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maybe i should include the post



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back after long absence:



	

"When your alone, you take me higher and higher"
 		-Paul Oakie







      5

  When I finally felt grass under me again, stationary and 
slightly damp, I recognized the pure bone tiredness I had not felt in 
since leaving behind Lanz Island and its rat infested bowels. My 
cyc, my incredible red machine that had become more a part of me 
than legs was gone. Zig still had the Kawasaki Ninja he had stolen, 
and he would probably lend it to me if he hadn't already sold it. 
But for now I was stuck, a truant pedestrian in a city under such 
internal struggle that not a single cop could be spared to witness 
and shut down the greatest motorcycle race in the Turbine's 
history.

  It was damn quiet and for a while I just lay on my back, 
unsure if it was smoke or fog that made the stars seem to blend 
together. I wondered where one brown-eyed girl was right at that 
moment. Either locked in one of the Apothecary's thousands of 
concrete rooms or maybe asleep in a Lanz Island hotel. Or she had 
left the Island and was coolly traveling the same city roads to find 
me. We would meet where luck conceived. 

  Sitting up and brushing off my pants, I looked around and 
saw the lower west side of my city, in the back yard of a solitary 
house surrounded by taller buildings. It was peacefully quiet and I 
imagined that the residents were too afraid of the police to care 
exactly who was trespassing. Navigating around the small forest of 
plastic lawn-ornaments, I found the wooden gate around the 
house's left side. It was locked by a deadbolt so I had no choice but 
to vault the seven foot fence. Landing lightly on my feet I jogged 
fifteen yards to the street and began walking down the darkened 
sidewalk.

  After three more unfamiliar blocks I realized I was 
completely lost. I had not spent much time in this part of the city 
where the horizon was mostly blotted out by the chimneys of huge 
manufacturing plants. The air itself was thick with a burned off 
contaminant not unlike that which had blanketed Capitol Plaza 
earlier. I pulled my jacket tighter to deaden the cold wind but 
winced as I felt the collar brush the back of my neck. Chris' .22 
had left a solid welt.

  Turning a corner and starting to head east, I saw head lights 
approach and I ran behind a parked van. A few seconds later a 
police car flew by with its lights and sirens wailing. I waited until 
it was well past and then continued walking. Before I got to the 
next street over, three more cruisers passed me, and I hid each 
time. By the time I got to Turner Ave. which I seemed to 
remember more clearly, I spotted a public-use screen outside 
another bank and ran up to it.

  CLEARLY STATE YOUR DESTINATION,  it said to me 
after I touched the glass.

  "Request map-file directions to-" But I was cut off by a 
shout from behind. I lowered my hand and slowly turned my head. 

  A spot light shone directly in my face and I had to squint.

  "Fuck," I muttered. "More of them."

  But then the light blinked out and I saw a man in red and 
black climb off a BMW Bandit. "Rick? Are you Rick?" he said. 

  From behind me the screen repeated, CLEARLY STATE YOUR 
DESTINATION, PLEASE. 

  I raised my eyebrows. Not very many people knew me by 
that name yet, and certainly not the cops. "Yeah, I'm Rick."

  The man walked toward me and I saw he had a small box 
in his hand with a long antenna. "Good, I've been looking for you. 
It's me."

  "Who?"

  "Me! Stitch!" He saw me reach into my jacket but said, 
"No, no. I'm not gonna to kill you. And don't lie, I know you don't 
have any guns. This bad boy is a metal detector too."

  He looked revved up and was talking somewhat excitedly. I 
let my hand fall to my side and frowned. "How did you find me?"

  "You're still bugged, remember? Chris left this lying 
around and I thought I'd track you down with it. But I'm not here 
for a fight. To tell you the truth, I need help."

  "What for?"

  He reached into his front right jean pocket and pulled out a 
pill. "First, take this," he said. "It'll dissolve the transmitter in your 
skull. Then you won't have to worry about some fed picking up on 
your frequency and sending a homing missile after your ass. Here."
I didn't reach out. "I don't think so."

