Wyrmhole: Jack Stein #1 New Edition

by Jay Caselberg

  Jack listened, scanning for any sign of actual real life, hidden somewhere in the midst of the sound of the dying buildings. He reoriented himself, seeking a direction that felt right, but couldn't find one. He'd let his instinct guide him. Let’s see just how lucky you are, Stein, he thought. At random, he picked a building and headed toward it.

  TEN

  Jack stepped warily within the creaking walls. This was his third attempt, and he didn't know how many more likely buildings there were. Inwardly he knew, rationally, that a random chunk of the building's structure wasn't about to come crashing down on his head, but it didn't feel right. The whole building seemed to protest with every step he took. Not residential — this one had been an office complex. The whole layout was wrong for habitation. No longer offices, now gloom and shadows inhabited the empty spaces instead.

  A flicker of movement off to one side and he stopped in mid step, holding his breath, listening. Come on Jack, get a grip. Ever since that time in the military when he’d been captured, locked away in a subterranean cell with nothing but his imagination to paint bizarre pictures on the inside of his eyes, he’d developed a thing about dark places that had stayed with him. He still didn’t like dark places, but thoughts of Billie were spurring him on. Perhaps somewhere in this maze of sad decay lay the pointer to where she might be.

  Another slight movement, and this time the sound of something scraping on the floor. He whirled as a figure materialized in the vast doorway off to his right.

  "What do you want here, New Man?"

  As Jack's eyes adjusted, he could make out a figure, leaning nonchalantly against one of the pillars flanking the entranceway. Details slipped into place. It was a kid. He wore a dark suit in the old style. Old, old style. Fashion usually ran in cycles of about twenty years, but that style of clothing was decades old.

  "You look like a New Man," said the boy. "What do you want down here in Old, New Man?"

  Jack hesitated. There was something slightly strange about the kid's speech as if blurred by the barely disguised traces of an accent. Now Jack could see better, more details were falling into place. The kid's hair was cut old style too, close, cropped to the lines of his skull. What was he worried about? This was just a kid after all. Wasn't it? For a moment, he wasn't sure.

  "I'm looking for a friend," said Jack.

  The kid pushed himself from the pillar and strolled across the intervening floor space, his hands clasped behind his back.

  "A friend, eh?" he said as he neared, looking Jack up and down. He did a circuit, walking right around the spot where Jack stood, all the time subjecting him to scrutiny.

  Finally, he stopped in front and stood, hands still clasped behind his back like an old man.

  "And what sort of friend are you looking for?" he said quietly. "A boy friend or a girl friend?"

  Snatches of a dream voice floated in Jack's inner ear. I want your girlfriend. The kid started walking again.

  “Hmmm, New Man? What is your fancy? A boy friend or a girl friend?”

  "Neither. Just a friend. A particular friend. Maybe you know her."

  The kid stopped his circuit and peered up into Jack's face. He subjected Jack to a look that bored right through him.

  "And why would you think that?" he asked, his eyes never wavering. And then he started pacing again. Around and around. It was starting to get on Jack's nerves.

  "She said she had some friends in Old."

  The voice came from behind him this time. "Maybe we could arrange something. It depends."

  Jack had had enough. He spun and grabbed the kid by his jacket and drew him close so they were face to face. "It depends on what?"

  "Nuh-uh," said the kid, pulling his jacket free with a wrench and smoothing it down with his hands. He looked up and gave a shake of his head and a knowing smile. "You won't get anything that way."

  Too much familiarity there and the familiarity hurt. However old this kid was, he’d seen too much for his years. It immediately put him in mind of Billie.

  "Dammit," spat Jack from between closed teeth, feeling slightly ashamed for trying to monster the kid. "I'm looking for a friend, that's all. Either you can help me or you can't. Perhaps I can persuade you." He reached into a pocket to retrieve his handipad and the kid took a hasty step backward, glancing warily from side to side, making sure of his escape route.

  "I wouldn't do that if I were you, New Man," he said quietly and followed it with a long, low whistle through his teeth.

