October Rain

by Morgan, Dylan J.

  Kari looked beautiful in anything she wore. When Shauna and I walked in that afternoon, she had her hair tied in a bunch atop her head. The stains and wrinkles on her shirt would have provided an excuse to rip it off had not Shauna’s innocent presence made that unthinkable. Holes in Kari’s jeans forced my gaze to the smooth, tawny skin of her legs. She wore no shoes; polished nails reflecting the lights overhead as if diamonds decorated her toes. As perfection dressed in organized chaos, Kari presented us with a wonderful smile.

  “Hi, you guys.”

  “Hey Mom,” Shauna called, removing her rucksack as she continued down the hallway.

  Pressing my thumb to the door’s scanner activated the bolt, its smooth mechanics locking out the volatile city with a hissed whisper. Stepping into the kitchen I walked towards Kari. She faced the food-preparation unit, tending to one of the meal bags.

  Slipping arms around her waist and pulling her close, my lips pressed against her soft neck. She leaned into me and a moan escaped as I kissed her. The rich fragrance of Kari’s perfume cut through the room’s humidity, and my tongue tingled against her skin.

  “I love you,” I said.

  “I love you too. How was your day?”

  “Same as always, nothing much happens.”

  Kari didn’t know the details of my profession, hopefully she’d never find out. I’d been honest enough to tell her the work was top secret, and she believed it involved some kind of research. If she ever discovered where our money really came from I’m sure her trust would die just as painfully as the listed criminals I put to justice.

  She freed one hand and reached back to run fingers through my hair. “It’s good to have you home.”

  I kissed her cheek, let my arms fall from her body, and stepped back. “Sorry Kari, but I’ve got to go back in later.”

  She twisted to face me. Her irritated expression made her beautiful in a different kind of way. “What? I thought we could spend this last night here quietly; just the three of us.”

  “I know, don’t make me feel guilty.” I walked towards the door, soaked with sweat and stifled in humid heat. “You know I’d rather be here.”

  Kari sighed. “What do you have to do? Is it that important?”

  “Yes it is. It’s not much, just a couple of things I have to finish off. I won’t be long, I promise.”

  “You’ll eat with us?”

  “Of course.”

  Kari nodded, and then turned to finish preparing our meal.

  Stepping into the hallway and pausing at a small table, I unbuttoned my coat. The telephone’s light glowed red indicating no unheard messages, and although Olympia’s phone network wasn’t always reliable, we sometimes received calls. Sliding open the small closet and pressing both thumbs simultaneously to an electronic pad, I opened the safe.

  The semi-automatic fit perfectly into the snug box.

  The hallway’s cold air pushed away the kitchen’s heat as I slipped off my jacket and hung it in the closet.

  Like almost all the apartments on level one, our home was small. The cramped hall opened into a living and eating area dominated by a round table used mostly as haphazard storage space. A set of cupboards pressed against the far wall, and further along, the washing room door stood ajar. A tatty sofa half-concealed our basic Visual Entertainment Unit and a coffee table marked by cup rings. History told of a time, long ago on a distant, forgotten Earth, when mankind’s scientific progress had led to the manufacture of a whole host of remarkable devices and incredible technology. It was all gone now, the human race staggering into poverty as it tried in vain to stave off extinction.

  Our house, located in the middle of a large apartment block, had no windows. I was grateful for that at least, as the view of an incurable city did not appeal to me. A heavy chill hung in the air. The heat of processed solar rays cooled as they filtered to the center of the apartment. When the food preparation unit was in use, it sucked all the warmth from the house. An old radio sat on a low bookcase and I switched it on before crossing the room towards Shauna’s bedroom.

  She pulled clothing from drawers before folding them neatly and flattening them in a suitcase. Her simple bedroom didn’t contain many items and wouldn’t take long to clear.

  “Hi Dad,” she said without looking up, and pulled two skirts from a low drawer.

