Shadow Dragon

by wade coleman

  A terminal appears, and she stands in front of it. “What exactly are you looking for, Hermes darling?”

  I smile, accepting my pet name. Artificial Intelligence personalities form the first day. I did some research and found it’s best to let AI’s express themselves, so if she wants to call me darling, why not? Besides, it increases the chances that they’ll get along better with their host. With the thirty percent suicide rate for Mark 5 implants, I’ve decided to give Natasha space to express herself.

  She looks at me, waiting for me to say something. “I’m looking for information on his friends, where’s he been, things like that.”

  Natasha types into her terminal while I look over her shoulder.

  “Why are you pretending to type? You’re directly accessing the information on Mark’s helmet.”

  She turns her head and smiles. “Research shows humans prefer something familiar when dealing with something new.”

  Images flash across the screen faster than I can recognize them.

  “Mark was the CEO of a Seattle based firm, the Blue Algae Inc. The company makes algae that is a substitute for lab-grown meat. In the last six weeks, he’s made three trips to Frisco.”

  A video of a house party taken by the helmet appears, and Natasha points to a man with brown hair and brown eyes, a few inches shorter than the man next to him.

  “This is Mark, my previous owner.”

  She points to the other man. He’s well-muscled and over six feet tall. “This is Jason Baron of Baron Enterprise.”

  The hairs go up on the back of my neck. Kim was right; these two men are connected.

  They’re too far away for audio. “Can you read lips?”

  “Wait, darling…I found a program preloaded into the new helmet.” She zooms in on their faces.

  “Of course, my company jet is at your disposal.” Mark’s voice is replaced by closed captions on the bottom of the screen.

  “Excellent,” the Baron tells him. He puts his hand on Mark’s shoulder. “I have to work tonight. Please stay the night and try our new models.”

  The Baron leaves the area while Mark walks up to his helmet and puts it on. He heads into an atrium with a lapis lazuli floor and passes through the doors of what was once a medieval chapel.

  When the first Christian churches formed, they avoided the round buildings of the pagan temples. Instead, they made the Roman shopping mall sacred, a central hall with pillars on each side. Behind the pillars, the merchants set up their shops while people walk down the central aisle.

  One side of the pillars is a long bar. The other is silk curtains forming small rooms. A holographic mirror ball floats above the central dance floor. Rows of identical women dance to Addicted to Love. Their steps precisely the same, mechanical. Their hair is pulled back into buns, lips bright red. Each row of androids is a different color, making a rainbow.

  The billboard above displays an online auction. They’re selling androids in lots of twelve. The going price is six million credits.

  Mark ignores the dancers and heads to the curtains. Women stand in front of red silk doors. He passes a tall West African woman and a twelve-year-old dressed like a cocktail waitress. His eyes fix on a blonde woman with a narrow nose, full lips, and yellow eyes. She leads him behind the silk curtains.

  “I’ve seen enough elf porn. How much stock did Mark own in his company?”

  She turns off the screen and twirls her hair like she’s thinking. “Ten percent. Mark’s senior staff holds another thirty percent.”

  “Sounds like Baron Enterprises is planning a takeover.”

  I spend the next few hours watching videos: most are of Mark jumping out of his plane and gliding in a wingsuit. The rest is porn. He seems to have a thing for women with slight builds and elven features.

  “Thanks, Natasha.” I take off the helmet. My copper-lined office is stuffy and hot. Walking out of the shop and into the kitchen, I see no one is home. I text Kim: “Where are you?”

  “Back in ten,” her words come back.

  I sit on the front porch and eat an orange. The shade trees cast shadows in the afternoon sun. Things have been so busy; it’s nice to relax for once.

  Kim pulls up on her bike, parks in the driveway and takes off her helmet. She joins me on the covered porch and takes a chair beside me.

  I wash the orange off my hands with a garden hose and dry them on my pants.

  “Your mom showed me around. You farmers like your iced tea and gossip.”

  “So, you met with Mom’s book club.”

