2 Degrees

by Bev Prescott

  She dodged the guy’s blade and swung her hammer, making solid contact with his jaw.

  He howled and dropped to his knees, cupping his mouth. “My . . .” He moved his bloodied hands from his face, and two teeth clinked onto the concrete.

  She stepped toward him with her hammer raised.

  He cowered as his formerly brave accomplice ran off.

  Sharon returned her hammer to its baldric and realized she was panting. Her body ached with exhaustion.

  “Let us share some of our water with you.” The father put a hand to her shoulder. “To repay you. We have some food as well.”

  “No, thank you,” her voice quivered. “I still have some left.”

  “Are you all right?”

  “No, but I have to keep going.”

  “I understand.” He lowered his hand from her shoulder. “May Earth keep you in her good graces.”

  “It’s been a long time since I heard someone use that saying.” Sharon managed a faint smile. “You as well.”

  “Earth and the people we love carry us through.” He laid his hands on the heads of the boy and girl. “I remind myself every morning so that I have the strength to keep going. You keep going too, stranger.”

  “I will.” Sharon turned and walked north away from the man and two children. Death in a place like Millennium Park, she suspected, came quickly and often. She hoped that he’d live long enough to raise his kids. They reminded her of Inu. She missed him.

  As she went on, her legs grew more tired. She needed food, water, and rest. A man yelled something in the near distance. He spoke like a preacher and grew louder the closer she got. A flash of light like the sun hitting metal and bouncing off burned her eye. She turned her head to see a giant glistening object shaped like a kidney bean. The Cloud Gate sculpture Federico described.

  The preacher stood on a bench nearby with his hands held toward the sky. “Oh, the end of times is upon us. Repent now.” He shook a fist. “No one believes anymore. This”—he spread his arms wide—“is how we die.”

  Ignoring the preacher’s superstitious yammering, Sharon stood in front of the glassy bean and studied her reflection. Her face sagged under the weight of despair and exhaustion. Bags circled her eyes, and the color of her skin had gone ashen. Her thick, dark wavy hair curled in haphazard directions. A yellowed bruise marked the middle of her forehead where she’d head-butted Mags. Crusty dark blood discolored the glue Dr. Ryan had used to close the gash at the side of her head. “Whatever happens, keep going,” she said to herself. She closed, then opened her eyes as if somehow that would help.

  The scent of sweet fern wafted over her shoulder as a familiar reflection joined hers in the bean. The passenger from the MagLev platform.

  He smiled. “Hello, Sharon. Please come with me. I want to help you.”

  How the hell does he know my name? She wheeled around and reached for her hammer just as Federico jabbed the muzzle of a short-barreled spectraletto at the passenger’s torso.

  “Not likely,” Federico said.

  A young, well-built man a head shorter than Federico flanked the passenger’s other side. With bright green eyes, bushy beard, high, freckled cheekbones and red hair, he looked like a human oddity. “No, not likely at all.” He tightened his arm around the passenger’s.

  “Get your filthy hands off of me.” The passenger tried to yank free of the red-haired man.

  “No.” Federico leaned toward the man’s ear. “You do not speak until we ask you to speak.” He turned his eyes to meet Sharon’s. “Now do you believe me?”

  “You are a . . .” The passenger’s eyes rolled up into his head and his mouth froze around an empty attempt to finish his sentence. The fingers of his hand, at the end of the arm held by the red-haired man, splayed out like a claw.

  The red-haired man’s thumb pressed into the pressure point at the passenger’s wrist. “I’m a Buddhist. It goes against my grain to hurt people.” He let go. “But it also goes against my grain to let someone hurt my friends. That’s where I make an exception to not inflicting violence. So shut the hell up—so I don’t have to hurt you.”

  “Thank you, JJ.” Federico smiled at the red-haired man. “This is Sharon. Sharon, meet JJ, which is short for Jujitsu Jack. As you can see, he knows a thing or two about the martial arts.”

  “I’d be a fool not to believe you now.” Sharon kept hold of her hammer. “Tell me what’s going on?” She locked eyes with the passenger. “How do you know my name?”

