Regan was silent for several long seconds. Finally, he spoke in as level a tone as he could. “What would you say if I said I had a way out? Not just for us, but for everyone? All of Parole, the whole city?”
“Uh…” He almost said something sarcastic, then saw the look in Regan’s eyes. “I’d say, ‘for what price?’”
“A job. Just a job.”
“What kind of job?” Jay asked casually. “Sneak, grab, listen?”
“Takeout.”
“Who? Target?”
A beat of silence. “Garrett Cole.”
“No.” His voice was low, soft, and the closest thing to dangerous that had ever passed between them. “Any other night, I’d think you were fucking with me, Regan. But tonight’s been all kinds of wrong, hasn’t it?”
“Don’t fight me on this. Please.”
“Don’t fight you? On killing Garrett Cole?” Jay’s voice stayed low, calm except for the slightest shake. “I think I’m… not understanding you. I need you to explain this to me in a way I understand.”
“It’s saving the many. In exchange for one.”
“What did you just say?” Jay’s narrowed eyes opened wide.
Regan sighed. “I think that’s what he said.”
“Who is ‘he?’”
“A guy who… he says his name’s Hans. He has some kind ability, projecting himself like a ghost. He can see the outside of Parole, says he has a way out. Says he’ll get us out.”
“In exchange.”
“Yes.”
“Why does a ghost need your help? Why you, specifically? What does killing Garrett accomplish? Why does he want Garrett dead in—”
“Jay, stop!” Regan almost cried. “I hate this already—I don’t know! I don’t have the answers—”
“So you sign on with the first creep who says he does?”
“He can get us out. We have to get out. We have to see what’s out there, something’s happening, it’s important, and it’s worth—not being trapped is worth—” He broke off. “God, Jay, you think I want to double-cross our friends? I don’t see a choice!”
“You don’t. Really.”
“Not when it’s life, for everyone, versus—”
“Death, for one good man? For reasons you don’t even know?”
“I… God, this is already a nightmare. And you’re just making it worse!”
“Good,” Jay continued in the same very quiet, level tone. “I’ll make it as bad as I have to. Because what you’re suggesting is the worst nightmare any of us could ever have. Evelyn Calliope is Parole’s loud and twice-as-shiny superheroine queen in the spotlight, and Garrett Cole is our shadow king running everything from backstage. Ha, if she’s me, he’s you. Do you really want that on your conscience, that kind of—”
“It’s not like that and you know it,” Regan protested. “It’s one man’s life, against escape from this place, forever! For all of us! If it was anyone else, we’d take it in a second!”
“But it’s not! It’s Garrett Fucking Cole, and he’s not only our boss, and he’s not just the man whose death would mean total and complete chaos—”
“It would also mean a way out of here,” he insisted. “The end of Parole. This—this hell coming to an end, and a real chance for—normal! Starting to be normal!”
“You look in a mirror lately, lizard man?” Jay’s voice was sharp and Regan almost winced, almost buckled. “You think normal’s coming back just because this city goes away? For you—or for me? Or was your old ‘normal’ such an amazing thing you just have to get back to it? Did you really have it so great? So good you’d throw away everything, and let it burn?”
“How can you say that?” Regan stared. “You’d really stay here your whole life?”
“There are some lines I won’t cross. Don’t like the answer?”
“I don’t understand it.”
“Then there’s my answer.” His eyes hardened, and his arms folded across his chest. He tucked down his chin, and Regan watched him shrink down into himself. “Don’t take this job. Don’t kill Garrett. Even if we can’t see it now, everything would change, and none of it would be good. He has plans within plans within plans, and even death might just play into one of them. Who knows what we might set into motion?”
“How do you know all this?”
