No panicking, it tells me. Just wait for the beep and press the button on your control pad. It’s there on your right forearm, stitched into your suit, remember? You’re a southpaw, so they had to make this suit up special. You ordered it and then you stole it. What were you, eighteen? Had this suit that long, have you? It’s time for a new one.
Following its instructions, I wait for the beep. My helmet is tuned in to my gear, so I’ll be able to hear it despite the overwhelming sound of the air rushing past my body. The ground still seems like it’s eons away, but I can’t help but think of bones breaking and the crunch of impact. It feels like days since I jumped. Sweet sky! Where is the beep?
Fuck it!
I reach over to the control pad and press the button. The familiar hiss announces that the glider is deploying quickly and without complaint. A small engine bursts to life. I keep my eyes closed until I feel the pull of the wind under the glider’s silk wings. Taking deep breaths, sinking deeper into the stillness, I refuse to let my fear take control. I’m okay…I’m all right…I’m safe. All I can do now is hope that the bounty hunter isn’t on my tail.
Once I am gliding through the air, I risk looking back at the cliffs. The copter continues to hover over the tourists; no one is giving chase. Desert-humpers are never well organized. They’ll argue amongst themselves for hours before they make a decision. Sighing in relief, careful not to look down, I turn the glider towards my destination.
The City is sprawled out over the horizon. The small engine strapped to my back isn’t made for long trips, but it should get me close enough to walk back. Flying low enough so that my terror doesn’t take over, I plot my route on autopilot. The low-grade guidance system gurgles angrily before accepting my instructions. I glide silently along, eager to get back to my bed and fall asleep for a year.
2
I land about a quarter mile away from the City wall. The small glider folds neatly back into its pack. Heart still racing from my escape, I have to take deep breaths to stop my body from shaking. The ground doesn’t feel like it’s under my feet. A couple of times I almost collapse, but I hold on to myself.
It isn’t much further. I should be back in bed before nightfall. For the next few weeks I’ll lay low, rest up until I’m ready to get back out here. No sense in rushing.
The sun is ready to bake me where I stand. Using my control-pad, I set the bio-conditions in my suit. The controls complain and the suit starts to whine. A high-pitched squeal, like air escaping a tiny hole, invades my ears. Grimacing in pain, I open the pad and take a look at its guts: a wire is hanging loosely from its plug. I set it straight, jam the pad shut and press the buttons again. The air in the suit kicks in and I sigh in relief.
By now the Cops will have my image buzzing over every frequency. My original plan to ride back in through a legitimate doorway, all of which are monitored by Cops, will definitely get me bound and gagged.
Lucky for me, there are more illegal doorways than there are legal ones. Without my balance, however, I can’t pay to get back in. Most Criminals will ask for a favour if you’re low on credits, but no one will deal with me. I’m a Hack. There’s no way for me to deliver. As far as I know, my old friend Radcliff is the only one who will let me in without payment. I don’t want to see him, but Luck has taken away every other option. It almost feels like I was funnelled here.
Radcliff’s doorway is located near an unusual rock formation, skinny stones jutting out of the dust like gnarled fingers. They’re easy to spot but they’re also a popular place for patrols to stop for a rest. Taking out a small pair of binoculars, I nervously check for desert-humpers. When I don’t see anything I check again, and then once more—I’m not taking any chances.
Racing towards the wall, I’m not fooled by it’s seemingly smooth, grey surface. Somewhere around here is Radcliff’s doorway. It wouldn’t be much good if it was easy to find. Rocks about the size of my fist lie nearby. Squatting down, I pick the nearest one up. No response. I continue my search until one makes a sound. There’s a small microphone embedded in the rock.
Putting it next to my mouth, I hope that Radcliff in a generous mood. “You wouldn’t let an old friend fry out here, would you?”
A half a moment later, a human-sized circle slides back and to the side. Radcliff Ivan, pasty faced from lack of sun, puts up a hand to block his eyes against the harsh light. He spent six months in the Prison. Three years later and he still looks just as wrecked as the day he got out. Like all Hacks he never went back into action and never will.
