The Doctor paused. “All right, here’s the deal. If there are no more attacks while the ship is here I’ll turn the juice back on once they’ve left.”
He had to practically force the words out.
He hated caving in so quickly, but what choice did he have? Hopefully the riffraff in the Burbs had learned their lesson. If he were a gambling man he wouldn’t bet much on that, though.
A sigh of relief came from a couple of the council members.
“Don’t get too comfy,” The Doctor warned. “Any more attacks on Asians or their property and I’ll keep the embargo on permanently.”
Clyde coming in the door gave him a reason to cut the meeting short.
“OK, you lot. Out. I have to talk with the Head of the Watch.”
The Burbs Council trailed out, looking peevish. The Doctor snorted. What did they have to be angry about? They got all they asked for, didn’t they? Ahmed paused at the door.
“I need some more bandages and painkillers,” he said.
“You know how to make those yourself.”
“Yes, but I’ve been busy with—”
“You know how to make those yourself,” The Doctor repeated. “Do you have an emergency and need them right away?”
“No, but—”
“Then make them yourself.”
Ahmed glared at him. “I also need some antivirals. That flu we had a couple of months back is making the rounds again. Can you spare some from your kit?”
“I’ll have someone bring some out. Get going.”
Ahmed nodded and left.
Clyde watched him go.
“You hear what that mob did to their prayer room? I’m surprised the Muslims haven’t cut someone’s head off,” Clyde said.
“Shut up and give me your report,” The Doctor snapped.
Clyde frowned. “You need to remember you aren’t running this show alone.”
“Give me your report.”
“I took a vehicle out to meet The Giver, that’s how I got back so fast.”
“You’re supposed to ask my permission to use the motor pool.”
Clyde narrowed his eyes. “City emergency.”
Everyone’s got authority these days, don’t they?
When The Doctor didn’t respond, the Head of the Watch went on. “He was concerned about Jessica, of course. When I told him she was in custody he seemed satisfied with that.”
“What, he doesn’t want her back?”
“Didn’t ask, no.”
“Surely he realizes she can’t spy for him anymore, even if she wanted to.”
Clyde shrugged.
The Doctor bit his lip and remembered Jessica’s words.
The only reason he left her with us was because the wildlands had become too dangerous. Her being a spy and radio operator only came out of opportunity. So if she can’t do either of those things, does that mean he wants her to stay here because there’s some other danger out there?
“Where is he now?”
“Where we found him. He said he wouldn’t budge until we got back to him. I have him under guard but not under detention.”
The Doctor walked out of the operations center, hoping Clyde wouldn’t follow. He did.
“So we going to blow the ship?” he asked.
“I told you we’re still negotiating. You got the charge ready?”
The Head of the Watch nodded, “We got it stored in a safe place near the shore. We can set it tonight if you want.”
“No, we’re going out in a bit. They’re expecting us. We’ll see how it goes.”
Clyde said nothing. The Doctor had been expecting an argument. They stood at the parapet, looking out at the Burbs. The shantytown looked strangely subdued, the market almost empty. Few people moved about.
“Too quiet for my liking,” Clyde said. “Oh, and Roy called a Citizens Council meeting for tonight.”
The Doctor turned in surprise. “Roy? He never gets involved in politics.”
Clyde shrugged. “Maybe cutting the power to his business changed that.”
The Doctor was about to say something about the stupidity of putting a business in the Burbs when there was a strange whirring overhead.
Insects in winter?
Before he could look up, Clyde snapped the safety off his M16 and let off a burst in full auto right next to The Doctor’s head.
“What the hell?” he shouted, crouching.
Clyde swept the gun in an arc, firing into the air. The Doctor caught a blur of movement. Something the size of a large insect and very fast shot by. As Clyde reloaded, he heard the whirring sound again.
“What are you firing at?” The Doctor yelled.
“It’s a drone!” Clyde said, fixing a second magazine into his assault rifle. A couple of the guards fired at the object too.
“A drone? Can’t be!”
