Karma City

by Gardener Browning

  The group sat in silence, each thrilled at the idea.

  “There’s just one problem,” said Jack. “I don’t remember how to fly.”

  As the sun fell over the western Void Lands, the tracks curved into a mountain pass. Steady columns of steam and smoke rising from towering incinerator stacks clouded the sky over the city of Rime. From his window, Jameson beheld the fortified industrial compound. The steel and stone walls cast bright white spotlights at the approaching train.

  Jack and Albert had fallen asleep and Luna sat across the car cleaning a new rifle.

  Brighton’s voice sounded in Jameson’s mind. “I heard your plan.”

  “I know you did,” whispered Jameson.

  “I have a problem with it.”

  “No shit. Figured you would.”

  “Tell me,” urged Brighton, “who is Marcus Graves? When you and I first met, you said I looked like him.”

  “He’s the geneticist who created you.”

  “You mean he created Malad-X.”

  “That’s technically what you are.”

  “Yes, but I’m more than that now. I think I proved it by saving your life.”

  “About that…I appreciate the help back there. Not only did you save my ass, but you saved my friends. Thank you.”

  “I told you that I plan on keeping you alive. I meant it. Now, tell me more about Graves.”

  “According to Albert, Graves made Malad-X by genetically altering the offspring of his own Malady. This offspring, since it developed within Graves, shares his genetic signature.”

  “That explains why you say I look like him.”

  “Right. And you’ve got his intelligence.”

  “I’ve also acquired your human nature in the process of our neural bonding.”

  “And it’s the human side of things that makes you superior. Gemni, as Malady, was unable to achieve the level of evolution you have.” Jameson chuckled to himself. “I’m starting to sound like the doc.”

  “Jameson,” Brighton’s tone became troubled. “Why do you want to destroy Graves’ last brood of Malad-X?”

  “Graves is an infected psychopath who kidnapped my father when I was a kid and used him as a lab rat. What’s worse, the asshole just killed a bunch of civilians and plans on killing countless more by unleashing his monster parasite!”

  “And killing our family is the answer?”

  “Our family?”

  “We’re together in this, Jameson. That makes us family.”

  “Let me make this clear, I have no family. Don’t want one. Don’t need one.”

  “But you need her…” Brighton forced Jameson’s eyes to settle on Luna. “She’s important to you. You told her about me. You tell her everything. But for some reason, you have yet to confess your feelings to her.”

  Luna’s hair fell below her shoulders in reddish-brown waves as she cleaned her firearm. Though half her face wore branding scars, she kept a firm and natural beauty that he could not ignore. Was it the soft edges of her face or her liquid-green eyes? Was it the way her smile always seemed to be just for him? Yes. She’s a warrior, a strong woman with more sense and self-control than me. But she’s a woman and I’ve never been closer to any other. He watched her clean the rifle barrel. Such focus, such care in everything she did. Her hands moved confidently over the weapon and, briefly, he wondered what those hands would feel like. “Leave her out of this, Brighton.”

  “Would you let her die?”

  “No!”

  “You’ve killed for her, but would you die for her? Because I’d die for my Malad-X family. Remember that.”

  The locomotive slowed to a smooth stop at the Rime receiving station. The Iron Tribe moved through the cars commanding an orderly departure from the train. Jameson gathered his gear and followed the others out and onto the station platform. The cold air bit his nose and stung his eyes. He listened to Luna address the group.

  “Listen up. It’s easy to get in trouble in Rime. Many places are restricted to visitors who aren’t Iron Tribe, so I think it’s best to give you all an overview of the facility’s layout. This is a massive factory complex comprised of a seven ‘halls.’ Think of the halls as departments, each one responsible for its own task. Just ahead is the Reception Hall, serving visitors with hostels and markets all close to the train station. The other halls are Munitions, where weapons are made; Mining and Refinery, where scrap and ore are processed; Manufacturing Works, where machines are repaired and goods are produced; Shipping and Receiving, self-explanatory; Residency, where citizens live; and lastly, Administration, where all operations are coordinated. Questions?”

