05 - Changeling

by Chris Kubasik - (ebook by Undead)

  Peter crawled on his belly to the door, then flopped over on his back and spun around so he was feet-first toward it. Shifting slightly, he was just a bit to the side of the door.

  Everything fell silent as the combatants on either side of the door waited for the other to make a move. Peter’s breath rolled in and out of his body. He tried to calm down, telling himself he wasn’t nervous, but he didn’t buy it.

  Soft footsteps moved around outside the door.

  Someone touched the door knob; its metal conducted the body heat and turned a dim pink. Peter knew whoever it was would be more careful now—the man was crouched low or tucked off to the side.

  Any second. Any second.

  The door shattered open.

  Through the shards of wood came Bub, a thick-muscled ork from The Crew. Regret filled Peter even as he raised his foot and slammed it into Bub’s forward-falling knee. The knee snapped with a horrible crack and Bub fell to the ground with a shrill scream.

  Outside the door Peter saw blood splattered along the wall from the shots he’d taken earlier.

  Yoake stepped into the doorway, his eyes scanning the room while the submachine gun gripped in his hands followed the path of his eyes. It was only the slightest movement on Peter’s part, but it caught the man’s attention. By that time it was too late, for Peter had his gun up and had fired three times into Yoake’s chest.

  The gangster’s body went tight, his finger pulling on the trigger as he fell back out into the hall. A spray of bullets ripped into the ceiling, and then the gun went silent.

  Peter tried breathing and found his body still worked. Amazing. There had been such a racket in the last few seconds that he almost thought he’d died somewhere in mere.

  His next-door neighbor pounded on the wall and screamed, “Shut that racket up!”

  Peter looked over at Kathryn and shrugged. “My neighbors don’t understand my work.”

  “Neither do I.” She got up off the floor, making sure to avoid a line-of-sight through the window. “Do we run and get shot at now?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes.” He smiled and slapped a new mag in his pistol. His discomfort around her had evaporated. He was doing what he’d spent a dozen years doing. She was out of her league. She needed him.

  He stepped over to the table and scooped up his My Cure chips and slipped them into one pocket. Then he went to peek through the door out into the hall.

  Eddy’s head poked out from the top of the stairs at the landing down the hall. Drops of blood covered his face. He held a gun in his hand, but it shook terribly.

  “Eddy. I don’t have time to frag around now!” Peter shouted. “Understand?”

  15

  “You shouldn’t have taken shouldn’t have taken shouldn’t have taken the slot, Profezzur. You know? Shouldn’t have.”

  Peter stepped into the doorway. With his left hand he motioned for Kathryn to join him. Eddy raised the gun higher, but didn’t point it at Peter.

  “Just kill her, Prof. Geek her and everything’ll be all right. I’ll make up a lie. Just like before. We’ll make up a shag together.”

  When Kathryn was behind him, Peter shouted, “No, Eddy. I’m getting out now. I think I’ve got it figured out. This is what I’ve been doing all this for. To become a human again. I think I’ve got it. I’m going to get out.”

  “No. Peter. No. Please, don’t. They… they don’t need me anymore. I’m shot. They know it. I know it. They know it. There’s nothing left. Look.” He raised his arm. It shook wildly. “They’re only keeping me around ’cause of you. If you go… Peter…”

  What Eddy said was undoubtedly true. Peter had heard some of the thugs at The Crew wondering aloud about Eddy, though Peter had, of course, feigned ignorance and disinterest.

  But he couldn’t stay in the biz just for Eddy. “Get out with me.”

  “No. No. What am I gonna do?”

  Peter heard the glass shatter on the lobby door down the stairs. Behind him, through the window, came the sound of creaking metal: someone was climbing up the fire escape.

  Kathryn was at Peter’s back, hidden around the corner of the doorway. “Stay behind me,” he told her. Masked by his massive frame and long duster, she would be nearly invisible to anyone in front of them.

  Walking carefully down the hall, he moved toward Eddy.

