I curse myself for being able to kill her.
“She went to Lyons with the proposal.” I don’t respond. No matter what Locket says I still a I’m a child-killer. “It was her idea. She bargained for complete access to the Madman lines, a false identity card, and a monthly allowance.”
“A new life,” I murmur. The information penetrates the dullness of my brain. “What was she still doing here?”
“It was her home,” Locket answers. “She didn’t know what to do with her new found wealth.”
“She suffered from a lack of imagination,” I diagnose woodenly. She was too young to understand the possibilities. “Locket, why are you working for Lyons?”
At first, he steels himself against my sorrow; the coldness returns to his gaze. But then, just as quickly, he softens. “He has something I need.”
I nod quietly at his vague explanation. There’s no need to delve. It’s enough to know that Locket is still an independent at heart. Slowly rising to my feet, I hold out his bloodstained knife.
“Keep it,” he says. “You took it off of me after you beat me to a bloody pulp—it’s a trophy. Ishida turned on Madman, I had to kill him, and you took me down from behind. I don’t know where you are, I don’t know if you’re going to go public.”
“You think Lyons is going to buy that?”
Locket shrugs. “It’s none of your business if he doesn’t.”
“So, we aren’t friends yet,” I realize, “even after all of this.”
“No,” he confirms. But his gentle gaze helps me understand that we aren’t enemies. “I can’t always make up reasons not to kill you. Stay out of my way. Don’t even entertain the thought of coming near. I’ll find you when your bandages need to be changed.”
Despite my disappointment, I agree. “Don’t forget.”
“I’ll take you back.”
He pulls a cloak over his head, hiding his face, and I follow him into the streets. I don’t give myself the luxury of looking back. What’s done is done and I can’t change it.
Locket leads me back to the building where he tied me to the chair. Striding towards what looks like a destroyed table, he pulls on one if its legs. Something pops then releases and a piece of the wall springs open.
My curiosity brings me back to life. Excited at the prospect of a hidden door, I resist the urge to clap my hands like a child.
Locket guides me through a maze of cramped, dirty passages. It doesn’t occur to me until a few minutes into the adventure that this musty path is somehow familiar. My mind is screaming at me to remember. All the clues are here but I can’t put them together.
“Don’t make any sudden movements,” Locket instructs.
Staring at what looks like a dead end, he searches for something on the wall. An ominous click sets my teeth on edge—traps are engaging. We’re in the foyer of someone’s hideout. A camera slides out of the wall, examines Locket’s face and returns to its small home. The traps neutralize and a hidden door to our left pops open.
“After you,” Locket says.
I have no more doubts about where I am. Rows upon rows of tables, piled high with the City’s technological trash, spread out for a quarter mile or so. Little robots of all shapes zip around the underground room, sorting through the crap with speedy efficiency. Before I can turn around and fix Locket with a quizzical look, I hear the hydraulics of Kentucky Jim’s metal legs clanking towards us. Confused, I look back at the hidden passage. I didn’t know that entrance existed.
“Considering you’ve come through the back door I already know this isn’t a social call,” Kentucky says.
“Ran into a little trouble with Madman,” Locket answers. He pulls the door closed behind him. “Where are the others?”
“Went out looking for this one.” He sneers as he jabs a finger at me. “They’re afraid.”
Kentucky and Locket continue talking as though they’ve known each other for years. Sweet Sky! I always knew the old man had an errand boy, I just never guessed it was Locket.
Kentucky shoots me a disapproving look. “I knew you were trouble from the moment you crawled in through the rat hole. I should have sealed it shut the day we met.”
“You really think that would have kept me out?” I gratefully fall in to our old pattern. “It only would have made getting into your place more of a challenge.”
“The great living Legend speaks!” Despite the deep frown on his face I see a twinkle of humour shining in Kentucky’s eyes. He notes the blood on my hands and cringes. “You know where the shower is.”
“Yeah, I know where it is.”
I turn around to thank Locket but he has already slipped out. My heart sinks with disappointment. It would have been nice to say good-bye. But I’m a hardened Criminal, his disappearance shouldn’t bother me so much.
Besides, I should know better than to fall for someone like him.
35
The shower washes the blood away but not the grief. I don’t want to think about it, but I can still feel the knife slicing through Sonora’s throat; I can still see the life draining from her eyes. Disturbed by the dark intensity of the memory, I try to banish the images with scalding water.
Stop thinking. Let it be. For now, just let it be.
But my mind refuses to cooperate. Every time I push one memory away another one takes its place. Frustrated, I turn off the water and step out of the shower. The large, fluffy towel envelops me completely as I sit on the floor.
Stop it, stop it, stop it.
Voices are creeping back into my head. Whispering at first, they intrude on my sanity.
Are you coming back…? A woman asks. Can you come back…? I don’t know how much longer I can last in here.
