Eden

by Nathan Evans

  The light of the glowing brow died as it shattered. Gore mingled with flecks of reinforced plastic as it burst through the back of the helmet. Like anchors, his armored feet didn’t budge. The knees folded, dragged down by the weight of the head. He connected, then lay still on the pavement, his lower half tented awkwardly.

  Akio’s jaw went limp. He pulled the gun clear from his ruined pocket and stared at it in disbelief. This was different than Irving.

  He wanted nothing more than to throw the weapon away. He would have if the thought of the Girl hadn’t pressed itself against his mind like a hot coal. He shoved the weapon into his inside jacket pocket as he scrambled to his feet.

  A thick stream of red thinned and washed away from the red brow’s skull and down the street gutter. Akio spared a glance before turning and running across the street, disappearing down another alleyway. His lungs burned and his legs ached. The guilt inside of him evolved into something else, something worse, something he’d never felt before. He shoved it aside and kept moving, thinking only of the Girl.

  She needed him, so he would come.

  CHAPTER 17

  Yuki wanted to sleep; to lay down in bed in front of the twinkling fog outside her window and fall away. Instead, she found herself pressing the side of her face against the cold steel of a table, bare save for the latch at its center; the one they’d fed the chain that connected the handcuffs biting into her wrists through. She was thankful they’d at least given them some slack to play with, her ankles weren’t so lucky. The parts of the chain that held them were looped through clamps welded in the floor. To even attempt standing, was to risk snapping a joint.

  She shifted in an attempt to find something close to comfort, and the chain sang. She extended her wrists and moved her head to her shoulder. She didn’t bother to close her eyes. Despite her fatigue, she knew that sleep wouldn’t come, not in this place.

  The room was small and the walls were as bare as the table, save for the opaque window and locked door that took up the wall opposite her. There was no way to tell what time it was or even how long she’d been there. She only knew that it’d been long enough that she no longer cared who might be watching her on the other side of the glass.

  She picked her head up and stared at the mirror, scowling. It stared back, its tint so dense it refused her reflection. Rage, pure and hot, took over and she extended her middle finger, gritting her teeth.

  The gesture was stupid, she knew it, but she didn’t care. It wasn’t for whoever lied behind it. It was for the man that had used her and fed her to the wolves.

  “Now, now, Ms. Tukiko, that’s not a great way to start this conversation.”

  She hadn’t heard the door open or seen him step through. She must be even more fatigued than she’d originally thought, he was impossible to miss. He was a white man, it was the first thing she noticed; his skin healthy, vibrant and clean; too clean. As if he were attempting to continue the trend, the button up he wore was an even brighter white, starched and pressed immaculately. It was a striking contrast to his equally pressed black slacks and the red tie that ran down his middle like an open wound.

  His arms were unusually slender. One cradled a datapad at his side, the other was up, scratching the back of his tousled sandy hair. He yawned as if Yuki were just another wearisome task on his to do list.

  “My name’s Agent Wade, and that gentlemen there,” he thumbed back at the doorway: a glowing brow stood there, his back against the door, rifle held across his chest, “is the man that’s been watching you for the past eight hours. We’d very much appreciate it if you would answer the questions I’m about to ask you. The sooner we get through these, the sooner we can move to the next step.”

  He spoke fast, and Yuki was scared. Her lip quivered and she folded her hands, pressing them into the table to keep them from shaking. “Wha—what’s the next step?”

  Wade’s mouth stretched open into a wide smile. It only frightened Yuki more. His canines were unusually sharp, the rest of his teeth looked as if he’d purposefully filed them down to points. It reminded Yuki of those animals she’d remembered reading about when she was a child: Sharks, she thought they were called.

  “Well,” he said, “that depends doesn’t it?” He took his time setting the datapad face up on the table as he pulled out the chair. Every movement was slow and deliberate. There was a crushing silence between the two of them. One Yuki knew wouldn’t lift until he decided he wanted to speak. He stretched back on the metal chair, flashing another smile when he was settled, this one closed; Yuki was thankful he’d spared her the teeth. “Akio Yowamushi.” He said, allowing the name to loom above them both.

