The Line

by K J Southworth

  “I’m not taking any orders,” a grave voice replies. Turning around, I stare into Locket’s unfathomable blue eyes.

  “Tell that to Lyons,” I say. Locket doesn’t react. Looming above me, he awaits my explanation. This is it; there’s no turning back. “I’ve got something to show you.”

  “Is it worth eight hundred credits?” he growls.

  I don’t reply. Gathering my courage, I stand and grab my bag off the floor. The bartender shoots me a nervous smile as I leave. He’ll be telling stories about the woman who summoned Madman’s General for months to come. I don’t bother looking behind me; I know Locket is following.

  The grate is around the corner. The Cop Sector wall watches us stoically as I slide the heavy iron to the side. I gesture for Locket to go first. He looks contemptuously into the darkness.

  “Your curiosity brought you this far,” I point out.

  “Half-deads first,” he returns.

  I slip my bag over my shoulders and descend, once more, into the sewers. When I’m on the ground, Locket jumps in after me. Standing in the ankle deep water, his lips curl in distaste.

  “I hate sewers,” he grumbles under his breath.

  “Stop whining,” I grumble back. My guilt is making me bold.

  “You’re gift wrapping justifiable homicide, Sewer Rat.”

  “Y Sector,” I identify, pointing at the ground. It’s time to get this over with. Wasting no time, I grab the pipe under the water. The field glows green as I move through it, “Cop Sector.”

  Intrigued, Locket straightens. Stepping towards me he jumps back when the field flashes blue. “Jesus Christ!”

  “Who…?”

  He shoots me an angry glare. “Nobody you know.”

  Securing the pipe under the cinderblock, I watch Locket examine the burn on his knuckles. Hesitantly, I offer him my hand. He glares at it, not sure he can trust me. Staring hard into my eyes, he finally takes it and I pull him towards me. He resists half way through the field. Green energy glows around him; a faint buzzing sensation travels through his arm and into mine.

  “A Sector,” he whispers. Warily, he steps the whole way through. “How?”

  The question is rhetorical. He already knows I won’t reveal my secret. Letting go of my hand, he moves back through the field. With a growl of frustration he paces restlessly around the Y Sector tunnel.

  “You’re not actually planning to give this to Lyons, are you?” he asks.

  Unsure if I heard him correctly I fix him with a quizzical gaze. “You’re my proof. Why else would I bring you down here?”

  “You’re not stupid, Daryl.” Locket pins me with his cold gaze. “You know what it means if he gets this.”

  I’m too confused to speak. He should be excited. Wulff explained that Locket started working with Madman to gain absolute power. This line to A is exactly what he wants…isn’t it?

  Holding Locket’s intense gaze I step back through the field. “Why are you working for Madman?”

  “None of your business,” he snaps. “You just complicated everything. This was supposed to be impossible. You should have just joined Madman like everyone else.”

  I snarl at his threatening glare. “Or let you kill me.”

  “That might be preferable.”

  The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I’m in a vulnerable situation. Down here, there’s nothing to stop Locket from putting me down. Where there are no crowds, there are no rules. It was my mistake bringing him here, but I thought he wanted the line. For a moment, I consider fighting. My hands ball into fists even though I know it’s futile.

  Then it occurs to me—this is the miraculous option I was searching for: Madman doesn’t get the line to A. Uninhibited relief and happiness lightens the heavy weight on my shoulders.

  “My death solves all problems,” I finally agree. Locket’s brow furrows in confusion. “You, of all people, must have known I would never join Madman. Just do it.”

  Locket step towards me; he’s so close I can feel his chest rise and fall. My heart jumps into my throat. Despite my willingness to sacrifice my life, my mind is still screaming at me to run. Searching Locket’s intense gaze, I wait for his hands to encircle my head. To make it easier, I close my eyes. One quick jerk and this will all be over.

  “There’s one chance,” Locket says softly. My eyes fly open. “Lyons hasn’t considered the possibility that you might find a line to A. Once I corroborate your story the surprise will throw him. His only priority is the destruction of the independents. If you slip through his fingers, you will give hope to his enemies. It’s possible that he’ll forget the advantage of owning the line and concentrate on capturing you.”

