Upgrade

by Richard Parry

  The lasers pierced the flesh of the men’s chests, and something red boiled and burst out their backs. Two perfect hits, and…

  “Fuck me,” said Obie.

  “No,” said Miles. “Fuck me.”

  The two men’s heads turned towards them, sightless eyes seeking. Smoke peeled away from their chests, the edges of the wounds cauterized as they stepped towards them, the panic of the crowd raging around them.

  Mike stepped forward, sidearm raised. He fired three times, white plasma crackling out across the road. The first two shots came quickly, the third a moment later as he waited for a gap in the crowd. The sidearm chewed the top half off of the men in the street, and three bodies fell to the road. He turned back to the enforcers. “Head shots only.”

  “Copy that,” said Miles. Obie nodded, weapon still raised and pointed out to the street.

  “I don’t understand,” said Zacharies. He hadn’t moved, turning to look back at the remains of the man slumped behind him.

  “What’s not to understand?” said Mike. “Drug gone bad. No wonder it’s not backed by a syndicate.”

  “Yeah,” said Obie. “You hear about this kind of thing. Clinical trials take too long, so—”

  “Ship it out to the black market,” cut in Miles. Obie sighed, but Miles ignored him. “See what happens on the street.”

  “No,” said Zacharies. “That’s not what I don’t understand.”

  “What is it, kid?” Mike was checking his sidearm, sighting down the short barrel, then he shoved it back under his jacket.

  “We came out here because…” Zacharies frowned. “You told me about the new drug.”

  “Yeah,” said Mike. “You told me not to take any. I see why.”

  “No,” said Zacharies. “That’s not it. The thing with the master, is…” He frowned. “Why are there only four of them?”

  “What?” Mike frowned. “I don’t get it.”

  “It’s not how they work,” said Zacharies. “The master would only do this if… If he could turn many more people.”

  Obie’s head turned down the street, the crowd having dispersed. “You hear that?”

  Miles nodded. “I hear it. It sounds like… Rain, or something.”

  “Many more,” said Zacharies. “It’s not rain.”

  “It’s not?” said Mike.

  “No,” said Zacharies. He walked out into the street, stretching his neck form side to side. He looked back over his shoulder at the three Metatech men. “It’s an army.”

  A woman, a white apron still tied around her, came sprinting around the corner about a block up. Her head moved from side to side, sightless eyes staring, then she turned to them. She screamed and started running towards them.

  “This doesn’t look so bad,” said Miles.

  That’s when the rest poured around the corner, like beetles from a jar. Zacharies took a step back. There weren’t four. There weren’t ten. There were fifty. A hundred.

  The slapping of their sprinting feet sounded like rain on the earth, before it was drowned out as their screaming filled the air.

  ⚔ ⚛ ⚔

  Zacharies held a hand to the side of his head, his fingers coming back red and sticky. It must have been from when Mike shot the —

  Seeker. Seekers are here.

  — man behind him in the doorway. He shook his head, then looked up at the bodies littering the street in front of him. The woman with the apron was there, torso sheared from her legs by a laser. The man behind her, his Toys ‘R’ Us uniform yellow with smears of red and black. The remains of a child, the head missing, its hand still clutching at a plastic doll.

  It had happened faster than thought, the three Metatech men moving and firing together like they shared a single mind. Bodies had burned, exploded, spun, and died.

  “There will be more.” Zacharies touched his ear again, then looked at Mike. “This is just the beginning.”

  Obie was on one knee in the street, laser rifle sighted down over the bodies. “More?” He ejected a black rectangle from the bottom of his weapon, the battery trailing smoke as it bounced and clattered on the street. He slapped a fresh one into the rifle, the weapon cycling lights along its length, coming alive with a soft breath, the chuff of a hunting cat.

  Mike held his sidearm low, turning between the bodies and Zacharies. “Zach? What just happened?”

  “Yeah,” said Miles. “I ain’t never seen a drug like that.”

  “It’s the demon,” said Zacharies.

