Under the Twinkle of a Fading Star

by Jon Adcock

Table of Contents

Table of Contents
parts 1, 2, 3

conclusion

I un-ghosted, and Sloan rushed me. I ducked under his wild swing, hit him in a kidney, and followed it up with a straight right to the chin. He staggered, and an open-handed thrust to the chest slammed him back into the wall. Toni leaped on my back, and I dragged her off and dropped her on the ground.

“Toni, it’s OK. I’m here to help. Your father sent me,” I said as she scooted backward until she was up against the far wall.

“My father?” I wouldn’t have thought so much anguish could be poured into such a small word.

“Her father is the one she needs saving from,” Sloan said as he wiped at the blood that trickled down his chin.

“I’m not going back.” She pulled a knife from her coveralls and held it to her throat.

“Toni—” Sloan started to say.

“I’m not going back, Jeremy. He’s never going to touch me again.”

Slowly, I walked toward her and held out my hand. “I thought you were in danger, Toni. I promise you won’t have to go back. Give me the knife. I only want to help you.”

“I’m not going back,” she said, wracked by sobs. “I’d rather die.”

“I had a daughter, Toni.” I crouched until I was at eye level with her. “I’ll make the same promise to you I would’ve made to her. Whatever it takes, whatever I need to do, I’ll protect you. Now give me the knife, and let’s talk.” She hesitated and then handed the knife to me. I looked over at Sloan and asked, “You OK?”

“I’ve been hit harder,” he said with teenage bravado.

“No, you haven’t.” I straddled the chair and motioned for the two of them to sit on the edge of the bed. “So, what was the plan? She runs away and spends the rest of her life in this dump?”

“Jeremy has family in one of the farming communities. We’re going there.” Toni wiped her eyes with her right hand. Sloan’s fingers were entwined with her left.

“You’ll need a fake identity chip,” I said. “And both of you need travel papers.”

“Those can be bought on the black market,” Sloan said.

“Yeah, they can, but I’ve seen where you live and what you ride; you don’t have the credits. By the way, what’s with this place? Bars on the windows and a front door like a bank vault? How’d you find it?”

“I know people in the Movement. This is one of their safe houses. So, what? You thought I was some Townie perv keeping her captive?”

“The thought crossed my mind, son.”

“You suck at judging people,” he said and, after an angry silence, asked, “How’d you find us?”

“The scrambler. Get that from your friends?”

“Yeah, I use it whenever I go to see Toni.”

“A little advice. Never act like you have something to hide.”

* * *

It took some convincing, but I got Toni to come with me and stay at my place while I figured out what to do. We rode through deserted streets, Toni perched on the back of my bike with Sloan following behind on his scooter.

Once back home, I rooted through the cupboards and found enough miscellaneous foodstuffs to make us something to eat. As we ate, Toni haltingly told me about the ugliness behind the façade of a seemingly normal family. Afterward, I gave her the upstairs bedroom and let Sloan crash on the couch. I grabbed my book and a bottle and went upstairs to read in the office.

After reading the same page three times, I put the book down. It was 2:00 a.m., time for a reality check. I didn’t know what to do with her now that I had her. Even if I helped, there weren’t enough credits to get her out of the city safely. There were people out there far more dangerous than Len. Eventually, they’d sniff around if Samuel dangled that reward long enough.

Of course, there was another option. I could have Security here in twenty minutes. Toni’s father, Samuel, would be in my debt, and I’d have a fattened bank account as a reward. It wouldn’t even be the worst thing I’ve done. Over the years, the shades of grey I was comfortable with had gotten darker and darker. In that time, I’d probably forged a length of chain to rival the one Marley’s ghost had dragged around. What was another link added to it? The first rule of Old Town was: “Take care of yourself.” Maybe it was time to follow that rule again. Eventually, trying to be Don Quixote would get me killed.

I refilled my glass and went down the hall to Toni’s room. The door was slightly ajar. I pushed it open, stood in the doorway, and watched her sleep. I could make the call, have a nice payday, and earn the gratitude of someone powerful. Someone who was also a dangerous man to cross. Or I could risk everything, with no reward other than to be able to like the person I would see in the mirror. I drained my glass, stepped out of the room, and softly closed the bedroom door. Like I told Len, doing stupid things was one of my personality traits. Bring on the windmills.

