Danger’s Vice

by Amanda Carlson

  I crossed my arms, hip out, shoulder back, chin down, eyes hooded. It was my take-zero-shit pose. I’d perfected it over the years. Mimicking Bender as a young child had helped. “Nope. Try again.”

  “Well…I…needed a change of scenery, because…”

  “No.”

  “My landlord…”

  This time, I just shook my head.

  He finally bowed his shiny, slippery head in defeat. “I can’t tell you, Holly. Please trust an old man on this. If I tell you, it’ll bring you trouble. Big trouble. It’s all better left unsaid.”

  I dropped my arms and the sass. His voice had been a mix of sadness and fear. I knew that pairing well. But it was Cozzi, and I had to help him. This man had been there for me in his own way for years and years. “You know that’s not how I do things, Coz. I need to know what’s up so I can help you—”

  “Please.” His eyes would barely meet mine, his voice stressed to the breaking point. The next part came out in breathy stutters. “Don’t…don’t make me…tell you. At least not right now. Just…just…leave me and be on your way. Go, shoo, shoo.” He actually flicked his wrist, like that, in and of itself, would make me take off.

  I considered pushing the issue, but decided against it. I had no idea how many breaths Cozzi had left in him, and I didn’t want to trigger a stroke or anything like that by forcing him to do something he didn’t want to do. “Fine. You don’t have to tell me right now. But I’m getting you out of here.” I brushed by him to pick up his belongings. “Unwrap yourself from that cloth, so we can get going.” I hefted up the two heaviest bags, one of which was a duffel that I slung over my shoulder, and stepped onto the sidewalk. The other two bags were smaller. He could manage those.

  Cozzi stared at me, unmoving, like he’d never been more confused. “But…but I can’t go with you.”

  “Why not? How many times in the past have you opened your door to me? I’m pretty sure you saved my life on a few occasions.” I couldn’t take him to my residence. That would be too risky. But I had a feasible option. Ignoring Cozzi’s mystified expression as the tip of his pink tongue poked in and out of the empty spaces in his mouth, I dragged a small tech phone out of my vest pocket and depressed a button, bringing it to my lips. “Jerry, it’s Ella.” I paused, giving Lockland time to fish his phone out. “Is seventeen free? I need to use it tonight for a friend.” We always spoke in code, as anyone with an amplifier could listen in.

  Static came over the line first, then, “It’s free. Don’t know how the last guests left it, so you might have to clean it up and bring your own linen.” Lockland was telling me that he had no idea if seventeen, our safe house in The North, had been compromised, so be careful.

  “Will do.”

  Darby knew the locations of all of our safe houses. There was no way to know whether Tandor and his crew had uncovered the location of seventeen with their Babble injection, or how many of Tandor’s men had survived the confrontation last night. We were going to have to be more alert than usual for a while.

  “That’s a mighty fine unit,” Cozzi said, nodding at my phone as I tucked it back into my vest. “I had one once. Hard to come by these days.”

  Longwave radio was the only way to communicate in a world filled with iron dust. High frequency couldn’t get through, so it was a good thing there had been another option. It was too bad the meteor hadn’t been made of something less intrusive to everyday living. But there was no way to undo it. And it’d been done in spectacular fashion.

  “Let’s go, Cozzi,” I instructed. “I’m taking you to a safe place temporarily, until I can figure out what’s going on. There’s enough food and water for about a week or two. But in order to get there, you’re going to have to unwind yourself from that burial sheet.” I gestured with my shoulder toward his ridiculous outfit, because it was my only free body part. “And can you hurry it up?” Seventeen wasn’t that far off my route and, conveniently, was on the way to my cache. When Cozzi turned a particular shade of red, amplified by the silver sheen of the fabric cowled around his neck, my eyebrows rose. “Please tell me you have clothing on underneath that sheet.”

