45 – Free

  “Ah! You ass paste!” Beef howled, and Addie hurried toward the sound. Her sneaker slipped on the drywall dust, and she almost stumbled into a wall—this one concrete—but she caught herself, her palm pressing against the cold, hard surface.

  “Calm down, Addie,” she whispered, gathering her thoughts. Just because she recognized Beef’s voice didn’t mean she should go running toward him. What if he was there for a gang war or—no, she knew that wasn’t the case. The Helldogs wouldn’t start a war with the Dead Boys. Their borders weren’t even close. He was there for her; nothing else made sense. She peered down the corridor, away from where she’d heard him, and saw nothing but a long stretch of dark, concrete hallway. Gritting her teeth, she padded quietly in the other direction.

  There was a corner up ahead, and though her hallway wasn’t illuminated, she saw plenty of light coming from around that corner. She could still hear Beef grunting and cursing, so she hurried despite trying to be quiet. As she approached the corner, she heard another voice—Zane’s. “You big, dumb buffoon. That woman was my contact. She owes me a mountain of bits! Did you kill her team, too, or were those shots your idiot banger buddies getting their chips cashed in? You understand I’m going to take some frustration out on you either way, yes?”

  “F-fuck you!” Beef screamed, and Addie could tell he was straining to speak, either in agony or restrained somehow. She peered around the corner, and her mind grappled with what she saw, struggling to make sense of the chaotic scene.

  A large rectangular room opened beyond a short stretch of corridor. Four old, battered aluminum tables with built-in benches sat in the center of the space, and across from Addie, some ancient, empty, and cracked vending machines were clustered near another exit. Hovering in the air, spinning slowly like a kite caught in an updraft, drifting in slow loops, was Beef, his face a mask of pain and disorientation.

  His shaved head and cheeks were so red they bordered on purple, and his eyes bulged, bloodshot. Was he sick from the motion or… No, Addie realized, his left leg was twisting like a rag being wrung out. As she watched, it popped, and a cold sweat broke out on her forehead when she realized it was his hip coming out of the socket. Beef nearly wept as he gasped a string of colorful expletives.

  Addie looked away, focusing on the air, bright with Glittering Dust. She stepped forward and realized she could just see an arm extended in front of the corridor opening—Zane’s manicured nails and designer suit sleeve. He stood out of sight to the right of the opening, but she could hear his low chuckle as he tortured Beef. She crept closer.

  “I actually liked her, you know? Her name was Leticia. I was thinking about taking things to the next level when this job was over.”

  “Ungh!” Beef groaned.

  Addie was only a few steps from the opening now and saw a broader view of the room. A woman’s body was sprawled near one of the broken vending machines. Her arms were stretched outward like she’d been trying to crawl, and there was a broad trail of blood behind her leading to the other exit. Addie felt her stomach lurch, and she had to stifle a gag when she saw a dismembered leg lying there.

  What was she going to do? How could she stop Zane? If he could lift Beef up and twist his mighty limbs apart, what could she do? If he wasn’t looking… If he was too caught up in making Beef pay… Could she do anything? Could she hit him hard enough to—Addie caught her breath when her eyes fell on a pistol at the center of the room. It was small and shiny, like chrome. Had the woman dropped it when Beef took her leg off? Could Addie run for it? Could she grab it and shoot Zane before he could react? Did she even know if it would work? Didn’t Tony say you had to do something first to make a gun ready?

  Her racing thoughts were cut short when she felt something. A warm tickle on the skin of her arms raised the fine hairs in goosebumps. The Dust? Addie stretched an arm out, her fingers splayed, not unlike Zane’s arm a few paces away. Sure enough, she could feel the little tickles all over her palm. It was warm and bright, and images ran through her mind at the Dust’s tingling touch—melting sugar, warm sunlight, cherry lip gloss, warm fingers entwined with hers, pop music, and whispered promises.

  Addie lost herself in the images and probably would have stayed that way if not for the sound of Beef crashing to the ground. He fell with a thud and a grunt of agony. His shoulder hit one of the aluminum tables, sending it clattering over the concrete floor, and then Zane exclaimed, “What in the hell?”

  Addie rapidly blinked her eyes, refocusing on reality, just in time to see Zane step in front of the corridor opening. He was scowling, but his anger turned to amusement when he saw her standing there, dazed. “You silly little bitch! You don’t even know what you did, do you? Don’t get a big head. If I’d known you were there, I wouldn’t have let you disrupt my pattern.” He reached inside his tailored suit jacket and pulled out a slender, black pistol, its barrel narrow like a pen. “Sit down, now, or I’ll have to shoo—”

  “Ungh!” Beef grunted, and then an enormous blade sprouted from Zane’s chest. “Shut up!” Beef roared as Zane’s eyes flew wide. His mouth worked open and closed several times as his tongue writhed, trying to do something that his mind commanded but failing. He reached for the broad, bloody blade and, just as his fingers gently tapped the sides, as though exploring a suspicious lump, he fell to his knees, and a slow, gasping, gargling whine trickled out of his throat.

