Stories From the Shadowlands

by Sarah Fine

  Carlos’s eyes narrowed. “When was the last time you visited the Quiet Chamber?”

  Seventeen days, four hours, three minutes, and nineteen seconds ago. “Uh, I spent a little time in there yesterday morning, I think? Just to clear my head.”

  The corners of the Captain’s mouth tightened. “You didn’t leave your name on the log.”

  Jim’s heart was beating so hard that he was almost certain Carlos would be able to hear it. The last time he’d been in the Quiet Chamber hadn’t been by choice. None of the times he’d been in there had been by choice. He’d always been tossed in, naked and raw and shivering, and left to stare at the white, padded walls which seemed to be made of light itself, to drown in absolute silence, with no noise or entertainment to distract him from the thoughts in his head or the ravenous hunger eating him from the inside out. It was the ultimate torture. Jim swallowed back the bile that had risen in his throat. “I must have forgotten, sir,” he said hoarsely. “I will make sure to sign the log the next time I spend time in there.”

  Carlos nodded. “Good. Make it tomorrow. After your patrol. That’s an order.”

  No no no no no no NO NO NO—“Yes, sir.”

  Carlos patted his shoulder. “You’re making progress, Jim. Keep it up.” He walked past Jim, headed for his quarters.

  Jim sagged, the tension draining from him as quickly as it had built. He watched the Captain turn a corner, then he headed in the opposite direction, trying to ignore the grumbling in his belly. He’d fill it soon enough.

  He paced the long stone hallways free from decorations of any kind. So many times, he’d been tempted to sneak out here and hang some pictures, paint some color on these walls. Most of the other Guards didn’t seem to mind, but it drove Jim crazy. There was nothing to look at here. It was why, despite the blinding light, he preferred it out in the city, where there was no end to the distractions he could find.

  He finally reached the spot where the hallway dead-ended in a steel door. Next to the wall sat a notebook on a low wooden bench, with a nub of a pencil lying next to it. Jim put his ear to the door. Silence. He picked up the log and read it, then smiled. The Chamber’s current occupant would be in there for another hour at least.

  He had just scooped up the pencil and begun to scrawl his name when the door to the Chamber flew open.

  A grin split the face of the man in front of him, who looked utterly refreshed and relaxed as he stepped from the padded silence of Quiet Chamber. His teeth and the whites of his eyes were stark in contrast to his skin, which was the darkest brown Jim had ever seen on any human.

  “Ah, young brother!” said Bomani. “I was coming to find you for our patrol.”

  His smile faded as he saw the notebook in Jim’s hands. “What are you doing?”

  Jim scribbled his name off the log. “Ah, I was going to take some time in the Chamber. I didn’t see that you were in there.”

  Bomani’s eyes traveled from his own name in the notebook, written in big block letters, to Jim’s face. “Of course not. Easy to get confused.” He took the notebook from Jim’s hands and set it back on the bench. “Come with me to have dinner before we patrol. It’s not good to walk the streets hungry.” His hand, knuckles huge and thickly creased, closed over Jim’s shoulder. “It is temptation you don’t need.”

  Jim shrugged him off. “Sure. I could eat.”

  But as he followed Bomani down the hall to the cafeteria, he knew it wouldn’t do any good. If there was a bottom to his appetite, Jim surely hadn’t found it yet. Still, a trip through the food line was always valuable.

  Decent food was currency in this city, and Jim had learned that it could buy him whatever he wanted. He smiled as the smell of brown bread and grilled meat reached him, already feeling the needle in his skin, the liquor on his tongue, the hands on his body.

  Tonight would be the night. After his patrol, he would kill this hunger for good.

  Chapter Two

  Jim walked with Bomani down the sidewalk, doing his best to match his pace to the slow, measured steps of the older man. Bomani never hurried. Jim hated to patrol with him and nearly always tried to switch, because he inevitably ended up feeling like he was going to explode, like his impatience was finally going to detonate and vaporize him on the spot.

