by Devin Hanson
Eva still hadn’t moved, and Angeline watched with growing trepidation as the jailer rattled the mesh. “I ain’t gonna wait, girlie. Shift yourself or you can smell your filth for another day.”
Eva remained in her cot, crunching herself into a tighter ball.
“Your loss. Your cellmates might not appreciate it though,” he chuckled and kicked the hatch closed.
The jailer was nearly out the door when Jasmine spoke up. “Hey, mister.”
“What do you want?” he asked, pausing long enough to turn and favor her with an ugly glare.
“Eva is on her period.”
Adora gasped. “You little bitch!”
The jailer pulled the cart back into the room and leered at Jasmine. “You lying?”
Jasmine shook her head. “Why would I lie? She told us yesterday. Check her yourself.”
The jailer stalked over to Eva’s cage and rattled the mesh. “That true, gweilo? You leakin’?”
Eva moaned. Angeline could see the girl tremble from across the room.
“Easy enough to prove you ain’t. Just stand up and give me a look. Else I’ll send for the doc, and he won’t be gentle.”
“Just leave her alone!” Adora shouted.
“Shut yer mouth,” the jailer replied. “Lest you want me in there to shut it for you.” He glared at Adora until she dropped her gaze. “So what’s it to be girl,” he asked Eva. “Show me you’re not or it’s the doc for you.”
“No…” Eva moaned. “I’m not. I swear I’m not! Please, I just want to go home.”
“Yeah.” The jailer spat to one side. “That ain’t gonna happen. Guess you get the doc.”
He turned and stomped out, taking the cart with him. As soon as the door shut behind him, Adora turned on Jasmine.
“What the hell is wrong with you? They’re going to take her now!”
Jasmine rolled her shoulders in an elaborate shrug and folded herself into a prim, cross-legged sitting position. She portioned out her yeast block and started eating, her back straight, a small smile on her face.
Adora slammed her hand into the mesh. “Hey! I’m talking to you!”
“It’s simple, gweilo. If they take you lot first, then there will be more time for my parents to rescue me.” Jasmine smiled. “Your parents probably already gave up. One less skinny freak isn’t a big loss. Probably didn’t even have a funeral, just a party celebrating one less mouth to feed.”
Adora stared at Jasmine, her face slowly going from fury to disgust. “You’re a real piece of work. There’s a special place in hell for people like you.”
“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Jasmine said, carefully folding a piece of nori around another morsel of yeast. “I’m just trying to survive.”
“My great grandparents were no different than you,” Adora said. “Fresh off the ship from Earth, looking for a new life on Mars. Your children, assuming anyone is fool enough to marry you even if you do get out of here, will all be taller than you. And their children will look just like me. There’s nothing for you to be smug about, you ignorant little bitch.”
Jasmine shrugged. “Like I care what a gweilo thinks. Maybe when you’re screaming under the knife in a few days you can share your theory with the surgeon. In the meantime, I intend to live long enough to start my Womack treatments. Your grandchildren will be cleaning my toilet in a hundred years.”
Adora slammed her hand against the mesh separating their cages. “Yeah, come over here and tell me that to my face.”
Jasmine ignored her and after a minute Adora went back to Eva. Eva had curled into an even tighter ball and was shaking with uncontrollable sobs. Adora tried talking to her again, her voice quiet.
“Why are you being so mean?” Angeline asked Jasmine. “We’re all alone here. All we have is each other.”
“I wish I was alone,” Jasmine snapped. “Free of idiots like you and Adora. Who cares about Eva? I don’t know her. If I can live a few days longer, then it would be worth it.”
“And what about me?” Angeline asked. “If I start my period will you tell on me? You know me, Jasmine. We were friends.”
Jasmine didn’t look at her, just carefully folded nori around another bite of yeast. “I have to get home,” she said. “That’s all I care about.”
“Don’t you think Eva wants to get home too?”
