That was a year ago. Shit.
Sure, I’m up-town. I’ve got a new synthetic limb that puts my old arm to shame. But I had to buy my own damn new Tac-suit, and I’m no closer to finding out who put a mile-deep hole in the Earth. The tech-boys tell me it came from an object in orbit, which makes finding the source near impossible. Back in the twentieth century, the human race started putting things in space. Three thousand years later and we haven’t stopped. At night it’s impossible to tell what’s a star and what’s some yuppie’s space-winni.
A layer of crap, a half mile thick, surrounds the Earth on all sides and bulges at the middle, like the rings of Saturn. And with almost as many people living up there as there are down here, finding out who or what owes me for this Tac-suit is near impossible. The fact that only three wanted felons and my arm were taken makes this case a low priority. Until someone decides to take another potshot at the Earth again, I’m grounded. Not that I’m complaining. My new partner is a fox.
“You on Dretch or something, Priest? Watch the freakin lanes.”
Rehna has a way with words that I always enjoy.
I twist the wheel and dodge some old lady driving way too slow for air-trans. She should have stayed on the ground with the rest of the simps. Damn people, afraid of technology. When the human race took to the skies en masse it gave us room to breathe and new freedoms that led to a technological renaissance that lasted for thousands of years. Cities grew up, thousands of feet tall. Vehicles took to the air, traveling faster and safer. Life sped up. Got better.
But not everyone took to the air. Some, afraid of change, stayed on the ground—living slow, unproductive lives; hugging trees, driving cars with wheels and sniffing the damn daisies. Aren’t many simps left now-a-days. Good thing too.
“Daydreaming again?” Rehna asks me with a smirk.
“Not about you, so don’t get your hopes up.” She’s gonna love that.
“Do you want me to land and beat you like a school girl?” Her face is turning red. She’s either embarrassed or about to shoot me. I decide to find out.
“Keep talking. I think I’m fallin in love.”
“That’s it.” She shoves me to the side and I see her take the wheel, but it doesn’t quite register in time to stop what happens next. We’re hurtling straight for the ground. My instincts tell me to take the wheel back, to scream, but I know Rehna. She’s not suicidal.
Our air-trans mobile unit comes to a stop five feet above the ground, face down. If it were a civilian unit we’d be a smudge on the pavement, but these sleek new mobile units can stop on a dime and cruise at nearly the speed of sound. It’s sleek and smooth, the way I like my women, but I can’t say I like the light blue color. Kind of Nancy if you ask me.
The hatch opens and I fall five feet onto the pavement. She knew I wouldn’t be wearing my belt. I hear Rehna’s boots hit the pavement behind me. A second later I hear the hum of her C130 warming up. We have a winner. She’s gonna shoot me. Now I know I’m falling in love.
“On your feet,” Rehna tells me.
I stand and turn to face her; damn she looks hot in a Tac-suit. I gotta remember to thank the man who designed them. They’re projectile proof, which is nice, as most perps can’t afford C130s. In a pinch can even protect the wearer from the depths of the ocean or the vacuum of space. Not that I’ve had occasion to test either claim. The point is, in most cases, they’re nearly indestructible. But the hot laser Rehna’s packing will cut through me like a slab of lard. I admire the curves of her body, which are accentuated by the tightness of the black Tac-suit. Her belt hangs loose on her hip...My eyes linger.
“Ugh. That’s it,” Rehna says. She’s losing patience with me. Her C130 falls to the ground. Her belt falls next. This is getting interesting.
Rehna swings high and then low, missing both times. She’s fast, I’ll give her that. But I’ve got ten years experience on her, and I can scan her like an unsecured porn server.
“This is stupid,” I say, but I don’t think it goes through.
I duck two more swings and a third catches my arm. Too bad for her, she picked the wrong arm. Cling! My synthetic arm is hard as steel, and she hit it with enough force to knock out a Rhino. Her thick glove keeps her fingers from shattering, and she lets out little more than a stifled grunt. She’s tougher than I thought. Her fist comes at me from the other side. I feel a breeze on my chin as her knuckles skim past my face. Too close.
I step back and prepare to end a fight that should have never begun. I told The Authority adding women to up-town was a bad idea. Of course, they didn’t listen and now I have to teach Rehna a lesson. One punch to the side should do. Don’t want to ruin her pretty face.
As I clench the fist in my human arm, a slight aberration in my vision catches my attention. My memory surges back to the warehouse. I saw the same distortion right before I lost my arm. My eyes track up. A wavering visual phenomenon, like heat rising from hot pavement, cuts straight through the center of a ten thousand foot behemoth, constructed a thousand years ago.
Whack! My check burns with pain after Rehna’s punch connects. But my eyes don’t leave the sky. Rehna must have noticed, because I don’t feel a second punch—good thing too, the first almost broke my jaw. What a woman.
Then it happens. Just like before. Gravity ceases to exist. Half of the behemoth and what looks like miles of other buildings come loose and float toward the sky, turning to dust as they move. Then it’s over.
Down the street, I see a hole like the Grand Canyon, but I can’t see the other side. It’s beyond the horizon. Then I hear the screams; folks panicking, shrieking in fear. We kick into gear and head for the mobile unit. Rehna’s in and buckled up in seconds, but two nearby noises catch my attention. Both are whiny—one from above, one from below. I turn to the second and see a little girl, the daughter of some simp probably, but still just a kid.
“Priest, move it! The whole thing’s comin down!” Rehna sounds panicked. That’s not good.
I look up and see what remains of the behemoth begin to crumble. I run for the girl, arms stretched out. The mobile unit’s engines are loud behind me. Rehna’s on the ball.
The girl must sense my urgency because she’s running for me now. I scoop her up like a football and look over my shoulder. Rehna’s coming on fast. Thank God she left the hatch open. This is going to be close.
I toss the girl back, and she lands hard in my seat. Probably hurt like hell, but at least she’ll live. Can’t say the same for me though. Let’s hope Rehna’s reading my mind and doesn’t want to kill me.
The mobile unit is on my heels when I jump into the air. I feel the closed hatch sliding beneath me, then the hard metal of the rear casing. I dig my mechanical fingers into the metallic roof and feel a tug as Rehna hits the accelerator, making a beeline for the edge of the city.
Like a falling redwood, the solid building begins to topple above my head, its shadow looming and blocking out the sun. My face begins to sting as dust moving past at one hundred fifty miles-per-hour scours my skin. Rehna must be able to see what I’m seeing. We have ten thousand feet of twisting metal and cement to outrun. As we hit the two hundred mile-an-hour mark, I think about how much of a bitch paper work for today is going to be back at up-town. Then I remember there might not be an up-town left.
We hit four hundred miles an hour, and I’m not thinking anything. My face is burning like its being held against an open flame, and the skin stitched to my synth-arm feels like it’s going to tear off. The wind is so loud in my ears I don’t hear the explosion as the building hits the ground behind us, leveling miles of city blocks and destroying several other buildings.
The mobile unit slows to a stop somewhere outside of the city. I don’t know where, wasn’t really paying attention. My forward momentum carries me over the roof and I slide across the hatch, landing on the pavement.
I look up and see Rehna leaning down above me. “You still alive, Priest?”
“Been worse.
Help me up.”
I stand to my feet and see my reflection in the mobile unit’s slick paint job. “Damn.”
“What is it?” Rehna asks me.
I look at my Tac-suit, torn and shredded on my body, hanging like a limp corpse. “Now they owe me two Tac-suits.”
Rehna smiles.
From Above - A Novella Page 2