by D P Wright
“No one knows. We’ve tested it but,” she shrugged, “nothing unusual.” She was sitting on the floor now, legs pulled up to her chest and arms wrapped around her. She looked almost innocent, child-like. Kessler found his eyes drifting towards Stacey’s pendant. The child kneeling, praying, reminded him of the reason he came down this way in the first place. “Listen Stacey, have you heard any biz on a dead Christian priest that passed through here a couple of weeks ago? I checked and I heard he was sent here, no questions asked like, hushed up.” Stacey seemed to regain some focus and stared at Kessler. She stood up and leaned slightly precariously on a shelf. “I was wondering if you could give me some info, I heard the Vents brought him here from D2.”
“Shut up!” Stacey whispered abruptly, pushing her hand over Kessler’s mouth. “What do you think you’re doing?” She pushed the detective to the side and put her ear to the door.
“Hey, what’s the problem?” Kessler was used to Stacey’s paranoia, she was wired most of the time to some chem, powder or sim. All that uptime would make most brains go to mush but Stacey was tough, had been through a lot and survived some hard times. She could handle herself.
She knelt down, with her back leaning against the store room door and brought a painted finger to her lips signalling Kessler to be quiet. “Kes, I can’t talk about it.”
The detective helped her to her feet and drew her close, “It’s ok, you know me, this won’t go any further than these four walls.” He tried to speak in a calming tone but found it difficult as the chems fired through him. He took hold of her cold, clammy hands. He could not tell if they were shaking due to the chems or from what she was being asked, “What’s got you all worked up?”
She leaned forward and put her mouth just inches from his ear and whispered, “A few weeks ago the priest’s body arrived, surrounded by Councilmen.”
“Councilmen?” Kessler interrupted.
“Shhhh!!”
He continued, speaking quietly, “What do they want with some religious freak?” The Councilmen were employed directly by the Council. Officially they were part of the DPD but everyone knew they were corporate. They rarely made a show of themselves in public and when they did rumours had it that you did not live long enough to tell the tale. “You must be mistaken. Taking too many chems. Hallucinating.”
“No.” She closed her eyes and whispered.
“You need sleep.”
“I can’t sleep.”
“Yea, I know the feeling.” Kessler’s mind was stirring. What would a priest wasting away in Downtown have to do to get the attention of those evil goons? “Councilmen? Below the Rim? Why?”
“They closed the lab down and carried out tests. Made it very clear we were not to mention any of it…or else.”
“How did he die? Anything unusual?”
“Well that’s just it. We knew straight away how he’d died. He looked like all the rest. Eyes as black as tar, his body sucked dry of life. That’s how they look you know, after taking too much of it.”
“Hold on a minute, are you telling me the priest overdosed on sim? Now, I know nothing about religion but isn’t one of their beliefs to never get completely burned up on chem?”
“Such a shame. He was a nice old man, tried to help the Dregs but you know, what’s the point, most don’t want to be helped.”
“You knew him?”
“He came up this way once in a while, trying to help some kick their habit. There were a few who would hang around and talk to him.”
A door slammed from somewhere outside the store room. Stacey jumped up with a start, took one long drag from her nic stick and, just before opening the door and darting back into the corridor, took a brief moment to look up at the detective with pleading, bloodshot eyes, “Don’t tell anyone, Kes.”
Kessler waited a couple of seconds before following, thinking it might look slightly suspicious if anyone seen him emerge from a store room with the nurse.
Stepping out into the corridor with smoke wafting from the confines of the store room, he blinked his eyes repeatedly, attempting to adjust them to the intensity of the strip lighting that buzzed overhead. His mind raced. Why would Councilmen care about a priest? It was true religion was illegal but the Council rarely took any notice of the hundreds of cults which sprung up every week in Downtown. As long as they did not appear above the Rim they were usually happy to leave them to the local governors. He had also never heard of holy men getting smacked out on sim. The questions whirled and spun around in Kessler’s head. He gave himself a shake and took a hit of Ox.
