Torch Song: A Kickass Heroine, A Post-Apocalyptic World: Book One Of The Blackjack Trilogy

by Shelley Singer

  “Hey, Rica. I heard you got hurt, too. You okay?”

  “Sure.”

  That satisfied her. She had other priorities. “Jo, Drew told me you were in here with Rica. I want to talk to you right now.”

  Jo’s eyes slid to me, then back to Lizzie. There had been no trust in that look. “About what?”

  “I’m seventeen. I’ll be eighteen in a few months—"

  “Eight months, Liz.”

  “So what?” Nyah nyah— she was still a kid, for sure. “This is happening right now and you know I’m strong enough and smart enough and all I need is the training, and…” Her tirade slowed, fizzled. “Please, Aunt Jo. I want to help. I want to fight. Emmy’s doing it.” She tossed a challenging look toward the young soldier.

  “Emmy’s twenty— what, Em?”

  “Two.” Emmy responded.

  “She’s twenty-two. Five years older than you.”

  “You can’t make me sit around like some little kid. I just won’t do it, Jo! You can’t make me do it.”

  Jo sighed. She seemed trapped by the girl’s adamancy. “Tell you what, honey. If your mother says you can start training— I didn’t say fighting, just training— I’ll go along with it. If Samm says it’s okay.”

  The girl fell into the chair Emmy had vacated. The dog hauled herself to her feet, limped over, and dropped with a sigh beside Lizzie.

  “She won’t agree if you don’t. You can’t just bounce me back and forth that way.” Wow. These Colemans learned stubborn and righteous at a young age. But even though Jo was taking Lizzie’s demands seriously, she wasn’t giving in.

  “Talk to her, then come to me. And Samm.”

  “Can’t talk to Samm. Doc wants him to sleep.”

  Jo gave Lizzie a warning look: stop arguing. The kid got up and left the room, trailed by the dog. I could understand their not wanting Lizzie to get involved in the army, but if things really began to explode, there wouldn’t be a way to keep her out of it short of sending her away. Everyone would be in it one way or another. Just like I had been back at the clearing. And now there was the added threat of Rocky’s invasion plans. I had to find out more about that.

  Jo took the chair that first Emmy and then Liz had sat in. “Emmy, Could you go see how Samm is doing?” It was a fairly obvious ploy to get her out of the room, leaving us alone. I was feeling helpless. My arm weighed a hundred pounds and burned like laser-fire. My legs were weak. I couldn’t even imagine standing up, let alone defending myself.

  After Emmy had gone out, closing the door behind her, Jo contemplated her thumbs for a moment. When she raised her eyes to me again I thought I saw some sweetness in them, but I didn’t know what to believe, what to feel, and her eyes iced over again almost immediately.

  “When was the last time you talked to Chief Graybel, Rica?”

  Oh, plague-shit. Did she really know I was working for the chief or was this a trick to get me to admit I was? I fast-played my conversation with Graybel the night before. Jo knew something. But I didn’t know how much and it just wasn’t in me to give up so fast.

  “Chief Graybel?” Duh.

  Jo smiled and shook her head. “Try again, Rica. When was the last time you talked to Newt Scorsi?”

  Still not ready to quit. You show me yours, first, Jo-baby. “What’s going on, Jo? What are you saying?”

  “I know your reference from the Riverboat Queen was phony. I know you’re a merc.”

  “I’ve done a lot of things for a living, Jo.”

  A flash of anger. “That may be, but at the least you’re a liar, aren’t you? Tell me who hired you. And tell me why you’re here. Tell me all of it and do it right damned now. I don’t have the time or the inclination to be patient with liars or traitors or game-players.”

  I had to give her something. “Okay, I am a merc. I’ve known the chief for years. She just wanted me to spend some time here, see if there was any truth to the accusation that you or someone in your family killed Mayor Madera.”

  This time, her sigh was loud, an exasperated explosion of air. “The Chief doesn’t give a toxie’s ass about Mayor Madera.”

  “And other things. The medicine shows. She wanted me to see who was behind them.”

  “What else?”

