The World Around the Corner

by Rick Ellrod

  “You bet.” They were on a divided street with a weed-grown median strip now. Cars were parked along the sides of the street. Some were almost new. Others stood rooted to the pavement, decrepit. “What do we want to do now?”

  “I don’t know. Let’s just drive around a little, see what we notice.”

  Jeff peered up at a street sign in the grey light, turned right onto a narrower street fringed with low-rise apartment buildings. “What are we looking for?”

  “Dunno. Bread crumbs. A sign saying ‘Renee Is Here.’ Helpful talking fish.”

  “Down by the river, then, for the fish,” Jeff said. Dana scanned both sides of the street in turn. Jeff drove slowly, taking quick glances this way and that. Grim apartments mingled with small grimy shops, narrow parking lots, blank-walled buildings that could have been warehouses or factories, row-houses, and once an abandoned railroad track. People moved warily on the streets and occasionally collected in small clots at convenience stores or shopfronts.

  Presently Dana said, “It’s getting pretty dark. I don’t know how long we can keep this up before we won’t be able to see anything.”

  Jeff squinted down a cross street. “Doesn’t that look like—Dana, down there.” He pointed.

  “Is it her?” Dana gasped. “Go after her!”

  The car leaped forward, pulled to a halt at a stop sign, motor stuttering, while two light trucks rumbled past. At the first possible moment Jeff pulled sharply into the intersection, whipped the car to the left, and gunned it. The engine chose that moment to wheeze and stall out completely. He wrenched the car to the curb, rolling with the last residual momentum, and tried the ignition. He threw it into park and tried again. Nothing. He cursed.

  “We have to see if that’s her.” Dana shoved the door open, grabbed her purse and leaped out.

  Jeff turned off the car and bounced after her.

  Dana trotted down the sidewalk, peering around passersby; Jeff followed.

  They moved down the street as quickly as they could. Jeff scanned the people ahead for the hint of familiarity that had caught his eye. As they were seeing people largely from behind, it was hard to be sure. They were reduced to dodging past pedestrians and glancing sideways, which tended to slow them down.

  At the first cross street they paused. “Which way?” Dana’s head swiveled.

  “I didn’t see her turn. Straight ahead.”

  They crossed the street and pressed on. Jeff pointed. “There?” A fair-haired girl who might be Renee was about a block ahead of them.

  “Might be.” They hurried along, caught up with the suspect, found themselves glancing surreptitiously at a woman of about thirty. “Should we double back?” Dana had a crease between her eyes. Jeff wondered whether Rosmara would look the same way when baffled.

  “We’ll never catch up if we keep changing direction.”

  “I don’t think we’re going to catch up this way either.” In the gathering dusk they continued forward, following the roadway along a sharp curve. The road split at an acute angle. There seemed to be somewhat more walkers on the right branch; they took that one.

  Ten minutes later Dana paused at a corner, staring across the street fixedly. “What is it?” Jeff could not see any sign of a Renee-like figure.

  “I’m not sure.” Dana trotted across the street.

  Jeff followed her across the sidewalk and a strip of straggling grass to inspect the side of a building.

  “There!” Dana pointed at the roughly-plastered brick.

  Although it was difficult to make out details in the failing light, Jeff could see a pattern roughly sketched on the wall. “You’ve got it! That’s our guild symbol.” To the average onlooker it might not suggest anything at all, but to the initiate the pattern was unmistakable: eight stars, the Big Dipper and Polaris, with three diagonal strokes between.

  “Then she must be down here somewhere.” Dana paced down the narrow side street, peering left and right into the gloom. “Should we split up?”

  “No,” said Jeff emphatically. He did not like the look of this area. He had guarded Rosmara’s back a hundred times, and if this was Rosmara, he wasn’t going to stop now. Besides, they wouldn’t earn experience points for a fight here. He seized her hand firmly.

  Dana threw him a surprised glance, but continued forward, examining walls and sidewalks for some further clue.

  They stopped dead as three men sauntered out from an alley just in front of them. An unpleasant chill ran down Jeff’s spine. “Hey, man, what’cha doin’?” said the one in the lead insolently.

