Shadow Fray

by Bradley Lloyd

  “You drugged me, didn’t you?”

  “Justin, focus.”

  “God dammit, Gin.” He wanted to be angry with her, but did he have the energy? After he left that cement box of an Arena last night, she had fallen into step beside him. He’d nearly slugged her, someone coming up to him in the shadows like that. She’d had the gun leveled at him—not to shoot him, of course, but to say she had the situation under control and she didn’t give a fuck what Justin said about it. He tried to tell her how stupid it was to leave Charlie home alone, how stupid it was to hang outside a building for an hour where she could show up on a drone feed. On the way home, they had stuck to cover, the trees and scrub along the lake, the shadows of the buildings, the parking garages. It hadn’t taken long—their rise was literally a dozen buildings away from the Arena. They hadn’t heard a single drone, and even if they had, the night imaging was imperfect at best, at least in Milwaukee. It wasn’t like in Chicago, where drone feeds were used to prosecute even the smallest of crimes with hefty fines.

  “Justin.” Ginny snapped her fingers and frowned. She got down on the floor by his bedside and took hold of his hand. “What do we tell Ray?”

  Justin was supposed to make a run down to Chicago today, but even in the safety of a truck, it was too easy for someone to spot his specific facial injury. It would be visible through the rig’s windows—not to mention the people he may have to interact with at the different stops.

  “How many views does it have?” Justin asked.

  “It’s pushing two hundred million.”

  “Jesus. In eight hours?” There were fifty million people left in the country. Two hundred million views this quick was unheard of. Those were Black Jim numbers. That meant repeat views and a whole lot of international attention. “What did I do?”

  She squeezed his hand. “One thing at a time. The first thing we deal with is Ray. It won’t be a problem, whatever we tell him, but we have to decide what’s best.”

  Gin was right that Ray wasn’t a bad guy, and he was a fantastic boss. Even if he knew, he probably wouldn’t snitch. Ray was going to have to drive Justin’s shipment today—a truck full of condoms. Gin had gotten Justin the job several years ago. She’d been in the business of condom-making and distribution since she turned sixteen. And the side businesses that went along with it.

  “Do we say you got jumped, need some time off? Do we say you’re sick? Charlie’s sick?” Sickness wasn’t something anyone took lightly, though everyone still got sick. Maybe if they blamed it on an STD, but in their business, that didn’t go over well either. And he could only use the excuse of being jumped so many times.

  Justin heard the softest shuffling sound from outside the door. He frowned. “Bro Bro, you might as well come in.” The door slowly opened, and Charlie had his wide-eyed angel face on, with a smile at his lips. Jesus, what he wouldn’t do for that kid. Justin held his arm out, wincing at the tightness in his ribs, and Charlie came right to him, thrilled to be in their exclusive powwow. Justin guessed he wasn’t doing Charlie any favors by protecting him. The world was what it was. Better Charlie learn to deal with it.

  “Char,” Justin said, leveling his gaze and speaking low. “I have an idea, but we need your help. With my face like this, I can’t be seen for a while. It’s too dangerous.” Charlie nodded, serious. “I think the best thing we can do is to use you as our excuse. Do you want to stay home with me for a few days? I mean, not go out, not at all?” Charlie smiled and nodded again. “I don’t want to say I’m sick. I don’t want to say you’re sick, not exactly. But I do want to say you’re having problems. That you’re going through a… spell.” Charlie frowned. It had been a couple years since his last spell. His whole life he’d never spoken except in his sleep, but he still communicated—save for a few stretches where he’d just sit vacantly. He wouldn’t drink. He wouldn’t eat. It would go on for days, and it was fucking scary. Justin hated bringing it up; it wasn’t something they talked about, as if ignoring the problem would make it go away. Gin frowned at him now, like she didn’t think this was such a good idea.

  Justin spoke directly to her next. “This is the best idea. Ray knows Charlie. He’ll buy this. And if it turns out I need more time, then we can say I got jumped. That I did something stupid because we were getting desperate.” She nodded.

