“Scar does,” Torg said.
Betty’s eye swung at Torg and held the look. “I’m pretty sure that was a deliberate choice,” she said dryly. Her eye swung back to Johnny. “Even before he got here, Albert had the ability to heal a scar like that. Hole, most Threes could do it. It wasn’t caused by a virus, it was caused by an Anti. Clean cut. But Albert didn’t heal it.” Her stripe tilted again. “Albert wears his wounds because he wants people to think he’s wounded.”
“What a jackhole,” Bian muttered.
“Hey,” Johnny snapped, suddenly out of patience. Every time anything remotely got settled, something else went wrong, someone else disappeared or died. It was enough. “How about you ease off a little, all right?” Beside him, Torg’s eyes widened in surprise. “Does that sound familiar, Bian? ’Cause I’m pretty sure that’s what you begged me to do just a few days ago. Yet ever since we dropped here, you’ve treated Albert like tread-grease. You’re probably the reason he took off.”
Silence, as Bian stared at Johnny, her eyes flinching and glassy with tears.
“Maybe you should ease off a little,” Shabaz said quietly. As Johnny’s eye swung, she added, “Some of us aren’t adjusting to this place as well as others.”
Johnny stared at her. “Shabaz, none of us are adjusting to this place.”
The grey skid held his gaze. “At least you’re not baggage.”
“Shabaz . . .”
She cut him off. “Don’t make the same speech twice.” Then her stripes tilted and she hefted the rifle in her hands. “Anyway, at least now we’re armed.” She hesitated, then added, “I appreciate what you were about to say. Just . . . cut her a little slack. We should all cut each other some slack.”
“Well, twist my gears,” Torg drawled. “Johnny defends Albert and Shabaz becomes the voice of reason.” He glanced at Betty. “Two miracles in twenty seconds.”
“Good,” Betty said. “Let’s go make another. Shabaz, you’re right. We’re all under enough stress without us taking it out on each other. And as for Albert, he’s responsible for his own decisions.” She sighed. “He can live with them.”
“Wait,” Torres protested. “We’re going to go find him, right? We can’t just leave him in here. What . . . what if it does that reset thing before he leaves?”
“Torres,” Betty said gently, “he left for a reason. When he wants to find us, I’m sure he will.”
“You’re sure?”
“I hope so.”
As they retraced their path through the jungle, Betty explained how each weapon worked. The sun disappeared behind the treetops, casting the thick green into shadow. They reached their starting point, but Albert didn’t reappear.
“Should we wait?” Bian said hesitantly, glancing at Johnny.
Betty grimaced. “We can’t. We have no idea how long the Skidsphere holds out. Every second counts.”
“Then maybe we shouldn’t have come here,” Shabaz said. “This was all just to help a couple of us defend ourselves. I’m not more important than the Skidsphere.”
Johnny was amazed. With every second the grey Six seemed to get deeper and deeper.
Apparently, Betty agreed. She smiled with unfeigned warmth. “That is a very noble sentiment, Shabaz.” Her stripe tilted. “Anyway, we came here. What’s done is done. But no . . . we can’t wait for Albert.”
“Oh,” Bian said softly. “Okay.” Her eyes swung and then froze in place. “Wait, where’s Torres?”
Even as he scanned the jungle, Johnny realized he wasn’t surprised. At least this made sense. “She must have gone to find Albert. Hard to blame her, she’s been under his wing since they got here. Don’t worry about it, Bian. This isn’t on you.” He looked at Betty. “That’s two. You really want to leave them in here?”
Suddenly, Betty looked all fifty-five of her years. “We’re out of time,” she said softly.
And the fact you said we needed Albert? But he didn’t say the thought out loud. Betty knew her plans better than he did. If Albert was that essential . . . “All right,” he said. “Then we go. Can Albert find us once we leave? Could he follow us through the Thread?”
“I think so,” Betty said. She didn’t look anywhere close to certain. Behind her, a golden door opened in the jungle. “I guess we’ll find out.” Without looking back, she rolled through.
