by D P Wright
He raised himself up, leaning on his one good arm, as the flames closed in around them. A sound, like a gush of wind, drew his attention back to the many barrels of chemicals stacked up against the far wall. The air seemed to be sucked from his lungs and he struggled for breath as a blanket of liquid fire reached out to cover them. He fumbled with his shaking, uninjured arm, to his coat pocket and grabbed his canister of Ox and placed it over Bethany’s mouth and gave her, and then himself, a couple of hits. Desperation and sheer terror overcame him. With a feral shriek he found reserves of energy he didn’t know he had and stood up with gritted teeth and flung Bethany, like a rag doll, over his shoulder.
His situation was desperate. “Think Kessler, think!” He shouted but the cacophony of the flames roared louder. He could not see the barrels now as they were obscured behind fire and smoke which had taken on a dark green hue, the stench of the potent chemicals catching Kessler’s lungs and raked his body in hacking coughing fits. He knew it was now or never. Instinct took over and he leapt, still holding Bethany, to the nearest sarcophagus. He heaved with all his might and slid the heavy stone lid to one side, threw in Bethany before tumbling in himself. With the last ounces of energy he pulled the lid shut just as an almighty explosion rocked his senses throwing the pitch black world within the tomb into a maelstrom, spinning and churning into nothingness…
OFFICE TIMES
A grating cough in the darkness roused Kessler into consciousness. He could not breathe and something heavy lay across his chest. Every intake of breath brought about an agony, his throat was red raw and his mouth cracked and dry. He tried to call out for someone, something, but only a wheezing hiss creaked from his scorched innards. Trying to move brought a flash of white pain to the darkness, he struggled to raise his left arm and his head pounded, a constant high-pitched whining noise rung in his ears. The caustic, acrid smell of burning filled his lungs combined with the thick smell of decay. He began to retch but the pain was too much for his broken body to bear.
The detective tried to focus on something to get his bearings, piece together fractured images and memories to give himself a hint as to where he was. A shaft of white light pierced through the dark and he watched as millions of dust particles danced through it. He wondered where it came from. Something moved on top of him and let out a weak sigh, hair flicked over his face and he remembered. Bethany. He reached out into the black and felt the smooth stone of the tomb. With a roar he heaved it to the side and immediately he was showered in light. The cool sludge of rainwater pattered over him.
An alarm blared from somewhere up above and through the murk three powerful search lights scanned over what was now an apocalyptic scene of utter devastation. Kessler pulled up his hood and shielded his eyes from the glare of the lights. Surrounding the now overturned sarcophagus, which had protected him from the inferno, were the smouldering remains of the church. He peered up from what was the crypt but now just resembled a charred crater in the ground. St John’s ancient wooden beams had disappeared leaving only a burnt, splintered frame around the building’s edge, its precious stone columns and their carvings now rubble. Jutting out from the debris, the remains of the walls lay broken and blackened. A sweep of the light revealed that the windows were now gone, as was a large portion of the vaulted ceiling. Throughout the destruction lay globules of white ‘safe foam’ which the fire drone had sprayed to smother the blaze. The large underbelly of the bot flew slowly past him and he shook his head in utter disbelief that he had survived such destruction.
Looking down at the tomb, he could see the unconscious Bethany lying entangled in the bones and rags of its original occupant. As another search light swept over them from above, something sparkled just to the left of her head, in amongst the grim rubble of the sarcophagus. Kessler bent down, wincing as his muscles and skin creaked and cracked from the fire’s touch, and lifted from the debris Bethany’s silver ring. Holding it in front of him by the frayed piece of string, he stared at the spinning jewels as they glistened. Even in the low light of Downtown the diamonds sparkled with a dazzling intensity that almost hypnotised him. “This would sure pick up a fair amount of cred uptown.” He mumbled to himself through his pain, “Make a lot of problems go away.” He looked down at Bethany, her dress was hitched up to her waist revealing ugly, blackened skin that went all the way up her leg. Her white undergarments were also torn and charred by the fire and streaks of blood were splattered across her pale white skin. Kessler, still with the ring dangling from his clenched fist, looked around him and took in the wreckage that was Bethany’s life. He sighed, placed the ring in his pocket and pulled her dress down to cover her bare legs.