* * *

The next night, I was on the road to Grubville. In the distance, like paint spilling across the canvas of the night sky, storm clouds roiled and advanced. Due to the curfew, the road was empty, so I left the headlights off and opened the bike up. The darkness flowed over and around me as I rushed through the night with only my thoughts as a companion.

Eventually, high-pitched whines told me I wasn’t alone anymore. I was flanked on either side by one of the sentry drones, and a third dropped in front of me. Four feet long and resembling mutant mosquitos, the drones were let loose at nightfall like the flying monkeys from The Wizard of Oz.

From dusk to dawn, the area between the city limits and Grubville was a kill zone for anyone without authorization. My ID chip was pinged, and I tried to relax as the seconds ticked. My security certificates were valid, but the drones were Pre-Burn, and their AI tended to be cranky. Finally, with a sound almost like disappointment, the drones sped off to look for other prey.

Ahead, glowing like the proverbial shining city on a hill, was Grubville. It took an extensive support structure to keep an entire city under your boot heel, and the hillsides were spotted with buildings that kept that boot pressing down. Floodlights throughout the compound held the night at bay, and the darkness paced at the edges of light and waited.

I turned onto the road that wound up the hill. There were a few workers still about, but they ignored me. The drones would have left me smeared on the highway if I didn’t belong there. On the right, I passed the sprawling Security compound where I used to work. I had quit in a crisis of conscience a couple of years before. Toni’s father, Samuel, had pulled some strings and ensured my access, and security credentials were kept valid and up to date. I owed him. Near the top of the hill was the north entrance to Grubville.

There was a remnant of an old public parking lot nearby. Its asphalt was sun-bleached to a sickly grey, with knee-high weeds thrusting up through the heavily eroded spots. I left the bike there. The heavy blast doors to Grubville reached up to the sky, a monument to avarice and selfishness. I walked between them and entered the wide corridor that led to the elevators.

The echoes of my footsteps mingled with the sound of faint growls that came from ahead. A trio of recombinants was on guard at the security screening station just before the elevators. Their human handlers were nowhere in sight. During the day, dozens of guards screened the Townie laborers, but only a skeleton crew was assigned this late at night.

Tall, stocky, and densely furred, the recoms opened their muzzles and smiled their toothy grins. Their growls grew louder the closer I came. My chip had been pinged, and my clearance was known. They must have been bored and wanted a little fun at my expense. The sniffers that worked security with the guards mewled and swarmed around my feet. I did my best to ignore them as they pawed at me and shoved huge noses into places they shouldn’t go. For them, I was probably an exciting novelty after a long day of searching the Townie laborers for contraband and explosives.

Finally, one of the guards barked a command and cuffed the more inquisitive ones who were slow to heel.

“Pass!” the largest recom stepped forward and held out his hand, his claws fully extended for a little extra intimidation.

“You know I don’t need one. Gonna let me by, or will we have a problem?”

His grin grew more expansive, but there was no humor in it. His teeth were long and sharp, and he did his best to let me see them in all their glory. The skin around his obedience collar was chafed and raw. We stood there in a stare-down for a few moments before he reluctantly stepped aside and let me pass.

As the elevator door closed, I glanced back and made eye contact with the guard. His muzzle wrinkled in one last snarl, and I blew a kiss. To be honest, I did sympathize. If I were a slave, I wouldn’t pass up the chance for a bit of payback on one of the slavers.

I took the elevator down to the park level. The artificial sun was dimmed, and only a few indentured workers were in the park. They were busy emptying trash cans and cleaning the public restrooms. I sat on a bench in the playground reserved for resident workers. I nodded to an indentured who was picking up litter around the bench. He was collared but, unlike my friends upstairs, his collar would eventually come off.

Except for the steady hum of the ventilation system, it was quiet and peaceful. It had been over a year since I’d last been here, and I’d forgotten what it was like to breathe air that didn’t taste foul. When I lived here, I would visit the park on Sunday afternoons and watch the kids play. Pre-Burn, I used to bring Amy to parks like this when I was home between deployments. When she played, her laughter would brush lightly across my heart like the breath of love.

