by Chris Hechtl
But they found that the area was swarming with mobsters in every direction when they checked through the telescope from the building rooftop. The cops who were supposed to patrol the area were nowhere in sight.
“Great. Now I'm not sure who to trust.”
---*---
They returned to the flat carefully, making sure no one saw them return. “It's only a matter of time before they go door-to-door, Eric,” Connie said dispiritedly. “We're so screwed.”
“I know.” He scowled. He wished he'd had set up cameras, but he'd given up on the idea when he realized they'd just be stolen by the other kids in the area. “We can't hide forever either. We need to eat and shit,” he said.
“Well, the good news is, I'm used to the smell,” Connie said with a half laugh.
“Gee, thanks,” Eric said. His lips quivered with a not-quite smile at the levity.
“I'll go clean or something,” Connie muttered.
“Save your energy,” Eric urged. She gave him a one-fingered salute. “Well, we could do that instead,” he said hopefully, but she made a rotating motion with the finger. “Or not, I guess,” he said, heaving a sigh. “Can't blame a guy for trying,” he said.
“I can blame you for getting us into this mess,” she said, scrubbing at his counter as if it was possessed or she was.
“Is that really white?” he asked, staring in disbelief.
“Shocking what is under all the grime. I'm surprised you have lived this long without getting sick,” she growled.
Eric picked up a screwdriver and scrubbed at his itchy scalp. She was running through a lot of his water allotment for the month, but he was learning not to complain. At the rate they were going, he wasn't sure he'd live long enough to pay the bill.
Besides, he could always rig the meter again if he wanted to do so. He'd done it before and for clients many times.
Connie looked out his small filthy window to the streets below from time to time. When it started to get dark, she stopped cleaning and sat down on the stool with a sigh.
“Anything?” He shook his head. “I thought as much. Me neither,” she said. “And I realized why you haven't used your kitchen. You microwave a lot or eat out,” she said.
“Right,” Eric said.
“I think we need to ration what we've got. I'll split a package of Ramen with you,” she said. He nodded. When he didn't say anything more, just stared at the device she sighed. “Sure, Connie, I'll do it for you since you've been busy all day,” she said sarcastically. She went over to the kitchen and started to slam doors until she found what she wanted. She put a bit of water in each bowl, then nuked them.
“You don't have any alcohol,” she said. He shook his head silently no. “Damn,” she muttered, passing him his bowl and fork. “This is a damn good time to get drunk,” she muttered, picking at the soup bowl.
He noted that she'd passed him the black one with the chip and crack in it. That was fine, it was all good. He'd gotten both out of a dumpster anyway—not that he was willing to tell her that. She probably had a lot of curbside furniture finds and dumpster crap. He'd sold the rest of the bowls to a lady down the hall when he'd found the set.
It was all good he thought picking at the hot noodles then blowing on them to cool them off a bit.
They ate mechanically, listening to people talking outside. Everyone knew something was up, but they didn't know what or why.
Connie did her business in the bathroom then came out wearing one of his better long sleeve shirts and nothing under it. She draped her clothes over the back of his office chair, then stretched. “Time for bed,” she said simply. “Tomorrow is a new day. It'd better be a good one since I'm out a job and home,” she grumbled.
He had to admire her resolve. From the sound of it, she was past tears. They'd lived on the streets long enough to know that tears and prayers were useless. They were tools to use against the gullible, but self-pity only got you to do stupid things like get drunk or stoned.
“You get the couch or pile of clothes,” Connie said, going over to his bed. He didn't have a separate bedroom so she just flopped down onto the bed. He winced and then did his best to make himself comfortable facing the door on the floor with his back to a pile of laundry. Before he called it a night, he used his stool to prop the door shut then stuck a pipe in the window casement to keep it from being jimmied open. It meant they no longer had an avenue of escape but they both knew that already.
