by Dean, Warren
David put his head in his hands. "I know, I know. But putting her life in the hands of the beings that caused all of this in the first place makes no sense."
"No it doesn't," said Eunice. "But Charles is right, we have to take her."
"I'll do it," said Chunky. "We don't all have to go."
"No," said David. "I'll take her. She is not going into the lion's den without me."
"We will all go," said Eunice. "We should stay together."
There was no further argument from David or Chunky.
The following morning they packed what they thought they might need and set out for the common. Although it was cold outside, they dressed Pris lightly so as not to exacerbate her fever. David carried her the whole way. She was as light as a feather and he couldn't believe how much weight she had lost.
They walked straight down Marlborough Street and then followed the paths through the public garden. But when they reached Charles Street, they found that they couldn't go any further. The way onto the common was blocked by a cordon of armed men. David could see the shuttle in the background, but the cordon was controlling access to it. The crowd was growing larger by the minute and people were starting to push and shove.
He craned his neck, frantically trying to see over the heads of the people in front of him. In the distance he saw a familiar face. He handed Pris to Chunky and started to push his way forward. "Stay here," he said over his shoulder. "I'll find out what this is all about." The people between him and the cordon were not happy for him to push his way forward, but no-one actively tried to stop him. When he got through, he found himself face to face with Westside Phil, one of the gangsters who collected taxes for the Back Bay gang. He recognised one or two other gang members among the men of the cordon.
"Phil," he shouted, catching the man's attention. "What the hell is going on?"
"Haven't you heard?" said the gangster. "This is the last shuttle, man. The Greenies ain't sending any more after today. The price of admission to the common just went up."
David's heart sank. Of all the problems he had foreseen, this was not one of them. "Look, Phil, my wife is very sick. No-one will sell me the medicine she needs. I have to get her to that shuttle."
Phil nodded sagely. "You won't mind paying the fee, then." The price he named was astronomical. David tried to bargain with him, but he wouldn't budge.
David fought his way back to the others. If he, Chunky, and Eunice put together everything they had, it was just enough for one person. It took a couple of hours for them to work their way back to Phil. He gave David an oily smile. "Got your money ready?" he asked.
David paid him what they had. Phil looked at him coldly. "This isn't nearly enough for four of you," he said.
"It's enough for her," said David. "I told you, she is very sick. She can't even walk. I am going to have to carry her in."
Phil looked over his shoulder and beckoned one of the other gang members. The thug moved closer, waving his laser repeater threateningly. Phil turned back and gave David another smile. "You're right," he said. "It is enough for her. And I can see that someone has to carry her, I'm not stupid."
His smile disappeared. "But not you." He pointed at Chunky. "He can take her in on condition he comes straight back out again. And to make sure that he does, you are staying here with me."
David glared at him. "Fine," he said, "but she is unconscious. She will need her mother to stay with her on the shuttle."
Without giving Phil a chance to reply, he shoved Pris into Chunky's arms and pushed him and Eunice towards a gap in the cordon.
"But David…" said Chunky.
"Just go, I'll wait for you here."
"Very touching," sneered Phil, but he made no move to stop Chunky, Eunice, and Pris as they walked through the cordon and made their way towards the shuttle.
David waited until they were inside and then reached into his pocket.
"I'll give you my apartment," he said, taking out the keys and offering them to Phil.
"What?" said the gangster.
"I'll give you the apartment on Marlborough Street if you let me through."
Phil laughed humourlessly. "I can take that anytime I want," he said. "You'll have to come up with something better than that."
David could see that he wasn't going to get anywhere with the man and pushed his way back out of the crush of people around the cordon. When he was out of sight of the gangsters, he checked that the Personet was up and called Chunky.
He answered immediately. "Hi, we are on the shuttle."
"I know," said David. "How is Pris, have they seen her yet?"
"Yes, they checked her condition and treated her immediately. They gave her meds to fight the infection and put her on a drip. The physician who saw her says that she should recover."
David closed his eyes with relief. "That's good. You were right; we should have brought her sooner."
"She'll be fine now," he replied. "That's the important thing. I can see the colour coming back into her face already."
"Did you have any problems getting in?"
"No, there is no screening process or anything. We have been worrying for nothing; they don't care about who we are at all. They aren't concerned about people using their 'links either, in fact they are actively encouraging people to get their families together and stay on board. Anyway, I'll wait a few minutes to see how Pris is doing and then I'll come back outside."
David took a deep breath. "No," he said. "Stay there. I have been thinking about what you and Pris have been saying. What kind of life is left for us here? We have lost everything we worked for and the city is now controlled by goons like Westside Phil. And what happens if Pris gets sick again? Or Eunice, or one of us? We don't have the money to buy the right meds and the Faerie Folk won't be around."
"What are you saying?" asked Chunky.
"I'm saying that we should go with them and start a new life. If they really aren't concerned about us, then why should we be concerned about them?"