Samuel entered the park, and I got up to greet him. “Thanks for meeting me here.” I shook his hand. Samuel was short, fat, and white. He personified why “grub” was an epithet for those who lived here.

“You were mysterious in your message. Did you find out something about Toni?”

“Yeah, I wanted to talk to you in person. She’s not in the city. She wasn’t kidnapped; she ran away. The best I could get was that she met people in the Movement, and they smuggled her out. Probably to one of the coastal communities.”

“How long ago did this happen?” His face was flushed crimson, and his voice was tight. I’d known him long enough to tell he was seething with anger.

“Just a few days after she vanished. Any idea why she’d run away?”

“Why? Because she’s a teenager and a spoiled brat who doesn’t appreciate what she has and what I do for her.”

“She’s out of reach, Samuel. I wish I could have done more to help.”

“She’s not out of my reach. I’ll find her and drag her back if I need to. I want names, Jackson. Anyone who helped her or even might have helped her. They’ll be lucky if the collar is the only thing they get.” They say the eyes are windows to the soul. The curtains parted slightly, and I saw something ugly and possessive.

“I’m sorry I didn’t have better news.” I pulled off my gloves. “You’ve been a good friend, Samuel. I appreciate everything you’ve done over the years.”

“Your old job is still there if you want it. You’re, what, riding shotgun on trade caravans these days? What a waste.”

“Yeah, but at least I can sleep at night. I’ll send you that list of names in the morning.’ I shook his hand. As he turned to go, I added, “I kept one of my promises to you. Someone hurt Toni, and I’ve made sure he paid for it.”

“Good.”

I sat back on the bench as he walked away. Always have a Plan B. The old scrounger, Lucius, was as good as his reputation. If it was out there, he could get it, and what he got for me was a nasty little variant of the old Novichok nerve agent. Absorbed through the skin, it attacks the circulatory system and causes heart failure in a few hours. I pulled my gloves back on. Syntha-Flesh had its advantages.

By now, the artificial sun wasn’t much brighter than a full moon. I turned just enough to watch Samuel leave. I’m not sure why I did that. Maybe I half-expected to glimpse what was in store for him. Perhaps a shadow, darker than the rest, stalking him through the trees. Or a flash of artificial light reflected off a sharpened scythe poised to harvest another soul. There was nothing. Just a man who didn’t know he was already dead, walking home to his bed and oblivion.

* * *

I sat for a long time before finally taking the elevator back up. A man and a woman were at security screening with the recom guards. The handlers were disheveled enough that I could guess what they had been doing earlier. The guards behaved themselves on the way out.

The rain started just before I hit the city limits. It was a few drops at first and then became something that would have encouraged Noah to build that ark. I rode through flooding streets, stung by a cold, lashing rain that seemed sent to purify the world.

A few miles from home, I stopped at a bar owned by a friend. Trash, dead rats, and empty Bliss vials swirled in a nearby gutter until they disappeared down a storm drain. I pulled off my gloves, dropped them into the gutter, and raised my face and hands to the turbulent, storm-wracked sky. One of the Psalms seemed appropriate: Wash me clean from my guilt. Purify me from my sin.

William was behind the bar when I walked in. He was thin and wiry, with skin that was dark and glistening. He had been my boss on the caravan runs and was still one of my favorite people. The only other person in the bar was a passed-out drunk at one of the corner tables.

“Slow night, Boss?” I asked.

“Most people have more sense than to come out on a night like this.” He tossed me some clean bar towels to dry myself off.

“What can I say? I miss your company. And I need a drink.”

“You need a drink? What happened to all the bottles I sold you a couple of weeks ago?” he asked as I sat at the bar.

“Guess I drank them.”

“As a business owner, I appreciate all the credits you’ve given me. As your friend, Jackson, what the hell?”

“Yeah, I know. I was doing one of my side jobs, and I guess it dredged some stuff up. I’m off the booze tomorrow. For tonight, though, open a bottle and get two glasses.”

“So, what’re we drinking to?” William asked as he poured a generous amount into both glasses.

“The dead.”

“Don’t think I have enough bottles for that.”

“I guess the one will have to do.”