by Minton, Toby
Twitchy recovered before she did and made a grab for her with his other hand. Nikki danced back and socked him inside the bicep. That was her anti-Michael move, cobbled from the few things she retained from Michael's yammerings about pressure points. When he did the move, it was all smooth pivot and quick hammer fist. When she did it, she threw her whole body into the motion and punched the pressure point like it was a heavy bag. Her way was better. If a light jab would make the arm go numb, why not smash that sucker?
This time though, her battle reflexes failed to take her newly injured hand into account, which of course was the hand she used. She realized her mistake at the last second and tried to redirect, but that only made her glance off Twitchy's arm and hit the dumpster.
"Son of a bitch!" she screamed, more out of frustration than pain. Not that there wasn't pain.
Twitchy shouldered her against the dumpster, knocking the breath out of her, but Nikki's anger wasn't about to let that stop her. She twisted toward him and tried to get in a punch, but he had reach on her. He wrapped both hands around her neck and pushed her against the dumpster, squeezing the fight right out of her.
She tried swinging at him, but it was pointless. She couldn't hit anything but his arms, and without her juiced up strength, she might as well be slapping at steel cords. She tried to kick him, but each time she lifted her legs, he slammed her back into the rain-slick metal.
Twitchy was shouting or cursing at her, but Nikki didn't register his words. She couldn't. Her ears were throbbing on the inside and filling with a pulsing roar. And everything was starting to go dark.
His hands, Nikki. Michael's voice shook her head it was so loud, but not like he was shouting, just like he was…huge. Grab his right hand with both of yours. Do you hear me? Nikki?
She tried to do as Michael said, but she fumbled. Her own hands felt thick and clumsy.
Twitchy slammed her back against the dumpster again, but this time he made a mistake. He lifted her off her feet as he shoved, and the edge of the dumpster caught her in the lower back instead of the shoulders. She tipped backward, curling up by reflex, and her knee slammed into something solid.
The pressure around Nikki's neck disappeared, and she collapsed, the king of all head rushes tingling through her brain as she sucked in air. On her second, slightly less desperate breath, she shook her head and tried to clear her vision. She couldn't afford to be dazed. She had to get back in this fight before it was too late.
From her hands and knees, she looked up to see Twitchy struggling even more than she was. He was blinking slowly and swaying. He staggered backward a step and barely kept his balance.
She knew that look. Her knee must have caught him just right under the chin. He was out on his feet, a hair away from dropping. How he was staying up was beyond Nikki. It was almost like the universe was rubbing in her face how weak she was without her power. The universe had chosen this one skinny tweaker Runner as its champion, a champion sent to strip away what little confidence she had left, not to mention her pride and thin hope that her power would return.
Nikki had won this fight, but she felt no sense of victory, no sense of accomplishment. She hadn't won through skill or power. She'd won through blind, flailing luck.
She pushed to her feet with a grunt and prepared to put the champion down for the count. But before she could make a move, he went down under a furious, glittery onslaught. Barbie, in all her barefoot glory, put Twitchy down with two swings of a dark pallet slat. Then she went to work, laying into him with the splintery wood over and over, punctuating each swing with something halfway between a sob and a scream.
Nikki stepped in and caught Barbie's arm before her seventh blow could land. Twitchy had lost consciousness round about number three.
"Whoa. Easy," she said as she met the wild look in Barbie's eyes. "I think you got him."
Both of them, Michael corrected.
Nikki glanced over at Chester Molester. He was laid out next to the loading dock, surrounded by the shattered bottles and two broken stilettos Barbie had used to bring him down.
"He said to keep hitting until they stop moving," Barbie choked, her voice raw and shaky.
"Who said?" Nikki darted a glance around the loading dock but saw no one else moving.
"Dad." Barbie's wild look was starting to fade to something more like the shock Nikki had expected in the first place. "He said if I ever got attacked to fight back and keep hitting them until they stopped moving before I ran away."
Nikki could feel Michael's smile trying to take over her mouth, along with his appreciation for this townie and her father. But his feelings couldn't compete with her swelling disgust with the world in general right now. She watched the last shred of self-respect she'd managed to hold onto during this disaster get squashed under the pedicured foot of the spoon-fed townie who'd come to her rescue.
To drop a big, honking block of salt in that wound, she jumped just as high as Barbie when the pile of pallets suddenly shifted. Pit Bull was still kicking, and from the sound of his growls and curses, he was going to be in a lather when he managed to free himself.
One of the pallets flipped away, and Nikki met Pit Bull's furious gaze. She expected a lot of things to happen then, but not what did. Pit Bull pressed his fingers against the side of his jaw, which clicked and beeped. Then he growled, "Come to me."
Nikki didn't need Michael's shouted warning to know Pit Bull wasn't talking to her or Barbie. He was calling in reinforcements.
* * *
Nikki didn’t wait around to meet Pit Bull's other friends. She hightailed it down the narrow alley, Barbie in tow.
Barbie sucked in a sharp breath with a tiny squeal when they splashed through the first puddle, but she didn’t break stride or complain even though she was barefoot. Nikki had underestimated her. There was probably a life lesson in there somewhere about generalizing and profiling, but adrenaline and lack of interest kept Nikki from internalizing it.
