Kim Si’s young wife, Chin Sun, came out of the apartment on the first floor and carried a plastic container. “Here, eat. You are too thin. It is just Guk. So, eat.” She motioned for her to eat, as if Hal would stop to eat whatever was in the container on the spot.
Hal smiled at the woman who was smaller than her and probably thinner. The dress was tailored to fit her perfectly and her hair slicked to a mirror black. A juxtaposition to herself as she was past the dishevelled stage and well into a wild child. There was a light of wicked intelligence in Chin Sun’s eyes. Hal was glad she had married Kim Si, who would at least appreciate intelligence in his wife.
“Thank you.” Hal took the food. Chin Sun would be offended if she didn’t take it. A glance inside told her it was some kind of soup. She tucked it under her arm and headed out after a quick bow of her head to Chin Sun and Kim Si.
Kim Si wrinkled his nose. “You will stay for dinner next time.” It wasn’t a question, instead, it was a demand.
Hal smiled and waved over her shoulder. “Sure, old man.”
The streets were cool with the evening rain. With the Weather Shield, it often rained in the afternoons when the cold temperatures outside met with the more temperate temperatures in the Shield. She glanced at the large tower that pierced the sky. It was visible from anywhere in the city. Built almost twenty years ago at great sacrifice as the city had still been amid its third civil war. The city, tired of its people dying, pulled away from its country and declared itself independent and called themselves Whatinga. Over a thousand workers had worked while wearing bulletproof vests to complete the tower. On top of the tower was the platform where the Shield grew from. Literally, as it was some kind of plant. Some scientist had discovered it in the Waitomo caves.
Shadows lengthened to hide most of the street, so Hal picked up her speed as lights flickered on. It had taken longer than she had thought to install the water pressure gadget. When she could, Hal avoided being out after curfew.
Footsteps behind her went into sync with her own and made her heart beat a little faster. Using the reflection of a shop window across the street, Hal spotted three men following her. They were typical young thugs in hard-wearing clothes and some head covering easily used to hide their features. They had already pulled them down over their faces in preparation of an attack.
One gestured to the others and they split up. Her hand tightened on the hot soup. Just as one went to grab her, she spun around and threw the soup into the face of the follower directly behind her. Screaming, he placed his hands on his face. She finished him by kicking him in his head when he bowed over in pain. He crumpled to the ground, unconscious. The other two closed in. One grabbed her arm and twisted her around. Pain shot up through her shoulder and she had to bite back a groan.
He put his arm around her throat, cutting off her breath, which burned up through her lungs. The other came in front of her and asked, “Where is the laser?”
“What laser?” she rasped out past the arm restricting her air.
She tried her dumb blonde act and batted her eyelashes. The men just glared at her. So obviously that would not work. Not that it had ever worked for her, though she had watched her mother try it and it always seemed to work for her.
Hal knew exactly what he talked about. She should never have made the plasma gun in the first place. The layman often thought it was like a flamethrower or a laser. It was neither, but she didn’t think these thugs wanted a science lesson.
Hal had taken too long to answer and the two men growled. The man in front of her punched her in the stomach and asked again, “Where is the laser?” The punch shoved the last of the air out of her lungs.
The edges of her vision went dark. She squirmed and wriggled. Her free hand fishing in her pocket for the personal protection device she had just seen in there. She wished now that her pockets weren’t so cursedly deep. Stabbing herself twice with a small screwdriver before she could wedge the disk-shaped device out of her pocket.
It slipped into her hand and with no hesitation. She pressed it to the man behind her. The protection devices were like mini Taser guns with almost twice the zap. They were some of her first explorations with the atramento designs for machines. The thing that made this one different was that it only shocked the person it touched as it interacted with their aura rather than their electrical processes.
The man holding her jerked and opened his mouth in a silent scream, then collapsed to the ground. She leapt forward and pressed it to the other man before he realised she was now armed and dangerous. Fear flickered in his eyes, then firmed to a mixture of hate and anger. He staggered away from her, but not far enough that he didn’t get a bit of the zap. She didn’t stick around to see if he was out of the picture.
She ran. Pain stabbing through her as her body protested the movement when she had clearly been compromised.
A loud bang and a burning fire in her side made her stagger. Her hands slapped on the rough concrete of the building as she rounded the corner while other loud barks of a gun followed her. Running, she kept her hand pressed to her side. She ran three blocks before she slowed to a stumbling gait. Spots floated in her vision and her lungs burned more than the bullet wound.
Slumped in a doorway, she looked down at her side and back the way she had come. No one followed her, but because she was bleeding, she needed to get off the street. Studying the wound, she watched as the bullet squeezed out and tinkled as it fell to the ground. Swearing softly, that shouldn’t have happened. When she had first done tests on the healing atramento it had barely healed her cancer. It seemed the effect was accumulative. She would have to do some testing.
Shaking her head, she focused on her surroundings. Now wasn’t the time to design a new experiment. She had to find someone where safe to bunker down while she recovered.
She stared at the bullet before she scooped it up and slipped it into her pocket.
Dizzy and disorientated, she needed to focus on what was important: finding a safe place.
