Wakers

by Ron Collins

  A third wall went up, rounded this time, connecting the other two.

  “It’s not going to be very big, but it’ll be yours. Do you understand? I’m storing your mind somewhere you can’t be cracked.”

  CHAPTER 27

  Maine knew that guys who talk up the game generally don’t know squat — but if you listen to them a while you’ll find someone who does. Given that he was going to retrieve Beatrice or die trying, he knew he needed to find someone who knew what the hell they were doing.

  Since a lot of his friends talked like that, it only took a day to find someone who spoke about the Central Inspector’s Office with the proper braggard’s tone that Maine understood so well.

  “I know this girl,” Bryan Madrigan said. “She’s just way off the chart.”

  “Off the chart?” Maine said.

  “Yeah. Total rebel. Knows everything.”

  “Seriously cool,” Maine replied. “I can run, but I can’t rip code with the CIO. Wish I knew more people like you.”

  A minute later, Madrigan was puking up names and offering introductions.

  That night was dark and muggy as Maine shuffled his bag from one shoulder to the next. Shadows filled the streets and the breeze carried leaves and litter across intersections that road scrubbers hadn’t touched for months.

  Spring Trail was a small street with a gravel median that was clean, weedless, and planted with rugged palm trees. The streetlights worked here, but there were only about half as many as they needed. Their hooded bowls faced directly down to focus pools of lime green directly on the surface of the road. The houses were small and tightly packed, set back from small front lawns that grew clumps of dark grasses.

  Despite the hour, two kids on bicycles rode past him, their wheels squeaking like the hinges of swinging doors. He glanced over his shoulder as he heard them and, imagining the worst, moved further to the edge of the road as they approached.

  They passed without speaking.

  Maine let a breath out and continued down the road.

  The Wilson Station tram let him off five blocks back.

  He had an address and a holo he had pulled from the map. Now that he was here, it wasn’t hard to find.

  The house was strange — broken-down with cracks in a thousand places along the foundation and shingles that needed repair. Two windows were covered in particle board and cloaked in shadow from streetlights.

  He went to a door that had probably needed a fresh coat of paint for at least two years.

  We could have this fixed, that neglect said, but we don’t do that here.

  He took a deep breath. No turning back. If he was going to save Beatrice, this was the only way.

  Maine curled his hands into a ball, but before he could knock, a female voice rode in on his wire.

  “Come around the back,” she said.

  “All right,” he replied.

  He hadn’t let her into his Think Space, but he wasn’t really surprised that someone slid though his standard screen.

  Everyone knew they were all vulnerable.

  That she made it in so effortlessly boded well — at least, that’s what he told himself.

  The metal gate screeched as he opened it.

  The backyard was smaller even than the front. A set of bare concrete steps led up to a door. He stepped past a well-kept scooter linked up to a power cord, then climbed the stairs.

  “Go on,” the voice said.

  The door clicked to unlock, then locked again behind him.

  A kitchen space spread out before him, leading to a living room lit by only soft bulbs from a room down a short hallway. The place smelled of incense and a freshener that sat on the edge of the sink.

  Maine stepped toward the living room and glanced down the hallway to see another room at its end.

  A girl was sitting on the bed, her boyfriend or girlfriend or whoever still curled up and sleeping. The light on her nightstand was set to low power, but Maine’s eyes were already adjusted to the darkness and the light was enough to see she seemed fragile in a way that surprised him. Delicate features on a bony body grated against his image of a hacker.

  She wore a white oversized T-shirt and had just lit a real cigarette. The smoke rose from its tip in a rope that hung in the air like a charmer’s snake.

  “DeJenna?” he said softly, not wanting to wake her partner.

  “Yeah,” she said, standing up and running a hand through her hair.

  She walked past him and into the small living room.

  Her pajama bottoms had been cut off at the knees.

  “Come on,” she said, flicking on a light that made Maine blink against the startling glare.

  The room was crammed with wall-to-wall equipment, some of which he was pretty sure was technically illegal.

  “Nice,” he said.

  She sat on a chair and motioned him to an aged couch across the way. She drew on the cigarette — which he saw now was a designer spike that burned with a weed that gave the smoke blue tones.

  “So, you wanna break out?”

  “Break out?”

  “You know. Cut the ties, slice the gonzo wire, be a free man.”

  “Is that what Bryan told you?”

  She did everything but roll her eyes at him. “Let’s not waste our fucking time. I know who you are, Maine Parker. Big runner-dude. You think you got something special and you don’t want to be less than that. So, you come to get yourself cut free.”

  “Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do.”

  She eyed him. “Oh, I know you.”

  “Then you’ll know I’m not here for myself. I want to save someone else.”

  “Boyfriend or girlfriend?”

  “Girlfriend,” he admitted. “Maybe.”

  “Ah,” DeJenna said. “I see.” They sat in silence for a moment while DeJenna smoked. “Beatrice,” she continued in a distracted tone. “I can see why you would want to save her. She’s quite beautiful.”

  An ugliness came to the pit of his stomach.

  “You were in my head?”

  “I can sit in any space I want.”