Brushing his hand through his greasy hair, he let out a sigh. He definitely did not need any heat from the Council, his life was rough enough as it was without attracting that type of attention. A com cackled into life, “Dr Skreegal please report to theatre two. Immediately.” The nasal voice was immediately followed by screams and wails of some poor patient before the com abruptly cut off.
Putting on his optics, he quickened his pace and, walking with determination through the waiting room, made for the exit. Kessler had spent longer with Stacey than he had intended, time had escaped him. It usually did when he met her. He would have to travel fast or he would be late for his meeting with Bethany at the church.
ST. JOHN’S
The junker landed in a cloud of exhaust fumes on an old, worn cobbled square. It had been a long time since Kessler had been this far down and, looking outside the canopy into the darkness, he hoped it would be his last. Downtown 2 was the beginnings of the old parts of the city, gone were the carbonised iron highways and the towering plastisteel buildings now replaced by ancient crumbling stone and rotting brick. Even during daylight hours darkness had its impenetrable grip over the entire district. The odd neon sign and flash of a torch far in the distance penetrated through the murk but, other than that, light was in scarce supply. Kessler was thankful for the chems still running through his system, it would make this experience a lot easier. He reached over to the passenger side and from a compartment took his torch and a spare canister of Ox.
The canopy opened and Kessler jumped out onto the street and immediately was drenched in the deluge. He bent over to shield his mouth away from the filth and tried to take a breath. He gripped the sides of the vehicle as his body shuddered in protest until, after a couple of hits of Ox, he began to breathe easier. Raising the collar of his coat up and tying a cloth round his mouth and nose, he tried in vain to protect himself against the foul torrent.
Even through the augmented sight of his optics, Kessler struggled to see more than fifty feet ahead of him. Not far from where he had parked his junker, a neon sign flashed a rare hazy light across the far side of the square. From it, he could see the dark, shadowed forms of a couple of Dregs stumbling through the gloom. Everything was wet. This rain was a torrent of foul-smelling sludge and it coated everything. He could feel it under his boots. He could even taste it. The cramped, claustrophobic conditions of Downtown only served to make matters worse. Ancient buildings towered over small, crooked, crumbling streets, trapping the stench of decay at ground level. There was no breeze to rid the senses of this odour, only a stifling heat. Kessler let out another sigh and tried to shrug such thoughts from his mind, “Think of the credits, Kes,” he spoke aloud but his voice was drowned out by the crashing rain.
Soon he turned a corner and St John’s came into view. It was lit up by a number of piercing white beams and the red flashing lights of the DPD Interceptors. Kessler could make out the silhouettes of four Venters guarding the entrance to the church. He whistled to himself in amazement at the site of Vents this far down. What made this church so damn special?
Over the constant drone of the deluge, he could hear the brief flash of a raised voice and the mechanical tones of the Venters barking orders. It was only when the columns of light turned towards an angry voice that it revealed, out of the darkness, the figure of Bethany Turner. Now wearing a transparent rain protector over her dress, she was shouting and wav
ing her arms, furiously remonstrating with the police. He had to admit that she certainly had some guts to be giving it to the Vents like that. He sighed, if he did not do something soon she would end up dead before he could get anymore credits out of her. Closing his eyes and cursing to himself, he left the protection of the darkness and walked towards the Vent’s dancing beams of light.