  “Hello sweetheart.” I always greeted her that way. “Listen, bad news I’m afraid.”

  She looked at me with disappointed eyes. “I know; you’ve got to go back to work. I heard.”

  I smiled. Not much escaped her attention. “Sorry. I won’t be long, I promise.”

  “That’s okay; you do what you gotta do. I understand.”

  “I’ll still read for you before I go.”

  Those moments of quality time meant as much to me as they did to her. This time she smiled, then bent to retrieve some more clothes.

  “I should hope so,” she said.

  “You excited?”

  “About Titan? Sure, I can’t wait.”

  Watching her pack bags ready for our new life, my undying love for her climbed another notch. She still had friends on Mars, some of whom would never leave. She understood that our life together, as a family, meant more than anything else.

  “I’ll set the table,” I said, turning from her doorway.

  It took a couple of minutes to gather the disorder from the table and move it to the sofa before activating one of the automated cupboard drawers and retrieving cutlery and table mats.

  The news broadcaster on the radio sounded solemn, his distorted voice carrying despondency as he delivered the latest consignment of bad news to our community. There’d been no reply for at least a fortnight from man’s latest reach for a new world. Six months ago the most recent pathfinders established primitive bases on the dwarf planet Pluto, and her satellite Charon, but now the planet’s orbit had swung far away from the sun and all contact had been lost.

  The newsreader’s voice cracked with tearful remorse when he told his listening public those on Pluto had probably frozen to death.

  “Switch that off,” Kari said as she arrived with a plate in each hand. “It’s depressing.”

  I nodded and pressed the off button. Kari fetched the last plate and called Shauna in for dinner.

  We sat at our table for the last time, but it wasn’t a sad occasion. Kari talked with great passion about her latest art projects—the ones she’d been planning for months, those she would start and finish on our voyage to Titan. Shauna told us about her final day in school, and how a day that could have been sad became one full of enjoyment, spent with friends who would always be remembered as fond companions.

  Times like these made my life worth living.

  During our conversation Kari had asked, ‘So what about your day, darling?’ Using the excuse that my contract didn’t allow top secret discussions helped me avoid the question. They would leave me behind on this godless planet if they knew I’d added another kill to my growing list, and would soon be leaving to hunt down two more.

  The food was satisfying, the company special.

  Checking my watch revealed it was almost six o’clock. The shuttle landed at seven but it would be eight before it disembarked. In the comfort of my family two hours would go quickly.

  I keep promises to my little girl, so I read two books while she snuggled into the fold of my arm, listening attentively.

  “Will granddad be surprised to see us?” Shauna asked when I put the last book down.

  My father still controlled the smallholding on Titan, and while he knew everything that happened inside the community built around our farm, I’d not sent message of our planned emigration.

  “I know he will be,” I said.

  Shauna smiled, and then I tucked her in before planting a gentle kiss on her forehead. “I love you.”

  She knew it, but I don’t think she realized just how much.

  “I love you too.”

  I looked at her once
more from the doorway, and then turned out the light.

  In the kitchen Kari cleaned the surfaces of the cooking units with a dry cloth. She turned, and we met with a hug in the middle of the room. I kissed her mouth this time, grinding our lips together, my tongue stroking hers.

  All these years and yet our passion had not weakened.

  I wanted to pick her up, carry her to our bed and lie in her arms forever. One glance at the clock on the kitchen wall told me time was not on my side. Kari sensed it and broke the kiss.

  “I wish you didn’t have to go back to work.”

  “I wish I didn’t have to either.”

  “Then stay.”

  “I’m sorry Kari, I can’t. If I don’t get this finished before we leave, I don’t get paid.” That much was true, and we needed the money.

  She shrugged in reluctant acceptance.

  Leaning in to kiss her again, she pulled my hair, holding me inches from contact. Her mouth hung open, enticing my lips to hers, eyes begging me to taste her. She often teased me, and it only made me want her more.