  Jeff resisted the impulse to reply. He glanced sideways at Dana. She showed no reaction, neither shrinking nor bristling.

  “All by yourselves, are ya?” the second thug jeered. They moved forward to block Jeff and Dana’s path. The men were young, perhaps late teens. They appeared to be unarmed, so far.

  The first thug stepped forward toward Jeff abruptly. “Hand over the wallet, man, I’ll take whatever you’ve got.”

  “I’ll take whatever she’s got.” The third thug cocked his head at Dana, licking his lips.

  So much for simply cooperating and handing over our money, Jeff thought. With that decision his mind fell into a familiar pattern. His body shifted, knees slightly bent, one foot a little behind the other.

  He glanced once more at Dana and gave a tiny nod. Then he moved smoothly forward. The leading thug, not expecting to be attacked, threw up a hand to block Jeff’s left-hand strike, and Jeff’s right punched him in the throat. The leader gagged and collapsed.

  There was yelling, but the sound hardly seemed to reach Jeff, who had fallen into the focused mindset of a practice session, bypassing distractions. Step back, rotate, block.

  The second thug rushed in, swinging a haymaker.

  Jeff stepped past rather than away from the blow, seized his opponent’s elbow and spun in the same direction as the swing, sending the thug forward and down.

  Jeff’s throw slowed him enough for the third attacker to grab him from behind in a chokehold. He seized the thug’s thick arm and wrenched, but failed to dislodge the hold.

  There was a thud behind him, and the grip on his throat suddenly slackened. Dana had slipped up behind them and smashed an outsize wrench across the side of the third man’s head. With an explosive grunt the attacker went down. She raised the wrench again, eyes darting from one thug to the next.

  Jeff swung back, saw the leader trying to rise, and kicked him in the side. The second thug was stumbling to his feet, but seemed to have lost enthusiasm, staring at the blood streaming from his comrade’s head.

  “Try to disengage,” murmured Dana. She and Jeff backed away slowly, watching their assailants.

  The two conscious miscreants were cursing under their breaths, but the leader was still on hands and knees, gagging, and the others did not seem minded to follow.

  Jeff said tersely, “I’m eyes behind. You watch ahead.”

  With quick glances in all directions Dana and Jeff made their way crabwise down the street. At the next corner they turned sharply onto a road which seemed to be adequately lit and well-traveled enough to make it unlikely their attackers would follow.

  They strode hurriedly down the street. Jeff was limping—he had taken a kick to the thigh at some point—and his neck felt bruised. Dana seemed unhurt, but her jeans were smudged with grit and her red blouse stuck to her where she was sweating; he doubted she was as calm as she seemed. He would have been more interested in the damp-blouse effect if he were less apprehensive—and felt less awkward about her. “We got off easy there,” he said. “They don’t seem to be following.”

  “Just kids looking for a little fun.” Dana’s voice was acerbic. “Yeah, I agree. Could’ve been a lot worse.” Was her voice shaking a little?

  “You all right?” He tried to keep from sounding as concerned as he was.

  “Okay. How about you?” She glanced at his limp.

  “So far.”

  Dana peered up a
nd down the street. “Back to the car?”

  “I’m not sure I can find the car till there’s light. I’m a bit turned around. Do you recall exactly which way we came?”

  “Can’t say I do. I was hoping you did.”

  “Also, remember, it wouldn’t start. I’m not sure we could get it running even once we found it.”

  “I see what you mean.” Dana moved with short jerky strides, checking each dark corner and alleyway as they passed. “I don’t think I could fix it without full light either.” After a pause she added, “And I still think she’s down here somewhere.”

  “Renee, you mean?”

  “Well, I don’t mean the Princess Aurelie.”

  “It would be easier to find the Princess. At least she wants to be found.”

  They continued walking for a minute or so. Dana said, “Then where exactly are we going?”

  “I think we need to hole up somewhere. I’m beat, and you don’t look too great either.” After a moment he added hastily, “I don’t mean you don’t look okay, I mean–”

  “Relax, pal. I won’t fish for compliments on my radiant beauty; we’ll take it for granted we’re both wiped out.”

