by M. R. Forbes
Sarah was standing at the corner of the strand when he arrived. She was chatting quietly with a short, blonde haired young woman. He couldn’t hear their conversation, but they broke it off within a couple of minutes, and she secreted back into the strand to search for him.
She gave a curt wave when she saw him. “What the hell is going on, Sheriff?” she asked. “I leave you alone for five minutes, and when I come back there’s a Deputy leading another out of the strands covered in blood, and you’re nowhere to be seen.”
“It wasn’t me,” Hayden said. “It was the thing that’s been attacking the residents.”
“What do you mean, thing?” Sarah said. “A really ugly guy?”
Hayden wasn’t sure if he should tell her what he had seen. The Governor wouldn’t want him to. Malcolm was trying to keep it secret, and for good reason. If the people realized there was a demon hunting them, there was no telling what kind of chaos it might cause. Then again, the people had a right to know they were being hunted. They had a right to protect themselves.
As if they could.
“Something like that,” Hayden said. “Do you have the clothes?”
She was holding a bag in her hand. She thrust it out to him. “You need it. You’re soaked, and you smell.”
They backed further into the strand, moving behind the block, near where Shanks had been attacked.
“What does he look like?” Sarah asked as Hayden began unbuttoning his shirt.
“Who?”
“The killer.”
“I thought you saw him from your bedroom window?”
Hayden unhooked his belt and lowered it to the ground. Then he pulled off his shirt, followed by his undershirt. He didn’t want to get the new clothes wet, so he stripped himself naked before opening the bag, hoping that no one was looking down from their windows.
“Your wife must be happy,” Sarah said, looking at him.
He knew she was staring. He didn’t have the energy to care, and besides, he didn’t understand what she meant. He pulled a new pair of underwear out of the bag.
“If you have time, I can give you a little bonus,” she said. “No extra charge.”
He slid the underwear on, grateful to be dry again. “Sarah, you’re better than that.”
“My Mom says women in our position have to get by any way we can. It’s not a question of better or worse. It’s a question of using our assets to the fullest. But I like you, Sheriff. You’ve always treated me with kindness. Not all of my customers have. I don’t mind doing you a favor.”
“I do,” Hayden said. “You use your assets for her gain. You cheapen yourself and diminish your self-worth to take care of a woman who only cares about herself.”
“She’s my Mom. What else am I supposed to do?”
“She’s a blood-sucking leech,” Hayden said, pulling on a fresh pair of pants. They were tighter than he would have liked, the cut more in line with current style and less considerate of his functional needs. “Do you think any of the men in Metro are going to marry you, knowing what you’ve done with your life?”
“Mom says she found a husband. She used her body to get what she wanted, too. Did you know that, Sheriff?”
“I suspected, but I’m not surprised. Your father was a Cleaner, Sarah. An ex-con. She married one of her customers because she won the lottery and wanted someone to take care of her when she passed age.”
He pulled the shirt on. It was faded blue, the threads barely holding together. Everything had been exchanged and re-woven so often it was all starting to fall apart.
“That’s not a nice thing to say, Sheriff,” Sarah said. She looked hurt.
“I’m sorry, Sarah,” Hayden replied. “My point is, you don’t have to be what your mother tells you to be. You don’t have to be her servant.”
“Whose servant am I, then?”
“Nobody’s. You can be your own person.”
She laughed. “You know what a line of bullshit that is, don’t you Sheriff?”
“What do you mean?”
“There aren’t many choices on the Pilgrim. The city has needs, and everything is organized and prescribed to fill them. You said before I could get pregnant without a ticket, and maybe I could, but what I do is one of the city’s needs, whether you like it or not. So are the dark markets, so are the illegal trades.”
“Did your mother tell you that?”
She shrugged. “Most of it. But I believe it. That there aren’t many real choices. Your father was Sheriff, wasn’t he?”
“Yes. And his father. The Dukes have been in Law for as far back as the PASS has records.”
“My point, exactly.”
“I chose to become a Law Officer. I had to take the aptitude tests. I had to pass training.”
“But you were predisposed to it. You had a way in through your family.”
“And now I’m wanted for killing my wife,” Hayden said. “There’s no such thing as fate, Sarah. You can be whatever you want to be.”
“What if I want to be a prostitute? What if I like it?”
“Do you?”
She was silent for a few seconds, and then she shook her head. “Not really, but my Mom.” Her voice trailed off.
“What were you talking to that other girl about?” Hayden asked, changing the subject. He had tried, but the damage was done.
“I was asking her about Skillet,” she said. “If she’s seen him around.”
“And?”
She smiled. “She thinks she saw him heading into the Dox. It could be the wrong guy, the skillet’s pretty popular right now, but it’s better than nothing, isn’t it Sheriff?”
Hayden bent down to pull on the boots she had picked for him. “It is. How did you know my size?”
She shrugged. “You’re about the same height as my Dad was.”
They were a good fit. He reached for his belt. It didn't make sense to ditch the uniform only to keep the utilities. He took the stunner from it and left everything else. He looked at his wrist. He still needed to get the cuff off it.