But it was. The Doctor hadn’t seen one in years. Back in the early days of New City they’d had one they’d scavenged from the ruins of Southaven, but the circuit board had fried decades ago and no one in the world could fix it.
“The Chinks are spying on us,” Clyde said.
The drone hovered over New City, taking an evasive pattern.
“Cease fire!” The Doctor shouted. “Cease fire you idiots! You’ll hit someone.”
The fire tapered off. The drone buzzed away unharmed. They watched helplessly as it made a slow circle of New City and paused above the camp of Asians inside.
Suddenly The Doctor saw how this looked. All the Asians in town, many of them visibly beaten up, under guard and surrounded by a high wall and barbed wire.
“Wait! No!” The Doctor shouted, knowing it was useless. He waved his hands over his head trying to get the drone’s attention. It lowered down until it was only a few meters above the Asians, who looked up at it in wonder, then it shot up into the air and zipped off in the direction of the ship.
The Doctor watched it go.
Uh-oh.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Pablo and Hong-gi screamed as they scrabbled back down the mound of rubble. The tweaker let out a triumphant howl and ran after them. Just as they made it to the bottom of the mound, another tweaker came around a pile of concrete and blocked off their escape.
The boys cut to the right. Pablo felt himself jerk backwards as one of the tweakers grabbed his pack. As he landed on the jagged rubble he caught a glimpse of Hong-gi running away, one of the tweakers hot on his tail. His friend glanced over his shoulder.
“Pablo!”
“Keep running!”
Hong-gi hesitated just for a moment too long. With a cackle the tweaker grabbed him.
Pablo looked up at the chem addict who loomed over him. He wasn’t sure if it was a man or a woman. The thing was caked with grime and stank worse than the outhouse behind Uncle Roy’s bar. Despite the cold it only wore a tattered homespun shirt and an old pair of camo pants torn halfway down one leg. Its feet were bare, with cracked nails and open sores all over.
The tweaker grabbed Pablo by the shirt and hauled him up, lifting him into the air. With its other hand it grabbed Pablo’s spare bag.
The other one returned carrying Hong-gi under his arm. The boy kept punching the tweaker in the head. It didn’t seem to notice.
Pablo yelped as the tweaker who had caught him gripped him hard by the wrist and yanked him forward. Pablo stumbled to keep up.
“What do we do?” Hong-gi cried. Both tweakers let out mindless laughs.
They took the boys to a large pile of rubble with a hole in the side of it like a cave. Pablo struggled even harder when the tweaker who had a hold on him led him towards the entrance. The top of the cave was propped up with a big slab of concrete and the sides were piles of bricks and chunks of concrete and old rebar. Pablo wasn’t sure if it had been made by someone or had just turned out that way when the building collapsed, but he sure knew he didn’t want to go in there.
Then he remembered the clasp knife in his pocket. He pulled it out wit
h his free hand and tried to open it with his thumb.
The tweaker stopped and stared at him dumbly. Pablo winced as he tried again to open the knife and tore his thumbnail.
The tweaker frowned. “Tryntocutmehuh?”
He hit Pablo over the head with the emergency bag, making him drop the knife.
“Letsbagettintabizniz,” the other burped, still holding Hong-gi and still taking punches to the side of the head.
They carried and dragged the boys inside the cave. Pablo blinked in the dim light inside. There was a slab of concrete to the side covered with filthy shreds of cloth that could have been a bed. The floor was littered with rusted cans, puddles of half-dried pee, and a few turds. Pablo retched.
They threw Pablo and Hong-gi onto the bed. One squatted grinning by the entrance while the other rummaged through the bags, tossing everything around. The food landed in a puddle of pee. The tweaker opened up the canteen, sniffed it, and poured it out in disgust. The blankets were thrown onto the bed.
The chem addict roared in frustration and tore the bag to pieces. Pablo and Hong-gi huddled close together, pushing themselves into the far corner of the cave.
The tweaker squatting by the door laughed and pulled a rusted can out of his pocket. The top was covered with a cloth. When he pulled this off a sharp chemical stench filled the cave, making both boys gag.