  “Ah…right.”

  “I suppose we want a hotel or something, then.” Dana sighed.

  Chapter 7

  Dana rubbed absently at a set of scratches on her right forearm. She wasn’t sure where in the scuffle she had acquired them, and she was too tired to care.

  “You’re telling me you haven’t got more than one room available?” Jeff demanded of the lethargic desk clerk.

  The clerk’s nametag read “Sonny,” but he appeared to be no younger than late middle age. He counted on his fingers, registering deep thought. “Yep, one exactly.”

  “What, is there a convention in town or something?”

  Sonny shrugged. “It ain’t that big a place to begin with, y’know. You wanna go around to the other rooms and bang on the doors and see if somebody yells ‘Occupied,’ won’t take you long. But I can tell ya they’re all filled up ’cept for 203.”

  “One moment.” Jeff stepped back from the counter, motioning Dana with him.

  She stepped away from the counter and faced him, placing her hands on her hips. “So we’re sharing a room, hmm?” She wasn’t at all sure how she felt about that.

  Jeff spread his hands, his expression uneasy. “I’m trying to find another way…”

  “I’d accuse you of planning this one-room-only business, pal, except no one could have predicted this big a mix-up.”

  “But I didn’t—Not that I wouldn’t be honored, ah, I mean–” This disastrous attempt at gallantry clearly gained no ground, and he retreated to a plaintive “I’d get a second one if he had it.”

  “Never mind.” She rolled her eyes, then grinned. “There’s no point in giving you a hard time, I guess. We never expected to end up here.”

  “We could keep looking…”

  “Not sure we want to do much more strolling around this area at night. We might run into some muggers who’re better armed. Or more determined.”

  “Yeah.” Jeff ran his hands through his hair. “At least this seems relatively safe.”

  “And fairly clean, which is more than I might have expected.” Dana eyed the small, shabby lobby critically. “Looks like Hobson’s choice to me.”

  “Okay.” Jeff turned back to the clerk, who was watching this byplay with a sleepy smirk. “We’ll take it.”

  They trudged up the narrow stair to the second floor. The door opened on a sparsely-furnished room—armchair, table with a lamp, dresser with an old CRT television, single large bed. Dana locked the door behind them. “Well, it’s a relief to have a place to hide out, anyway. I feel like I’ve been walking for miles.”

  “Adrenaline reaction, maybe.” Jeff flopped down into the armchair. “You’re probably not used to standing off street toughs on a regular basis.” He began to flex his right hand and wrist, wincing a little.

  “And you are? Is that part of a professor’s regular job?” Dana had never associated Badon’s easy wit and gallantry with Jeff Stanton’s conversations at the garage about car repairs, and the way HC’s voice synthesizers altered tone and resonance had prevented her from recognizing the sound of his voice. But she was beginning to recognize the rhythms of Badon’s speech in Jeff’s. Perhaps she was getting used to the idea, appalling as it had seemed at first.

  “No, you’re thinking of high school. They ought to give hazard pay for that.” He rolled his head from side to side, then probed cautiously at a scrape on the side of his neck.

  Dana was tempted to offer to sponge off his honorable wounds or something, but she was very shy about the idea of touching him. To be sure, it would not be unpleasant. His skin was clear and firm, and his light brown hair curled engagingly at the back of his neck. He seemed younger to her here, in these decidedly informal circumstances, than he had in their college town. She perched cautiously on the edge of the bed. “Now I remember. I guess you’ve never really used your martial arts before?”

  “Right. When I started to move, it was like a practice bout. Everything automatic—reflex. It wasn’t till we were done that I quite realized it wasn’t practice this time.”

  “I know what you mean. The actual fight almost seemed familiar. But later–”

  “It’s a good thing there weren’t more of them. And that they backed off once they got hurt.”

  “Yeah. We lucked out. This time.”

  “You did great, by the way.” Jeff’s voice firmed, and his face gained animation. “The third guy would have brought me down if you hadn’t taken him out first. Do you always carry that big a wrench around?”

