” Something shot across the carpet on her right. She only caught a glimpse of it in her peripheral vision. If she could find bug repellant, she’d get that too. Although with these cockroaches, landmines would probably be most effective. Landmines and napalm.

  Marcie got out of bed and stretched. “Well, I’m not a night owl.”

  A roll of his eyes, the albino man said, “Great, the perfect roommate.”

  “My point is, I might as well get up and work out how we can get into Prime City and let you rest.” Marcie stood up and tugged on the window closest to her. It had been jammed shut. Dirt streaked the pane, but not enough to prevent her seeing through. She jumped back when another train flew past just metres from where she stood. It shook the building, the now familiar screech winding her shoulders into her neck. “You’ll stay here, will you?”

  The Eye had already lain back down, his hands over his face. “Yep.”

  “I’ll see you soon, then.” Marcie slipped her shoes on and left the room.

  The fat and grimy landlord remained in his booth as if he hadn’t moved from the previous night. The bags beneath his eyes were fuller, his pupils more dilated. When had he last slept? His shutter open again, Marcie said, “There’s cockroaches in that room.”

  He slammed the shutter closed.

  “Useless bastard,” Marcie muttered, then raised her voice. “Don’t think I’ll be letting you keep my deposit.” She stepped out into the fresh and bright winter morning.

  The road out the front might have been the main street running through the Black Hole. She didn’t know the place well enough to tell, but the dense pack of people—all of them still busting a gut in their keenness to get wherever they were going—suggested they were at least staying in a popular part of town.

  Too many targets flashed up in Marcie’s vision for her to process them all. Amber circles turning green, some turning red. They came to life and died again, the crowd becoming threatening and then not. Of all the targets around her, the police drone stood prominent among them as it cruised through the sky.

  Marcie descended the stairs at the front of the hotel and joined the busy street.

  Slamming into the people she passed, neither Marcie nor the other people commented. No time for manners in a place like this. The many neon signs remained illuminated. At least half of them were unrecognisable. An apple, a house, a wasp … God knew what they were advertising.

  Luminous graffiti lined the walls of the otherwise dark alleys, giving them a spectral glow. Tags and scrawls, but one or two of them were works of art. One—a large mural about three metres tall and five metres wide—showed a huge boot made from illuminated towers, stamping down on the neon streets of the Black Hole. Another one appeared to be by the same artist, and it showed closed doors, scores of impoverished people pressed up against them by a dense crowd all desperate to move forward. Those at the front were being squeezed through to the city beyond like toothpaste. Maybe it represented the barrier between the Black Hole and Prime City.

  Something shifted in a doorway. Marcie’s eyes pinned a red circle to it. The short boy stepped into the light. He wore a black jacket like the gang she and the Eye had run into the previous evening. One of the younger ones, the boy cou
ldn’t have been any older than eight. His face was dirty, making his already dark skin darker. His hair hung in matted dreadlocks. He watched Marcie pass through narrowed eyes.

  The rectangular plastic card in her pocket, Marcie ran her fingers around its edge and dived back into the crowd. Who knew how many of the gang members watched her at that moment?

  A shorter alleyway up ahead on Marcie’s right, it led to a plaza filled with market stalls. The hiss of cooking meat, the smell making her stomach rumble. If there were any more black jackets around, they hid themselves well. She’d deal with them if needed, but it would be better to keep a low profile. She’d only fight when she had no other option. She ducked down the short alley.

  A man stepped from a doorway. He loomed over Marcie, at least a foot taller than her. Slim and spindly, arachnid in his movement, he spread his legs wider, invading her space while smiling a toothless grin. “You’re a pretty one, aren’t you?” As he leaned closer, he brought the smell of damp and vomit with him, forcing Marcie back a step.

  The man laughed a throaty cackle. “Don’t worry. I don’t bite.” He winked. “Unless you want me to.”

  “I’m sixteen, you pervert!”

