by wade coleman
“What is she?” I whisper in Kim's ear.
Kim whispers back, “Telepath, and probably an empath. They read emotions.”
The girl leaves the main street and navigates us through the maze of cargo containers. We end up in an alley that dead-ends into the outer wall. Kim and I wait by a cargo container on the ground level with a door cut into the side. Near the entrance, the air reeks of stale beer and urine.
“Give it to me!” a voice commands, and I hear the girl let out a yelp. Kim walks inside, and I follow. A man with pale skin and a gut is sitting in a kitchen chair, grabbing the girl by the neck as he takes her dime. I step in front of Kim, knowing what she’s about to do.
The man stands up and faces me, in the late sixties, thinning hair, with skin that hangs loosely on his face. The smell of stale beer and urine surrounds him like an aura. “Get out of my house!” he says and points to the door.
“Do you want more money?” I ask.
“What you want?” he puts down his arm.
“A place to change and hang out until sunset.”
I hand him a silver quarter and his eyes light up. He points to a screen of bamboo and Kim, and I head behind the drape.
We strip, remove our spider-silk undergarments from the bottoms of our shoes that Daniel packed to avoid being detected.
I slip on my T-shirt, “I feel so naked without my armor vest.”
Kim pulls her hair out from her shirt, “Yeah, I know what you mean.”
After assembling a plastic pistol the size of a Berretta, Kim slides in a ten-round clip of plastic bullets used to avoid metal detectors. “Enough with the girl talk, I’m going to kill him.”
I stand next to her. “I can’t let you do that.”
She slides the action on her pistol. “I can’t let her live like this.”
I know Kim’s mind is made up. She’s going to murder him. Kim’s told me a little bit more about her father, and this man fits the general description – mean and ugly.
I put my hands on her shoulders. “Let me take care of this one. There’re other ways to solve problems which don't leave a trail of dead bodies.”
I push the bamboo curtain aside and walk up to the man sitting in the kitchen area. “How much for your girl?”
He stands up looking confused. “What did you say?”
I stand opposite him, push my gut out, and match his tone of voice. I do enjoy acting, being someone else for a while. By matching his mannerisms, I create a rapport with him, increasing my chances he’ll agree with me.
“My wife, she can’t have children, and she wants yours.”
The man yells, “Vike!” The little girl peeks her head out from behind Kim.
I point. “See, the two have bonded.”
He scratches the stubble on his chin and looks at me. “For ten silver, you can have her.” I get five silver out of my vest.” Half now, the other half when we leave with Vike in the morning.”
He takes the money and ignores us, clanking the coins when he counts it. Just like that, Vike is a distant memory. Amazing what silver will do to some people. Kim and I walk outside with Vike in tow.
“What did you just do?” Kim asks.
“You said you couldn’t let her live like this, so now we take her home and figure it out. Maggie wants children but can’t have any of her own. This will give her something to do.”
“Yeah, I see what you mean. Maggie can be so…”
“Maternal.”
Kim lets out a breath. “Yeah…”
“Trust me; you want Maggie to channel that motherly energy into someone else.”
Vike stands next to Kim, as close as she can without touching. She’s dressed in straggly clothes with skinny legs which makes me think this is what it must have been like for Kim.
I look at Kim. “I’m sorry I couldn’t have got to you sooner.”
“You better not be crying,” Kim’s says with a tone that’s almost affectionate.
Vike takes Kim’s hand. “Don’t worry, Casper’s a friendly ghost.” And then she starts humming the tune to the cartoon.
While we sit outside the storage container and wait for the sun to set, I think about my last two transactions. An ounce of gold is equal to a thousand silver. Which is about as much as I make as a mechanic in a year. Each bike is equal to a year's hard work. I bought Vike for ten silver, which I make in less than a week. Human life is cheap in Sludge City.
I look over at Kim and Vike. They sit in silence. By Kim’s distant expression, I know she’s using her abilities.
