“Okay?” the others said in unison.
“Okay.” Jordan set his glass down on the window sill. “So, which one of you retards killed the redhead kid?”
For the first few moments, the room was silent. Hector shot a worried glance at Carlos, who looked back at him with a mirror of his own expression. Jordan scanned the group with a hard stare.
“Boys, I ain’t here to be jerked around. I promise that I will not kill or cripple you if you confess.” He said flatly, as though he were asking for a glass of water.
The room was still silent. Carlos and Hector broke out into cold sweats. Phil didn’t have much of a reaction. He just kept playing with his dead cat.
“Okay then.” Jordan said. He walked over to his desk, and pulled out a small pistol. He turned around and quickly fired it at the ceiling. The shot was loud, and echoed through the room. A small hole had formed on the ceiling.
The gang leader’s calm flat face had turned red and livid. Everyone jumped. Phil stopped playing with the cat.
“Now I’m gonna count to three, and-”
“I did it!” Hector and Carlos said in unison. Jordan lowered his gun, and approached them.
“You two did this?” He asked, gesturing at them with the gun. The boys nodded nervously. “By yourselves?”
“No.” Hector said, his head hanging in shame.
“Who else was there?”
They were again silent. To them it didn’t feel right to rat out their friends; even if it was to their leader.
Jordan stomped his foot on the ground, and pointed his gun at Carlos.
“Who the fuck else was there?”
Carlos immediately blurted out the names of the other four people who’d been with him and Hector when they’d killed the redhead. Jordan looked around the room. Of the four people Carlos mentioned, the only one there was Phil.
He still sat on the floor, holding his dead cat. Jordan walked over to him.
“Philip.” Jordan said.
“Y-yeah?” the brute’s brow furrowed with worry.
“Stand up.”
The brute obeyed.
The gang leader looked down at the corpse that Phil cradled in his arms. He was no longer pointing his gun at anyone. The arm that held it simply hung at his side.
“Give me that cat.” Jordan said.
“But…but it’s my cat.” Phil pouted.
“Give me the fucking cat!” Jordan yanked it from Phil’s arms. It hung limply in his hand. The brute looked like he was on the verge of tears.
“Now, Philip.” Jordan had put his gun in his belt, and wrapped both his hands around the tail of the cat.
“Yes?”
Jordan smacked Phil in the head with the cat. A cracking sound could be heard, as the corpse’s skull was fractured.
“How many fucking times have I told you to stop bringing road kill into my fucking apartment?!”
“I’m sorry.” Tears were streaming down Phil’s face. He lifted his arms up to shield his face.
“You’re damn right you’re sorry!” Jordon continued his assault with the dead cat. More useless bones broke as the cat was smashed repeatedly into Phil’s body. Carlos and Hector winced, and turned away from the horrific sight. The others in the room did their best to ignore the pain-filled screams and sickening whacking sound.
After about fifteen good hits, Jordan stopped. The cat was now shaped less like an animal, and more like an old black rag. Its broken bones could be seen bulging out of its furry skin. Its eyeballs were bloodshot, and its ears were bent.
Phil lay curled up on the floor crying. Jordan walked over to the window. He opened it, and threw the dead cat out the window. He closed the window just before the “splat” sound, as the carcass hit the cement sidewalk below.
Jordan turned back to Carlos and said, “When you see the other three, tell them what I’m about to tell you.”
Carlos nervously nodded. Jordan picked back up his glass from the window sill. He downed what was left, before joining the others. He sat down on his couch. He looked over at the whimpering form of Phil.
“Get the fuck up.” He said. Phil slowly began to wipe the tears from his eyes, and got up. Once the bald brute had taken a chair, Jordan began.
“The redhead was Donnie Thomas.” Jordan said. A chill began to spread through the room.
“Thomas?” One of the boys in the room gulped. “Like, Colin Thomas.”
