Play at Soul's Edge

by Sophia Amador

  “Thanks,” he said with a swagger. “That asshole giving you trouble, Huston?”

  “Nothing I can’t handle,” she said. “The dickhead was accusing me of trying to deal drugs, can you believe it?”

  Mario’s jaw dropped in mock dismay. “Really? Lancaster’s such an uptight dumbass. He should know better than that.” He grinned wickedly at her. “Only Tenebras has the right to deal on this campus. And that ain’t you.”

  She glanced over her shoulder and lowered her voice. “Not that I wouldn’t mind getting into some of that action. I could use the dough.”

  “Fuck, I dunno anything about that.”

  At his locker, he twirled his combination. Keisha followed him and stood at his elbow, large dark eyes cocky. “Hey, big guy,” she began.

  He spun and grabbed her by the collar. “Shut up, dumbass. You don’t wanna call me that.”

  Her eyes widened and he was gratified to see her swallow. It was good to be feared. That was how it was gonna be from now on. Satisfaction bubbled in his chest. “Sorry! I’m sorry, Fonseca!” He let her go and she staggered. Her voice humbled. “I just—well, everyone says you’re the man to see if someone wants anything around this school.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean, bitch?” he said, slamming his locker shut.

  Keisha drew closer, lowered her voice further. “Everyone says you’re a member.”

  Mario snorted and chugged down the hall. Keisha tagged along behind. “You look too smart to believe what everyone says.”

  “Fonseca,” Keisha pleaded, “I really need money. Couldn’t I get in on it? I’d make a good courier because of my size—no one suspects a little girl. And you know I can fight.”

  “Yeah,” he admitted. “You can fight.” His face split in a grin. “You sure stomped that son of a bitch Lancaster.”

  She grinned back. “Bet he didn’t like his ass getting kicked by a girl half his size.”

  He pretended to consider. “All right, Huston. I’ll think about it.”

  “Thanks! You won’t regret it, I swear.”

  Mario walked away, thinking of what he would report later that afternoon.

  Yeah, I won’t regret it. But you will. Schwartz will be ready. Adrian’s left himself wide open with this one, thinking I’m playing his game to lure you in. He’s going down hard. And you, Keisha the cop, are just going to be collateral damage.

  Elisa

  Elisa placed the glassine star on top of her small Christmas tree and stood back to eye it critically, for a moment caught by the glittering, blurred reflections of light through its wavy panes. She always decorated a miniature tree every year, just as she and Carlos used to do back when he was still around. It always made her sad, and this year was worse than usual.

  She would be alone again this year, as she almost always was at Christmas. Her mother was rarely home during the season, and Elisa had become accustomed to celebrating the holiday alone. But this year she had hoped, for once, that she would be able to spend it with someone she loved.

  “I’m terribly sorry to have to appear to distance myself from you, Elisa,” Adrian had said. “But you yourself asked me to leave Tenebras. If I don’t plan my departure carefully, they will kill me.”

  Yes. It was her fault. She had asked him to leave the gang, and in her heart she knew it would be dangerous. Should she have asked him to risk his life?

  She firmed her lips. Yes. She couldn’t live with the activities he was involved in. Even though she hadn’t dared to ask him point-blank if Tenebras was paying him for drug synthesis, it was clear he was doing terrible things.

  He had to stop.

  But the thought of what they might do to him—it was the most horrible thing she could imagine.

  Part of her wanted to grab him and say, “I don’t care what you do, as long as you stay safe. As long as you do whatever it takes to stay alive. Because more than anything else, I couldn’t live if you were dead.”

  This must be the shadow the fortuneteller had warned her about. The terrible dilemma.

  “I’ll have to spend the winter vacation laying the groundwork for my retirement from Tenebras,” Adrian had continued. “I’m sorry I won’t be with you, but it’s the best opportunity to finish things up cleanly and safely.”

  She nodded, biting her lip. He took her hand. “But don’t worry. When this is all over we’ll be together again, and I’ll be free, just as you wished.”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “I understand, Adrian. It’s for the best. But—” She raised her eyes to his. “Please be careful.”

