The Book of Eadie, Volume One of the Seventeen Trilogy

by Mark D. Diehl

  “I know. But if that happens you won’t do much good with your stick, anyway.”

  She kept turning her head, scanning, taking short practice swings. Dok reached out tentatively to touch her shoulders, wanting to reassure her, but decided against it.

  Rosa appeared, striding past Dok and stopping directly in front of Eadie. The two looked into each other’s eyes and seemed to recognize the same angry fire. “Thank you,” Rosa said, offering her hand.

  Eadie reached out slowly and grasped it. “Any time.”

  “Hey, Dok,” Kel called. “Got some more business for you over here.”

  Dok left Eadie with Rosa, glad to put a little distance between the two intense women and himself. The little girl was holding Arrulfo’s hand. “Dude says he was comin’ to see a famous doctor here,” Kel said. “Li’l one’s sick, somehow. Lookin’ for a doctor who’s got dark skin, he says.”

  Dok bent down to look at the little one but she hid behind Arulfo. “Mari is sometime shy,” Arrulfo said. “She is … the child of Rosa’s sister? Rosa take care of her now. She knows me a little bit.”

  Kel was starting to pace restlessly, looking watchful but impatient. “Dok, man, maybe you oughta check her someplace else. No tellin’ if those punks’re comin’ back. Prob’ly will.”

  Rosa walked up to Arrulfo, saying something in Spanish. Arrulfo answered her, then turned back to Dok. “We need one minute with Marcos. Then maybe we come with you so the doctor can look at Mari?”

  Dok nodded. “Of course. We’ll get out of here and see what we can do.” He looked around. “There’s an area not far away that we might want to head for. It’s an entertainment district; really twisted, deviant sorts of shit. I got talked into going there for an emergency call once … At least I can guarantee nobody there’s going to ask any questions about our group or why we want a cheap room.”

  Nobody moved except for Eadie, who was approaching the group with the stick still in her hand. “Good enough for me,” she said. “Let’s go.”

  Moving through the Zone

  “You told me to carry that pipe and you knew it had drugs and gold coins and a gun in it!” Lawrence said, glaring down at Kel from above his column of hair.

  Old Fart cleared his throat to intervene but had no idea how to start. Eadie strode on ahead, with Dok scurrying to catch up. The pace she set was making Old Fart pant.

  “Little louder, whydoncha, peckerhead. I don’ think the Feds heard you, yet.” Kel avoided eye contact with Lawrence, instead making exaggerated motions as he peered around corners, up along rooftops and into other places enemies might hide.

  “Yeah, what about the Feds? This isn’t a joke! It’s the fucking death penalty.”

  “Death penalty was kickin’ you outta your marshmallow life, shithead. They awready got you.”

  Old Fart grabbed Lawrence’s hand just before it would have squeezed Kel’s shoulder. “Stop it, both of you.” He lowered Lawrence’s hand. “Lawrence, I like you. I don’t want to see you get hurt. And please keep your voices down. Anyone you attract won’t be doing us any favors.”

  Lawrence turned to Old Fart without breaking stride. “Are you standing up for him, sir?” His voice was lower, his teeth were clenched. “You held that pipe for a little while, too. You’re the one who found the gun. The Feds would’ve killed you as fast as me.”

  “I know that. But we’ll settle this in a civilized manner.”

  Lawrence deflated a little.

  Kel sped up. Old Fart took a few running steps to get in front of him, stopping him with his palm squarely in Kel’s chest. “Kel, what you did was wrong. You know that, at least, don’t you?”

  Kel’s chin came up, tilting the long column of hair backward. “This is the Zone, all right? Got to look out for yourself here.”

  “That’s not good enough. If we’re all going to stick together for a while, we need to be able to trust each other.” Old Fart lowered his hand.

  “Fuck you. I brought you here. You don’ know shit. I stop lookin’ out for me an’ thinking someone else is gonna do it, I’m fuckin’ dead. Awright? Fuckin’ dead.”

  Old Fart shook his head. “Looking out for yourself is fine. Deceiving your friends and involving us in dangerous situations without our knowledge is not. You are plenty smart enough to know the difference.” He looked at Eadie, who had doubled back to watch. Kel followed his gaze.