“Donnie was Colin’s little brother.” Jordan said. They all fell silent. Colin Thomas was the leader of the New Chicago Handis. Just like Jordan, he was a stubborn, violent, charismatic man, with dozens of excitable young men under his command. He wasn’t the kind of guy you wanted to fuck with.
Hector doubted that Colin and Donnie were actually related. But it wasn’t unusual for some of these gang bosses to have a favorite guy under their command. Colin probably saw himself as a big brother figure to Donnie. He might’ve gotten very attached and protective of this boy, and that wouldn’t be good for them.
“They don’t know he’s dead yet, just that he’s missing.” Jordan said. “He’s got his boys searching the city. But they’ll find out soon enough.”
Hector felt like he could throw up. He looked over at Carlos, and could see the color drain from his face.
“What are we going to do?” asked one of the other guys there.
“Well, normally, for such a catastrophic fuck up, I’d beat the shit out of every single one of you.” Jordan said. He sounded more tired than angry. Hector guessed it was a combination of the alcohol, and his own fear. Wailing on Phil with the cat might also have helped to relieve some of the stress. “But we don’t have that kind of time right now.
“Rumors that we’ve killed him are already spreading all over town. Colin is going to retaliate. I can’t say exactly when, but we probably only have two or three days at the most. That’s why we’re going to make the first move.”
Everyone in the room looked at him. Jordon stood up from his chair, and walked over the desk in the corner. He pulled a photograph and a large piece of paper from the desk, and walked back over to the boys in their chairs.
“How many of you have ever seen the Handi’s building?” Jordan asked, holding up the photograph. On it, they could see the picture of a dilapidated five-story apartment building, like the one they stood in.
Everyone in the room nodded; none of them had ever been stupid enough to get too close to that building. It was after all, right in the heart of Handi territory. But they’d seen it at a distance, and occasionally on the news.
“We’re going in the day after tomorrow.” Jordan said. He had an evil smirk on his face. “We’re going to raid the building, exterminate them like cockroaches, and carry out as much stuff as we can.”
“This is crazy.” One of the boys in the room blurted out. Jordan glared at him. His eyes narrowed, and the boy looked down.
“Stop being a bitch.” Jordan said. “We don’t have a choice. The moment Colin realizes we killed his brother; he’s going to throw everything he’s got at us. We’re in for a crazy fucking time no matter what we do. But at least if we strike first, we’ll have the element of surprise, and some of us might actually fucking live.”
“But-”
“Listen.” Jordan stood up. He put his hand on the butt of the gun in his belt. “You can either die in this room, or you can listen to my plan, and maybe live.”
The gang member shut up, and Jordan was allowed to continue. He unrolled the large piece of paper; it was the blueprints for the Handi building. With a piece of duct tape, he stuck the blueprint to the wall. He went over his plan; how they’d get in, how many people would be in the building, how many guys they’d need for this to work, where they’d meet, that kind of stuff.
“One quick thing I need all of us to look out for is this.” Jordan pulled another photograph out of his pocket. It was picture of a perfectly smooth, gray cube, sitting in a dark room, surrounded by armed guards. “This is a secu
rity cube. This picture of it was taken three weeks ago, at the first National Bank of New Chicago. Two weeks ago, the Handis stole it. We think it’s at their building, probably on the top floor in Colin’s room. The cube is loaded with ten million dollars.”
The eyes of the Plasmids assembled in the room went wide. Jordan taped the picture to the wall.
“Not one of you is to touch this thing.” Jordan said. “This money is going to be for the gang. We’ve been running low on supplies, and this money can help out. If any of you find it, you are to give it to me immediately. Other than that, you can keep whatever you find. Any cash, guns, drugs, or whatever you may find, you can keep. But this cube belongs to me. Anyone who forgets that gets my foot up their ass. Understand?”
Everyone nodded. Jordan turned back to the blueprints, and began to go over a few more details of the plan. Hector didn’t pay much attention. He just kept staring at the photo of the gray security cube.