  “Come with me. Come with me or run. But Eddy, I don’t want to be in this anymore. This isn’t what I was supposed to be doing. I hate it. And I’m only doing it because I’m a troll. The only reason I didn’t slit my wrists with a can opener was because I thought I could figure out how to stop being a troll. This is what my whole life is about.”

  “That’s very depressing,” said Kathryn.

  “Try being a troll,” he retorted. “That’ll get you down…”

  “What are you whispering about!” screamed Eddy. He pointed the gun as best he could at Peter, who was now only about three meters away. An accidental pull of the trigger at just the right moment could slam the lead home.

  Peter let himself look down the corridor, which turned right a few steps from where he stood, leading to the back stairs and the laundry room.

  “What the frag are you looking at!” Eddy screamed. He stood up, his entire body shaking. Blood soaked his right shoulder, where Peter’s bullet had hit him through the door. Beads of sweat rolled down his face. “Where’s the bitch?”

  “I really don’t like this guy,” Peter heard Kathryn whisper, while someone from downstairs called out, “Eddy?”

  When Eddy turned to glance down the stairs, Peter shouted, “NOW!”

  Kathryn broke for the corridor.

  Howling like a banshee, Eddy brought up his gun, squeezing off two shots that slammed into the hall’s cheap plaster wall behind Kathryn.

  With no thought for the consequences, Peter jumped forward and slammed his hand into Eddy’s wrist to knock away the gun. When the blow hit, it was with a sharp, cracking sound.

  Eddy screamed wildly and brought his hand up to his chest. The blood gushed wildly. With his good arm he cradled the damaged hand like a baby. Peter could see me white of bone piercing the torn and ragged flesh of Eddy’s wrist.

  “Eddy,” Peter stammered, “I’m…”

  “Shut the frag up! I never did anything to you. I just wanted the slot! I’m your friend!”

  Gun shots sounded behind Peter. He whirled and saw the gunman, some kid he’d seen around but had yet to meet till now. Peter decided it wasn’t worth firing back. Without a look back at Eddy, he raced down the corridor after Kathryn.

  “Peter!” Eddy shouted after him. “Peter, please!”

  As Peter passed through the doorway to the stairs, he turned and squeezed off three random shots to hold everyone back. Then he bounded down the stairs, jumping from one landing to the next, his duster flapping wildly behind him. The old floorboards creaked terribly under his weight.

  Hitting the first floor, he saw Kathryn entering the laundry room down the hall. He followed her in, then quietly closed the door behind him.

  The dim red light of the exit sign over the door to the alley illuminated Kathryn. She stood supporting herself with one hand on the wall, breathing heavily, the heat of her body shimmering in Peter’s vision.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Well, I’m a slightly out-of-shape executive who’s not used to running from bullets. And I’m pregnant, so you might say I’m feeling the strain right now.”

  Peter did a double-take. “You’re what?”

  “I’m a slightly out-of-shape—”

  “No, no, no. The… You’re pregnant?”

  She looked up into his face, her tough edge gone. “Yes. I’m carrying my son.”

  “Your son…”

  “Look, aren’t they going to come kill us or something?”

  “I was going to kill you. You didn’t tell me.”

  “Would it have made a difference?”

  Peter paused, flummoxed. Strange crite
ria. “You’ll kill an innocent woman, but not if she’s carrying a fetus.”

  “You’re not innocent. You let my… Dr. Clarris leave Cell Works and you’re throwing your own people off the trail.”

  She smiled. “True. But, really, aren’t we going to die if we don’t move?”

  “Yes. But I wanted to wait long enough for everyone outside the building to get fidgety.” Peter crossed to the door. “With any luck they’ll all have rushed in before we rush out.”

  He tried to open the door carefully, but it stuck, and he had to force it. The door made a great grinding noise as he forced it open.

  He peeked out.

  Arinori stood just next to the door, his gun pointed into Peter’s face.

  Peter’s heart sank. So close…

  Suddenly he had become Jenkins.

  Peter put on his stupid face. “Hello, Arinori.”

  “Hey, Profezzur. Word is you’re even dumber than we thought. Where’s the meat?”

  “I don’t know. She ran away.”