  Addie looked past the dying corpo to see Beef lying on his back, chest heaving up and down, gasping in agony. “Take…” He groaned, his voice cracking into a near wail, then grunted, “Take his chip.”

  Addie was still trying to wrap her head around what had happened, but his words snapped her out of it, and she nodded, “Right.” Zane was a Boxer agent. He probably had dead-man protocols. He was still on his knees, still fumbling at Beef’s enormous cleaver blade, his eyes blank, his mouth working open and closed as he struggled to speak or breathe—Addie couldn’t guess. She pushed past him, not wanting to look into those dying eyes, and used her thumbnail to peel back the flap of synth-skin that covered his high-end data port. His PAI chip sat there, gold-plated and glittering in the harsh, white lighting.

  Addie dug her nails under it, and then Zane’s twitching hand found her leg and gripped her thigh like a drowning swimmer reaching for a lifeline. If she pulled his chip now, he was going to die. His wound was terrible, but there was a chance. What if he had medical nanites? What if he had a trauma protocol? He could be dead for a while and still be revived by the right team. Yank his PAI while he was bleeding out, though? He’d be a goner.

  “Do it!” Beef gasped.

  Addie pulled. The chip clicked out of the socket, and with a soft squelch, the long synthetic nerve fibers came along with it. Zane convulsed, vibrating with a seizure, his fingers painfully digging into Addie’s leg. It only lasted a couple of seconds before he collapsed. Addie gripped both sides of the wafer-thin chip and, with a grunt of effort, snapped it in half. Then, she ran to Beef.

  “Ah, rat-king’s balls, Ads, he ruined me,” he cried, gasping. “Get my gun. Get her gun. Get any rotten gun and put a bullet in my head!”

  “Addie!” A new voice exclaimed, and she looked up to see Tony standing in the other corridor. He held a stubby black gun with both hands, and his jacket was soaked with blood. He was soaked with blood; his face looked like he’d run through a blood sprinkler. “You-—” He ran toward her, limping, leaning to the left like a train struggling to stay on the tracks. “Are you good?” he asked as he came up beside her and looked down at Beef’s bloody, twisted form. “Jesus, man.”

  “Fucking put me out of it, man,” Beef groaned.

  “Nah.” Tony fished something out of his pocket. “Suck on this.” He put a red plastic inhaler between Beef’s thick, bloody lips and pressed a button. Addie swore she saw Beef’s eyes light up as he inhaled.

  “Ah, shit! That’s good stuff!” he gasped, slapping a meaty palm to his forehead.

  “Right?” Tony looked around, scanning the bodies, and then walked over to the dead woman and yanked her PAI. “Any more around, you think?”

  “Dunno. Ads got the corpo’s chip before he checked out. I think we might be clear.”

  Tony looked at Addie, and when she took in that weary expression of relief, she felt tears spring into her eyes. He’d come for her. They’d come for her. “Are—are you okay?” She tentatively held out a hand, and Tony snatched it with his.

  This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

  “I’m great. What about you? Did they hurt you?” His fingers pressed into her palm gently, and Addie found herself wishing he’d just grab her and hold her. She wanted to close her eyes and remember the feeling the Dust had given her, only this time with his arms around her. She wanted—

  “I think she took a hit to the head,” Beef grunted, pushing his bulk up to a sitting position with one piston-like arm—the other one hung limply, bent in the wrong direction at the elbow.

  “I’m okay.” Addie felt her cheeks getting hot as she rapidly blinked her eyes and looked away from Tony. “I’m okay, guys. We have to get Beef to a doctor!”

  “Hah. I’m done, sis. This leg ain’t doing squat, and you two can’t carry my big ass. Go on, get outta here. Gimme my cannon, T. It’s over by that dead lady under the table. I’ll take some scrubs out with me.”

  “Nah,” Tony said again, giving Addie’s hand a final squeeze before letting it drop. “We’re in a hospital, big boy. I’ll find you some wheels.” He looked at Addie and raised the eyebrow over his silver eye. “Can you stomach going over these bodies? Look for decks, chips, cards, hell, anything that might be useful or valuable. Most of all, look for anything that might be transmitting a signal. If we aren’t blown yet, we might as well try to stay dark.”

  Addie swallowed, nodding rapidly. “Yeah. Yeah, I can do that.”

  Tony gestured toward the corridor she’d come from. “What’s down there?”