  "But I was just ... "

  There were other noises from beyond the shadowed gloom. Then Jack could see figures clustered in the archway, and others back behind the kid.

  "Daman, you okay," said a voice from the doorway — young, like the kid's, but somehow hard. There was the sound of metal scraping along a wall or floor; he couldn't tell.

  "It's okay," Jack said holding his hands out and slowly, carefully he reached in and withdrew the handipad from his pocket. "I was just going to see if I could make it worth your while to help me out." He thumbed the handipad on, looking for the kid's reaction.

  The kid lifted a hand, palm toward the vast doorway. "Cold hard credits. We like numbers, New Man. Now you're talking our language," he said. His face was still hard. "Who's your friend? Perhaps we can work something out after all ... or, even better, find someone who might be even more to your taste. Sometimes you make discoveries down here in Old — discoveries that might surprise you."

  "No, listen kid — Daman, if that's what you call yourself — you've got it wrong. This really is about a friend. Her name's Billie."

  Daman looked thoughtful and then suspicious. "Billie, eh? And what's she to you? You a relative or something? We sometimes get relatives down here, or people who say they're relatives."

  "No, not a relative. Nothing like that. She's staying with me." Jack was aware of the shadowy forms lurking in the doorway just out of his sight. He didn't want to let on about the trouble. "Do you know her?"

  Daman was silent for a long time. Finally, he seemed to make up his mind. He gestured for Jack to follow, turned his back without a care, and headed toward the vast doorway. "No," he said over his shoulder. "But there's someone here who might."

  Jack set his mouth in a grim line and followed. He didn't like the implications of what he was seeing at all. The connection Billie had to this place was painfully obvious and he didn't need his gut feeling to tell him it was something uncomfortable. He was the reason Billie was down here. Maybe not originally, but certainly now. He watched Daman as he led the way. The kid's step was confident, relaxed, as if he owned the building. There was still something about him though that felt out of place. The kid just didn’t belong. Sometimes there were people like that, but Jack had come across them only rarely.

  As he moved beyond the doorway, the lurking shadows resolved themselves into shapes. About a dozen more kids stood eyeing him warily. Their ages ranged from — after Billie, Jack couldn't be sure — but they were young, all of them. Most were boys, and a couple of the older ones held lengths of metal either hefted in two hands or dangling from one hand, resting casually against the floor. That had been the scraping sound. All the kids had one thing in common — a haunted, pinched look and eyes that seemed to go on forever. It was the look Billie had worn the first time that he'd seen her. Jack suddenly felt very exposed. But that was stupid; they were only kids. Sometimes, though, kids were more than kids. He should have learned that much.

  Daman gestured and the shadowy figures slipped away with barely a sound, melting back into the darkness.

  "This way," said the kid, motioning Jack to follow.

  Across the broad expanse of floor, a large staircase swept up to the levels above, and Daman headed toward it.

  "Be very sure you know why you're here," he dropped casually over his shoulder with no further explanation. Biting back a response, Jack followed.

  The staircase didn't look like it belonged in the original building design, but it was hard to
tell in the dim light. Jack couldn't imagine that it would be functional in an office block. Perhaps in its earlier incarnation in New, it would have made more sense. It was somehow grand, but wrong. There was a lot about this place that was wrong.

  The stairs wound on and up and he mounted them one after the other, trailing Daman’s steps. After what seemed like three floors, but with no breaks in between, no landings or entranceways, they came to a stop. Daman stood above him, waiting. Another vast doorway and within, a pale glow.

  "Are you sure, New Man?" said Daman quietly as Jack reached the landing and stood beside him waiting for the next move. When Jack said nothing, Daman nodded briefly and motioned him to follow.

  An archway gaped in front of him, leading off into darkness. A faint light emanated from beyond the pillared entrance. Daman stepped through and said "Lights," then gestured for Jack to follow. "It's kind of like that," he said, "when you first step through. When you come into somewhere new. All new places are full of wonder, New Man, and there are wonders to be found here if you make the right choices."