  He raised his eyebrows, his grin stretching wider. “My clients would love you.”

  Marcie stabbed the toe of her boot into the man’s shin with a sharp kick driven by her cybernetics. His bone popped with a crack! The man screamed and collapsed as his standing leg buckled beneath him. Very few people paid the incident much attention, but the kid with the black jacket and dreadlocks had followed her. While the old pervert cried on the ground, she fixed on the boy. Hopefully he’d seen it as a lucky shot rather than a hidden power. After all, the old man looked like he’d be as brittle as a twig. And if the kid had any brains, he’d recognise the warning to back the fuck off. Despite scowling at him, the boy remained fixed on her. He’d clearly been tasked to monitor her movements.

  The alley might have been quiet, but the bustling plaza on the other side had as many people in it as the street she’d left behind. Food being the main trade in the square, the hiss of hotplates drove the scent of cooking meats and spices into the air. For a second time, Marcie’s stomach rumbled.

  The first person she approached cooked a chicken and vegetable stir-fry. A larger woman, she had a maternal smile on her kind face until Marcie said, “How much for a portion?”

  Taken over with the ruthless streak of a negotiator, her demeanour turned frosty. “What do you have to offer?”

  “I want to buy a portion of chicken. Maybe two.”

  The woman frowned at her. “Buy?”

  “How else do people get food here?”

  “We trade. Very few people pay for anything in the Black Hole. It’s not a credit-less society, but it might as well be.”

  “Well, I have credits.”

  “In that case, each portion is two hundred credits.”

  “What? Are you insane?”

  The kid in the black jacket appeared and pulled on Marcie’s arm. She snapped away from his grip. “What do you want, and why are you following me?”

  “Come over here.”

  “So your lot can try to rob me again?”

  “No. The gang will leave you alone.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because Mads sent me to keep an eye on you. You’re protected now.”

  “I keep hearing about this Mads character.”

  The chef had been listening in, the mention of Mads softening her demeanour.

  This time, when the boy tugged on Marcie’s arm, she let him lead her away. “I’m here to show you around.”

  “Who’s Mads?”

  “I’m not allowed to tell you that.”

  “What?”

  “We can only use his name. Anyone found talking about him beyond that don’t fare well, so please don’t ask me again.”

  “What’s his interest in me?”

  “I can’t say anything else about him.”

  “So what use are you?”

  “I’m here to help you get acquainted with the Black Hole.”

  “Why’s it called that?”

  “Because people in here get forgotten about. They arrive with the hope of getting into Prime City—my guess is that’s why you and the Eye are here.”

  “How do you know the Eye?”

  “Is that why you’re here?”

  Marcie shrugged.

  “Well, I’m here to make sure you don’t get ripped off … or killed.”

  “I could have done with you last night when I was finding somewhere to stay.”

  “Yes, you could have. So what do you need?”

  “Food.”

  “And you want to pay credits?”

  “Yeah.”

  The boy led Marcie back to the chicken stall. “She’ll pay you fifteen credits for two portions.”

  “What?” The woman placed her hands on her hips. “Are you trying to put me out of business?”

  “Cut the crap, yeah?”

  “Twenty!” the woman said.

  The boy turned to Marcie, who shrugged again. He said, “Sure.”

  Once the woman had given her two boxes, the heat from the food inside making them hard to hold, the boy took one. “I’ll get this delivered to the Eye.”

  “How can I trust you?”

  The boy handed the box back to the woman. “This needs to be delivered.”

  The woman placed the hot cardboard box inside a larger sealed box. It had a small digital screen that read Do not eat if seal broken. Before you open this, say the name of the person who sent you the food. She then sealed an empty box and handed it to Marcie. “Whisper your name to the box so I can’t hear it.”

  Marcie covered her mouth and whispered her name.