“Because I know him. I know the Emerald Bar was the best thing to happen to him in ten years, since we got cut off from the rest of the good things in our lives. I know he likes to pretend it’s just a bar and not a headquarters, and that’s why the parties are real, that’s why the concerts keep going, that’s why he emcees every night and gets up on stage when people like us exist. And we’re supposed to be his people.” The deep lines of his frown stood out even in the soft darkness. “And I know he records every song he sings with Evelyn, and when we downloaded all that stuff, I uploaded everything I had, so everyone else could listen too. His favorite’s a super old one called ‘The Best Is Yet To Come.’ Right now I’m dying from the irony.”
Regan sucked in a breath. “Stop right there. My mind is made up—there’s nothing you can say that’ll change—”
“He’s family.”
“No.” Regan’s eyes widened in shock, then horror.
“He married my sister Maureen almost twenty years ago.”
“Don’t say any more.” He turned away, shutting his eyes.
“Why? Am I making it worse? Is he harder to hurt now?”
“You don’t tell me details!”
“No? What are you gonna do if I tell you about him, Regan?” Jay took a step closer, hands balled into fists to stop them from shaking. “Are you gonna lose your nerve?”
“I can’t know—about a takeout job! I can’t—”
“I know you can’t! If you even know someone’s name, you hesitate and we lose the window! You couldn’t even kill Turret! That’s why you’re gonna know all about Garrett Cole—and me!”
“Fuck—stop!”
“Garrett’s my sister’s husband!” Jay was shouting now, emphasizing every name, each one Regan didn’t want to hear. “Maureen’s husband—and you know her! The first time we got a signal out, it’s because I used the barrier frequency schematics we grabbed! Whose designs do you think they were? They’re hers!”
“What?”
“Maureen’s design. This thing keeping us all trapped over the fire. She made it. Just not for… how it’s being used. Turret… did it wrong.” Jay took a second to catch his breath. “Personal shielding. That’s what it was supposed to be. Protective. Turret…” he turned his eyes to the ceiling as if he could see what lay beyond it. “Made it much bigger. Turned it into a cage. You know how that feels?”
Regan gave a slow nod, some guardedness dropping from his face. “I can imagine.”
“I don’t think you can. I don’t think any of us can.” Jay shook his head, mouth twisted into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “But then you made some bonehead joke about paying for a long distance phone call, and Maureen actually laughed—you know how long it’s been since I’ve heard my sister laugh, Regan? Probably not since she and Garrett—”
Regan jerked like he’d been doused with cold water. “I don’t know her!” he almost shouted. “And I don’t know him! This job is getting done, it has to. I can’t listen. I can’t listen to this!” His breath came fast and hard, like a thirsty dog panting after a hard run. “So tonight I don’t even know you!”
Jay shut his mouth, nostrils flaring. Slowly he got up from his chair, still not putting his full weight on his left ankle, but not hesitating when he faced Regan head-on. “They’ve got a kid. Shiloh.”
“Stop it.”
“Smartest kid I’ve ever met - way smarter than me when I was 18. Xie - that’s what Shiloh goes by, xie, xirself, isn’t that beautiful? Xie’s the reason we can get a line past that barrier at all. Any good we did tonight, you can thank Shiloh. And you want to throw that kid’s life—”
“I said stop,
I don’t want to know—”
“Too bad! Where do you think all that crap we downloaded tonight came from? Who do you think picked it out, the cartoons, the Star Trek, music, everything? Shiloh’s been collecting it for us for years, putting together a Parole care package.”
“But we still can’t break through the barrier’s interference.” Regan shook his head, latching onto the one thing he could safely comprehend. “How—”
“Shiloh’s got some kind of energy power, I don’t know, xie’s like Radio Angel but—but different, I don’t know! I’d love to ask! I’d love to ask my sister about this giant bubble, how to pop it! Or I dunno, how her day went—but it’s kinda hard, especially now that you wanna go take out one of the only people who might actually give us a chance. Her husband, my—”
“No.” Regan clenched his teeth. “No, you’re not supposed to tell me—”
“Job details?” Jay almost laughed. Almost. “Oops. Little late. Are you gonna hesitate now? Are they people? God, news flash, Regan, every single one of our takedown targets are! Yes, these guys themselves are the scum of the earth but all of them have at least one person who isn’t—are you just figuring this out? And Garrett Cole has more than anyone, because he’s not the scum of the Earth, he’s an actual hero, and—”
“No! I mean - you’ve never told me about your family,” Regan finished, voice faltering. “How they helped us. Signals. Designs. I—I knew their names, but not how they were... connected.”