  My arm was on fire and my head was pounding. My stomach was in knots. But adrenaline was making my legs feel stronger. The right one twitched. I considered jumping up, knocking her down with my good arm, running out the door and getting the hell out of Tahoe. I tensed, and at that moment, someone knocked and Doc came strolling in. He stopped abruptly, seeing and feeling the tension.

  “Can you give me a few more minutes, Doc?” Jo said.

  He pursed his lips. Amazing to see someone hesitate even briefly over a request from Jo. He looked at my bandaged arm. Blood was showing through the white gauze. He nodded slowly but he didn’t leave. Jo showed no impatience. She respected this man.

  “How’s the bleeding, Rica?”

  I considered telling him I’d bleed to death if he didn’t tend to my arm right that minute, but I thought Jo might order him to leave anyway. And there was no way to know how far his independence went. Might as well see it through with Jo.

  “I’ll be okay for a bit.”

  “Okay. I’ll be back in five-ten minutes.” He wasn’t comfortable leaving, but he did it anyway.

  After the door had closed behind him Jo started right in again.

  “What else, Rica?”

  And again I tensed, ready to take off. She noticed.

  “Rica, forget it. I’ve got people out in the hall and you’re not in perfect shape. Just settle down.”

  I did. A little. How many people? I could still…

  “Here’s how I see it happening, Rica. The Chief wouldn’t have hired you on her own.” The chief had never, as far as I knew, been reluctant to use mercs to investigate problems. Which probably meant Jo thought she’d be reluctant to investigate problems that had to do with the Colemans. “And I don’t believe Newt would have, either. So I think he demanded the chief check things out. Pushed her into it. He’s got his own spies, but they’re not worth much. Except for Hannah. She was pretty good. You, Rica, you’re better.”

  “Thanks.” Except that I’d gotten caught. That brought up deep questions about my skill. Still, not much point in hanging onto self-doubt. And there really wasn’t much point, either, in making any more denials. If I had to crash past her and her guards at the door, I could do it somehow, even with one arm. I thought. And it wasn’t like I was betraying people who hadn’t betrayed me. So I started talking.

  “Yes. Newt wants to find out what you’re doing. And the chief contacted me. And I haven’t told either one of them very much.”

  She sneered. Good. It was not attractive. I needed that.

  “Oh, and why not?”

  “Because I don’t know very much.” That was hard to admit, but might sound as true as it was. The rest just poured from me. I was tired and I wanted my arm sewed up and it didn’t matter— she already had most of it figured out. “And because Newt is a— he’s never trusted me, and he’s an idiot. I don’t like him, don’t want to help him. The whole time I was fighting in that clearing today I kept thinking of his soldiers as ‘the enemy.’ And the chief? Is she the one who betrayed me?”

  “No.”

  “But she knew you were at least suspicious, didn’t she?”

  “Yes.”

  “And she didn’t tell me. Oh, she hinted around, suggested I might want to leave town. But she didn’t tell me.” Odd how good it felt to be telling someone the truth. Even Jo. Or particularly Jo. I was a disgrace to my trade.

  “You came here to spy on us, Rica. Why shouldn’t I just kill you now?” She didn’t sound as hard as she was trying to sound.

  “Because I fought for you today. Because I’d rather be working for you.” What I didn’t add was that I wanted to know exactly what the Colemans had in mind for our corner of the world, for Gran and all her
crazy friends. “Because I’ve been working for an asshole and a political weasel. I could leave, go home, let them flail around in their own mud, let you finish Newt off. Or I could pretend to still be working for Newt while I’m really working for you.” More or less. Jo was smart. She would know I had my own reasons for supposedly turning. Would she care?

  She laughed, loudly this time, truly amused. I hoped. “You just told me he doesn’t trust you.”

  “But he still ordered me to join your army.”

  “He did?” I nodded. “Have you had a chance to report to him about it yet?”

  “Look at me! Do you really think I’ve had a chance to do anything except get hurt?”

  She crossed her legs and looked out the window. Very casual. So in charge. So confident. “And the chief? What about her deal with Newt? What’s she going to think when I let you hang around, and what’s she going to tell him?”