  No one spoke up.

  “Good. Now let’s head into Reception and secure dorms for the night. We’ll regroup tomorrow and begin our mission to recover Jack’s airplane.” Luna turned to Jameson. “After Reception, I need you to hit the shops and get us whatever gear we may need for our hike up the mountain. Are you feeling up to that?”

  “No problem, boss.”

  The group walked toward the Reception Hall. Jameson followed but Luna tugged his arm, pulling him away from the others. “We need to talk,” she said.

  “Luna, I’m fine.”

  “No, you’re not. Brighton had you, Jameson. He had full control.”

  “We survived because of it.”

  “Yes, but how much control do you really have?”

  “Look, I’m not happy with my condition. Need I remind you of how much I hate Malady? That includes Malad-X. You should have put a bullet in my brain when my father stuck me with that needle.”

  “Jameson, please. I’m just concerned that whatever is in your head may have intentions of its own…like Gemni.”

  Jameson caressed the side of her face, brushing a wisp of hair aside. He could see the compassion and worry raging in her gaze. He looked at her thoughtfully, noting the way she wrung her rifle strap to steady her nerves. She tightened her lips in concern and pushed her shoulders back to project her confidence rather than her fear. He hated that he made her feel this way. “I’m fine, Luna. I can handle this. I don’t know what more to say.”

  Luna’s eyes narrowed. “Then I guess it’s not you I need to talk to.”

  She shoved past him to join the others.

  After renting a room, Jameson wandered the markets surrounding the station area. Anticipating a hike of unknown duration through a deeply forested mountain trail, he looked for camping equipment, weapons, ammunition, tools and rugged outerwear. He asked around and was directed to a busy odds-and-ends shop. Inside, the clerk showed him a rack of insulated mechanic coveralls, leather gloves, work boots and an assortment of tools and gear. Jameson inspected the items.

  “Is there anything specific you need, sir?”

  “Information would be helpful. Tell me what the conditions are like on the mountain.”

  “Snow. Ice. Fallen pines, overgrown brush and shit for trails. The usual. Heading up to the summit?”

  “No. To the airfield.”

  The man paused and cracked an odd smile. “You’re joking, right?”

  “Why?”

  “Nobody’s been up there in decades. It’s haunted, I tell you; riddled with demons and ghouls!”

  Jameson snickered. “I’ll take everything you’ve got. I need it packed up and sent to my room at the Reception Hall, dorm eighty-two.”

  “If I may caution you again, sir, stay clear of the old airfield.”

  Jameson pulled his wallet and counted out a stack of bills. “What’s the fastest route up there?”

  The clerk took the money. “With all due respect, sir, I don’t want to discuss the place. It’s cursed and I’ve warned you.”

  Jameson snatched him by the shirt and jerked him over the counter. “Answer my question!” Then, he smelled the stench of Malady, but not from the clerk. The Malad-X rage ignited in his core.

  “Let him go, Jameson.”

  Jameson released the clerk and turned to see Jack Halligan standing behin
d him, arms folded over his chest.

  “Tell me,” said Jack, “do you always bully shopkeepers?”

  The scent of Jack’s Malady pulled at Jameson. He struggled to control the anger rising inside through deliberate rationalization. This isn’t how you really feel. It’s the Malad-X. Fight it! Push it back!

  “In my neighborhood,” said Jack, “many of us are sick but we try to keep it together because we care about one another; we care about who we are. Do you understand?”

  Jameson did not answer. He forced his hands into his pockets to keep from attacking Jack. He looked down and noticed that his right hand resisted. He could not control it. It tightened to a fist and remained at his side.

  “Arrogant fool!” Brighton echoed within.

  Jack put his hand on Jameson’s shoulder. “Look, I’ve had Malady for a while and I’ve learned that before you can care about others, you have to care about yourself and what you may become. My point is, don’t become your sickness.”

  Brighton knocked Jack’s hand away with tremendous force. Jack staggered back and glared at Jameson, noticeably confused. Brighton spoke then, dropping Jameson’s voice to a low whisper. “You don’t become the sickness. It becomes you.”