  “Ok,” said Miles. He glanced at Obie, the other man shaking his head. “Demon?”

  “Demon,” said Zacharies. He held a hand out down the street. “We call them seekers.”

  “Seekers,” said Mike. “This isn’t a morningtown ride, kid.”

  Zacharies blinked. “No, it’s not a ride, Mike. It’s the… It’s how they find you.”

  Miles turned to Zacharies, leaning his rifle against a shoulder. “Right,” he said. “They found us.” He looked down the street, then back at Zacharies. “What was the point?”

  Zacharies felt something helpless touch at him, pushed it back down. “The master is trying to take over Heaven and all of its people. He has a water demon.”

  “Water, right,” said Mike. “Like the rain.”

  “Like your blood,” said Zacharies. He paused for a few seconds, letting that sink in. “The demon can live anywhere there is water. It’s how it spreads, from person to person. They sacked the city of Abinal when I was… I was younger, then.”

  “Abinal?” Zacharies could see Obie’s frown in the set of his jaw. “That a place?”

  “Not anymore,” said Zacharies. “Not here. It’s where Laia was born. The rain came first, and those who couldn’t get out from under it became seekers first. They spread it. A kiss. A shared cup of tea, served hot and sweet in the garden bars of the upper town.” He held out a hand to the sidewalk, the vial white against the dirty concrete. “Drugs of any kind, as long as they have water. Sex. And for all that’s left, for the loveless and the friendless, who have no happiness to share with friends or family, a bite into flesh.”

  “Hold up,” said Mike. He glanced down the street, then at Obie and Miles. “Obie? Up the end of the street where those freaks came from. Miles. Other end.”

  The two men nodded, jogging off in separate directions. Mike watched Obie’s back for a moment, then turned back to Zacharies. “Before your master arrived—”

  “Before the rift into Heaven.”

  “Ok, sure. Before the rift. Whatever. Before he arrived,” said Mike, “the rain just made people see shit.”

  “The demon is its own thing, and a part of the master at the same time,” said Zacharies. “Without the master to guide it, it is…” He stopped, thinking. “It’s like a child without a teacher. Thoughtless, willful.”

  “Lotta people saw shit. Weird shit,” said Mike.

  “Yes,” said Zacharies. “I think they might have.”

  “How do you avoid it?” Mike took a step closer, looking into Zacharies’ face. “How have you lived with it?”

  “The master used different tools on us,” said Zacharies, turning away. “He uses himself.”

  He could hear Mike shift behind him before his friend spoke again. “What’s that mean, Zach? What did he do?”

  “Pray you never find out,” said Zacharies, thinking of Laia and the way she cried out in the night. He turned back to Mike. “Do you pray?”

  “No,” said Mike.

  “Neither do I,” said Zacharies. “Your gods and angels have never answered. I thought perhaps here, they might hear your voices clearly, without the barrier of distance.”

  “No,” said Mike. “God checked out a long time ago.” He sighed. “You said there would be more?”

  “Usually,” said Zacharies. “It’s like a sickness. It spreads. It needs a little time to…” He groped for the right word in this language, the link tapping at the back of his mind. “Reconfigure.”

  “Ho
w many more?” Mike frowned. “How long does it take?”

  “Abinal was a mighty city, a full half a million souls. A cadre of no less than seven hundred Wardens guarded the hearts and minds of its citizens. It fell completely in three days.”

  “Ah,” said Mike. “Right you are.”

  “Yes,” said Zacharies. “We should prepare for the end.”

  “What?” said Mike. “Hell no. No space wizard is coming in here and taking over my city. I’ve got stock, kid.”

  Zacharies laughed. “Ok, Mike. What are we going to do?”

  “Well,” said Mike. “We’re going to meet up with… a contact.”

  “A contact?”

  “From Apsel Federate,” said Mike. “He and I have… Well, we have an understanding.”

  Zacharies stepped forward. “The angel?”

  It was Mike’s turn to laugh. “He ain’t no angel, kid. Not even a little bit.”

