A small video window opened. Slim looked like a shy neo-goth with his nervous smile and black-and-white-striped shirt, but I could tell he’d be a cute kid if he saved up enough for the surgery to look human like Pretty.
Now for my own favor…remember that package I had you drop off? Is there any way you might be able to pick up another tonight? I just found out it’s been delivered to a P.O. box, but I can’t pick it up. Since Pretty’s staying in, could you get it for me?
A pair of checkboxes appeared, one labeled yes, the other no. When I looked at the no, funeral dirges played and a line of mopey 8-bit ghosts began pacing back and forth around the letters. When I looked at yes, fireworks flashed and little skeletons did a happy dance. I smiled and picked yes. The message continued.
Wow, thanks, chummer, you’re a lifesaver! Here’s the P.O. box address. Thanks again!
I jogged most of the way. Regeneration gives me a quick recovery time, and I was working on building back some of the muscle lost in my long sleep. I was heaving for breath by the time I made it three city blocks, but it felt good. Pain like this was something I controlled, something that meant progress. It was understandable and held no unpleasant surprises. I really needed that, these days.
It wasn’t that far away, a small bar without a name on a cheap street in a bad neighborhood, which described most of the area surrounding the Zone. There were a million more like it all over the Corridor, holes in the wall barely lit by the glow of neon booze advertisements wired into solar battery packs and bundled glowsticks hanging over worn and patched booths. The cracked tile floor was littered with cigarette butts and bits of broken plaster and concrete kicked in from outside or fallen from the decaying ceiling. Old blues music played from tinny, blown-out speakers plugged into a commlink with no case nailed to the bartop. The smoke was thick enough to pick up the dim light and almost muted the clack of pool being played.
The clientele were rough around the edges, but I could almost taste the sense of community (among other things). There was something about the place that I just wasn’t picking up on…
A hand slapped me on the back and I looked up to see Ranes, drink on his breath and a tall glass of synthahol beer in his hand. Ash from his cigarette fell onto my jacket, but it seemed like a waste of effort to brush it off in a place like this.
“’ello, boyo!”
Ah, that was it. Now that I listened, everyone in the bar, from the burly biker to the sixty-something way-too-skinny bleached-blonde ork bartender, had a thick British accent. Being a redheaded elf in this kind of place might get me more trouble than I wanted, but I opted to roll with it. Hell, maybe a bar fight was what I needed.
I smiled without showing my teeth and nodded in greeting, pulling out my best Hertfordshire brogue. “You Ranes?”
He nodded, his smile growing even broader. He pointed to a table near the back, waving at the bartender to get me a drink. She responded with a choice curse and complied.
We slid into the booth, thankfully far away from everyone else, and had a good view of everything from the back door to the front. A wise choice of seating.
“So, you from the ol’ country, then?”
“Not originally. My parents were Tir, but they got out before I was born. Grew up in the U.K.”
He toasted me with a toothy grin. “Here’s to it, then.” I just smiled as he drained his glass, then shouted for another from the bartender. Her response was the same as last time. “Now that we’ve got all the pleasantries out of the way, what is it I can do for you today?”
The bartender brought our drinks over. Ranes slapped her on the ass, eliciting a glare as she walked away. “Nice bit ’o trim there, eh?”
I shrugged. “Sorry, chummer, I’ve got a solo-thing for Japanese girls.” Total lie, my preferences were much broader than that, but it was none of his concern.
“Don’t blame you, what with those uniforms and all. So, you were saying?”
“Rumor has it yer in the business.”
“Everyone’s in some business.” He was playing it close to the vest. Couldn’t blame him, given his game. This was the dance every runner did with every other professional the first time they met.
“Yeah, but I understand you got a way of providing others with jobs when they just don’t know how to get work, themselves.”
His eyes were alight, and he smiled coyly. “Well, I’ve been known to do an odd bit of matchmaking. Sometimes you’ve just got to find the right job for the right person, y’know?”
I nodded. “Well, for someone in my line of work, sometimes it can be tough to find the right kind of work. I’m a go-man, myself. I don’t chart things out, I need a map. And I hear you’re the man to find when a bloke needs a map.”
“You run heavy?”
“Hell, term, I got a whole slew of friends. Just show me where ‘x’ marks the spot and you’ll get your share of the booty.”
“What kind of friends you got?”
“Bloodthirsty ones, usually.”
His face sobered. “You mean that as a turn of phrase, eh? I don’t want no truck with ghouls and banshees and whatnot.”
Suddenly I was glad I hadn’t let him see my fangs. I played to his prejudices. “Yer kiddin’, right? Ain’t any profit to hold when yer partner wants his share paid out ’a yer hide.”
He laughed and nodded.
“So what are you in the market for? Just what kind of work do you do? Electronics? Firearms? Drugs?”
I shrugged. “I’ll have to talk it over with my mates before I go making that call.”
He smiled, slid me a small datacard with his info, and raised his glass. “Well, when you do, make that call to me.”