You’re a coward, another woman screams.
Wretched with guilt I answer her. “I already know that.”
I saw you in the courtyard. I saw how you quaked and sobbed. A man taunts. You’re nothing, like everyone in here. You don’t exist. Nothing exists if it’s outside of this place.
“Jealous!”
Yet another man asks for my help. Give my sister a message. Tell her I need her to find my children.
“Why the fuck should I?”
My anguish drives a hole through my heart. I can’t help them. The Prisoners are begging but I’m powerless. I bury my head in the towel and put my hands over my ears. The voices become louder and more demanding. Rocking back and forth I plead with them to leave me alone. I can’t do anything!
A sharp knock at the door brings me back to reality.
“There are other things you can do around here,” Kentucky shouts. “You’re not my guest.”
Pulling myself together, I try to clear my thoughts. I’m standing but I don’t remember getting to my feet. Confused, I stare at my finger on the fogged mirror—I’ve used a code to write something in the steam.
SAVE US.
Shocked I put my back against the solid wall. I don’t know what it means, but I have my suspicions. There’s only one reply I can make. “Fuck you.”
It took Jack’s crew a month to organize a plan to get me out. Imagine the time it would take for a full-scale siege. Even knowing a way in, I can’t start plucking them out one by one. The prisoners are dreaming. But, in that place, there’s nothing else for them to do.
Frantically pulling on my clothes I retreat from the bathroom. Eventually, the steam will fade, taking their message with it.
36
Draw a new line.
A new line. It isn’t that simple: every time I find a new one I discover that I’m capable of crossing it. I can’t see the purpose of pretending that I won’t do whatever it takes to survive. That includes putting Sonora down. I know, without question, that I would do it again. I also know, the second time round, killing an orphan will be much easier. Oddly enough, this realization doesn’t disturb me. It gives me a new found sense of peace.
I’m finally coming to terms with myself.
“You need to earn
your keep,” Kentucky says, interrupting my thoughts. He points towards a mop and bucket. “While you’re here, you work.”
“Why don’t you have a machine for that?”
“Machine…? Ha!” He laughs heartily. “Don’t clean yourself into a corner. Get on your hands and knees if you have to.”
“How long have you known Locket?” I ask, knowing he won’t answer. “How long has he been your errand boy?”
“Errand boy… Never did like how that sounds. Sweet mother of Christ, he doesn’t run any damn errands.”
“Sweet mother of who…?”
“Get to work. I’ve known him longer than I’ve known you. That’s all you’re getting.”
“Known him longer than you’ve known me.” Crossing my arms over my chest I fix his retreating form with an evil stare. “That’s absolutely no help.”
“Get to work!”
I don’t grab the mop and bucket. Kentucky’s metallic body disappears around a pile of junk and I head for his kitchen. The floors can wait: I need caffeine. Filling a mug with hot coffee I sit down at the scarred, wobbling kitchen table. Everything in this place needs a fresh coat of paint. I’m sure that will be my next job if I ever get around to following Kentucky’s commands.
As I wait for the hot drink to cool I reach for the sugar. The old tin box sits just out of reach on the other end of the table. I could shift to grab it, but I remember my first and only conversation with Sonora. She thought I’d used a magic trick to move the box; Wulff claimed I was telekinetic; in the Prison, I told my chains to open and they did.
Tense with curiosity, I examine my scarred hand. There’s no harm in trying.
Staring at the sugar tin I place my hand, palm facing the old box, on the table. All it takes is a moment of concentration—the box slides quickly across the scarred wood. Bewildered, I catch it and study its dented surface. There’s no explaining it away this time, I am able to move objects with my mind. The discovery sends a chill down my spine. There are too many questions surrounding my newfound power. Only one thing is for certain, no one else can do what I just did. That gives me an edge.
“That’s a new one,” someone comments from behind me.
My stomach jumps into my throat. Dropping the tin, I whirl around to find Jack standing a few inches away from me. Relieved, I put a hand on my chest and will my heart to slow down. Every time with him! One of these days he’s going to sneak up on me and I really will have a heart attack.
“Jack! you have to find a new hobby.”
Eyes gleaming with impish fun, Jack studies me with calm curiosity; my telekinesis interests him. But we both know he isn’t going to ask. He’ll wait for me to come to him. That’s always been his style.
“It occurs to me that I should have asked you this sooner,” he finally says. “Are you still with us?”
“Still… with you? I don’t understand the question.”
“A part of the crew,” he qualifies. “I assumed you were, that was my fault. Leaving us like that, when it was safer to stay put, making us worry, making us think the worst… that was the action of a loner. You don’t trust us.”
“No,” I disagree, pleading with him to understand. “I don’t trust myself. I almost killed the crew when you were gone. I was going to. It’s a miracle I didn’t. Knowing that, we’d have to keep me dosed when you aren’t around. I couldn’t exchange one jail for another.”