  “Drek. Out of the way. And drop your piece on the floor.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Peter spotted Kathryn moving around to the doorway, carefully keeping out of Arinori’s line-of-sight. Peter put on an expression of great embarrassment and said, “I’m sorry, Arinori. She was just so pretty. I just thought, you know…”

  “That ain’t your concern, trog.”

  Peter dropped his gun to the floor and backed up. “Don’t call me trog, Arinori. It ain’t nice.”

  Arinori entered the room cautiously, looking first right then left. As he turned in Kathryn’s direction, he caught a glimpse of her and brought his gun to bear. Peter leaped forward and slammed his hand down on Arinori’s arm. The gun fired and a bullet slammed into a dryer. Arinori whirled toward Peter, but Peter slammed him in the rib cage. As the man doubled over with a loud cry, Peter brought his knee up into his face. Arinori’s nose turned into a fleshy smear of blood.

  Arinori fell over, unconscious. Peter saw Kathryn staring down at the man, then look up with an expression of horror. She stared at his face, and Peter imagined how he must look through her eyes: a terrible creature… rough flesh… long, heavy teeth.

  For an instant Peter almost wanted to apologize. Then he realized he’d done what he had to. Let her think him a monster. “Come on. Let’s go.”

  He wiped his bloodied hand on his duster and picked up his gun. Taking a look out into the alley way, he saw it was clear.

  “You got anyplace that’s safe?” Peter asked Kathryn as they took the alley at a brisk walk toward Wilson Avenue.

  “Not if the people at Cell Works are hiring hit men. The corporation’s always been my home.”

  “Same with the Itami gang for me,” he said with emphasis. He wanted to make it clear that he, too, was now cut loose from his people. “What about the slags you’ve got tracking Dr. Clarris? Who are they?”

  Reaching the street, they picked up their pace even more.

  “I don’t know who they are. Shadowrunners. I contacted them through a fixer named Zero-One-Zero.”

  “Do you think you can trust him?”

  “Won’t he do what I ask if I pay him enough?”

  “Usually. Where is he?”

  “I’ve only spoken to him by phone, but he did tell me he was based in the Noose.”

  A cab was driving down the street. “Flag it,” Peter said. “It won’t stop for me.”

  Kathryn stepped to the curb and waved at the cab, which came to a stop in front of her. “This doesn’t look like your part of town, missy,” the cabbie shouted out the window.

  She opened the cab’s front door and started to climb in. “Hey, folks usually ride in the back.”

  “I know. I’m saving that seat for my friend.”

  No sooner said, Peter opened the back door.

  “Hey!” cried the cabbie.

  “Shut up,” Peter said coldly, mustering his deepest tone. “We’ve got to get to the Noose. Now.”

  The cabbie seemed more afraid of the destination than of Peter. “Not in this cab.”

  Peter pulled his gun up from behind the seat. “Look. We’re in a hurry.”

  “I’m not going in there. I’ll take you up to the edge. But not inside.” He paused. “I’ve got a wife and kids. Please don’t shoot.”

  Kathryn glared at Peter, as if to say, “You better not.”

  “All right, all right. To the edge of the Noose.”

  The cabbie sighed heavily and tapped the car into drive.

  He let them off just north of the Chicago River.

  A light snow fell. As they stepped out of the cab Kathryn looked north, briefly drinking in the glitter of the snow against the city lights. She smiled, and Peter found himself enchanted by a woman who could regard snow with the wonder of a child. Especially at a moment like this.

  The moment they were out of the cab, the cabbie wheeled his vehicle around and peeled back north with a loud screech of tires.

  “Nervous,” said Kathryn, watching him leave.

  Peter looked south. “He’s got reason to be.” Across the river stood the ruined skyscrapers of Chicago’s old Loop, once the city’s downtown. Now it was known as the Noose, home only to squatters, criminals, and—living among the massive rubble of the fallen IBM Tower—ghouls. He spotted some bright orange flames burning through the windows of buildings; warmth for squatters. Aside from those burning dots of light, the Noose was a sea of impenetrable blackness.