  When the woman tried to open the box, it read Who sent this to you? Instead of answering, the woman persisted, trying to lift the lid. The box burst into flames, and she dropped it, the entire thing incinerating with a magnesium glare before it turned to ash and blew away on the wind.

  “Isn’t that a fire hazard?” Marcie said.

  The woman shook her head. “It burns cold, so it can’t set anything alight.”

  “Okay,” Marcie whispered her name to the package destined for the Eye. She turned to the boy. “Thank you for your help.”

  “Do you need anything else?”

  “A computer.”

  “No problem. Once you’ve eaten, we’ll get you one.”

  “What are you getting out of this?”

  The boy shrugged. “The black jackets work for Mads. I’m simply following his orders.”

  At some point, Marcie would meet Mads. Why else would he be sending her help? But what did he want with her? Why had he taken such an interest? And if he knew who the Eye was, surely he knew who she was too.

  Chapter 27

  Marcie sat on the bed while the Eye stared out of the dirty window at the street below. He flinched when yet another filthy train screeched past. “So he’s your mate now? You know he’s wearing a black jacket like those little shits from last night, right?”

  “Mads has told them to leave us alone now.”

  “And we should trust this Mads character, should we?”

  “I dunno. But they answer to him, so they’ll do what he says.”

  “If you trust what the kid’s saying to you.”

  “I’ve no reason not to. He got the price of our lunch down. How was it, by the way?”

  The Eye cast a glance at the box that had once contained his chicken. Two bones remained in the greasy packet.

  “Besides, the kid also got me your laptop at a good price.”

  “You call five hundred a good price?”

  “It’s miles better than where they started. Will it do what you need?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So the boy did good?”

  The Eye shrugged.

  “Look,” Marcie said, “while I have no reason not to trust the kid, it do
esn’t mean I’m not going to be wary. He’s proven helpful so far, and as long as he continues to aid me, I’ll keep him around. Also, I get the impression we’ll find out who Mads is pretty soon, whether I’m hanging out with that kid or not. He knows who you are, so my guess is he knows me. I’m also guessing he became aware of us the second we entered the Black Hole. Or soon after at least. I’m guessing the guards who let us in from the wastelands must report directly to him.”

  “That’s a lot of guesses.”

  “At present it’s all we have. All that really matters for now is as long as this kid’s helpful, I’m going to use him. I need to get into Prime City to see how much these lungs are going to cost. If I go out again, will you be able to get a message to me should the need arise?”

  “Not until I have the laptop up and running.”

  “Okay. Well, I’ll be back soon. Until then, maybe you can stand on the hotel’s doorstep and shout if you—” The screeching train cut her off. “Need me.”

  On her way out of the hotel, Marcie passed the fat landlord. Still wedged into his tiny kiosk, he smiled. Or rather, gave her his best approximation of a smile, which made him look like he had trapped wind. His eyes were also as black as night from where his pupils were even more dilated. “Where are you off to? Anywhere nice?”

  Marcie paused and frowned at him. “So you want to be friends now?”

  “You’re my guest.”

  “Didn’t stop you being a prick to us when I was handing over my hard-earned credits, did it?”

  “I’ve refunded your deposit.”

  “At least that’ll save me ripping your throat out for it at the end of the week.” Marcie left.

  The street as busy now as it had been earlier that morning, the same urgency and purpose to the diverse crowd. There were as many cybernetic enhancements here as in the Blind Spot, and if anyone even noticed Marcie’s blue glasses, no one cared enough to comment. Hopefully Prime City would be as diverse.

  The kid with the dreadlocks lacked the mania of those around him. Maybe being protected by Mads imbued an individual with the confidence to move through the Black Hole at their own pace. He’d waited where he’d said he would, leaning against a graffitied wall. The main piece showed a large wasp, venom dripping from its sting, which looked like a hypodermic needle. Its eyes were wide and bloodshot, and it weaved through the letters PC. He flicked his head up at Marcie’s approach, pulling a strand of his long dreadlocks behind his ear.