  Jameson regained control and hurried past Jack, rushing for the door.

  Chapter 15

  A cold and deep black night settled over Rime. The network of corridors in the factory complex fell dark and silent. Only the cold mountain air howled through the city’s passages.

  At the cusp of morning, Luna stood in the shadows of the hallway and waited, keeping her eyes on the door of dorm eighty-two. She heard footsteps approaching and snapped a magazine into her rifle. Jameson came into view, searching his pockets for his room key. Luna listened to him mumbling.

  “You’re screwing with my life.” Jameson worked the key into the door and turned the handle. “What do I want? I want you out of my head!” He entered the dorm and let the door swing closed behind him.

  Luna hurried and slipped her knife into the latch, stopping the door handle from locking. She waited and listened to Jameson.

  “Don’t use me anymore,” he demanded. “Got it?”

  She heard the click of his shotgun engaging.

  “I swear, Brighton,” he said, “I’ll do away with both of us.”

  Her heart sank.

  She knew what she had to do. It was the only way.

  She heard him plop down on the bed. “I’m done discussing it,” he said. “Don’t fuck with me, worm.”

  She waited outside for close to an hour, giving Jameson plenty of time to fall into a deep sleep. Once she heard his long, slow breaths, she carefully parted the door and entered the dorm. With soundless steps, she moved to his bedside and pressed her rifle barrel under his chin. “Wake up.”

  His eyes opened, alarmed. “Luna? What are you doing?”

  She jammed the muzzle into his collar. “Stay down, Jameson. Don’t move.”

  “What’s the problem?”

  “That’s what I’m here to find out. Now shut up. I don’t want to talk to you. I want to talk to the worm.”

  “Luna, please.”

  “Jameson, shut up!” Her finger hovered over her trigger. She spoke sternly, “Brighton. I’ve come for you. Answer me.”

  Jameson stared at her in silence.

  Luna’s heart pounded. “Answer me, Brighton, or I’ll kill you both.”

  Jameson’s body fell limp. His eyes looked empty, almost dead.

  “Last chance,” she warned. “Talk to me!”

  She touched the trigger, and in that instant, green light from in Jameson’s pupils illuminated his face. Awareness returned, fierce and unfamiliar.

  “Greetings, Luna Briggs,” said Brighton.

  Luna gasped at the hollow voice coming from her friend. Brighton took advantage of her apprehension and snatched the rifle barrel. With Malad-X strength, he tugged the weapon down, pulling Luna on top of him then rolled her over. He pressed the gun to her chest, pinning her to the bed and leaned closer. His nose nearly touched hers. She struggled under his weight but could not get the leverage to break free.

  Brighton took hold of her throat in one hand and cast aside the weapon with the other. He squeezed, choking her to submission. “Was there something you wanted to say to me?”

  Luna gagged, clawing at the hand on her throat.

  “I’m listening, woman,” Brighton taunted. “Go ahead and speak?”

  “I’ll kill you!” she wheezed.

  “You have so much to learn. As do I.” He leaned in and sniffed her hair. “You smell nice. Not like Malady at all.” He touched his cheek to hers. “You’re warm and soft. Tell me, woman, do you like this body?”

  Luna thought of digging her fingers into his eyes but didn’t want to injure Jameson. Her lungs burned for air and her head throbbed. She felt her strength fading away and her vision blurred. It wouldn’t be long before he choked her out and she feared what he might do to her then.

  Brighton caressed the scars on her face and thumbed her trembling lips. “My instinct urges me to kill you because your existence threatens mine. Jameson is a strong man. The only thing that makes him vulnerable is you. His feelings for you make him weak.”

  She stole a breath. “You’re wrong.” She knotted her hands in his hair and pulled his mouth down on hers. With a final burst of strength, she forced a deep kiss, confident it would bring back Jameson. As her vision faded under Brighton’s grip, she saw the light fade from Jameson’s eyes. His hand pulled away from her throat and their lips parted. She heard Jameson’s voice calling to her as she fluttered in and out of consciousness.