  “Is Laia with him?”

  “I sure hope so,” said Mike. “That’s what he said, anyway. We’re going to meet him this afternoon.”

  “Where?” Zacharies took a step forward, his hand almost coming to touch Mike’s arm. “Where is she? Where’s my sister?”

  “Easy, kid,” said Mike. “There’s an old park, buried in the middle of the city. No one goes there apart from pedophiles and muggers. Actually,” he said, tugging at an ear, “that’s a problem I’m hoping will sort itself out.”

  “Where? Where in the park?”

  “It’s why I brought Obie and Miles,” said Mike. “We’ll be going to the heart of the park. There’s an old fair ground there, got a ferris wheel, or what’s left of one. They moved it from the edge of the sea when the smell got too bad. Used to charge kids a couple bucks a throw—”

  “Mike,” said Zacharies. “What about my sister?”

  “Sure,” said Mike. “She’ll be there. Laia and Mason Floyd both. We’ll need Obie and Miles to be sure we can cut a path in, and then we’ll extract them.”

  “Let’s go, then,” said Zacharies, looking around at the bodies on the ground. “There is no time to waste.”

  “There’s a little time,” said Mike, watching as one of the fallen bodies craned to look at them. Zacharies looked between the fallen seeker and Mike, his brow furrowing as Mike spoke a little louder, a little clearer. “Meeting’s not until 2pm. Time enough for a warm beer and a cold hot dog.”

  Zacharies looked at the sky, raising a hand to shade his eyes against the glare. The star that looked down on Heaven was smaller and brighter than the one that sat, fat and orange in the sky of his home. “You can eat? At a time like this?”

  “Calories, kid,” said Mike, still speaking loud and clear. “It’s all about calories. C’mon. We’ve got time before that big meeting. With Mason Floyd. And your sister.” He slapped Zacharies on the shoulder, rotating him away from the seeker watching them. Zacharies let himself be turned and moved back along the street, Obie and Miles falling in behind them.

  The seeker’s sightless eyes watched them. The creature tried to pull itself after them, to continue to listen to what they were saying, but it didn’t have any legs. It tipped its head to the side as if it was listening, and let out a hiss as they moved too far away to hear. It didn’t matter. It knew the time, and the place. Its master must know everything that happened here.

  Everything.

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  “Why,” said Laia, “do you drink this?”

  “Same reason as you,” said Mason, across the small table from her. “Maybe different reasons too.”

  “Do you miss someone as well?” Laia reached for the bottle, topping off her glass. “Have you lost someone?”

  “No,” said Mason. “Not anyone important.”

  “Who was it?”

  “I said it wasn’t anyone important.” The angel — she mustn’t think of him like that, he said not to — frowned at her, something reflected back in his eyes in the dim light of the room. “He was no one.”

  “I miss my brother,” said Laia. “I want to go find him.”

  “That’s not a great idea,” said Mason, leaning back further into his chair. “Not right now.”

  “But—” Laia caught herself, tried to lower her voice. “You’re an angel. You could find him. You could bring him here.”

  She watched as Mason turned his empty glass over in his hands, a little liquid running out and down one of his palms. He seemed to think for a moment, then placed the glass in front of him on the edge of the table. He reached forward, picking up the bottle. “Let’s say for a minute that I’m an angel.”

  Laia said nothing, watching as he unscrewed the top of the bottle — so precise, even the things they throw away as garbage in Heaven are created perfect, beautiful — and poured splashes of the liquid into the glass.

  “Let’s also say we’re in Heaven.” He put the bottle down next to his glass. “There’s a… a bit of a weakness in the plan of storming the gates and rescuing the fair princess.”

  Laia frowned. “Zacharies is not a… He’s a boy. He’s not a princess. He’s a boy.” Her voice slurred a little on the last word, stretching out the vowel.

  She felt rather than saw Mason’s half-smile. “Right. Fair point. But back to the problem. What would Heaven be full of?”

  “Angels,” said Laia.