  “We’ve got plenty of time for that after liftoff,” she said.

  “Promise?”

  “I promise.”

  She kissed my cheek and let me go. “Go to work.” She turned to finish cleaning the kitchen. “And be quick.”

  In the hall I took my jacket from the closet and slipped its weight onto my shoulders. Taking my gun from the safe and sliding it into the holster, its mass felt odd against my thigh for a short while before it became just another item of clothing. As I unlocked the front door Kari called after me.

  “Be safe!”

  My smile reassured her. I wished it didn’t have to be this way, that I could find some other way to support my family. Leaving this profession had never been a viable option however, because our corrupted government never gave anything for nothing. Mankind might emigrate deeper into the solar system yet a contaminated populace will always carry its ailment. Mars had served its purpose as a temporary world; the exodus began years ago, and the growth of criminality had spread. We might have been granted a new start in a new world, but a government contract lasts a lifetime.

  Stepping into the outside hall and locking the door, loneliness escorted me to the Arrivals Hall.

  FIVE

  Hawkes would stand out in any crowd and became even more conspicuous entering the open-plan Arrivals Hall with only eight other disembarking passengers. They’d just been through sanitization showers, and the dark skin of Hawkes’ bald head glistened under artificial lighting. Thick storm clouds hastened the onset of night, yet he donned sunglasses the moment he cleared the last customs booth.

  I took a sip of alcohol as Hawkes bought confections at the information cubicle. His bland, full-length coat probably concealed a weapon, and the black briefcase chained to his wrist probably contained money. I had no way of knowing whether he was loaded in either capacity. I doubted he carried a gun at that moment; he’d just passed through the security scanners. Still, the odds were pretty much in favor of an affirmative answer. Shifting my weight on the tiny stool, I glanced around the hall. The murmur of arriving passengers continued to disturb the silence, but otherwise the area seemed more subdued than it had earlier in the day. The shops had closed; no lovers were out walking, no children played by the landscaped gardens. Nobody waited to meet Hawkes from the shuttle.

  Despite the opportunity provided by the hall’s apparent emptiness, Hawkes remained momentarily off limits. Not for the first time I cursed the laws I worked by which prevented me from putting a bullet into his brain in an open public place. I brought my attention back to Hawkes as the muscular man left the booth and crossed the concourse to a bank of cabinets. Set low in an extensive wall, the large safe deposit boxes were stacked in rows like lockers in a gym changing room.

  Hawkes paused at one of them before taking a cautionary look over his shoulder.

  I eased myself from the stool and unbuttoned my coat. He slid a key into the locker and swung the door open. Hawkes tried his best to conceal the cabinet’s contents without much success. He removed a long-barreled weapon and secreted it inside his coat with one smooth transfer. I’d seen enough of the gun’s grey body to know my job had just become much harder. He locked the door, took a brief look at his surroundings, and headed for the transfer node.

  I downed my drink and left the bar.

  At ten minutes after eight, Olympia hung on the edge of an odd form of limbo. Families, and those with any common sense, locked themselves away in their homes. The criminal fraternity, and people who were either very brave or incredibly stupid, would soon be loitering along the district’s darkening boulevards.

  To me it seemed the city had blown out the last of its daytime breath and had begun to inhale in preparation for an arduous night. Pushing a slab of gum into my mouth, I rounded the information booth. Hawkes had gone.

  “Shit.”

  My hand rested on the butt of my weapon as I climbed the platform steps. The next pod wouldn’t arrive for another five minutes. There was only one place my target could have gone. Moving walkways ran parallel to the transit pod tracks, a more leisurely way of gaining access to different districts within the city. Enclosed inside the trusses with access limited to either end, they provided no means of escape. Further up, a man dragged his black suitcase behind him, its wheels chattering noisily on the walkway’s non-slip surface.

  Hawkes had passed him already and was making good progress towards the subsequent junction.