  Eadie turned to Arrulfo. “You should know a few things. We’ve got Feds looking for us, Unnamed, too. We’re flat broke, except maybe for Old Fart, and the last building we were in burned to the ground.” She turned her head, taking in all the Latinos. “That’s the situation. If you still want to come along with us, you’re welcome. It’s your choice.” She started walking again, passing Dok and heading off without turning her head again.

  Kel sighed. “Awright, awright. Listen, you guys. I knew Brian had some shit in that pipe. Prob’ly gold, maybe a little powder—but he always had all his big shit with him when he went out. And always the fuckin’ gun. Brian never went anyplace without that fuckin’ gun. When I saw that, that’s when I knew Brian’s dead.” He glanced up at Lawrence from under heavy-looking eyelids. “I didn’ know it was this bad of shit. Sorry.”

  Lawrence nodded. Kel turned, taking a few quick running steps in Eadie’s direction.

  En la calle

  “Sure, Rosa,” Arrulfo whispered in Spanish as they walked along at the back of the group. “Without them, we would be dead now. But why would they do that, risking themselves for people they do not know? This is very strange. We can have the doctor look at Mari, but no matter what he says we must get away from them as soon as we can. Even if the doctor says we must stay.”

  “Do you think they saved us from the gangs so they can kill us themselves?” she asked.

  “You know what I mean. They are crazy, this group! Look at that old office worker. How is he even still alive, wearing that uniform in the Zone? And the student kid—his son, maybe? They must be in some kind of trouble, or they would never come here, would never even speak to that disturbing vagrant or to Kel, the fighting machine. And all of them, even the doctor, follow this girl,” he nodded at Eadie, far ahead of them. “Why do they do that? I’m glad she got them to fight for us, but even cut and beaten up as badly as she is, she’s the scariest person I’ve ever seen.”

  “Do you not feel it, Arrulfo? They follow because she leads. It’s not about them. It’s about her. She’s scary because there is real power in her. I feel that, I respect that. I will stay with her. Mari needs this doctor, so she will stay, too. You can go when you like.”

  A particularly seedy part of the Zone

  Eadie suddenly stopped walking and stared up at a dilapidated three-story building. A faded piece of cardboard in a front window read “Rooms for Rent. Nightly / Hourly.” She moved toward the entrance and the entire group fell in step behind her.

  “How will we know what the powder is?” Old Fart asked Dok.

  “I’ve got a machine—a spectrometer—it’s in my bag,” Dok said. “Essential equipment since I buy so many herbs and powders. We’ll find out what it is … unless it’s something new. And believe me, if it’s something new, we want to get rid of it right away.”

  Old Fart quickly stepped around Eadie, opening the door for her. She walked briskly through, followed by Dok, then Kel and the group of Latinos. The Prophet shuffled slowly in after them. Lawrence took hold of the door, inviting Old Fart to enter ahead of him. Old Fart shook his head, motioning for Lawrence to pass. Lawrence smiled and gestured again. Old Fart nodded his assent, stepping through the doorway graciously. The door closed behind them, sealing them into a small reception area with dirty white walls and a couple of chairs from which most of the orange fabric had long since shredded away. A few woven rag rugs were tied over the bare springs and foam. The room was thick with the smell of burned hair. Someone screamed in a distant room—a woman, maybe, judging from the pitch. A clerk sat at a table in the co
rner, staring at the screen on the opposite wall, watching the news.

  … dashing hopes that improved desalination technologies would help to ease tensions in the Asian region. Of course, no water can be as tasty and revitalizing as Evian, which is sponsoring this portion of our report.

  Unfortunately, water is only one of many critical resources that were exhausted in Asia over the last century. National and ethnic rivalries over everything from metal ores to clean air have continued to intensify even as availability of fresh water has increased. To this point, incidents of violence have been only sporadic, but clashes are rapidly becoming more frequent and intense. There is concern the conflict will soon escalate into full-scale war …

  Eadie and Dok approached the clerk to make arrangements for a room as a middle-aged salarywoman pulled a young muscular man away from check-in with a hand down the front of his tight shorts. Old Fart jogged over to the table, offering to pay with the money he’d discovered during the fight. Eadie snatched the key from the clerk’s hand and set off down the hall toward the stairwell. Lawrence hurried after her.