It was a measure of how tired she was or stressed he thought, that she didn't protest or comment. He settled down again, using an old blanket to cover himself. Just as he started to drift off he heard her start to snore softly.
He couldn't help but snort at the oddly comforting sound before he too joined her in Morpheus's embrace.
---*---
The following morning Connie smelled something and looked up from her unfamiliar surroundings. She found the source of the sounds, Eric stumbling around near what had to be a coffee contraption in the kitchenette. She grimaced as she tried to push herself up. Her arms felt like lead, she'd done too much fear-induced scrubbing.
He finished the cup and then came over and prodded her. She grumbled sleepily, then took the cup. She sipped at it, watching him stumble into the bathroom, then over to pour himself another cup.
Once he had the cup in hand, she watched as he went over to the window. He tried to get the window open until he realized he'd propped it shut the night before. He took the pipe down, then heaved the sash open. He used the pipe to prop it open and then sat on the windowsill and sipped his coffee, one leg dangling inside, the other out.
The wind helped as much as the caffeine to wake Connie up. Well, that and the sudden burst of fear at his exposure was bringing them. “Should you be doing that?” she asked.
“I screwed up. We should have moved in the night,” Eric muttered.
“What was that?” she demanded.
“I said I screwed up. I forgot about the Bat. The thugs are scared pissless of the thing that goes bump in the night. That was our window, and I squandered it,” he said in self-disgust. He fought the urge to throw the coffee cup.
“We'll think of something else,” she muttered, padding with bare feet over to the bathroom. She kicked his improvised bedding back into a pile with one foot then kept going.
He snorted at her antics. “Sure we are,” he muttered, taking another sip of coffee.
He looked out again, aware he was exposing himself. He happened to look down to see a stiff-necked marine march to the recruiting office across the street. He snorted at the guy's antics. He was a chimera; he knew that much. He was also armed, which he'd heard wasn't normal for a recruiter. But then again, the guy was in Gotham.
He'd also heard that the local thugs had tried to shake the marine recruiters down but had hastily backed off when Planetary Security had gotten involved. Then, as he took another ship of coffee, he remembered the newly resurrected marines and navy had a reputation of military of honor.
“Any thoughts? Connie asked, coming out of his bathroom. He turned to see her stretch again then run a hand through her hair. “I'm itchy. I think you've got parasites or dandruff or something. Is it too much to ask for you to have a clean shower? I mean it's … What?” she demanded.
He looked down to the street as the recruiting sign lit up. It was a long shot but the only one he saw. He felt and heard Connie pad over to him. “What?” she asked, mouth near his ear.
“I think I'm looking at the answer to our prayers,” he murmured, pointing his mug to the recruiting office.
“You aren't serious … you are,” she said.
“Do you have a better idea? The only people honest enough to give us a fair shake is right there under our nose,” he said.
She muttered something pungent as she stood straight. He turned to her, looking down to fight from meeting her eyes. That was a mistake. She may not have shaved her legs in a while but the early morning surge and her bare legs had a rather
intoxicating thing to his blood. It woke him up a bit more. So did her pouty lips as his eyes went up to hers.
“We've got nothing left to lose. Wish I never bought the damn thing. At this point, I'd like to live,” Connie muttered. “But if I'm going to die, I'm going to get a decent shower in first,” she growled, taking herself off with a huff.
“Right,” he drawled, watching her fine backside pad over to her clothes, snatch them up, then over to the bathroom. She closed the door with a backwards glance then he heard the shower come on.
“And quit looking at me like that!” she said over the sound of the warming water. “You're freaking me out!”
“Sorry,” he muttered, turning back to the view.
---*---
They cautiously crossed the street, trying to blend into the kids headed off the school, people off to their menial jobs, or who knows what. The buzz-cut marine in his Khaki uniform saw them coming through the big window and rose from his desk. Eric acted as a gentleman to hold the door open for her. “Hi, um …”
“Interested in a fresh start?” the marine asked, eying them. They weren't his usual type he noted.
