by M. T. Miller
“I expect some additional services from you,” the Nameless said. “Nothing illegal, I assure you.”
“I’m listening.”
“First off, I need you to provide some guards to serve as escort for these women as they move toward the lifts.”
“Deal,” the fat man said.
“Second, I shall be accompanying them,” the Nameless said. “Along the way, I will point out a house. Inside is a woman’s body, dead for days.” He leaned forward, doing his best to remain composed. “I want her to have a proper burial.”
“We don’t bury people down here, Mr… Bones, is it? Them animals gotta eat too, y’know?”
I know, the Nameless thought, his empty stomach tightening. “Regardless, I want her to have a burial.” He raised his hands, letting the chips gleam. “Can you do that?”
“I…” The fat man stared at the pile of plastic money. “I think I can,” he said. “But there will be additional costs, if you know what I’m saying.” He grinned disgustingly.
“Would this cover them, perchance?” The Nameless let another chip drop onto the pile.
“Yes… yes, I think it would!” he said with a hungry stare.
“Then we have ourselves a deal,” the Nameless said, letting the clerk rake the chips in.
“Women,” he turned back toward his entourage, “you will have to wait. Your passes are being made.”
“Can’t be that bad,” Kiki said.
The others simply made themselves more comfortable, much to the amusement of the guards.
Several hours (and some awkward attempts at conversation later), the paperwork was all done. One by one, the women took their passes and, along with their escort, set course toward the gigantic pillar.
“This one’s a keeper, girls!” the fat man shouted from behind them. “Your regular puke messiah!”
No one gave him an answer.
On their way, the Nameless pointed out the deceased girl’s house. One of the guards noted it on his map. The rest of the walk went by without complication, and the whole group found themselves faced with the elevators.
“We are going up,” the Nameless said, pointing to the women. “All of us.”
The women showed their passes in unison, causing the guards to exchange some confused glances.
“Stocking up on some fresh meat, Mr. Bones?” one of them commented as he opened the lift.
“These are going to the second floor,” the Nameless said as he stepped inside. “I myself will be proceeding up to the third.”
One by one, the women followed him in. A moment later, the doors closed, and the contraption began its ascent.
“What can we expect up there?” the Mexican girl asked.
“Work,” the Nameless said as he turned to face her. “A lot of work. But also safety, something you did not enjoy down there.”
She had nothing to say in response, and neither did the rest.
“Try to stay close to me,” he said when the elevator started opening. “I will take you where you need to go.”
Visibly thrown off by the Nameless’ appearance as well as his choice of company, the second floor guards nevertheless did not make too much of a fuss. They checked the passes, stepped to the side, and let the new arrivals through.
The Nameless pointed toward the stairs to the right, and the group set course toward the apartment complex. Once they got to the counter in front of it, he handed the girls what was left of his money.
“Here you will each be issued a place to live,” he said. “I suggest that you try and get jobs as soon as possible. What I have given you will not last forever. Do we have an understanding?”
The women nodded.
“Now, I have business up on the third floor,” he said. “Take care.”
He slipped in between a pair of them, trying his best not to touch anyone with the encrusted vomit.
“Thank you!” a girl shouted.
It was nothing at all, he thought, hurrying up to the lift.
His second ride up was comfortable, as it always was. Besides some disgusted stares he got from the guards and the odd passerby, the walk home went swimmingly. With a turn of a key and a flick of a knob, he was back in his place.
He dropped on his knees as soon as the door closed shut.
It’s all my fault, he thought, his eyes refusing to stop leaking. He tried conjuring up the image of the women he had saved, the chance of a better life he had given them. He tried drilling it into his head: You have done something good!
It did not take. If anything, the horrifying guilt kept getting worse. All he could think of was the dead girl, and the future she would never have.
Interlude Six
Alone in her hanging palace high above the slums, Tarantula observed her handiwork. Lives weaving in together, struggling for dominance over each other, yet unable to exist individually. It was her masterwork, as well as her greatest failure.
No better option, she thought, trying to validate herself after seeing a particularly run-down square. The hovels in it could barely be considered livable. The manufacturing building in its center spewed black smoke so thick she doubted the filtering system could completely take care of it.
Doesn’t make it any more excusable, she thought, turning away from the balcony to face the drapes. Babylon was supposed to give those people a better life, to show them an alternative. Instead, it merely enslaved them in a different way.
She extended her arm, pushing the drapes to the side. The sight of an intruder inside nearly made her leap back in surprise.
“Coyote?” she shouted. “What are you doing here?”
“Paying you an unexpected visit, my dear associate,” Coyote said with a predatory grin. Still wearing his brown suit, he stood right in the middle of Tarantula’s living room. “I don’t like calling ahead. I can catch people in some interesting poses that way.”
“Nothing you haven’t seen before,” Tarantula said as she fully stepped in. She was completely nude, the way she always was in her home. “Or have you already forgotten the old times?”
