The man at the table stood up, held his hand out to the blonde lady, and led her back into the house after blowing out the candles.
Marcie jumped.
Sal said, “What are you doing?”
She spread her arms and focused on their back garden. Twisting and turning through the vehicles, she landed, her legs absorbing the shock.
“Marcie,” Sal hissed, “what’s going on?”
The light from the house spilled out into the back garden, but Marcie found a dark corner. Even if they weren’t tearing off one another’s clothes, they probably wouldn’t have seen her.
“Marce? Answer me.”
Two steps closer to the door and into the light. The woman would see her if she looked up. The man would see her if he took his head from between her legs. The lady had left her handbag on the ground. Marcie would get a bag like that when she moved to the city. Like the woman, she’d have a purse, a make-up bag, a diary to keep her busy life in order. The couple remained locked into one another, the woman now topless.
“Well, this is awkward,” Sal said.
“Shall I look away?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Pervert.” Marcie ran two steps and jumped out of their walled garden towards one of the closer, low down towers.
While standing on the roof, she lifted the rose up in front of her vision. “We don’t have these in the Blind Spot. I wanted one.”
“Wasn’t it a bit risky for the sake of a rose?”
“Some would say it’s romantic. Besides, I’ve never had one before.” When she moved to the city, she’d have fresh roses every day.
Although Sal drew a breath to speak, he stopped at the whoop, whoop of a police siren.
A wall of blue flashing lights as cars tore through the skylanes towards her. “Damn,” she muttered. “I’m guessing one of those cars must have reported me.”
“And you’ve stayed in the same spot for too long.” Click, whir. “It looks like they’ve sent the entire force after you. Do they have any cameras?”
A wall of red circles, but none of them were drones. “I don’t think—oh shit! Yes, they do!”
“Wrench and my dad are going to kill you when that footage gets back to them. Especially as you’re not supposed to be in the city right now.”
“I got distracted!”
“Because of a stupid rose?”
What could she say to that?
“Anyway,” Sal said, “they won’t care that you got distracted. Just get out of there. Now!”
Chapter 43
Marcie turned her back on the wall of blue flashing lights and ran, leaping from the low tower block. Boom! She left a deep dent in the roof of a family wagon. Fuck ’em. If the car beeped, the police sirens behind drowned it out. Their alarms shrill, they went off at different times, sending needles into her ears and making her head spin. Thankfully, her microprocessor didn’t lose its balance.
At the apex of her leap, Marcie spread her arms and legs wide, catching the cold wind as she glided for the next tower. The police gained on her.
“Where are you going?” Sal said.
A sharp left and then right, Marcie avoided a pair of scooters, agile like a swallow. An old woman drove the next car, her face pressed so close to the window her nose damn near touched it. Someone who clearly hadn’t accepted automated travel.
The sirens grew louder. Either more joined the pack or they were closer. Marcie remained focused on the old woman’s car, hitting the roof with a thud! She kicked off it like she had on the last one, each boost launching her away from the sirens, the police gaining while she glided.
“What’s going on, Marce?”
Much higher up now, Marcie spread her wings again. The skylanes were less congested, the top routes reserved for long-haul journeys. “I’m trying to lose them.”
A mess of red warnings flashed through Marcie’s eyes. The cars in front, the police and their CCTV drones behind.
The sirens grew louder. If Marcie looked back, she’d crash. Her legs took the shock of the landing, gravel spraying away from her. A quickened pulse and heavy breaths, she turned around.
Sal said it best. “Oh shit.”
A swarm of flashing lights. More than before.
“All of this because of a rose. Really, Marcie?”
Marcie ran and leaped from the next roof, the Apollo Tower in her sights.
A trail of furious drivers in her wake, Marcie hopped from the roof of a black van and reached out, grabbing the lip of the Apollo Tower’s roof. Twitches and spasms tore up and down her arms as she pulled herself to safety. Or at least clear of a fall.
Sal waited for her to climb onto the roof. Click, whir. “That was too close.”
Several deep breaths to level herself out, Marcie said, “You’re telling me.” Now on the tallest building in the city, the stunning blanket of lights spread out before her, Marcie spun three hundred and sixty degrees. The police were coming at her from every angle.
“You didn’t think this one through, did you?”
As much as she wanted to tell Sal the plan, she couldn’t trust him to keep his mouth shut. She checked the front pouch of her suit. She still had it. When she lifted the rose, Sal said, “Is now really the time?”
“Shouldn’t I at least appreciate it if I’m going to get locked up for it?”
“You won’t get locked up.”
“You think they’ll let me back into the Blind Spot? Wrench’s daughter causing chaos through the city at the height of the terror attacks. I might have been anonymous, but not anymore. If the attacks weren’t going to start a war, this will.”
A loud clack snapped Marcie’s attention to her right. The swarm of red circles in her vision vanished, replaced by one large one, much closer than the others. The net twisted as it spun through the air. Marcie jumped, the net flying beneath her and catching one of the police cars closing in from the other side. It dragged the wailing siren away.
