Snowburn

by Frost, E J

  “A Snatcher mark,” the rat-man scoffs.

  “Tainted meat,” one of the others sniggers.

  “He bought a ticket,” Kez insists.

  The first rat-man lifts his lip, baring those pointed teeth again. “Show us the ticket.”

  I bring it out of my pocket, held between two fingers, a knife cradled in my palm. I turn my palm over to offer him the ticket, making sure the edge catches the light.

  The rat-man tilts his head to the side. “That is a fine blade, ticket man.”

  “Like it?”

  “Very much. Do you have others?”

  “A few,” I allow.

  “May we see them?”

  “Sure.” I give him a grin that’s just as feral as his, even if my teeth ain’t as sharp. “Where d’you want ‘em?”

  “Is that a challenge, ticket man? If I take that blade from you, do I get them all? Do I get more?” His wet lips pull back from those pointed teeth.

  “Wait, wait,” Kez interjects. “We bought tickets. We bore the marks. Don’t the Downers honor these anymore? Are the Deeps closed?”

  “The Downers are hungry,” the rat-man snarls. “The upperworld riots, the Downers starve. You have safe passage, but he has nothing—”

  “He has a ticket! And a mark!” Kez yells. “If those mean nothing then the Deeps are closed and you will starve!”

  “You threaten us, Lightfoot?!”

  “No, no.” Kez holds up her hands. “I’ll pay. I brought him. I’ll pay. Blood, not meat.”

  I slant a glance at her. “Kez—”

  She shakes her head and I shut my mouth. This is her show. If the only way to walk away from this is for her to pay my way out in blood, and she’s willing to pay it, then I can respect her choice.

  I’ll make it up to her later.

  “Blood for his passage.” The rat-man nods. “One liter. That is a good exchange. The box that you came for is extra. Nacht says a thousand hard.”

  Kez shakes her head. “Two hundred hard. That’s the price I agreed with Penny.”

  “The steel bitch does not speak for us, woman. A thousand hard.”

  “Three hundred hard.”

  “You bargain with me? You come to the Deeps with nothing to offer. You deny us meat. You insult us by offering your tainted blood, and you dare bargain with me?”

  Kez gives the rat-man a hard, cold look. A killing look. I didn’t know she had that look in her. “You know what? Fuck you. I bought the ticket. I endured the mark. I agreed a price. If the Downers don’t honor those things anymore then your word is worthless. Come on, Snow. We’re done here.”

  “Right behind you,” I growl.

  Kez begins to back out the way we came. I hand her the bag I’m carrying so that both of my hands are free. Wait for the first one to make a move. The one who called me tainted meat breaks first. He howls, more like a dog than a rat. He drops onto all fours, his claws digging into the sandy tunnel floor, and charges after Kez.

  I let fly with the blade that Rat One admired and the charging rat-man drops to the ground, my knife buried in one crusty white eye. He’s not getting up again. Something hits him a second later. A writhing line of light that carves the meat of his shoulder and back into red ruin. I don’t have time to see what it was or where it came from, because the rest of the pack is coming.

  Two more fall with blades through their eyes before any get close enough to grapple. One throws himself into the air, arrowing down at me with his claws extended. I catch him by the throat, going in under his claws. Follow up with a slice to his belly that spills his guts over my wrist in a hot, slippery gush. Using his own momentum, I throw him, still screaming, trailing intestines, at a pair of rat-men who are hurdling the bodies of the fallen towards Kez. The first hurdler goes down with another of those lines of light slicing through his throat. It carves all the way through; his head rolls down his back to bounce on the sand. Gutless sails over Headless and tumbles into Hurdler Two, knocking him to the floor. Kez pauses in her retreat to give Hurdler Two a kick in the head with her steel-toed boots. His teeth hit the tiled wall like rolling dice.

  “Stop!” Bellows Rat One. He grabs the last rat-man by the throat and throws him backward onto the sand when the rat-man takes too long to obey. “Enough! Lightfoot! Enough! Tell your Reaper Man to stop!”

  Kez pulls herself upright and stands hipshot, holding a twisting filament of light in her hand, a very unfriendly version of her mischievous grin curling her pale mouth. “Hold up, Reaper Man,” she says.