The shadows get longer, and the lights come on. Since some mutants have sensitive eyes, only red LED’s are allowed at night.
Sitting next to Vike, I reach into my vest and pull out my satellite phone. “Let me show you how to use this.” After turning on the phone, I put Vike’s thumb on the screen, and then write a short program.
I hand the phone to Vike, “If we’re not back by dawn, flip open the phone and put your thumb on the screen. Someone will come for you.”
Vike clutches the phone. “I know you’ll be back. You’re the Jack of Shadows.”
The hair stands up on the back of my neck, and I look at Kim.
Kim shrugs her shoulders, “I didn’t say or think anything.”
I kiss the top of Vike’s dirty forehead. “Don’t show the phone to anyone and say goodbye to your friends. We’ll be back before sunrise.”
“Natasha, make my face look North African.” We wait a few minutes until the alterations are complete, then Kim and I make our way through some narrow alleyways. Finding the main street, we head to the bazaar where the merchant’s homes are used as storefronts.
I buy a headscarf and sunglasses and then give them to Kim. “Your makeup is fading, and your stripes are beginning to show.”
Looking at herself in a mirror, Kim adjusts her new accessories. We approach a man in his late fifties with long grey hair selling lighters made from recycled grenades.
“How much?”
“Five silver.”
I pay a gold coin the size of a dime. “I’m looking for a plastic bottle with a red lid.”
He points to the north. “That way is a blue metal building where they store dry goods. Now get the hell out of here.”
Kim and I move down the street. She takes hold of my hand and pulls me into a shop called Kathy’s Closet.
“He was lying. The virus shipped out last night.” Kim puts her hand on my shoulder and whispers in my ear: “We’re being followed.” She holds up a yellow T-shirt and looks at herself in a full-length mirror. “See those two men in the reflection? They’re following us.”
Two mutants in the mirror are looking our way, their arms longer than normal. Kim buys the shirt and two head scarfs. We get the hell out of there, heading to a residential section where people are turning in for the night.
The alley side of the buildings is narrow. The bamboo scaffolding leaves room to dump sewage into a concrete channel below. Ducking under the supports, red lights cast a web of dark shadows. Using my ability, I pull the darkness around us, and we disappear in an instant.
The two mutants walk past, and we emerge from the shadows. I strike one in the kidney, using my hand as a blade. My glove goes rigid and sinks deep into soft tissue. He exhales sharply and crumples.
Kim jumps on her target’s back, and he falls forward, hitting the ground. Kim grabs his hair, slams his head into the concrete a few times, then sits him up. I help mine up, and the two mutants sit with their backs together. I notice someone looking down from the fourth floor, eyes meeting mine, then quickly withdraw.
“Who do you work for?”
I take it by their silence they’re refusing to talk.
“The Frogman,” Kim replies.
I inch closer to the man’s face. “Where does he live?”
A gob of spit hits my face. Kim kicks him in the back of his head. His neck snaps and hangs at an odd angle. His eyes blink several times, and he pulls a few rag
ged breaths before he dies.
“Jesus! At least give me time for a few more questions.”
“No time,” Kim says and looks at the living mutant. “Either answer the questions or die. Where can I find the Frogman?”
“The old sewage treatment plant,” he says, looking at his partner with wide eyes. At the next moment, Kim kicks him in the throat. He falls over, gasping and suffocating from a collapsed airway. She grabs my arm, pulling me away.
“Kim…I don’t understand how you can just do that, and…”
“Not feeling anything?” Kim replies in an even tone. “Survival has nothing to do with feelings.” Kim leads as we weave down rows of cargo containers. “The only people who have seen our faces are those two corpses and the guy selling grenade lighters. And since those mutants are dead, they can’t tell the Frogman that we’re after him. That gives us an edge. So, you see, killing does solve problems.”
But I can’t argue with her brutal logic, so we duck in a gap between two containers.
“Natasha, lighten my skin and narrow my cheekbones.”