“I forget nothing,” Coyote said, taking a seat on a nearby chair and throwing one leg over the arm. “That’s exactly why I came here, as a matter of fact. I want to know what you know.”
“You already do,” Tarantula said, her shapely body swaying toward another chair. Without a hint of modesty, she sat. “I told everyone as much as I could during the meeting. We need the tyrant. Without him backing us, the continent will burn.”
“And will he do something about the mess downstairs?” Coyote asked. “Or the one up in my domain?”
“What mess do you mean?” said Tarantula. “Everything is perfectly functional.”
“You don’t believe that yourself,” said Coyote. “We’ve turned human life into a battery, Tarantula. Doesn’t that bother you one bit?”
“Of course it does,” she said. “Give me an alternative and I might consider it.”
“Break the machine!” he said. “Throw a wrench so damn huge into it that not even our friend the Sun God’ll be able to fix it! Then, we let something new grow from the junk heap. Next time, it might actually be worth it.”
“You suggest we destroy what we’ve spent over a decade building?” Tarantula leaned forward. “Even if we could, could you imagine our dear boss’ retribution?”
“You mean the guy who has a table brought all the way up to that furnace-room, then makes us climb to see him? And after we’re done, the table has to be brought down so it doesn’t catch fire? Rinse, repeat? Am I the only one seeing how stupid that is?”
“This whole thing was more or less his idea, Coyote. I think he is allowed some eccentricity,” she said. “He has shown us great trust in sharing with us. If we break it, nothing will bode well. Trust me when I say it.” She smiled. “After all, I can see the future.”
“Yet you can’t see me,” Coyote said.
She nodded “True. When you hide, you become invisible to me. That has
always been your gift. What of it?” She did not mention the other things she was blind to.
“Nothing much,” Coyote said. “I’m simply trying to open your eyes. We all know your predictions aren’t perfect. If they aren’t perfect, then what are they good for?”
“Are we exchanging insults now?” she asked.
“Not at all.” He sighed, lifting his arms and letting them rest at the back of his head. “Fuck it. I thought this would go easier.”
“You thought what would go easier?”
“That,” Coyote said, pointing his finger at the balcony.
By the time Tarantula figured out the ruse, he was already gone from her sight. Filling the room with green light, she opened her additional eyes in an attempt to find him. Nothing at all.
He is like a kid. What is he even doing? she wondered, then chuckled. A kid? Strangely appropriate, despite the fact that he was as old as time. Along with the rest of them.
She relaxed in her chair, stretching her arms and legs. Don’t bother yourself with this, Tarantula, she told herself. Coyote was mischievous, but he never had a penchant for seeing things through. Besides, she couldn’t follow him in any case.
For as long as the Sun God plays ball, everything will be golden. The man they knew as Bones had been put to work doing what he did best, and the city was all the better for it. It was only a matter of time before the others realized his value, and offered him a place within the Management.
And then… Tarantula stretched her body once more. Then we will be ready to move beyond.
Chapter Twenty-one
The Nameless stared out the window, a large cup on the table in front of him. For the last two days, Café Heaven had been his second home, a little something called Irish Coffee serving for his breakfast, lunch and dinner.
Wherever I go, death follows. He did not even hurt anymore. Instead, there was only numbness. No drive to pursue any answers, no wish to take any kind of revenge. The fact that holding his breath required effort was the only reason he even bothered to breathe.
It might be best if I do nothing at all. He took the cup and emptied its contents down his throat. Paying absolutely no heed to the taste, he slammed it back on the table. He considered ordering another, because why not? He considered not ordering another, because why yes?
The Nameless’ neck produced a loud cracking sound as he sat up straight. He had not reaped since the incident, and his body was voicing its protests. Weeks ago, delaying a kill for that long would’ve left him barely able to walk. His condition seemed to be improving.
Why not see how far I can take this? After all, I it is not as if I have to fight anymore. He tilted his head left and right, producing a concert of snapping sounds. Yes, he thought, letting his back rest against his seat. Perhaps it was time to stop trying. Relax. See where everything went. The thought was disturbingly appealing.
This time, there is no one I can kill just by falling on them. He smiled at the thought.
“I love a man with a sense of humor,” a woman’s voice said .
Much slower than he was used to, the Nameless turned toward the person. She was absolutely stunning. Adorned in a tight, chess-patterned get-up and with short, curly hair that shone like gold in sunlight, she stared at him with profound interest.
“Not much to laugh about these days,” she said. “Mind sharing?”
“You would not like my humor,” said the Nameless coldly, but unable to divert his gaze from the woman.
“Why not try me?” she said, sitting down opposite him. As she did, he noted that both her eyes and brows were black. She smiled, revealing a set of pearly white teeth. “My interests are… diverse.”
“On any other day I would,” the Nameless said. “Today, however, I ponder something personal.”
“And how is that any different than what you did yesterday? Or the day before that?”
“Were you following me?”
“Not at all,” she said. “As a matter of fact, I am a regular here. And if you didn’t ponder something personal all the time, you might have noticed that.”