"But how are you going to get onto the shuttle?" Chunky asked pragmatically. "How will you get through the cordon?"
"Let me worry about that." Having made the decision to go, David was determined to find a way. "I'm not completely out of ideas. Can you find out when the shuttle is leaving? I need to know how much time I have."
"I will ask around," said Chunky. "Be careful, don't do anything stupid." He ended the call.
Once, that last comment would have made David smile. Before the collapse of Forever Incorporated, Chunky had always been the irresponsible one. But the events of the last few months had muted his devil-may-care attitude. He had become quieter and more withdrawn. He had even lost weight, recovering some of his old football player physique.
David had changed too, if he was honest with himself. He had by no means become reckless but, with nothing left to lose, he was prepared to take risks he would never have contemplated before.
He decided to check the rest of the cordon while he waited for Chunky's call. There might be a section which was not well guarded. For an hour he tested the perimeter. But there were thugs with laser repeaters spaced evenly the whole way around. He tried negotiating his way through at a few places but found that the gang was disciplined and well organised. The admission fee was the same, no matter who he asked. He tried bribery again, going as far as offering the mansion, but the gangsters just stared at him blankly. They were in the Back Bay gang; how could they go and live in the hills?
By the time David got back to where he had started, he knew that there was no way in. The only thing he could think of was to go back to the apartment and sell what he could to raise the fee. He was walking back along Marlborough Street when Chunky called.
"David, you had better get a move on, the shuttle is almost full. A physician I spoke to says that they are leaving soon and that they are not coming back. I managed to find one of the pilots, who says that this is the last day the Faerie Folk are sending shuttles to Earth. He say
s that the star ships are also almost full and that they will be taking off as soon as today's shuttles have returned."
David stopped walking. "Chunky, I can't sneak through the cordon. It is too tight and the gang members refuse to be bribed. How much time do I have? Maybe I can sell everything in the apartment and raise enough for the fee. Hell, maybe I can sell the apartment itself."
"You don't have more than an hour or two," said Chunky doubtfully. "I think your best bet is to try another shuttle. The pilot told me that there are two others in Boston at the moment. One is north of the river at Donnelly Field and the other is at Joe Moakley Park near the old harbour. They both landed later than this shuttle, so they should have less people on board. Try Joe Moakley first, the Prince is in control of that area and he at least knows you."
"It's too far," said David. "Even if I run all the way, it will take me hours to get there."
"Use the car, stupid," said Chunky.
David had forgotten about the car. The battered old Lamborghini Aventador had once been his pride and joy. He bought it when the Factory had posted its first multi-million dollar profit. In its time it was state of the art, but its massive engine chewed a lot of fuel and it was soon relegated to dinosaur status by vehicles sporting the new air-vortex technology. As the years went by he had used it sparingly and tended it lovingly. Unfortunately, fuel had become more and more expensive, and eventually it had been locked away in a basement and forgotten.
When the Factory folded and everything had been sold, the old sports car had been deemed worthless. In an environment where the price of fuel was exorbitant, an ancient gas-guzzler like the Aventador was just so much scrap metal.
Desperate to retain some reminder of his past glory, he had taken the old car and stored it in an unused garage nearby. When the latest fuel crisis began, he spent some money buying two full tanks on the black market, reasoning that he would keep the scarce liquid for a rainy day. Well, it was metaphorically raining and Chunky was right; it was time to use the car.
For a moment, he thought about trading the fuel, but there wasn't time to find someone with the cash to buy it, and if he offered it to Phil or one of his cronies, he risked the gangsters simply taking it off him. The best thing he could do was to use the car to get to Joe Moakley Park.
He hurried back to the apartment and dug the ancient car keys out from under a loose floorboard. It had begun to rain, so he shrugged on his overcoat before running around the corner into Beacon Street. He found the dilapidated garage and shouldered open the warped old door. The brilliant orange paintwork had faded somewhat, but the old Lamborghini was still an impressive sight. He cleared some junk away from the doorway and climbed into the driver's seat.
Turning the key, he held his breath, wondering how the engine would react. He couldn't remember when he had last started it. After a couple of minutes of whining and coughing, the old V12 roared to life. David's heart gave a leap; he had forgotten the fantastic sound it made. He eased the car out of the garage and into the deserted street. It seemed that everyone had gone to the common, attracted by the sideshow taking place there.
Wasting no more time, he gunned the engine, and the car leapt forward. The engine wheezed and spluttered a few times, but it had been made to last and it was soon purring gruffly as he headed along Beacon Street. He turned right down Dartmouth and followed the road all the way to the South East Expressway. From there, it was short hop to Joe Moakley Park.
When he got there, he saw a very similar scene to the one at Boston Common. Crowds of people had flocked to the park and were being held back by a cordon of armed men. He saw a few policemen in the cordon, and his hopes rose. But they were dashed a moment later when he realised that they were members of the Prince's South Boston gang. He parked the Aventador down a back street well away from the crowds. No-one would steal it; he was more concerned about mindless vandalism.
