by Alex Nast
But do I really want to risk having it on me? I pick it up but don't pull it out of the hole. I feel it's weight, admire the smooth, black, blocky shape of it. Just holding it makes me feel more powerful. And safe.
One more look around, to make sure no one is watching, then I quickly stash the gun in the waist of my pants and pull my bulky shirt down over top of it. A shiver of something shoots down my spine. Excitement or dread. Maybe both.
The bundle of cash goes in my pocket with the velcro flap on it. Impossible to pick pocket it out of there without me noticing.
I kick the dirt back in to the hole for no real reason while I contemplate the next place I need to go. Arthur's. Felix would have been so much simpler. If I'd known this would all end with me in the same room as Arthur again, needing something from him, I would have taken the risk of trying to kill Victor. Because Arthur is the only person that's seen my face and lived. And I certainly tried to tie up that loose end, but Arthur has the kind of cold, reptilian intelligence that makes a person uniquely hard to kill. That, plus the many body guards and the fortress that he lives in.
But there's only one person I know that has the connections to smuggle a person out of the city, and that's Arthur. I give the hole one last good kick and then turn and start walking. Fuck it, Arthur's place it is. I'll be just one more anonymous masked face. He'll never know it's me.
I start walking and I'm there before I'm mentally prepared to be. This is another place I swore I'd never come back to.
Arthur's compound is on the edge of the heart of the city, where dusty streets and people in rags give way to tall shiny buildings filled with beautiful faces, unhidden and proudly displayed. And separating the two worlds, a whole squad of special forces military guarding the gated road in, flanked by two massive cement walls that stretch off in to the distance. A walled city within the city.
Arthur's place is just one more ugly building butting up against the cement wall. But the shabby outside is only a facade. The walls are reinforced, the windows bulletproof. And then there's the rumor of the tunnel, going under the wall to the inner city.
Arthur has friends in high places, no doubt, but he's happy to take anyone's business. That's why he makes his home on this side of the wall.
"Stop wasting time," I mutter to myself. For all I know the Towers are already spreading their tentacles outwards, looking for me. I need to leave New Seattle now, before I can't leave.
I set one foot in front of the other and soon I'm pulling the door open, walking inside somewhere I'd sworn I'd never return to. The inside is the same as I remember. Stark and unadorned, a few tables and chairs, a coffee maker pumping out a never ending supply of something that isn't coffee, and a lot of criminals lounging around. It's the early hours of the morning outside, the sun getting ready to come up, but in here business never stops.
All kinds of deals get done at Arthur's place. It's a place for all the worst of the city to come and talk and make arrangements. Drugs, weapons, assassinations... it can all be had for a very reasonable price here. But smuggling is not something that can be bought from any of the minor criminals lounging in the lobby. Not many people want to leave the city, and the Towers need the poor and the desperate bursting from the seams of the city, so they make sure it's difficult to leave. We're fodder for the machine that keeps them living in luxury.
So I need to see Arthur himself.
I walk through the crowd, keeping myself ready but relaxed, making sure not to make eye contact with anyone for too long. Violence is forbidden here, but I don't trust any of them.
There is one very large man standing at the back of the room, beside a door. He's so big he looks like he's another species, or some kind of genetic experiment escaped from the inner city. For all I know that's exactly what he is. He eyeballs me as I approach.
"I need to see him," I say.
"About?"
"Seeing the countryside."
He considers me a second, looking me up and down. "Don't waste my time little girl, you can't afford it."
There's no way I'm pulling my money out in this room. I can feel the eyeballs on my back, assessing. "Fuck you I can't afford it. I could buy you from Arthur and still have enough left over to go see the countryside. Now are you going to get your boss for me or do I need to go back there myself?"
I casually place my hand on my hip, not on my knife hilt but close to it. It's all empty threat and bluster and the big man knows it. He's only trying to weed out the tourists who have no real business being here, and I'm telling him I'm no tourist.
He looks at me a second longer, then cracks a little smile and knocks his big knuckles on the door three times, slowly.
Maybe a minute goes by, but I'm patient, and finally I hear the bar being pulled back on the other side of the door. He's coming out. Almost no one goes in. Whatever's on the other side of Arthur's door is seen by precious few.
The door swings open, and there's Arthur. He's as small as the guard is big. Middle aged and thin as a rail, with a pinched, wrinkly face, beady eyes and close cut hair. He could afford to buy a new body. He might even be able to afford to buy my body. But he chooses to look the way he does. I've never bothered trying to figure that one out.
He looks me up and down critically, taking in every detail.
"She wants to see the countryside," the big man says, his eyes never leaving me.
"Third one in as many hours looking to get out of the city," Arthur replies.
The big man nods.
"We normally get, what, three a month?"
The big man nods again.
"Why do you suppose everyone is in such a rush all of a sudden to go see the countryside?"
The big man shrugs.
"Are pretty green trees growing again out there? Is there suddenly something to eat besides the usual mushy shit that those miserable neanderthals try to pass off as food?"
The big man shrugs.