While we’re waiting for my face to change, I ask Kim, “Who is the Frogman?”
She looks out over the balcony. “From what I could tell from the minds of the two mutants, he has a triangle shaped head, built like a tank, and not very tall. He lives in the old sewer treatment plant with his family. He’s the ‘local murder-for-hire.’”
“Gee, what a swell guy. I have a plan that won’t get anyone killed.”
“You wanna spare a thug, a murderer?”
The change is complete, and I rub my face. The alterations make my skin itch and tingle for a few minutes. “My way is much more fun and more likely to get good information.” I lean into her. “Come on, let’s go out and kill an hour or so in the entertainment district before we go hunting. You know…killing time, not people.”
“You take the fun out of everything. What about my disguise?”
“The only guy living who saw your face is probably in hiding. Use the spray to darken your skin and put on a different color headscarf.”
Kim puts on a headscarf. “I know what you’re up to…you wanna go check out the hookers. Get a little before the job?”
I smile, that how Kim and I met. I take Kim by the hand and pull her towards the entertainment district. “This will be our Paris.”
Kim pulls her hand back and we walk together.
“That’s twice you said that,” Kim says. “What does it mean?”
“What the movie, Casablanca.”
The crowd gets denser. The entertainment district is metal buildings with high roofs that line the street. People are getting dinner and drinking chai. A man on the street corner tells us about the topless Amazon women inside.
I buy us a chai made of seaweed and watch as a flexible man gets in a small box. After finishing our drinks, a boy begs for our cups and puts them in a half-filled plastic bag. Leaving the district, we find our way to the ruins of the treatment plant.
The sewage plant was constructed before the Bio Wars, made of concrete block walls with a flat roof, which is missing in a few places. The brick building used to be offices; now it’s home to a few dozen mutants.
Prowling in the shadows, we circle the compound.
“I found the Frogman,” Kim says. “See that window with the light on?”
“The one with the TV blaring? Well, that wasn’t too difficult.”
“Yes, I can read him. It’s easier to hear his thoughts.”
“What?”
“My telepathic abilities are different ever since you teleported me from the parking garage to the hotel room. I feel strange like I was put back together differently.”
“Yeah, the first dozen times I shifted, I never knew what I was going to leave behind. Usually, it was something that was holding me back.”
Kim looks away and shakes her head. “Shit...you’re starting to make sense. That can’t be a good sign.” She points to the room with the TV on. “He knows people asked about the virus and now two of his men are dead. He’s not upset - just watching TV.”
We wait in the shadows until the TV goes off half an hour later. Kim was right. Since he thinks we’re hunting for the virus, he’s not on the lookout. We wait another hour, just to be safe, and the moon hangs low. As it sets, the shadows grow longer. I put my hand on the edge of one, and the chill pulls me in, following the darkness to a stovepipe on the roof. Walking quietly, I jump down from the two-story roof where there’s no window. The spider-silk armor cushions my fall. Stopping at the Frogman’s window, I remove the bug screen.
It’s a warm night. The Frogman is sleeping on a mattress with no sheets. A clock lights the room with a red glow, his scales reflecting a dark light.
After removing the pin from the fake grenade I bought from the informant, I place it on the Frogman’s crotch. With my other hand, I put Kim’s Beretta under his chin.
His blinks several times, notices me, then opens his eyes wide.
I smile. “Hi there. My name is Reaper, as the Blue Oyster Cult song. Let me fill you in...you feel that?” I roll the grenade on top of his balls. “Feel those nubs? That’s how you know it’s an MK-two grenade. Under other circumstances, you might find this pleasurable and just to let you know; you’re not my type.”
I poke the pistol deeper into his neck. “This is a disposable plastic pistol. Now that you’re all caught up let me get to the point. You answer my questions, and I’ll put the pin back in the grenade. Capiche, my froggy friend?”
“You will never leave this place alive…I will kill you. I will find your family and kill them, too,” his voice is barely able to contain his rage.
“Where is the virus?”