  Justin wasn’t comfortable with this either, but he did have to sell it. “Bro Bro,” he said, looking again at Charlie. “We’re including you in this. We’re including you in all our plans from now on, okay?” Charlie got his smile back and nodded. “I need you to promise me something, though. If we need your help, like we do now, we need to be able to count on you. That means you need to be here for us. You can’t go back to how you used to be, not ever again. This is pretend. Is that understood?” That’s what his mother used to say when she was serious, although Charlie would have no recollection. Charlie nodded, and Justin saw the determination in his eyes. “Pinky swear.”

  Charlie clasped his little finger with Justin’s.

  “Whole family,” Gin said and did the same. Then all three of them fist-bumped together.

  “So,” Gin said, putting on a patently false, cheerful voice. “Charlie is suicidal. Can’t be left alone.” She took off Charlie’s hat and ruffled his buzz cut before putting it back on. “Thanks, Char.” Her smile turned genuine, and Justin smiled in turn. He could always count on Gin. Even when he shouldn’t have to.

  “Charlie Bro, go find some cartoons. I need a distraction. We’ll camp out on the couch.”

  Charlie lit up like Christmas and practically bounded out of the room.

  Gin put her hand to Justin’s cheek, the uninjured one. “You want me to send a girl over? You damn well earned it. Better than any painkiller.”

  Part of him welcomed the mind-numbing distraction of it. He could tune out the world for a few minutes. “No,” he said. “Not this time. It’s not worth the risk.”

  Gin nodded, though whoever she’d send would likely never talk. He grabbed her hand before she could get up, keeping it on his cheek. “Just promise me one thing.”

  “Anything.”

  “Promise me you’ll never leave Charlie alone again.” She certainly saw through his motive, knew it would effectively mean she could never follow him to another Shadow Fray again.

  She nodded, kissed him on the forehead, and got up to go. He heard the TV in the other room, heard her saying good-bye to Charlie. Then he heard the front door shut.

  Justin lay in bed for a few minutes with nothing but his pain.

  Chapter 3

  FACING A nearly empty gym in his building during his shift, Hale had been watching coverage of last night’s Fray all morning on a computer from his desk station. The numbers it was racking up were beyond impressive and would no doubt surpass his own. The crime scene continued to be big news. Everyone knew about Shadow Fray, but this level of exposure was unprecedented. There had never been a death anyone knew about, let alone a murder. That’s where the strategy came in. A death wouldn’t be news, but a murder? The bosses were smart.

  Or were they? Their anonymity was threatened by the coverage—unless they controlled the media. News was really just a composition, an orchestra, with the bosses the conductors. Speculation abounded about the sport—where it came from, its likely ties to organized crime, and what the police were going to do.

  Of course the police would do very little, especially up in Milwaukee where law enforcement was lax. In fact, so many Frays were held there it had come to be known as Bruise City, a throwback to a long dead moniker about beer. Shadow Frays were always held in a different Shadow Arena—never the same one twice—and took place all over the country, but the vast majority were north of Chicago, with Bruise City a convenient trek. No Frays were ever held in the White Windy City, last bastion of the Old World. That whole notion of the White Windy City was, of course, bullshit. Chicago had more money, and therefore less violent crime, but it was far from civilized and far f
rom what it was like in the Old World before the Thinning.

  Anyway, the news reports didn’t concern Hale. Mostly he had been watching the kid. He didn’t have a name, so the media began referring to him as “the Visitor,” and the name was probably going to stick.

  From what Hale could see, the kid had earned a name.

  Last night’s fight wasn’t the Visitor’s first Fray, and Hale was now intimately familiar with all three of his matches. The first was a loss, and it was pathetic. Clearly the kid was so shit-scared that he didn’t know how to handle himself. Decent skills but no clue about his environment, which in this case was an old abandoned factory. His opponent gave him the slip in the opening minutes only to drop on him from a catwalk. The Visitor fought well for a while, but then he got backed into machinery and cornered. The other guy used the surroundings to launch himself in the air and kick the kid in the face. The Visitor had finally been put in a choke hold when his opponent hung from a pipe and wrapped his legs around the kid’s neck until he passed out. It was over way too quickly. At least he’d scared the other guy into not prolonging the fight, but it wasn’t good for views.