  I contemplated taking the next pod that came along, but dismissed the idea. It wasn’t due for some minutes, and then I’d need to wait before it pulled away from the station. Even though the pod moved quicker than the accelerating walkway, Hawkes would have disappeared by the time it reached the next stop.

  With no other choice I stepped onto the walkway.

  It took me a couple of steps before I found my natural stride. The walkway climbed one-hundred eighty meters to the second level’s first district, and the steep gradient didn’t help my advance. The man with the suitcase heard my approach and paused to let me pass.

  Slowing my pace, I kept my distance from Hawkes to avoid detection. My soft-soled boots didn’t make too much noise on the escalator’s tread, and I hoped any sound would be hidden beneath the clatter of the man’s suitcase. When the opportunity presented itself, I needed to finish the job quickly. I had no intention of turning this confrontation into a pursuit through Olympia’s housing estates. Apart from the briefcase, Hawkes carried no other luggage. Assuming his stay on Mars was intended to be brief I hoped to ensure his visit would be even shorter.

  Hawkes slowed and reached inside his jacket. He took something out and bowed his head to look at it. Using my thumb to flip the holster’s holding clasp clear, my fingers slid around the gun’s stock.

  Inhaling deeply, I calmed myself, quelling any chance of adrenaline override.

  Hawkes began to speak into a mobile phone. The cell network inside the city had a worse reputation than the landline system, but it was still possible to make a connection. His voice drifted down the tunnel, but I couldn’t make anything out. The damn suitcase rolling behind me drowned out any decipherable conversation. It might have been Pierce on the other end, but I had no way of knowing. Hawkes nodded twice, then cleared the call and slipped the phone back into his pocket.

  He neared the escalator’s end and I quickened my step.

  Turning, his jacket open, Hawkes had a hand thrust through a hole in his pocket bringing the gun level.

  Without thinking about cushioning my fall, I collapsed, perhaps a second before the muzzle flared and the exploding gunshot roared in the enclosed passageway. The man behind me made no sound as the bullet struck him, but his body thudding onto the metal walkway echoed off the curved roof above. Leaning back, I squeezed the trigger with my gun still in the holster. My aim was off, but Hawkes moved when the shot ricocheted off the handrail. Wrenching the gun free I scrambled t
o my feet. All government laws went out the window.

  The only rule now was to kill or be killed.

  Keeping low, I scanned the end of the walkway. Hawkes hadn’t gone far; I spotted him crouching beside a fake landscaping bush. His gunshot cracked through the city’s simulated atmosphere. Disturbed air brushed my cheek as his bullet sped towards the solid exterior wall. Sucking air, I fell forward and pressed the trigger twice. I didn’t hit my target, but the rustle of imitation leaves and the snap of manmade bark told me I’d been close.

  A fixed bench made of Martian bedrock prevented me from sprawling face first onto the floor. Wincing as my shoulder caught its edge I turned and sank behind the bulky seat. Risking a glance, I saw Hawkes make a break for it. He cracked off a few rounds as he ran, firing blindly in an effort to keep my head down. It worked, but I paid no heed to splintering metal and popping concrete as shells careened through static air. Instead, I calmly flipped my magazine to rapid fire.

  A pod had come into the station and it paused at the platform, doors closed, as if waiting to know the gunfight’s outcome. Hawkes beat desperately on the automatic doors, and they opened with an unmistakable hiss. I emerged from temporary refuge and located my target inside the empty pod, half visible though the window. Having lost his sunglasses, his eyes widened when he saw me. Anticipating my next move, he dropped from sight. The pod began to glide from the platform as I emptied the magazine.

  Metal squealed, and black holes resembling eye sockets materialized across the pod’s body. Wild shots punctured windows, and the thick glass vibrated under the onslaught. The smaller, front pane shattered within its housing.

  The pod lurched from its tracks and leaned against the far platform. Stressed metal groaned, sounding like the pod’s dying breath. The windows on that side popped loose under the pressure.