  “Right again. And if we’re all angels, how easy is it to go storm the gates? Me against another dude, that’s probably fair. Against two, the odds look grim.” He took a sip from his whisky. “Three or more, and I’m toast. I’m just another corpse, waiting for retrieval and memory uplift.”

  Laia frowned. “The prophecy says that the angel who saves our world will be strong, and valiant. Fearless.”

  Mason laughed. “Fearless?”

  “Yes,” she said. She looked down, ashamed. “It is written.”

  “I seen a lot of things,” he said. “I’ve never met a man without fear.”

  “I have,” said Laia. “I have seen it.”

  “Yeah?” said Mason. “When?”

  “When you faced down a hundred of those… A hundred or more monsters, alone.”

  “I wasn’t alone,” said Mason. “You were there.”

  “No,” said Laia. “You don’t let us in. You’re always alone.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  Sadie paced the room, black boots slamming against the wooden floor. She felt — caged? — stuck here, a prisoner of the empty town. She wanted the crowd. She wanted the mic. She stopped to look out through the broken windows, the empty street. If she leaned out enough she’d be able to see the edge of the bottle store where Mason was getting drunk. Again.

  Drunk, and not getting them back to the world. Her eyes drifted back inside, and she looked at the radio. Fuckit. She grabbed the mic, clicked the button. “Yo. Company woman.”

  There was a hiss of static, then, “We don’t really like that term, you know. It’s like calling you an illegal.”

  Sadie snorted. “It’s not like that at all, and you know it,” she said. “We illegals don’t own the world.”

  Something in the radio clicked to itself before the woman answered. “We don’t own the world.”

  “Yeah,” said Sadie, “near enough you do.”

  “Call me Carter,” said the woman. “Can you do that?”

  “Ok, Carter,” said Sadie. “Can you do something for me in return?”

  “Uh,” said Carter. “Maybe.”

  “Is it always a contract with you people?” said Sadie. “You don’t even know what I’m going to ask.”

  “I think I do,” said Carter. “I’m good at that shit.”

  “What shit?”

  “People,” said Carter, the word softened in the middle by a rush of static. “I’m good at people.”

  “Are you good at modesty too?” Sadie frowned at the radio. “Among your many talents?”

  “Yes,” said Carter. “I assume nothing other than the truth about what I do. You could
almost say I was made that way.”

  “You’re bizarre for a company woman,” said Sadie.

  “Talked to many company women?” said Carter. “I mean, you know, for longer than it takes to call them a cunt and spit on their shoes.”

  Sadie laughed. “You know what, Carter?”

  “What?”

  “You are good at people.” Sadie walked to the wall where the guitar leaned, the strings glinting with the desire to be touched. She reached out, hesitating for just a moment before grabbing the neck. Sadie used the edge of her boot to turn the amp on with a flick of the big switch on the front. It hummed for a moment before quieting down.

  “What was that?” said Carter. “Are you alone?”

  “Sort of,” said Sadie. “Mason and Laia are down a couple doors, getting drunk.”

  “He does that a lot,” said Carter. “It’s one of his many talents.”

  “Talent?” said Sadie. “I’m not sure I’d call it that.”

  “I dunno,” said Carter, the radio chattering for a moment. “The ability to forget? That’s a unique talent in his line of work.”

  “He doesn’t really forget,” said Sadie, dragging an old chair closer to the table where the radio stood. She sat, threw her feet up on the edge of the table, and cradled the guitar. “Does he, Carter?”

  The radio was silent for a moment, long enough that Sadie looked up from her guitar, about to repeat her question. “No,” said Carter. “He doesn’t really forget anything. It’s why I like him.”

  “You like him?” Sadie strummed the guitar, winced, twisted one of the tuning keys. “Is that in your job description?”

  The other woman laughed. “Oh,” she said. “I can see why he likes you.”

  Sadie frowned, strumming the guitar again. “He doesn’t like me. He’s keeping me a prisoner in a city at the edge of the world. There’s not even room service here.”