  Yuki eyed the table face and was silent. Her disheveled hair shifted, covering her eyes. She made no move to tuck it back; there had to be some barrier between the two of them.

  “Where’d he go?”

  She mumbled: “I don’t know.”

  The corner of Wade’s lip twitched with impatience. He rolled his eyes, pulling his arm forward from the chair back, resting both elbows on the table as he leaned in. “But see,” he said, “I think you do.” He pulled the datapad close and manipulated the screen. Yuki peered through strands of hair, trying to get a look at it, she couldn’t, not until he spun the device around and slid it under her nose.

  Air came out of her in a clipped, ragged stutter. Bank transactions filled the screen.

  “A hefty personal transaction between you and Mr. Yowamushi only a few days ago. Why’d you give him the money? It’s not like he could run. There’s nowhere to run to." He thrust his nose inches from her face. She could feel his breath on her cheek as he waited for a response. It was quite some time before she gathered up enough courage to provide one.

  “How,” she swallowed—hard—unable to remove the lump that had worked its way into her throat, “how do you even know it was him? He wasn’t the only one in the building.”

  “No.” he said, “So were you.”

  It was a threat. Yuki brushed her hair aside, the motion accompanied by yet another clank. She took in the man that sat across from her. There was no doubt in her mind that if he didn’t get what he wanted, he’d pin everything on her. Her mind raced, plotting out the horrific landscape of the next few years of her life if she didn’t cooperate. She began to shake.

  Wade spoke up: “I know it was him because of the fingerprints littering the crime scene.” He reached for the datapad and manipulated the screen once more. “Not to mention the matching slugs between the landlord he owed and the dead officer I have in the morgue right now.” He thrust the datapad, this time with force. It hit Yuki in the chest. A clipped breath escaped her lips with the force of it.

  She only glimpsed what was on the screen, but it was enough to drive her hands to her mouth to stifle the sharp scream that came. Her eyes grew hot.

  A man’s face, handsome but plain, stared up at her. He rested on a metal slab, his bleached blonde hair matted and disheveled, the tips stained crimson. His left eye was a striking blue that didn’t seem congruent with the rest of his appearance; maybe because his other eye was a chasm of gore and fluid.

  “Most likely they’re not going to have an open casket. It’s a shame. His wife will be heartbroken when she finds out.”

  Yuki wept, “I had nothing to do with that. If I had known… anything I, I wouldn’t have…” Wouldn’t have what? She didn’t know. Her mind was too clogged with grief and regret to trace back and find exactly where her association with Akio Yowamushi had gone sour.

  “I just wanted to help him.” She said, her voice hollow. “He just seemed so helpless. I—I got him a job. Told him the advance was from the company. I didn’t want him to know that I…”

  “Loved him?” Wade cocked his eyebrow. The expression didn’t keep him from looking bored.

  Rage burned for the man on the other side of the table. She wanted to jump across, claw at anything she could tear. Instead, she merely shook her head in affirmation; surpris
ing even herself.

  “Well,” he said, “the man you love just killed two men, one of them a representative of The Authority. If you want to make sure he doesn’t join them. I’m going to need you to tell me where he is.”

  She could feel his eyes on her scalp, yet she couldn’t bring herself to look at him. She stared at the floor instead, at the clamps that bound her feet. The sight of herself chained in the place of another—of a murderer—cut through everything else. For once in her life she thought of herself first. She focused her mind, searching for the one detail, the one scrap that could actually get her out of this. “His eyes,” she said, “they were red—puffy—like they’d been bleeding.”

  The words came out low and inside. She wasn’t even sure Wade had heard them until he spoke again: “Haven.” He said, then snorted. “Computer.”

  A cool, female voice answered: “Yes, Agent Wade.” Yuki drew herself up in her chair. She could see the smug grin return to Wade’s face.