Three more clacks and three more nets came at her. Marcie dodged them all, jumping two and ducking one.
“You need to get out of there, Marce. You can’t get caught.”
Marcie ran across the Apollo Tower’s roof and leaped at what appeared to be the least congested spot. She looked into the widening eyes of the officer in the car. A moment later, she kicked off the windscreen with a loud crunch of breaking glass, launching herself clear of the tightening ring of law enforcement. They’d never dealt with someone like her before.
Emergency vehicles weren’t locked in to the traffic mainframe. The car Marcie hit lost control, slamming into the side of the Apollo Tower.
More nimble in her suit than the police in their vehicles, Marcie caught a current and lifted by several metres before she pulled her arms into her sides and dived like a peregrine falcon. Her eyes worked overtime, slight twists and turns taking her through the lanes of traffic while the sirens faded behind her. The howling wind rang in her ears, and her cheeks pulled back. Her eyes continued working for her. Grit tapped against her glasses.
Click, whir.
Marcie hit the next roof, skidded for several metres, took a step, turned a hard right, and leaped again. She landed on the neighbouring tower, and just before she leaped for the next building, she felt her pocket. Her heart damn near stopped. She turned around and ran back the way she’d come.
“What are you doing?” Sal said.
“My rose.”
“Screw your rose. Get out of there.”
Any advantage Marcie might have had because of her fearless dive had now vanished, the lights close again. The blood red flower lay on the white gravel where she’d dropped it.
The warning came too late. She must have missed the clack! The spread of a net on her left gathered her up and dragged her from the roof. She fell towards the ground while Sal cried out, “Marcie!”
Chapter 44
Sal screamed through the headphones. If Marcie had a free hand, she would have turned him off. He
r heart in her mouth, she managed the organic fear while the machines took over. They found the weak spot in the net, her cybernetic arms loaded with the power she needed. She tore it wide, fell from the entanglement, and spread her wings just metres before she hit the ground.
Several quick twists and turns to avoid the people on the streets, Marcie landed at a run and darted down a nearby alley.
Seconds later, she burst from the other side. The sirens behind her grew distant, her legs working overtime to get her away. Marcie ran at a restaurant opposite her. Two guards on the door, they tensed and raised their fists. She barged them aside and ran into the building.
The patrons’ screams lit up the air as Marcie took to the tables. The quickest route through the restaurant, her eyes guided a centimetre-perfect run.
Red warnings all around her, she ignored them all. Who’d want to risk attacking her right now?
A window about three metres high and ten metres wide made up the far wall of the restaurant. It let in the glow of the city’s nightlife beyond. Sal screamed again when she leaped at it.
Leading with her feet, Marcie pulled her knees to her waist and kicked out at the glass. Her thick boots hit it like a jackhammer, the window exploding away from her, showering the street with small pieces of glass.
Marcie landed with a crunch, the people around her screaming. And she couldn’t blame them. She’d blown that window out like a bomb had gone off.
Another dark alleyway, she ran down it, her GPS flashing through her vision. Not far now.
“Where are you going, Marce?” Sal asked.
At the end of the next alleyway, Marcie turned left and sprinted for the decorative wheelie bin, her lungs about ready to pop. She pulled her glasses off as she ran and unzipped her flying suit. She skidded to a stop in front of the bin, dragged the tray from beneath it, and emptied the contents on the street.
A sweat damp forehead, she threw the glasses in the tray and then stuffed her flying suit on top.
The sirens closed in.
After dressing in her power suit—trousers, shirt, and a smart jacket—she hugged the anonymity mask to her chest and slid the tray back into place.
Her pulse thundering, Marcie left the alleyway at the opposite end and headed for the Blind Spot.
Despite the wailing sirens and flashing lights in the distance, Marcie managed to slip into a group of rowdy citizens unnoticed. She remained with the chaotic crowd heading for the Blind Spot, throwing her hands in the air and screaming jubilation so she became a part of the insanity.
Close to the entrance, Marcie slipped on her anonymity mask and broke away from the pack.
Although she looked from one guard to the other and they looked back at her, they didn’t try to stop her entering the main alley.
Several steps into the place and she heaved a relieved sigh.
Several more steps and she looked down at the rose in her hands. It’s crimson velvet damn near took her breath away. Whatever the consequences, she’d gotten what she came for. Just a shame she’d had to lie to Sal about it.
Chapter 45
Maybe he would have handled it differently had he not been blindsided by Adam, but Nick had to leave the party yesterday so he could be alone. And Adam would understand. Besides, he woke up to plenty of lifts, so they clearly weren’t that pissed off with him.
Mid-morning already, Nick had a quiet day ahead. Most Saturday mornings before cricket, he and Karla would go to the local coffee shop for a latte, pastry, and the papers. A perfect way to start the weekend. At least, it used to be.