Bending low to pick her up, he looked into the eyeless sockets of the skull which lay by Bethany’s head, almost resting against her, and said dryly, “Thanks for looking after us, chief.” He flung the girl over his shoulder with the thought of telling her that one of her imaginary friends had saved them from the fire amusing him and served to distract him a little from the discomfort of his injuries. However, if Bethany was to live long enough to hear that story he had better get back to his office quickly. She was deathly pale and her breathing was laboured.
The Venters were nowhere to be seen as he quickly returned to his vehicle. He placed Bethany in the passenger side where she slumped, head resting against the canopy. She coughed and spluttered then was silent. Kessler reached over and took out his spare respirator, placed it over her mouth and started feeding her much needed Ox then grabbed hold of the com. “Macy, damn the light, where are you?” He kicked the console and swore to himself, “This cheap tech…”
“Hey Kes? I’ve a message for you.” Her usual bored, Midtown tone with a hint of attitude greeted him.
“Don’t worry about that right now. Call Doc Galloway and tell him to meet me in the office. It’s an emergency. I should be back in two hours.” If the traffic was light, he thought to himself.
“He’s quite a busy man, but I’ll try. You ok? You sound terrible.”
“Just tell him, if he knows what’s good for him he’ll be there. Tell him I have a girl suffering from smoke inhalation, burns and…” Kessler looked over at Bethany, “just tell him she’s in a bad way.”
“Will do.”
“Just make sure Doc is there.” He jammed down the receiver button and started the engines. He didn’t have time for talking. He made quickly for the Pipe.
The journey took longer than expected. Kessler rummaged around Bethany’s coat and found her I.D. but despite both having visas to travel up through the Rim to M5 the Vents at border control could see he was desperate. The red of their cold mechanical eyes stared back at him through the canopy as Bethany bled out on the passenger seat. What would they care if another low dweller died? Just one less statistic amongst the billions trying to crawl their way higher up city, one less problem they would have to deal with. It took a whole bunch of credits for them to take an interest and get them waved through, most of what Bethany had already paid him. Kessler cursed under his breath at the Venter as the mag rails took hold of his junker and sped them up the city to Midtown 5.
*
The hours of night were approaching, street lamps dimmed and the garish neon jungle faded as Kessler eventually arrived at his building with the unconsciousness Bethany in his arms. He kicked his door open and strode in passed the open-mouthed Macy straight to his office where the tall, gangly figure of Doctor Galloway stood, tapping his feet impatiently in his long white synthleather coat holding his large black medical bag. The two men exchanged a brief glance before Kessler, quickly kicking away old food cartons and empty bottles, lay Bethany down gently on his sofa.
The doctor barged past him and began examining her. After unwrapping Bethany from Kessler’s coat, he checked her pulse, her breathing and immediately gave her more Ox. Turning to open his case, he spoke between sighs, “So what happened this time or should I not ask?” He looked up at the detective through his yellow spectacles, h
is voice carried the educated and refined tones of Hightown.
“Don’t ask.” He doubled over in a coughing fit and hacked at his lungs to release whatever poisons he had breathed. With shaking hands he took a hit from his inhaler, wincing in pain and cradling his arm as he did so. With the race back here now over, the adrenalin that was holding him together began to ebb away leaving a shattered body behind.
“You’re injured, I’ll have to take a look.”
“Just worry about the girl,” words were spat out between spasms of coughing.
“Anything that I can do Kes?” Macy stood in the doorway looking at him. As usual she was immaculately presented, wearing a short red body suit that seemed to flow over her slim frame. She looked down at Kessler shaking her head with concern and held out a hydration pouch. “Drink some of this.”
