Velvet Dogma About 3300 wds

by Ochse, Weston

  Rebecca held up her hand. "Wait, I think I get it. It comes from the belly of a mother cat? Is it...cat milk?"

  "You've gotta be kidding me," Andy whispered.

  "Oh, yes. Like a cow but in the being of smaller. It takes much patience to be in this cat milking business and Noni is one of the best."

  Rebecca couldn't help but laugh as she looked at Andy. His tongue seemed like it was trying to crawl out of his face. She could have sworn he was crying, but she was too busy laughing hysterically to pay attention.

  Chapter 22

  By late afternoon they were almost ready to go. Rebecca enjoyed the feel and freedom of the new clothes she'd been given. She straightened the Nehru collar, then adjusted the pack she carried over her shoulder. They'd given her another change of clothes, as well as a set of handmade combs and a collection of tiny plastic bottles filled with scented oils. The simple one pocket flowered cotton bag hung from her shoulder by a length of braided hemp. She realized that it contained all of her earthly possessions. Looking around at the inhabitants of the slum, she become conscious of the fact that she was the poorest of them all.

  Andy, Darshan and herself had spent several hours huddled behind closed doors hatching plan after plan. Darshan used his own POD to access the ID. Andy didn't want to bring any attention to himself right now. He had no doubt his ID persona had been flagged and would be traced if he uploaded, so the less he was on the grid, the better.

  At first they'd decided that Rebecca would take the first shuttle east so she could get to the Mammoth Cave complex. Andy would stay behind to organize the gravBoarders for a rescue attempt…that is, as soon as they found where Panchet was being held.

  But they scratched that plan when Rebecca absolutely refused to leave without Andy. She just didn't want him out of her sight for too long, so she'd thrown in with Andy in his attempt to save Panchet. She liked the strange little troll and didn't want to see him hurt. Andy was even now speaking with the gravBoarders through Darshan, trying to gain their cooperation and at the same time learn what they knew.

  But this was a give and take. Rebecca would help Andy, but he had to help her too. She'd decided that there were two loose ends that she had to tie up—her grandma and Thelma Jones. She knew that Andy wouldn't want her to go, but she'd made her decision and there was nothing that he could do to stop her. Rebecca needed to be sure that the last two people that she knew were all right before she left Los Angeles forever.

  With the help of Darshan, she'd discovered that Thelma worked at selling vids at a kiosk on La Brea. Of her grandma, there was no trace, no trace at all. This told her everything she had been afraid to ask. The woman had died and been harvested. When Andy came to tell her, Rebecca begged for a few moments to collect herself.

  Even before Rebecca made it to her hut, tears poured down her face. Her sobs couldn't come fast enough. Part of her wanted to die so she could stop running and be with her grandma, be with David. But the other part, the part that had sent her to prison and had allowed her to survive it, reminded her that she wasn't allowed such meaningless selfishness. She wasn't allowed to just throw it all away. The world needed her more than she needed herself. She had a responsibility to society, and if she managed to succeed, would make her grandma, wherever she'd ended up, more proud of her than she deserved.

  That left Thelma. Rebecca had no intention of actually contacting the woman. The last thing she needed was another friend of hers dying in front of her. Before it had been accidental. Now that she knew the cause it would be murder, or at best, manslaughter. The difference between the two in the dark side of her heart was as insignificant as an apology to the dead. All she wanted to do was look at the woman and see for herself that she was okay. Then they could be on their way.

  Andy left the hut, pulling shut the cinch on a hard leather bag. Inside rested the silica square from Cody Larkins' laboratory. They had an idea about what was inside and didn't dare throw it away. When they got to Mammoth Cave they'd hook it up to the system and find out for sure. He put an arm on her shoulder. "Ready?"

  "Does the pope wear a white hat?"

  "What?"

  "It's a joke. Yes, I'm ready."

  Then he grinned as he got it. "Darshan, goodbye and thank you."

  "Goodbye, Andy Hoke and Rebecca Mines. Was I not saying that my hospitality is something full of greatness?"

