“Sir,” said a tech, behind him.
Julian turned on the man, annoyed. “I’m working.”
“Yes, sir,” said the tech. “But they’re not.” The man jerked a thumb back over his shoulder at a group who were supposed to be working near one of the windows. Julian looked above them at the cracked glass and open windows, then back down.
Three men, two women. All were standing, dumb as stones. More curious. Julian turned to the tech, pulling out his sidearm. “Clear the room.”
“Sir?”
“The room. Clear it.”
The tech nodded, people already moving, orders passing over the link. People moved to the front door of the building and outside, huddling in jackets against the rain.
Julian walked over to the five men and women near the window. “Hey, assholes,” he said. “You’re not getting paid by the hour. Get back to work.”
None of them moved, and Julian walked closer. Their eyes were blank, lifeless, staring into space. He raised a hand in front of one woman’s face, waving it. Her eyes didn’t track.
One of the men to his left twitched, then his eyes looked at Julian. He raised hands, grabbing at Julian, but the lattice pulled Julian aside. He raised his sidearm, and shot the man in the face. The body dropped.
The other four shook to life, their heads turning like one to face Julian. They started to shamble forward. “Eckers,” said Julian.
Eckers was standing behind the other man, across the room. “You know how I said the rain was in the box?”
“Yeah,” said Julian, pushing one of the women back. He hated shooting women. It had a small but statistically relevant negative effect on his bonus. Still. He raised the sidearm again, shooting twice, once into each leg. She dropped without a sound, but tried to claw across the ground towards him.
Best keep one of the men alive too for examination. He shot one of the men twice, taking out his legs, then eyed up the other two. Shrugging, he shot them each once in the head, their bodies dropping.
Julian walked back towards Eckers and the man from the sphere. “That was unexpected,” he said, leaning down over the man with the shemagh. The cloth had fallen free, showing all of the man’s face. “What did you do to my people, asshole?”
The man on the ground grinned up at him through the pain of his broken hand, saying something. NO LINGUISTIC MATCH flashed up again. “For crying out loud,” said Julian.
That’s when he heard the sound outside, someone yelling in alarm, then a woman’s scream. There was a shot, then another, followed by the bass roar of a plasma weapon.
Julian looked at Eckers. “Don’t move. I’m going to check this out.”
“Sure,” said Eckers, looking at the man on the ground, then massaging his throat. “Sure.”
Julian walked to the door, opening it into the rain that lashed the street outside. The men and women of his team were clawing at each other, the rain slicking down around them. The wind howled, and Julian saw someone near a vehicle with a plasma weapon firing it into the press of chaos around him.
Looking behind him at the man on the ground, Julian stepped out into the rain. He raised his sidearm, shooting the man with the plasma cannon in the head. The lattice pulled him to the left sharp and sudden, and blast from a shotgun hitting the wall behind where he’d been standing. He stepped out onto the street, raising his sidearm.
He kept firing until his weapon ran dry, then ejected the clip, slapping another one in place. He grabbed at a someone who ran at him, the man gibbering and screaming into his face, fingers raking like claws. Julian ignored it, the skin of the remote unmarked, and threw the man away back into the press of bodies.
He keyed his uplink.
“I’m going to need another team,” he said. “And a psych unit.” He turned away from the madness on the street and walked back into the bar, locking the door behind him.
The man on the floor saw him, and started to grin at Julian. The grin fell away as Julian stepped wet footprints across the floor. He reached for the chair.
“We’ve got us about ten minutes until the second team arrives,” he said, lifting the other man upright, putting him into the chair. “Let’s see whether we can find some common ground in that time, shall we?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The light stabbed at her eyes, almost a physical thing. Sadie wanted to throw up, constant motion jarring her. She was in a — what, a car? A van? The feeling of nausea rose powerful and sudden, and she almost retched.
Instead, she said, “Get that thing the fuck out of my face.”