If I could have gotten him out of that place I would have, but there’s no rescuing anyone from the Prison. You don’t come out until it spits you out. I guess that’s pretty much how I feel—like somebody’s been chewing on me for the last two years.
It didn’t occur to me until now how much I don’t want to be here. Just looking into his faded gaze scares me to death.
Those are my eyes; that half-dead stare is seeping through the cracks of my shaky control. But I could have sworn, on the Desert Roads, in that glorious moment of triumph, that I’d finally outrun my own reflection. There was no past there—no pain or fear or trauma. There was no Prison.
Why can’t I hold onto that?
Staring at me with an expression of open concern, Radcliff gapes at my sudden reappearance on the Criminal grid. He raises his hand in greeting while his tired half-smile brightens his haggard features. A broken gaze, aglow with friendship, welcomes me home.
“It’s good to see you,” he says, blinking hard in the sun. It sounds like he hasn’t used his voice in weeks. He gently takes in my worn-out appearance. “You look a little like I feel.” Stepping aside, he grants me access to his small hideout. “I thought I recognized your suit on the frequency but I didn’t believe it was you until now. The Cops have got pictures of you jumping off a cliff and sailing towards the City. They’ll all be looking for you.”
That was the last thing I needed to hear. As far as I’m concerned my little excursion was a terrible mistake.
Exhausted and miserable, I step into his hideout and study the small, square room. Rocks of all different shapes, colours and sizes fill every available nook except for the bed. Ever since the Prison, Radcliff has collected them. They’re his only love now.
“Too bad you had to run from the desert-humpers,” he says, following me like a puppy. The doorway slides closed, locking us into his small space. “When you’re fresh out of lock-up it’s hard to be face to face with the Cops. Three months was probably too early.” Biting his already destroyed nails, he sucks at the bleeding soars on the tips of his fingers. “You should have waited before going out there again, right? I didn’t go anywhere for six months. You guys couldn’t drag me out or I’d start screaming. I don’t really remember screaming, but you told me that’s what I’d do, so that must have been what I was doing. Friends don’t make shit like that up.”
My silence is getting him all worked up. He blinks rapidly and huffs a few times. Still chewing on the tips of his fingers, he spits a large chunk of his own flesh onto the ground. I don’t want to watch but I’m too sickened to turn away. It’s too close—what he’s saying, what he’s doing—I can feel it trembling under my skin. My arms are covered with fine scars, the only evidence I have of episodes that I don’t remember. But I know when they’re coming. Watching Radcliff is triggering one.
I shoot him a hostile glare that stops him in his tracks. In my mind, I’m screaming at him to shut up and fuck off. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he could hear every word. But Radcliff has no psychic talent. Still, the light in his eyes dies and his chest caves in. Head down, empty gaze lowered and shoulders hunched, he does his best to disappear from the room. I’ve seen him do this countless times, but this is the first time that it’s been because of me. Ashamed of my weakness, I have to turn away.
Radcliff doesn’t owe me anything, but he let me in out of loyalty and friendship. Something tells me it’s time to rethink my repaym
ent strategy.
“I’ve got something for you,” I say, too loudly. Reaching into my small ankle pack, I withdraw a blue, glittering rock. I was going to keep it for myself, but ass-holes shouldn’t give themselves gifts. “I found it before I started my ride.”
Radcliff’s eyes light up again. Without raising his head, he carefully reaches out and I place it in his palm. He mumbles a short thank you but doesn’t risk any other movement.
“It’s all right, Radcliff. You can go.”
I’m trying to be gentle, but there’s still a worn edge in my voice. Radcliff turns away before daring to look at the small gift. Delicately, lovingly, he blows faint traces of dust off of the stone’s surface. Mumbling to himself, he goes over to a desk and produces a small polishing kit out of a drawer. He lays down a soft cloth and places the rock in its centre.
Still hating myself for hurting him, I unzip a long pocket down the front of my suit and remove my citizen clothes. Shaking, I pull on my pants and shirt. I was fooling myself when I thought I could handle going outside of my routine. I know that now. It’s time to get out of here.