  I shake rat-guts off my hand and move to stand next to her. Take stock of the six dead or dying rat-men on the ground. The two still standing. And the dozen or so pairs of glowing eyes that flicker in the dark beyond Kez’s circle of light.

  “You got a proposition for me?” Kez asks Rat One.

  He’s panting, his white-furred chest heaving, even though he stayed back from the fight. “You bring a Reaper to the Deeps?”

  Kez glances at me and smiles. “Looks that way.”

  “You don’t ever come here again, Reaper Man. The Deeps are closed to you.”

  I shrug. I don’t give a shit. I didn’t know they existed.

  “Lightfoot, you, too—”

  Kez shakes her head. “You don’t want to go there, Mister. The Pack may be hungry, but I know the rules. You pissed on the Underlaw, not me.”

  “You bring us nothing!”

  “I brought hard credits, as agreed. You want them? They’re still on offer. Three hundred hard for the box and what’s in it. Going once, going twice . . .”

  “Five hundred. And a liter of blood. To appease the families of those who fell.”

  “Done,” Kez says, a little too quickly, and I realize that, Reaper Man or not, she didn’t think we’d make it out.

  “Fletch, get a bucket,” Rat One snarls at the other rat-man, who is still picking himself up off the ground, clutching his bruised throat.

  Kez points at one of the bags over my shoulder. I unsling it and pass it to her. She unfastens it, takes out five wrapped stacks of octagons and places them on the sand. She closes the bag, but not before I see several more wrapped stacks in the bottom of the bag. She could have paid more. She expected to. She drives a hard fucking bargain.

  She pulls off her backpack and takes a handheld scanner out of it. Passes it over the stacks of credits and holds it out to Rat One. Showing him the credits are validated, unmarked, un-fucked-with. He nods.

  Fletch-the-Rat returns with a small jug. It has markings up the side, tenths of a liter. Ten marks. Thinking about what’s about to go in it, the jug suddenly looks much larger.

  Kez holds out her arm and Rat One extends a long, black claw towards her pale skin. I hear Kez take an unsteady breath.

  I brush Rat One aside and pull a clean shiv out of my wrist sheath. If she’s going to bleed for me, I’ll do the cutting. I nick her forearm, quickly, cleanly, catching the ulnar vein but avoiding the artery and nerve. Fletch-the-Rat shoves the jug under Kez’s arm as a thin line of red begins to run from the cut. I take the jug from Fletch, pull Kez’s back to my chest and hold her with my arm across her body while she bleeds. A liter, fast, will make her lightheaded, and if she loses her balance, I don’t want the rat-men to see her weakness.

  She bows her head over her arm. It’ll be hurting, now that the initial shock of the injury has passed. She’ll start feeling cold, and right on schedule, I feel her shiver. I pull her a little closer so my body heat offsets the chill. I put my mouth to her ear, whisper to her, “Spread your feet. Even out your stance.” She does, balancing her weight. The smell of her blood rushes up to me, fresh copper cutting through the miasma of opened bowels and rotting meat that fills the tunnel. I turn my head a little, bury my nose in her dreads, and fill my lungs with the sweet soap smell of her hair. “Half-way there,” I tell her when the red liquid reaches the fifth mark.

  “Snow,” she says quietly. “There’s a spare shirt in my backpack.”

 
“I’ve got it.” My new life ain’t so different from my old one that I don’t carry a tube of newskin and a couple of rolls of bandages in my pockets. “We got sixteen minutes to get back, by the way. An’ it took ten to get down here.”

  She nods. Bleeds in silence until the jug is full. As soon as the blood reaches the tenth mark, I hand the jug to Rat One and press my thumb hard against her wound. I can’t hold her steady and fish the bandages out of my pocket, though. “Put your thumb over mine,” I tell her. She does. I shift my thumb out of the way and she clamps down on the cut. I retrieve the bandages and after a quick rummage through my pockets, the tube of newskin. She moves her thumb when I point the newskin at her arm. A bead of blood quickly wells up and I squirt it with the sticky spray. Twenty-four hours and the wound will be completely healed, maybe without even a scar since it was a good, clean cut, but we have to keep it closed until the newskin cures. I wrap her arm quickly, tie it off and tuck the ends under. “C’mon. Tick-tock.”