She could hear running footsteps and shouts from behind and from the club up ahead, so Nikki took a left at the first street she hit and dragged Barbie deeper into the maze of alleys and side streets between the main roads.
This felt familiar to Nikki, almost like old times. She and Michael running, trying to lose a handful of cops in a free zone. Only, these were Runners instead of cops, she was still in the city proper instead of the free zone, and Barbie was no Michael. So, yeah, not like old times at all.
Gradually, they worked their way to the relative safety of a main street but it took them the better part of an hour, what with the constant twists and turns and long minutes spent hiding in the shadows as Runners passed by. When they finally reached a main street, they were close enough to the edge of the free zone south of the city that the traffic was practically non-existent and the lighting was sporadic at best.
After a quick glance up and down the street, Barbie tried to dart out of the alley. Her destination was obvious. Their hiding spot was only a couple blocks downhill from a brightly lit call point, the kind of one-stop shop that served as taxi call, mass transport stop, and emergency help point. This close to the free zone, it was also a prime meeting spot for dealers and buyers.
Nikki snagged her arm and hauled her back into the shadows.
"That's not where we're going?" Barbie's voice was still strained but sounded less panicked than before. She was still terrified, Nikki was sure, but it was the lower-intensity, marathon kind of terror, not the high-octane sprint kind. "Why not?"
"That's why." Nikki pointed toward two figures backlit by the call point, casually strolling down the sidewalk in this general direction. Nikki couldn't make out much about them at this distance, but she had a bad feeling rolling around in her gut that wasn't all coming from Michael. When the figures stopped to peer into a crossing street for a few seconds before continuing, Nikki gave her gut a nod of thanks.
She had no doubt they were Runners, just like she had no doubt they were looking for Barbie and he
r. She would have laughed at the situation, if not for all the adrenaline and disappointment choking her sense of humor. She'd spent half the night searching for a fight, then the rest of the night running from it. It figured luck would have her pissing off one of the biggest and obviously most well-connected gangs in the area.
Good to see some things never change, she thought. Her hate-hate affair with luck was turning out to be the one constant in her universe.
"Why are we here, then?" Barbie whispered.
"Fruit."
"Oh." Barbie's shock was still in effect. Nikki could tell by the slow three-count it took for her expression to make the trip from trusting acceptance to questioning confusion. "What?"
Nikki nodded across the street at the produce kiosk. It was a small, permanent structure facing away from the street at a wider section of the sidewalk. Designed to mimic the top of the Space Needle, sort of, it was round and dull white with a thin, flat awning circling the top and metal shutters from about chest level up on the sidewalk side. Those shutters were open now, casting a weak wedge of light on the sidewalk.
Nikki knew this place would be open. She knew the place, knew the guy who ran it. Like any good zoner, Nikki made it a point to always find and make nice with the nearest source of fresh food. Milos was that guy this side of the Seattle free zone.
"Get ready," Nikki whispered, shifting her gaze back to the two Runners. They were taking their time, listening as much as looking at each intersection.
Nikki waited. When the two got close to the next intersection, she shifted her weight to her toes and tightened her grip on Barbie's arm. The second the Runners reached the intersection and turned, Nikki bolted for the kiosk, dragging Barbie behind her.
Nikki's favorite boots were well worn—had been before she'd gotten them—so they made little sound on the pavement, barely more than Barbie's bare feet. She hoped they'd be quiet enough. She didn't risk turning her head to see. She kept her gaze fixed on her target until she and Barbie were in the shadows again with their backs pressed firmly against the kiosk wall.
After a few breaths, she peeked around the back of the kiosk. The Runners were still advancing, but at the same slow pace as before.
Nikki leaned back and gave Barbie a relieved smile and reassuring wink before pulling her around the other side into the light.
Milos looked surprised to see them step around, but then he always did. He greeted everybody with the same raised brows and pleasantly surprised tone.
"Little Nikki!"
That part of his greeting was specific to her, she was pretty sure.
"Who's your little friend?"
"In trouble, that's who," Nikki said.
Milos's brows climbed a little higher on his bald head, but his surprised look faded from his eyes. Living and working this close to the free zone, he was no stranger to kids in trouble.
"We need your help," Nikki told him, shooting a glance down at the half door under the counter.
He unlatched the door and swung it open without a word. He was no stranger to helping kids in trouble either.
Nikki pushed Barbie through then ducked under the counter and followed. As Milos locked the door behind them, Nikki sagged back against the wall under the counter next to Barbie, a million little aches popping up to say "hi" as she hugged her knees to her chest and relaxed for the first time in hours.
Nikki, those Runners will check in here eventually, and when they do—
“Yeah, I know that," she cut Michael off. "I'm not an idiot.”
Milos stopped leaning out to see whatever they were running from and started to ask what the hell she was talking about. Nikki could tell by the I’m-about-to-ask-what-the-hell-you’re-talking-about look on his round, lined face. Maybe Michael was right that she needed to put the kibosh on responding out loud. She made a mental note to bump it up closer to the middle of her to-do list. Before the man could get the obvious question out, Nikki cut him off. “Call the cops, Milos, and keep her hidden."