“Something like that. Look, I know it's early and you're not open …”
“We open at all hours,” the marine said, indicating the seats on the other side of his desk. “Marines learn how to deal with things like that.”
“Okay, um …”
The staff sergeant sized them up. He'd been sizing them up the moment he realized they were intent on walking in his door, but the longer they were with him the more he got a feel for them. From the look of them, they'd been on their own and faced deprivation before. From the look of their clothes, the situation was still ongoing.
Well, if they were in for a free lunch, they were going to be sadly mistaken. Sure they'd get fed now, he could do that just for the publicity. But he'd make it known he wasn't an easy mark. They'd have to listen to his rehearsed pitch.
They smelled better than most he noted. The clothes stank, but the kids themselves had taken a recent shower. The boy's hair was still a little damp he noted. He also noted the cat eyes. So the boy was a chimera like himself. Good to know, he could use that, he thought, sticking the thought in a handy file for later.
He had a long camel-like face, big ears, and a mowhawk thanks to some idiot ancestor centuries ago. He'd been tested. He wasn't any of the Neobreeds, so he and his family were a one-off, a chimera group created with dominant genes that just wouldn't go away. Lucky them.
It made the dating situation rather tricky.
“You two are streetwise, so you'd do better on my side then Sylvia's,” the marine said, indicating the desk across from him with all the navy love plastered around it. He held out a hand to Eric. “Staff Sergeant Phil Haigh, United Federation Marine Corps,” he said as way of introduction. “I don't remember seeing you at the schools or in the arcade,” he said. “Sorry if I missed you,” he offered.
“Yeah, that's right, you like to do the shooters at the arcades to impress the kids,” Eric said, shaking the man's hand.
The sergeant's eyes narrowed slightly as the handshake disengaged. “And you are …?” he asked, extending his hand to the young woman clutching her arms to her side. He could tell she was upset and unsure and also scared, since she kept looking outside. “You're in trouble,” he said, voice cooling slightly.
“Yeah. Look, can we go somewhere more private? Somewhere they can't see us from the street?” Eric said, fighting to keep his voice down and not so sound urgent. He fought the urge to nervously look over his shoulder.
“What's this about?” the marine asked warily. “If you're in trouble with the law or looking to rob me …”
“No, nothing like that. It's well, this guy I know, a blue Neocat, he's been on to me about you guys. We um, bought something at the auction the other day, and it's apparently a wanted item by the wrong crowd if you catch my drift,” Eric explained hastily.
“Um …”
“Antimatter,” Eric stage whispered.
The sergeant blinked then nodded slowly in understanding. “Ah, so you are that kid. We've been told about you.” That bit of news surprised Eric. Connie bit her lip. “Okay, why don't we go get some coffee and talk in the back,” he murmured, indicating they should proceed him with a sweep of his hand. He'd already scanned them for weapons when they had walked in. The boy had a knife, the girl too, but no firearms.
“Thanks,” Connie said, sounding almost in tears as they walked past the holograms of marines in uniform and posters on the wall to a narrow corridor past doors to the kitchenette. The sergeant used his implants to trigger the door locks as they walked down the corridor, then put in a call.
---*---
“I've got a live one here, sir,” Sergeant Haigh stated, texting Lieutenant Thornson through his implants as he sent out a second text for backup. If his timing was right, the lieutenant was out for his morning jog, most likely on the return leg.
“Oh?”
“Remember that package PSC is all hot and bothered about? Well, it just walked in my front door. And if I'm reading the delivery kids right, it's got other buyers waiting in the wings. Armed buyers who are willing to pay cut rates if you catch my drift.”
“Gotcha.”
“Boss, we need a hot pick up. This may go south. I think a little shock and awe right from the get-go might throw some ice water on those who are hot and bothered about it. Keep the local hoods from getting a little too trigger happy.”
“And keep them in line later. Gotcha. I'll set it up, and I'll call your relief in.”