  “Amazing,” he replied, growing more uneasy at the sense of being so exposed.

  He knew now why Bryan said she could help him. The effortless way she had about herself when it came to link-hopping, combined with her petite presence, would obviously make her attractive to Madrigan. Yes, DeJenna could almost certainly help him, but now he realized Mads had probably referred her because he wanted to get into her skirts.

  “What did you see?” he said.

  “That you’re probably right about Bryan.”

  He blushed.

  “You’re good.”

  She pulled on her cigarette again, then dropped it into an ashtray.

  “No, Maine,” she said, “I’m fucking good.”

  She leaned forward to focus attention back to him.

  He nodded. A moment ago everything had seemed so hypothetical, but now he felt things falling into place. DeJenna could help him. This was real. He was going to make this happen.

  “Why don’t you tell me what you want,” she said.

  “The things I like the most about Beatrice are being stripped. I want to stop it.”

  “You want her back like she was.”

  “Can you do that?”

  “I can.” Her smile quirked up. “But I won’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t make it a habit to get all up in CIO business just to keep them from playing their reindeer games with some random kid.”

  “Beatrice isn’t random.”

  “Yes, I know. She’s special.”

  “She is.”

  DeJenna gave a silent chuckle.

  “I’m serious. She’s not like anyone else.”

  Maine balled his fists. He was losing. He looked at DeJenna and watched the set of her face as he clutched at straws.

  “If you knew her, you would see.” Maine bit his lip. “Here,” he
said, pulling his memory of Beatrice at Stone Canyon, playing it for her, letting her see the determination on Beatrice’s face, the way she held her body, the way her grin went from sardonic to sarcastic in a matter of moments. He watched her climb the rock, and for what might have been the thousandth time he stopped it with her in midair, arms extended, belly flat, flying out over the blue water in a freeze-framed image of kick-ass joy and unapproachable vitality.

  When he was done, he opened his eyes to find DeJenna sitting in her chair, staring at him with inquisitive eyes.

  “Hmm,” she said. “Madsy said you would be interesting.”

  Then she reached for another cigarette.

  “You really love her,” she said.

  He nodded, feeling selfish for how good it felt to admit it to someone else. He pushed his lips together, forcing his face into a frown.

  “You’d do anything to get her back?”

  “Yes,” he said. “Anything.”

  She exhaled smoke. “All right. We can do this, but it’s going to be bigger than you think.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ll send you instructions in the morning.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  “We’re going to release the inmates,” she said, giving a smile that made the whites of her teeth bright. “And when we do, you better be ready to run.”

  DeJenna returned to bed after Maine left.

  She wouldn’t get any sleep, but she liked the feeling of warmth that Pauli gave off. She felt better being in bed next to him, and she needed that aura of security as she thought through this. She would talk to him in the morning. They had been looking for this opportunity for a long, long time.

  She lay in the darkness and listened to him breathe.

  Was Maine Parker the one they had been waiting for?

  CHAPTER 28

  Kinji wrapped her fingers around Tania’s as the flier lifted off.

  Kinji found it ironic that such a free spirit struggled with flying, but then Tania wasn’t really into experience so much as she was into pleasure.

  The hop to San Francisco would be short.

  “Are you all right?” she whispered to Tania.

  Tania gave a wrinkled grin.

  “Enough Dopa-gen and I can handle being dropped from a ten-story building.”

  “Let’s not go too far.”

  “I thought that was the idea?”

  “You’re supposed to be looking to get clean, Tania, not need full body reconstruction.”

  “Ah,” she said. “I keep forgetting that.”

  She lolled her head back as the ground fell away below.

  The Dopa-gen would get Tania through the flight and last maybe through dinnertime — just about perfect, really.

  Kinji sat back and traced a figure-eight pattern on the back of Tania’s hand. In a sane world Kinji could fall in love with her, and Tania could do the same, but neither Tania nor Kinji were of the mind to stay in one place. They were, instead, like a pair of comets, both circling the sun in their own wide paths, meeting in the best parts of their orbits to share their moment, then passing along.

  As Tania zoned, Kinji considered their plan.

  They’d backed up Bexie Montgomery’s mind, but now they had to spring his body from the medical center.

  She’d been there, of course — which would give her cover for returning even if they still questioned her involvement in Bexie’s first escape.

  The challenge would be using Tania to get her into the door far enough.

  Clouds twined themselves together outside the window. She liked that. Liked seeing patterns in nature. Current streams. Maybe she would use them as the basis for a set of scarves.

  The flier landed before she even realized they were getting close.

  Kinji touched Tania on the shoulder. “Come on, love,” she said. “Time to go.”

  “Woo-hoo.”

  Tania was not quite awake but managed the walk on her own even while carrying her small bag. This being Kinji’s second trip in the past couple days, she would have known the way without even linking into TS records, but she did so to help Tania.

  “May we help you?” the receptionist said. It was a male form, light skinned, brown hair, nearly two meters tall, and dressed sharply in blue pants and a Geo-Span gray shirt with blue piping. Perfect for making a familiar and warm greeting, then fading into the background.

  Kinji opened her mouth to speak, but Tania blurted out instead, “I need to get all scrubbed out.”