  Jim watched Bomani out of the corner of his eye, half-resentful, half-awed. The whispers had started weeks ago, soon after Bomani emptied out his room and gave away all of his possessions. Jim had seen it for himself; the Guard’s room now only contained a bed, a chest, and a single wooden chair. Bomani’s room didn’t look much different from the Quiet Chamber, so he didn’t know why the guy spent at least an hour in there every day. The other Guards said it meant that Bomani would be released into the Countryside soon.

  “How long have you been here?” Jim asked.

  Bomani’s eyes scanned slowly from alley to sidewalk to street. The Guards’ sole purpose was the keep the peace, to keep the residents of the Blinding City from hurting each other too badly in their quests to fulfill their wildest dreams, in their race to quench the mad thirst, the gnawing hunger. One by one, they came through the city Gates, ready to pick up where their lives had left off, their eyes shining with desire and greed and want and need, their hands grasping, their mouths watering. Guarding them was no easy job, because other people were only objects of potential pleasure or sources of potential wealth.

  “I have been here for too long, I think,” Bomani said with a melancholy smile. “My skull is very thick.”

  “Years?”

  “Almost a century, young brother. Like I said, too long.”

  “But you’ll get out soon. That’s what everyone’s saying.”

  Bomani shook his head and rubbed his hand over the thick mat of tightly curled hair on his scalp. “I would never presume. That will be the Judge’s decision.”

  Jim couldn’t control the shudder that shook his body. If he never saw that woman again, it would be too soon. Of course, apparently that was the only way out of this place, so at some point, he’d have to.

  They paused to wait for a light to change. Bomani shaded his eyes and squinted across the intersection, and Jim did the same. The chorus of honking horns and blaring billboards, one spewing something about purified cocaine being available at the best prices down on Krane Street, was nearly deafening. “Maybe we should check out the new shop,” Jim said, his nose already tingling.

  Bomani’s friendly gaze sharpened with suspicion. “Perhaps. There’s been a lot of activity on Krane in the last week. Let’s go.”

  Jim wiped his brow as they walked across the street. His eyes got snagged on the legs of a willowy girl leaning against the wall of a dance hall. As his gaze skimmed up her body and latched onto her lips, the reddest lips he’d ever seen, his stomach clenched and his body roared to life. She looked up like she felt his eyes on her. Her long black hair shone under the glare of the lights, and her face… perfection. She looked about his age, and her skin was smooth and creamy and healthy. His fingers twitched, desperate to touch her, to close the distance between them completely. Her gaze slid over him, and a lazy smile played on her lips.

  Jim’s feet were in motion before he realized what was happening.

  But he’d only taken two steps when the handle of Bomani’s baton hooked over his shoulder. “That’s not what we’re here for.”

  Jim grimaced at the hard edge in the other Guard’s usually mellow voice. “I thought I saw—”

  “I’m trying to be kind, Jim, but if you insist on abandoning your duty, I will have no choice but to report your conduct to the Captain. He needs to know you are struggling.”

  A sick swell of anger rose in Jim’s chest. “He doesn’t need to know anything. Like I said, I thought I saw some suspicious activity.” He jerked away from Bomani’s baton. The last thing he needed was an overseer.

  Bomani caught up with him, eying the young woman who had captured Jim’s attention. She gave the older Guard the same seductiv
e smile she’d given Jim, but it didn’t have the same effect. He frowned. “She is doing nothing but waiting for a man to use.”

  Yeah, and I’d gladly be the guy. “Oh. I thought maybe she was armed.”

  Laughter burst from Bomani’s throat, and he slapped Jim on the back. “That’s a good one. Where would she hide it?”

  Damn good question. Jim was saved from having to answer by a piercing scream coming from the alley next to the dancehall. He and Bomani broke into a sprint, shoving past the girl, who looked over her shoulder and screeched something in a language Jim didn’t understand.

  Bomani had been wrong. She wasn’t looking for fun. She was probably looking for them. Guards. She was the lookout for whoever was hiding in the alley.

  The alley was narrow enough for them to have to jog single file until it opened up several feet down, where the space was deep enough to cultivate the shadows that died quick deaths everywhere else in the Blinding City.

  It wasn’t dark enough for them to miss the three struggling figures against the chainlink fence at the end of the alley, though. One man, holding a girl down as she fought frantically. Another, trying to wrestle her legs apart.

