by Ray Aldridge
An idea came to Kemrin, an ugly frightening idea.
At first he shied away from it, tried to forget it, but that didn’t work; it was a horribly practical idea. So then he tried to flatten Leila into a bright empty dream character, he tried to believe she was just another unreal Howlytown bit player. She’s a whore, he thought, just some of the human rubbish that blows around the alleys of Howlytown. Not worth it.
But then he looked at her again, and saw how fine and brave and kind she was. And she saved you from Bluedog, didn’t she? he thought.
«Tell me,» he asked, finally. «How can I find this Jarvis Donabel?»
In his own way, Jarvis Donabel was as much a monster as Bluedog, but he was a cold, impartial monster, much easier to deal with. Donabel held up the merchandise in one great steel claw. «This is what you need.»
«How much?»
Donabel named a huge price. He didn’t bother to reply when Kemrin made a counteroffer. Kemrin rubbed at his cheek. The price would clean out his account, the account that would have gotten him safely out of Howlytown.
They took him a block before he reached Singh Louie’s. A muzzle flash from the alley, a dull crump, and the netgun rolled him into a helpless ball of charged strands. He strained and struggled, but he was well and thoroughly caught.
Peonies was there. The tall man cracked open Kemrin’s helmet with a hydraulic device.
Bluedog rose like a great malevolent storm behind Peonies, rage clotting his pale features.
«YOU!» Bluedog roared. «This is your fault! You let her use your gear; you must make reparations — and you will, never fear. But there’s no time now. We must have her before she makes another dream. Oh, wicked, wicked girl. I’ll never be merciful again!» He jerked aside, gestured to Peonies.
Again the instrument came down, scooped out Kemrin’s remaining human eye. The pain was worse this time. But Kemrin remained conscious as Bluedog pushed the eye into his socket and marched away, trailed by an entourage consisting of Peonies, the blonde woman, and two squat muscular black women carrying heavy-caliber splinter guns.
Kemrin loosened the net enough to get to his hands and knees. His mecheye gave him a clear view o f Bluedog as he approached the scanner at Singh Louie’s. Just before Bluedog put his stolen eye to the sensor, Kemrin dropped flat and covered his head.
The sensor’s probing radiation detonated the filament bomb coiled inside the eye, and the resulting explosion demolished the scanner housing, though the reinforced facade of the building was only scorched. Bluedog and his group were gone.
When red rain stopped falling, Kemrin strugged out of the net and got to his feet, swaying. Blood from the ruined eye socket trickled down his face. But he smiled all the way home.
FB2 document info
Document ID: a2ad0310-f948-46a4-aab5-b8d9ffc31b90
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 03 December 2012
Created using: FictionBook Editor Release 2.6.6 software
Document authors :
vitamin
Document history:
1.0 — конвертирование vitamin
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