  Huh? Jack said nothing, though he was wondering what the hell the kid was talking about. Wait and see.

  On the archway's other side lay a vast room — grander than a ballroom, and Jack let out a low whistle despite himself. Somebody had screwed with the building's programming. Shapes, figures, parts of figures, flowed over every wall — well, not exactly flowed, but they moved with a kind of sinuous life of their own. The light, now illuminating the space, came from within and above and behind them. Even the floor sparkled with a native fluorescence. As Jack watched, slowly the figures changed, shaping and reshaping themselves as he stood there transfixed, his mouth hanging stupidly open. He'd never seen anything like it. Well he had, but nothing on such a scale.

  "Who did this?" he asked. It was hard to focus on one place. Flickers of movement squirmed in the periphery of his vision, a constant distraction.

  Daman grinned. "Impressive, isn’t it? Just one of our little family. Like nothing you've seen, New Man. Like nothing you've seen. Pablo amuses himself when he's not wooorking. Sometimes we call him Artist."

  Jack clamped his jaw shut. When he's not wooorking. The words sent a chill up his spine, but it gave him an idea. He fumbled in his coat then cursed. He'd left Pinpin's card back at his apartment.

  "You have a problem?" said Daman. "All problems can be solved here."

  "What is it, Diamantis?" Another voice, this time coming from behind a clustered shape at the far end of the room. The voice was distorted, muffled by the sculpted shapes that lay around them.

  "Someone to see you," said Daman/Diamantis and motioned Jack to follow. As they neared the blocky shape toward the room's end, a figure stepped from behind the shielding form.

  "Who is it?" The speaker wore a cap turned back to front, baggy, loose-fitting clothing in nondescript colors and hands shoved deep into his pockets. He leaned casually against a piece of sculpted flooring that had taken a life of its own and risen spiraling into the air and he looked Jack over. The lean features belied the native intelligence sparking in the eyes that now observed him.

  "New Man here is looking for a friend, someone he knows."

  "So what's he doing here?"

  "Shit, Pablo, you ask him."

  "So what's your name?" said the boy called Pablo.

  "Jack. Jack Stein."

  "Well, Jack, Jack Stein, what brings you here?"

  Jack looked the new kid over before speaking. This Pablo seemed to speak with some authority, and Daman had clearly deferred to him.

  "A friend of mine left a message for me, saying I should meet up with her here."

  "A friend, huh?"

  "Yes, a friend. Do I have to go through this crap again?"

  Pablo looked at Daman, who shrugged, and then spoke without making eye contact with Jack.

  "Why would this friend ask you to meet her here?" He stood where he was, not looking at Jack, but rather at the animate floor, waiting for the answer.

  Jack hesitated, but then realized there was no point trying to make up some tale. "I don't know. She said something about having spent some time down here. Maybe she knows some of you. I don't know. You tell me. Her name's Billie."

  Pablo narrowed his eyes. "Hmm, I might just know a Billie. She's not here though. She hasn't been here for a long time."

  Jack suppressed a frustrated sigh. He could spend the rest of the night standing here going around in circles with these two.

  "Okay. She's not here. She hasn't been here. Maybe you might be able to tell me where she might be ... where she might go. I don't care what the hell you do down here. All I'm interested in is Billie."

  The kid called Pablo pursed his lips, let his gaze rove over Jack's face, then looked away. The silence dragged on, punctuated only by the moans and creaks of the building itself. Finally, Pablo slowly shook his head. "No, Jack, Jack Stein. I don't think we can help you."

  Jack spoke from between closed teeth. "But there are other people you can help, right? People like Pinpin Dan. People like his friends. Is that right?"

  It had the desired effect. Pablo gave a barely disguised intake of breath. His eyes were narrowed.

  "What exactly is it you want with this Billie?" he asked slowly. His gaze flickered to Daman and back again.