Still several blocks from home, Hal had run in the opposite direction. Going home was out of the question, as she was sure the men would go to her place next. She didn’t have many friends she could go to for help. She thought about going back to Kim Si but the men had followed her from there and she couldn’t figure out a way to double back while avoiding her attackers.
Hal stared at the apartment across the street. Misha lived there. He had spoken of it while she had put in the strength atramento last week. At least he wasn’t likely to freak out with her landing on his doorstep covered in blood. Considering he accompanied a gang member when she had met him, he was probably even used to people arriving at his place with gunshot wounds. She stumbled across the street.
The apartment building had clearly seen better days. It wasn’t very tall, as this area of the world was prone to earthquakes. Even one set of stairs was beyond her at the moment. There was a single elevator at the back of the lobby area. The silver of the stainless steel doors had numerous dents and finger prints. Leaning on the wall, she pressed the button to go up. Groaning with relief when the elevator worked with a soft ping noise. She had dreaded the thought of climbing any stairs with her wound. The atramento might be healing it, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t painful.
Hal shivered with shock as she knocked. Blood dripped down her side in a warm trickle. She leaned her other hand on the door while she waited. Glancing up, she sighed with relief when she saw she hadn’t left a bloody handprint on his door frame.
The door opened with a jerk and Misha went still when he saw her.
She mumbled, “I’m sorry to bother you, but I don’t know where else to go.”
To explain she took her hand away from the gunshot wound and showed the bright red blood on her hand. He swore in Russian and dragged her into the apartment. The sudden movement made the edges of her vision go black for a second. She took a few deep breaths.
It was a surprisingly nice apartment. Not what she wo
uld have thought for a bachelor. Although he had spoken well of his mother, maybe she had taught him other skills. It wasn’t large a large place and the furniture, though neat and tidy, were worn and well patched. The lounge area opened to a small kitchen area where there was a table and four chairs, though none of them matched. He had gone to some effort to make the place nicer by painting all the chairs the same colour.
Misha pushed her into a chair in the kitchen. The top stuck to her in a way that made her squirm. She needed to get it away from the wound before it dried and stuck to it. In contrast to Misha, she was a terrible housekeeper and she knew the issue of letting things dry when you really shouldn’t. Misha disappeared into one of the other rooms. Probably to get her something to clean up with.
She wriggled out of her top and screwed up her face in pain. Fire ran down her side as she worked the tee-shirt over one arm then the other. She gasped for breath in a futile effort to breathe through the pain. Finally, it went back to the steady fiery stab in her side. Wrinkling her nose at the now red and white T-shirt, she placed it on the floor because Misha might have taboos about having bloody things on a table he ate at.
Misha returned with the first aid kit. He paused when he saw what she had done and hissed. “Silly girl. We could have cut that off. What the heck happened?”
She shook her head; she did not want to explain. Dizzy, she couldn’t think very well. She must be worse off than she thought as she didn’t notice him closing the space between them. He knelt next to her. Peeling back her hand, he swore. “This is a gunshot wound.”
“Yeah, otherwise I would have called the ambulance. The bullet is out so just slap on—”
She winced and lost her train of thought as he started to clean out the wound.
He paused. “I can see it healing.”
She glanced down and it was looking better already. She lightly touched the atramento on her cheek. “Yeah, I forgot about that. Must have built up a lot of chi to work that fast. Be quick though, it’s a tad painful.” When he gave her a look she added, “I’m fine.”
“You’re darn lucky, is what you are.”
He muttered under his breath the rest. He peeled a sterilised pad out of its packaging. She watched his strong hands. His muscles moved gracefully even with such a simple task as opening a package.
“How has the atramento worked for you?”
He hesitated and gazed up at her. “Is that what it’s called?”
He shook the packaging free of the sterilised pad. Gingerly, he placed it on her wound. It instantly turned red. Maybe she wasn’t doing as well as she thought.
“Well, it does have a name, I just call them all atramento. You should see what I do with machine atramento, those are spectacular.”
She winced again as he put pressure on the gauze over the wound.
Without looking up he asked, “Can you get me one of those?”
When she didn’t answer straight away he looked up as he applied pressure. Waving to the atramento on her cheek when she just stared at him with confusion.
She smiled. “Like the other atramento, do you?”
He peeled the gauze away and she glanced down when he gasped. The blood had stopped. He peeled open another pad and this one stayed white when he put it on. Taping it on, he stepped back.
“I pushed a moving vehicle the other day.” He announced with a hollow voice.
“Yeah?”
“It made me feel bulletproof.” Awe tinged his voice and she realised the hollow tone was more from the wonder of the atramento. She could appreciate that. As she had her own miracle when it came to the atramento.
She said, “Probably, if you take into account; velocity versus mass. Though it depleted your chi, you haven’t been able to store much.”
She glanced at her shirt and wrinkled her nose. She decided it was better to sit in her bra than to try to put her shirt back on. Staring at the overalls for too long as her mind was sluggish. Those were covered with blood as well. She wriggled out of those and sat on the chair in her panties and bra. Still dizzy, she had to suck in a breath to stop the white spots in her eyes.