  “Don’t worry. I have everything all planned out. We’ll both be safe, as long as you stick with the precautions I’ve laid out for you.”

  With his words, her heart chilled further. It hadn’t even occurred to her that she herself might be in danger from the gang. But of course there was risk, now that everyone in Tenebras knew about her.

  So she was spending most of the holiday holed up in her small apartment. What would Carlos say if he knew she was in hiding because she was dating a gang member? He would shake his head.

  “I’m so disappointed in you, Elisa. How low can you go?”

  “But I thought he was the kind of person you’d want for me. A model citizen, straight-A student.”

  Carlos scolded, “No, you found that dark side of him thrilling. You must’ve known, from your very first date at the fair, that something wasn’t right. But you kept on. Just like Mother. You even slept with him! And after everything you promised me.”

  “I’m sorry, Carlos. I’m sorry I couldn’t keep my promises.”

  “You’re going to be even sorrier.”

  The branches of the little pine left long red scratches on her arms as she pulled away, and all the lights on the tree blurred as she blinked away tears.

  25

  Holman

  HOLMAN WHISTLED TUNELESSLY between his teeth as he pipetted liquid into a large test tube clamped over a Bunsen burner. He made a notation in the dog-eared lab notebook on the bench beside him. The latest experiment was yielding excellent results. If it continued on this way, he was definitely going to be making a name for himself in the world of biochemistry. He made another observation of the liquid in the test tube and noted it.

  He yawned, rubbed the back of his neck, and glanced at his watch. It was quite late. The development of Rapture had ended up being extremely lucrative, but the long hours required for his extra-legal activities on top of his job as chief scientist at Schwartz Pharmaceuticals were exhausting. But his work was vital to Schwartz, providing desperately needed funds to the company.

  The drug had all sorts of fascinating effects on the human body. He was opening up an entirely new line of biochemistry research. Certain parts of the earlier work in the development of Rapture looked as if they might lead to the discovery of a new type of anti-depressant. If only he had time to delve more deeply into that area of research. Luckily, his student intern, Adrian, was surprisingly good. Still, Holman didn’t want to let him know how important his results actually were, because then the kid might start getting the idea that he was the genius.

  And that wouldn’t do. No, that wouldn’t do at all. The revolution in anti-depressants would be led by the brilliant, the famous Eric Holman.

  Soon he would publish certain whitewashed results with himself as first author. Then all those snotty universities that had turned down his job applications, saying his work was “too business-oriented,” would listen. At last, they would appoint him to that distinguished faculty position he had long coveted. Finally, he would get the respect he deserved.

  But there were still obstacles in his path to greatness. Holman frowned. He needed more human subjects. Animal experiments just hadn’t provided the results he required. It was regrettable that the last group of human subjects hadn’t survived long. He hadn’t been able to observe the changes in brain chemistry he needed. It was too bad he couldn’t involve the student interns in that work; he could h
ave used Adrian’s insight. He would tell Schwartz soon that they needed to send Fonseca out on another collection run.

  The soundproofed lab in the back had already been emptied of the previously failed subjects. Fonseca had been quite helpful there too.

  He would need at least a dozen. Fonseca charged an exorbitant amount to round up a few homeless people cluttering the downtown Rockton alleys. Hopefully Schwartz wouldn’t balk at the expense.

  But he also needed subjects undamaged by drink, drugs, or exposure. Fonseca had hinted he could help there too, mentioning he had his eye on a couple of healthy young specimens he could bring in soon, teenagers from the local high school. Holman had jumped at the chance, despite the much higher price tag.

  Schwartz shouldn’t complain about the cost. Not only was Holman synthesizing a powerful drug that was making them all rich, but he was also advancing science and helping to clean up the homeless problem. Who would miss a few impoverished teenagers in this overpopulated world? They would probably die as a result of gang violence anyway. Really, Holman was doing a service to society. He puffed out his chest.

