by Toby Minton
He paused when he dropped to a two-story building and heard angry voices from below. Two people arguing over a prime sheltered patch of alley.
He crept on and dropped to the edge of a long stretch of unbroken roof atop a strip mall. With room to run, Gideon broke into a loping gallop that could take full advantage of the superior strength of his creature side. He moved more like a long-limbed primate than a man like this, using mainly his alien right leg and arm, but the speed he could reach was far beyond what he ever could have managed before the accident.
When he reached the end of the mall, he leapt again, this time arcing over an empty lot toward a dark alley. He touched down and rolled as quietly as he could on the sand-dusted pavement and ducked into the deep shadow of a refuse pile.
For a long moment Gideon waited in the shadows, letting his breathing return to normal as he watched for anyone who might have seen him.
In the years following the accident, Gideon had performed countless internal scans, so he knew his lungs had a significant amount of the creature’s more powerful tissue, but they still functioned much like they had before. While his darker limbs felt not the slightest bit of fatigue after his exertion, he still needed time to recover before he could move as quietly as he needed.
When he was satisfied that no one was squatting in this particular patch of slum, Gideon slipped from the shadows, drew his coat more tightly around himself, and headed down the alley in a shuffling limp. If anyone did spot him as he crossed from one alley to the next, they would see just another hunched vagrant in search of shelter, food, or the kind of companionship one could find only in the slums at this hour.
He passed more and more people as he neared the hostel, but no one gave him a second glance. His own gaze never wavered from his goal, even when he passed a burning trash barrel around which several bundled forms huddled. The light from their fire surely reflected off his red eye, but if any of them noticed, they gave no sign.
Gideon reached the hostel and turned down the alley on one side of it. He slowed and trailed the fingertips of his left hand along the makeshift wall. The seams between the container panels were far from perfect; occasional slivers of weak light from inside gave him quick glimpses of the aisles of cots within.
They were in there right now. This close, he didn’t need the visions he’d seen tonight to tell him this was the right place. He could feel them. The twins. Rather, he could feel their power, the energy inside them that made them special.
The creature side of him stirred, and Gideon heard a low whine that cut off abruptly once he realized it was coming from him. The creature was drawn to the energy because it came from its world, not Gideon’s. Sensing the energy, even indirectly like this, reminded the creature of the hunt that used to be its sole purpose.
The energy represented purpose to Gideon as well, if in a different way. His discovery of the energy had initiated a chain of events no one could have foreseen. It brought the creature into Gideon’s life, set Savior on his maniacal path, made the twins what they were, and, of course, it had literally been the spark that ignited the catastrophic accident, the Event that broke an already struggling country. And here it was again, alive and pulsing inside the twins.
They were the key, he now knew. If he was interpreting what he’d seen on the other side correctly, one of them was destined to destroy Savior. The other would make Savior more powerful than ever. Again, if Gideon’s interpretation was correct. But he didn’t know which child would help his enemy and which would bring him down. Until he deciphered the riddle, keeping both of them out of his Savior's control was the only option he had.
And here they were, within reach again after nearly ten years on their own and off his radar. He’d hidden them from Savior so well he’d lost track of them himself. Now that he’d found them again, he had no intention of letting them go.
But he couldn’t take them in yet. His vision had been clear on that. He had to let them carry out their plan first. In his detached state he didn’t feel the remorse he knew he should for what he had to allow them to endure before he approached them—for what he’d glimpsed on the other side. Besides, it was nothing compared to what he would put them through himself in the days to come—and he felt only a slight twinge for that. Armored as he was, he felt almost nothing. Almost.
Pulling his gaze from the hostel, Gideon walked toward the main street, trying to match what he saw in front of him with something he’d seen in tonight’s vision. He reached the street and turned back, checking his position against the hostel, the edge of the sidewalk, and the nearest tents. When he was satisfied that he was in the right spot, he crouched and pulled a coin from his pocket. He turned the coin in his hand, making sure Kate’s special addition was undetectable. He’d examined the coin numerous times after Kate had added the tracker, but his scientist’s mind couldn’t resist checking and double-checking. Then he placed the coin in a small pit in the sidewalk, careful to leave the head side up.
He might not be able to approach the twins yet, but he could at least start a connection. He had no intention of losing them now that he’d found them again. Not when they would play such important roles in what was to come.
Rising and turning his back on the hostel, Gideon slipped back into the shadows and disappeared into the night.
Chapter 2
Nikki
Seeing the free zone from above surprised Nikki. From her steadily rising vantage, she could see the zone had limits. She could see that the buildings actually did stop at some point, that there was more to this oasis than the maze of alleys and clogged streets she’d called home off and on for the last few years. It was as if its buildings could reach out only so far from the seething bulk of the crumbling city before they started to wither and dry up in the sun. From above, she could see where humanity’s creation stopped and nature took over. Or so it seemed.