I fold my suit into a neat pile then press a button on its control pad. The suit compresses, turning into a leather bag. Shoving in my helmet and the five packs I was carrying, I slide into my light jacket and rush for the door.
“Daryl,” Radcliff calls quietly, “things have changed out there. Be careful.”
He’s still too scared to look me in the eyes. That’s probably a good thing: I’m too fragile to be gentle. I mumble a short thank you before making a hasty retreat.
3
Just outside Radcliff’s hideout, a dimly lit hall leads to a ladder that climbs to a hatch. I already know what’s waiting for me on the other side. Radcliff lives under the streets of B Sector, where the Fix-its live. They keep technology running and have unlimited access to most sectors. They can’t get into A and F, though. Those sectors have special Fix-its, the gifted ones, who disappear inside and are never heard from again.
I hesitate before opening the hatch. B is chaotic, the easiest place to disappear if you need to hide, but the hatch doesn’t lead straight onto the streets. It leads into a restaurant…a popular little diner named Heidi’s. Before lock-up, it was my favourite haunt. There are too many people on the other side of the hatch who know me. But if Luck is on my side I might be able to sneak past them.
Taking a deep breath, I open the hatch and hop out into a dark utility closet.
At first, the noxious cleaners only affect my eyes. Annoyed, I rub them to neutralize the burning, but then I make the mistake of breathing. The chemicals ruthlessly enter my lungs. I gasp at the scorching sensation. Hacking uncontrollably, I collapse against the wall, knocking a mop and broom over. The ruckus makes me cringe. This whole stealth strategy isn’t going according to plan.
The utility closet’s door swings open.
“Radcliff…?”
My old friend, Lily, squints into the darkness. On reflex I swallow my coughs, press my back against the far wall, and freeze. It’s a stupid reaction. There’s no hiding in this small space.
She peers at me curiously. Stunned by her sudden appearance, I voraciously study her familiar face, her soft eyes and long hair. A terrible yearning reaches into my heart and I start to tremble. Yanking pitilessly at my insides, it wails mournfully—you’re safe with her, you can rest now.
But I can’t rest. Safety is an illusion, a worthless fable fed to the blinkered masses. Although my heart is begging me to step forward, to call her name and collapse into her arms, I cower miserably behind a bucket full of poisonous chemicals.
Searching my frightened gaze, Lily struggles to recognize me. She boldly steps forward, reaches out and brushes my sweat-matted hair away from my face. I jerk when her soft hand gently caresses my forehead. Sweet, aching warmth travels down my spine, making it easier to breathe. It’s been so long since I’ve been touched; but I can’t let myself feel it.
Mercilessly pulling myself together, I push away from the wall and stand at my full height. Masked in stony apathy, I finally meet her curious gaze.
“Oh, my Sweet Sky…” she whispers. A look of horror passes over her face. It’s the first time she’s seen me in over two years and it’s obvious that the life has been sucked out of me. “Daryl!”
I try to answer, but my lungs have held the chemicals for too long. Hacking coughs swallow my words.
I wish I could quietly slip out the back way, but there’s no chance of that now that Lily has seen me. She isn’t a Criminal, she doesn’t fully understand how our world works. Even with the initial horror, her untameable enthusiasm is building under the surface. Eyes, at first fearful, are now filled with elation; lips, once agape with astonishment, are now turned up in a fierce grin. Any second now, her boundless energy will burst forth, swooping us both off of our feet and careening us towards the unknown. A spark of excitement ignites in my chest.
Suddenly energized, I brace myself for impact.
“Lenny!” Grabbing my shoulders Lily shoves me into the kitchen. “Sweet Sky, Lenny! Look what I dug out of the utility closet!”
Her younger brother, Lenny, the restaurant’s cook, looks up from the carrots he’s chopping. When he sees me, the knife drops out of his hands.
“Can’t you put it back?” His joke is accompanied with a lop-sided grin. Jumping towards me, he engulfs me in a giant bear hug. “It’s a damn miracle!”