He shoved the stunner into his pants. “I guess we're going into the Dox.”
“You're kind of old for it.”
“Do you think I'll be recognized?”
“Nope. You look good in cazzie, Sheriff.”
“Thanks, I think.”
Sarah smiled. “You're welcome.” She paused. “So, the killer. Did you get him?”
“I tried. He got away.”
“From you? He must have been fast.”
Hayden could still see the creature scaling the block in his mind. “He was more than fast.”
19
Sarah had called the Dox a club, but it wasn't really. The gathering place was unsanctioned, meaning it had been created illegally by the residents and was operating out of one of the blocks. Twenty-two in this case. Only two strands away from Francis’ cube.
During the day, it didn't exist at all. The three floors of cubes were their typical homesteads for a number of residents, nearly all of them single and between eighteen and twenty-five years old. They were the future of Metro, the next generation in a long line of pilgrims.
Hayden didn't see much hope for the future in them. Not if the Dox was any indication of their ability to maintain Metro. Then again, there might not be anything to maintain if Law couldn't get the creature under control. Their weapons were ineffective against it, leaving him unconvinced that they could.
Hayden got more than his share of looks as he entered Block Twenty-two with Sarah. Not only because of his age but also who he was with. It seemed her reputation had already been made downtown, and not in a good way. They stared at her, pointing as she passed by, pointing at him as well. They didn't recognize him as Sheriff Duke. They didn't know him at all. He was thankful for that.
The narrow hallways between cubes were crowded with people, talking and laughing, many of them with cups in their hands, filled with a liquid he could smell was some kind of alcohol. There was music
coming from one of the rooms; a passed down relic of technology blasting out ancient tunes that echoed in the hall. Other cubes had been set up for trade, small merchant stations bartering chits from one resident to another and taking a small cut of the deal. There were items for sale, too. Clothing, mainly, cheated from the Exchange and collected into scraps that could be traded for other clothing, keepsakes, chits, or services.
They stopped by each of the open cubes, making their way past the other citizens in search of Skillet. They came across a couple of kids with the same haircut, but not the one they were looking for.
“He might be upstairs,” Sarah said. “The really illegal stuff is on the third floor, so they have longer to stash it if the Law shows up.”
Hayden raised an eyebrow.
“The other Law,” she said.
“What kind of really illegal stuff are we talking about?” he asked.
“I probably shouldn't tell you.”
“What am I going to do? I have more important things to worry about.”
“You're going to see it anyway.” She hesitated before speaking. “I know a girl with a cube on the third floor. We've worked together a couple of times.”
“What do you mean?”
“We did this routine together. Nothing too over the top. Got a handful of nits to split.”
Hayden was surprised her face started turning red. Maybe their conversation hadn't been as useless as he thought.
“Nits?”
She pointed to a small beaded bracelet on one of the girls’ wrists. “You should have come down here more if you wanted to stay on top of things.”
“I was trusting my deputies to report this stuff.”
“You told me that. I think you trusted them a little too much.”
He was starting to think he had trusted almost everyone a little too much. Everyone except Natalia.
“I hope I can trust you.”
“Keep your promise to my Mom, and you have no problems with me, Sheriff.”
A few of the residents glanced over when she said it.
“Shh,” Hayden said.
Sarah smiled. “Sorry. I'll call you Dezz instead.”
“Dezz?”
She laughed, leading him to the stairwell. It was more crowded than the hallways.
“At least they're in here and not the strands,” Hayden said.
“Especially now,” Sarah agreed.
They bypassed the second floor, heading to the third. They moved out onto a much quieter landing. A man was waiting there, easily two heads taller than him and in much better physical shape. He had a large homemade knife tucked into his belt.
“Two nits to get in,” he said.
“Dezz,” Sarah said, looking at Hayden. “Can you take care of this?”
Was she kidding?
“You didn’t bring any nits?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I didn’t think I would need them.”
“You have the nits or not?” the man asked. “If not, fezz off.”
Hayden was starting to see a pattern with the way the newest generation was making up or changing words.
“I need to get in there,” Hayden said.
“And I need a nice screw. Too bad.”
“I can help you with that,” Sarah said. “If you let us in.”
“Sarah,” Hayden said. He wasn’t about to let her sell herself for access.
“Oh yeah?” the big man asked. “Full deal for two nits?”
“One time offer,” she replied. “It’s no big thing, Dezz. I do it all the time. You know that.”
Hayden glanced back at her. It was a big deal to him. He was angry at himself for being so blind to everything that was going on downtown. The Dox shouldn’t even exist. His father had always told him that Law didn’t have the resources to cover everything that could happen in a city the size of Metro, and he would have to pick his battles. It had only been getting worse over the years as deputies retired out and nobody replaced them. Still, he felt responsible.
He also felt powerless to stop it. Maybe if he could get Natalia back. Maybe if he could smooth things over with Malcolm, they could make some positive changes. For now? It didn’t matter.
For now, he wasn’t even the Sheriff.
He was a fugitive, and normal rules didn’t apply. The sooner he accepted that the better off he would be.