The light pulled away, replaced by a face. A woman, blonde hair around a too-pretty face. Company woman. Sadie turned her head to the side and coughed. “You got a cigarette?”
The woman looked down at her, a frown crossing her face. “You’ve got a concussion. I hardly think—”
“You a doctor?” The vehicle was jarred again as something harsh grated underneath them.
Surprise crossed the woman’s face. “I — no.”
“Ok then. You got a cigarette?” Sadie rubbed her face, pulling her hand back with a hiss at the pain. What had —
Aldo grabbed her face, smashing her into the mirror. Glass fell away behind her, and she tumbled to the floor.
“Fuck,” said Sadie.
“What is it?” said the woman.
“I left my guitar back there.” Sadie’s palms itched to hold it, and she rubbed them against her leather pants. “How you getting on with that cigarette?”
The woman’s face pulled away, something — maybe a smile, maybe nothing — tugging at the edges of it. Voices came from the front of the vehicle. Something familiar, something she’d heard before —
Do you know a back way out of here?
I can remember now.
— something company. She touched her face again, careful with her fingers as she let them walk across her lips. Her lower jaw hurt, and her teeth felt loose. One of her eyes wasn’t working right, but her head didn’t hurt so bad anymore.
At least she could remember.
A pack was offered to her, silver foils nestled inside. She pulled one out, accepting the offered light. The woman had to strike the lighter once, twice before it caught.
“Not a smoker then?” said Sadie, drawing in deep. Damn. They were good. They tasted familiar, like a forgotten hint of caviar she’d had at a cousin’s wedding. The air cycler in the van wicked away the smoke as if it had never been, the interior cool and clean.
The woman pocketed the packet. “No. They belong to… They’re not mine.”
“Whoever he is, he’s got good taste.” Sadie looked around the van, taking in a small huddle near the side door. She could see the back of the driver’s head, the helmet subtle white in the dim interior. The huddle moved, an arm reaching out to pull the blanket higher. “We got another passenger?”
“Yes,” said the woman. She held out her hand. “I’m Jenni. Jenni Haraway.”
Sadie shook the hand. “Apsel?”
“What?” said Haraway.
“I said, ‘Apsel.’ Like, are you with him.” She pointed with her chin at the driver.
The driver spoke. “Don’t waste your time, Haraway. Bonus Round doesn’t trust people like us.”
Bonus Round. Sadie’s lips cracked into a smile, then she swallowed it. She raised her voice. “That’s right, company man.” She laughed. “What are the odds. I should have known when I tasted the cigarette.”
Haraway turned to look over her shoulder at the driver, then back to Sadie. “You know each other?”
The driver didn’t turn, focusing on something outside the van. Sadie couldn’t see the dash from where she was, but the soft amber of the display reflected against the sides of his helmet. The rain outside made visibility zero, and the van’s windshield was overlaid with wireframes of vehicles and buildings. “Sort of. I don’t mean to be rude, but—”
Something bright lit the night outside the van, white spearing across the wi
ndshield, making the amber wireframes invisible for a second. The driver swung the van hard to the right, Sadie falling to her side. Haraway grabbed onto a strap from the wall, and the person in the bundle of blankets rocked against the wall.
The van clunked as the driver did something at the front, then the drive kicked hard and the machine pushed forward.
Haraway turned back to Sadie. “It’s been an interesting evening.”
“Where’s Aldo?”
“Aldo?” Haraway looked puzzled. “Who’s Aldo?”
“My drummer,” said Sadie. “Something else, once.”
“Long black hair? Thin guy?”
“Yeah,” said Sadie. “That’s him.”
Haraway sighed. “I wouldn’t… Let’s just get out of this first, ok?”
Sadie flicked her eyes to the front. “He’s an asshole.”
“Who?” Haraway looked back at the driver. “Mason?”
Mason Floyd. The name clicked back into place, and Sadie took another pull on the cigarette. “Either one, I guess.”