“Will do.” His glass held there, and I knew I’d have to down mine to seal the deal. Oh shit, but I hated moments like this. I kept my smile straight and raised my own, then downed it all in one long pull. Still smiling, I got up from the booth and made my way outside.
The moment the door closed, I ran around into the alleyway, feeling the brew sloshing around in my stomach like molten lead. My body wouldn’t let it go any further, and soon it would retake that territory violently. I managed to totter behind some trash cans before it came back up, and I retched for long moments afterward. Like I said, vampires can’t handle food or alcohol. Especially alcohol.
I stumbled through the back alleys, daring anyone to try mugging me, but was once again disappointed. It never fails. You want a rumble and a drink, and it’s a silent night. You need to stay quiet, and all hell breaks loose.
I finally found the post office Slim needed me to stop at, still buzzing with Black Crescent package runners and guarded by young toughs. I washed up in the public restroom and paid the five nuyen to get my package. As it would turn out, it was another letter, this one in a slender white envelope. The return address was a girl’s name, and as I looked at it closely, I could smell something on it…perfume.
Hmmm…
I headed back to the warren just before sunrise, my hood pulled up against the predawn light, quite done with the evening and longing to go right to bed. My stomach still burned, and even bug steak would have been a welcome replacement for what had been lost.
Slim was sitting at his workstation again, jacked in and smiling faintly. I was about to tap him on the shoulder when he opened his eyes. The cyber picture of a fanged smiley face was gone, replaced by dark brown eyes. They were remarkably humanizing. Hell, with a wig and some cologne, he just might pass himself off as a regular kid with bad skin, as long as he hid his teeth.
I held out the envelope with a smile even as his face formed the question. He happily snatched it and held it closely. I took the moment to depart. Some things are best enjoyed alone.
Chapter 10
Advice
Needles still wasn’t in any mood to talk to me, but I forced the point, since I was the one doing the meets until Pretty was back on her feet. We sat in his office, tense as a cat and dog sharing a pen.
“Ranes is everything we’ve heard. Boxed-run man. Sells the plans and legwork for a gig. I’m guessing he’ll work for a percentage of the take. Even if he doesn’t normally, I can talk him into it.”
“I’m sure you can.”
I pressed on, ignoring his sarcasm. “We have to let him know what we’re looking for, and he’ll provide the job. The only question is: what do we need?”
“We need security,” he said quietly. He was still getting used to being understaffed and so vulnerable. “We’ve got weapons enough, what we need is surveillance, security systems, cameras and motion sensors and the like. Maybe even some droned guns.”
“Maybe he has a line on a warehouse that holds that kind of stuff.”
He rolled his eyes. “How about we let our little expert make that call?” He’d never talked to me like this before. Then again, he’d never been this pissed at me, either.
“Fine. I’ll take care of it. Anything else we need while I’m out? Ammunition? Kitty litter? Soy milk?”
He glared at me as I turned to leave.
It was only a few hours since meeting with Ranes. I doubted he’d be done with his partying, so I got back to Slim’s room. Everything seemed as before, except…I could smell that perfume from the envelope in the air. I sniffed lightly and could tell it came from Slim’s hands, maybe even his lips. As he turned to me, I noted a corner of the envelope peeking out from his pocket, close to his heart.
“Oh! Uh, hey, Red.”
I smiled and took a seat. “You think you can call up Ranes and get another meeting tonight?”
“Uh, yeah, yeah…null sheen. Just, uh, just give me a moment…” He switched on his AR and moved his fingers to invisible keypads, dialing up a number and placing a text message. Then he pointed at me, and I felt my commlink vibrate with an incoming e-mail.
“I cc’d you a copy of the email I just sent, plus his response. I said it was you writing it, so you’d better know what it says.”
“Thanks.” I got up to leave. “Hey, uh, Red?”
“Yeah?”
“Can I, uh…um…can I ask you a, uh, question?”
“Sure.” I took my seat again.
He moved behind me and closed the door, then started pacing about the room nervously as he worked up the nerve to continue. “You, uh, you’re the kind of guy who gets a lot of girls, right?”
I smiled. “Not so much, Slim. Back before my last long nap, I only had one girlfriend in five years. And that ended pretty badly.”
“Well, that’s still more than I’ve had… technically.”
“Technically?”
“Well… there’s this… girl…”
“In the warren?”
“No, no…we met on a blog...”
Oh, drek.
“… she’s really great! We started talking about games and music and all kinds of things, you know? She’s really wiz! She’s kinda like my best friend, you know? I tell her everything and she does the same back, you know? She’s like…” He held his hands before him, as though trying to weigh invisible qualities to find the perfect descriptor, “… I don’t know… she makes me feel like…”
“Magic?”
He snapped his fingers and looked at me, smiling ear to ear. “Yeah! Yeah, she’s like magic! Fills me up! It’s wonderful. And I think I make her feel the same way, you know?”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah! And it’s great…” His face fell. “…but…”
“But she doesn’t know you’re a ghoul?”
Well, I couldn’t tell her that.”
Where does she live?”