  The hall was only wide enough for one person to pass at a time, and the stairwell was more like a closet with a narrow spiral of steps nailed along the walls. The upstairs hall was equally narrow and the lighting was so dim it was difficult to see the room numbers. The group reassembled in the passageway as Eadie fumbled with the key, trying to locate the keyhole in the gloom.

  “No,” Arrulfo was saying as they came into the room. “The old man, he is more tired than me.”

  “But it makes sense,” Eadie said. “You and Kel fought hardest, and we might need you most if there’s a problem. You two should sleep first.”

  Arrulfo shook his head. “I gotta talk for Rosa and Mari when they tell the doctor about Mari’s problem.”

  “Do whatever you want, man,” Kel said. “I’m sleepin’.” He dropped the broken and twisted pieces of his lighter, evidently smashed in the fight, and flopped onto the bed, turning his face to the wall.

  The kid with the bloodied eye, Ernesto, quietly scooped the jagged parts from the floor into his palm. “I fix,” he whispered, taking the broken pieces to a corner by the door.

  Lawrence stared doubtfully. Arrulfo nodded at Ernesto and assured Lawrence it was so. “He will fix. You see? The plastic, it is not broken. Only the pieces … the little metal pieces on top. He will fix.”

  Rosa called Arrulfo over to where Dok was looking at Mari. Dok gently pressed the skin on the back of Mari’s hand and the girl yelped, pulling her hand away. “Tell her I’m just looking to see how her skin responds, would you?” Dok asked Arrulfo.

  Old Fart looked uncertainly around the room, helpless because nobody had yet issued any invitations. Lawrence smiled slightly, using both hands to indicate that he should take the bed. Old Fart nodded gratefully and sunk down onto the mattress.

  Eadie began pacing the floor between the door and the wall, still holding the stick ready to confront another attacker, managing only a step and a half in each direction.

  Lawrence suppressed the impulse to physically help her sit down. “Eadie?” he said.

  She continued to pace. He flicked on the room’s grimy video screen, turning the volume down low. “Here. This will be good,” he said. “Good.” He nodded. “We’ll check the local news and see if there’s anything about our situation, okay? Anything about you, me, or Matt Ricker.”

  Her eyes shot to the screen.

  Lawrence nodded. “Right. Let’s see what we can find out. Go ahead and sit down, and we’ll watch. You can sit down. You can.”

  She lowered herself to the foot of the bed. He found some local news clips, scanning through the choices. There was nothing about Matt Ricker in the current material, but there would undoubtedly be something from the day of the incident, probably with footage from the diner’s cameras. He glanced at Eadie, still holding her stick at the ready. Seeing herself on the news would most certainly not help her calm down. He sighed and flicked his wrist, sliding the local news out of view.

  One of the national spots caught his attention. It read, “Latest Scientist Fired From Genetics Company Claims I.Q. Cocktail in Works.” Lawrence blinked. He and his father had discussed this story in one of their last conversations. It had been just a few days ago.

  Eadie fidgeted, almost standing. He touched the screen, playing the video.

  “Okay, Eadie,” he said as the news people started talking. “Let’s try this one. Maybe there’s something useful here.” The video played on, over Dok’s questions to Rosa, Arrulfo’s translations, and Old Fart’s snoring.

  … claims the treatment consists of several small doses, to be administered throughout early childhood. Amelix denies that such an “I.Q. Cocktail” exists, but Becker is calling for—

  “Stupid fuck!” The Prophet stood before the image, blocking it completely. The words he had screamed seemed to hang over him. His voice had lost its strange, unnatural calm, taking on a more rasping slur that made him sound like every other angry drunk. “Mutation is the hand of God! You’ve seen what happens when all you do is talk!” The Prophet turned to face the room. He teetered but braced a hand against the wall to steady himself. He stood there a moment, panting as if he had just climbed several floors of stairs. “The hand of God can be turned. It’s what our species does. But it cannot be turned with words!”

  Both sleepers stirred.

