Hurt World One and the Zombie Rats

by Stuart Parker

  *

  The Air Shuttle engines purred with the latest magnotronic charged engines. From New York to San Francisco was a smooth thirty minute flight. Renaissance’s position as the head of the Hurt World saw her crisscrossing the skies on a daily basis and she was one of the select few permitted to fly at forty five thousand feet, the coveted number at which the congested skies suddenly cleared, the altitude set aside for royalty and government and those they trusted enough to allow at the same height. In some countries there was no one. A hundred countries had granted Hurt World access to that altitude; not that it could do its job that high up.

  Renaissance was sharing the lavishly decked out cabin with her Manager for Operations, Spiros Pardos. Pardos didn’t look comfortable in the bright purple lounge chair, sitting forward, rubbing his thick moustache, the only hair above his stiff red collar.

  ‘Gustav Fall has doubled the security at his Tunisian laboratory,’ he said. ‘Like me, he obviously can’t see one good reason why we wouldn’t pay him a visit.’

  ‘Forget it,’ snapped Renaissance. ‘If we over-reach the World Court judgement, we’ll have the Stamford lawyers all over us and I want Mas too much to be closed down.’

  ‘Well, who will you send after her?’

  Renaissance had a more relaxed posture on her own garish lounge sofa. She pondered a moment and murmured, ‘Recommendations?’

  ‘I suggest your choice be based on one of two considerations.’

  ‘Which are?’

  ‘The technician who successfully brings Mas to justice will certainly be in line for promotion into Hurt World Two, so you might want to choose the person whom you would like for that to be. Alternatively, you can base your selection purely on the continental region involved. In that case, the Central American technician is Alice Organe.’

  ‘I see. There is a third consideration, however. To bring in a technician deemed most likely to survive a confrontation with Mas. And, unfortunately, I’m afraid that’s the shortest list of all.'

  ‘They’ve all had the necessary training.’

  ‘Yes, but there will be a moment against Mas when no matter how well practiced the skills, life and death will be purely decided on instinct. Surviving as long as he has in Asylum City he must have plenty of that.’

  ‘Kaptu Z is stateless. Parents unknown. A police officer who gets arrested as often as he makes arrests. We can’t control him.’

  ‘He’s been taking on hard cases. Illegal dog fighting, bio-murder, the brown bear fur trade.’

  ‘He might tarnish our reputation. I mean, innocent people could easily get hurt if we set two people of this calibre against each other.’

  Renaissance glared. ‘We need to think about the welfare of the many.’

  ‘I am. The World Court has given us powers and can just as easily take away powers. We have cases involving genocide and thousands of lives that could be jeapordised.’

  ‘It is other sections in the United Nations that talk themselves out of action. Our operations in Hurt World One have saved at least one hundred species from extinction. We have stopped animal smuggling rings, inhumane captivity and illegal scientific experimentation. All that came with risks. And when I say we, I am including Kaptu Z’s achievements in his three years in Hurt World One.’

  ‘And all that time has been spent in Asylum City. It is a city that lives by a different set of rules. Those rules don’t necessarily translate well in any of the one hundred and ninety nine nations that make up this world.’

  ‘I understand your background is in politics. But remember politics is just the dust that action stirs up. I want Kaptu Z pulled out of Asylum City without delay. He has cases on his plate so threaten him with abduction if he doesn’t comply.’

  ‘Wouldn’t it just be enough to tell him he has a chance at Mas? Her name will have come up often enough in Hurt World correspondence. Is he so provisional he doesn’t even keep up with that?’

  ‘Let’s just say he has his hands full in Asylum City.’

  ‘One city when all the other Hurt World technicians have responsibility for entire continents.’

  Renaissance shrugged. ‘Asylum City is a tough place. Come to think of it, Kaptu isn’t the type of person to threaten with kidnap. Tell him we’ve booked the entire twentieth floor of the San Francisco Towers Hotel as our command centre and we’ll extend it for a whole week for his personal use once the mission is complete.’

  Pardos chuckled. ‘You’re going to blow the emergency funds on a hotel suite.’

  ‘Call in Marco McRaven for the extraction. We’re going to need the best. And that means not using the Peace Keeper Strike Force.’