He caught her shoulder and asked, “You all right?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”
Grunting, he surprised her by scooping her up in his arms and carried her to the bedroom. It was dark and cozy. Just how she thought his bedroom would be. Her thoughts went hazy for a while as she wondered when she had thought about his bedroom and why.
Pulling the blankets over her, he tucked her in. “Rest. You are pale.”
She didn’t argue and curled up in the bed. She liked how his scent clung to the pillow and buried her nose. He smoothed her hair away from her face and then left her. She fell asleep quickly, which told her she was definitely worse off than she thought.
Chapter Three
Whatinga: April 2086
Halcyon came into the main room wearing one of his button-up shirts. Sexy as heck. Though petite she had muscular legs.
He motioned to a glass of water on the table. Sitting in the other chair she wrapped her hands around the glass and mumbled a thank you. Her hair stood at interesting angles. Pausing her drinking, she smoothed it down into some semblance of order. He watched all of this with a small smile on his lips.
Retrieving the sandwich, he had made for her out of the fridge, he placed it in front of her. “How are you feeling?”
“A little groggy. The fast healing has taken it out of me.”
Her appearance made him very aware she had just rolled out of bed. He imagined other things she could have done in that bed.
His bed.
He had slept on the couch, though sleeping wasn’t what he would call it. The old thing had a spring that poked into his kidney every time he shifted.
“Are you ready to tell me what happened?”
Taking a sip of the water before she said, “I’m not entirely sure. Some guys jumped me on the street and when I fought back and tried to run, they shot me. I kind of, well, I used one of my atramento machines on them and they let me go. I ran after that. I don’t think they’re up to answering my questions even if they wanted to.” She kept her gaze down and a blush stained her cheeks.
She lied or at least kept something from him. He would let her have her secrets for the moment.
“I put your clothes in the wash, but they won’t be ready for a while.”
He motioned to the clothes he had hung out on the balcony. Without a tumble dryer, as she did at her place, he had to make do. He didn’t have the power rations for anything like that. He even got to the point where he had a small gas stove because he ran through his rations often enough. This place was nice, and more importantly cheap, but one of the downsides of it was that the apartment came with a tiny water and power ration.
She glanced at her clothes and asked, “Is it all right if I crash here for today?”
The t-shirt was probably a write-off as it still showed a brown stain where there was blood now embedded into the weave. The overalls were hardier and had a hydrophobic component to them that resisted stains. She could always wear one of his shirts with the overalls.
Misha shrugged; he wouldn’t mind having her around longer. Even if he did have to sleep on the couch again.
Halcyon stopped though when she had her sandwich in her mouth and took it out to say, “Ah, only one room and only one bed. I’m not keeping you from sleep, am I?”
He risked a cheeky answer, “As long as you don’t mind company, we can share the bed.”
She said, “Sweet as.” Finally taking the bite into her sandwich.
He stared at her for a minute until he realised she did not understand he had meant that as something else.
Yeah, she had no idea how hot she was.
It wasn’t the fact that she was wearing his clothes either, though that was a bonus. She was even cute when she worked. While working she often had her head down, muttering to herself. If he listened carefully, she usually recited al
l the steps in the process.
He wouldn’t mind having her around at all. He’d walk her to her place in the morning so he could be sure she didn’t get into any more trouble along the way.
___
When they approached Hal’s place, there were several black SUV’s outside. Blue and red lights flashed in the darkness, throwing eerie shadows on the apartment buildings across the street from her place. As she stood there to take all of it in, several men in dark clothes took out a large battering ram and she jolted into movement.
“Hey, wait, WAIT. I have the code, I’ll let you in.”
She ran up to the men, waving her hands in the air to get their attention.
A man in a well-tailored suit and a thin black tie stepped in between her and the men with the battering ram. He had a very square face and broad shoulders, though he wasn’t as large as Misha. He was at least in his forties and his face showed the wrinkles. Though, she bet he could have avoided a few if he didn’t frown so much. He had a pink scar under his chin and his hair parted in a strange way that told her he had other scars hidden beneath the locks.
Scars weren’t uncommon in the older generation. He was young enough he probably fought in the last war. He slipped his hands into his pockets.
He asked, “Are you Halcyon Smith?”
“Yeah, yeah. I take it you have a warrant.”
She leaned sideways as she tried to see around him to the other Enforcers and what they were doing at the gate of her building.
He dug out the warrant from an inside pocket. Flicking it open with a practised motion of his hand, he flashed a piece of paper. She assumed it was legit, not that she had anything to hide.
“I’m Enforcer Harold. We would like to inspect your premises.”
His voice was dark as midnight. A flick of her bioware showed her he was more than the midnight voice. Emotion ran deep in him but was curled neatly and concisely within him. This was a man of calm nature but also of deep feelings.
Hal used this insight to tailor her response to him and decided casual and humour was the way to go. “Quit with the flirting and I’ll let you in. I don’t want you breaking the locks. Then anyone could get in.”
Halcyon's Hero (Atramento Book 1) Page 3