“There’s only one drink I need.” He batted away the water, stumbled over to his desk drawer and pulled out a bottle of Piper’s, wincing from another shock of pain from his arm and shoulder. He quickly glugged half its contents down his throat in one swift movement.
Macy walked over to his desk and put down the water. She had seen Kessler in far worse states than this and was used to his ways. “He never drinks enough fluids.” She spoke to the doctor as she left the room.
“You’re lucky to have her, Kes.”
“I don’t need any mothering, I can look after myself.”
“Obviously.” He looked up, frowning at Kessler from where he was kneeling over his patient.
“How’s the girl doing?”
“She has inhaled a lot of smoke and has severe burns down her left side and leg. I’m going to give her something to sleep and, hopefully, prevent infection. We will have to see how well she responds. The next twenty-four hours are vital.”
“She wants to live, Doc. She’s strong” Even if that strength was born of a desperate need for revenge, she wanted to live to see it done.
The doctor took a large syringe out of his case, flicked it with his finger and watched the dark liquid bubble and fizz before taking her arm and delivering the medicine into her blood stream. “You don’t have to watch me you know.”
“I wasn’t watching.” Kessler cleared his throat again. “Just hope she pulls through.”
“Sit down, I’ll be with you in a second.” He began applying a salve to Bethany’s wound and wrapping them in bandages.
Kessler sat down on the chair by his desk and watched Doc work. He was young, no more than thirty years of age but wore a constant frown and the wrinkled face of someone way beyond those years. His delicately manicured hands worked quickly, unbuttoning the top of his white shirt and rolling up his expensive polyfibre sleeves. As he worked, he talked repeatedly under his breath. Kessler had known Doc Galloway for years, first meeting him at a time when both their luck was down. He had worked for Merryll and had permits to live quite a few districts up city from here. The world was at his feet, a young doctor looking forward to a prosperous career within the corps and all the perks that ran with it. The only one small flaw to this plan was that he had quite a severe taste for Methrogen, a particularly nasty painkiller. Getting the job at Merryll was like handing him the keys to the cookie jar. It didn’t take long for him to lose everything, Meth addiction is a nasty business and it was particularly cruel to the doctor. After losing his job, and his free access to the Meth, he was soon living rough in Lower Midtown, his Hightown life a distant memory. With an expensive addiction to feed he soon lost everything. That was when Kessler ran into him.
“She’s got a fever, we need to wait for it to break. Her burns have been treated and should mend.” He looked away from Kessler who sat hunched over his desk, holding his stomach, wheezing for breath, and back over to the unconscious Bethany, “Her lungs are damaged, that is the major concern. She has breathed in some toxic fumes which have scorched her insides. If she lives she will have a very nasty scar down her left side. It could be fixed with some delicate bioware and…”
“She would never want it done. She doesn’t care about such things.”
Doc nodded, took off his latex gloves and threw them into a bin. He fetched a clean pair from his bag. “Now let me take a look at you.”
“I’m ok,” he lied.
“Let me be the judge of that.” Doc took hold of Kessler’s face with both hands and roughly turned it from side to side. “You were never the prettiest creature before. This scar will sure not improve that.”
“Humph. Adds to my charm.”
“Yes, well you certainly have buckets of that.” The serious face nearly cracked a tiny smile. He gave him some meds to numb the pain and bandaged his shoulder, the frown becoming more stern at the sight of the injury to his arm. “You should rest.”
“Don’t have the time. Just patch me up.”
Doc shook his head and looked at Kessler over his glasses, “You will need to keep this dry, if the rain gets into the wound then you could lose the arm, if you are lucky.”
“That filthy rain keeps you in business.” He tried to laugh but hacked a cough instead.
Ignoring Kessler, Doc continued, “Take this medivent and wear it at all times, especially while you are outside. It’s a mix of oxygen and one of my cocktails to keep infection away.” Kessler took the respirator and immediately fitted it over his face and took a couple of long, deep breaths. The effects were immediate and he felt more relaxed, his injuries less sore as the vapours carried their payload into his body.