She led them down now familiar tunnels, black-lined with gold, then through a series of doors like those they’d taken when they’d fled the lost node.
Johnny rolled behind everyone else, a black mood seeping through his skin. It didn’t fail to dawn on him that he was in Albert’s usual place, the back of the pack. He wasn’t sure if that was ironic, but it sure the hole felt like it.
Some of us aren’t adjusting to this place as well as others. Johnny couldn’t believe Shabaz had said that; couldn’t believe she thought it was possible that any of them would have found adjusting to this place easy.
He could understand it was hard for the others. Shabaz had gone through more suffering than any skid had before without vaping themselves. Torres should have been learning how to grease her treads in the Combine. Bian had tried to take care of other skids and instead had watched them die. Or get saved by someone else. And obviously all the dying—not just the skids—had tweaked something in Albert. That or it was just Bian. Or he was just a jackhole.
Probably the last, Johnny thought with a bleak grin.
Both Bian and Shabaz felt like baggage. That wasn’t surprising, given that every time Betty spoke of her plans, it was Johnny and Albert and not much else. He got how that would bother the others—it would’ve driven him nuts. The only one it didn’t seem to faze was Torg, although things didn’t tend to bother Torg.
Or maybe he just hides it better.
The funny thing was that only a few weeks ago Johnny would’ve been cocky as snakes about the whole thing. Damn right, Johnny Drop was the one to save them: who else? He didn’t need Albert—hole, he probably didn’t need Betty-Vapin’-Crisp. He was Johnny Drop baby, gear it up and bring it on. A few weeks ago, he would have felt just like that. Now . . .
Now he was beginning to realize just how terrified he was.
Skids fought for themselves. Johnny had done that better than any skid alive and maybe—just maybe—better than any skid ever. But now Johnny wouldn’t be fighting just for himself: he’d be fighting for other skids. And that scared the crap out of him.
He’d failed Daytona. He’d failed Brolin. Without Albert, he’d have failed Shabaz.
And now he was supposed to save the Skidsphere? He knew one thing: whatever Betty had in mind, she’d better get real specific about his role soon before he lost his mind.
Of course, that feeling wasn’t helped by the fact that, for the past several minutes, Peg had been shadowing him out of the corner of his trail-eye.
Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. He stopped. Turned around. He was expecting her to be gone. After all, Betty had said she was a figment of his imagination, created by his inability to let go. Like all the other times, he’d round the corner and she’d disappear.
Except this time she didn’t.
She sat in the centre of the corridor, about ten metres away. Golden light glinted off her deep pink skin and her six red stripes. All three of her eyes faced his way, all of them blue like the sky they loved to hang over the Pipe. A small, crooked smile that Johnny had always loved graced her face.
Betty had called her a ghost. She sure the hole didn’t look like one.
A long moment where there was nothing but a soft hum from the walls, pulsing gently like a tide.
You’re not real. It broke Johnny’s heart to think it, but he had to accept it sometime. You’re not real. Sadly, he opened his mouth to say the words . . .
“I miss you too,” she said.
Johnny stared at her, stun
ned.
Talk to her yet? You’re not going to.
Peg sat in the centre of the hall, her lips twitching somewhere between laughter and sorrow. Johnny clicked forward a tread . . .
“Johnny!” Shabaz called. “Johnny, where are you?” She came around a corner. “There you are, what the hole? You sight-seeing?”
One of his eyes swung to Shabaz, but two stayed fixed on Peg. If Shabaz noticed her, she gave no sign. “Let’s go. Betty says we’re here.” She started back up the hallway, pausing at the corner. “Johnny?”
He hesitated, then moved to follow. “Okay,” he murmured, two eyes trailing behind. “Okay, I’m coming.”
He’d thought that she would disappear when he’d first turned around. Or when Shabaz had appeared, surely then. He was waiting for her to disappear now.
But Peg remained where she was, sitting in the centre of the hallway, bathed in golden light. All three eyes on his until he followed Shabaz around the corner . . . and then it was he who was gone.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Johnny was shaking when they caught up to the others. If there was a door anywhere nearby, hole if he saw it.