"Or is it, perhaps, that the countryside is still a miserable wasteland not fit for human habitation, but suddenly the city isn't looking like such a great place to be for a certain kind of person?"
He looks at me, smiling.
Oh shit. Oh shit, why was I so stupid that I thought coming to the most connected person in the city was a good idea. Arthur is just as happy as any Body Hunter to turn over a beautiful face to the Towers, and as connected as he is to the ugly underbelly of the Towers, he would be the first person to learn about a 9.96 walking around the city.
"You think I don't recognize you?" His eyes are boring in to mine, "I'd know those eyes anywhere. 9.96 huh? I knew you had a high score, but that impresses even me, and I'm not easily impressed. My white fucking whale. I have some friends that want to meet you." He glances up at the big man. "Grab her."
I lurch back away from the big man. Like all big men he's clumsy, and he misses me.
"Ten thousand to whoever grabs her for me," Arthur says loudly to the room, pointing at me.
I'm done.
I do the only thing I can think of. I pull my gun.
10
Even bad, hard men respect a gun. It doesn't matter that I weigh a hundred pounds and am clearly terrified. Probably makes me even more dangerous. Half of my terror, however, is because I know exactly how many bullets I have. And they'll find out soon enough too.
My knife is in my other hand. I can't shoot them without any bullets, but maybe I can take one of them down with me with the knife. Small consolations.
I half expected someone else in the room to have a gun too. The military are a bunch of incompetent assholes in many ways, but the one thing that they do not tolerate is guns. They reserve that power for themselves. But no one is stepping forward to challenge me with their own gun. Even lowlife criminals don't carry guns in New Seattle apparently.
"Don't hurt her," Arthur says, coming forward, to the edge of the circle that's forming around me. "I need her alive, in one piece."
"I'm leaving," I say, trying to keep my
voice calm and steady.
"Just give it up," Arthur says, exasperated. "You're not going anywhere and you know it. Even if that thing has a full clip, and even if you fire every bullet, you're still not leaving here."
I point the gun at Arthur and smile cruelly. I'd really, really like to kill him. If I could stick my knife in his throat I'd almost consider it worth the trade of my life. Almost. The fucking snake was probably making a killing, gobbling up every desperate beautiful face that walked in the door, looking for passage out of the city. He's scum.
"In fact, bolt the front door," Arthur says to the room. "No one leaves this room without taking off their scarf."
The bolt on the front door slams shut, and I'm a little bit more screwed than I was a moment ago. Perfect.
Then, from my right side I hear a quick thrumming sound, and a body crumples to the floor on my left at my feet, a knife hilt sticking out of his eye.
My heart was racing before, but I swear I'm about to have a heart attack.
I look back to the left, incredulous, as some guy casually walks in to the circle to join me, knives in each hand. Someone else, a woman I think, moves in to the circle behind him, moving a lot less casually, watching the men in the circle carefully, knives in her hands too. They're both wearing scarves over their faces like me, both dressed in bulky, drab clothing like me.
I consider pointing my gun at this new guy too, telling him to get the hell away from me. For all I know it's just a ruse to get close enough to grab me.
"Scarves down?" the new guy says, standing beside me. "Is that the new rule?"
Out of the corner of my eye I see him pull down the scarf from across his face with the tip of a knife, revealing a face that probably scores above a 9.
Crazy bastard. At least now I know who's side he's on.
"Maz?"
"Go to hell," the girl beside him mutters.
"I'm sorry Arthur, Maz is very particular about these things, she's not going to do it. Rude I know. How about you?"
He's looking at me.
Every instinct inside of me is screaming to keep my scarf right where it is. But I remember how damned good it felt in the park, to just sit there without anything on my face, knowing that I wasn't going to be another Tower victim anymore. If I'm going to die here I'll do it with my face uncovered.
With my knife hand I drag my scarf down around my neck.
"Oh well," the new guy says, still looking at me, "I can see what all the fuss is about."
I watch the eyes of the men facing me as I reveal myself. Some look surprised, others like they want to rip the rest of my clothes off. The ones that look at me like a piece of meat though, the way Victor looked at me. I know those are the dangerous ones.
For a half second I take my eyes off Arthur and the big guy and look at this new guy. He looks just as relaxed as I'm pretending to be. He seems like he's actually enjoying himself. But his beautiful face is not perfect, there is one long, thin scar running down through his eyebrow and continuing on his cheek. It looks too tidy to have come from a fight. It looks like he did it himself.
Thing is, the Towers can fix a scar like that. It doesn't affect his score at all. I wonder if he knew that before he did it.
I put my eyes back on Arthur.
"Get us the fuck out of here Oliver," the girl Maz mutters, too quiet for the circle around us to hear.
Oliver puts his head down beside mine, his mouth close to my ear. "How many bullets do you have in that thing?"
I hesitate, then shake my head at him. Hope he'll figure out what it means.
"Right."
He moves around to the other side of me and retrieves his knife from the eye socket of the dead man at my feet, his hand drifting to my hip as he does it. I'm not used to being touched. Most people who get close enough to lay their hands on me are people I end up killing.