  Round and round. Jack bunched his fists in his coat pocket and in doing so, his hand came into contact with the bottle which in his rush from the apartment, he'd forgotten to remove. The touch was electric. His spine stiffened. An image of Pinpin Dan floated up in his head, his long face looming close as they sat together on the shuttle. Then just as quickly it was gone. Jack felt the blood drain from his face. The sensation had been too strong. And then he was back in the vast room, the ever-changing shapes moving around him.

  "Are you okay?" asked the boy, Pablo. He was peering at Jack's face.

  "Yeah, yeah. I'm fine." He paused for breath. "Listen, Pablo. Maybe you don't want to tell me about Billie, but tell me about Pinpin Dan."

  "Who are you, Jack Stein? What are you looking for?"

  Daman, who up until this point had been maintaining his position outside of Jack's direct line of sight, stepped forward to stand beside his companion. There was hostility on his face and he looked suddenly older. Much older. Jack could sense movement behind him, and it was more than the walls and ceiling. Jack slowly drew his hands from his pockets.

  "Look," he said. "I'm a P.I. — I’m working on something, that's all. I know Pinpin Dan from way back. We used to work together a long time ago. That's how I know Billie."

  There was a curl on Daman’s lips speaking of something deeper. "And...?"

  "And nothing. That's it. Billie was staying with me. She left me a message. That's why I'm here."

  There was a definite sneer on Daman’s face now.

  "She was staying with you."

  Jack was already telling the kid too much and he was clearly racing to conclusions Jack didn't want him to reach. Some of Daman’s companions were a lot bigger.

  "Look, you've got it wrong. It's not like that." Suddenly he knew he didn't have a choice. Quickly he gave them a summary of the events leading up to his journey to Old. Sometimes it paid off, acting the tough guy, but he wasn't stupid. These kids were hard enough, world-weary enough that it'd just roll right off them.

  Pablo moved back behind the sculpted shape he'd appeared from and sat leaving Jack standing there with Daman staring at him with cold hard eyes, and who knew how many others behind. Daman took a step forward and then started a slow circuit, his gaze fixed on Jack's face. Again, he clasped his hands behind him as he walked. Around and around, and then finally he spoke. "It's a nice story, New Man. So, you're telling me this Pinpin Dan's dead. That somebody killed him. What do you think, Pablo?"

  Jack started to protest. "It's not a —"

  "Sssst!" Diamantis stopped his circuit and lifted one finger to silence him. "Pablo?"

  "Could be, Daman. You?"

/>   "Nuh-uh. I don't like it. You must think we're fools, New Man." Jack bit the inside of his lip and decided he'd wait. He didn't have long. Daman shook his head, a disappointed look on his face and circled one finger in the air.

  The first blow caught Jack across the back and drove him to his knees. While he was still trying to work out what was happening, there was a second, and then ... dark pain flew down to cover his awareness.

  oOo

  "Fresh ground coff—" Bump.

  "Fresh ground coff—" Bump.

  "Fresh ground coff—" Bump.

  Jack struggled upward through the fog of hurt thumping in his head. Something was nudging his leg with annoying repetitiveness. He winced as he levered open his eyes. Light wasn't good. Not right now.

  "Fresh ground coff—" Bump.

  It was the damaged advertising drone, or one just like it. Jack kicked out at it futilely and clamped his teeth together as the sudden motion pushed more thumping pain into the back of his head. He struggled to his feet and stood there wavering for a moment. The drone, without a leg to impede its progress, skittered off down the street, making contact with a wall, bouncing off, then continuing on its way. Still the upbeat voice went on: "Fresh ground coff—". Jack leaned against the wall for support as the drone's voice faded cheerfully into the shadows at the dark end of Old.

  He hurt. He hurt all over. They must have dragged him out onto the street after they'd finished with him. Maybe putting in a few extra kicks for good measure. Not a good result, Stein. Not good at all. What was he coming to? They'd only been kids. He supposed it could have been worse. He ran his tongue around the inside of his mouth, checking for further damage, but they seemed to have left his face intact. Gingerly probing the back of his head with his fingers, he found their attention had not been quite so gentle. A large lump had already formed. He prodded at it and winced.