“You want to steal it.” Carlos said. He and Hector were walking to the McDonald’s down the street from the apartment building. Jordan’s briefing had left everyone shaken, and they’d all decided to go chill out.
“What are you talking about?” Hector said. They’d just gotten to the restaurant; the automatic sliding doors opened for them.
“Don’t act like I’m fucking stupid.” Carlos said. “I saw the way you were staring at the picture of the box. You looked like a junkie eyeing a syringe.”
“So were the other guys.”
“Yeah, but they’re too stupid to see the opportunity. You’re not.” Carlos smirked. Hector didn’t say anything. They walked up to the counter, and ordered two cheeseburgers. The robot behind the counter took their money, and gave them their food. They sat down at a booth.
“The only thing that confuses me is why you’d take the risk. You’ve been pretty loyal to Jordan in the past.”
Hector was silent.
“Does it have something to do with Emma?”
Hector’s eyes went wide.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
“How did you know?”
“Last night when you came back to the building, you seemed down. Usually when you come back from a date with Emma, you’re so happy it’s actually kind of disgusting. Is she sick or something?”
“No.” Hector explained what Emma had told him.
“Has she gone to the clinic yet?”
“This was last night. I’m not sure. I don’t think so.”
“And you want to run away with her?”
Hector was silent. A smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. In his mind, he saw him and Emma in a nice house, like the kind he’d seen on reality TV shows with the spoiled rich kids. They sat curled up on a couch, watching a movie on a big flat screen TV. Their clothes were clean, and they weren’t hungry. A baby lay in Emma’s arms, drifting off to sleep. And she looked so happy.
“Do you know where you’d go?” Carlos said, taking Hector from his fantasy.
“I’m not sure.” Hector bit his lip. He’d lived his whole life on the streets of New Chicago. The idea of seriously leaving, and going somewhere better had never really crossed his mind. At least not since he was a little boy. “I just thought we’d get on bus, and keep going. Go somewhere on the coast probably. Emma’s always wanted to live by the water.”
“Which coast?”
“It doesn’t matter.” Hector said. “Just keep going until we can’t see this place in the rear-view mirror.”
“Okay.” Carlos nodded.
“Look I know it’s stupid. I didn’t think I’d really do it. It was a stupid fantasy, and I’m not going to do it.”
“Bullshit you’re not.” Carlos said.
“What?”
“You’re going to get that money, and I’m gonna help you.”
Hector was again silent. At the counter, they could both hear a homeless man begging the robot cashier for food. The robot responded by politely threatening to call the cops.
“Why?”
“Cause I hate this fucking place too.” His green robotic eyes narrowed into slits of hatred. “Jordan doesn’t appreciate my experiments. He uses everything I give him, but still bitches about how I should learn to use a gun like a ‘real man.’ That fucking idiot. He doesn’t know what he has in me. If I was part of a real criminal organization, I’d be treated like royalty.”
“A real criminal organization?” Hector cocked an eyebrow.
“Yeah, a big one. The kind they make movies out of.” Carlos said. “And not these shitty little indie movies where everyone cries. I mean the big ones, with lots of gun fights, and sex, and money and car chases.
“I’m talking Costa Nostra, Yakuza, Russian Mafia, and shit like that. They don’t deal with his petty street gang bullshit. They have operations and influence all over the country, hell all over the world. Sophisticated, refined. They’d throw me girls and money.”
“You want to join the Mafia?” Hector asked.
“I like to dream big. I’m an ambitious criminal.” Carlos smiled.
Hector scratched at the back of his neck. “You think we can do it?”
“Once we go in there, the place is going to be fucking crazy. If we’re careful, we can get the money, and get to a safe spot. From there we split it. Fifty-fifty. You go to some nice place with a beach and start a family; I get my ass to New York and hook up with the mob.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
“It’s not going to be easy.” Carlos’ smile vanished from his face. “We’re going right into the middle of Handi turf. We’re going in with a group of idiots who know which end of a gun the bullet comes out, and that’s about it. We have a leader who’s taken up drinking. It’s going to be difficult, but it’s the only thing we can do.”