  After that the kid had been absent for almost a year, which wasn’t surprising considering the beating he’d taken. However, about six months ago, someone had given him another chance.

  Hale tapped his screen to run the second fight and tapped again to pull up a grid view on all twenty cameras to play simultaneously. This time the Arena was a drained pool, probably in an old high school. The Visitor fought desperately but much smarter, and Hale found himself mesmerized. The opponent was never really in the game. The Visitor used the sloping gradient of the pool to his advantage, incline and gravity adding power to his moves or quickness to his steps.

  The twenty grid was too small, so Hale tapped his screen again to pull up a row of four. He loved being able to see the same move from so many different angles, to see how the Visitor’s left bicep popped before a punch and at the same time watch how his back muscles corded through the blow.

  The Visitor fought shirtless, and he was a thing of beauty.

  He was big, but not overly so. Maybe six feet two. He was also broad—not as broad as Benz but broad like a swimmer. How had he achieved that? Good genes? Even Hale didn’t have access to a pool large enough to train in. Maybe the kid had money—though Uppers didn’t fight.

  The rest of his body was clearly the result of a lot of hard work. He had a very distinguished V-shape on narrow but well-muscled hips. Hale paused the video as he got a good frontal view of the Visitor walking under a light, and was amazed that his abs actually cast little shadows. He had big thighs and bulging calves. God, those legs—this guy was strong.

  Hale couldn’t help but wonder how he’d compare. Pushing six feet, he would be on the shorter end of their matchup, but that often worked to his advantage. While the kid was fast, Hale knew he was faster, making Hale the harder target and a force to be reckoned with. He had spent a lot of time over the years fine-tuning every last muscle; he was balanced and evenly developed. Hale would probably have the kid beat if they got into a full-body flexing contest—except for the biceps, quads, and calves—all the important good-looking muscles. He frowned. That was probably why he was lusting over those areas.

  Hale watched as the Visitor’s numbers on the newest fight continued to go up. In fact, numbers were going up all over the system, Hale’s included. Everyone was going to get a payout. Internationally this was an example of the new violent America, the Old West reborn. He had a feeling the real show was just beginning.

  The Visitor was a great showman too. He’d clearly drawn out the fight. What did he look like without the mask? The leather fastened around his head, but his coffee-colored hair was free and his mouth and jawline exposed. The kid kept his mouth relaxed but his jaw forward and determined. In this game, Hale supposed most men ended up battered and grotesque—himself excluded, of course. Hopefully, under that mask the Visitor’s unmarred face would look young yet roguish and innocent with a touch of danger. At least that’s the impression Hale got from the way the guy fought—he totally wasn’t fantasizing, not at all.

  Hale flinched when his wife’s sister sat down. He hadn’t been paying attention.

  “You can’t stop watching it, can you?” Jess asked and smiled, nodding toward his computer. Why would she smile at that?

  “No,” Hale admitted, checking his emotions. They frequently butted heads, but that was to be expected, being that Hale was her husband’s best friend and she was the only mother Hale’s daughter had ever known. Considering that twisted mess, they did okay. Hale never argued with her, not outright, and they maintained a cordial coolness at all times. “Why’d you come down here, Jess?” She used the gym but never when Hale was working.

  She sighed, glancing nervously over at the two men lifting weights. She spoke softly. “I guess I’m just checking up on you. Benz talked to me before he finally went to bed, and I wanted you to know I respect your decision to keep fighting.”

  Hale nodded. There wasn’t much to say. They sat in silence for a time.

  “What would you think if I moved out of here?” he asked at last.

  “What?” Her tone was sharp. Often her first reaction to anything Hale had to say was to get offended. “What about your daughter?”

  And now, Hale would have to talk her down. “I’d be doing it for her. I can slum it on the ground. This whole thing has made me realize this money isn’t going to last forever. I’m not going to last forever. Any little bit I can save, you know?”