  “Luna? No! Come back to me!”

  She drew in a deep breath and coughed. He sat her up in the bed. “Did I hurt you?”

  She rubbed her neck and nodded. “Yeah, a little.”

  He wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly. “I’m so very sorry.”

  Luna buried her face in his chest and closed her eyes.

  “Luna,” he started after a few long minutes. “It’s important that you know how I feel about you…”

  She hushed him and wiped away his tears. “We make each other strong. Don’t say anything else.”

  Just after noon, Jack tried to ease his nerves atop his dorm room balcony. The train yard glinted with silver frost two levels below. Working with a square piece of paper, he slid his hand along the last fold, careful not to cause unwanted creases. He parted the small flaps to open the wings and inspected the pointy nose. Words came bubbling up from the depths of his memory, terms he hadn’t thought of since his youth. Trim, attitude, rudder, aileron. What do they mean? Frustration swelled in his chest. He stopped his folding and looked down from the balcony; Luna, Jameson and Albert had entered the train yard and gathered at the platform. Jack watched as Jameson dropped a large duffle bag to the ground and unpacked it. He handed out dark gray coveralls to the others.

  Jack took a calming breath and flicked the paper plane into the air. Swooping, whirling, gliding. He smiled but only for a moment. The wind blew up, catching the plane. It flipped over in flight, and then plummeted to the tracks. He winced as it crumpled to an unrecognizable heap between the rails. I can’t fly.

  Luna called up to Jack. “Hey, we’re heading up the mountain in a few minutes. Our mission is pointless without you.”

  “I’ll be right down.”

  Jack met the group and received his coveralls. He stepped into them and zipped up the front. The thick lining warmed him immediately. He spun his arms around. “These aren’t bad, Jameson. Reminds me of the flight suit I had as a…boy.” He smiled, happy that the memory returned so effortlessly.

  Jameson knelt back down to inventory items in the bag. “I got extra clothing and camping gear, too. Let’s get going.”

  Luna motioned for the group to follow. “The trail head opens at the north edge of town. This way. It should only take us a few hours to ascend the mountain to the abandoned airfiel
d. Jack, if we find your airplane up there, how long will it take to get it in the air?”

  Jack couldn’t recall anything about starting an aircraft. “Uh…it’s tough to say.”

  Snow fell in downy flakes. Albert walked with Jack along the rugged trail. “I must admit,” said the doctor, “the thought of flying has provided me a truly wonderful distraction from the hardships we face.”

  “The only thing I’m flying now is paper airplanes.”

  Albert chuckled. “I don’t think I’ve ever flown a paper airplane.”

  “There’s a lot to it.”

  “Oh?”

  “You’ve got to have sturdy, wide wings. And the take-off is all in the elbow, not the wrist. Most importantly, you’ve got to understand that your paper plane is actually a glider. It’s not going to fly; it’s going to fall.”

  “Maybe the wind will carry it away, like a kite cut loose.””

  “Wind provides ‘lift,’ which is the force component perpendicular of the oncoming air against the wings. But as soon as the air current diminishes, lift is compromised and the weight of your craft, with the force of drag, will take over. Without an alternate source of force or thrust to keep lift, like a propeller or engine, your plane is going to glide down, down and down until it hits the ground.”

  Albert stopped his trek. “You sound like a pilot to me, Jack.”

  “I…uh…guess I do.” Why is it coming back in pieces? I can’t have pieces of knowledge in the cockpit!

  Albert smiled. “When all of this is over and people are safe, you should come to the Oasis Hospital and teach the children how to make paper airplanes. They’d love it!”

  “Sounds like a good time to me.” Jack noticed the sadness hiding behind Albert’s glasses. “What’s on your mind?”

  “I’m getting tired, Jack. I’ve seen so much suffering. My hope is with Carmen Victoria. She had said that, through my work, she’d found the basis for an anti-parasitic immunization. We’ve just got to save her.”

  “A cure for Malady?”