by F P Adriani
*
For days afterward, because of all that dust I’d breathed, my lungs had to be monitored and my mucus membranes had to be lightly flushed. Every day before my shift at the North Entrance, I’d go to The Complex’s clinic for treatments and tests.
On the fourth day, the doctor there declared, “Everything seems fine. You can go back into the mine.”
“How lovely,” I said, buttoning up the top of my uniform. My fingers stilled. I thought of Tan for the thousandth time lately—had he come through the tests okay like I had?
I really had no idea if he had: since that day, every time I’d see him around The Complex, he’d never speak to me; he’d only stare at me with a straight face. There were no more lewd smiles, and there was no evidence that the kiss had ever happened. And no apologies, no nothing. He looked as if he were stoned, or resigned to something. What, I didn’t know, but I couldn’t stand looking at his new passivity anymore. I also couldn’t stand this whole situation in general. Weeks had passed and I’d barely done anything about what I was supposedly here for.
I thought about leaving Diamond on the next flight. Fuck James. Fuck this job.
…But I knew I wouldn’t leave. I couldn’t. I hadn’t finished the job. And I hated leaving anything unfinished.
I looked up at the doctor; she stood writing in my file.
“What about the others—Tan?” I asked now.
“Because of Tan, Salvatore will walk again.” She glanced over at me. “Because of you too.”
I could feel the flush in my cheeks.
“Like you, Commander Onyx is okay. No permanent damage.”
Her “Commander Onyx” reminded me of that humiliating moment after the explosion. Frowning in anger now, I jumped off the examination table.
*
Later when I got to the North Entrance, Derek handed me something: a sealed written order, a sealed handwritten order from Tan. My heart pounded heavily as I read the inside paper:
Pia:
My house today at six—be there. We need to talk business.
Tan
If we needed to talk “business,” why the hell did it have to happen at his house? He should have called me into his office.
My face felt hot. I realized Derek was staring at me. “Is something up?” he asked now, sounding concerned.
I shook my head fast, shoving the letter inside my pocket. “No, no. He just wants to talk. About the explosion.”
Derek nodded, the concern twisting his mouth now. “Yeah, that was bad, but it could have been worse. It wasn’t meant to damage much, just to get people’s attention.”
“Well, it worked,” I said, my voice sarcastic. “But how do you know all that?”
“We had a briefing. All the Sergeants, Lieutenants and Commanders do after attacks happen.”
“And what about the rest of us? It would be nice if we were notified of everything.”
“If you needed to know something, you’d be told,” Derek said, before turning his attention to a truck pulling up to the entrance.
*
After work, I got something to eat at Brenda’s. I didn’t expect Tan to feed me this time after what happened the last time. But even if he’d planned on dinner today, I’d rather starve than eat his fucking food.
Back at my hotel room I didn’t have time to wash and get dressed up. I quickly changed out of my uniform and into a sweatsuit, then grabbed some of my important things and drove to Tan’s, half-cursing myself.
“What the hell is this? And why the hell am I agreeing to it?” I kept asking the inside of my car. A couple of times I flushed at my own thoughts, at my thoughts of that kiss. Maybe that was partly responsible for my going there. Well, no maybe about it.
Still, my anger propelled me more than anything. When I got to his place and out of my car, I slammed the door too hard.
Apparently, Tan had seen and heard; he’d been standing on his stoop, the door open behind him.
Glaring at him the whole while, I stalked up to his stoop. “Well? Why am I here? You going to help me finally?”
I rushed past him and inside his house.
“Come in, why don’t you,” he said in a sarcastic voice as he followed me inside. He closed the door behind us.
“Well?” I asked again, spinning around to face him. Surprise-surprise: he wasn’t in all black tonight. He wore all blue, light blue pants and shirt, reminding me of that night in the Records Room, with him in his pajamas. I almost laughed, but then I remembered everything that had passed between us since. And I frowned instead, demanding, “Why ask me here? We could have done this in your office.”
My head jerked back in shock at his response: “You were named after here: Diamond Sand. Diamond P. Sand, P for Pia. You ever gone by the Diamond?”
I hadn’t been called that in a long time. My stomach twisted into a tight knot; then I shook my head. “No. It’s too confusing in conversation. I’ve always gone by Pia.”
“Even your parents called you that?”
Now, I lowered my head. “Sometimes, yes.”
“You didn’t have enough time to be a kid, did you, Diamond? And then you were forced in directions you might not have gone if you’d lived more years before then.”
I didn’t respond at first. Then I said, “That kind of happens to everybody. Your environment affects how you come out.”
“Maybe, but not always as badly as in your case. The first rebellion was squashed pretty fast, but not fast enough before it ruined your life.”
“They loved it here, never wanted to leave. Always did what they could to make this a better place, better functioning, better lives. And this place killed them.”
“The place didn’t kill them. The people did,” Tan said.
“Same thing,” I replied. “Humans don’t belong here. We ARE the place now.” Then, suddenly, remembering myself again and remembering him, I glared at him. “What the hell—you tricked me into this shit. What’s your angle? You avoid me for days, then you invite me over and say this personal shit, all after you treated me like shit that day, yelling at me in front of everyone! I should kick your ass for that alone.”