He locked the car and pushed his way through the people until he reached the cordon. The admission fee being demanded was almost as much as at the common. He asked to see the Prince, and was given a peculiar look. The Prince is on the shuttle, one of the gangsters told him. David would have to wait until he returned.
He didn't bother to test the cordon. He knew it would be solid. But he couldn't afford the admission fee and he didn't have time to wait for the Prince. None of the gangsters had any idea when he would return or, indeed, whether he would return at all. There was nothing to stop him from taking up the Faerie Folk's offer of sanctuary himself. And even if he didn't, David had no guarantee that he could persuade the man to let him through the cordon.
All he had to bargain with was the apartment, the mansion and the Aventador. The Prince would have no use for the first two as they were not on his turf. The third would only appeal to him as some sort of trophy and, in David's experience, the Prince was not usually interested in anything that could not be reduced to cold, hard cash.
As he stood wondering what to do next, Chunky called again.
"David, our shuttle is about to take off. Have you been able to get onto one of the others?"
"Not yet. I'm at Joe Moakley but the Prince has the place sewn up as tightly as the common. And he isn't even here; his thugs say he is on the shuttle. They don't know when he will be back. If I wait for him I might miss the opportunity of getting onto another shuttle."
"Don't wait," said Chunky. "Try the one at Donnelly Field. If you have no luck there, you can always come back to Joe Moakley."
"You're right. With no traffic on the roads, the Aventador will get me across town in twenty minutes."
Chunky was silent for a few seconds. "Look, David, this is our last chance to get off the shuttle. You need to tell me whether you are going to make it. If you aren't, then we should all stay. Only…"
"What's the problem? What aren't you telling me?"
"The physician says that Pris needs to stay on her drip for at least twenty-four hours to make a full recovery. If we get off now…"
"No," said David quickly. "We've made our decision and we aren't changing it. Stay on the shuttle. If I can't get on one of these shuttles I will drive out of the city and find one somewhere else."
"But today is the last day. What if you can't find one? What if they have all left already?"
David gritted his teeth. "They can't have all left already; it is still early in the day. Stay on the shuttle. Whatever happens, I don't want Pris to spend the rest of her life in this place. What if she gets sick again? Or what if something happens to me, or you? Who is going to protect her? No, I will find a way to get onto a shuttle."
"Okay," said Chunky, "if you're sure." He paused. "They are closing the doors. I probably won't be able to call you again. How will I know if you've made it or not? How will I find you?"
"Don't worry, I'll find you. If we aren't on the same star ship, I will ask the Faerie Folk to help me. They owe me as far as I'm concerned." There was an awkward silence before he spoke again. "If I don't make it, tell Pris…" He couldn't finish the sentence.
Chunky cleared his throat. "I'll tell her."
David heard a faint roar in the background.
"They've started the engines," said Chunky. "Good luck, David."
The call ended.
David walked quickly back to the car. There were a few curious onlookers standing around it. He got in and started the engine, alert for any trouble. Thankfully, no-one tried to interfere. They would regret it if they did, he fumed. He raced through the city, revelling in the feeling of breaking every speed limit in the city.
But when he reached Donnelly Field, his worst fears were realised. There was a mob of people around the shuttle and the scene had turned ugly. Members of the Cambridge Street gang were trying to control access to the shuttle, but there were too many people. David watched from the car as the mob broke through the cordon in a number of places. As they ran towards the shuttle, some of the gangsters opened fire. Scores of people were hit and pandemonium reigned.
Unfortunately, many other people had the same idea. They converged on the shuttle from all angles, some bloody and wounded, others clutching captured laser repeaters. But no-one reached the vessel; they all slammed into an invisible barrier.
When David reached the barrier he desperately tried to find a way through it or around it. He even asked other people to lift him onto their shoulders so that he could try to climb over it. But it was impregnable.
Then someone tried to shoot a hole in the barrier and, within seconds, everyone holding a repeater followed suit. David flung himself to the ground as laser fire ricocheted in all directions. More people were killed and injured, but the barrier remained intact.
Lying on the ground with his hands over his head, David heard a dull, rumbling sound over the screams of the wounded. He looked up and saw the shuttle lifting slowly off the ground. The Faerie Folk had seen enough. The shuttle's engines roared and, in less than a minute, it had disappeared into the thick clouds scudding across Donnelly Field.
He pushed himself to his feet, checked for injuries, and then ran back to the Aventador. The Prince was now his last hope. He gunned the engine and sped off, almost hitting some people hurrying away from the carnage. He raced back the way he had come, crossing the river and testing the car's top speed when he got back onto the South East Expressway.
As he neared Joe Moakley Park, he stole a glance at his 'link. It had been just over an hour since he had left. Surely the Prince would be back by now. He took the off-ramp leading to Old Colony Avenue and took some of the bends at hair-raising speed. He was definitely getting the hang of driving the Lamborghini again.