  "Relax, big guy. If I wanted you dead, I'd shoot you." He 
showed me his weapon. "Yes, it's loaded. So take the damn pill 
already."

  I took it from him but didn't put it in my mouth yet. "Then 
what do you want?"

  Stitch looked over both shoulders and then back at me 
when he was satisfied. A cold wind cut through the deserted street. 
"You're not the only one with an alias. My name isn't really Stitch. 
It's Jules Harvard, and I'm an officer of the Special Forces." I 
stared at him. "Ex-Shock," he added.

  The directory screen asked for my destination again, and I 
told it to shut the fuck up. Then to Jules, "You shouldn't have told 
me that. I never, but never, deal with pigs."

  He looked a little put off and said, "I'll let that go because I 
know you have your reasons. But you should hear me out. If I had 
more time I'd take you somewhere less open to discuss this, but I 
fucking don't.

  "I've been in deep for the last seven months without any 
contact to my superiors. It was the Commissioner himself who 
planned the operation and all of our work came to a head two 
nights ago when Das Uberdog attacked City Hall. Ironically, in just 
the short time I had been involved, Chris had taken a liking to me 
and put me in charge of the quarter-mastering. Maybe you'll like 
this and maybe you won't, but I was forced in several occasions to 
kill other police officers in order to maintain my cover. It was... 
unreal. It changed me. To me, and to my government this behavior 
was unacceptable, hypocritically so, since they gave the orders 
themselves. But I obeyed, and I don't have to remind you how 
much Chris needed to be stopped. Nevertheless, Arkoff was forced 
to condemn my actions to the Mandate for public relations 
purposes, and now I can't go back."

  I was surprised but said nothing.

  "I realize that I was picked because of my dedication to this 
city and I intend to live up to that honor even if no one will ever 
know. It makes me feel right about what I did, and those feelings 
are what make me tick. It was me who blew the whistle on 
Eichenger Industries last week, though I was not told Shock 
Troops were to be involved." He paused. "Believe me, I regretted 
the losses Das endured just as deeply as if they had been my own 
kin. I had vowed that if it was at all possible, I would spare every 
one of them I could after blowing their operation. And then I failed 
in this too, but I have not given up.
  
  "Nine Mandate Directors have been murdered and another 
sixteen, not including the Cardinal Doge were taken hostage. Ghast 
has come back from the Island and is keeping them in his custody 
at the old stadium. I have tried, but I cannot find any way to rescue 
them. This is the only opening for me to return to my job, to regain 
my honor. Don't get me wrong, I'm no real fan of the Mandate, but 
I like anarchy and mob rule even less. If the missing Directors are 
returned within two or three days, the state of martial law will be 
lifted as will the curfew. The Mandate does not expect the coup to 
last more than a few more days. And I think you can appreciate 
that as well."

  I shook my head. "If you think I'm going to help you rescue 
a bunch of Directors, you're nuts."

  "No, it's not that I want your help rescuing them. You see, 
there are still quite a few people trapped in City Hall and the scores 
of basement levels underneath. It was just before five o'clock when 
the attack took place. But they can't get out because most of the 
building is burning, and fire trucks can't get near the place in the 
fire fighting. In addition to maybe a dozen more Directors, there 
are over a hundred civilians trapped down there and they don't 
have much time. City Hall is collapsing.

  "Now I may not have done much to stop the riots or the 
coup, but I can still save a whole mess of innocent people. City 
Hall was built with an escape route that leads through a mile and a 
half of underground tunnel to the Abrahms War Memorial. But 
there is a whole platoon of gang boys with rocket weapons waiting 
by the observatory nearby. As soon as they see people trying to 
leave, they are going to blow that memorial back to the stone age 
and kill everyone in it. Its just a matter of time before the civilians 
find out about the tunnel and go get themselves slaughtered. I 
know you aren't on my side, and I wont argue that with you. But I 
also bet you don't want to see a bunch of innocent file clerks and 
secretaries go MIA."

  "What makes you think I care?"