“You have a deal,” the big man said. He thrust a big finger at Hayden. “You go in.” He reached out to take Sarah’s arm. “You and me have a date.”
Hayden made his decision, reaching out and grabbing the big man’s meaty arm, using what he had learned in training to pull the man off-balance, throwing a well-placed elbow into his gut and knocking the wind out of him.
The man doubled over, while Hayden grabbed the knife from his belt. It was better quality than the one Francis carried, with a leather grip and a twenty-centimeter blade. He didn’t know if the thing he had seen had a tough hide or not, but if he encountered it again, it would be a good tool to find out.
The big man straightened, prepared to lunge.
“Don’t,” Hayden said, leveling the knife at him.
“What the fezz is this?”
“I need access, and I’m not giving you the girl to get it,” Hayden said. “You can drop the issue and stand there like a good boy, or I can stick you with this.”
The man stared at him. He was angry, but he also knew he was defeated.
“Whatever, sprocket. Can I have the blade back when you leave?”
“No,” Hayden said. He could guess what sprocket was slang for. “I’m keeping it. These things are illegal you know?”
The man laughed. “Yeah. How else are we supposed to keep order down here? Four Law Officers for ten blocks? It’s a joke. I paid twenty nits for that. You can’t just take it from me.”
“I already did. I’ll tell you what, you give me the name and location of the guy you bought it from, and I’ll give it back to you when I leave, pozz?”
“Easy deal. Hector is in 315, right down the hall.”
Hayden nodded. He was hoping the dealer was here.
“Thank you.”
“Rezz out, behemoth,” Sarah said.
The big man smiled, his posture relaxing. “Who the fezz are you, anyway? You’re a little old to be single.”
“None of your business,” Hayden said.
“Fair deal.”
They started down the hallway. Hayden heard the man behind them announcing the toll to two more newcomers. They passed a few of the cubes, stopping at the open doors and looking in. The first was selling the alcohol he had seen the kids drinking below, in big makeshift containers to be redistributed lower down. The next was offering something they called ‘fairy dust,’ a powder he assumed was a narcotic of some kind.
“How do they know how to make this stuff?” Hayden asked. He had been a kid once, too, but he had never been exposed to any of this. As a Sheriff’s son, why would he be?
“They don’t directly,” Sarah said. “They get it from someone else.”
“Who?”
“He calls himself the Source. Nobody knows who he is or where he gets the stuff. Most people don’t care. They’re too busy enjoying it.”
Could the drugs and alcohol be made and sustained with what they had in Metro? Or was this so-called Source getting it from somewhere else?
Like beyond the secured hatches.
The passed by Leyla’s cube. Her door was open, and she had a decent crowd inside her place. She had some scratchy, flat music player blaring some kind of upbeat instrumental, and by the time they crossed over she was nearly finished with her show, all of her clothing distributed into the group. Hayden only got a glimpse of her through the gathering, a small, slender girl who should have been doing anything else with her time. He felt another pang of guilt at the situation, and he forced it aside. Guilt wouldn’t help him now.
They reached Cube 315. It was a dim room guarded on the inside by a pair of k
ids almost as big as the guy at the stairwell. They were both carrying knives of their own, and their attention fell immediately to the blade in Hayden’s hand.
“Where’d you get the poker?” one of them said.
“That looks like Gary’s,” the other said.
“I traded him for it,” Hayden said.
“Oh?”
“I need to speak to Hector.”
“You looking to deal?”
“Pozz that.”
“You got nits?”
Hayden nodded, hoping they wouldn’t ask for evidence. They didn’t. They moved aside, letting him in.
The main living area was clean, still arranged for daily use. Hayden glanced over at the bedroom. He could see it had been transformed, the walls occupied by sharp utensils of various shapes and sizes. A table had been set up in the doorway, and a heavyset man was positioned behind it.
This had to be Hector.
“Come in, my friend. Come in,” he said, getting to his feet and smiling. “Sarah, you brought me a guest?”
“Hey, Hector,” Sarah said.
“You know him?” Hayden whispered.
“We’ve done a few deals. He’s got a lot of nits.” Her face reddened slightly. “Hector, this is Dezz.”
“A pleasure, my friend,” Hector said. “A true pleasure. You’ve got nits, I’ve got protection.”
Hayden walked over to the table, still eyeing the product on the walls. Gary’s poker was high-end compared to most of it, but his attention settled on a blade in the back, hanging over the dealer’s head. It wasn’t homemade, that much was obvious. At least forty-five centimeters long, curved on one side with a jagged point near the center of the other, with a metal guard and a leather-wrapped handle. He had never seen anything so violently beautiful before.
“You like her, I can tell,” Hector said. “That one’s my treasure. I put her up just for display, to show her off.”
“Where’d you get it?” Hayden asked.
“She’s been in my family since they boarded the Pilgrim,” Hector said. “They used to keep her in a box so Law wouldn’t take her, but we aren’t afraid of Law around here. She’s got a sheath, too.” He leaned over to pick it up. It was a hard material with an artistically etched design. “She’s priceless. It’s about respect, you know?”