  Kim rocks in her chair. “I didn’t see any books. I told them about the virus, and they switched from tea to booze.”

  Kim rocks, looking out at the road, and sighs. “Couple of the women looked down their noses at me for my previous occupation. They might make trouble when it comes to voting me into the neighborhood.”

  “It’s only a matter of time before the Colonel comes to shake me down for his share of the eight million. I’ll work a deal with him.”

  I change the subject: “We need a place to stay in downtown South Frisco.”

  “That's Inner-City gang territory. I still have a price on my head for stealing the doctor’s computer tablet.”

  “How much?”

  “A thousand silver.”

  “If we pay them off, will they leave you alone?”

  “Maybe. The Inner-City Gang is of Japanese descent. They have rules and honor. But gangs and Purebloods work closely together. Since they legalized drugs and prostitution, the only way for gangs make money is by protection, running guns and hacking people up for their organs.”

  Kim continues: “Purebloods see mutants as walking spare parts. The gangs see us as sources of income, so you either pay for protection or get killed for your organs. Gangs suck the life out of the city.”

  “Not a ringing endorsement of the Inner-City Gang, but it will have to do,” I say and I rock in my chair. “If anyone knows something about the virus, it’s Mr. Fukui. It’s risky, but I have a plan to minimize the risk.”

  Dad rides up and parks next to Kim’s bike. On his way up the walk, he pulls out a small sack; inside are two leather cases the size of a small purse. He hands one to each of us.

  Standing up, Kim asks, “What’s this?”

  “The best body-armor on the market.” Daniel opens a case that holds a long sleeve semi-transparent shirt with a hood. “You wear it under your clothes. It’s made with spider-silk, and it only weighs a pound. Like Hermes vest, it becomes rigid on impact, so it cushions the blow. It will stop rounds from pistols, but not rifles.”

  “How much was it?”

  “Twenty thousand credits each. “Your share of the jet engine covered the cost.”

  Kim puts on the glove and punches the cinder block wall. “I thought this shit was illegal, reserved for military and law enforcement?”

  “Nope, the courts ruled that it was every person’s right to protect themselves from harm, especially since mutants no longer have the right to own firearms since the War Powers Act was passed,” I answer.

  “What does the law say?”

  “Basically, while the US is at war, the Constitution is suspended.”

  “We’ve been at war for a hundred years?” Kim is surprised.

  “Leave it to a lawyer to find a loophole,” Dad shrugs.

  “Kim and I need new IDs. We’re going downtown to make it happen. Then we’re going to pay the Inner-City Gang a social call.”

  Kim keeps punching the cinder block harder until it chips.

  “Cut that out. You trying to cave in the house?” Daniel frowns.

  Kim looks closely at the chipped wall. “I hit it as hard as I could, and it didn’t hurt. That fact will come in handy in a fight.” She sits down and looks at her knuckles. “I do know a place downtown, close to everything, upscale. All hotels downtown have video surveillance. The Inner-City Gang would know where I am in minutes.”

  I rock in my chair. “I’ll get you in uns
een.”

  “I don’t like the sound of that, but I can’t think of a better way.”

  Mom rides up and parks her bike next to the others and comes over to join us. We look like a family of road hogs. The orange tree shadow touches the mailbox, reminding me it’s a little after seven.

  Mom rocks in her chair. “Kim and I had a busy day. I showed her around, and she made a friend.”

  “Who?”

  Kim looks away and watches a pickup truck pass.

  Mom looks at her and smiles. “Maggie, your friend from grade school.”

  Maggie lives a mile down the road. She makes bread and pastries and sells them at our Farmers’ Market. Kim's type, curvaceous and a lesbian. And with my luck with women, they’ll naturally hit it off.

  Mom looks at me, gives me a sympathetic smile and then changes the subject. “What do you two have planned?”

  “Kim and I are going downtown tonight.”

  “We put the neighborhood on alert,” Daniel says. “Everyone is updating their plague gear. We've found a few sources of anti-virals, but we don’t know if they work against the new strain of the plague.”