Squealing happily, Lily launches herself into the hug and holds us both in her arms. With her at my back and Lenny at my front, I am completely enveloped. With a gargantuan effort, I suck back my excitement and happiness, my sorrow and relief, until I am neatly tucked behind the face of the nonchalant. Carefully holding my emotions in check, I let them have their happy reunion.
When Lenny finally lets me go tears of joy stream down his face. He searches my half-dead gaze, his own horror flickering then dying quickly.
“Man-oh-man, Daryl.” He jumps into action. “You need a real meal. Gotta keep your strength up. No nutrient bars for my pal!”
On the stove a giant pot is nearly boiling over. Pulling out a bowl, he sticks a huge ladle into the rolling stew. Lenny is the best chef around. It’s a wonder he doesn’t put in for a transfer to a better sector.
My stomach growls as he slops the food into the bowl. Lily grabs me a spoon and pushes me towards a small worktable at one side of the kitchen. Lucky me! Chocolate and Lenny’s famous beef stew all in one day. Lenny places the bowl in front of me. Thankful for real food, I dig in.
“Hyde is going to die when he sees you!” Lily cries, rushing out of the kitchen.
I put a hand out to stop her, but she’s already gone. Hyde and I were only passing friends before I went into lock-up. He’s what’s known as a roller; he gets contraband past sector wall security for the right price. As far as I know he doesn’t work for Madman, but that doesn’t mean he won’t want the reward. Credits are credits for a Criminal.
A tall and lanky, yellow-haired man walks into the kitchen. Lily is pushing on his back to make him move faster, but Hyde still moves like he has lead weights sewn into his clothes.
I anxiously meet his cool gaze, wondering if he’s looking to make a quick fortune. When he offers me an idle, predatory smile, all my questions are answered.
Fear quickly sharpens my senses. Hyde sits down next to me and carefully brushes a piece of lint off of his black suit. It looks like new material…swanky. Most people wear recycled clothes. The Collectors in Q Sector sell discarded fabrics to anyone willing to sew them into a wearable anything. Some of us can afford tailors; most of us learn how to sew at a young age.
“There are more customers coming in. We have to get back to work!” Lily calls to us as she rushes back through the door: “I’ll be right back.”
“Duty calls!” Lenny whistles happily as he returns to his orders.
The kitchen is suddenly way too hot. I am slowly being dragged into something that is way
beyond my psychological faculties. Nervously massaging my hands, I let my head fall back and crack my neck. My nerves are screaming at me to run.
Hyde casually leans back in his chair. We both know I could make a break for it, try to lose him in the streets, but it’s a foolish impulse. My instincts are telling me that Hyde would take me down in an instant. The smart thing to do is to offer my surrender and ask for a cut of the reward. In fact, it’s my only choice.
Gathering my courage I finally acknowledge that Madman is about to get what he wants. I greet the roller with a slight nod of my head. “Hyde.”
“The returning champion.” He lets out a long, deep yawn. “I’m guessing you know that Madman is looking for you.”
“I may have heard something about it.” I rest my elbows on the table and take a deep, steadying breath. “I bet you can tell me what he wants.”
“He’s looking for you to make good on a favour.”
“Favour…?” I snort indignantly. “I’ve never done business with Harcourt.”
“I’m sure Harcourt’s corpse would confirm that if anyone knew where it was.”
My heart skips a beat. Harcourt is dead… there’s a new Madman. Dare I ask…?
“Lyons Emmett,” Hyde obliges. That name makes me jump. My nervous expression is all the confirmation he needs. “I wasn’t sure if I was hearing right. People thought you were clean with everybody. I guess we all have our pasts. If his claim is legit, you may as well face the monster.”
Squeezing my eyes shut, I force my fear deep inside and prepare for battle. Fuck…of all the times for this to bite me in the ass.
“Fifty-fifty,” Hyde says, surprising me with his generosity. “Lily would kill me if I took more, and I don’t like upsetting her. She told me about what you did for her and Lenny, getting them in touch with that T Sector Baron, Beatrice-what’s-her-name…?”
The Line Page 3