“There are too many gweilo already,” Jasmine sniffed. “Who cares if they all die? Another few hundred years and they won’t even be human any more. Better to wipe them out and start with fresh DNA from Earth.”
Angeline gaped at Jasmine. Where had that come from? She had no idea her erstwhile friend had harbored such dislike.
She couldn’t talk to Jasmine anymore. Another word and she would burst into tears or scream. Or both at the same time. Swallowing back the lump in her throat, Angeline forced herself to eat. After a few bites, her stomach rumbled, reminding her that if she didn’t portion her food this time, she wouldn’t have anything to eat for dinner later.
Angeline had just finished eating her breakfast and hungrily debating whether it would be okay to have just a few bites more when the doors slammed open. She lost all interest in eating as the jailer walked into the room. Close on his heels were two more men, one of whom was Lucien, the other wore a white lab coat and carried with him an oversized briefcase.
Eva shrieked and leaped off her bed. She cowered in the far corner of her cage, wrapping her blanket about herself and shuddering with sobs.
“Leave her alone!” Adora screamed.
“Which one is menstruating?” the doctor asked.
Angeline felt torn. Intellectually she knew Lucien was responsible for her current predicament, but her last memories of him were of dancing to music and the floating sensation of being drunk. She wanted to call out to him, to beg him to save her.
The jailer pointed to Eva and the doctor nodded. “Get in there and secure her.”
With a hissing crack, the jailer extended his baton and the contact point at the tip fizzed with popping arcs of electricity. With brusque efficiency he pulled the door open and strode into the cell. Eva screamed at him and flung herself forward, fingers curved into claws.
Without so much as a blink, the jailer swung the stunrod and intercepted Eva’s lunge. The first jolt of the stunrod rippled through Eva and she collapsed, her limbs twitching uncontrollably. The reek of ozone filled the air as the jailer kneeled down and attached a pair of manacles to Eva’s wrists then another around her ankles.
With Eva secure, he stepped out of the way and made room for the doctor.
Angeline was afraid of the jailer. She had seen his casual brutality as he beat Jasmine into submission. He had a small mind to match his small deeds and took a twisted pleasure from the deprivations he put his captives through. Angeline knew that if she made him mad, he would beat her and neglect to bring her food. She was afraid of him for the immediate dangers he presented to her physical wellbeing.
The doctor, though, brought an entirely different kind of fear to Angeline. He had the white skin and pink eyes of a wujin. His head was shaved bald and the light color of his eyebrows made him look entirely hairless. He had the tall, slender physique of a generational Mars colonist and he walked with a hunched over nervous energy that seemed inhuman.
His physical appearance was disturbing, but it was his eyes that send frigid fingers tightening around Angeline’s heart and goose bumps racing down her arms. They were alive with malice, and he looked upon the trussed up Eva with a cruel glee. To him, the captives were less than human. They were chattel whose value was only in the eggs they carried.
The doctor kicked Eva’s knees apart, but it was hardly necessary. The crotch of Eva’s pants was clearly spotted with blood.
With evident satisfaction, the doctor nodded and made a curt gesture toward Lucien. Lucien ducked into the cage and lifted Eva’s limp body in his arms and carried her out of the room. With a last, proprietary look at the remaining girls, the doctor follo
wed.
The jailer spent a few minutes cleaning out Eva’s cell, then left with the cot and everything that had been in the cell.
Adora sat staring at the empty cage for a long time. Eva might as well have never existed; her only legacy was a muddy smudge on the ground in the corner of the cell where she had cowered from the doctor.
Angeline felt empty inside. Already, one of their number had been taken. To what fate, she barely had the understanding to comprehend. Over and over, she thought the same thing.
One down. Three to go.
CHAPTER
NINE
MISSING
Juliana Novitsky
Brown hair, blue eyes. 4’10, fifteen years old.
Last seen entering a 7-Eleven on Wilshire Blvd. on the 18th of June.
Any information leading to her rescue will earn a $10,000 reward.