  Kathryn followed Peter’s gaze.

  “Maybe we should wait until morning. Daylight.”

  “No time.”

  “No time for what? I don’t mean to be—”

  “But you will be.”

  “…But what are we doing? Why are we together? Thank you for saving my life. Thank you for not killing me. But why don’t we just call it a night? I’ve got my own way of doing things, and it doesn’t involve so much lead.”

  “Well, too bad, because the people you’re playing against love lead. Now we’re both looking for Clarris…”

  “Got some bullets lying around with his name on them?”

  “No… I told you… Kathryn… I want to find him before my boss does. Listen…” He took a deep breath, then plunged in. “William Clarris is my father.”

  It took a moment for the statement to sink in.

  “What?”

  “Dr. Clarris is my father.”

  Her jaw lowered slowly until her mouth settled into a perfect O. Peter looked away, not knowing what to say next, afraid she was going to say, “What?”

  “What?”

  “He’s my father. I don’t want to kill him. I want to find him. I want to show him my research and have him confirm it. Get it published if it’s good enough.”

  “I didn’t even know he had a son.”

  A cold dagger slid between Peter’s ribs and his heart. “I transformed into a troll fourteen years ago. Now, I’ll keep you alive, but you have to help me track him down.”

  She glanced down at the ground and then up into his eyes. “All right. I want to find him, too.” He glanced at the dark towers beyond the river. Kathryn followed his gaze and asked, “Did you ever see the Wizard of Oz when you were a kid?”

  “Oh, yeah. One of my favorite books.”

  “You read it?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I saw the flat. And a niece of mine had the sim-sense. I watched part of it. It was one of my favorites.” She paused, then said, “I feel like Dorothy going into some dark Oz.”

  “And I’m everybody else?”

  “From your research, I can tell you already have a brain. And you already have courage. I’ll give you that.”

  “And believe me, buried under all this thick protection against bullets, I’ve also got a heart. That leaves you. What are you looking for, Dorothy?”

  Kathryn looked across the river and Peter saw the temperature in her cheeks rise. “Right now I’d rather not say.”

&nbs
p; Peter nodded his acceptance of that. “Well, we both have a quest,” he said, “and our wizard is Zero-One-Zero.” He swept his hand before him. “Shall we to the Noose?”

  16

  They crossed the La Salle Street bridge, glancing over the railing into the river as they walked. Enormous chunks of ice bobbed slowly, flowing like giant blood cells through a vein.

  When they reached the other side, they saw that on this side of the river the tall buildings of the Noose blocked most of the city light that bounced off the clouds. But there was still enough spill through the deep concrete canyons to see by.

  Peter saw brief flashes of warmth dart from car to ruined car. Many people were watching him and Kathryn.

  She kept closer to Peter now, and he liked knowing she came to him for protection.

  “Maybe some of them can help us,” Kathryn said.

  “No. They won’t know anything. Not these people. The Noose is crawling with squatters—on the streets, in the buildings. They live here, but they aren’t part of the hardware.”

  “I’d heard that the Noose was empty.”

  Peter gave her a look full of condescension and surprise that was, fortunately, hidden by the dark. “That’s what the Hall says. They don’t want to acknowledge the inhabitants of the Noose because then they’d have to provide services. But from what I hear, they send census guestimates into DeeCee for Fed aid.”

  “I didn’t know that,” she said quietly. Peter felt even more smug, and wallowed in it. They were now much closer to his world than hers, but even he was nervous. He’d never been in the Noose. It was a place with its own rules, rules he could translate but that were not his native tongue.

  Ahead was an intersection with fires built from refuse burning on each corner. The brilliance of the heat nearly blinded Peter, who had to raise his hand to block the images. If anyone was near the fires, he couldn’t make them out against the white flames.

  Kathryn picked up on this and started to ask him what was up-. “Shhh,” he said, and fingered his gun.

  Just then they heard a squeaky, high-pitched voice: “Hoi, chummers! Whatcha doing?” Looking to their right, Peter and Kathryn saw a little human, a kid, form out of the fire and walk out into the intersection.