  “Stop,” Jim shouted, putting on the speed. “By order of the Guard!”

  One of the men leaped up, pulling a long knife from his coat and slashing it through the air. He wasn’t going to give up his prize easily. The other guy punched the girl and tossed her aside, then clamored to his feet as well. He, at least, didn’t have a knife.

  Jim ripped his baton from his belt. Behind him, Bomani’s heavy steps told him his partner was close.

  “I’ll take the one on the left,” Bomani shouted, then streaked past Jim toward the guy with the knife. A moment later, Jim was locked in combat as well.

  It turned out the guy without the knife didn’t need one. He blocked Jim’s descending baton with the flat of his hand, then drove his other fist into Jim’s stomach. Jim doubled over but used his momentum, plowing into his opponent and wrapping his arms around the guy’s waist as they crashed into the chainlink fence. With a ringing clatter, Jim’s baton fell to the ground. He pushed away and delivered a sweeping kick that caught the guy in the side of the face, snapping his head to the side with a satisfying crunch.

  The rush was incredible. Jim stepped back, seeking his rhythm as the guy staggered to his feet, ready for more. Yes. Keeping his feet moving, Jim bobbed back and forth, and when the guy lunged for him, Jim flew back on his hands and nailed the guy in the chest with his boots before bouncing back onto his feet. The wheezing rush of breath from the guy’s lungs only made Jim hungrier. Before the man was able to stand up straight, Jim bent sharply at the waist and delivered another spinning kick, twisting in the air to land on his hands. His opponent hit the cement, spitting blood.

  Jim hopped to his feet, his rhythm solid now, his feet moving, ready.

  But the guy didn’t get up.

  “Come on,” Jim muttered.

  The guy didn’t move.

  “Get up!” he shouted.

  “Young brother.”

  “Up!” Jim roared. It couldn’t be over so quickly. He had so much more rage to share, so much more power and tension to get rid of. It couldn’t end so soon.

  “Jim!” Bomani’s voice lashed right through his trance.

  Jim pivoted around, breathing hard. Bomani stood next to the other guy, who was unconscious on the ground. “What?”

  “It is time for you to stop. See to the girl while I secure these men.”

  Bomani held out his hand and Jim gritted his teeth. But Bomani’s threat to tell Carlos about him echoed in his head, so he snatched the cuffs from his belt and handed them to his partner, who obviously didn’t trust him not to kill the prisoner.

  Which, actually, was probably wise.

  Aching with unspent energy, Jim stalked over to the girl, who was sitting up, clutching her side. He squatted next to her. “Hey. You all right?”

  “You speak English,” she said, her voice raspy with tears.

  “Yeah. Do you?”

  Her lips quirked up. “Obviously.” She winced and clutched at her ribs, then raised her head. Damn. Another pretty one. Her blond hair was pin straight around her delicate face. Her smoky eyes searched his. “Are you a cop?”

  “A cop… no. I’m a Guard.”

  She snorted. “Same thing. Help me up?”

  Jim put his arm around her and lifted her to her feet, enjoying the feel of her curves against his body. But he let her go quickly; she’d just been through something and he didn’t want to remind her of it. “What happened here?”

  She gave him a wry look. “I took something from them and forgot to pay.”

  “And they caught up with you.”

  She nodded. “I didn’t like their chosen form of payment.”

  He couldn’t blame her. “You have a safe place to go?”

  Her fingers fluttered to the side of her face, where an angry red mark stood out against her pale skin. “Yeah. I have an apartment nearby.”

  Jim had just opened his mouth to ask her exactly where when Bomani cleared his throat. “I am ready to transport these two.”

  Jim rolled his eyes before turning around. “Excellent. Good going.” He hooked his thumb over his shoulder at the girl. “I was going to make sure she—”

  Bomani shook his head. “She seems fine to me. And I need your help escorting them.” He inclined his head at the two bleeding, sullen-looking men sitting with their backs up against the wall, their hands cuffed behind them.