  “Get him to overplay,” I murmur. Hope flares inside of me. “He might make a mistake.”

  Locket nods. “He’s over-confident right now. You can use that.”

  I consider his words carefully. “I’ll have to goad Lyons into coming after me in front of everyone. He’s a calm man...it won’t be easy. What if I fail?”

  “I’ll make sure I’m standing right next to him.” Locket fingers the wicked knife on his hip. “Lyons cannot have this line. Even without it he’s moving people around like pawns. He’s driving up prices on necessities and destroying people if they can’t pay.”

  “Destroying…?”

  “Trust me, Sewer Rat,” he charges, “you do not want to hear about his little closet of wonders. It isn’t about pain with him, it’s about horror. He doesn’t look like much, but he’s a meticulous little fuck, and I will not live under his absolute rule. If I fail we’re better off dead, but if you succeed get the hell out. Afterwards, we’re not friends. You give me a reason and I’ll take you down. It’s up to you what you do with the line. Destroy it, keep it: it doesn’t concern me.”

  “I’ll make sure to tell Lyons that I’m moving it. He won’t be able to use you to get to it.”

  His serious expression softens. “I can take care of myself, Sewer Rat. Worry about your own neck for now.”

  “That’s all I ever worry about,” I reply.

  “I’ll wait here in Y to give you time to get back to B before me. The lower tunnels are best. I don’t want Lyons to suspect that I withheld information. When you contact Madman ask Ishida to bring you in. He’ll be quick and efficient. When I walk in late do not make eye contact, but make sure and wait until I’m there before you tell him.”

  I shoot him a teasing look. “Are you sure you thought of everything?”

  Locket grabs me around the waist. Lifting me up to the hanging ladder, he offers me words of advice. “You’ve got strong instincts. Don’t forget to use them.”

  It didn’t even occur to me to struggle when he grabbed me to help me up. Head swimming, I climb up to the grate and look back down. Locket is staring at the shirt-swaddled pipe. He’s tempted to destroy the line, but I don’t wait to see if he does. Slipping back onto the streets, I head directly for the lower tunnels. Locket can do as he pleases.

  23

  I’m going to betray Locket.

  It’s an easy decision; I’m not wrestling with my conscience at all. The simple truth is that I’m better off if both Lyons and Locket are dead. When I present Lyons with the line to A, I’ll put on a small show but then falter. Locket will have no choice but to kill him. Once Lyons is dead, his bodyguards will rip his assassin apart. I know it; Locket knows it. With both of them put down for good, the line to A will fall back into my hands. All those years ago, lying on a cold recovery table, I made a deal with Lyons Emmett, not Madman. It’s a technicality, but the new boss won’t argue. I’ll be free and the secret of the line will stay with me. The only way my plan doesn’t work is if Lyons survives. But I’m not worried—Locket never fails.

  All that remains is to watch them die.

  John Ishida finds me minutes after I contact Madman. He’s a General, like Locket, so it’s part of his job to escort Lyons’ preferred victims to the slaughter. Quietly nursing a beer, I wa
tch him stride into the dark pub. I don’t know him very well but his immediate appearance is unsettling. The other Generals, Orion Dennis and Stephen Arik, are probably already at Lyons’ side, eagerly awaiting the announcement of my failure.

  Ishida scans the dimly lit bar. His empty expression falls on me and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. This strange, abyss-like man makes me uneasy. Years before I scraped my way off the streets, Ishida was an enforcer for Madman who silently tore out throats when commanded. He destroyed his lover’s crew when she couldn’t follow through on a deal. Amber was what’s known as a shadow; she preferred stealth and avoided violence. Rumour has it Ishida didn’t even flinch when he killed her.

  Disquieted by the nothingness in his eyes, I hesitantly salute the impassive General. He doesn’t return the weak greeting. Instead, he stands completely still by the door, waiting for me to come to him. I take one last, courage-boosting gulp of my beer. There’s no time for dread anymore.

  We don’t have far to go. Ishida is leading me straight to Braggs Bar. For now, the booze I consumed before the General found me is enough to keep me calm,. With every step, I concentrate on my undeniable victory. I tell myself I’m going to savour their shock and disappointment before swaggering triumphantly out of their plans forever. Soon, this will all be over. I’ll be free to explore a life that doesn’t mess with my last shreds of sanity.