  “Um—” When Addie looked, her eyes fell on Zane’s corpse, and a wave of nausea washed over her. She leaned against one of the tables and licked her lips, trying to get a grip. “—the room they were holding me in, and a long, dark hallway. I don’t know what’s down there.”

  “T, get my blade. I don’t want Ads to have to.”

  Tony nodded and walked over to Zane’s body. Addie looked away, then knelt beside Beef, distracting herself. She put a hand on his sweat-drenched forehead. It felt like a pouch of steamed veggies. “You’re burning up, Beef.”

  “R-Randal,” he said, coughing softly. “I like it when you call me Randal.”

  Addie’s eyes filled with tears, and this time, they streamed out as she immediately pictured Beef as a little boy—her little protector. No, he’d never been little. Weeping openly, she caressed his big, hot, sweaty cheeks and said, “You idiot, why’d you say that? You take it back!” She didn’t have to explain herself to him. He knew what she meant; he wouldn’t ask her to call him Randal if he thought he was going to live.

  “Hey, doll,” he coughed, inhaling raggedly. “I’ll be fine. Go on, get my gun for me, will you?”

  Addie stood up to find Beef’s big cleaver-style knife sitting on the table beside her. Tony was gone. Still sobbing, she stumbled over to the vending machines and the woman’s corpse. She immediately saw the enormous pistol that had to be Beef’s “cannon.” She scooped it up, careful to keep her fingers away from the trigger guard, and brought it over to the table where Tony had set Beef’s knife. “I got it, Randal. It’s right here.”

  “Lemme hold it, doll.” He was leaning against the opposite table’s bench with his ruined leg stretched out straight; his other leg was bent at the knee, propping him up.

  “No. I’ll give it to you when we’re on our way out. You’re too drugged up and—” She shook her head, choking off another sob. “Just no.” She walked over to the woman’s corpse. She was wearing khaki pants and a sleek, synthetic long-sleeved shirt. Addie tried to turn off her brain as she knelt beside the body, avoiding the pool of blood near her truncated leg. She searched her pockets and found a slender data deck. “Oh!” she yelped, immediately holding the power tab down until a tiny green LED flickered twice and then went out.

  “What is it?” Beef asked, watching her through bloodshot eyes.

  “I’ll tell you if you promise to hold on.”

  “Ads, the walls are closing in. I’m trying,” he wheezed.

  “It’s a deck. I turned it—” Footsteps pounding interrupted her, and Addie scrambled for the woman’s chrome-plated pistol. She grabbed it and looked up in time to see Tony burst into the room. He clutched a small red pouch but held it like a trophy as he charged toward Beef.

  “I got what you need right here, big guy. The good shit.” Addie jumped up and ran over, watching Tony rip the pack open and take out three objects: two more inhalers and an auto-injector.

  “You’re probably bleeding inside. This will slow it down or stop it.” He flipped the cap off the injector, pressed it to Beef’s twisted, swollen leg, and pressed the button. As it hissed and Beef groaned, Tony stood and handed Addie the two inhalers. “If he dips out, hit him with one of these. Probably not good for him, but it's better than dying.”

  “Okay.” Addie nodded, tearing up again as she tucked them into her two front pockets.

  “I know where a couple of rooms full of equipment are. I’ll be back in a minute with something we can roll him on.” Tony locked his eyes on hers for a second, then nodded and turned to run away, already looking far steadier than he had when he’d arrived.

  “That corpo bastard’s tough, you know?” Beef said, his words slurred.

  “So are you, Randal. Hang on!” She held up the little chrome pistol. “Do I need to do anything to make this work?” She wanted to know, but she also wanted to distract Beef.

  He peered at it with bleary eyes and nodded. “Touch the pairing button on the top of the slide, near the back. Your PAI should be able to tell you if it’s ready.”

  Addie did so, holding the little button until an icon appeared on her AUI, and JJ asked, “Shall I pair with the pistol?”

  “Yes.” An amber-targeting reticle appeared on her AUI along with what Addie assumed was an ammo counter: 45/45.

  “I’ve installed the management software for the Yoshida Slim 99-A flechette pistol.”

  “Is it ready?”

  “It appears to be functional. It has a PAI-compatible safety, meaning I can keep it from firing unless you point it at something and squeeze the trigger.”

  Addie didn’t really trust JJ’s ability to discern when she wanted to shoot or not, but she shrugged and stuffed the pistol into her waistband. She went back to the woman’s body and searched her other pockets but came up empty. Grimacing, dreading what came next, she turned toward Zane's body. “Talk to me, Randal.”

  “Ungh.”

  “Not good enough!” Addie walked over to the body, grateful to see that Tony had left him face down, and pulled the back of his suit jacket over his head. She could almost pretend he wasn’t Zane. She could almost imagine he wasn’t even a person—just a dummy with pockets she needed to search. “Please, Beef, I don’t like touching these dead people. Distract me!”

