Fortune's Detour: Prequel of the Deka Series by Abigail Schwaig

by Abigail Schwaig

  It was a mess down there; I glanced once at the gun smoke filled room and coughed on the dry, acrid taste. The pungency burned my throat and tongue and left a bitter taste that I would not soon be rid of.

  It sounded like a herd of giant Rka reptiles were trashing the place. I chomped down on my lip accidentally and tasted blood. I threw the door shut behind me and flopped to my stomach over my bed, digging under my pillow for the weapon. It was a 9mm as well, though the butt was smaller and fit my palm better. Trust Tom to give a girl a gift that could save her life. I shoved it between my jeans and skin, and thrusting open the nearest window, climbed out. Straddling the edge I looked down. I had only one shoe on, but there was no time to go back.

  Tom had always told me to get to the highest vantage point and wait for him. He would expect me on the roof. It would be easy enough to find hand and foot holds on the side of the building; it was the possibility of a drop that concerned me.

  “Deal with it,” I murmured to myself and reached for my first handhold, refusing to look down even for a second.

  I gritted my teeth and willed myself not to be distracted by the gunshots. My fingers felt weak, but as long as I used my legs mostly, I was fine. I scrambled over the roof edge, breathing heavily and baring my teeth in effort. Slipping off my shoe, I dropped it to the pavement below where it would appear I had landed and lost the article of clothing.

  I crouched behind an EC unit (environmental control unit) and flipped open my Comms, dimming the light with a swipe of my finger. Sam would eventually message me with the all-clear. I pulled the cold metal gingerly out of my jeans and readied myself for defense by taking a few clear, deep breaths. Clasping the heels of my hands against each other on the butt and wrapping my left hand’s fingers firmly, though gently around the fist of my right, I exhaled. Slowly.

  Now, for the waiting.

  It seemed like forever I was stuck up there on the stupid roof. If I had known what was going on below me, I would never have left the two of them.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  I crouched, burning twinges zapping my thighs the longer I waited on bent legs.

  For all I knew, the skirmish continued.

  I squeezed my eyes shut and prayed, not for the first time since returning from the ‘fishing for David’ expedition. I had never before considered myself patient enough for “praying.” And I still had questions about it; the most notable being about the appearance and subsequent disappearance of the valley. I knew some things are never going to be explained, but somehow I felt that I would spend years trying to figure this mystery out.

  I still hadn’t been able to pray with actual, coherent words yet; I didn’t know what to say. So I prayed with feelings. The sensation it released in me was not uncomfortable, just different. Unexplainable, like I was both hollow and full at the same time. Sometimes I felt stupid for sending my thoughts to some being I had never seen before. At other times, I felt so covered in the presence that could only be explained as Amaranth that I couldn’t utter a word due to the beautiful weight that pressed upon me.

  I couldn’t hear anything up here, not even scuffling. Even pressing an ear to the EC unit, I heard nothing. It was too new. With older units, you were able to discern sounds inside the building, or so the urban legend went.

  On the roof, there was much else to occupy your observance. Even though it was late and there weren’t too many people who ventured out for a walk, vehicles had no such qualms. They flew overhead and drove down the street every once in a while, but they mostly stuck to upper levels of traffic, out of respect to those of us who inhabited the ground floor of World City.

  The EC unit beside me was silent. I moved closer into the shadows as my eyes adjusted from the brightness of the living room to the darkness that spilled across the roof. A light from the office building behind us was the only light from ground level that touched me. I blanched from it, backing away into the further recesses of obscurity.

  A simple message bleeped onto my screen. You safe?

  I replied. Yes. You?

  Yes and no. Stay there for now. Wait for me to get you.

  Okay. Yes and no?

  Tom.

  My stomach felt gutted. Dead?

  No. Leg.

  I didn’t realize how rigid my body was until I breathed a sigh of relief and sat down, head in hands. “Thank Amaranth,” I whispered.

  He’s a survivor. It was good you weren’t here.

  I wish I had been.

  No comment on that one.

  Only one of them got away; which is why I need you to stay where you are.

  Got it. What about Tom?

  He’s doing pretty well. He’s been shot in the leg before, so it’s more painful because the old wound has been reopened.

  Angels. Keep me posted on him?

  Of course.

  I sighed and sat back, completely covered in shadow. “Tom, you better stay alive.”

  It was uncomfortable up there on the roof, especially taking into account that I was barefoot outside at the end of Winter. Thank Hecta that World City had always resembled a jungle, even if it had no vegetation to speak of. So I shivered a little and wrapped my arms around my knees, rocking back and forth to maintain

  warmth.

  ~

  Several hours of knee-hugging and intermittent teeth-chattering later, it was 4812/2/2/10. The light of morning was creeping along buildings like a slowly encroaching monster, rising over us as Hecta orbited just so. My eyes felt thick and heavy within their sockets and my thin clothes had not managed to provide comfort or warmth while being curled up on a gravelly tar-covered roof. All buildings in World City had roofs like that for landing aircraft upon. It gave them better traction. Unfortunately, it also ate your bare skin and tore your clothes if not careful. Just like the traction in the military transport.