  Daniel is part of the Ceres senior leadership. He’s up on everything. I stand up and pick up the case. “Thanks for getting this on such short notice.”

  Dad leans back in his chair. “Try not to get your draft-dodging dumbass killed.”

  Kim and I go to my room and change. We unzip our pouches and pull out the spider silk suits: one-piece bottom, socks, gloves, and a long sleeve turtleneck with a hood.

  Kim strips down to her panties and puts on the translucent spider-silk long underwear. “Maggie says you two are good friends.”

  “Yeah.” I put on my spider-silk long johns keeping my back to her, so she can’t see my face. “I know, you’re a lesbian, and so is Maggie, but I can’t help how I feel.”

  Kim nods and puts on the spider silk long-sleeve shirt. I do the same.

  She sits down, puts on the silk stockings and then her shoes. “Is that why you didn’t tell me about her?”

  I sit on the other side of the bed and put on my socks and running shoes and lace them tight. “I know, I'm a selfish bitch, I wanted you to myself.”

  Kim puts on the silk gloves and punches me in the shoulder hard enough to knock me off the bed. The spider-silk garment stiffens, and I land on the floor on my butt.

  Kim extends a hand and helps me up. “I never had a man love me before…it’s sort of sweet, but mostly annoying. I don’t know what to do with it.”

  I put on my silk gloves, “All I ask is for you to understand how I feel and give me time to work through this.”

  Kim smiles with half her face. “Well, I can do that, as long as you don’t get too bitchy and whiney.”

  We look at each other in the full-length mirror mounted on the bathroom door. The suits are translucent and match our skin tone. We look like hairless hermaphrodites.

  Putting our clothes back on, we head to the garage. Dad has our bags packed. A metal table is laid out with various supplies in neat rows. I fill my vest pockets with a medkit, a day’s rations, zip drive, ID, penlights, and a disposable phone. Kim fills up with ammo, breaks her Mac 10 down and hides it on her bike. I put the immersion helmet in a gym bag and strap it to the back.

  Once on our bikes, we head out the front gate. Two men at the post carrying rifles nod in our direction as we leave. This is the new normal. The neighborhood watch is fully activated to protect our homes. Once the virus is released and people get sick, Frisco will panic, the mutants will flee and look for a safe haven. I know the Colonel’s reputation. He won’t allow infected mutants inside the gates.

  With the sun behind us, we head into Frisco. A breeze from the ocean cools the evening air.

  At a north Frisco checkpoint, we show ID and man with an M-16 waves us through. We pass through the north gate and take the bypass to the bay bridge. Once we cross, we take the first exit.

  Heading downtown, we find a parking garage, get a ticket from a machine, park our bikes on the third level and plug them in. The hotel is across the street. Kim finds a spot next to a compact Ford and hides out.

  I put on my backpack and throw the bag with the immersion helmet over my shoulder. Finding the stairs to the first level, I wait at the streetlight. People crossing are wearing designer clothes. The hotel door opens automatically, and I step in. The reception desk is on the right.

  A Type 2 mutant is behind the counter, large eyes and elongated fingers. Her nametag says, Darla. “Yes sir, how can I help you?”

  ‘Sir’ is a greeting reserved for Purebloods. “Don’t call me ‘sir.’ My name is Hermes.”

  She smiles, and her posture relaxes. Darla takes my ID and scans it. “Are you paying with cash?”

  “Yes.” I give her enough money for two nights, and then I hand her a roll of silver quarters equal to a month’s pay. “This is for you.”

  She puts the roll of quarters in her pocket. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

  “Do you have a room that’s near the fire escape that faces the garage?”

  She hands me a key and smiles. “Is there anything else?”

  “I have a friend that doesn’t have an ID. She’ll be staying with me until we get things straightened out at the County Hall of Records.”

  She nods. I smile and head to the elevator, stepping inside when the doors open, and three kids join me, wet from the pool with towels around their necks.

  A boy of twelve eyes my gym bag with the round helmet inside. He pokes it. “What’s that?”

  His two friends look at me.