"I don't want trouble, little Nikki."
"I know." She snagged a couple of pathetic looking apples from the discount bucket and stood with a grunt. Tomorrow morning was going to suck. "That's why I'm leading the trouble away.”
She grabbed the counter and started to hop over, but Milos stopped her.
“Wait. You pay for apples."
Nikki turned to give Milos the full weight of her glare. "Seriously? That's what we're doing right now?"
He just looked at her like he didn't see the problem.
"What, a girl’s not enough for two apples?” she asked before she could stop herself, to which Milos and Barbie looked confused and surprised, respectively.
Nikki—
“Too soon. Yeah, I see that.” She balanced the apples in her throbbing left hand and dug a couple of coins from her pocket with her right. “Here. Jeez. It’s not like you don’t know me.”
Milos made the coins disappear with a smoothness Corso would have admired. Corso. He'd be a sight for bruised eyes right now. He or pretty much anybody else.
She started to turn away again, but this time it was Barbie's voice that stopped her. "Nikki? I can't thank you enough for saving me."
"You kidding me?" Nikki said with a half smile of genuine confusion. "You came to my rescue back there. I should be thanking you, killer."
"Becca. And if you hadn't stepped in when you did—"
"Don't sweat it," Nikki cut her off. "You kicked ass back there. All I did was get slapped around and run like a—"
I believe the words you're looking for are "you're welcome," Michael cut in.
"But anyway, yeah, you're welcome, Barbie."
Close enough.
Nikki hopped over the counter back to the sidewalk, wincing at the multiple flares of pain as she landed. This hero stuff sucked, hard.
She crouched and crept to the back of the stand. The goons were still on the other side of the street, but they were closing.
“Your change, little Nikki,” Milos called. “I am honest man.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she whispered to the shadows as she eased back out of the goons’ line of sight. “You’re killing me here, Milos,” she snapped as she swung back to the counter. “Keep it. Call it payment for that call to the cops you'd better be making." She started to turn away but turned right back. "And shut up already.”
She stepped to the back again, but his voice stopped her before she could peek around.
"Little Nikki—"
"Are you shitting me?" She barely stopped her voice from going full shout. "I swear to God, Milos—"
"—be careful."
"Oh. Yeah. Will do."
Chapter 4
Nikki
Nikki's first throw was a little off. The apple hit the ground behind the trailing Runner and rolled harmlessly into the alley they were leaving. The sound distracted them for a second, but not the way she intended. They were on their way to the alley Nikki and Becca had left moments ago. Once they cleared it, their next stop would be the fruit stand. One of them was already eyeing it.
Crouched in the deep shadows of an alcove twenty meters uphill from the fruit stand, Nikki bounced her remaining apple on her palm and waited for her opening. She'd missed the first shot because her targets were moving.
Was that the problem? Looked to me like you just missed.
Shut up, she thought back at Michael's faint voice. He was slipping away from her again, his voice fading. That must be why he wasn't seeing things properly. She hadn't missed. She was good at throwing things at people. Really good. In fact, if she had a CV, "Hitting people with stuff, thrown or otherwise" would be right at the top.
If you say so. Michael's voice was so faint she had to stop breathing to make out the rest. But I wouldn't have missed.
She started breathing again, mainly so she could give voice to the chain of curses her brain was angrily linking together. She stood and stepped out of the shadows. The Runners had reached the al
ley across from the fruit stand and stopped to check it out.
"Watch this miss, jackwagon,"
Her second throw was dead on, or so she thought at first. It became infuriatingly clear by the time the apple arced halfway across the street that this throw was going wide too. She'd overcompensated. "Son of a—"
At the last second, the taller Runner up front turned away from the alley and stepped toward the fruit stand, and right into her throw. The apple smacked off the side of his head with a wet thump.
"Ho-ho!" Nikki cheered. "What's up now?"
She meant the taunt for Michael, but it was the Runners who responded. Apple Face rubbed an arm across his cheek and pulled out a pricey looking com unit. The other guy ran straight for Nikki.
She was so proud of herself she almost forgot to run. Almost.
She ran uphill toward the call point just long enough to make sure both guys took the bait. Once Apple Face joined the chase, Nikki turned right down the next alley, slipped past the row of garbage cans taking up most of the narrow entrance, and ran for the short fence at the far end.
The clouds stretching across the moon thinned, letting Nikki make out just enough of the piles and puddles under her feet to know she’d rather not be running through them, but she didn’t slow down. At least, not until something big passed between her and the moon, casting a fleeting shadow across the alley and making Nikki’s heart do a triple-take in her throat.
She slid to a stop and looked up. She saw nothing but a few stray pieces of crushed brick or gravel raining down where the shadow had passed. Whoever was up there, they’d jumped from one roof to the other and moved on, fast.
Some of Apple Face’s buddies were up there trying to cut her off, she told herself, but her stomach wasn’t convinced. She’d only caught a quick glimpse of that shadow, but something about it had felt…wrong.