  The Prophet spun around again. “Stupid fuck!” He snatched the screen and shook it violently, jerking it against the tether that chained it to the wall. “Stupid!”

  Lawrence stood, reaching over the Prophet’s shoulder to remove the machine from his hands. “It’s all right,” he said. “It’s okay. We know they’re stupid. We know. It’s probably best for everyone if we stay quiet.” He gently set the computer screen back in its place. “Quiet. That’s what we need right now. Everybody needs to have a little peace.” He guided the Prophet to a spot against the wall, sitting him down, where he settled into a trance, or maybe a stupor.

  The little girl screeched. She kicked Dok in the shin and stuck her thumb in his eye, screaming something over and over in Spanish. Rosa took Mari in her arms, rocking back and forth and whispering, but she cried on.

  Old Fart sighed and went back to sleep. Kel’s eyes remained wide open, staring at the ceiling.

  Arrulfo turned to Dok. “I do not understand this,” he said. “I told Mari you would find out what is making her sick. I told her you must look into her eyes.” He pointed to his own eyes, then to Mari’s. “Ojos. Eyes. But she keep saying don’t touch her nose. Over and over, she says it. ‘Don’t touch my nose.’ Maybe she got a pain in her nose? Some virus?”

  Eadie’s stick clattered to the floor. She stared at it, then bent and picked it up without ever taking her eyes from it. She ran her fingers over its surface, caressing every notch and dent. Lawrence was less than a meter away from her, but her distant expression made him feel like he was watching archival footage of someone long gone. “Not a virus,” she said, her voice faint and ghostly as she stared at the weapon. “Not a what. A who. Someone made her sick. Holding her nose closed is the best way to make her open her mouth.”

  Dok stared at her for a moment with his hand cupped over the eye Mari had jabbed. He rubbed his forehead and turned to Arrulfo. “I haven’t found any physical causes for her illness yet. Maybe Eadie has a point. It’s possible Mari’s problem has psychological origins. Might she ever have been abused?”

  Arrulfo’s expression was vacant. His mouth hung open a little. He put his hand on Rosa’s shoulder. “We don’ know how long she was alone before Rosa get her from her sister’s home. Mari’s father was killed when Mari was a baby—some criminal stab him, for his money. But when Mari’s mother died somewhere outside, Mari was home alone.”

  Dok watched as Mari sobbed, more quietly now, her face buried in Rosa’s shoulder. Eadie started talking again, still staring at the stick.

  “Somebody needs to
change all that. Somebody needs to find a way to make a world without Mari’s type of pain. Without her humiliation.” She was talking to the stick, as if trying to convince it. “It’s like the notebook said: Someone has to do it.”

  Still seated on the floor where Lawrence had placed him, the Prophet closed his eyes, nodding deeply.

  13

  A wretched Zone tenement

  The woman’s yawn elongated the deep creases and lines on her face. From what Hawkins had seen from the restaurant’s video cameras, the daughter was still rather pretty. This mother looked like something from a cheap monster movie. The transient beauty of its women was one of the Zone’s cruel deceptions.

  “As I said in my messages, your daughter was involved in an incident at the restaurant where she was getting her vocational training.” Hawkins said. “I need to ask you a few questions.”

  The woman leaned against the edge of the door she was holding only slightly ajar. “I don’t know anything,” she said. “She just sleeps here. Hasn’t been here in a long time.”

  “We’ll get to that when I ask the questions.” Hawkins pushed on the door. The woman put her foot behind it.

  “Look, I said I don’t know anything. If I knew, I’d tell you. But I have a two-hour commute ahead of me …”

  Hawkins sighed. “I know you Zone people have very little to lose, and that’s one of the reasons you’re always so difficult. Especially the Departed, like you. I always have to lean hardest on the Golden people who failed and were cast out because you all feel like you have something to prove. But you should be aware that I have full authority to continue this interrogation at the Federal Administration Complex. I can escort you there immediately, or you can let me in and give me some answers.”

  The woman’s eyes widened. The Complex was intimidating, even to Hawkins. It occupied nearly as much real estate as the entire Central Business District, and was full of bureaucrats, Agents, and multiple battalions of the armed services. A single aircraft hangar there was large enough to hold a few thousand little hovels like this one.