  “Well…I…”

  “Cozzi, seriously, what the hell?” When the old man looked like he might cry, I backed down. “Forget it.” I dumped the duffel on the ground and reached into a pocket for my cutter. “Ever heard of a toga?”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Hustling Cozzi through the streets, laden with his worldly possessions, wasn’t the easiest task in the world, but I’d done harder. By the time we came to a stop in front of the correct building, the old man was wheezing and huffing—and he was carrying the small stuff. I had no idea how he’d managed to lug all his belongings as far as he had to begin with, and I didn’t ask. No use stressing him out further. I had my eye on the prize—getting him to safety so I could continue my day.

  He glanced upward, shielding his eyes. Along with an expletive, he brought his gaze around to mine, his mouth dangling open, exposing the many hollow spaces lurking inside. “We can’t go in there.” His tone was resolute. When I looked nonplussed, he frantically gestured to the painted symbols on the walls, most of them indicating that harm would come to anyone who trespassed. Something that worked like a charm in The North, but was totally ignored in the canals. Seekers, to a one, didn’t stop to contemplate anything written on the wall, no matter how decorative or deadly it was. “That’s…that’s…charted territory,” he sputtered.

  The universal expression in The North for somebody else’s claim.

  “We’re going in,” I said, my tone final. I refrained from telling him it was ours. Nobody was on the street, but that didn’t mean people weren’t listening. People were always listening. When he didn’t make a move to enter, I nudged his backside. “Stop acting like a baby nibbling on his first protein cake and get your ass inside. These bags are heavy. What? Did you pack your steel-rod collection?” When Cozzi refused to move, I butted in front of him, stepping through the opening, crunching over the crap scattered on the floor.

  I headed directly to the wall in front of the internal stairway, ten meters to the left, setting down the bags once I got there. Clanking ensued. Not steel rods, but something equally as heavy. Probably his collection of cups and plates. He was known to hoard.

  Reluctant footsteps shuffled behind me. “I don’t know about this—”

  “How about you let me worry about the logistics?” I shot a wry glance over my shoulder. “I’ve managed to get you mostly out of your flammable shroud and into a safe place in less than fifteen minutes. Now would be a good time to stop arguing with me and start lavishing praise.” While he pondered my request, I peeled off a glove, lifted my hand to a section of the wall that ran parallel to the stairwell, and rested my open palm on the upper right quadrant. I had to wait only a few seconds before a click sounded, and the wall, which was actually a painted panel of graphene, popped open.

  Behind me, there was a gasp, followed by a ragged cough.

  When the hacking didn’t readily ease up, I turned and pounded a fist on Cozzi’s back. “Come on, Coz, you shouldn’t be this overcome. You know I have resources. I haven’t seen you in a while, but this shouldn’t shock you into a heart attack in your burial toga, although you’d clearly be ready.” He looked insane. Where were his clothes anyway? Did he get pushed out of his place so fast he didn’t even have time to get dressed? He was one of the oldest inhabitants in the city. He had to be at least sixty or seventy. Living that long around here was an accomplishment. An accomplishment. He was also a fan favorite, even in The Disgruntled North.

  I eyed him as his coughing fit subsided between gasps and new starts. “I’m not overcome, I’m impressed.” His words were injected with some of the old pizzazz I remembered. It was good to hear. “I’m just a little bit miffed it took you so long to show me.”

  Tossing my head back, I chortled, happy I was finally in the position to help him after all these years. Cozzi grinned. St
anding this close, I realized that his eyes weren’t merely bloodshot, like I’d first thought. It looked like some blood vessels were ruptured. Whatever had happened to him, it hadn’t been pretty.

  “I mean…I knew you were grown and self-sufficient,” he said, “but I had no idea those symbols were linked to you. They’re all over this damn city!”

  “They are indeed.” I nodded. “The only reason you didn’t know before is because we haven’t seen each other in too many years. You know I hate coming to The North. People up here are pissy as hell. That, and it’s taken me more than a few years to learn to share. It’s a relatively new skill, so don’t push it. Come on.” I picked up the bags, ignoring the rattling as I shouldered them. “Follow my lead exactly, or you’ll have an immediate use for that burial shroud. The symbols don’t lie.” I stepped through the opening in the wall.