  "Yes you did, Darshan." She stepped over to him and hugged him. "Thank you for your hospitality."

  He stared at her with an odd look in his eye as she released him. Then he smiled and cried simultaneously. "If you are ever in the slum, Velvet Dogma, look me up. Until then," he waved as they left, "I'll be waiting for you!" Then he turned and was lost in the swirl of the slum.

  "It's just us now," Andy said.

  There was no need to respond. Instead she spent the next few minutes taking in the sights and sounds of the slum like one might drink water before a great trek across the desert. It was so full of life, so full of color and sound, so full of the pain and joy of living. She felt a tear brimming the edge of her eye, but she wouldn't let it go. She squeezed shut her eye and kept it for another time. She had a feeling she'd need them, and this one was precious to her.

  The official entrance to the Slum was where Hollywood Park Racetrack had once been, only it wasn't in Hollywood as the name would lend to believe. The racetrack was in Crenshaw, the reason that the city had never been cleaned up after the Tsunami. Because this part of L.A. had been the cradle of the Crips and the Bloods and the West Coast Gangster scene, no one wanted to see the neighborhood returned to what it once was. The official entrance was marked by a sign that read Los Angeles Emergency Relocation Zone. At one time someone in the city government might have considered this a temporary state, but too many years had passed since the Tsunami. There was nothing emergency about it.

  Three pillars rose across the pedestrian path like totem poles. People passed by the pillars oblivious to their purpose. A couple leaned against one, making out. A gravBoarder leaned against another, his hooded lids making him James Dean cool. Three policemen stood off to the left, their eyes watching everyone.

  This was the moment they'd worried about. Either the EMP pulse had short-circuited the chips in Rebecca's organs or they were still working and would alert every policeman in the jurisdiction to her whereabouts. All they had to do was exit the slum like everything was normal and hope that the Day Eaters had destroyed the tiny chips.

  "Now or never," muttered Andy. He readjusted the bag over his shoulder and strode through.

  Rebecca followed close behind. She kept her head down, her eyes fixed on the ground in front of her. She didn't dare look up. If any of the police saw the fear in her eyes they'd stop her for sure.

  Five meters.

  Ten.

  Then twenty meters through and no flashing lights. No sirens or platoons of rushing policemen. Or were they waiting for something.

  Andy stopped at the corner of a dilapidated brick building and spoke with a pair of gravBoarders. She recognized them. One was Pony who'd taken her before and the other was the boarder who'd driven Andy. She thought his name was Scoundrel.

  Andy beckoned for her to hurry over. "The Good news is your chips are inactive. The bad news is that they're looking for us here. See that thing up there?" He pointed to what looked like a rectangular megaphone on the wall facing the slum exit directly above them. The mechanism was brand new, the metal glistening in the sunlight next to the mottled and crumbling brick.

  "What is it?"

  "Biometric reader."

  A machine that compared facial and body features to database constructs. Damn! They had to have her on file. It was only a matter of—

  The three policemen turned towards them. Rebecca could see the lens of their PODs rotating as if they were zooming in on her. They chucked their coffees down and headed towards her, their hands unlashing their batons.

  "Damn. I thought we'd have longer. Pony?"

&nbs
p; The gravBoarder nodded, flipped the board down to hover, then hopped aboard, the fiber-optic cables locking into his calf inputs. Rebecca didn't need an invitation. She'd done this before. Grabbing his shoulder for balance, she hopped aboard, shifting her arms at the last minute to encircle his chest.

  The gravBoard leaped forward through the crowd. A man shoved a woman out of the way of their ballistic ride, barely escaping being run down as Pony adjusted at the last second.

  "Stop—Rebecca Mines. Stop!"

  She didn't turn around. She didn't have to. She wasn't going back. Not now. Not ever.

  Pony banked off a parked car, shredding the window with the anti-grav energy. He spun left onto Century away from the airport, then took an immediate right onto Crenshaw. Six lanes wide, most of the traffic was comprised of commercial transports and public transit. There were very few private autos—those went through the tubes.