“You could kick my ass,” he said. Then he walked past me and over to a side table. He picked up the folder lying there, pulled out a folded piece of black paper, opened it up and held it out toward me. “These recently showed up in some of the bathrooms around The Complex,” he said as I walked over to him and grabbed the paper.
It was a poster. Big red letters there said, “Sanders strike! Or we’ll strike.” There was a red drawing of flames on top of a pile of rubble on top of a mine entrance.
Feeling blood pounding in my face, I looked up at him. “What is this?”
“What do you think it is? It’s a threat, intended to make the miners afraid to work and then refuse. But the real question is: who put them in the bathrooms?”
He just stood staring at me with a straight face, and now my face twisted. “What the—” I waved the poster at him “—you think I did this?”
His dark eyes rolled upward. “No. But I’m pretty sure I know who did. She’s being questioned by the cops. We have to call them in when this happens, when we catch someone. I just wanted to tell you personally. I think you know her—Galeta Johnson.”
My mouth dropped open and stayed open for a long moment. Then I snapped it shut. “Well well well. I’m shocked, but then I’m not.” I looked directly at his eyes. “And she has the hots for you.”
“Not my type,” he said. But I only stared back at him. He seemed to get the message.
His voice was lower now: “That was a long time ago.”
“Not so long ago,” I said, handing him back the poster. “…Actually, I can’t believe this…. Did Galeta plant the bomb the other day? She could have killed me!” Now I felt a vicious superhot anger; I also felt the anger fill my face with even more red.
“That I don’t know yet. But sometimes people aren’t who they seem there. It
comes with the job.”
“Yeah, lots of shitty things come with the job. Like a boss who berates you in front of everyone else, simply for having done your job.”
His face seemed to sink in on itself, and he sighed a loooong sigh before he spoke. “That shouldn’t have happened. That was really wrong of me. I—”
Interrupting him, I spoke fast. “It doesn’t matter. Now I see I don’t have any real friends here.” I thought of Nell. She’d met Galeta first—but how long ago really? Who was Nell? Who were any of them? “I’ve gotta get the hell out of here soon. The clock’s ticking. The weeks.”
“And then what?”
I gave him my trademark hard glare. “You know what.” I turned around and headed for the door again.
His voice stopped me. “You can’t just run away from all this, Pia. You’re invested in it now.”
“No, I ain’t. I can run.” I pulled open the door and stepped outside.
The sky had darkened a bit; it would be night soon. I remembered that other night I’d spent here, how we’d left off. I sensed the same argument in the air. As usual, my senses were right.
“To where? Your next bounty?” Tan spat from behind me.
I spun around and spat back, “If need be. You don’t get it, do you?” I kept walking to my car.
“No, I get it. I get that you lie and cheat and kill to make money. Oh I get it all right.”
I spun around a second time when I reached my car. “I’m not a killer! Goddamn you, Tan!”
When I opened my car door, I yanked my briefcase along the seat toward me, punched in the code, opened the top, and pulled out a piece of paper, furiously crumpling it up.
Then I spun around for the third time that night and flung the paper ball hard at Tan. He startled as it hit him in the chest.
When he bent forward to pick up the paper, I jumped in my car, started it up and drove off, without looking back at him even once.
*
On the way to my hotel, my fingers gripped the steering wheel so hard, my knuckles turned bright Diamond white. Who the fuck were all these people—Nell? Had everything been fake there? Had she followed me, had she been casing me? Had Tan? How did I know they hadn’t planted the bombs, the posters? I didn’t know anything.
I did, however, know that I should hang out at The Complex that weekend. Now that the part-inside-job nature of the sabotage there kept becoming clearer, I might be able to find more answers there.
On the other hand, so much security at the place meant tight lips, not loose ones.
I followed that old lead instead: I went back to the Blue Sand County.
There, I checked into the same hotel, got something to eat—I got something to OVEReat. Since the explosion in the mine, I hadn’t been eating enough, and I suddenly had the urge to make up for the lack of food.
At the hotel restaurant, I gorged myself on salad and rice and beans and fried plantains, belching hard into my fist at the meal’s end. I laughed at myself, then I went up to my room to take a nap.
Several hours later, I walked back into The Space Mariner. The place was more crowded tonight than last time, and in the far corner, I immediately noticed a group of people wearing short blue robes over black pants, mostly male people wearing short blue robes over black pants. They stuck out, so my eyes stuck to them.
I sat half-facing them, planting my ass in one of the tables in the middle of the large room. A bored-looking too-thin waitress came up to me, and I ordered a glass of red wine. She walked away toward the bar, and I saw the very same messy-haired bartender from the other night. He seemed to glance my way, before walking down the bar and taking someone’s order.
Loud music blasted, the lights seemed too low, the air had that same deep-fried oily smell, only this time the smell was stale oil, not fresh. By the time the waitress brought my wine, my head was throbbing painfully, and I realized my stomach had been feeling like a giant fixed lump. I’d eaten too much earlier. And the nap hadn’t helped. Apparently, I’d barely digested my food.