The lift slowed its ascent a little too quickly, and Nikki’s stomach kept moving. She grabbed the low rail running around the glass wall, steadying herself as the lift stopped and a feminine computer voice announced the forty-ninth floor. Behind her, people shuffled off and on the lift, going to work or school or whatever else went on in Sky City, but Nikki ignored them. She leaned farther forward until her forehead rested against the cool glass and she could see down the dizzying drop. She couldn’t stop a smile. She loved anything that got her stomach, anything that even remotely resembled flying.
Sometimes she thought maybe Miss Sayi, one of the few foster parents she’d actually liked, had been right about reincarnation. Maybe people really did get recycled into animals and the other way around. If so, Nikki must have been a bird the last time out. Some part of her still remembered what it was like to soar wherever she wanted to go. No checkpoints to slip, no ID chips to fake, no border restrictions to ignore, just wide open sky. Some small part of her remembered what it was like to be truly free, and the rest of her was jealous.
The lift started up again, and even though she wasn't looking she could feel Michael's disapproving stare from across the lift. He was all business now that they were on a job, and he was silently willing her to not draw attention before the time was right. He must have told her fifty times this morning alone to act casual and try to blend in today. He didn't want anything to compromise their cover before they reached the plaza. She'd heard him, every time. But as usual, she wasn't half as worried as her dour twin. She had too much faith.
She had faith that the ID chips and uniforms they were wearing would continue to work as advertised. She had faith that the guards manning the remaining chip scanners were bored, overpaid, and just a hair shy of stupid. She had faith that the people who lived and worked in Sky City were so trusting and full of themselves that they wouldn't think twice about the two slightly underfed workers in grounds crew coveralls sharing their lift. These people didn't see the hired help. Anybody in a uniform was beneath their notice, as were all the people struggling, scraping, and starving in the slums b
elow this monstrosity. She had faith alright, faith that these people cared only for themselves. Michael gave them more credit than they deserved.
The lift stopped again, and Nikki turned away from the view, leaning back against the rail to watch the people shuffle off and on the car. Despite their disguises, she and Michael still drew looks from a number of the City folk, but they were looks she was used to getting. Even though she and her brother were a little on the scrawny side, their unique ability kept their muscles toned and taut. They were both a little under average height but with smooth, pale complexions, light hazel eyes, and what was normally nearly platinum blonde hair. Whoever their parents had been, they’d given Nordic model looks to their discarded twins, and ten years of malnutrition had barely made a dent, much to Nikki’s occasional amusement and Michael’s constant frustration.
Even now, as two women old enough to be his mother eyed Michael with open appreciation around a thinly maintained sham of admiring the desert view, Michael’s mouth pulled into a still-attractive grimace. He hated the attention, and the brown grease he’d smudged on his face and rubbed through the wavy hair mostly hidden with his cap weren’t warding off the looks like he’d hoped.
Nikki couldn’t hold back a giggle. She loved to see her brother squirm. It was one of life’s little pleasures.
She’d made only a half-hearted attempt to conceal her identity, despite Michael’s hounding. Her shoulder-length, choppy hair hadn’t seen its natural color in two years anyway. The tail sticking out the back of her cap was mostly blue. The eight-centimeter blonde roots under the cap were streaked with what was supposed to have been pale strawberry but had turned out blood red. Even the crazy hair and the few smudges of grease she’d put on her face wouldn’t keep any guy from looking though, if the people on this lift were any indication.
She winked at a guy leering at her from in front of Michael and almost laughed out loud at the stink eye Michael gave the oblivious man. But her mirth soured when she saw the last two people boarding the car.
Two Sky City cops joined the group going up, and Nikki felt the first trickle of adrenaline start to tingle through her. The officers swaggered into the car with just a casual glance at the people crowded inside, enjoying a bubble of clear space as the workers and citizens instinctively shifted to give them more room. Their dark blue uniforms were crisp and pristine, regulation in every aspect, and their stun sticks and pistols likewise gleamed like they'd never seen hard use.
It would be so easy. Nikki was just two short steps behind them. She could have the first one down and out before the other realized what was happening. She could take her time with the second one. For all she knew, these two could have been involved in the Memorial Day Massacre (which they called a riot, of course), which meant they deserved a good beating, at the very least.
She didn't realize she had taken a step toward them until she felt the spike of tension coming from Michael. She stopped herself from pushing past the two people separating her from the cops, glancing over at Michael as she eased back against the rail. The warning expression on his face was a perfect match for the one her mind had conjured from the feeling coming through their link. She smiled in return, twitching her eyebrows suggestively.
No problem. She could wait. She’d get to do all she was imagining and more once the fireworks started in a few minutes. The City cops wouldn’t know what hit them. Thinking of the mayhem just broadened her smile, which she quickly smothered under her best under-the-radar look.
Michael looked away, his look of calm concentration slipping back into place as his eyes returned to the lift doors. The only thing belying his cool demeanor was the hand playing with that damn coin he’d found outside the hostel this morning. He kept rolling it over and over in his fingers. Nikki could only imagine what kind of wonky ritual he was developing for it.