The tweaker held the can up to his nose and breathed in deep. Then he flung his head back and howled.
“Hooooo!”
The other tweaker stopped tearing apart the emergency bag and grabbed the can from him. He inhaled, his head jerking back like he’d been punched. A big grin spread across his face.
The tweaker held out the can to the boys. The smell of toxins was so strong both of them covered their noses and mouths.
“Wantsum?”
The tweaker frowned and jabbed the can forward again. Pablo shook his head.
An iron grip dug into his arm and Pablo was yanked forward. He didn’t understand how these guys could be half dead from the stuff they breathed and still be so strong. The tweaker held the can to Pablo’s face. Pablo turned away, holding his hand over his nose and mouth.
“Urrrrgh!” the tweaker growled, shaking him back and forth. The other tweaker came over and pulled Pablo’s hand away. Pablo held his breath. The can was right below his nose now. He closed his eyes tight as the fumes stung them.
Ten seconds. Twenty. Pablo’s lungs burned. He needed to take a breath right now.
A shout from the doorway made everyone turn. A raggedy form burst into the cave and knocked over both tweakers, slamming Pablo into the back wall. The tin of chemicals fell to the floor with a clank.
Pablo looked on wide-eyed as a third tweaker fought the two who had captured them. The three creatures in rags snarled and bit and tore, rolling around on the floor. In a minute the newcomer had knocked one tweaker’s head against the wall and stunned him. Then he got on top of the other one and started slamming his head against the floor. The guy looked familiar.
“It’s Mr. Cooper!” Hong-gi said.
Mr. Cooper smacked the tweaker’s head against the floor, the chem addict’s skull making a cracking sound that turned Pablo’s stomach.
The boys’ other captor picked himself up from the floor, shaking his head. His bloodshot eyes fixed on Mr. Cooper and he let out a snarl. Mr. Cooper didn’t even notice as he kept slamming the dead tweaker’s head against the floor.
In an instant the fight started again. Mr. Cooper let out a yelp as the tweaker leapt on him and knocked him almost out of the cave. They flailed around, hitting, kicking, biting. Pablo took a wild swing to the side of his head and got knocked down. As his vision cleared, he saw Mr. Cooper on top of the tweaker’s back, his teeth sunk in a filthy ear.
Mr. Cooper yanked his head back. There was a disgusting tearing sound as the tweaker’s ear came free.
The tweaker howled and knocked Mr. Cooper off him. Holding his hand to the bloody wound, he ran out of the cave and across the ruined city, his howls fading into the distance.
The boys stared at Mr. Cooper, who sat on the floor amid all the blood and pee and squashed turds, looking confused and battered with an ear hanging out his mouth.
Pablo didn’t dare speak. He glanced at Hong-gi, who looked just as scared as he felt.
Mr. Cooper turned to the boys. A stupid grin spread across his face and the ear dropped from his lips, landing on the floor with a splat. He got on his hands and knees and crawled around the cave sniffing like a dog in some movie from the Old Times. After a moment he found the can and brought it to his nose.
Mr. Cooper cackled, swaying back and forth.
“Let’s get out of here,” Pablo whispered.
“Wait,” Hong-gi said. He reached down, grabbed something from the floor, and put it in his pocket.
Pablo grabbed a blanket.
“Gee, thanks Mr. Cooper,” he said.
Mr. Cooper looked over the rim of the can. Snot dangled from his nose. His bloodshot eyes tried to focus.
“Um, could you help us get to the ship?” Pablo asked.
Mr. Cooper grunted and waved his arm, signaling them to go away.
Hong-gi and Pablo stepped over the dead body of the tweaker and edged toward the door.
“Mr. Cooper, if you just—”
Mr. Cooper snarled and leapt to his feet. Hong-gi and Pablo fled out of the cave. Pablo looked over his shoulder and saw that Mr. Cooper had turned his back on them and was hunched over the can, sniffing.