  “Other bag,” she whispers and sinks to her knees. For a moment I think I’ve lost her. She’s fainted and I’ll never be able to carry her and her fucking box out of here before the Snatchers begin peeling strips off her brother. But then she shakes herself, drags the third bag over with her uninjured arm, unfastens it and pulls out a foam-wrapped bundle. She peels off the foam, revealing a blocky machine. She flicks it on with a blue haylon hum. I hand her the last bag off my back, help her unpack a twin machine.

  She looks up at Rat One. “The box,” she says.

  “You have honored—” he begins.

  “Mister, I don’t want to be rude, but I have absolutely no time. Give me the box right fucking now or I take Reaper Man off hold.”

  Rat One’s long pink nose twitches. He disappears into the darkness and I’m too close to Kez’s halo to see where he goes. “Fuck,” Kez whispers.

  “Thirty seconds, we gotta go.” I use the time to rub my hands along the sandy floor. Gooey skin equals unpredictable grip. “Box or no box.”

  “Aye-firmative,” Kez says.

  Rat One is back in twenty-five seconds, dragging a metal crate. I hear Kez start breathing again. She opens the cover in a puff of vapor, nods at the contents, then shuts it again. Slaps the boxy machine against the side of the crate. I follow her lead with the second machine. With a whir, the box lifts off the ground. Kez clips a line to it and rises unsteadily to her feet.

  I take the line, wrap my arm around her. She struggles and I release her. Is she too proud to accept my help, or scared of appearing weak in front of the rats? Neither, it turns out. She snags her backpack, tucks the two empty bags into it, and staggers back to my side. Practical kitten.

  “Can you run?” I ask her.

  “How long until Penny starts skinning my brother?”

  “Eleven minutes, thirty seconds.”

  “I can run.”

  “Say goodbye to your little friend. Time to go.”

  “Mister, it’s been a real nightmare. Hope I never see you again.”

  “Nor I you, Lightfoot,” Rat One says. “The Deeps stay open?”

  “That’s our deal. Bye.”

  “Goodbye, Lightfoot. Goodbye, Reaper Man.”

  Before he’s finished his goodbyes, I drag Kez away. Back down the maglev tunnel. Knowing where we’re going makes it faster, and this time I don’t pause to admire the artwork. We reach the station and I hook Kez around the waist, toss her up onto the platform. She doesn’t weigh much more than fifty kilos herself. I vault up after her. It’s easier now that I’m only carrying the money-bag, which is maybe half as heavy as it was before. The box floats serenely after me.

  Kez struggles to her feet on the platform. I catch her around the waist again, drag her upright and support her as we run. Back through the hanging plaz, through the branching tunnels, to the cistern room. I hammer on the painted balloon.

  No answer.

  I check the burn on the back of my hand. Two dots remain. “Kez, we got a problem.”

  She shakes herself out the stupor she’s fallen into. “Fuck, Tank! Tank! Stop wanking off and open the goddamn door!”

  The panel doesn’t move.

  “Want me to go through it?”

  Kez shakes her head. “It would take an e-bomb. Have one handy?” When I shake my head, she fumbles at her right wrist. Puts her touch-screen together, scrolls and taps until she gets an image of five crossed blades. The screen buzzes. Once, twice.

  “Hello, Kezzy.” The monster’s dark treacle voice.

  “I’m here, Penny. I’m at the front door. Where’s Tank?”

  “I believe he’s using the gentlemen’s at the moment. Arc, is Tank in the head?” she drawls. Someone murmurs in the background.

  “Penny, not to be a bitch, but couldn’t he have held it for a couple of minutes?”

  “Well, when Nature calls, honey . . .”

  “Penny! I’m at the goddamn door. If I’m late because Tank is taking a piss—”

  “Shouldn’t you have given yourself enough time for such an eventuality? I warned you, Kezzy. Beware the lastminute—”

  “Angebot, yes, I got it! Stop fucking with me, Penny. I am seriously not in the mood. Send someone to open this door so I can collect my goddamn brother.”

  “Or what?”

  Kez reels on her feet, her head lolling back against my shoulder. She slams her left hand against the wall panel, shakes herself. “Or nothing. I don’t make threats, Penny. You know this about me. Now stop fucking around and open the door.”