It didn’t matter that he’d listened to them at least five times already that morning, Nick went into his front room, lay on the sofa, and pressed play on his Wellbeing app again.
“You have eighty-six lifts,” the female voice told him.
Nick closed his eyes and listened to them from the start.
Sunday morning delivered far fewer lifts than Saturday. A day in the house yesterday, it clearly showed how few people mentioned or thought about him. Out of sight and all that. Although, he still had twenty.
Several from Adam, Jane, and some of the other people from work. Even a couple of the boys on the cricket team. They missed him, wished him well, but they didn’t ask him to come back.
On his fourth cup of coffee that morning, Nick sat on the hard stool in front of the breakfast bar, his elbows hurting from where he’d leaned on the marble worktop for so long. A caffeine-driven tremble ran through him. He’d probably have another day in the house.
He drew a deep breath and said, “Adam’s a great guy. I hope he does well in his new job. Jane …”
Monday morning, Nick sat in his usual spot at the breakfast bar in his all-white kitchen. The red and yellow of the Wellbeing app lit up his phone when he pressed the screen. Still no new lifts. He’d only had four that morning, all of them from Jane. At least someone thought about him. Karla and Bruce hadn’t left any since Friday.
And how could he expect Adam to leave him any? He had enough on his mind that morning. A job in the Apollo Tower, it didn’t get any grander than that. “Adam’s so funny. I’m sure all the people in his new job will think so too. Good luck, mate.”
A lack of lifts, but were people saying anything about him? He’d even take the negatives right now. At least it showed he mattered in some way.
The large clock on his kitchen wall ticked through the silence of the room. If he wanted to be on time for work, he’d best leave soon. For the first time in years, anxiety balled in his stomach at the thought of going to the office. He got to his feet and stretched as if it would somehow spend the nervous energy pumping through him.
The second Nick sat down at his desk, his phone rang. The shrill call cut to his core and rattled through his skull. “Hello.”
Stuart’s voice. “Nick.”
“Hi, Stuart, shall I come down?”
“No, it’s fine.”
The first time in a long while that Stuart hadn’t wanted to see him face-to-face. Nick frowned as he listened to his boss. “I just wanted to raise a few points with you.”
“Oooo-kay.”
“Morale’s dropping in the office, big time. The atmosphere’s not what it was.”
“Look, Stuart—”
But Stuart cut him off with a sigh. “I get it, I really do. The funny guy’s left and you’ve split up with Karla. Give it a few days and you’ll be back to your good old self. However, in the meantime, I want you to stay late tonight.”
“Stay late?”
“Make up for your downer mood by being more productive. If you can’t lift people in that way, at least you can set a good example with your work.”
The phone clicked as Stuart hung up.
At the end of the day, Nick tried to force a smile at his staff and the women in accounts as they left. Put on a brave face, lift morale, and he wouldn’t have to work late anymore. Also, he’d get more lifts.
The last one out, Graham walked past Nick’s desk and said, “See you in the morning.”
Nick caught his response before he let rip. Stuart needed him to lift morale. He nodded. “See you in the morning.”
The second Graham left, Nick looked at his phone. No lifts. No one had mentioned him all day. At least, no one had said anything nice about him. It had been a long time since that had happened.
On the late bus home, many of the seats empty, Nick watched the city fly past outside. Already dark, the white lights blurred with the speed of the bus. They passed the large anonymity dome covering the Blind Spot. Johns, slack-jaws, and god knew who else entering the place, all of them in anonymity masks. No one would know who they were or what they did.
As the bus closed in on the stop near the Blind Spot, Nick stood up. His throat dry, his pulse quickening, his palms sweating. He should sit back down. But he kept moving forward. How bad could it really be? He could take what people said about him, whatever they said. Better to be informed than ignorant.
A shop close to
the Blind Spot sold anonymity masks. A sign promised all identities would be protected. Nick checked both ways. No CCTV. No one interested in him being there. A long corridor of a shop, he picked a mask up as he walked down it, put it on, and when he got to the end, paid for it. Easy enough.
One of the agreements keeping the cold war between the Blind Spot and the city on ice was they could sell anonymity masks in the city. The Blind Spot needed the city’s credits to survive, and the city didn’t want to be wiped out, the entire place rendered obsolete by highly skilled hackers. Or as good as obsolete—everyone would retain their mental faculties if not their digital ones. Despite the terrorist attacks, it would take a lot for the war to kick off. Both sides had too much to lose.
As anonymous as the rest of the johns and slack-jaws, Nick joined the crowd entering the Blind Spot. The second he stepped through the anonymity dome, he stumbled back. Neon signs, loud music, cybernetics of every description both on sale behind windows and visible on the citizens walking the streets. Even if he didn’t want to fuck or get high, he’d have to pass through the red-light district to get to the hackers. He might not have been to this place before, and no one admitted to visiting, but almost everyone in Scala City could tell you how to get what you wanted in the place. Everyone had a friend who’d visited the Blind Spot.
The Blind Spot Page 17