“Good,” Betty said. “You’re here. We’re on the outskirts of the Core. Now what I’m about to do is going to seem a little—”
“No,” Johnny said. “I’m not going anywhere.” It seemed as if his whole body was vibrating at the wrong frequency. His eyes felt out of focus and it had nothing to do with a virus.
I miss you too . . .
“Johnny?” Betty said, staring at him with concern.
“You keep talking about the Skidsphere. You keep saying you need me and Albert. Well, Albert’s not here. And me . . .” He took a deep breath, his body expanding to nearly twice its size. “I don’t know what you want me to do. So I’m not going anywhere until I understand something.”
Betty’s gaze on him tightened. “What happened?”
His stripes twitched. “It’s not important. If there’s a plan, I want to hear it. Now.”
“Me too,” Bian said. “I’m with Johnny.”
“Me too,” Shabaz said firmly.
Betty’s expression hovered somewhere between amusement and exasperation. “I can explain on the way. We have time.” Johnny, Bian, and Shabaz didn’t say anything. They might have been carved in stone.
Glancing at Torg, the oldest skid asked, “You want in on this?”
Torg leaned against the wall. “If you need, I’ll defend your honour, sugarlips,” he drawled. “Otherwise, I think I’ll join the mutiny.”
“Sugarlips,” Betty murmured. “I like that.” She studied them for a moment, then her stripe tilted. “All right, you asked for it. The plan, such as it stood, was to get to the Core. Theoretically, you can access the entire Thread from there, including the Skidsphere. Wobble and I would clear a path for you and Albert to follow. If I got killed, then Wobble would get you and Albert to the sphere. Then . . .” An embarrassed grin split Betty’s face from arm to arm. “Then you and Albert would fix it.”
Johnny stared at her. Then you and Albert . . . “Please tell me there’s more than that,” he breathed.
“It does seem to be lacking in specifics,” Torg agreed. “Not to mention, I didn’t hear my name once.”
“Join the club,” Bian muttered.
Johnny didn’t have time for self-pity or jokes; he felt like his eyes were going to burst. “Lacking specifics doesn’t even begin to cover it. Albert and I would fix it?” His hands clenched and unclenched. “Just a little vague, don’t you think?”
Betty’s grin didn’t fade one bit. “Well, that was your part of the plan.”
I’m going to hit her, Johnny thought. I’m going to punch Betty Crisp right in the eye. “And just how long,” he said aloud, “has that been part of the plan?”
“Since about the time you hooked up with Wobble.”
Johnny took a deep breath. Blinked several times so that his eyes didn’t dry into a desert. “Look . . . let’s ignore the fact that the plan relies on Albert . . . who isn’t here. Let’s ignore that apparently Albert and I—who have an absolutely fantastic record of working together—were supposed to figure something out. That’s not what’s wrong with the plan.”
“What’s wrong with the plan?” Betty said innocently.
“It doesn’t make any sense!” Johnny cried. “It’s backwards—makes it sound like you’re expendable. Which is insane, you’re the last one we can lose. You’re so many levels beyond any of us, if anyone is going to fix the Skidsphere, it’s you. Hole, Albert and I should be clearing a path for you.”
“No,” Betty said firmly, and her grin finally faded.
“Why not?”
“Because of what you just said. You’re right, when it comes to fighting, I’m way beyond your level. I’ve got lifetimes of experience fighting Antis and Vies, and I’ve got lifetimes of experience fighting with Wobble. In a fight, all you and Albert do is get in each other’s way. No, if we’re going to make it to where we need to go, Wobble and I are in the lead.”
Johnny started to protest, but she held up a hand to prevent him.
“Because,” she continued evenly, “you were wrong about the other thing. I am expendable. I’m not the last person we can lose—you are. Albert would be too, if he were here. Because when it comes to saving skids . . . you and Albert are far beyond my level.”
“That . . . that doesn’t make any sense,” Johnny said, though he saw both Shabaz and Bian unconsciously bob an eye.
“Doesn’t matter if it makes sense,” Betty said. All the flippancy she’d shown a few minutes before was gone. “It’s true.”