  Jim drew a deep breath through his nose, wishing some of this tension in his muscles would evaporate before he did something stupid. Like punch his Guard partner. “Fine. Let’s go.”

  Without a backward glance, Jim hoisted up one of the men and shoved him along the alleyway, following Bomani and his prisoner back out into the painfully bright city streets. The pretty lookout girl was long gone, which was smart of her, because they’d have to arrest her, too, for aiding and abetting these two losers, who they’d now have to escort all the way back to the Station for tagging and processing.

  Jim sighed. For a minute, he’d thought maybe he’d be able to sneak off and take a little break with the blond girl. Now there was no chance of that.

  Or maybe there was. As he stepped from the alley, slender fingers slid along his waist and tucked something into his back pocket. “Later, cop.” Her warm breath in his ear sent fire through his veins.

  “Absolutely,” he breathed, and then focused on getting through the next few hours as the hunger unfurled in his belly, strong as ever.

  Chapter Three

  Jim sat on his bed, holding tightly to the mattress, the muscles of his arms trembling. He shouldn’t go. He knew he shouldn’t go. One look from the Captain told him he was on thin ice. Bomani had probably tattled on him as soon as they’d ended their patrol. If Jim disappeared from the Station and stayed out late again, someone would notice. Then he’d be tossed in the Quiet Chamber for sure, left to bang against the brittle walls of his own skull, left to smash himself to bits in the silence.

  He shouldn’t go.

  His stomach growled. His eyes darted over to the crumpled paper on his bedside table. Her name was Rebecca, or at least, that was what she’d written down. And she lived nearby. Only a few blocks away. He could go and be back long before breakfast. No one would know.

  He stood up, his thigh muscles cramping with the need to move. All around him sat his treasures, the things he’d dragged back here since arriving in the Blinding City, the things he’d craved, the things that comforted. Objects, lots of them. Jewels and jars and books and sculptures. A few things he couldn’t even identify. He’d only known that he wanted them. Wanted them so badly that he was willing to pay. A lot. Everything. When he’d first gotten to the city, he hadn’t had any currency. He hadn’t figured out that real food was worth more than anything else. So he’d sold his body a few times, had gutted his way through it, thinking of the
se treasures, of all the things he could own and collect.

  He paused as he walked by some of his possessions, blinking in the light. Sometimes his vision didn’t work quite right. Sometimes, all his beautiful things glimmered and faded, turning to junk before his eyes. But every time, if he clamped his eyes shut and wished the ugliness away, it was gone when he opened his eyes. This time was no different. He ran his fingers over his hoard. Before he’d come here, he’d never owned anything. He’d never had the chance to have anything for himself. And here, he could pretty much have anything he wanted, as long as he paid for it. Or became a cleverer thief. He’d nearly been caught several times. If the other Guards knew—especially Bomani—Jim would be punished severely. Thou shalt not kill, thou shalt not steal, thou shalt not covet... too many rules, as far as he was concerned.

  His fists clenched. Too many rules. Without stopping to second guess himself again, he grabbed the paper from the table, shoved it in his pocket, and headed for the door. Instead of the main exit, though, he walked toward the kitchens. It was late enough that they would be empty, the workers having disappeared for the night. Jim crept along the brightly lit hall, trying to be quiet but also trying to look like he was headed somewhere official.

  He edged the door to the cafeteria open and slipped inside, then skirted around the jumble of tables and hopped over the buffet that separated the kitchen from the eating space. He landed silently, then crawled along, plucking a loaf of bread from a cabinet, then opening the ice box and grabbing a package of meat. He tucked both into a canvas sack and then scooted through the kitchen, all the way to the back entrance. In less than a second, he was breathing the humid air of the alley behind the Station. Easy.

  Jim slung the bag over his shoulder and strode along the alleyway, stopping when he got to the street to get his bearings. Rebecca’s apartment was in one of the endlessly tall mirrored high-rises that jutted up every few buildings, nestled closely against the caves of neon and echoing sound, the places people could lose themselves in whatever escape they pleased. Whatever poison they craved. He knew exactly how that felt. Like rocketing out of the ground and kissing heaven before falling back to earth and shattering on the jagged rocks of the real.