  “Not here.” Federico held her gaze as if trying to lay open his motives for her to see. “The Strelitzia doesn’t play by the same set of rules as we do. Come with us.” He reached into the coat pocket of the passenger and retrieved an acupalmtell. “The Strelitzia has something that belongs to us. We want it back. Given the passenger’s interest in you—you’re somehow connected. You help us, and we’ll help you.”

  Sharon studied the three men for clues. The young freckled and red-haired man, and tall, slender, distinguished Federico seemed more earnest than the clean-cut passenger, who now seemed sinister. “How?”

  “We have ways of getting inside the internment camp.” Federico’s soft voice left no hint of anything resembling a lie. “We can have Eve out by this afternoon. But first, we need to have some questions answered by the Strelitzia.” He tilted his head left. “We go to our building, ask the questions, and then sneak into the camp to rescue your wife. You have my word.”

  “I’ve known Federico a long time,” JJ interrupted. “He never lies.”

  “Everyone lies,” Sharon said.

  “Give us a chance to prove our word is good.” Federico cocked his head. “Take a walk with us to the building I showed you in the picture. We’ll have you inside the camp before sundown.”

  Sharon squinted skyward. The sun hung around one o’clock. If Federico kept his word, she would have her arms around Eve within five hours. “If I go with you, I want the spectraletto.”

  Federico laughed. “We saw you back there with your hammer. You really need our weapon too?”

  “Yes. There are three of you.”

  “All right then.” Federico slapped the passenger on the back and spoke into his ear. “You don’t want to know what JJ will do to your pressure points if you misbehave.” He thumbed his weapon’s safety switch to on. He turned it butt end toward Sharon. “Here you go. Now will you come with me?”

  Sharon checked the weapon’s energy gauge. The needle pointed into the green at 80 percent full. “For now, yes.” She stuffed the spectraletto into the waistband of her dungarees.

  The passenger’s top lip twitched. “You’re making a mistake.”

  “No talking.” JJ put a hand to the back of the passenger’s neck pressing his thumb and forefinger into pressure points there. “I don’t need a spectraletto to shut you up. And hey, there are pressure points you don’t even know you have. Think about that.”

  Federico fished around in the passenger’s pockets. He retrieved an SComCat and a knife. “A trade.” After slipping the items into his own pocket, he pulled out a flexible mask. “You won’t be able to see, talk, or hear with this on. Not to worry, you’ll be able to breathe just fine.” He slipped the mask over the passenger’s head. “Shall we?” Federico pointed toward the building west of the glistening Cloud Gate sculpture. “Let’s get our questions answered, and then find your Eve.”

  Chapter 8

  Picked-clean bones of what looked like a rat littered the floor of the dimly lit room. “What is this place?” Sharon covered her mouth with Eve’s scarf to stifle the clammy smell of the filthy, shabby building.

  “The entrance to our underground safe haven.” Federico swiped the tiny screen on a micro-acupalmtell embedded in his sleeve. Soft light flooded a staircase that sloped downward. “These take us to an abandoned underground parking lot. Only things down there are rusted and burned-out hydro-cars and trucks.” He motioned for Sharon and JJ to follow.

  JJ tugged the masked passen
ger with him.

  Once the four of them were on the staircase, Federico locked the heavy steel door behind them. He pecked and swiped at the screen of the micro-acupalmtell. “Just need to check for any intruders.” He pointed at the top of the wall where it met the ceiling. “We have cameras and heat sensors all around.” He studied the screen.

  “We good?” JJ asked.

  “Yeah.” Federico swiped the screen off. “Come.” He led them across the parking lot to another door. When he touched all five fingers of his right hand to a key pad, the door slid open, revealing a small room that looked like the cockpit of some kind of vehicle. “This is an amphibious travel pod built in the 2040s. The city used to use it to inspect the sewer pipes. It was a brilliant idea. The pod can move through the tunnels whether they’re full or empty.” He climbed into the pod. “Unfortunately, there are only two left. On the upside, we control them both.”