  To pass the time and calm my nerves, I made up situations where I was with the boys at the hospital. I imagined what Tom would look like, what he would say. Probably nothing but a grunt. He wasn’t very vocal about discomfort.

  I would have held his hand and been comforted by the painfully strong squeeze he would have given mine. His eyes would be a little crazy, but he would be grinning like anything, ready to outlast the cartel boys to the death.

  I would talk to him; say anything nonsensical to keep his mind off of his leg. He would get a good laugh, but it would turn into pain as the movement jarred his wound. And then I would have to let go so they could wheel him away. The hall would blur and all I would be left with would be a tight handprint in mine and the obstinacy to will my friend to recover.

  And Sam would be there. I squeezed my eyes shut.

  The rest of the night and subsequent morning was anticlimactic.

  I felt a sort of peace after I envisioned myself a part of the hospital run. My prayers spent, I turned my focus to what was next. What came now? Only one of the criminals had gotten away. I wondered where the others were. Downstairs? I gulped. Maybe that’s why Sam didn’t want me going back inside. There were probably patrollers inside, cataloguing evidence and bodies. All of a sudden I was very happy to be freezing my toes off, scratched from the hard tar material and shivering alone on the windy roof.

  ~

  Sam climbed up shortly after the full break of dayshine across the city. I waved half-heartedly as he stepped over the edge of the roof. As he made his way over, I stretched to ready myself for the descent. He reached out and pulled me up, gingerly.

  “Sss,” I hissed as I sucked in my breath; feet aching and smarting from their cuts, not to mention the similar state of my palms. I hadn’t felt it at all when I was clambering up, but over the hours of sedentary sitting, I had started to become well aware of their condition.

  His face twisted a little as he looked over my cuts.

  “It’s not bad.”

  He snorted and shook his head. “Up you go.”

  Carefully I climbed aboard with minimal wiggling and clamped my legs around
his waist, my hands lightly gripping his shoulders.

  “You’ll have to hold on tighter- I can’t use my arms to secure you,” he turned his head to me, almost colliding with my forward tilted face. I felt a giggle rise into my throat, and let it out. I figured we both had ample excuse for nervousness, although it was hard to tell whether the fizziness in my stomach was coming from a night of exhaustion or the close contact with Sam’s very pleasant self.

  He carried me on his back to the edge.

  “Hold on, I’m taking you with me.” He was going to move the both of us over the lip of the roof and inside the platform-cage he rode up in.

  We lurched and tilted; my hands gripped his shoulders tighter by instinct, the flair of pain diminishing as I felt the very real danger of falling three stories to the pavement below. I pressed into him, sinking into the warm rigidity of his frame, hiding my face between his shoulder blade and spine. He smelled of sweat and gunmetal. I closed my eyes. If we fell, it would be much more pleasant to pretend we were flying.

  A stomp that jarred my nose into his shoulder, causing the flesh to smart and my eyes to water forced my eyes to fly open. We were safely ensconced in the metal cage and were now descending due to a large piece of machinery that I did not know the name of. I couldn’t see it very well either. My feet and hands started throbbing now that the fatality had been averted.

  “Are you ok?” I asked in a small voice, relaxing most of my grip on his shoulders.

  “I’m fine.” He was distracted by controlling the cage and mechanism.

  “And Tom?”

  He tensed, adjusting something I couldn’t identify without craning my neck to an inhuman degree. His voice changed tone; much more calm and soft. “He’s doing better than you or I- they’ve got him sky-high on painkillers.”

  I let out a sigh and leaned once more against him, relieved.

  We passed the window to my level and kept fluctuating and rocking downwards.

  “Can we go see him?”

  He shook his head and we landed with another bone-jarring thud which made him scowl- I could hear it. That made me smile even as I frowned. “Why not?”

  The cage door opened and he placed a hand underneath one of my legs to help maneuver me out without getting snagged and scraped on a rail. “Federation has seen fit to give him another handler and they’ve moved him out. He’s on another planet by now, in his new home.” He paused, carrying me to the side of the house, where my duffle lay.

  “You packed my bag?”

  “Yeah. The house is off-limits, being a crime scene, but since you aren’t supposed to be traceable, the patrollers graciously allowed me to confiscate your belongings.” He gritted his teeth in distaste.

  I laughed. No love lost between the departments of Deka’s Defense.

  He dumped me gently on top of the fluffy, fabric-filled bag and pulled out a small bottle of antiseptic, handing it to me. I squirmed, feeling a prod from the Exan typewriter within.

  He gave me an apologetic smile and turned away to fiddle with his Comms and hold a conversation with the guy who loaned him the ascending platform cage while I patched myself up for travel.