The boys hurried away, only stopping for a moment for Pablo to grab the clasp knife that the tweaker had knocked out of his hand. The air was fresher outside the cave but their nostrils and eyes still stung from the sharp tang of toxins. Both had lost their masks.
“At least we have a blanket,” Pablo sighed.
“We have this too,” Hong-gi said with a smile. He held up a bag of oat cakes.
“Good job!”
They walked on in silence, munching on the last of their food and listening for any sign of the tweakers. Once a distant howl froze them in their tracks. The sound wasn’t repeated, and they continued on.
“We must be getting close,” Hong-gi whispered.
“I hope so, I’m hungry,” Pablo replied.
A flash of light between two heaps of old concrete made them stop. They crept forward, crouching low, and a sliver of the bay came into view.
“We’ve made it!” Pablo said. The friends gave each other a high five.
They hurried on, too excited to be careful. As they ran between the two piles of concrete the whole bay came into view before them. To their left stood the ruins of the petrochemical works, closer than Pablo had thought it would be. Beyond that stood the crumpled old cranes standing at the port, and in front of them, across the sparkling water, the gutted buildings of the city. Pablo looked to the right, out across the water, and could see the entire bay to where it opened up to the sea.
Pablo came to a dead stop. Hong-gi stopped beside him, letting out a sharp cry.
The ship had gone.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Yu-jin yawned and stretched, coming out of the deepest sleep she had enjoyed in a long time. This sofa from the Old Times was the most comfortable thing she’d ever slept on. She wondered why people back then even had beds.
She rubbed her eyes and looked around at The Doctor’s living room. The whiskey bottle and two empty glasses sat on the table in front of her. At one wall stood a little desk and that wonderful computer. She was tempted to turn it back on and look at more photos of the taikonauts, but she didn’t know how and was afraid she might break it.
Along the walls hung pictures from the Old Times. Like everyone else, The Doctor liked to decorate his shelter with old pictures. The difference with these was that instead of pages torn out of magazines, they were mostly old paintings—landscapes and images of buildings she supposed were famous back then. Another wall was taken up by a bookshelf filled with old tom
es.
It was a lovely room. The only thing missing were windows. The warehouse had none. She suspected The Doctor liked it that way.
Funny how she hadn’t really taken a close look at her surroundings last night. Too much had gone on, and her mind had been in a whirl.
And there would be more trouble today. The Doctor had never slapped an embargo on the Burbs before. She’d come here to find peace and now look at how things had turned out.
Sighing, she sat up.
“Hello?” she called out.
Silence.
“Doctor, are you awake?”
Still no answer.
Yu-jin got up and tiptoed to the bedroom. The door was ajar. She peeked in and saw a smaller room. Like the living room, all the wall space was taken up by bookshelves and pictures, this time mostly photographs. The bed lay unmade and empty.
He must have gone out without waking me. I better go find out what’s going on.
She was about to turn to leave when something on the bedside table caught her eye.
A small wooden pipe. It jogged her memory of the night before. As she had been drifting off the sleep for the second time, the worries of the day finally succumbing to her exhaustion, she could have sworn she had smelled pot smoke.
“No way,” she whispered.
She couldn’t help but go in the room and check. The pipe was still half full. From the looks of it, The Doctor had a line on some very fine weed.
Yu-jin chuckled. She didn’t smoke much, only now and then with Randy. It made him silly and her sleepy, so she didn’t see much of a point.
What would smoking with The Doctor be like?
Suddenly she felt guilty about being in his room. She put the pipe down in the same position she had found it and turned to go.
This time she was stopped by one of the photos on the wall.
It showed two young men arm in arm. One was kissing the other on the cheek. The man getting kissed was smiling at the camera. Yu-jin took in a sharp breath as she recognized him as The Doctor. He looked so different! Not only was he young, looking in his early twenties like Yu-jin, but he appeared carefree, happy. The smile was real, without a trace of bitterness or sarcasm, which were the only types of smiles she’d ever seen the old Doctor make.
We Had Flags (Toxic World Book 3) Page 21