  JJ maneuvered the passenger inside and into a jump seat. “We can travel to wherever we want beneath the city.” He lowered the seat’s torso-restraint over the passenger’s chest, clicking it locked.

  With his hands tied at the wrists and the mask over his face, the passenger sat motionless and silent.

  Wondering what he was thinking and why he was after her lifted the hairs on the back of Sharon’s neck.

  Federico gestured for her to follow. “I know it seems gross, but the pod is sealed. It’s equipped with air scrubbers and an O2 generator, just like the mud subs that helped win all those Continental Shelf Wars. As you can see, she seats five, originally for a pilot, two technicians, a mechanic, and a diver.” He pointed at a gasket surrounding the entryway. “When the pod lands in a room off of the tunnel, it’s sealed at the doorway. You’d never know we’re about to travel through a river of shit unless I told you so.”

  “Thanks for the visual.” Sharon eased into the pod’s tight space and lowered the scarf. Lights, levers, and buttons took up the real estate on the dash. She guessed the pilot’s seat was the one with a classic-style throttle and steering wheel. “Who are the ‘we’ that you refer to?”

  JJ lifted his wrist and pulled back the sleeve of his jacket. “We’re the Qaunik people. I’m guessing you’ve never heard of us.” The tattoo on his wrist matched the one on Federico’s.

  “No,” she confirmed.

  “When we have more time, I’ll fill you in. For now, please, sit.” Federico pointed at an empty jump seat. “We must go.” He slid the pod door closed, settled himself into the pilot’s seat at the control panel and flipped a switch. The pod’s systems whirred to life. A series of clear panels and exterior lights gave a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view of the ick in the tunnel.

  Sharon shook her head in disbelief as she sat and secured the torso-restraint of her jump seat. “So, where are we going that requires traveling through a river of shit?”

  “To the Goldfinch jazz bar, as we call it.” JJ settled into the jump seat next to Federico. “Not the nicest view to get there, but one doesn’t typically run into anyone else while traveling through a river of sewage.” He flashed a smile. “You know your true friends by the ones willing to go through shit with you.”

  “Does this make me a friend?” Sharon asked.

  JJ gave her a wink. “Time will tell.”

  “NONA must be backed up cleaning water at the Jardine Water Treatment Plant; the tunnel is full.” Federico slid his finger across the command-screen and pressed a button several times, ramping up the engines. “That’s the propeller you hear. We’ll be there very shortly.”

  Sharon glanced at the subdued passenger. The Caucasian-skin-colored mask fit snug over his face. It covered his eyes, mouth, and ears, exposing only his nose. With his hands folded in his lap he seemed relaxed, almost as if he might be meditating. His unnatural calmness under the circumstances and the fact that he knew her name unnerved her.

  After traveling about twenty minutes, Federico unlatched a transceiver from the console. “Coming in to dock. Please prepare the hatch.”

  “Roger,” a voice replied. “Preparing hatch. Over.”

  Federico slowed the engines and maneuvered the pod from the tunnel into a large room.

  “See the gasket?” JJ pointed at its outline, which glowed reflective yellow in the beam of the pod’s forward lights.

  Federico lined the pod up with the gasket. “Docking now,” he said into the transceiver.

  “Roger,” the voice acknowledged. “Hatch ready.”

  Federico returned the transceiver to the console. He pressed the pod against the wall and flipped a switch. A whoosh blew from the pod as it suctioned to the wall. “Here we are.” He got up and opened the pod door.

  JJ freed the passenger from the restraint and lifted him to his feet by his armpits. They followed Federico from the pod.

  Sharon unlatched her torso-restraint and got to her feet. Music played somewhere in the distance, a brassy sound she didn’t recognize. She liked it. Peppered in the quiet space of the music was the sound of human laughter. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard music and laughter.

  “We’ll stop in the communication room first. The boss wants us to do a deep interview on this guy, if we can.” Federico led them down the hallway. “Then we’ll report in.”

  JJ tugged the passenger along by his elbow.