As he approached, the Venter’s huge forms came into view. Their black plate armour glistened and their sodden white robes lay limp, stained brown in the rain. It was obvious that the situation was escalating quickly. A Venter had taken hold of Bethany’s neck while another was waving his assault rifle in the air, gesturing towards her. He adjusted the cloth around his mouth so that he could speak. “Damn the light,” Kessler mumbled, “what have you got yourself into?” His mind raced as he raised his voice to speak aloud, “Hey, there you are! I’ve been looking all over for you.” Raising his arms in mock relief, he smiled at the officers and at the furious Bethany. This close to the Venters he could now hear the mechanical breathing of their respirators hiss and wheeze. He turned towards all four who were all now staring at him. He squinted his eyes and lowered his head as beams of light from their shoulder mounted torches blinded him. “Thanks for finding her, she’s gone completely nuts, absolutely crazy.” He twirled his finger round his ear and pointed at Bethany, “Completely insane. It’s the breathing sickness, it’s gone to her head. I’m taking her straight to a skin lab for treatment.” The blaring light was momentarily averted from his eyes as the Venters turned towards her. The detective took the opportunity to peer over the Vent’s right shoulder at the church entrance. Nothing seemed to be out of place, if anything the crumbling stone tower and walls had a somewhat peaceful air about them. Two figures, beautifully carved out of stone so rarely seen in the city above, depicted two young children standing either side of a large metal gate. Their chubby faces creased in an innocent smile.
The officer holding Bethany looked around at each of his colleagues and after a few moments let go of her rain protector and shoved her towards Kessler, “Tell her to keep out of Council business.” He emphasised his point by powering up his rifle.
“Of course, I wouldn’t even dream of interfering with your very important work.” Kessler backed away, head lowered in mock respect.
“Wait, what do you think you’re doing I…” Bethany’s furious rant was quickly cut short by Kessler’s hand over her mouth. He lifted her over his shoulder and walked away from St John’s carrying her squirming form back to where his vehicle was parked.
Dropping the irate girl next to his junker, out of sight of any hostile eyes, Kessler spoke,“Quiet. Now I’m taking my hand away and you will be silent.” He held her roughly, one of his large hands firmly over her mouth and the other held tight around her waist. After a few seconds she stopped trying to force herself free and ceased her muffled cries. Now silent and still, she glowered at the detective, “Ok. Now if we are to get anything productive out of this investigation you can’t be going up to the Vents ranting and raging. It will get us nowhere and you, and me, will be thrown in Council cells or worse.” He released her from his grip.
She adjust her dishevelled clothes and spoke in a desperate, urgent tone, “Well what are your plans?”
“The DPD seem to have the building in complete lock down.” He wiped the rainwater from his brow. “I don’t need this trouble. The Venters are not people you want to mess with, they will not hesitate to end both of us. I have seen it done many times before.” Kessler looked down at her. She turned her back to him, put her head in her hands and began to sob.
The detective turned to leave but hesitated and, with a heavy sigh, leaned on the bonnet of his vehicle. Lowering his head and sheltering it under his hood, he lit a cigar and turned back to look at Bethany. Her cheap rain protector had not prevented her clothes becoming soaked and through the clear plastic Kessler could see them clinging to her body revealing a curvy, slender form. Her wet hair was pulled back revealing an attractive face and of course there were those green eyes. Kessler knew straight away that this girl was going to be nothing but trouble. She had a vulnerability that told him she would not last long in this city alone, but deep in those emerald eyes of hers, the way the light caught them to reveal a flash of reckless yellow, there hid a determination to see this through to whatever lay waiting at its end. Not many people would stand up to the Vents like she had done. Stupid and reckless, but she was brave, all qualities that got citizens killed fast. Sure, Kessler had known those types of women before, known them all too well, and it had never ended pretty.
“Please help me.” With wide eyes she pleaded.
Kessler knew this was coming. He opened the junker’s canopy as Bethany grabbed hold of him and tried feebly to pull him towards the direction of the church. He could not help but let out a laugh. “I admire your determination but look, whatever the DPD want with your place they’re going to get it.” He pulled his hood further down over his head and shrugged off the water that was freely flowing over him and nodded towards the faint glow of the Venter’s spotlights that could just about be seen from around the corner.
“I’ve hired you to do a job.” Her face was creased in desperation. “I can’t do this by myself.”
Kessler cleared his throat, “Look, nothing is worth getting tangled up with Council business. Get in the vehicle, I’ll drop you off anywhere you want. Somewhere dry.”