  “She wouldn’t tell me I was in danger. I assume that’s because she doesn’t want to get on your bad side. Why would she tell Newt what was going on? Why would she do anything at all?”

  “I think you’re right about that. We’re pretty sure the chief isn’t going to tell him.” She laughed. “And why should I trust you?”

  You shouldn’t. “Because I’m a merc without an employer. The chief betrayed me and I don’t want to work for Newt. And because…” I thought about it. Because what? “I’m not sure why you’re doing the things you’re doing. I don’t even know what it is you’re doing, but I know you’re decent to your people. You treat them well. That tells me something.” It felt good to be able to string together a few truths.

  “What is it you think we might be doing?”

  “I don’t know. Building power, I suppose.”

  “It’s more than that, Rica. There’s danger in the world, and it’s growing here. Rocky sent spies, they want to invade and take over. Everything’s changing, or on the verge of it. I just heard that there’s a movement over in China toward re-integration, and rumors about Australia. If it’s happening in other places, we can’t fall behind. That’s dangerous. And we can’t let Rocky do it for us.”

  “China? That’s a long way away.” As far away as Stockholm. They’d been gobbling borders for a decade and we’d felt no ripples on this side of the world. Not yet, anyway.

  “But a sign of change. And there are changes in Oceania, too.” But signs don’t mean reality.

  So then— “we can’t fall behind here”— the Colemans really were trying to create a larger country. A much larger country. Because others were doing it. A country that could fall apart in bloody death… I realized I’d stopped breathing. I took a breath. She noticed, her eyes narrowing. I tried to calm myself. Chaos, balkanization— those were good for me. Order was not. I could never make enough money as somebody’s beat cop or acting or singing. I liked things the way they were.

  “How are you planning to defend against the changes in other places?” This was not just a matter of defense. It was a matter of the Colemans grabbing Sierra and Redwood first.

  She stood up. “I’m not ready to tell you that. I’m going to talk you over with Judith and Samm. Meanwhile, consider yourself under house arrest.” The look she gave me at that instant sent a rush of heat to my groin. “I guess you could call it bondage.” A slow smile. I could feel the heat crawling up my chest, into my neck and face like one of Gran’s hot flashes, way back when.

  When she opened the door, Doc came in. they nodded to each other.

  I had a lot to think about while he sewed me up.

  Chapter Thirty

  Dead water laced with industrial acid

  On her way out, Jo said something to someone outside my door, and Emmy came back in, a worry line between her brows, her blue eyes puzzled.

  “Jo told me to search you for weapons, Rica.” She looked uneasy. Doc stepped away from the bed, only a slight lift of the eyebrows betraying his surprise. She frisked me and found the state-of-the-art laser in my boot. That left one in my car, one in the closet. Her mouth opened as if she wanted to say something, but she didn’t. The doc didn’t react at all; his eyebrows were back where they belonged. Like he was a million miles away. Maybe this was the way he handled being in the pay of the Colemans— removing himself from the scene emotionally in case something bad happened. He could also be hiding sympathy for me, and there might be some way I could use that.

  As Emmy backed off, he returned to the bedside, shook two pills out of a little vial and told me to swallow them.

  “For the pain.”

  Not a chance. The pain wasn’t that bad and I didn’t want to be doped. “No, thanks. I’ll be okay—”

  Emmy cut me off. “Jo said to be sure you take your pain pills.”

  “You heard her,” Doc said. “Don’t make me force feed them to you.” He smiled like he was kidding, but I didn’t think he was. So much for any help from him.

  I was hoping I’d convinced Jo I was on her side now, but I wouldn’t have blamed her if she thought I was nine-tenths medicine show. If she wanted me drugged I was more determined than ever to stay alert. Doc watched while I slipped the pills between my lips. I tucked them into my cheek. I’d spit them out when everyone went away.

  Except that they started to dissolve almost immediately. They tasted like dead water laced with industrial acid. This job was cursed.