  “Drugs, condoms, porn magazines, and some firecrackers. Wanna have some fun?”

  The four of us chuckle, and I get off on my floor. One of the kids calls: “Save the firecrackers for us.” And laughter is cut off by the closing doors. Walking to the end of the hall, I open the door, putting my bag and backpack on the bed.

  The room is reserved for Purebloods: private bathroom, TV without a coin slot, king size bed and maid service. Looking like a Pureblood has its advantages, thanks to Darla for the upgrade.

  I walk out onto the balcony. To my left is the fire escape, a ladder surrounded by metal rings that run the length of the ten-story building. The sun sets, and the glow in the west begins to fade.

  The hotel sits mid-block; next door is a Super Store, the parking lot brightly illuminated. The light hits the hotel, crosses the street and cuts a shadow across the garage.

  I call Kim on the disposable phone: “Hello, Rachel, can you see me?”

  Below me, Kim moves into the light; her silhouette lit from the waist up.

  I put my phone away and step onto the ladder. To my left is the corner of the building. I extend my arm and reach out. My fingertips find the shadow. I look at Kim and let the shadows take me in. Reaching out, I think of her cookie dough smell. A crack opens in the void and I reform in the garage.

  “Over here.”

  Kim turns and walks towards me, her expression pale and eyes wide. “That’s so fucking spooky.”

  I stand against the wall, my body half in shadow and hold out my hand. “It won’t hurt you,” I try to reassure Kim.

  Kim takes my hand. Collapsing into the shadow, Kim and I shift deep into the void. Once there, we exist in a cold naked nothing. Then there’s a shift in the current, and I remember the hotel patio. We head back through the tunnels that lead to the third story hotel balcony. Sensing my room, I reform on the landing with Kim.

  She violently pulls her hand away. “Let go of me… freak!”

  I recoil at the word, stinging deep. After realizing Kim’s linked with Maggie, it’s a little more than I can take, the loss of our friendship.

  Crossing her arms tight across her belly, Kim stumbles to the bathroom. I follow behind her. She retches into the toilet while I hold her hair.

  She finishes, swats my hand away, wipes her mouth and heads to the sink.

  After Kim cleans up,
she pushes me out of the bathroom and closes the door. I hear her slide down the door and begin to cry. In silence, I sit on the other side of the door and listen to her quiet sobbing.

  After a while, I say, “I know that was hard. But my way has no cameras.”

  She continues to cry, and I feel the need to explain myself, hoping to make the situation better.

  “First time for me was when I was thirteen, standing under the tree in our front yard during a full moon. Next thing I know I’m in the top branches. They were too small to support me. Tree limbs smacked my face on the way down. I made two more trips up into the branches before I figured out what the hell was going on.”

  Kim blows her nose.

  “After a while, I figured out the shadows are alive. Or something inside them are alive.”

  “The shadows froze my thoughts, but I could still hear growls and whispers.”

  “They get louder the closer you get to a full moon.”

  “Who are they?” Kim’s voice is more normal but still shaken.

  I let out a sigh, thankful that she’s at least talking to me. “Cats, I think, with short hair that gather light like a fiber-optic cable. They sit on rocks under an orange sky.”

  “I don’t understand?” Kim says.

  “Think of it this way. In a dusty house, you can see the sun’s rays pass through a window. There is a plane that divides the light and the dark. The light side is our world; the dark side is their world. When we went into the shadows, we occupied the space in between. On full moons, when the veil is very thin, I see the creatures couched on black rocks, sunning themselves in an orange sky.”

  “Have you ever walked all the way over?”

  “Probably not a good idea. I’m pretty sure that orange sky is methane, so it’s about three hundred degrees below zero.”

  Kim is quiet for a while. “You just spookier, and spookier,” she says and laughs.

  I turn the doorknob and walk in. Kim’s brushing her teeth, spits and picks up a glass and swishes out her mouth. She spits. “I feel different. Like something’s missing.”

  “It’s called fat. Shadow walking burns calories. Come on, let’s order room service. You’ll feel better after eating.”