“Mason’s… Efficient,” said Haraway. “I’m lucky he and Carter were there.”
Sadie looked at the bundle of blankets. “That Carter?”
Haraway turned to look at the blankets. “Her? No. Carter’s—”
“Company. I get it.” Sadie ground the cigarette out against one of the walls of the van, ignoring Haraway’s frown. “Who’s that, then?”
“A… She’s a girl. I guess mid-teens.”
“Not with Apsel?” Sadie’s eyes look around the van, picking out the colors. Ah. “Your evening’s not going well, is it?”
“Why do you ask?” Haraway steadied herself against the wall again as the van rocked. Mason swore, then started tapping buttons at the front. The drive spoke back, the whine increasing until it was supersonic. Something in the wall of the van started to vibrate, a rattling, pinking sound.
“Aside from you fuckers abducting me in a van?” Sadie laughed. “It’s not your van.”
“Not our..?”
“These aren’t Apsel colors.” Sadie waved at the van. “I don’t know, not very German, is it?”
Haraway frowned again. “It’s a Reed van. I think.” She looked back at Mason. “I’d have to admit to not being really on form at the time.”
“You got another?”
“What?” Haraway looked confused. “Another van? Why?”
“Cigarette,” said Sadie. “That last one was good.”
Haraway looked at her for a second, then laughed, handing her the packet and lighter. “Here. Help yourself.”
“Thanks,” said Sadie, around the edge of a filter. She flicked the light on. “I could get used to being abducted by the company.”
“It’s not like that,” said Haraway. “How much do you remember?”
“Not a lot,” said Sadie. “I remember him, though.”
“Mason?”
“Yeah.”
You’ll find a room where you can go fuck yourself.
Ok.
A single hammer drop of sound, and Aldo’s leg was in tatters. He fell, screaming, and Sadie —
She shuddered, hugging herself. “Not from tonight. I mean, sure, I remember that, but…” Sadie pulled on the cigarette again. Her hands were shaking, and she clenched them into fists.
“Haraway,” said Mason. “Haraway, look. I don’t mean to break up your Kodak moment, but—”
“Coming,” said Haraway, looking at Sadie. “I’ll be right back.”
“Take your time,” said Sadie. Bonus Round. That’s where she knew him from. She looked over at the girl huddling inside the rags, and scooted over to her. “Hi.”
Wide eyes looked up at her, and the girl said something. Sadie smiled. “I don’t know what you’re saying, but sure.” She offered the packet of Treasurers to the girl.
The girl looked at them and back to Sadie. She didn’t move.
“It’s not poison,” said Sadie. “Not the worst kind, anyway.” She pulled a cigarette out, lit it from her own, and handed it to the girl. “It’ll help.” Sadie took her own cigarette and gave it a pull.
The girl watched her, the took the silver tip between her lips. Thin. Hungry. Been on the streets a while. She drew in a big breath, then coughed, a hard sound in the back of the van.
Sadie laughed. “Yeah, first time’s always a bit rough.” She drew on her own cigarette again.
The girl looked at her, then back at the silver tip of the Treasurer, hard and silver in the gloom of the van. The vehicle rocked again, and Sadie frowned. The girl took another puff, smaller this time, coughing anyway.
Sadie smiled at her. “You have no idea what the hell is going on, do you?”
The girl said something back, the babble of sound almost familiar.
“Me neither,” said Sadie. “Look, sit tight. I’ll see what these company fucks have got us into, ok?”
She stood, legs shaky, steadying herself against the wall of the van. Her head pounded, and she stood for a moment before moving to the front. Haraway was huddled behind the driver.
“There’s got to be a way,” said Mason.
“I’m not that kind of scientist,” said Haraway.
“You know fusion reactors — Jesus!” Something bright scarred the street in front of them, Mason yanking the controls as they moved around. Sadie could see out the front of the van, the city full of vehicles moving and screaming past them as Mason pushed the van faster and harder. She saw a number on the dash, 257 big and bright and orange, watching as it ticked up to 258, then 259. It ducked down to 242 as Mason swerved around a truck, the big machine roaring and chattering as they blew past it.