  A knock sounded on the lab door. The night security guard let his visitor into the room. Fonseca’s lackey was slight and pallid, the signs of advanced Rapture addiction visible to Holman’s expert eye. Bloodshot eyes, tremors, extreme pallor. Shaggy, shoulder-length, light brown hair fell in an unruly tangle over a dirty shirt collar as the kid sidled into the room, teeth bared in a rictus of a grin.

  “Got a truck full of ‘volunteers’ out in the back parking lot for you,” the kid said.

  “Good.” Holman looked down his nose at him. Such lack of discipline, addicting himself to such a dangerous drug. He and all the others deserved what they got. “Have them brought to loading dock C.”

  Time for more scientific progress.

  Elisa

  Despite Elisa’s worries, nothing appeared to happen, and by the time the New Year rolled around, she had almost forgotten to be afraid. She was sitting alone in her apartment late one chilly January night when someone pounded on her door. Her heart lurched. Adrian had given her strict orders not to open it without checking first.

  Glancing through the peephole, she stiffened, heart thudding.

  It was Kim.

  What could she be doing here? Adrian had been right, Elisa thought: they were coming after her.

  Kim was hunched over, one hand wrapped around her upper arm, her harsh panting audible through the wooden partition.

  “Elisa,” she called. Her voice was reedy and weak. “Hey, can you let me in?”

  Elisa said nothing. Her mother would have insisted on calling the police. Adrian would have told her not to be foolish. Both of them would have demanded she keep the door shut.

  “I know you’re in there, Elisa. Please—” Kim coughed. “I’m not gonna hurt you.” There was a long pause. “You’re one of us now; can you please help me? I’ve—I’ve been shot.”

  Elisa checked the peephole. Blood was seeping out from between Kim’s clenched fingers, staining her sleeve. Was it a trick?

  Probably. Kim had beaten her up in the girls’ bathroom all those months ago. Why should Elisa think Kim was on her side now just because she was dating a member of the gang? She was “one of them”? Ha. Likely story. Adrian had warned her to watch out. Kim didn’t have her best interests at heart, he’d said.

  But Elisa couldn’t just leave Kim to bleed out at her front door. Hadn’t she decided it was time to make her own decisions?

  For most of her life, she’d followed her mother’s ridiculous rules. Then, in a single moment, she tossed them all aside and devoted herself to Adrian.

  But his judgment was just as severely lacking as her mother’s. Yes, he’d had a hard life, but that didn’t justify his poor choices. And it was because Elisa had gone along with his lousy decisions that they were stuck in this mess, that she was cringing behind a locked door, not even daring to go to the grocery store.

  In hiding. In a modern city in the twenty-first century. Crazy.

  Well, it was too bad. A human being was bleeding out and she was done with spending her life afraid. Fuck ‘em.

  She opened the door.

  Kim staggered in and collapsed on the couch. “Thanks,” she said, trying to grin at Elisa in her old, insouciant way, but it ended up more like a grimace of pain.

  Elisa was shocked at the size of the bloodstain on her clothes, leaking out around the hand Kim kept tightly wrapped around her left arm. “What happened?”

  “Goddamn bastards were chasing me; one of them winged me.” She sagged with weakness. “Lotsa creeps out on the street for some reason. Dunno who or why the fuck they’re after me. Been hiding out, waiting till I could come here. Knew you could help me.”

  “You’ve lost a lot of blood, and you’re going to lose more. You need to go to the hospital.”

  “No! No hospitals.” Kim slumped lower on the couch. “They’d fucking arrest my ass.” Her voice sharpened. “Just lemme stay for a night.”

  Elisa tugged at her hair. “But I can’t take care of you.”

  “S’easy,” Kim said. “You just gotta take it out.” Her eyes flickered open, then shut again. “Give you instructions.”

  There was no way Elisa could remove a bullet from someone’s arm. “Ben! You need to go to his clinic. He could help you.”

  Kim opened one eye, some of her old irony returning. “You gotta be fucking kidding. Ben wouldn’t do shit for me.”

  “The Lancaster Free Clinic doesn’t turn anyone away.”