  His eyes bored into her as he issued his next command. “Give me the location of the nearest Haven Den and the name of its proprietor.”

  The computer replied. Yuki felt a hum course through the soles of the paper shoes they’d given her. The slight bass in the dispassionate voice rattled the walls as well. It was a sound that consumed the listener rather than one the listener consumed. She gripped the edge of the table as it spoke, “The nearest Haven Den is located on Fifth and Cho. The proprietor is a one Bartholomew Kutsu.”

  Wade leaned over the back of his chair and looked to the red brow guarding the door. “Kutsu?”

  “Yes, sir,” he replied, “big guy. Locals call him Plug.”

  Wade sighed, “All right, that’s probably where he’s headed. Computer: put a call through to Lee Han at AdTech.”

  “Dialing…”

  When the bag had slipped over her head, Yuki thought she knew what terror felt like. At the mention of Lee Han’s name, she realized that whatever it was she’d been feeling—trepidation, anxiety, it paled to what she was feeling now. Her jaw fell open and her green eyes hardened with fear as they bored their way through Wade. He only smiled.

  “Han, here.”

  Her heart dropped at the sound of the voice.

  “Mr. Han, Agent Fred Wade with the Authority, we’re sorry to trouble you, sir, but we have an issue that requires your attention.”

  “Go ahead, Mr. Wade.”

  “We have an armed perp, double homicide, we have reason to believe he’s headed to one of your Haven Dens on, uh…” He looked to the guard again.

  “Fifth and Cho, sir.”

  “Fifth and Cho,” he repeated. “We’re going to have to go in. Thought I’d run it past you first.”

  “I see.” Han’s voice dropped away. Yuki found herself hoping in vain that the line had been severed. “Yes, Plug’s place. We’ve gleaned all the consumer information we can get from that sector. Mr. Kutsu seems to have a penchant for allowing the subjects to abuse our systems.” The graveled bark she knew all too well took on a sinister tinge. “Shut him down,” Han said, “and shut him up.”

  “Yes, sir.” Wade said. The room was silent save for the hum that continued to course through Yuki’s manacled feet. “Mr. Han, before I let you go, I forgot to mention that we have one of your employees here with us today; a Miss Yuki Tukiko. We found her at the home of our culprit. It seems she’s been providing favors for the young man.”

  For the first time since he’d entered, Wade didn’t look bored. His grin transformed, he was baring his teeth once again. “Some of them with your company I believe. What would you like us to do with her?”

  Yuki’s grip tightened on the table. Sharp pains shot through her fingers to the point where she thought her knuckles might pop. She didn’t breath all the while she awaited Han’s reply. Her stomach wrenched when it finally came.

  “Make sure she doesn’t talk.” No sooner had the words been spoken than the line went dead. The hum ceased with the call. She suddenly felt empty.

  Yuki Tukiko prized herself on efficiency. To waste energy was pointless.

  It was why she didn’t try to run.

  Wade murmured something malicious as he stood. She didn’t hear it. Another command was issued to the glowing brow at the door. She didn’t plead as he moved toward her.

  She barely even flinched as the canvas bag slipped over her head, sealing her away from the rest of the world forever.

  CHAPTER 18

  Lightning threatened to split the world in half. Thick bolts crackled, stabbing their way through the angry, roiling black shade that obscured the true sky. Each thunderous clap caused the earth to shake with the kind of force that sent vibrations rattling through bone. Rain didn’t fall—it spewed from the sky and assaulted the pavement.

  The maelstrom composed a deafening cacophony, but one sound stood apart. Its whine should’ve been lost amongst the din, but its patient cry pierced through. Unlike the ropes of pure energy that illuminated the night, it couldn’t be seen save for the blood red blink beneath its hull.

  Akio watched the drone’s strobe as it cut through the black canvass of fog from the crevice of an alleyway. The cardboard he’d used for protection from the elements had molded from the downpour, shaping itself to his prone figure, forming a rotted cocoon that adhered to the wall and the pavement on either side of him. He didn’t dare move, for the drone or the other Authority cruisers that had made their way through the square, their sirens blaring and flashing red as they passed.