  “Ah, well, I’m terribly sorry—”

  “Hey,” I interrupt. “She may not make threats but I do. Open the fucking door now or I’ll tear it down and start carving off bits of metal until I hit something that bleeds.”

  “Mister, Snow, is it? Do you have any idea who you’re talking to?”

  “Yeah, you’re the ones who don’t know who you’re fucking with. Stick the name Halemano Hauser into your orrey and see what comes out.”

  The touch screen goes dark. After a long moment, the panel slides to the side.

  I drag Kez into the Snatchers’ palace. Stop in front of the clock. Twenty seconds to spare. No sign of the monster. Or of Kez’s brother.

  The sound of laughter from one of the other rooms. Ape and the monster appear, walking side by side. The monster has her arm through Ape’s. Ape’s drinking out of a plaz bulb as he walks. He looks relaxed. His skin’s whole.

  If he so much as smiles at us, I’m going to flay him myself.

  “Kezra! And Mister . . . Snow. So glad you could join us. And right on time, too. You know how I adore punctuality.”

  I give her a hard stare before lowering Kez to the floor. The bandage around Kez’s arm is soaked through. She’s so pale she looks blue. I kneel next to her, prop her up on her backpack. Push her bangs back from her face. “Hang in there,” I tell her.

  “What happened?” Ape drops down on his knees next to his sister.

  “Fucking rats weren’t happy with the price. Or the mark,” I say as I take out the bandages and newskin. “Gimme that. She needs fluids.” I take the plaz bulb from him. Hold it for Kez to drink from. She drains it dry in a couple of gulps.

  “They have lost all sense of honor,” the monster says.

  “They’re starving,” Kez says weakly. “You have plenty.” She nods at the empty bulb. “Why don’t you share with them?”

  “With vermin? Why? So they can spread? So they can breed? No, Kezzy. There are two ways to deal with rats. Poison them or starve them out. Poison didn’t work. They smelled it.” That would explain the rotting meat stink in the tunnels. The monster continues, “So we’ve tried Plan B. And it seems to be working rather well.”

  “It almost got me killed,” Kez hisses.

  Ignoring their argument, I peel off the bloody bandage and press my thumb against the wound. While I’m applying pressure, Kez loops her other arm around my neck and slowly pulls herself into my lap. I help her, tucking her into my ches
t, folding her injured arm between us.

  “If someone like me dies down here, the Deeps will close,” Kez says. “No one will come.”

  The monster purses her mirrored lips.

  “That would be a pretty major problem with Plan B,” I observe.

  The monster regards us in stony silence.

  I check the wound again. Barely oozing. I give it a fresh spray of newskin and rewrap it. Toss Kez’s backpack and the tether for the box to Ape. Then I climb slowly to my feet, lifting Kez in my arms as I rise. “Let’s go.”

  “I can walk,” she murmurs.

  “Now’s not the time to find out.” Not around all these predators.

  She puts her arms around my shoulders, turns her face into my neck. It’s freezing in the Snatchers’ tunnels, but her skin feels clammy against mine. “Wait,” she whispers.

  I stop, adjust her in my arms.

  “You opened the door for a name,” she says, turning her head towards Penny.

  “A dead man’s name. Or so the stars say.”

  “He stays dead. Silence for silence. You don’t repeat that name and I don’t tell anyone what happened here. The Deeps stay open. Deal?”

  The monster’s silent for a long moment. Finally, she says, “Deal.”

  “Goodbye, Penny,” Kez says, turning her face back into my neck.

  “Goodbye, Kezzy,” the monster says. “Goodbye, Mister Snow. Goodbye, my hairy Ape Man. See you soon.”

  I don’t wait to hear anymore. Don’t want to think about what the monster and Ape have been doing while Kez has been bleeding. I turn and carry Kez out of the Snatchers’ den before anyone else tries to hurt her. Ape trails behind us, dropping a little further back with each step as I find my stride, settle Kez more comfortably in my arms, until by the time we’re back to the escalator, he’s just a bobbing point of light back in the tunnel.

  I step onto the escalator, readjust Kez so that the handrails help me support her weight. My biceps are burning, but it’s not far now to the exit. Then I’ll have to figure out something else. I don’t think I can carry her the two klicks to the ship.

  “You made one mistake,” I tell Kez as the escalator carries us steadily upwards.