  But no plan is foolproof. There’s always the chance that Locket is planning on betraying me. In fact, that makes far more sense than him suddenly turning noble and turning down the chance for absolute power. My mind races as I try to understand what Locket’s true stake is in all of this. Searching for clarity, I look up towards the bright blue sky, but a cloud is passing overhead. Dark and ominous, it heralds a troubling storm; flashes of lightning illuminate its swirling, chaotic interior. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I realize this is the storm I watched with Selim this morning. Awe-struck, I watch it bear down on the late afternoon sun.

  News is spreading fast. B Sector has been waiting for my return. People on the streets point our way. They run into buildings and, when they come out again, scores of others exit with them. Whispering amongst themselves, they wait until I pass before joining the growing mass of people who are following me. A little girl runs ahead, shouting at the top of her lungs.

  “It’s Daryl! She’s back! Everybody, it’s time!”

  Citizens poke their heads out of their windows. Gasping in excitement, a woman yells at her friends to save her a space. Others take one look at the crowd and rush out of their homes.

  Scowling unhappily, Ishida raises an eyebrow. That’s interesting: there aren’t many things that unnerve him. Wary of his presence, the people keep their distance. When Ishida glowers at them they instinctively move back a few paces. But he can’t make them scatter. There are too many of them now.

  Daunted by the commotion, I instinctively stay close to my escort. Clarissa Tyler told me I was being watched, Wulff warned me the people needed a hero, but I didn’t understand their desperation until now. But I should have known. They hung their hopes on the belief that a Hack can slip through Madman’s fingers. By some miracle, I pulled it out, but their anticipation is still crushing me. I never asked for this responsibility and I hate them for placing their future in my hands.

  When we reach Bragg’s Bar, Ishida ushers me in. Unable to trust the crowd behind me, I instinctively hesitate on the threshold. The air is too still. The people aren’t talking, they aren’t moving. I can feel their eyes on my back, pushing me into the bar’s darkness, urging me to rescue them from their fate. But I’m not sure what my success truly gives them. Hope? How long before they realize that Madman still has just as much power as it did before I walked into this bar? The citizens are as shortsighted as the orphans right now. They’re living too close to ruin to understand that all they get from my success is the illusion of freedom.

  A cool and terrible gust of wind races through the streets. Howling around us like a crazed animal, it laughs mockingly at my cynicism.

  “Let me through,” a familiar voice demands. People yelp in protest as somebody elbows them aside. “Get your arm out of the way or I’ll break it. Sir, you’d better hope your first punch puts me down. Matilda! Save me a dance later.”

  Wulff bursts out of the crowd. Flashing me a confident look, he takes his place at my side before giving my hand an encouraging squeeze. Now that he’s here, my pessimism is slowly draining away.

  “Sorry I’m late! Let’s get this over with, I need to fix the trucks transmission.”

  Ishida places his hand on Wulff’s chest. “You’re not invited.”

  “You don’t really think I’m going to let her go in there alone, do you?” Wulff doesn’t bother removing Ishida’s hand. “How many Generals are in there? All of them, I’m guessing. Lyons gets his side-kicks, she gets hers.”

  Wulff tries to move past him but Ishida stands firm. “Only Daryl….”

  “Oh, come on, Ishida! If I were Heathcliff Jackson I’d understand the caution. But I’m not. I’m Heath’s mechanic. Besides, Lyons and I made a side-bet over Copper’s adventure. I’m here to collect.”

  Ishida wavers. After a moment of silent deliberation, he removes his hand from Wulff’s chest.

  I shoot my friend a suspicious look. What does he mean side-bet? As I anxiously search his face for a clue, the dark clouds reach out and enfold the sun. People gasp as the day is suddenly cast in shadows. Glancing at the sky, I realize a major storm is going to hit the City.

  Aggravated by both the weather and Wulff’s claim, I finally step into the bar.

  It’s nearly empty save a waitress and a bartender. Lyons is sitting at the same booth, flanked by the same bodyguards.