  “You never know when you might need one.”

  “A multi-purpose device.” Jeff leaned backward and stretched his arms over his head.

  “The best kind.” She gave an involuntary shiver. “If I’d thought about it beforehand, I might have panicked. I’m not used to violence.”

  “Not in real life.”

  “You get it,” she said. She was glad he understood.

  The pause grew uncomfortable. Dana cast about for something else to focus on. She stood up and bent over the television set, inspecting it with disfavor. “Now here’s a relic even older than your car.” She turned it on and grimaced at the rain of static that appeared. Jerking at the dresser, she shifted it enough to peer at the back of the TV. She pushed and twisted the cable connection without noticeably affecting the display or the white noise from the speakers, then tried the same at the wall connection without success. Tilting her head, she frowned at the adapter box. “Hang it, I left my toolbox in the car.”

  “Can you fix everything?”

  Dana was a little self-conscious. “Well, of course it’s mostly cars—but these days they’re half microprocessors anyway. I’d just be poking around at this thing—don’t know much about video.” She peered around at the snowy screen again. “But there must be something really wrong to get this kind of output.”

  “How’d you get into auto repair?” Jeff said curiously. “Take it up as a hobby?”

  She flicked off the TV and settled down on the edge of the bed again. “I always liked to tinker with things. My dad worked in a car shop—not just repairs, but add-ons, conversions, the whole works. I helped him out when I was a little girl.”

  Jeff smiled, and she let a grin curve her own lips. “Right; I’m sure it took him longer to fix a bent fender with me ‘helping’ than if he’d just done it himself. I kept asking about how things worked, and I always wanted to do it myself. But I did better when I got a little older.” She shook her head a little, reminiscent. “By the time I was, oh, fourteen, I was doing tune-ups and minor mechanical stuff myself, and I got interested in the ways they were using computers to run things in a car.”

  “How did your mother take to it, all this fascination with machines? Some people wouldn’t expect that in a daughter.”

  “She died when I
was eight,” Dana said matter-of-factly.

  He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and looked her in the eye. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up something painful.”

  “Not a problem. It was a long time ago.”

  “In Alliston, or did you come here afterward? If you don’t mind my asking.”

  “I started out working part-time for my dad’s outfit when I was a teenager. When I got to be seventeen or eighteen, I worked more regularly, saving up money to go to college. When my dad died, though, I kinda wanted to strike out, go somewhere else. Turned out my Uncle Jerome was getting ready to retire. He had the shop here in Alliston. He moved to Clearwater, I moved out here and took over the garage. Worked out pretty neatly in the end.”

  “And a good thing for me.”

  Dana’s eyebrows rose. She felt herself coloring.

  “For my car, I mean,” he added hastily. After a moment he said with determination, “No, that’s not what I mean. I’m glad I’ve met you, Dana.”

  “Like we’d never met in all those visits to the garage?” Her words carried mockery, but her tone was gentle.

  “Not like this.” Smothering a yawn, he climbed to his feet. “Sorry. I’m going to nod off any minute now.”

  “Me too. Your yawn’s catching.”

  Jeff opened the small closet, extracted a spare pillow from the top shelf, and tossed it onto the armchair. He turned back to pull down a blanket.

  “What are you doing?” asked Dana.

  “I’ll take the chair. As drowsy as I feel, I can sleep sitting up. You get the bed.”

  Dana stood irresolute. Jeff’s offer headed off a good deal of awkwardness, but it seemed unkind to leave him trying to sleep in a chair, however sanguine he claimed to be at the prospect. Would Rosmara have let him?

  “No, that’s silly. There’s room here for both of us. You’re not going to get much sleep scrunched up in a chair.”

  “Are you sure?” Jeff paused. “I’m perfectly happy—”

  “Nope; I insist. Long as we’re clear,” she hastened to add, “this is not a proposition. Sleep. That’s it.”

  “I would not dare,” Jeff grinned, “to take any liberties with someone as formidable as Rosmara. Nor with a lady who carries a wrench and knows how to use it. You’re safe with me.”