“We don’t have to do it.”
“Yes we do.” Carlos sneered. “Look, this a suicide mission. If Jordan had any brains, he’d have tried to make peace with the Handis long ago. This fucking macho thug is going to get us killed.”
“If it’s so dangerous, then why don’t we just split right now?” Hector asked.
“Where the fuck would we go? We don’t have anywhere near enough money for a one-way ticket. And the city won’t be safe for us either. If the raid is successful, Jordan will use whoever he has left to find and kill us. If the raid doesn’t work, there’ll be no more Plasmid turf to protect us. We’ll have to hide from the Handis. No matter who survives this raid, we’re fucked. Trying to take that money for ourselves is the only thing that makes sense.”
“Stealing ten million dollars, disobeying a violent gang lord, and then trying to run away is the best option?” Hector said.
“In this fucked up life we lead, yes.”
Hector buried his head in his hands. His head spun. This day was getting worse and worse.
“In life, you don’t pick the cards you’re dealt. But you do pick how to play them.” Carlos said. The homeless man begging for money had already left. Outside, a cop car passed by. Hector lifted his head from his hand, and bit his lip.
Carlos held out his hand, and said, “You in?”
Hector stared at his friend’s hand for several seconds, before shaking it.
It wasn’t until later that night that Hector started to think that Carlos’ plan might actually work. Carlos had gone back to the apartment that he and Hector shared to work on some of his devices. Hector had called Emma, and said he needed to talk to her. He walked to the boarding house where she lived with other ladies of the evening.
He walked down the street with a spring in his step. The whole thing sounded wonderful. He fantasized about their new life, about how peaceful and happy it would be.
He showed up to the dilapidated boarding house, and called Emma outside. He walked her over to the side street, and told her about what he and Carlos were planning.
“Are you fucking crazy?” She said. Her eyes were wide with outrage and fear.
“I…I thought you’d
be happy.” Hector said. He felt honestly hurt.
“Happy? Happy that you and your friend are going to get yourselves killed?”
“It won’t be like that.” Hector was starting to lose his patience. “This could be a great opportunity for us.”
“No, it’s suicide.” She was on the verge of tears. “Why did you ever think this was a good idea?”
“Look, it’s not like we have a choice.” He explained that Jordan was making them do the raid, and that they might as well try to take the security box for themselves.
“You can’t do that raid, you’ll die!”
“We’re not going to die.”
“You don’t know that! You can’t risk it!”
“What can I do?” Hector was glaring at her. “It’s not like I can just tell Jordan I’m not gonna do it.”
“We could run away.”
“We don’t have the money. That’s why I need to do this.”
“But you can’t.” Her face had scrunched up. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She looked down, and rested her hands on her belly.
“It will be fine.” Hector put his arms around her. “It’s going to be fine.”
“I don’t want to lose you.” She said, crying into his shoulder.
“You won’t.” He kissed her cheek, and tasted the tears on his lips. “I’ve been in fights before, and I’ve come out okay.”
She pulled away from his shoulder. Her lips trembling, she said, “Promise me you’ll come back.”
“I swear to god, I’ll come back.”
She kissed him. He held her until she stopped crying, then he walked her back to her room in the building.
Carlos drove the old, beat-up, stolen van, toward the Handi hideout. Sitting next to him was Hector, who quietly looked out the window, watching the sidewalk as it passed by. In his lap lay an automatic machine gun that’d he used on occasion. Emma and the child she carried were all he could think of.
In between the two front seats was a dirty metal briefcase. Carlos had brought it, and filled it with water balloons that’d been filled with bomb juice. Lying next to the suitcase was an empty dart gun, like the kind they had in zoos to tranquilize the animals. Hector had asked him what it was for, and his friend just smiled and said, “You’ll see.”
Children of the Artificial Womb: A Cyberpunk Story Page 2