His thoughtful silence draws me into a fit of self-loathing. Standing there, waiting for his response, I think about the crew. They broke into the Prison to save me and I repaid them with nothing but fear. Something sick and miserable opens inside of me. I’m more of a coward than I want to admit.
“You don’t have any faith in us,” Jack finally states.
“There’s that word again,” I return, biting back bitter tears. Too ashamed to meet Jack’s steadfast gaze I stare at his chest. “Faith… I don’t even know what it means. Does it mean dragging your friends into a deep, dark hole with you? Forcing them to cope with what they can’t understand? Turning them into jailers? Making them hate what they used to love?”
“Not at all,” Jack replies. “It just means trusting them to do what they can. Everything else you leave to Luck.”
“Those questions were rhetorical.” Wiping at my eyes, I finally meet his searching gaze. “I don’t know what to do, Jack.”
“I’d start small,” he advises. “We’re going to finalize the plans for the new hideout when everyone gets back. If you’re not here, we won’t make a space for you.”
“Lyons will tear the City apart looking for me.”
“I know,” he replies, unmoved. “I saw what you did to Orion, Arik and Ishida. He probably already has three more lined up. The Madman choosing the Generals… it’s never been done before.”
“We need to take him out! He’ll rip through you to get to me.”
“You already know that’s not an option,” Jack asserts. “Lyons is still too powerful and too cautious. Thanks to you, there are still places in the City he can’t reach. If you stay, we lay low.”
“What about my episodes?”
“If you give us the chance we’ll take care of you,” Jack says. Putting a friendly hand on my shoulder, he gives it a warm squeeze. “We’ll find a way to keep everyone safe. But you’re either all the way in or all the way out. There’s no in between here.”
That is his final decision. Staying means I must respect it. Even the independents have a power system, unless you’re a loner. I could make a life for myself without the crew. The line to A is enough to keep me in jobs and credits for the rest of my life. But, even knowing the crew was here I let Locket bring me back. That wasn’t the action of a loner.
Sensing that I’m making a decision, Jack disappears behind a pile of junk and I’m left to my tumultuous thoughts. Before long, however, I hear footsteps and voices. The rest of the crew has returned.
“Heath,” Wulff calls, “other than that pile of corpses there’s no sign of her. The City is flooded with water and supposed Daryl sightings. There aren’t any good leads. At least the sky is clearing. We’ll go back out in a few hours.”
“That’s fine,” Jack returns. “Leave it up to her.”
“But what if she’s hurt?” Frenzy protests. “She might be unconscious and slowly bleeding to death in a back alley. No way she killed three Generals and came out without a scratch.”
“It was her choice to leave in the first place,” Jack gently reminds him. “There was never any guarantee that she was going to come back. You know it, I know it.”
“But…we can’t just leave her,” Frenzy pleads. “Not with Madman’s goons out for blood. Give us another couple of days. I need this, Jackson.”
“We all need it,” Wulff corrects.
Stretching my psychic talent I see Jack leaning against an old, steel table as he considers their request. He knows I’m listening to every word.
“I won’t stop you,” he finally says. “But, for now, we need to get to work. Kentucky can’t let us stay here forever.”
Torn, I listen to their excited voices. The flooded streets, the new hideout, the chance to find me… they all love a good challenge. Frenzy pulls out Marietta’s rectangle. As he studies the strange markings he hums one of my favourite tunes and I tap my foot to the familiar beat. Wulff and Jules break off to one side of the piles of junk. Jules hasn’t said anything for finding me but she hasn’t said anything against finding me either. If I stay, we’ll have a few things to sort out. Maybe I can toughen her up.
Kentucky gave the crew full access to everything he isn’t already using. Sorting through a few piles, Wulff shouts excitedly when he finds something. Jules holds the rusted metal in her hands and shrugs.
“I’m guessing it’s something useful?”
Wulff laughs at Jules’ confused expression. Frenzy continues to hum and Jack places his equipment on the steel table. He’s going to clean it while he waits for my decision. He may have g
iven the crew a few days but he knows it doesn’t matter. If I choose to leave they won’t find me. The only way they see me again is if I stay.
I pull out Jace Locket’s knife. Ignoring the wicked blade, I study the beautifully carved hilt and remember what I used to assume about him. He was cold and violent, with no merit or depth. People can surprise you if you let them.
I suddenly realize that the crew is my family, my oasis in this fucked up life. It’s time to start believing in them.
My decision brings a surge of strength with it. Walking into the open, I take a seat across from Jack. He gently dusts off his equipment and shoots me a proud smile. Neither of us alerts the others, they’ll see me soon enough. The earthy smell of Jack’s leather softener wafts through the air, reminding me of happy years spent in a cramped hideout.
This is a leap of faith that I do not want to regret.
The Line Page 25