  “You’ll have to find me a new cloth if I die. You’ve ruined this one. Now only my midsection will burn.”

  I snorted. “You’re not perishing on my watch. You’ve got about a hundred stubborn years left in you, old man. Just make sure you step over that”—I nodded toward the trip wire on the floor—“and we’re good.”

  * * *

  Thankfully, it didn’t take me long to get Cozzi settled. The safe house was a single room in the basement. I had no idea if anyone else inhabited the building above, and I wasn’t planning to find out.

  I’d instructed Cozzi to stay put and that I’d check on him when I had a chance. I hoped it would be within a week, but I didn’t promise him anything. He seemed content to wait it out, not offering up any further details about why I’d found him wrapped up like a wick with all his belongings littered behind him.

  I’d get it out of him eventually.

  My head was bowed as I continued down a side street. It was still relatively early, and thankfully, The North was known for taking the mornings off. Blackout was prime time around here. By my count, I had roughly six hours to get my stuff done and get back to Bender’s. Even with the Cozzi interruption, I should have plenty of time.

  Two blocks down, I took a right, then zigzagged across the street, making my way around a few piles of refuse, including several gigantic hunks of steel, massive amounts of cables that had been used to provide the city with power once upon a time, battered tech screens, and the like.

  Directly after the meteor struck, there hadn’t been any resources to do a full cleanup, and over time, the trash and debris had been relocated to giant heaps, so people could move through the streets unimpeded. This was as good as it got. Nobody bothered anymore, as there was always more where that came from. Pieces of buildings and debris fell from abandoned scrapers on a regular basis.

  I took a left and ducked into a nondescript building, one that’d been sheared off three stories up. This building had no painted symbols to warn anyone away, because no one would come in here anyway, for fear it would crumble down around them. The building was literally on the verge of collapse.

  My cache was on the second floor.

  Stepping in the spots I’d reinforced, I ascended the rickety interior staircase, listening as I went. I’d stored several important items here in recent months—a coveted gypsy motor not too long ago and an oversized cooling unit, one that barely fit in Luce’s passenger seat. I’d had to fly with the door up, landing on the street outside at dawn. Then I’d strapped the thing to my back to get it up the stairs.

  I’d already had a buyer, so it’d been worth it.

  But I hadn’t come here for either of those items.

  The prize I needed I’d stored over three years ago. Problem was, I couldn’t exactly remember where I’d put the damn thing. It was incredibly lethal, so I’d made a point of storing it someplace special. One I just couldn’t recall. My memory wasn’t failing at twenty-seven, but with all the stuff that had been going on in my head these last few days, I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised. It must be my brain’s way of telling me that I needed a vacation.

  The notion made me laugh.

  At the top of the second landing, I stepped out into the hallway. It was clear, no sounds erupting anywhere, except for the crunching under my feet and the inevitable creak and groan as the building listed in the breeze. If it came down eventually, I would ultimately lose some things, but it wouldn’t be the end of the world. The protection this location afforded me by having no one snooping around was priceless.

  Flipping my helmet visor up, I grabbed my chromoscope glasses out of my front pocket and slid them on, flicking the dial to ultraviolet. I’d sprinkled powder all over the first floor and the steps. If anyone had been up here, the tracks would be vivid.

  No footprints.

  I made my way toward the room, my back against the wall, my ass sliding along the surface in an effort to keep out of sight. Once I was situated across from my door, I tucked the glasses back into my vest and pulled out my audio amplifier, which was no bigger than a pebble, and inserted it into my ear. It slid in smoothly, fitting snugly in my canal. I stepped forward and rested my head against the wall to the right of the opening.

  No noise came from inside.

  The audio amplifier would pick up even the faintest sounds, since I had a mic set up inside. If someone was sleeping in there, I’d be able hear the even tones of their breathing. This particular room was internal to the building, no windows to the outside.