  Turns out it was a “Floating Staircase”. Now that I had a full view of the thing, I recognized it for what it was.

  I dabbed at the cuts with the cleanser and hissed from the sting. It felt like acid was eating away at my already raw and tender skin. I glanced at the label. Right. It was acid. Regenerative acid. However that stuff works. “Isn’t this expensive?” I called out after Sam, after he was through with the worker and the Staircase was compressing back in on itself for easy transportation.

  He shrugged. “If it works; it’s worth it.”

  “Quality over quantity,” I mused to myself.

  “You could say that.” He turned away when I looked up at him.

  I frowned.

  “You’re being relocated to Tera.” He spoke directly, cutting his eyes at me. “I know it seems strange, having basically sewn the whole deal shut what with the judge and the criminals that have been found, not to mention having David in custody.”

  I stiffened a little. Not at the mention of all the people who wanted me gone, but at his tone. It was cold, impersonal. Unlike the Sam I knew. Why was he doing this?

  He sighed. “They want you to see David one last time.”

  My unspoken feelings on the matter hung in the air between us. Finally I spoke, raising my eyes to his. “And what will that accomplish?”

  “He won’t talk about what he knows unless he sees you first. Apparently he still loves you.”

  I felt like a cart had just knocked me off my feet. “What?” I shook my head. My hearing must be loopy- all that racket last night when the communal living area turned into a gun range.

  He gritted his teeth once again. “He will be put into the Federation’s witness protection program. And I am supposed to be his handler.”

  “Oh.” I spoke dully. David loves me? How ridiculous. The guy tried to get me killed!

  “We better go.”

  “Yeah.” I slipped on some sandals, without realizing that my cuts were all healed. The freshly repaired skin was still pink and tender, but toughening up in a timely fashion. I examined my hands for a moment; they too were perfect. Outside I looked fine, if a little tired. But inside was a whole different story. My voice sounded like a ghost, even to my own ears. “We better.”

  Sam flinched.

  ~

  The hospital was in Sky City, on Tera. It was in the older sector of the city and somewhat rundown: government built and sponsored. Storing David here was probably a trick to keep him safe from curious journalists. It wasn’t a very prosperous time for newshounds, and the whole fiasco with the judge and the three day hostage situation had been a rare boon for them. Now that the news was old, they’d be looking for a fresh kill. And David’s story would be the perfect side dish.

  I sat in the waiting area, trying to muster the courage to face whatever was before me. I wasn’t afraid of facing David- he would be hooked up to machines and drowsy on drugs. I was afraid to face what Sam said about him. ‘He’s apparently still in love with you.’ I shivered, but I couldn’t tell whether it was from a happy thrill or a fear thrill. Ugh.

  I leaned forward, head in my arms. I felt a hand on my back, stationary, but not heavy.

  Sam spoke up. "You might not want to see him, but it would be a…gesture." His voice was tight.

  I frowned, wondering about his swapped personality. Of course it would be a gesture. But that didn’t mean I wanted to do it. There was something bugging him. But I didn’t have the energy to figure out what.

  “Sam. What’s up? Why are you so tight-lipped? Like I’ve done something unforgiveable. Why are you angry with me?” My voice sounded muffled and dead.

  He sighed and I could make out a faint curse under his breath. “I’m sorry. I’m really not angry with you, just the situation.” He pensively drummed his fingers along the back of my chair. “It all depends on what you want.” He finally spoke, softly.

  “What depends?”

  He sighed again. “On whether you choose to go with David, wherever the Federation wants to take him, or if you decide to go on without him.”

  “Go with David?” I found the idea preposterous, as evidenced by my tone of voice, but Sam wasn’t paying attention.

  “Whatever you decide, you’ll have the Federation to protect you.” He spoke even lower, “And you’ll have me.” He paused and continued when I opened my mouth to object to the absurdity of the thought. "He’s going to live. He’s going to recover and be as good as new. He owes you, he knows he owes you. And if he can make you happy…”

  I sputtered. He didn’t know how I felt then… Or he didn’t like it. He didn’t want to say the truth. But what else is there to say?

  I froze. Sam was encouraging me to get back with my ex- what did this mean? A massive black hole of darkness opened like a pit within my stomach. It ached with a pain
that was not love. It was regret; it was guilt. It was anger. It was… shock. Suddenly the dots were starting to connect. "He wasn’t trying to kill me- was in fact trying to save me?” I felt my voice floating somewhere outside of my body.

  His hand moved in repetitive circular motions on my upper back. “Yeah.” A respectful pause. “It’s hoped that if he sees you, he’ll confess.”

  “I see.” I looked down, twirling my loosened thumb ring around and around. I kept staring. "So that bullet he took- he was protecting me? From his own cartel?" I spoke carefully, eyes attuned to his mannerisms, feverishly hoping for tells.