She reached into a bag that she had slung over her shoulder and threw a small pouch at Kessler who fumbled to catch it. “There you go Mr Kessler, an added incentive for your troubles.”
Looking at the small pouch, Kessler untied the string to reveal the familiar glint of chrome bars, “The church pays well it seems.” He looked at Bethany, her arms folded and returning his stare with a blank expression as she waited for an answer. Kessler toyed with the bag of creds, jostling them in his hand, listening to the sound of them clinking between his fingers. There was no denying that he needed the cash but one look towards the church and the Vents quickly convinced him. “Look lady, there is no way I’m going in that building. Like I said, those that mess with the Vents have a tendency to disappear, if you know what I mean, especially this far down.” He stepped closer to her and took a long draw on his cigar, eventually exhaling the smoke, “They can do what they like down here, no one cares.” He shook his head, exasperated at her persistence.
Kessler turned to get into his vehicle and Bethany again tried to pull him back, shouting, “You’re afraid, aren’t you?”
He closed his eyes and half turned his head away from her, “No. I’m surviving.”
“Wait,” she pleaded, “remember, I grew up here. This church is all I’ve ever known. I know every single nook and cranny. If we could just make it over the wall, I know of a way in and there is no way the police will have found it. As a child I used to love exploring every inch of the old building and would hide for hours trying to avoid the many chores my uncle made me do every day. There is no way the police would know about it. No way.”
“Listen, I have enough headaches in my life as it is and that doesn’t include the pounding one you’re giving me right now.” The sim he had taken earlier was beginning to wear off. He rubbed his brow and winced at the thought of the little sleep he had the previous night. He knew, with disgust at himself, what was in store for him once the chems left his system.
“Mr Kessler, please. The night my uncle’s life was taken everything I’d ever known disappeared. I’m all alone in this world and only have the next to look forward to. The only thing left for me in this life is justice.” She drew close to him, both of her delicate gloved hands holding tightly onto the lapels of his coat, her bottom lip trembling as she tried to desperately hold back her fear.
He stood looking at the young girl. The city had a tendency to destroy any good in its citizens sooner or later and, if they lived long enough, replace it with the hate, anger and the fear needed to survive. He did not know
what it was about this particular sob story, there were millions of sob stories in Dis, many more tragic than this, but the thought of this city getting its claws into this trembling, innocent kid did not sit right with him. Perhaps it was her eyes, shimmering green pools all alone in this world, maybe her jet black hair that fell across her face when she shook her head or perhaps the old detective was just tired of being miserable, but whatever the reason, he felt sorry for her. So here it was, Kessler thought ruefully, more bad decisions. “For the light’s sake! Ok. I could do with the cred and anything to get out of this damn rain.”
Bethany led him around the church to a gap in the now disintegrating perimeter wall. The Vents were easily avoidable, their powerful torches giving them plenty of warning as to their presence. Most of them seemed to be hanging around the main entrance, completely focused on looking menacing to every Dreg who happened to stumble near them and completely oblivious to anything else.
Peering through a hole in the crumbling wall, Kessler could make out the rubble which lay strewn throughout the church grounds. Bethany spoke in a low whisper, “The gravestones of people long dead. They have been here for centuries, you can even still read words on some of them, messages to people lost in time. I didn’t have much company growing up here, Uncle didn’t like me mixing with people within the parish, always telling me that he knew their sins and didn’t want me part of them. Many children have imaginary friends, Mr Kessler, mine just happen to come from the very real people that are buried here.” Bethany smiled at the memory.
He never understood the old ways of burying the dead in the ground. Solid ground, that of the ancient world, was so rare on Dis. Why waste the space on the dead? Looking out into what was left of the church grounds Kessler could see that the incessant rain had washed away the old earth long ago revealing its grisly contents. In amongst the piles of stone, skeletal features gawked back at them. The dull, low light of Downtown half hiding the horrors giving the skulls and bones an even more sinister quality.