  His last two Generals stare at me arrogantly, confident that I’ve come to admit defeat. Orion Dennis, her long blonde hair falling down her back in a loose braid, is sitting on the back of Lyons’ booth. The ex-Mole rests her hands on the hilts of her infamous blades. She is legendary with a knife. Slowly carving away at flesh, confident in her throwing accuracy, she makes it impossible to run. It’s either fight to the last or die with a knife in your back. Stephen Arik, adorned with his expensive jewelry, leans on a table to Lyons’ left. He rose from the pits and dust of V Sector. Like all Miners, he believes in the bone crunching power of knuckle-dusters. His weapon of choice, however, is encrusted with uncut diamonds; his fists both shatter and shred his opponents.

  Locket is nowhere to be seen; I made it here before him.

  Seeing Lyons in the nearly empty bar makes him appear vulnerable. He’s so small compared to everyone else. As I study his boyish features, I try to imagine him as a man with a closet full of wonders; someone with sadistic needs and a terrible appetite for pain. Locket told me that Lyons is about horror, but I can’t see it in his face. I understand that he’s maddeningly patient. I understand that he doesn’t make many mistakes and that he has a hard-on for power, but I can’t find his brutality. And it occurs to me that his ordinary mask is his greatest asset. Nobody sees him coming.

  When my host beckons me forward. I keep my distance. Ishida remains a few inches behind me, hands folded in front of him.

  “I was told you have some news for me,” Lyons says. “It’s a bit early, but I can assure you that you must honour your debt. It’s either the line or you die.”

  I bristle at his admission. It was never Madman’s intention to recruit me—Lyons wants me dead. Orion and Arik shift where they’re sitting. They’re aggressive stance sends a warning chill up my spine. Wulff tenses. Looking over my shoulder at Ishida, I study his soft hands. He could take me down in a heartbeat if Lyons gave him the nod.

  That’s when I hear metal sliding through leather.

  “Before you break out your knives, Orion,” I say, still looking at Ishida, “Madman should hear what I have to say.”

  “I’m not interested.” Lyons waves me off. “If you don’t have the line than we have no
thing to discuss. Your life is forfeit.”

  “Life is forfeit…?” Wulff echoes.

  “Armin Wulff,” Lyons identifies. “I assume you’ve come for Jules?”

  My companion shifts uncertainly. “That’s right.”

  “Someone go and get her,” the Criminal boss orders, a smug glint in his eyes.

  Orion stands and disappears into another room. When she returns, she’s half-dragging Jules. The dark-haired beauty is bound with rope and her mouth is taped shut. Looking first at Wulff and then at me, Jules cries out in pain when she’s thrown to the floor. Wulff immediately steps forward to help, but Orion puts a knife to Jules’ right eye, daring him to come closer. Growling under his breath, Wulff puts up his hands and steps back.

  Bewildered by this turn of events I lick my lips nervously. Where the fuck is Locket?

  “What’s going on?” I ask.

  “A little wager,” Lyons replies, smiling serenely. “If you found the line Jules goes free. If not, Wulff joins Madman. Then Jules…” He makes a cutting motion across his neck.

  “That wasn’t the deal,” Wulff protests.

  “She belongs to me,” Lyons says. “I can do with her as I please.”

  “Belongs?” I turn to Jules but she can’t look me in the eyes. Infuriated, I turn on Wulff. “When did this happen?”

  “The day you came back,” Wulff answers, face twisted with concern.

  “I called in my favour,” Lyons explains. “She was sent to bring you in and she came back empty-handed. I don’t tolerate failure.”

  Lyons gives me the time I need to process everything that’s happening. This is why Jules was desperate enough to come to those roads alone. When I jumped off the cliff, I ruined her chances of discharging her debt and, knowing that she was trapped, she went to Wulff for help. He never abandons a friend in need.

  So here we are.

  This is why I don’t like softies. They always pull others into their mess.

  A door in the back opens and Locket saunters in. Relieved that he’s finally arrived, I struggle not to show my happiness. Unconcerned with the tense scene, he nods to his boss. Lyons motions for him to take his place. The tall General stands behind Madman’s booth, hand resting innocently on the hilt of his knife.