  If Kinji hadn’t been under so much stress, perhaps she would have laughed. But instead, she merely put Tania’s elbow in a death grip.

  The receptionist hesitated, its brow drawing down.

  “This is Tania Brae,” Kinji said. “I called earlier. We would like to get her into a narcotic therapy program.”

  “Ah. That will be on the third level, green deck.”

  “Thanks, sailor,” Tania said as Kinji pulled her along into a lift tube.

  “You’re going to be the death of me,” Kinji said.

  “Oh, loosen up, Lucy-goosey.”

  Kinji frowned.

  “Seriously, Tania. Let me do the talking.”

  Tania pursed her lips and frowned. “Party pooper.”

  “I mean it.”

  “All right.”

  The tube opened and they stepped into a small, wraparound lobby with a smooth chest-high counter that blocked patients from the back area.

  Kinji scanned the area. Four security agents — likely bio-ints — and several nurses, one — a male — sitting primly behind the counter. Nondescript build, wearing a set of clean scrubs.

  “You’re the patient?” he asked, looking at Tania.

  “You got that in one,” she replied.

  “I’m sorry,” Kinji added. “She’s a little strung out.”

  “No, baby doll, I’z a lot strung out.”

  “What is the patient on?”

  “Dopa-gen mostly,” Kinji said. “Right now, anyway. But I suspect you’ll find a few more things in there when you do some digging.”

  “No digging.” Tania gave a big smile.

  “We’re pretty much straight off the plane,” Kinji added. “She lives in Acapulco.”

  “Why didn’t you go to the center there?”

  “It’s not as good,” Kinji said. “And I needed to come back here for personal business anyway. I was in town two days ago — even here in the center, if you want to look it up. That’s what got me thinking about it. I think you do good work.”

  The nurse nodded. “I see.”

  Kinji gave Tania’s name and contact information to check in, then her own, opening her link to give a full presentation.

  The nurse’s gaze snapped up, and Kinji felt its chill.

  He was scanning her, she was certain.

  It took all her willpower not to rip her gaze from the nurse to see if the security sentries were reacting.

  If they did, this exercise was over.

  “Yes,” Kinji said. “That’s me. I spoke to a police inspector afterwards. He took my report. Did you ever find Mr. Montgomery? I hope he’s all right.”

  “Yes,” the nurse said. “He is in very good condition.”

  “That’s good, I suppose.”

  “You suppose?”

  “I don’t really know him.”

  “I suppose not.”

  The nurse turned to Tania. “Give me your hand, please.”

  Tania laid her hand out on the counter, palm up for the nurse to scan. He passed a hand over hers and registered her identification.

  “We’ll have you here for three days, right?” he said to Tania.

  “Of course,” she said. “Three days of glory and relaxation!”

  “I take it you’re agreeing of your own volition to submit yourself to the cleansing?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “Very good. I’ll have a nurse take you back in a moment.”

  “Will I be able t
o go with her?” Kinji said.

  “You can escort her to her cube, but once she’s settled you’ll have to leave.”

  “That would be great.” Kinji wrapped her arm around Tania’s shoulders and gave her a squeeze.

  The nurse came in, this one female but wearing the same style of scrub as the rest. “You can come with me, Ms. Brae.”

  Tania took the woman in.

  “Hush,” Kinji said to her.

  Wonders be. Tania actually bit her lip.

  They were escorted through a twisty hallway, Kinji leading Tania past pods with patients in some and others empty. She logged every step, comparing their location with her inner map so she could figure out how to get back.

  As they made their way into the wing, Kinji remembered the isolation of the interview room and the cold gaze of the inspector. There would be no hiding this time. Screw up and it was for real.

  “We’re right in here,” the nurse said, standing aside to let Tania in.

  Kinji followed.

  “You can change if you would like.”

  “Don’t you like me as I am?” Tania said.

  The nurse chuckled. “Very funny.”

  “Yes,” Kinji said. “Tania is a true comedian.”

  “I’ll leave you alone.”

  She left, and the door slid shut.

  CHAPTER 29

  “You’re asking me to do what?” Maine said.

  Pauli turned to DeJenna with a pained expression. “I warned you. He’s just another fucking bust.”

  DeJenna held up a hand and they both quieted.

  She looked at Maine.

  Maine’s gaze bounced back and forth between them.

  The guy she introduced as Pauli was taller than him, and probably twenty kilos heavier — most of it an early paunch that he covered up in a loose-fitting shirt.

  DeJenna spoke in a direct tone. “You said you would do anything for Beatrice.”

  “Yes, but I didn’t think that included blowing myself up.”

  “It might not happen.”

  “Only if I can do something over five hundred meters — with two goddamned turns no less — in less than a minute.” He did mental math. It was the turns that would kill him. He could do 400 meters in forty-five seconds at a straight sprint. Add an extra hundred meters in what would certainly be a gross ventilation duct, and it was dicey but doable—especially if the ducts were as large as DeJenna and Pauli were promising. But doing the same thing with a pair of turns thrown in … well. He scanned the two, astonishment making his cheeks warm. “Can’t be done.”