  "We have quite a file on you, Screw. I even know about 
your little adventure in the Lanz Island Incarceration block. In fact 
we both know I pretended not to see you back in your old 
apartment building when Chris sent me to take you in a week 
early. Remember the fire alarm? I let you go because if Chris had 
gotten hold of you two weeks ago when you still didn't know 
anything, he probably would have had to kill you himself to 
eliminate liabilities. I'm sure he never mentioned that fact to you."

  I was silent.

  "Yes," he then said smugly. "I was right."

  Inwardly, my chest tightened. Yes, that sounded exactly 
like something Chris would do. The fact that I had shown the 
initiative in going to Wells' mansion on my own to confront him 
could very possibly have been the one thing that made him change 
his mind, and try to help me. At least up until tonight. I started to 
feel sick. Knowing that it was this pathetic little cop's sole decision 
to let me go was torturous. And of course I couldn't admit it.
"So now I owe you my life?" I with spite.

  "I didn't say that. I just wanted you to know that I've done 
favors for you too. Chris kicked my ass when I told him Wells had 
gotten to you first. It ruined all of his old plans. But again, 
understand me when I say I don't care about the past. I needed you 
alive too. All I need is you to somehow find and make up with 
Chris, and then convince him he has more important things to deal 
with than Abrahms. Like that Rufius guy you two seem to be so 
worried about. Anything that would help those trapped civilians."
I sighed and ran my fingers through my hair. On an impulse 
I took the red pill and swallowed it dry. I felt nothing, and it was 
just as well. "Then I have bad news for you, Jules. Chris is dead. 
His organ donor card got validated via asphalt-trauma less than an 
hour ago." 

  Now it was Jules who stared at me. "You killed him?" he 
asked.

  "That's the way he must have seen it."

  "..Oh crap. Cohen is unconscious right now, and Ghast 
can't be reached down in the tunnels of the old stadium. There's no 
one left to cancel the order. What the hell do I do now?!"

  I looked at him. "I don't know, man. What about the old 
woman?"

  "She left for the Island to take over the operations there. 
Won't be back until the day after tomorrow."

  "Can't you round up a few tank battalions and give the 
gang-boys something else to fire at?"

  He thought for a moment. "I don't know; Arkoff's been 
trying that all day. And if I don't show up at the bar in a few hours, 
whoever is now in charge is gonna know I blew them all off. That's 
serious shit with Das."

  "I know."

  "But they're gonna hunt me down! No one will be left to 
save the Memorial!"

  "Tough shit. One less Gestapo jerk-off I have to look out 
for."

  "What!?" he said, shocked.

  But I shook my head. "You don't need my help, Jules. You 
just want an easy way out of doing your job. You think you're the 
only one who has problems to deal with? My girlfriend is half a 
mile under Lanz Island hiding from El Diabolique and if I even try 
to save her, the thing will kill us both. On top of that my apartment 
looks like a bomb went off in it and the fucking god-damn lousy 
cops froze my bank account the day after I got paid. I got half a 
million racing dollars I can't even touch, and a whole shit load of 
guns I have to buy just to stay alive. So don't tell me about your 
problems with Das Uberdog! I don't fucking care!"

  Jules stepped forward until he and I were face to face in the 
light of the screen behind me. He looked like he wanted to hit me. 
"Then maybe I'll just arrest you for truancy during a curfew!"

  He put his hand on the gun at his belt but I reached it first. I 
ducked his first punch, caught the second with my jaw. He kicked 
me in the gut with a perfect roundhouse and I went down hard on 
my butt. But his piece was in my hand and I aimed it up at him. 
Freezing in the middle of another blow, Jules swore and thrust his 
hand into his other holster. He swore again.

  I held up the other gun I had taken off him and laughed. 

  "That was a mistake. I'm dead serious," he said.

  "Yeah, but it looks like you're all out of options."

  He grimaced at me with fury, but didn't advance. Standing 
up carefully, I aimed one .357 at his chest, and the other at his cyc. 

  Even my teeth hurt from his blow, but I got my point across just 
fine. "You gonna use that thing?" he said without fear.

  "Don't tempt me." I uncocked the weapon. "Just remember 
who spared you when any other wanted criminal would have 
brought you home in a bucket. There you go, the favor has been 
returned."