  “Nah.” Kim slumped again, eyes closing. “They’d call the cops for sure. I’d be dead meat.” Her head lolled to one side. Alarmed, Elisa put her hand on Kim’s forehead. She was burning up with fever.

  It didn’t matter what Kim said, Elisa was going to call the hospital. But Kim grabbed her shoulder before she could get up. “No! Don’t tell anyone! You’d be fucking signing my death warrant!”

  “You’re going to die anyway without treatment.”

  “S’okay. You can do it. You just need a sharp knife and some boiling water.”

  She wanted Elisa to perform an operation on her, right in her living room? Was everybody in this world nuts?

  “Here’s all it takes.” Kim’s voice started out faint but strengthened as she continued. “Boil water to sterilize the knife. Then you dig it into the wound and flip out the fucking bullet. Nothing to it.” She exhaled with a racking sound Elisa realized was meant to be a laugh. “Get a bowl, something to catch the bullet in, to keep all the blood from wrecking your nice couch.”

  Elisa heard Carlos’s voice. “Aiding and abetting a gang member? Let’s see, that’s ten years to life. Just call 911 instead.”

  Her mother said, “You’re not capable of doing a job that requires that much skill. You know how stupid you are.”

  Adrian added, “It’s probably all a trick anyway. She hates you.”

  That made Elisa angry.

  “Shut up already! I’m not gonna let her die!”

  She went to the bathroom, got scissors and a washcloth down from the shelf, and ran hot water on the towel. Returning, she found Kim slumped over, unconscious. She cut away Kim’s sleeve to expose the wound and hissed in dismay. The edges of the hole were jagged and inflamed. Kim’s arm was swollen, angry and red around the wound, and a discoloration had appeared around the edges. Even Elisa’s untrained eye could recognize the signs of infection and blood poisoning.

  She went to the kitchen and set the water boiling. She gathered her equipment, tested the keenness of her best kitchen knife, and dipped it into the water.

  She laid everything out on a tray and brought it back to the couch where Kim lay, now restlessly muttering to herself.

  “All right,” Elisa said, her voice startling her with its firmness. “I’m going to do it now, Kim. Are you ready?”

  Kim steeled herself, eyes going hard. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

  Carefully, Elisa washed th
e wound. The towel soon became soaked with blood. She wrapped a strip of cloth around Kim’s bicep to stave off more bleeding and gave her another washcloth. Kim clenched it between her teeth and nodded.

  Pushing up her sleeves, Elisa picked up the knife. She felt a little faint, but took a firm hold and kept it steady. She brought the knife to the wound, probed quickly, and felt it hit something hard. Kim grunted into the cloth as her eyes rolled back in her head. With a movement that surprised her with its surety, Elisa shifted the angle of the knife, dug in further and with a flip of her wrist scooped out the offending slug of metal. It clanged into the bowl along with more blood, mercifully kept from spurting thanks to the tourniquet.

  Kim gasped, her eyes rolled, and she passed out. Elisa cleaned the wound with hot water and rebandaged it, her hands rock steady now, as though she had tapped into some innate source of strength.

  She wiped a cool cloth over Kim’s forehead. Her fever was still high, but surely she would feel better the next morning.

  “Tell the Captain,” Kim muttered, twisting her head back and forth.

  “Shhh,” Elisa said. “Be quiet now and rest.”

  “No!” Kim’s eyes opened in a moment of lucidity. “S’important. You gotta tell the Captain that Fonseca’s turned traitor.” Her breath came in harsh gasps and she could hardly get out the words. “And I think Hundley too. He needs to know.” Her eyes closed again and she slumped back, losing consciousness.

  Elisa stared down at her in dismay. Why would Kim think Elisa had any way to contact the Captain of Tenebras? Surely the Captain would see Adrian’s departure as a betrayal. But what Kim was saying sounded like a warning.

  She needed to talk directly with Adrian, but his instructions had been very clear.

  “Don’t try to contact me under any circumstances,” he had cautioned. “There will be a trace on my phone. For your own protection, I’m going to pretend to lose interest in you. That way, if there’s any reaction to my departure from Tenebras, it will be deflected from you.”