This poster was one of several hundred stapled to a telephone pole in West Hollywood, each with a photo of a different girl in the middle. The posters were so thick on the poles that workers had to strip them off with a chainsaw in order to perform maintenance on the lines.
For these desperate families and friends, there was no official police recourse available. The number of kidnappings reached into the hundreds every day in Los Angeles County, far outstripping the ability of the police and FBI to achieve individual rescues. It is estimated that in the year 2127, more than eight hundred thousand girls between the age of fourteen and eighteen were kidnapped and murdered in the US alone.
Min Yang stood outside the police headquarters in Vastitas Cluster and debated with himself whether he should go inside. With a sigh, Min ignored the last of his misgivings and pushed open the door. It was still early in the morning in Vastitas, and the lobby was completely empty.
Unlike the day before, the reception desk was manned by a young gweilo officer who was flipping through his tablet in a desultory fashion. Min strode up to the desk and knocked on the chipped enamel with his knuckles.
Putting on a cheery smile, he greeted the officer. “Good morning! I’m here to use your network stack.”
The officer put down his tablet with a wary look. “You’re that marshal the captain’s been in a huff about.”
“I am. Marshal Yang.” Min held out his hand.
Suspiciously, the youth shook it. “The captain didn’t give any orders about you using our stacks.”
“He wouldn’t have. I only just came into new evidence that could help unlock this kidnapping case. You know, the one with the Chow girl.”
“What do you want to use the stacks for?”
“Look, you seem like a good kid,” Min offered. “But you don’t have the wit or the authority to challenge me. So let me in, I’ll find what I need and be on my way. No fuss, no paperwork.” He paused, gauging the kid’s rebellious look and decided to sweeten the offer. “How about this. You help me get what I need, and I’ll put in a commendation for you with the marshals. If you block me, though, I’ll register an official complaint against the Vastitas police. Violation of section 6, article 32. You know the one. ‘All reasonable cooperation’ is the relevant bit.”
There was an article somewhere that required the cluster police to cooperate with marshals while investigating a crime, but he couldn’t remember the actual number. Odds were the kid behind the counter wouldn’t remember it either. He caught the dissolution of rebellion into doubt and pounced on it. “Today, Officer.” He knocked on the counter again. “While you’re still young.”
The officer folded and he got up to buzz Min through into the offices. “You’ll write me a commendation?”
Min nodded. “Soon as you log me into the system.”
He stood back and let the kid rattle at the keyboard for a minute, then hooked his tablet to the terminal. Min loaded the fingerprints he had taken from Angeline’s room into the stack and let it browse for a match. The stack was an old one, probably the original hardware installed when Vastitas had been first dug out, and it laboriously started scanning through the cluster’s network, searching.
He should be thankful, Min thought sourly, that Vastitas wasn’t any larger or wealthier than it was. If he were trying to search through Olympus Cluster with this antiquated stack, it would take years.
The outer door banged open and loud voices entered the station’s lobby. Min glanced at the progress meter and sighed. There was still quite a bit left of the stack to search. He pushed himself to his feet and turned to face the door.
A pair of policemen entered, both of them well over seven feet tall and moving with the easy grace of habitual fitness fanatics. They spotted Min and their jocularity dropped away.
“Who the hell are you?”
The closest one was already moving to grab Min’s arm and Min turned away the reaching hand, caught the man’s thumb and twisted it back. The policeman dropped to his knees with a yelp, desperately trying to take the pressure off his thumb so it wouldn’t dislocate.
Min held the policeman there for a second, then kicked him away to go sprawling against the antibac tiles. “I’m Marshal Yang, Officer. Touch me again and you’ll spend the week in the hospital.” Min caught the standing officer’s glare and held it until the policeman dropped his eyes with a curse.
“Fucking… just wait until the captain hears about this,” the downed man said as he scrabbled to his feet. “Like I give a shit who you are, wujin. I’ll break you in half for laying a hand on–”
Min twisted the barrel of his pistol into the policeman’s neck. His finger itched on the trigger. It would be so easy, just a few more ounces, and this idiot’s brains would be all over the ceiling. He thought back to Sarah Esperalda’s last words. What was this man’s life worth?