  ‘He doesn’t come cheap either.’

  ‘Make the calls on the cryptic encoder. I’ll call the Leanov Veterinarian Clinic on a cold line.’

  ‘Without letting Leanov know his involvement in a trap? It’s debatable how close we’ll draw Mas anyway. She seems to enjoy firing missiles. She could do that without even getting out of bed. She might even afford herself a little smirk knowing the dog’s name is Blast.’

  ‘What do you want me to do, rename the damned dog?’

 

  6 The Meltman Express

  It was the most dangerous car in Asylum City. Just to be sitting in it meant a death sentence. And it was barely even crawling along. But the danger was not to do with speed. At least not yet. It was a red plastic and white glass bubble and looked like all the other cars on the Grid. The steering wheel hidden underneath the front window was one hint of the difference. Free cars were strictly forbidden in Asylum City. It was a decree issued by Mayor Glutter after the first assassination attempt against him. All vehicles were to run connected to the Grid, their destinations declared and set. Checkpoints and random spot checks throughout the city ensured that the law was being enforced. Transgressors dropped to almost zero when the first firing squads illustrated how serious Mayor Glutter was. With DNA scanners fitted to every vehicle, no one could move around Asylum City without Glutter having access. It also gave him a power of life over death, for any person who stopped into the Grid was at his mercy. Inexplicable high speed crashes into walls or off high bridges could be explained on computer glitches. There were many ways for Glitter to dispose of his rivals but this was one of his favourites. So clean and easy. His only regret was that he had to use it sparingly for fear of starting a panic. He wouldn’t want the whole city walking to work. Nothing would get done.

  Kaptu Z and Al Jaqaintas were the two passengers in the red bubble car. They were facing each other in wall seats, their senses attuned to all around them. The Grid was pulsating along in its usual hectic rhythms, seemingly unaware that this particular car was not actually plugged into it. An interloper. The technology was unproven in the field, and the CIA had been pushing it at Kaptu for some time, wanting him to pit it against Asylum City’s Grid. Kaptu had not rushed into accepting the offer because it came with catches. Not least of all was the presence of their agent Jaqaintas. Although he was feigning interest in the operation, Jaqaintas’s primary purpose was to ensure the stealth technology did not fall into the city’s hands. The CIA was unapologetic in reserving the right to blow up the car at the first hint of trouble. Kaptu doubted it would make much difference if he happened to be in it at the time. There was certainly no reassurance to be had in Jaqaintas’s jumpy eyes that refused to take Kaptu in even on those brief moments they were actually pointing his way.

  ‘We’re approaching the Maldives district,’ Jaqaintas murmured. ‘There’s no sunshine and beaches in those crime-ridden alleys. Unfortunately, the rising sea levels really did wash away those things for good.’

  Kaptu moved into the front seat, pulling out the steering wheel and slotting into the wall mount. ‘I’m too young to remember the Maldives’s beaches,’ he said, ‘but I grew up in its alleyways.’ He disengaged the car from the Grid and used the accelerator lever built into the steering wheel to scream throu
gh a series of turns that took the capsule off the main overpass into the narrow streets of the notorious Maldives slum. He weaved impatiently in and out of the sanitised, regulated traffic.

  Jaqaintas slid across his seat to be in his eye-line. ‘Going above standard speed puts us at risk of detection by Grid surveillance.’

  ‘I’m not breaking free of the Grid just to do the same damn things as it does,’ snapped Kaptu.

  Jaqaintas refrained from saying anything more when he saw the murderous intent in Kaptu’s eyes. Although Asylum City was located in the USA, it certainly wasn’t a part of it, so he had to assume he was on his own in a hostile foreign state. He would observe and record and if his report turned out to be an obituary then so be it.’

  After a few blocks of decrepit high-rise buildings, Kaptu made a hard turn into an underground carpark, slamming on the breaks so hard they screeched – a sound almost never heard with cars in the hands of the Grid’s state-of-the-art computers.

  ‘Stay here,’ said Kaptu as he got out. ‘I won’t be long.’

  ‘And the police might not be long either,’ said Jaqaintas. ‘I will take up a vantage point at a safe distance.’