  Which was wonderful, because Andy had gone no more than a block before a police cruiser jerked onto the road behind them. It cycled its siren to unbearable decibels, then poured on the speed. Public and commercial vehicles the length of the road pulled to the side as if they were controlled by a central computer, leaving the road in front of them relatively clear.

  Pony and his partner took advantage of this. Just as the cruiser got close enough for her to see the green eyes of its driver, the gravBoard left it like it was standing still. It went so fast, faster than she'd ever even contemplated, that she couldn't see. She was blinded by the buffeting wind—one infinitesimal wrong move and they'd become atomizing particles in a universe of pain.

  She didn't know how long she'd closed her eyes, but it couldn't have been more than a few seconds. The gravBoard slowed almost to a stop, her weight pressing against Pony's as momentum pushed her forward. Across the width of the road to their front was a glimmering wall of iridescent purple. She could see police cruisers waiting for them on the other side, the policemen standing ready with batons tapping against their open palms.

  "Anti-grav shield!" Pony cursed. To their left was a four story post-Tsunami apartment building. To their right was a retaining girder for the skyway and twenty foot high fence separating them from a subdivision of post-Tsunami homes hardly better than the ones that had been swept away.

  "What about up there?" she pointed to the roof of the building. The shield rose four stories, but she bet that Pony could jump it if given the chance. On the other side of the shield was an old fashioned billboard with a walking rail in the front. She gauged it to be about two stories high.

  "How?" he turned and gave her a crazed look.

  "The stairs!" she laughed at his expression. "What? Are you afraid?"

  He didn't respond, instead just took off toward the front of the building. Who was the crazy person now? The front door was open to the entryway, but that was as far as it went. The stairs were the type that went up half a flight, then redoubled on themselves. Pony didn't hesitate. He spun the gravBoard and hit the first flight of stairs at running speed. What became immediately evident was that gravBoards weren't meant for stair travel. Every third one the board lost power and thumped hard to the ground. Plus the incline worked against them so that by the time they were between the second and third floors, the gravBoard was slower than walking speed. Finally Rebecca hopped off and ran up the stairs ahead of him. Pony popped up his gravBoard and followed, quickly catching up with her as they pounded toward the roof. The service door at the top of the stairs opened onto a flat roof without any raised lip or pipes protruding. After one look, Pony hovered the gravBoard and grinned. That was all Rebecca needed. If he thought they could make it, then they could.

  Andy and his driver burst through the door seconds later out of breath and heaving. "Are you crazy?"

  "We're going to jump it," she said happily.

  "You are crazy!"

  "Didn't you ever want to be like Evil Knievel?"

  "No!"

  "So sad then." She hopped aboard Pony's gravBoard, turned to blow Andy a kiss, then shot across the surface and into the air. She didn't mean to scream. It came naturally. Instead of fear, though, it was the yee-haa of a Wild West cowgirl. They hit the walkway hard, wrenching it partially free from the billboard. Pony managed to slow them down enough to gather his balance, then he gave the gravBoard one more burst of speed as they shot into the air again.

  "Hold on!" He flexed his knees and lowered himself.

  Rebecca followed suit, gnashing her teeth together in anticipation of the impact. This time she didn't scream.

  The gravBoard erupted like a sparkler. Her knees came up to her chin. Blood snapped from her lips. She let go of Pony and hit the ground so hard the air left her body. She felt her arms and legs pummeling the earth but she had no control over them. She tumbled into the side of a police cruiser, denting the polymer construction. Agony flashed through her as the road shredded her skin in a dozen places. She glanced back, dazed from the pain, and saw Pony explode atop his gravBoard, the wave of energy slamming into her and knocking her out.

  Chapter 23

  Rebecca awoke to a numb sensation, like that of a muscle that had fallen asleep, except her whole body felt that way. She glimpsed the raw, red wounds on her arm beneath a coating of gel and was thankful that the pain had been taken from her. The skin of both forearms had been ground away to muscle. Her palms were intact only because she'd had her hands closed. But her knuckles had absorbed murderous punishment, bones showing in places.