His hand feels electrifying.
Is he hitting on me? Now? He really does seem to be having fun.
"Look, Oliver is it?" Arthur is trying to get some control back, "you and your friend are free to leave. All I want is her." Arthur points at me.
"Even though I killed your friend?"
"He wasn't my friend."
Oliver turns in to a blur in my peripheral vision, and then the big guy beside Arthur drops to the floor, lifeless, a knife hilt in his eye now.
And I thought I was quick with a knife.
"Was he your friend?"
Arthur quickly backs out of the circle, out of the line of sight of Oliver. Now the circle of men around us isn't looking so happy to be there. They have knives, a few machetes, but between my gun and Oliver's knives and whatever damage the other girl Maz can do with the wickedly curved knives she has, this isn't going to end well for a few of them.
If they knew how many bullets I had it might change things. But they don't.
"Who's next?" Oliver walks around now, completely owning the circle, and they all back up a little away from him, just as afraid of his confidence as the knives he's holding. He reaches down and pulls the knife free of the eye socket of the big man. "Do you cowards not realize how much money is standing in front of you? Between the three of us, any one of you could live for centuries in a cushy Tower suite. Maybe even a penthouse! Cute little slave girls dropping grapes in your mouth, taking care of your every need? No?"
No one takes him up on the offer. Beautiful faces are supposed to run, to be afraid. They are the hunters and we are the prey. But not Oliver.
"Well if no one else wants to play, I suppose we're leaving." He walks to the back of the circle, behind me. "Come on ladies," he says, "time to go."
I turn, slowly, keeping my gun up, watching for anyone making a last ditch attempt, but Oliver has cowed them all. It's one of the most amazing things I've ever seen.
I watch as the sea of men between him and the door parts, and he walks and unbolts it. Maz follows close on his heels. He puts his scarf back up over his head, and as I join the two of them I do the same.
"Goodbye Arthur," Oliver calls out to the back of the room. There's no reply as we slip out in to the morning light.
11
We all walk away from Arthur's place together, Oliver in front and Maz behind but off to the side, so that I can see her in my peripheral vision. It doesn't feel like a coincidence that she's walking there. I look for an opportunity to leave right away, to slip away in to the crowd maybe, but some part of me wants to see where this is going. I've never met anyone else like me.
I always wanted someone to share life with, and in my more desperate moments I thought about trying to find someone else like me. But it always seemed like a terrible idea to be in the same space as another 9. Twice the prize for the same amount of effort for any Body Hunter. Better to go it alone.
But these two seem like they've been together awhile. They're comfortable around each other, and I'm desperate to know how they've done it. They have the life that I've always wanted, and I have a horrible sinking feeling in my stomach that I could have had it too, if I'd only been brave enough. I don't know if they're friends or lovers or brother and sister and I don't really care. I just want to understand.
And maybe, join them.
Oliver leads us to a quiet alleyway, and finally turns around. He casually pulls his scarf down again, and on instinct I look around, to see who is within eyesight, who is watching, who might see.
"Relax," he says, "no one is going to bother us. And if they do..." he does a little flourish with his hand. One second it's empty the next there's a knife in it, twirling between his fingers. "Thing is, if you drop your scarf and act like it's the most natural thing in the world, no one will bother you. They won't even look twice at you." He winks at me.
"It's because he's a guy," Maz says, joining us. "It's easier to spot a girl with a 9 face. Harder to spot the guys. And the guys are worth less, and Oliver's scar... That's why no one looks twice at him. At least in a back alley. The one time he tried this in a marketplace didn't
work out so well."
I relax just a fraction. "Okay." Then, totally on impulse, I take my scarf off too. I make sure to keep my back to the mouth of the alley, and keep an eye out for any movement coming from the other direction. But it feels amazing. So free. I remind myself that I'm not going to be a victim anymore. I'm not a thing.
Oliver smiles, surprised. He's looking so intently at me though. I'm used to eyes sliding right off of me. If anyone looks at me too long I know they're thinking about doing bad things to me. But Oliver... he just seems curious, in a really intense sort of way. It's a little unnerving. Makes me feel self-conscious.
Maz gives me longer, considering look too. "Well you already know our names, so who are you?"
"Juno." I have a million questions, but I'm completely tongue-tied all of a sudden. How do I talk to these people?
"Well Juno, do you know how badly you've screwed all of us? There are people going around yanking scarves off faces in the markets. Body Hunters posted up in the alleys. Rumor is even the private Tower security forces are getting in on the action, looking for the next beautiful face for their bosses. There's even talk about new checkpoints where you have to reveal your face."
"Maz relax," Oliver says. "It's not like she did it on purpose."
"No one even thought something like you could exist," Maz continues, sounding a little less angry, "but now that they've seen you they think there's more like you out there, walking around right under their noses."
"Oh, I've inconvenienced you?" I might not know how to relate to these two but I can do angry easily enough. "You think I got caught and escaped just for the hell of it? Fuck you."