  Federico motioned for them to join him in a room, bare except for a large video screen and various types of electronic equipment. “Let’s find out why the Strelitzia is after you, Sharon.” He set the SComCat he’d taken from the passenger’s pocket on the table in front of the screen. He jutted his chin at the passenger. “You can take that off of him.”

  JJ released the restraints on the passenger’s wrists and pulled the mask from his face.

  The passenger rolled his head back, gulping in big mouthfuls of air. His wiped his splotchy and sweaty face with his hands.

  “Hope you enjoyed your quiet time.” Federico pointed at the SComCat. “Because now it’s talking time.”

  “Fuck you.” The passenger crossed his arms over his chest, though he looked afraid. “I’m not going to tell you anything.”

  Sliding the SComCat in front of him, Federico said, “Lucky for you, it’s the Strelitzia we want to talk to. You’re going to call him.”

  “Like hell I am,” the passenger snorted. “It’ll be the last call I ever make.”

  JJ put his hand to the back of the passenger’s neck. “Press in the code.”

  “Are you hard of hearing?” Lacing his fingers together, the passenger laid his hands in his lap. “I said I’m not doing it.”

  “What is that smell?” Federico lifted his nose and sniffed the air around the passenger. “You recognize that, JJ?”

  Sharon wondered if Federico referred to the scent of sweet fern she’d noticed on the passenger at the MagLev platform.

  JJ pressed his fingers into the soft spots of the passenger’s neck. “Smells like someone who has the luxury of three square meals, plenty of water, and a shower every day.”

  The passenger winced. “You filthy idiots won’t make me talk. In fact, your two-bit torture routine is starting to bore me. If you had it in you to make me bleed, you’d have done it already.”

  “We don’t need to make you bleed.” Federico bent and put his lips close to the passenger’s left ear. “I know what kind of person you are. Which means I know your worst fear. You’re not afraid to bleed—you’re afraid of the dark. Just like everyone else.”

  The passenger’s lip twitched.

  Federico straightened and nodded at JJ.

  JJ pressed hard into a pressure point at the passenger’s neck.

  He kicked and struggled against JJ, unable to speak.

  “That’s enough,” Federico said.

  JJ let go.

  The passenger bent over the desk and panted. “You fucker,” he growled.

  “A fucker who doesn’t have time to waste. Which is why I’ll spell out with specificity the only two option
s you have.” Federico held up a finger. “One, you punch in the code and call the Strelitzia.”

  “And then he kills me,” the passenger added.

  “Or two.” Federico held up two fingers. “We take you to one of our holding cells. There, your skin will not feel the sun. Your eyes will not see light. You’ll be fed just enough water and dried insects to keep you alive. No one will talk to you. You will hear no sound. Your life will be spent in perpetual darkness, hunger, thirst, and isolation. And you most definitely will not smell nice, like sweet fern. You’ll wish you were dead.”

  Holy shit. Sharon made a mental note not to end up on the wrong side of the Qaunik. For such outwardly kind people, they had a brutal streak.

  The passenger glared at Federico.

  “See?” Federico slapped a hand to the table. “I told you we don’t need to make you bleed.”

  “Personally,” JJ added, “I’d rather die a horrible death than live hungry, thirsty, and lonely in the dark.”

  “Will you let me go if I do it?” the passenger asked. “I’ll take my chances running from the Strelitzia.”

  “We’ll do better than that.” JJ clamped a hand to his shoulder. “We can drop you off someplace far away.”

  “I’ll make the goddamned call.” The passenger reached for the SComCat.

  “Good man.” Federico sighed. “I’m sorry, Sharon, you had to witness such harshness. We must do what we must do, though.”

  “I plan to stay on your good side.”

  Federico smiled his empathetic smile. “This from the woman who knocked a man’s teeth out for trying to steal water from a father and his children.” His smile evaporated when he looked at the passenger. Laying his palms on the table, he leaned to within inches of the passenger’s face. “Call him. Now.”

  Flinching, the passenger put his hand to the SComCat and pressed a sequence of numbers on its keypad.

  A crackling preceded an electronically altered voice that spoke from it. “I trust that you’ve found her.”