“You saved all of us!” Johnny protested.
“No,” Betty said. “I’ve killed Vies and Antis to cover you. But I never saved anyone but myself. I broke out of the Skidsphere. By myself. I’ve survived dives through the black. By myself. But you and Albert . . . you brought skids through with you.”
“Ahhh,” Torg breathed, as if everything in the universe suddenly made sense.
“Before you even met me,” Betty continued, “you almost cured Daytona single-handedly. Then, together with Albert, you did cure Shabaz.”
Something about the way she said that bothered Johnny, but he couldn’t pin it down and he didn’t have time. He was trying to listen to everything Betty said because apparently sixty or seventy thousand lives depended on it.
“I have no idea how you cured her,” Betty admitted. “None. I wouldn’t have known where to start. You and Albert went inside her. Exactly the way someone is going to have to go inside the Skidsphere.” Her gaze was locked on his own. “Do you see it, Johnny? I don’t matter. You and Albert are the only ones who can do what needs to be done. And Albert isn’t here. So it’s you. Johnny Drop.”
There was a moment of silence, then Torg swung an eye towards Shabaz and drawled, “I think we should get him a cape.”
“Now then,” Betty said, drawing a deep breath, “we can sit here all day and work out our issues . . . or we can go get it done. What’s it going to be?”
Johnny didn’t feel any less rattled than he had before. But she was right: regardless, they were running out of time. “Okay,” he said. “Let’s do it. Whatever. Wherever we’re going, whatever we’re doing, let’s go and do it now.” He looked around. “Where’s the door?”
“There isn’t one,” Betty said. Stretching out a Hasty-Arm, she plunged it right into the wall. A glowing square appeared, surrounding her arm. “This . . . this is going to be a little mind-blowing.” She twisted her arm.
Immediately, every line in the walls pulsed, fractured into a million pieces, then scattered up and out. The walls seemed to expand and fall away at the same time, opening up a world . . .
“Vape me . . .” Johnny breathed.
They were in a vast space. Embedded
under the ground beneath their treads, dim but clear squares of light sectioned a perfectly flat plain, no two the same size. Far above them—so far that Johnny’s mind did boggle at the sight—an arch of sky domed the expanse, lined and dotted and pulsing with the Thread’s golden glow.
“Welcome to the outer core,” Betty said.
“Where did the hallway go?” Johnny said. Doors he could understand. But this . . .
“Remember, space is an illusion. There was no hallway; just a hidden and relatively safe path for information to travel. We experience the Thread in a way that means something to us.”
“So what the hole does this mean?” Shabaz whispered, staring at the sky like she was afraid it was going to reach down and swallow her whole.
Johnny didn’t blame her. There were billions of specks of light, shining from distances he couldn’t even begin to comprehend. And they were layered: there was a depth that could only be registered by instinct. It was almost as if he were in the sky, looking down on the entire Thread far, far below.
“How did we get here?” he asked, trying to wrap his mind around something he could understand.
Betty’s stripe tilted. “Like I said, if you know how, in theory you can appear here from anywhere in the Thread.” She grinned. “I haven’t gotten quite that far yet, but I’m working on it.”
“Not much cover,” Torg murmured. Around them, a barren landscape stretched out, the horizon as distant as the lights above.
“But not so easy to find, either,” Betty said. “You can disappear in space.”
“I’ll bet you can,” Bian said softly.
“Plus, Wobble and I are jamming any scans. We won’t be invisible, but at least until we get close to the Core, someone’s going to have to look directly at us to see us.”
“Well,” Johnny said, taking a deep breath. “We didn’t come here to gaze and gawk. Which way’s the Core?”
Betty pointed and immediately they all saw it. A glimmering of light rising from the surface, more vivid than those against the horizon behind.
“Guns out,” Betty said as they started to roll. “Although if the Antis catch us this far out, we’re probably grease. SecCore will have too much time to swing a defence our way. The good news: the megalomaniac has pretty much eradicated any Vies around the plain. So we won’t have to worry about them. Probably.”
The Skids Page 19