“Of course not! Rule one!” Jay flung out his arms. “The less you know, the safer! You don’t know who’s listening! You don’t know who might try to use your family against you! Clearly I was right to worry! I was just wrong about who was gonna do the using!”
“Jay, I’m sorry—”
“Do you even know this Hans freak? Have you talked to him before? Or did he just pop out of nowhere and go ‘fear not, mortal, I’m a ghost, here’s a thought, betray your runtime partner of ten years for this wild bullshit—’“
“That’s not what he’s doing, Jay—”
“Yes it is! This is my family! This is Maureen’s heart—do you know what she’s been through? Do you know what she’s risked? This is Shiloh never seeing xir dad again—we’ve all kept this city alive, all together, and you want to destroy that, just because this Hans—”
“He’s got a way out!” Regan’s heart slammed in his chest. He took a step closer and Jay didn’t give an inch of ground, but his hard eyes made Regan stop before he took another step. “He can stop the fire, and he can get us out, and I thought you’d—”
“You thought I’d what? Join you in some jailbreak because a ghost says ‘trust me, all it’ll take is Garrett Cole’s life?’“ Jay’s voice was the coldest Regan had ever heard it. “This is my family. What hurts... is I thought they could be your family too.”
Regan couldn’t speak. He stared at the floor, mouth open, nausea roiling in his stomach. “This is our way out,” he said at last. “A real way out. Hope for the future, for you and me, and everyone, this whole city… What are you doing, Jay?”
Jay stood between him and the door, a small object in one hand. The taser he kept in his desk by his computer; the one Regan had talked him into getting when he’d refused to get any kind of gun for the tenth time. “I can’t let you do this.”
He stared at Jay. Then at the taser. He had never seen it from this angle before. “Are you going to stop me?”
“Yes.”
“Then stop me… please.”
“I knew it.” Jay shook his head, almost smiling. “You don’t want this, do you? You know it’s a lie, the guy’s playing you, this whole thing’s—God, Regan, are you really gonna make me drop you to the ground? None of this has to happen!”
“I have to try. I have to do something. I’m going out of my mind in this place, the fire, no solid ground, something has to give—”
“Not this! None of this!”
“It’s one life,” Regan panted, as if he’d run very fast and hard. “Against thousands. And it’s up to me which one.”
“Not Garrett’s.” Jay’s glare was as sharp and deadly as anything he’d ever seen. “I won’t let you.”
“No,” Regan whispered. “I don’t… I don’t know.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then why are we doing this?!”
“Because Hans—he said you—”
“What?” Jay almost spread his hands in a shrug, almost misaimed the taser, remembered just in time. “He said I what?”
“If I didn’t, you—” He broke off, looking away quickly.
“Just talk to me,” Jay said slowly. “Please.”
Regan looked back up and stared at him, open-mouthed. For one long moment, the sharpest, realest reason for this entire night was balanced on the tip of his tongue. Then he took a step backwards. “I’m sorry, Jay. I am so sorry.”
“Sorry for…” his eyes widened. “No, no no, don’t you fade, do not fade, do not!”
It was too late. Regan was simply there one moment, gone the next, not quite invisible but impossible to make out, edges blurring, air distorting; something rushed past him, he grabbed at it but didn’t lash out with his weapon. A hand pressed against his chest, shoved him backwards, and the blur continued across the room, wrenching open the door—which slammed shut after it a moment later, leaving only silence behind.
Jay stood for a moment in numb shock, then fumbled for a nearby phone, its receiver covered with a fine layer of dust. His hands shook so hard it took three attempts to dial correctly, but at last the call went through.