  ‘Don’t get too safe. We might need to leave in a hurry.’ Kaptu did not take the time to explain why and would not have done so even if asked. One of the city’s most wanted fugitives was residing in the innocuous building above them and not everyone believed enough in his cause to want to get so close.

  Kaptu got into the elevator and pressed the button for the eighteenth floor. He was relieved to have left behind the CIA agent he knew almost nothing about, for it was a death elevator and its poison gases and other primitive methods of death were indiscriminate when put to use. The ascent to the eighteenth floor went without incident and the doors opened to a dark quiet corridor. Kaptu stepped out somewhat reassured, for a decision had clearly been made to at least allow him to live long enough to make it to the front door.

  The door itself was made of heavy steel and bore a green and white sign: World Society for the Protection of Animals. There was an electric hum as the lock bolt was remotely released. Kaptu stepped through and was greeted by a smiling old man.

  ‘Kaptu Z, it is always a pleasure,’ said the old man as they embraced as friends. ‘On this occasion, a dubious pleasure. If I am not mistaken that is a CIA agent that has accompanied you here and a rather illegal car that you have ridden in on.’

  The old man’s name was Noice. He had moved to Asylum City with the first Maldivian refugees and in quieter moments would talk of the days before the Maldives Islands were swamped by the ever rising sea levels. Quieter moments did not come often, however, for his thoughts remained occupied with his work and all the ways animals were being mistreated in his adopted city.

  The room was much brighter than the passageway would have suggested with large clean windows offering views across the sprawling African districts. And there were stunning artworks of all kinds on the walls and throughout the room: donations and acquisitions that could be sold when funds were required. Noice put his hand on Kaptu’s back and led him to the centre window, his favourite place to talk.

  ‘The good news is there is no indication that you have been followed here,’ he said. ‘I must assume that your business is pressing.’

  ‘I’m being pulled out of Asylum City.’

  ‘Oh. Sad news. Why?’

  ‘Have you heard of the poacher Mas?’

  ‘Yes, of course. Are you being sent after her? You’ll find her a handful.’

  ‘The World Court has given the go ahead. And I’m not sure I’ll be back.’

  ‘You have to think positively. She might not kill you.’

  ‘What are you talking about? Renaissance says if I take out Mas, I’ll probably be promoted to Hurt World Level Two.’

  ‘And if you don’t, there might not be enough pieces left of you to make it worth coming back.’

  ‘Is that your idea of positive thinking?’

  Noice shrugged.

  ‘The extraction team is already hovering about the city,’ said Kaptu, ‘but there is something I want to get done first.’

  Noice folded his arms and looked at him attentively. ‘What do you have in mind?’

  ‘Do you still want the Meltman’s black bear?’

  ‘You know I’ve wanted that poor thing for years.’

  ‘Have you got somewhere to put it? And I mean right now.’

  ‘I’ve got a home ready to go. But it would be wrong of me not to try talking you out of a rescue.’

  ‘You’ve never tried to talk me out of anything before.’

  ‘Let me put it like this. First you are going to take on Meltman and his army. In that it is likely you are going to get at least a little bit hurt. A little bit or a lot. And then you are going to rush off and take on Mas, who is not an army, but certainly very talented when it comes to either maiming or killing people. It is too much to expect to survive.’

  ‘I’m sorry you feel that way ‘cause I want you to come along. I don’t know anything about black bears. Least of all where to take one.’

  Noice frowned warily. ‘Alright, I’ll come along to give directions. I also know the way to the best hospital for snake monkey bites - some of the world’s leading researchers are based right here in Asylum City. When you make your move on the Meltman Express, you might find some comfort in knowing that. Of course, you might not if you knew the reason the researchers are based here is because of the ready supply of victims they have access to. Nice, juicy bites that have all its poison’s horrendous symptoms on full display.’

  Kaptu shrugged. ‘I’ve been bitten by worse.’

  There was a flash of fire in Noice’s eyes. ‘I hope you’re not referring to my daughter.’

  Kaptu looked around the apartment for any trace of her. There was nothing. Perhaps, that was why the room seemed drab to him despite all its paraphernalia. Kaptu had heard she had married and moved to the Mali sector. He tried not to think about her. Kaptu patted Noice on the shoulder. ‘Come on, let’s go get you a bear to cuddle.’