“Here in Chicago. I’ve got her address and picture and everything.” He dug into his pocket to pull out the letter, revealing a small, hardcopy trid-photo of a blonde girl, a little sickly, but smiling and holding forth a bunch of lilies. She was clad in a white dress, green foliage behind her. It didn’t look like digital editing, either. Under the lilies she was holding out, she’d handwritten “For you!” It was all pretty cute, and I found it romantic. She had to be about Slim’s age, but wealthy and living in a corporate enclave by all appearances.
He slid the photo back into the letter with obvious care, as though it was something precious and fragile. My heart went out to him.
“How long have you two been talking online?”
“Two years, three months, eighteen days, twelve hours and fourteen minutes exactly.”
“Well, that is a long time…”
“Do you—think she’d accept that I’m a ghoul?”
I sighed. “It’s also a long time not to tell someone something as important as that. I’m guessing you use that little avatar I saw when you talk to her?
He slumped. “Yeah.”
“Have you told her you are not a ghoul?
He hung his head. “Um…it never came up…”
“That’s a no, then. Okay…” I ran my hands through my hair and exhaled slowly. “Okay, we can work this out. I mean, you’re a guy, she’s a girl, there’s obvious chemistry… Stranger things than a human and a ghoul being in love and working it out have happened before.”
He laughed and put up his hand for a high five.
“Wait, wait,” I said, holding him off. “This won’t necessarily end up happily ever after. I mean, we have to consider the possibility that being an Infected will scare her off.”
His hand dangled in the air for a moment before dropping slowly. “I thought you said—”
“I know what I said, Slim. I said it’s possible. But you’ve got to be ready to accept the idea that she’ll turn away from you when she finds out.”
“I’ve been saving up my money for a cyber-doc. I’ve almost got enough to pay for some cosmetic surgery. I can get my skin fixed, get some hair, file down my teeth, like Pretty does.”
“Are you saying you wouldn’t tell her?”
His eyes had a pleading, desperate look.
“Slim, she’d find out one way or another. Next time you’re in public and have to dodge a Strain-III cloud concentration, or it’s a sunny day, or you get spotted by a dog or mage, or you have to feed. She’ll find out. And those are just the pleasant ways she might figure it out. What happens if you two become intimate? Just kissing her might infect her. Are you okay with her being a ghoul?”
He seemed unsure, but wouldn’t meet my gaze. “I get along okay with it,” he muttered.
“I’m sure you do. But you’ve got to make sure it’s her decision. Judging by that pic, I’d say she’s a rich kid. Probably has a weak immune system, from the looks of her. If so, she’s even more likely to get infected. Maybe she’s led a sheltered life, or grew up afraid of germs and getting sick. That’ll make it harder for her to accept you. And if she does accept it, she’ll probably have to give up everything she’s ever known. Her family, school, friends, everything, and live here. That’s a pretty permanent state of affairs.”
Slim fell into his chair, the life drained from him, as though he might start crying. I felt bad, even though I knew telling him all this was the right thing to do. “Look, Slim, I don’t want to tell you it’s impossible, or that it’s a sure thing. Everything in life is in-between. Just don’t pin all your hopes on her, or give up altogether.”
“So, what do I do?”
“Well, you need to tell her. But take it slow. If you want to win her over, start thinking about what you would have to offer her. I mean, what do you want to do someday? What’s your dream?”
“Like in the warren?”
“Well, sure… is that where you want to stay for the rest of your life?”
“I… I guess I never gave any thought to it. I mean, where else could I go?”
“Oh, boy. This is the kind of thing that’s handled outside the Zone. Look, there comes this point where you get old enough and want to make your own way in the world. Things are still pretty dicey for a ghoul out in the open, right now, but someday that’ll change. You’ve got some valuable job skills. I mean, you are a wizard with com
mlinks and whatnot, you’ve kept this place going for a while, and you clearly have a talent for organization and research. I know all kinds of people who need those kinds of skills.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely. Now, about this surgery. Do you want it just for her, or is it something you’ve been wanting for a while, now?”
“Well…I mean…” He shuffled his feet on the concrete. “Why should that even matter?”
“Because this kind of decision has long-term repercussions. You’ll have to live with it forever. So is it something you want for yourself, or for her? Because in my experience, you have to make yourself happy before you can do that for anyone else.”
“I think… I want to be able to go out there, in the flesh, and do things with people. I mean, the Matrix is wiz and all, and I’m not ashamed of how I look, but… I’m just so sick of hiding.”
“That surgery’s just another kind of hiding. Have you talked to Pretty about what it’s like?”
“No, no, no one really talks to her.”
“No one?”
“They think she’s not one of us.”
I thought about that. It explained a lot. Her isolation, even among the pack, and the attempts she made to blend back in, shifting her eyes looking like theirs when we returned to the warren. The quiet need for acceptance and love, and the hard shell she used to keep others from getting too close.
“What do you think?”
He answered without hesitation. “I think of her like a sister.”
“Then why don’t you talk to her?”
“Well, I’m not going to force her to talk to me. That goes both ways—she’s not very enthusiastic about talking to anyone around here, either.”
“Huh.”
“But, what about Angela?”
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