“Zilch?” he said immediately as soon as he heard the click on the other end. “It’s Regan, it got worse—I think he’s gonna do something really bad, he’s talking about Garrett Cole, and ghosts, and people dying, and escaping, and I don’t know what’s going on, but it’s bad, and he listens to you, he doesn’t listen to me anymore but he listens to you, so, can you…can you please…” he caught his breath, made himself listen for a response.
There wasn’t one.
“Hello? Zilch?” Jay’s voice rose in pitch and desperation. He clutched the phone, something heavy and cold building in his stomach.
“Sorry, CyborJ,” said the distinctive voice, level and calm. “There’s nothing I can do.”
Click.
A rushing filled his ears. He didn’t know how long he stood there motionless, or when the phone fell from his hand, just that he must have dropped it, because he had to bend down to pick it up before trying to call again.
“Pick up,” he muttered. “Celeste? Listen—you have to get to Garrett. Someone’s going to make a move on him. Yes, Garrett Cole. I know—I know how it sounds. No, it’s not SkEye. A runner. I don’t know, another runner, just—just a job, I found some… just get to Garrett.” A pause. His head dropped. “No, Regan’s not working tonight. Yeah. I’ll… be right here.”
He hung up, and held very still. For several long seconds he stared into space, only looking up when Seven’s tail flicked as she emerged from under his desk where she’d been hiding.
“Search and follow: Regan. Do not approach. Alert if...” he stopped. “Belay that order.” He hesitated. “Monitor life signs. Record. Transmit activity reports to me at assigned intervals.” A moment of thought. “Engage.”
“Mrah.” She hurried out the cracked window, fluffy tail trailing behind.
“Good kitty.”
Slowly, his shoulders dropped. He was alone. The room was empty.
Then, he caught sight of something he’d missed—or that hadn’t been there before. The gleam of a small data drive in the glow of his computer screen. Jay remembered very well what was on it. He was almost afraid to take a closer look, but this had never stopped him before.
He inserted the drive and a window popped up immediately. Jay read what was on the screen, long fingers tented in front of his face.
“No.”
He
read the report of the outside world, the world beyond Parole’s bubble again.
“No he… no he did not…”
Jay held perfectly still for several seconds. Then, fast as he could, he scrambled to his feet, wrenched the door open, and ran from the room.
Ten minutes before CHAMELEON MOON…
☾
“Star.”
“No.”
“Wavy lines.” The woman with the smooth-shaved head leaned sideways and squinted, studded tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth.
“No.”
“Cheeseburger with everything on it.” She grinned, teeth a sharp flash of white even in the dim fluorescent light.
“No, Rocket. Come on, you’re not even trying.” The man with the deep brown skin and pristine white lab coat sighed and laid the five cards facedown on the table between them, covering them up with one large hand. The small deck was supposedly used for testing levels of extra-sensory perception, but results so far had been…indeterminate at best. At one time, he might have called anyone who believed in such things eccentric (among other things) but in in a city where people literally developed abilities like these on a daily basis, they were starting to seem a lot more practical.
“Yes I am! You’re the one who’s been distracted all day. Focus, Will.”
“I don’t have psychic abilities. And neither do you.”
“Not with that attitude.” She smirked, pulling her pale, thin shoulders up until they grazed the bottoms of her multi-pierced earlobes. “Star.”
“You said star already. Circle,” he shook his head as he held up the card and looked at her, but his dark brown eyes were smiling, and the rest of his round face followed suit. “And now I’m hungry. Had to start talking about cheeseburgers.”
“Oh. Well, I was pretty close. At least those are round.”
“Guess the wonder drug really doesn’t take with some people.” Still shaking his head so his long, thick ponytail of immaculate braids swayed behind him, the large man got to his feet and walked across the small room to sink into another chair not unlike the one he had risen from. The difference was, this one was in front of an entire wall of consoles and displays. “A city full of superheroes up there, and here’s you and me. A thousand feet down and…normal.”
Life Within Parole Page 15