  She tried to sit up, but wasn't able. Her body felt as though it weighed a thousand pounds. Through the blurred prism of her vision a face floated into view.

  "Kumi?" Rebecca barely recognized her own rough voice.

  Looking as fresh and lovely as she had those first hours of Rebecca's freedom, the tiny Asian woman nodded her head as she smiled. "Thank God you're alive. I was so worried for you."

  "Where am I?"

  "Hollywood Police Headquarters. You're safe now. Don't worry."

  "Don't worry?"

  "We captured your brother's killer. You are a very lucky girl, you know."

  "What is this on me?"

  "Surgical gel."

  "It's sticky. I can't feel—" A surge of panic flew through her system. Had they taken her organs while she slept? Oh my God! She wanted to touch her body but her hands and arms wouldn't cooperate.

  "Relax, Rebecca. Everything's okay."

  "But you took them!" she cried. "You took my organs!"

  "I did no such thing. Who have you been talking to who tells you such evil things?"

  "Where were you, Kumi?" A lump of anguish forced its way free from her paralyzed chest. "Where were you when I was hiding?"

  "I was looking for you all the time."

  "Why'd you leave me?"

  "I didn't. You left me."

  Darkness and pain.

  Rebecca tried to open her eyes but an ocean raged in her mind. The swells rocked her thoughts. She couldn't piece words together. She could only breathe as the light deserted her and left her to the pain of the ocean bottom.

  "Rebecca, wake up. The doctor wants to see you."

  She cracked open her eyelids. Pain torched her eyes. A man with a light came into view. Kumi stood beside him. He held something long and shiny.

  "This won't hurt a bit," he said.

  Rebecca tried to scream but nothing came out, not even a breath.

  Was she dead?

  The sun warmed her as she lay on the floor by the back door. The screen door was open and she could see her grandmother hanging clothes on the line in the yard. She'd been stung by a bee on her cheek yesterday and didn't feel like going out. But that was okay, because today was one of those days where she felt like coloring.

  Several coloring books lay open and broken-backed in front of her. A good third of her Crayola 64 set had been mined for tints and hues until she'd found the perfect ones. Here was a tulip. There was a unicorn. A purple and yellow house stood shadowed by dark green trees on the edge
of a mythical forest.

  "You can't do that." David had managed to sneak up behind her and had watched as she selected burnt umber and began coloring.

  "Can too." She hated it when people watched her color. She brought her forearm over part of the picture as she continued to shade in the broad muscled chest.

  "No you can't. He's green. Everyone knows that the Hulk is green."

  "I didn't know that."

  "That's because you're a girl. You shouldn't even be coloring the Hulk, anyway. He's a boy."

  "Boys need coloring too."

  That silenced David for awhile. A minute later, he turned and left. By the time he returned, she was finishing the picture. Her burnt umber hulk was hurling a blue and red car at a burning building, the flames orange, yellow, brick red, lemon yellow, violet red and magenta.

  A comic book showing a green Hulk ripping a tree from the ground was shoved in her face. She pushed it away with her free hand and resumed coloring. "That doesn't mean anything."

  "Of course it means something." Exasperated, David pointed to the Hulk in his comic until he crinkled the book. "Hulk is green. Everyone knows that Hulk is green. You've made him orange, almost brown."

  "It's burnt umber." She didn't much like the color, but she loved the name. Burnt umber. The color sounded like a foreign word, like when someone walked up and asked for something, you'd reply to them burnt umber.

  "It's wrong, is what it is. You've made the Hulk into the Thing. You can't just do that. It's like painting the sky green and the ground blue."

  "Why can't I? It's my coloring book. It's my universe. I can do what I want to, can't I?"

  "You can't just go around breaking the rules. Whole societies will fall apart. The world might come to an end."

  "That's a little melodramatic I think," said grandma as she came into the kitchen, carefully stepping over the minefield of crayons.

  "More than a little melodramatic," Rebecca added.