  “Uh—” He coughed. “—did you like that barbecue place?”

  Addie knelt and patted Zane’s pocket on the right side. Something was in there, hard and rectangular. “I thought it was amazing! Some of the best food I’ve ever had.” She slipped her fingers into the pocket and pulled the object out. It was a data stick. “JJ, any signal coming off this thing?”

  “Not that I can detect.”

  “Beef? Are you there? Hey, can we get lunch again sometime?”

  “H-hey,” he wheezed, “call me Randal, Ads.”

  “Stop that!” she yelled, patting Zane’s other pocket. Empty. She wanted to give up then and there, but she could see the slit of an inner pocket in the silk lining of his jacket. Wincing, she slid her hand into it. Her fingers closed around a tiny cylinder about the size of her pinky. When she pulled it out, she gasped at the unexpected beauty; it was full of glittering Dust. She doubted it was the rich, refined Dust he showed off to her on their dinner “date,” but it was definitely cleaner than the Dust in the Blast.

  She stood, then stooped to pick up Zane’s pistol and deposited it beside Beef’s gun. The Dust, she slipped into her pocket beside one of the inhalers. “Well?” She asked, nudging Beef’s uninjured foot with hers.

  “Well?” he asked, looking at her with glassy eyes.

  “Can we get lunch again?”

  To her relief or dismay—she didn’t know how to feel—he smiled and nodded. “Sure, doll.”

  Before she could answer, Addie heard Tony coming; she hoped it was him, at least, as she drew the little flechette pistol and held it ready. Sure enough, it was him, and he was pushing a surprisingly intact-looking wheelchair, the seat of which was stacked with guns and something that looked like an armored vest. They had to coax Beef with another “Synapse-9” inhaler, but then Tony was able to help hoist him up into the chair. “Jesus,” he grunted. “I’m gonna need spinal surgery.”

  Addie, arms laden down with their scavenged gear, guns, and knives, followed Tony as he wheeled Beef down the hallway. She didn’t dare ask how he would get him up to the ground floor. They came to an intersection that looked like it had been the scene of a horrific battle—blood smears, blackened, chipped cement, and concrete dust. Addie didn’t see any dead bodies, though. Tony turned right and clapped Beef’s solid shoulder. “Good news, big boy.”

  “Huh?” Beef grunted.

  “I found a garage exit down here, which means I don’t have to drag your giant ass up the steps.” He winked at Addie, and she couldn’t help smiling despite the horror of their situation. They walked down a long, dark hallway to an area with flickering light fixtures and a big black duffel atop an old nurses’ station. “I went through that already. It’s full of miscellaneous gear—flares, zip-rations, shrink-cords. Throw that stuff you're carrying in it and take the whole thing.”

  Addie nodded and stuffed the guns and vest into the duffel, then she zipped it up and, with a grunt, heaved the straps over her shoulder. Tony nodded and started off around the corner. She followed as he picked up speed, and after one more turn, she saw the doors to the exit.

  “Thank God,” she sighed, and Tony nodded.

  “Yeah. Breathe easy—we’re almost out. You think Doc Peters can take him?”

  “Of course! I’ll message him.”

  Tony squeezed Beef’s shoulder. “Hear that, buddy? You’re almost outta the woods. I already called a cab. We just need to wheel your ass out past the garage bollards.”

  “Thought—” Beef cleared his throat and spat to the side. “—you said they had a van.”

  “Yeah, but it’s not parked here, remember. Your boys tracked ‘em from that other garage.”

  Beef chuckled, clearly high from the stims, and nodded, tapping his head. “Smart.”

  “Thank you,” Addie said hastily, imagining how the two of them had tracked her down. “Thank you both for coming for me.”

  “I owed you,” Tony said, and Addie couldn’t tell if he was being flippant. Beef just chuckled softly.

  She took a breath and tried to gather her words; she wanted to make them see how serious she was, how much she really, truly appreciated them, but then Tony turned Beef’s chair and backed out the door to the garage, and the moment was gone. She’d have to find another moment—one with each of them. In the garage, in the “fresh” air of the Blast, she felt the specter of what she’d done, and what had been done to her, fall away a little, and she breathed easier. She followed Tony up the ramp to the lights of the waiting Fast Cab.

  She couldn’t put her feelings into words just then, but she’d almost lost her freedom, and she didn’t think she’d even realized she had it to lose. She’d always believed the line about how awful the Blast was, how awful everyone’s lot in life was. Maybe it wasn’t the best place in the world. Maybe it was down there near the bottom, but she wasn’t owned by a corp. She was free to do what she wanted, with whomever she wanted, and that meant something. She intended to do whatever it took to make sure she stayed that way.