“Already done, sir. But … hurry,” the sergeant replied. “I'm feeling buck-ass naked and swinging here,” he said.
“Well, can't have that,” Thornson replied as he cut the channel.
---*---
“I'm telling you, I saw the girl and another kid go into the recruiter's office. They were acting all nervous so that tells me something’s up with ‘em,” Ed said as the boss looked at him from the back of the black car. He had his window down and wasn't too happy about the exposure. The two thugs weren't either.
“But they ain't there now?” the boss asked carefully.
“No. And they ain't come out either, boss,” Ackerman said.
“Shit. Okay, round up the troops. Did you see where they came from?” Boss Maroney demanded.
“No,” Ed grimaced as he admitted the error. “I only saw them when they crossed the street.”
“Shit. But they crossed the street. Tell Mick to start on that side. Ed, you better be right about this,” he swore, eying the thug. “This better not be for nothing,” he growled.
“He ain't wrong, boss. But …”
“You both better be right,” Maroney growled, triggering the window's motor to raise it. “Or there will be hell to pay,” he said as a last parting shot as the vehicle pulled out.
Ed frowned, looking back to the recruiting station in time to see a Neodog in fatigues walk up and then walk inside.
One marine they might be able to handle. But this guy was armed. That upped the odds a bit and he hated that. But life was about risk.
The kids obviously hadn't had the goods so they needed to trail them from a distance to see where they go, then snatch it from there.
“Tell Mitch to cover the other side of the street,” he said, slapping his partner on the chest with the back of his hand to get his attention. “We're going to take the high road.”
“Why?”
“Cause we get a view,” Ed said, not bothering to point up. “We'll call it in as we see it, then follow. If they don't see us, we're golden, and we can narrow down what building they go to,” he explained as if to a child.
“Ah, good call,” Ackerman replied with a nod.
---*---
Once they were in the kitchenette, Connie did her best to relax a little as they made small talk. When the coffee pot beeped, she jumped though.
“Sorry, showing off again,” Serg
eant Haigh said. “Implants, gotta love ‘em,” he said.
“Yeah, that's right you've got implants,” Eric said thoughtfully.
“Yup. So, be advised, the powers that be are listening to this conversation. You better be on the level,” the sergeant warned as he handed out the coffee cups. He pulled out a couple stools and had them sit. “So? Start from the top. How'd you get the device? When did this start again?” he asked as he opened a file to record and relay the conversation to other marines and officers in the area.
Hesitantly, Eric took a sip of coffee and then explained the situation from their perspective. “You know some of it from Hank I'm guessing.”
“Hank's a good guy. He was worried about you and about the package falling into the wrong hands. It could … well, do a lot of damage to tell you the truth,” the marine said. “Or so I'm told.” he sounded as if he wasn't sure if he believed it or not.
“I called a guy I know. He said we could get 15 to 30K easy. He was supposed to set up a clean meet with some buyers yesterday but instead he screwed us. It was a trap. I was almost stupid enough to walk into it. Almost.”
“How'd you know?” the marine asked conversationally as he poured himself another cup. He offered it to the kids, but Connie put her hand over her cup and shook her head. Eric also shook his head.
“I scoped the situation. I wanted to see if it was a trap,” Eric admitted. “I didn't want to walk in fat, dumb, and happy, you know?” he said defensively.
“Smart, very smart. So, you reconned the situation and saw …”
“A sniper and then a bunch of thugs. Two of the mooks I recognized. They chased us into that alley I mentioned.”
“Ah,” the sergeant replied, nodding thoughtfully. Street smart indeed he thought. They had been wise to lay low.
“I heard this stuff is valuable. I … we want a reward or compensation. Otherwise, we're both screwed. We'll be out on the street or worse,” Eric said. The sergeant grimaced. “We need help, but if it comes to it, we'll just dump it in the river or open the damn thing,” Eric swore.