“Is that the speed?” said Sadie. “Tell me that’s not the speed.”
Mason looked around at her. “Can you do anything to help?”
“I don’t know,” said Sadie.
“Then get in the back,” he said, helmet turning back to the front. “I need to lose these assholes, and I need to do it before we run out of traffic.”
“What about Carter?” said Haraway.
The night flashed again, and something high in the sky flared into an orange cloud. The amber of the windshield faded back in.
Mason laughed. “Don’t worry about Carter. Worry about the tracker in this van.”
Sadie nodded, then moved back into the middle of the van. She looked around, took in the —
Jesus. There was blood all over one of the walls, the inside wall opposite the girl coated in it. Sadie looked down at the floor, then at the racks on the walls.
No seats.
She turned to the girl on the floor. “These vans are used for two things,” she said, pulling a rifle from the wall. “They either send a bunch of dudes to kill people, or they send a bunch of dudes to capture people.”
The girl said something back.
“That’s right,” said Sadie. “No seats. Not a comfort bus.” She checked the weapon she held, then pointed it at the floor in the middle of the van. She squeezed the trigger, the weapon barking loud, muzzle flash strobing bright in the dark of the van. The floor opened up below her, the tarmac racing by, a blur in the dark. Air howled and sucked rain into the van, Sadie’s hair billowing out around her face.
“Christ!” said Mason. “What the hell are you doing?” To his credit, the man didn’t crash, the van steady on the road. Something red flashed in the front, and an alarm sounded.
“Just solving your problem,” said Sadie. She had to raise her voice over the noise. “They won’t be tracking us anymore.”
“They… What?”
“The tracker. On the van,” she said. “They mount them on the underside, in the middle.”
“How—”
“Look, company man,” said Sadie. “Just drive the van. When your father or sister or some other person is taken by the company for re-education, you can think about how you’d find out how to disable their trackers and get them back.”
Haraway looked between the two of
them. “Is it gone?”
“Carter thinks so,” said Mason. Something in the air flashed again, much closer this time, the explosion pushing the air aside with a rumble. “She’s just cleaning up.”
Sadie tossed the gun to the floor of the van, watching as it rattled and shook. “What next?”
Mason tipped his head to the side, still looking out the front. “I need to get us lost,” he said. “I know a place.”
The girl behind Sadie spoke. Tough, thought Sadie. Most people would have freaked in this situation. She turned back to Mason. “How about some food?”
“You’re… You’re hungry?”
“No,” said Sadie. “I want to puke.” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder at the girl in the back. “She looks like she’s starving though. Like, actually starving.”
Mason left one hand on the wheel, helmet turning back to the girl in the back. He turned back to the road, the van slowing down. “Yeah, ok,” he said. “Haraway?”
“What?” said Haraway.
“You’re in charge. Where to?”
“Well…” Haraway looked lost.
“Ok,” said Mason. “Get comfortable in the back. Take Bonus Round back with you.”
“There’s no seats,” said Haraway.
Mason nodded. “See that girl on the floor?”
“Yeah,” said Haraway.
“See her complaining about no seats?”
Haraway closed her mouth and moved towards the back of the van, pushing past Sadie.
Bonus Round. Sadie smiled again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
“How fucked is he?” said Harry.
“Hard to tell,” said Lace. “Carter says she’s lost him.”
Harry swiveled around, looking at the others in the room. “Really. Carter lost someone.”
“That’s what she said,” said Lace. “It’s hard to know for sure.”
“What? Why?” Harry shook his arm, and a fragment of metal fell from one of the joints. “Carter and you not seeing eye to eye?”
“It’s not like that, Harry,” said Carter, he voice cutting in clear in the link. “Wait a sec. I’ll be right back.” Her icon flicked away.
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