  They wouldn’t find him. He wouldn’t allow them to, not before he did what he had to do.

  He remained still until the ominous flicker disappeared. After it had gone, he allowed himself the slight craning of his neck to get a view of the alley across the street. The deep chasm was dark save for the lone light bulb that illuminated the entrance to the Haven Den; that illuminated the simple steel door that stood between him and the woman he loved.

  He’d been watching it for hours, his back protesting and his neck aching. The door had open and shut several times, welcoming another lost soul with every tease of its threshold. More than once he’d glimpsed knuckles the size of baseballs wrapping around the frame, either ushering someone in or showing them out.

  With every glimpse of Plug, Akio’s hands had tightened around the grip of Irving’s gun. He’d discharged it once through a dazed curtain. He’d discharged it again through the shocked spasm of reflex. He would discharge it once more—this time with purpose.

  But that was still to come. With every second that passed he became more anxious. He couldn’t stop shaking. At first he’d believed it to be the cold, the icy touch of the pavement on his back and the barrage of moisture at his front that caused him to shiver. But in the moments where his thirst for retribution dulled, he knew what it truly was.

  Yuki.

  His eyes burned whenever her image came to him. The memory refused to fade, scorched into his mind with the fire brand of guilt. “They’ll let her go.” He whispered, but the words meant nothing. No matter how many times he’d said them the feeling remained.

  Cognitively, he’d constructed and reviewed every scenario. Whether it was willful ignorance or naivety at the maliciousness of the Authority, he saw no way in which Yuki would bear the repercussions of his actions. It was his fingerprints they’d find scattered in Irving’s office. She’d been in their custody when he’d fired on the officer.

  When I killed the officer, he thought.

  He clasped his eyes shut. Another memory he’d been trying and failing to erase. The thought of the red brow crumpling, the violent jerk of the head, the human material that had gushed from the back, replayed in his mind over and over again.

  He hadn’t meant to do it. The officer had surprised him, reflex and instinct had taken over. It had been an accident. Yet somehow, despite the excuses, his stomach continued to twist in knots.

  In two days he’d murdered two people. He was shocked at how easy it had been. Taking a
life had been no more difficult than flipping a switch.

  The aftermath was a different story. More than once, as he lied in the gutter amongst the other abandoned things, he’d thought about turning the gun on himself; eating the cold steel tip and pulling the trigger. But the Girl wouldn’t let him. She’d come to him as he lied there. An angel visiting him in hell; a taste of bliss to come if only he’d carry out her bidding.

  Plug had to be stopped. Yuki’s capture and the deaths of Irving and the officer were on his head. If he hadn’t tempted him with the Den, if he hadn’t hurt the Girl they might still be alive. Akio might have found himself lying amongst the stars, Yuki resting in his arms, rather than here in the gutter.

  That was not to be. There was nowhere to go but here. There was nothing left but himself, Plug, and the gun. There was only one way this would end.

  The whine of hinges pierced through rain; his call to action. He rose like a man pulling himself free from the grave, the cardboard schlepping off of him and falling to the pavement with a wet slosh. He shuffled from the alleyway, his movements stiff. The gun rattled in his hand. Despite the cold rain, warmth streamed down his cheeks. He hadn’t realized he was crying.

  His view was filtered through pink. Plug was the darkest shade. He stood at the top of the stoop, observing the last user as he stumbled from the mouth of the alleyway. Akio made no attempt to conceal his approach. It was so dark he didn’t have to.

  He stepped into the light, as the user disappeared into the ether. Plug didn’t see him; he turned, allowing the door to close behind him.

  “PLUG!”

  The door stopped, then swung back open. Plug turned, his brow furrowed and his neck cocked forward. His muscles tensed, ready for whatever might come. His pupils shriveled into diamonds of hate as he zeroed in on Akio’s face.