  I was almost in. One last thing.

  As I picked the amplifier out of my ear, I patted my vest. It took me a few tries to remember in which pocket I’d stored my door poppers. I finally found them, pulling out six extremely thin steel tubes hooked on a ring, each with its own welded nugget in a specific shape on the bottom. One of the six matched this particular door lock. If I didn’t choose the right one, it would set off a chain reaction that would explode a hydro-bomb big enough to raze this precarious building.

  I grumbled as I picked my way through the steel tubes, searching for the right one. I didn’t have them marked for good reason, but if I chose wrong, it would be a very bad day. I hit one of my shoulder lights, and hazy blue light lit a one-meter space around me. The six openers were fanned out in my palm. I finally plucked out the one with the nugget shaped like an F.

  I’d fashioned an F for this location because it fucking sucked. How could I forget that?

  I stuck the key in the slot and turned. A click sounded, and the door sprang open with no resistance, and I squeezed through the small opening. The door wouldn’t give any farther than a meter, because there was so much junk piled behind it—junk, meaning stacks of valuable, prized possessions.

  Closing it behind me, I pocketed the tube with the crusty F on it and hit the button on the wall. Enough yellow light erupted so I could see. My lights were battery-powered, rigged up simply. Everything stored here was densely packed, with enough room for only a narrow path. I glanced around and, as always, was amazed at how much I’d amassed and what I was still able to find sixty years after disaster had struck.

  Placing my hands on my hips, I bit my lip.

  Now, where did I put that thing? Moving forward, I knelt next to a box of random fasteners and slid them out of the way. A jangle sounded, and as they clinked together, the noise sparked my memory. I moved another box, this one containing carbon cups. Something Cozzi might like. I had to get to a space on the wall, so I crawled ahead, moving things as I went.

  Finally at the wall, I peeled off a glove and slid my bare hand along the cool surface until I came in contact with what I was looking for. Pinching the tiny tab, which was made out of clear rubber, I popped the panel off. It released with a small suction noise and plopped into my open hand. I set it aside and reached for the goods.

  With the utmost care, I pulled out my treasure.

  It was wrapped in a thin cloth made of steel fiber.

  Unfolding the fabric, I looked at the object sitting there, a tiny stone in the middle of my palm. It was incredible that something so small could harness such deadly pow
er. But when you were talking about something that was radioactive, size didn’t really matter.

  It was all about the energy transfer, and once activated, it would mess you up.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Once I had my scary, lethal prize, I locked up and skedaddled. No reason to stick around. I’d wrapped the radium ball back up in its containment cloth and carefully placed it inside a small pocket in my vest. I’d have to twist it to activate it, but it still made me nervous carrying it around. The double-steel core inside was pressurized—from what I understood, since I’d never used one before—and when activated, the insides heated up and radiation seeped out, infecting anything in its path.

  It would be a fatal dose.

  Radium balls had been a secret weapon created by the government for use during covert wars long before the dark days.

  I’d found this one by chance at a residence that used to house a government spy. Well, at least I thought he was a spy. Nothing labeled him as such, but based on the contents I’d found inside the safe I’d cracked—like, literally cracked with a sledge and a well-positioned hydro-bomb—it seemed like he was. There’d been various forms of paper identification—none that had been used in the last hundred years—all with the same picture but different names. It’d been kind of fun imagining what this guy used to do. The radium ball had been kept in a steel box, along with some other out-of-date tech.

  I’d been damn lucky I hadn’t inadvertently activated it during the safe-cracking. By my best guess, the last and final occupant of the residence hadn’t known the safe existed. It’d been deeply set into a wall, and the guy whose picture was on the ID’s had been long dead.

  But, like everything else around here, there was no way of ever knowing.

  Outside, there was movement on the street. People were waking up. I kept my head down, hands jammed in my pockets, trying to achieve an unassuming posture. I wasn’t looking for any trouble, even though I had no doubt it would find me at some point.