“Fuck you.”
“Who’s your contact?”
“I will feed you to the pigs.”
“Where can we find your contact?”
His voice drips with venom, “I’ll burn your women alive and make you watch.”
Looking over at Kim, she nods her head and moves away. Just asking a question automatically makes people think of the answer, so now Kim knows everything. We make a great team.
Giving her time to return to our hiding place, the gap between two shipping containers, I make small-talk with the Frogman. “Have you considered going into therapy for your anger issues?”
His eyes glow with rage. “I will personally hang you upside down and flay you alive.”
“Your threats are hollow, like your head. I let go of the fake grenade and dive out the window. Slipping into the shadows, I find Kim and reform next to her.
Kim and I hurry down the street, red LEDs illuminating our way.
Footsteps approach. We move into the shadows, and I wrap them around us again. Several men turn the corner holding batons and search the area.
“Kim, all these red lights cast a web of shadows that connects every street. I can be back at Vike’s place in less than a second, but if you’re too much of a pussy, then we’ll have to fight our way out instead.”
She grabs my hand, squeezing it tight. “Fuck you.”
“That seems to be your answer to everything.”
We vanish into the web, exploring the shadows, and I reform with Kim near Vike’s home.
Vike is standing next to a door. Kim leans against a cargo container and dry heaves in the ally.
“You didn’t throw up this time. In another… ten or so shadow walks, and you’ll be acclimated.”
Leaning her head on the side of the wall, Kim flips me off.
I move towards Vike and look down at her large violet eyes. “It’s less than an hour to daybreak. Where’s your father?”
She hands me back the phone and points inside. Walking in, the stench is overwhelming. The drunk is passed out behind the bamboo screen on a recently soiled mattress. A plastic bottle of imitation tequila lays on its side.
Vike walks up to me. “Normally, I clean him up in the morning. He’s so drunk; he doesn’t even know I
do it. I guess he’s in for a surprise.”
I toss the five silver on his chest and walk away. Kim, Vike and I stand in the doorway, staying out of sight of the alley and facing out for the fresh air.
Kim pulls out her gun. “I should cap his ass right now.”
“Killing him would be a mercy,” I put my hand on the Vike’s shoulder. “The only thing keeping your father alive is you, Vike. Some men die on the inside before they die on the outside.”
“I’m going to live on a farm?” Vike asks, raising her eyebrows, looking excited.
I smile, “Farm community, but between us and our home is some rough territory. You will take turns riding-”
“I want to ride with Kim,” Vike interrupts.
“Okay.” We stand there, the three of us watching the light rise at what I’m sure will be a long day ahead.
* * *
While we wait, Natasha changes my face back to the one I had when I arrived yesterday. We wait for the city to come to life and join the crowd. I look at Kim and Vike’s elongated skulls. “They’re looking for a couple, so let’s throw them off and act like we’re a family.”
Vike takes Kim’s hand, and we move towards the main gate, stopping to pick up our bikes.
On the desk, next to his feet, is a plaque with the name “Roan.” The dwarf gets up when we enter. His eyes go to Vike and then to me. “My good and dear friend,” he shakes my hand warmly. He leads us to a small garage made out of salvaged corrugated metal with no roof. Inside are two bikes. “As you can see, they’re ready to go.”
“My niece is coming with us. Do you have a helmet and riding gear?”
He smiles. “I see you care deeply about the welfare of your niece. So for you, only the best.” He walks up to me and sniffs loudly. “I think three gold coins the size of a dime should cover it?”
I reach into my vest. “You must have x-ray vision,” I say and hand the dwarf the last of my gold pieces. He leaves and returns a half hour later with shoes, helmet, and a riding jacket that fits Vike’s malnourished frame. Kim helps Vike put on her first pair of shoes and socks.
The three of us walk the bikes through a small lot that leads to the bridge. At the gate are four men, three with batons. The fourth man is the gray-haired store owner who sold me the grenade and the bad information.