“Ah,” the Nameless said. She was right. The way he was, he would not have noticed a white elephant, let alone a human being. No matter how stunning she is.
“That’s okay.” Her smile widened. “You make a good statue, you know. Very convincing. If they make another movie up here, I might just pull some strings to cast you as scenery.”
What is a movie?
“I’m trying to make conversation here,” she said. “But you’re not giving me all that much to work with, you know?”
“Very well. I will bite,” the Nameless said. “Who are you and what do you want?”
“Good thing you’re good-looking,” she said. “Otherwise you’d never get anywhere with that attitude. But I guess showing interest is a sign of progress. I’ll be blunt. Like you.”
Despite his intentions, the Nameless smiled just a little bit.
“Yeah, I saw that,” she said. “My name is Lydia Watson. And I’m interested in you.”
So is everyone else, the Nameless thought. “For what reason?” he said.
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“On the impression you end up making,” she said. “Although to be frank, things aren’t looking too good for you.”
I do not want to destroy another life, the Nameless thought. Then again, had he gathered the courage to speak to the slum girl before, things might have turned out differently. He took another detailed look at Lydia. She seemed confident, capable of standing on her own two feet. The least he could do was show her some courtesy.
“Would they improve if I paid for your drink?” he asked.
“It’s a start,” she said. “Though I’d like it much more if you loosened your tongue instead of your wallet.”
Apparently, Lydia had ordered before she greeted the Nameless. The arrival of the waitress gave him a moment or two to gather his thoughts. What do I do? Choose action, or inaction? Options clashed with one another in his mind. On one hand, his inaction had led to the slum girl’s suicide. On the other, it was his presence in her life that had even set her on that course. And then there was the fact that she would have been cut up by the Rainbows had he not intervened in the first place.
“Hello?” Lydia said, wresting the Nameless back into the moment. “Anyone there?”
“Sometimes not even I am certain,” the Nameless said. Screw it, he thought. There was no right answer. Nothing can be worse than the nothing I’ve been in these last few days.
“Was that supposed to be a joke?” she said after taking a sip of her latte.
“Maybe,” the Nameless said. “My apologies. I was distracted. You now have my full attention. By the way, I am known as Horace Bones.”
“Not at all a made-up name,” Lydia said, the angles of her lips pointing upward again. “But fine, I guess. I met a guy some months ago, his legal name was Big Schlong. A former programmer. Figures.”
Try and act as if you know what she is talking about, the Nameless told himself. He gave her his most serious expression and nodded.
“He might have tried, but he wasn’t half as funny as you are,” she said. “And to top it off, you pull it off effortlessly. Now that’s talent.”
“I have been accused of many things, Miss Watson,” the Nameless said, “but being funny is not one of them.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” she said. “So, what is it that you do, Horace? And please, call me Lydia.”
“I am… I was a cage fighter,” the Nameless said. “Quite an infamous one, as a matter of fact. It was a short stint, but it made me enough money to climb up here.”
“Liar,” she said, her fingers tracing the edges of her cup.
“I beg your pardon?”
“The brutes downstairs aren’t wearing any gloves,” she said, “and I don’t see a single mark on that pristine face.”
“That only means that I was good,” the Namele
ss said with a chuckle. “Whether you choose to believe me or not, Lydia, it is the truth. However, it is also behind me.”
“Ah, willing to change our ways, are we?” She seemed pleased with that conclusion. “So, what keeps you sane these days?”
“Who ever said I was sane?”
“Hah!” Lydia’s eyes lit up. “Not me! Sane is so boring, don’t you agree?”
“Maybe. But most of the time, it is practical.”
“A regular philosopher, you are,” she said. “But even men of wisdom have to eat from time to time.”
I beg to differ, the Nameless thought as he glanced down at his empty cup.
“Eyes up here,” she said, her smile disappearing again. “I’m doing you a favor by telling you this. The first and last mistake many make up here is thinking they’ve made it and not getting themselves a job instantly. That’s a surefire way to get sent back down. And if you’ve quit your old gig, you can only go deeper after that. Get it?”
“Yes,” the Nameless said. “I understand. There is no need to worry about me.”
“How so?”
“Let us say that I am bound by contract,” he said. “And that I cannot divulge that information.”
“Ah. Police business, I guess,” she said, then took another sip. “That, or gang stuff. Am I warm?”
“You will have to make your own conclusion,” the Nameless said. “My lips remain sealed.”
“Well, whatever it is, I hope that it’s safe,” she said as she slowly rose. “Because I hope we can do this again, Horace.”
I should have picked a different name.
“Likewise, Lydia,” the Nameless said. “You… are leaving?”
“Yeah,” she said as she stared down her chess-patterned leg. “Nothing personal. Duty calls.”
“Business?” the Nameless said as he stood up. “Might I know where you work?”
“You might.” She moved toward him. His breathing accelerated despite the shape he was in. “But not today. I can be mysterious, too.”
She turned, leaving him at the table. A quick wave from the other side of the door followed, and the Nameless was alone again.