  Jess nodded. The look in her eyes made it seem like she hadn’t considered this scenario before. Impossible. Now he knew she was acting. They weren’t rolling in money. Their money was new money, and living in relative luxury and safety in the exclusive Chixago Building came with a price—a high one. The pittance he made working in the gym was nothing. People didn’t work in this building to make money. People with money worked to keep the building self-contained so they wouldn’t have to go outside. From their own solar panels, their own water purification system, to their own gardens, their rise was as self-sufficient as possible. Jess knew they were Uppers in this city only as long as the real paychecks kept coming.

  “Where would you go?” she asked at last.

  “I have no idea. Could you keep your ears open in the market? Maybe ask around and see if anyone has connections somewhere?” She worked in the grocery on this same floor whenever she could, whenever Benz or Hale was around to watch Eddie.

  “Where is Eddie, by the way?” Hale asked abruptly, realizing he’d skipped lunch entirely and it was already afternoon. How long had he been lost in those videos? Eddie should be done with school by now, just one floor above them.

  “She’s in the grocery. I left her with Sam for a minute. Said I wanted to stop in and drop off lunch for you.” With this she picked up a cloth bag he hadn’t seen on the floor and dropped it on his desk.

  “Thanks.”

  “You know you can come see her any time if you decide to leave. You can stay over sometimes.” They both knew that would be difficult. Building security kept tabs on everyone who came in and out and frowned on overnight guests. Owners didn’t want it to become a slum. Hale guessed he would have some leeway since he had lived here and knew people, but how long would that last?

  “Hale,” Jess said, suddenly looking uncomfortable. “I want you to know….” She paused, struggling. “It’s hard for me to say thank you—mostly because I don’t owe you any fucking thanks.” At this, Hale nodded. He agreed. “But I see you split fifty-fifty with Benz, though you don’t have to. And I know you save for Edna. I know you love her.” Hale nodded again. “You’ve cleaned up your act. I can never forgive you for Janie. I’m not going to say thank you for behaving like a man. But with how things are going, I wanted you to know what I see.”

  Wow. That’s more than he’d ever gotten from Jess. Looking at her now, he saw Janie. The sisters shared the same blon
de hair and blue eyes. Even the shape of Jess’s face reminded him of Janie. He always consciously tried to shut that out, but maybe it was the little bit of sympathy she was showing him that triggered the association.

  “But….” And now her features hardened up again. He should have seen this coming. “Things are getting dangerous. Deadly. After last night… if they found you, or if someone came after you, who’s to say Edna wouldn’t be a target?” In that moment, Hale knew this whole conversation had been a manipulation.

  She looked him dead in the eyes, and all traces of Janie were gone. “I really do think it would be best if you left us. Best for Edna.”

  Hale swallowed his anger and nodded. “I agree with you.” He wanted to think the small smile she gave him in response was one of compassion, but it could very well be relief.

  She shifted in her seat. “I have to go get Edna.”

  “Thanks again for the lunch,” Hale said, unable to keep an edge from his voice. She pursed her lips and got up to leave. “And Jess,” he added before she could go, “Benz told me about a place this morning. It might just be for people at his club, but ask him for me, okay?”

  She relaxed her expression and nodded before turning and walking away.

  He left the bag sitting on his desk. He wasn’t hungry. “Hey—Bobby, Trey!” he called to the two men currently lifting weights in the gym. “When you’re done, could one of you give me a little break at the desk and one of you spot me?”

  He closed the browser on the computer. It wasn’t illegal to watch Shadow Fray, but it suddenly felt safer if no one saw him watching it. “Sure thing, Hale,” said Bobby.

  Hale made a conscious effort not to work out in the gym more than anyone else. He mostly did cardio and kept the weight training private, but he wanted the pain that came from lifting. “I got a little steam I need to blow off, if you know what I mean.”

  Bobby gave him a knowing nod. “Women,” he said. “Sometimes I think it’s better that there’s fewer of them in the world now.”