“Back off, gweilo,” Min said quietly into the abrupt silence. “Or don’t. It’s all the same to me.” In the background, he heard the console chirp as it found a match.
“Sorry, Marshal,” the other officer said. Moving slowly, he grabbed his partner’s arm and pulled him away from Min. “Honest misunderstanding.”
Min holstered his pistol, vague regret making his fingers linger on the grip. “I’m sure. Now fuck off, both of you. I’ll be done here in a minute and you can forget you ever saw me.”
After watching the two officers retreat to the lobby, Min copied the search results over to his tablet and took a moment to clear the console’s search history. Let them wonder what he was looking for.
Min stepped out into the lobby. There was no sign of the two policemen. The young officer at the desk looked at him wide-eyed. “Sorry about that.” Min made it halfway to the outer door before turning around. “Hey, kid. Don’t let them push you around for letting me back there. You did the right thing.”
Still feeling like he somehow owed the kid something, Min left the station behind. He hadn’t made any friends there, but such was the nature of marshal and police interactions. Besides. He wasn’t out to win any popularity contests. Right now, all he cared about was rescuing Angeline Nueva de Vita. And if Jasmine Chow was around when he did so, he supposed he’d rescue her too.
Min found a tiny restaurant, barely large enough for a dozen stools at a counter, and ordered breakfast, choosing an item off the menu at random. While he waited for his meal, he retrieved his tablet and took a look at the results from the search.
There was a long string of matches, her thumbprint coming up connected to datachips she had checked out from the school library. He scrolled through them and came to a stop at the last entry. It was a claims ticket at a ritzy imports bar, the Redstone Lounge.
Min’s food came, rolls of yeast paste and nori, with a bean curry dipping sauce. The sauce was hot enough to make his eyes water, and the beans were real black beans. Pleasantly surprised, Min put his tablet away and enjoyed the meal. Whatever Vastitas’ other shortcomings, they had a robust agriculture center.
Despite the heat of the bean sauce, Min couldn’t help but dwell on the last entry. The Nueva de Vita family was a long cry
from being patrons of the Redstone. Even the Chows, wealthy though they might seem, couldn’t really afford to be regulars at the bar. Nuon’s ovaries might have earned them enough money to live richly for many years, but without a regular source of income, that bolus of credits would dry up eventually.
Min finished his meal and complimented the chef on his food. He pulled up a map of the Vastitas market floor and had his tablet find him a path to the imports bar. Why had Angeline visited the Redstone? And had the girls been kidnapped from there?
There was only one way to find out.
It didn’t take Min long to reach the Redstone Lounge. From the outside it was unimpressive poured concrete, hardly inspirational architecture to trigger wanton spending. The marketplace was just starting to show signs of waking up. Vendors were setting out signs, customers hurried through mostly-empty passages. It was peaceful; the quiet lingering between the stalls hinting at the rush to come.
Hardly the kind of setting where one would expect girls to be kidnapped and sold for their organs.
Min stepped through the doors of the Redstone Lounge. The lights were all the way up and employees bustled about, cleaning and setting up for the day. A towering Chinese gweilo saw Min enter and hurried over, his face set in lines of irritation.
“Sir, we’re not open for business. The restaurant opens at noon, if you would like to come back then.”
Min held his ground and waited for the man to get close before flashing his badge. “Colonial Marshals. I’m here on business, not pleasure.”
“I assure you, all our papers are in order. If you would like to see our import logs, you can go through the–”
“I don’t care about your imports,” Min cut him off brusquely.
A woman, dressed stylishly for a decade more than a century gone, entered the foyer through a side door. She had hair dyed burnt umber, but her skin and eyes gave her away as a wujin. She tapped the towering Chinese on the elbow, having to reach up to do so. “Charles, why don’t you return to your duties.”