  Now Emmy was moving about, opening drawers, patting the clothing inside. She found the only other weapon I’d hidden in my room, another laser. They’d probably want to search my car, too. Or try to. They’d have to break into it first. I’d had it fitted with a super-lock, keyed to my handprint, that would give them some trouble. I could only hope they wouldn’t wreck the car in the process. And if they did get in, they’d be disappointed. All they’d find would be a few more weapons, including my last laser, a few wallets with various amounts of cash, some dried food. A capsule player.

  I hadn’t taken my sys that morning. It was in the pocket of another pair of pants hanging in the closet. It was no longer a secret that I had access to very nice tech, but I didn’t want to lose the sys and, with it, any chance I had to call for help. Emmy went to the closet, ran her hands along the clothing hanging there. Including the pants where I’d hidden the sys. She didn’t find it, shut the closet door, looked under the bed, scowled, and went out again.

  When the doctor finally left, many stitches later, I was alone in the room. I could hear my guards chatting with each other, shuffling around. Sitting, standing, shoving a chair back against the wall. All I heard were mumbles; I’d have to get up and listen at the door if I wanted to distinguish more than a word or two.

  I felt pretty good. The pills had dulled the pain. I was stitched and bandaged and on the edge of starting to heal. The punctures hurt the worst. Especially the one near my elbow. Still, the joint was intact. I’d been lucky. I swung my legs over the edge of the bed. Oops. Dizzy.

  I stood and tottered to the door, the shirt Emmy had wrapped around me flapping. I fumbled with the buttons and got two more fastened. Steadying myself with a hand on the wall, I pressed my ear against the wood.

  Emmy’s voice. “Mumble how long we have to mumble.”

  A man I couldn’t identify. One of the cashiers, maybe, I didn’t remember his name. Oh yeah. Quinn. I’d seen him in the clearing during the battle. He answered, “Till someone else mumble mumble.” Somebody sat down hard on a chair, scraping the leg against the floor.

  “Why is she mumble?”

  “Spy. That’s what Zack says.”

  A surprised “Oh!” from Emmy.

  “I don’t get it,” Quinn said. “She fought mumble.”

  “What else would a spy do?” Her words were loud and clear this time. She sounded angry. Hey, Emmy— let’s not forget that I saved your life!

  I pulled the door open, not a thought in my head about what I’d do out there. I wanted to be gone, one way or another. Jo had drugged me and Emmy sounded like she might shoot me on
sight. I’d fight my way past them. I’d make my stand in Redwood. I’d— what was I doing? They both jumped, he out of his chair, tipping it to the floor. Yes, it was Quinn, all right. Pale blond, almost white hair, streaked with bright pink. Fuzzy white eyebrows. About 40 years old. He was scrambling to get upright again. I realized that he’d gotten blurry and that I was staring at him for no reason. I yanked my stuporous eyes away from him and toward Emmy, who was pulling a pistol out of the waistband of her pants.

  She looked really burned, glaring at me, her lips tight. “Rica, you just go back in your room and go to bed. Doctor’s orders.” She pointed the gun at my midsection.

  “Emmy…”

  “You heard me, Rica. I don’t want to hurt you.” That was nice. I didn’t want to hurt her either, unless I had to, in which case—

  Only not right now. A sudden wave of dizziness. Nausea. My head felt thick and full of lumpy pea soup and my legs wobbled even when I was standing still.

  “I’m supposed to be training my replacement in the restaurant.” That was pathetic. They didn’t say oh, well, in that case, go ahead downstairs, Rica. Instead, silent, they watched me like I was melting on the floor. Another thought. “What time is it? I have to do a show tonight.” I knew I wasn’t making any sense but my mouth kept talking anyway. Hoping something would change, reality would shift and they’d let me stagger away.

  They both looked at me like my mind was gone.

  “It’s just past noon,” Quinn said. “I don’t know if you’ll be performing tonight,” he added, reasonably, gently. Talking to a lunatic.

  The pills that had dissolved in my mouth had left it feeling slick and nasty. It suddenly occurred to me that I’d left the room without my sys. How could I leave without that?