I lost all desire to add anything to my already-too-full stomach, so I barely sipped my wine. But my eyes occasionally slid over to the group of people in blue. Some of them were laughing loudly, others were quietly drinking. I kept my head low most of the time, but bounced it round the room the rest of the time, taking in other people, then lowering my head and putting my eye-focus onto the blue people.
At one point during this hour, the bartender went over to their big table, bringing them new drinks; he had his back to me so I couldn’t see if he spoke or anything. He didn’t seem to be talking, or at least if he was, no one seemed to be responding. They were too busy laughing and banging their hands on the table. They were loud—shit, the whole place was. Another fucking wasted night.
I tried to force more of my drink down my throat, but it wouldn’t make the trip. So I sat there, half in a meditative state now, thinking about these past weeks, thinking about all I’d gone through, all I’d seen. I never expected half of it, and I wasn’t sure I liked any of it.
Diamond had changed from what I’d remembered, or maybe I had changed. Maybe I had grown away from the place. My physical strength had remained, but my mind had changed. Who I was had grown, had split….
My head suddenly felt as if it would split. I rushed away from the table toward the back where I knew the bathroom was.
When I reached it and went inside, of course the place was dirty; the faucets were rusted, the sink had brown gunk around the basin….
I rushed out and back into the bar and pulled that same skinny waitress aside. “Excuse me—I need some cold water, like, right now.” She nodded and walked away fast.
My back to the blue people, I slid into a booth table now, lowered the back of my head to the seat’s top and closed my eyes.
When I opened them a moment later, a glass full of water was sitting in front of me on the table, and one of the men in blue was sitting in front of me across the table. He had tightly curled short brown hair, cold blue eyes, and he half-grinned at me.
“Hello,” he said, his voice a low cold rumble I didn’t care for. “I kept seeing you sitting alone tonight.”
“So have lots of people,” I said, my hand shaking as I picked up the glass of water. I finished the whole glass in a few gulps, then dropped it back onto the table.
“So are you looking for something tonight?” the man said in that same unpleasant voice.
I pointed at my glass. “I just had what I’m looking for. Good night and good bye.” I slid out of the booth and walked across the bar toward the front door. Several people were standing there blocking the entrance as they bullshitted and laughed. I groaned, walked toward the side door and slipped outside.
The night had turned colder, wetter, windier, and the cold damp air slapped my face hard. It rarely rained in this part of Diamond, but it seemed tonight would soon be an exception.
There was a ramp from the door down to what looked like grass surrounded by bushes, like a dark little garden area. I walked down the ramp, thinking how strange that a garden should be sitting outside a rough dump like this—
—a strong crash into my right side jerked me across the grass toward the wall of the building opposite. A body was the cause of the crash: a man pushed up against me, pushed me up against the wall. Of course I had brought my gun tonight, but of course my gun had just now fallen out of my jacket and onto the grass because of the forceful body blow. Thankfully the grass it slid onto was shadowed, so the gun lay concealed.
“What the fuck—” I said now, struggling beneath the male body.
“Who are you and why you been asking about things you shouldn’t?” the man shot out. I recognized the unpleasant voice, only it was louder now, aggressive. I saw more motion in the shadows and realized we weren’t the only two people out there. More people in blue stood behind him.
Sweat coated my face and neck, my mouth instantly dried, my tongue flailed inside; the curly-haired guy had pulle
d back a bit, but he now had my forearms pinned to the wall in each of his hands. His breath reeked of booze; I lowered my head, silently swearing at my stupidity tonight.
He was stupid too: he let my right leg get free. I swiftly brought down my right foot onto his foot; he yelped, slid off me a bit, and then I just as swiftly brought up my left knee into his crotch. I used all my strength to push him off me, then I bent to the right for my gun, snatched it up and ran toward the back alleyway.
I could hear footfalls pounding behind me, then a shout, “Someone’s coming—a gun!”
And then the footfalls subsided, so I slowed down a moment, gasping for air, and then I heard fast footfalls again. I took off again, running even faster than last time, down another alley.
Then I heard Tan’s voice shouting my name!
I stopped instantly. “Tan—what the hell—” I panted, turning around, watching his sharp-eyed pale face emerge out of the damp darkness.
I bent forward, my hands on my knees, my mouth eating big gulps of air. “What the hell—are you doing here?”
He was out of breath too. He panted a couple of times before he spoke. “I saw them follow you—”
“Obviously! I mean what the hell are you doing HERE, at this place?”
His mouth twisted a bit. “I followed you.”
*
“Goddamn you, Tan,” I said when we’d walked out of the alley and into the more brightly lit area of a main street.
He’d just finished telling me he’d been tracking me for a while now—with a tracker on my car. He’d seen me come to the Blue Sand County twice, and this second time he asked Derek if he knew anything because he knew Derek had lived here for years. Derek then told him about our Space Mariner conversation; Tan put two-and-two together and came after me.
“Goddamn you,” I said again, facing him.