Her brother’s obsessive nature was a recurring irritant to their relationship, one that flared each time he tried to make her fold her clothes when she packed them, or use utensils properly, or bathe. Or like this morning when he had been rushing her to make sure they were out the door on time, but then he was the one who stopped to pick up and examine a coin on the street.
Normally she’d be all about snapping up free money, but that thing was pre-Event U.S. money, worthless today. Michael saw it as a sign, something he was meant to find that would bring them luck today, so now here he was rolling it in his hand like it meant something.
Luck—it had never been their friend before. She had no idea why he thought an old coin would get them on luck’s good side now, but whatever floated his boat. She loved him. She could tolerate a little weirdness.
Thinking of the coin led to thoughts of real money, which usually was a precursor to mind-numbing depression for Nikki. Money liked them even less than luck did. They’d been on money’s shit list since the day they’d run away from their last foster home. Granted, not many people were on money’s good side these days, not in the States at least, but two six-year-old kids on the street tended to have it worse than most, especially when they started out with nothing but the hand-me-down clothes on their backs.
Their childhood had been ugly, brutal, and scarier than she would admit, but no matter what they’d had to face, they’d survived more than ten years on their own, thanks in no small part to their special link, which they’d relied on one way or another all their lives.
Most twins have a link of some sort, or so she’d heard. They could communicate with just a glance, finish each other’s sentences, that sort of thing. Some even claimed to know when the other was upset or hurt, and some claimed to have felt it when their twin died.
The link she and Michael shared was, well, different, to say the least. And marketable, if one was creative enough or desperate enough. They’d been both for as long as Nikki could remember.
But today, our lot changes, she thought, her smile returning. We’re riding the express elevator to money town.
A job in Sky City―the one place left between L.A. and Dallas with any kind of wealth to speak of―had to mean a serious payday. Michael had found the job, as usual, and had done all the negotiating, again as usual, so Nikki didn’t know the actual numbers, but it had to be more cash than they’d ever seen. Hell, they even had disguises and ID chips to get them inside the place, which was more than they usually got from an employer. Most times it was more of a make this gang stop shaking us down or get my food back from those teenagers type of situation, the kind where they got pointed in a general direction and were lucky if they got paid with anything more than a place to stay for a while or enough food to get by for a couple weeks.
Fake IDs and stolen uniforms? This job had to pay big.
When the chime dinged for the 143rd floor, Nikki stepped off the elevator and fell in behind Michael with a smile on her face. They walked past the chip scanners, without tripping an alarm, and followed the flow of foot traffic through the wide hall that ran around the perimeter of the tower. When they reached a broad archway filled with daylight and Nikki got her first view of a Sky City courtyard, the smile melted into a look of disgusted awe.
Sky City was basically a hollow hexagonal tower comprised of thirty independent levels stacked atop one another. Each level consisted of a green space surrounded by five outward leaning walls of terraced housing and office units stacked five stories high. Above the housing and office units, a two-story gap separated the level from the next to allow sunlight into the green space, and, according to Michael, to allow air to pass through so the whole monstrous tower wasn’t constantly swaying in the desert wind.
All that multiplied up to equal a small town’s worth of people living and working in each of the thirty levels. The mostly hollow design made it possible for each housing or business unit to have a window or two facing the outside of the tower and a window or two facing the green space in the middle of the level, which Nikki assumed was so the happy residents could compare the perfect splendor inside to the squalor o
n the run-down streets outside. Then they could pat themselves on the backs for being so lucky and pampered and go sip a fruity drink.
This particular level had a smaller green space than most, according to Michael’s exhaustive briefing, thanks to a ring of restaurants and shops tacked onto the third story on a wide promenade with five long escalators stretching down to the green space, which was speckled with tables and umbrella-covered patios serving as overflow seating for the many restaurants. From her vantage at the top of one of the escalators, between a coffee shop and a glass-walled steakhouse, the whole thing looked to Nikki like a giant mall in a bowl, filled with people with far more money and food than they deserved.
An appreciative whistle, the unmistakably arrogant kind Nikki was used to hearing in clubs, drew her attention to a lone man at a table outside the steakhouse. He was tall, which was easy to tell even though he was sitting because he had his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles resting on the table. With his hands clasped behind tousled dark hair, big aviator sunglasses hiding his eyes, and a cocky, leering grin on his face, he looked to Nikki like the kind of guy Sky City mothers probably warned their daughters about. The uniform he was wearing was vaguely military, but the way he was wearing it was anything but―too many buttons open, sleeves rolled up, more wrinkles than not.
In other words, he was just Nikki’s type. Any other day, she hated to admit, she’d probably have responded to that whistle with a few choice comments or insults―her flirting method of choice―and then probably a few dances on a dark, crowded dance floor, and then…