“I was busy at work when you called, I had to leave patients waiting.” Doc sat by Bethany’s unconscious body, watching Kessler breathe in the medivent’s healing air.
“You’re lucky to be at work at all.” The detective’s short statement came between deep gasps of breath.
The doc rubbed his eyes, “I’m straight now, things are going well.”
“I’m glad.” Kessler didn’t have to say anything else, Doc owed him and he knew it. He had come a long way since Kessler first met him in that stinking cell nearly ten years ago. He would never have lasted. No educated kid from Hightown could make it in that hell hole. He looked at him in his smart poly-fibre shirt, white synth leather trousers, delicate spectacles and shook his head. He had done well to rise up from the filth of the Council cells and turn his life around. “Owes me, big time.” Kessler muttered under his breath.
“You risked her life taking her through the Pipe, she lost a lot of blood.”
“I wasn’t going to take her to some Downtown Stitch Doc to hack her to pieces. No way.” Doc nodded and adjusted his spectacles. “Listen, I need some information on a new chem that’s running the streets.”
“Kes, I want nothing to do with your chem use. I told you before, patching citizens up is one thing,” he gave a quick sideways glance at the unconscious Bethany, “but I’m not helping you waste away on chem.”
“Yea, whatever. Save your preaching for someone who gives a damn. I’m not talking about me, it’s this case I’m involved in. I hear this chem is particularly nasty, been burning a lot of wasters in Downtown.” He fished around in his pockets and took out the priest’s diary and one of the empty caps found in his study. “It may be running in vials with this symbol. Heard anything about it?”
Doc Galloway took the cap and held it up to the light before bringing it to his nose for a quick, sharp sniff. “A burning sun. Haven’t heard of it but there are so many different sims out there and my knowledge is not current anymore.” Doc stared at the vial, lost in his thoughts. “Smells a bit off though. What is in it?” He took his spectacles off and gave his eyes another rub.
“I was hoping you could tell me.”
He took another sniff, “It has a sweet smell, like child’s candy.”
“From what I’ve heard it’s not quite so sweet to whomever takes it. It’s a killer.”
“I’ll take it back to the lab and test it.”
“Thanks.”
Packing his bags he stood up to leave. “Has she got anyone to
look after her over the next few days?”
“No family, she’s got no one. She’ll have to stay here, I’ll get Macy to look after her.” Having a client stay in his office was the last thing he needed but what was he supposed to do? He could not throw her out onto the streets. He needed her credits.
The doctor stood in the doorway putting his coat on, “I’ve left some extra canisters for the medivent, replace them when needed. Call me if she takes a turn for the worse. I’ll be in touch when I have run those tests for you.” He turned towards where Macy was sitting behind her desk, “Make sure he takes his meds.”
Kessler leaned back in his chair and put his feet up on his desk. He was tired and his eyes were heavy. He stared at the sleeping Bethany Turner and was jealous of her slumber. She looked at peace. The meds were drawing him towards his own rest but he knew there was no time, there were questions that needed answering if he was to discover who killed the priest and why. The presence of the Venters and their interest in the church suggested Council involvement. However it did not seem their style. If they wanted its expensive contents they sure went about it the wrong way. Now all that was left was rubble and ash. The splattered blood over the altar and the mess of the priest’s study, as if some sort of animal had torn it apart, all were images that flashed through Kessler’s mind, together with the ominous words, ‘Lux Ferre’. Why would someone spend the time to write that message and who did they expect to read it? Light Bringer? What could it mean? The more he thought of it the less it looked like any robbery he had ever heard of. Finally, of course, there were the empty caps and the manner of the priest’s death. Kessler’s head began to spin and before he knew it he was staring at the capsule of chem he had bought off Stacey Steckles. He took off his medivent and shot it through his eye.