  "I didn't think merc car-jocks were that smart."

  "You've never met one who's been in the business as long 
as me. Take your cyc and leave. I'll keep the guns as reminders."

  He walked backward without taking his eyes of me, 
stumbled slightly on the curb, and mounted his ride. Revving the 
engine, he shook his head at me. "All those civilians frying like 
fish under a thousand tons of rock. I hope you sleep well at night."

  My first impulse was to say something about his sister 
keeping me company but then maybe I was wising up a little. 

  "Life's a bitch," was all I replied.

  "Isn't it," he said soberly and peeled out. I watched until he 
disappeared down Turner Avenue's wide right curve that paralleled 
the Turbine all the way to the northern district. He was wrong, I 
realized. I did feel sorry for all the innocents trapped between Das 
Uberdog and a hard place. But Chris was dead, and I had no other 
pull with the gang. It wasn't like I was only looking out for myself. 

  My friends needed me just as much, and I had made promises to 
them that I couldn't live with breaking. It always seemed to end up 
like this; forced to choose between my loved one's lives and the 
favor of the rest of the masses which judged me. 

  Quantity versus quality if you wanted to be crass. I did.

  PLEASE STATE YOUR DESTINATION NOW, OR YOU 
  WILL BE BILLED FOR THIS QUERY REGARDLESS.

  The screen's silicon vocal cords shook behind me. I turned 
around and smashed the metal holo-box with the butts of both my 
guns. The screen disappeared immediately. White electricity 
shocked me a little as I did this and I pulled my hands away. 
Taking out my rage on anything that wouldn't fight back again. 
Familiar. I turned around and walked the other way.





-----------





  I walked a dozen blocks without being seen by anyone else, 
though I had stopped caring by the time I caught the first whiff of 
coffee. The problem was that it wasn't the smell of tomorrow 
morning's beans grinding away in polished chrome cylinders. It 
was the smell of the entire building burning to the ground; Castro's 
coffee shop as well as all the other stores on the block. A few 
badly needed fire trucks had been spared from Capitol Plaza, but 
they were outnumbered by the flames and were losing. The four 
story inferno blazed away while cops stood by and watched 
helplessly. Zig was not here.

  Deciding on a story, I walked up to the nearest cop who 
didn't look like he cared. "What happened here?" I asked.

  The officer was a short Asian man who turned to me 
quickly. "What are you doing on the street!?"

  I pointed to the coffee shop. "I work there. I'm supposed to 
come in every morning at five AM and start the pots."

  "Oh," he said and nodded. "Well we aren't sure who it was 
yet, but they threw molotov cocktails through every first floor 
window on the block. The old buildings weren't constructed in 
stone like new ones and they tend to go up very quickly. Once the 
bottom floors caught fire, it could only have been maybe fifteen 
minutes before the whole block went too. Sorry about your job."

  I sighed and ran my fingers through my damp hair. "Ah, it's 
not important. Every one make it out okay?"

  "As far as we know, yes. None of the buildings were 
residential so they all should have been empty. The night 
watchman got a little singed but he's fine. No other bodies were 
recovered but you can see they're gonna be difficult to find."

  I looked back at the fire and had to squint. The heat coming 
off the walls was intense even from across a four lane street. I 
searched the groups of officers again looking for Zig, but I was the 
only civilian. At least now I knew why police cars had been 
passing by me for the last half hour. "I thought all the rioting was 
over?"

  "Yeah, for the most part," he said. "Just about everyone 
went home last night. But there's still a bunch of gang-boys 
running around blowing things up."

  "Das Uberdog?"

  "This was probably them. Little bastards think they can get 
away with anything lately. Even public suburban destruction. I bet 
they set this fire just to divert our attention."

  "From Capitol Plaza?"

  "Yeah, how did you guess?"

  "I can see the blaze from my apartment window," I said. 
"Looked like there was still fighting going on up there."

  He eyed me a little suspiciously but said, "Maybe, but it 
isn't going to last much longer. The only gang members left are 
holed up around a few buildings on the north side and we have 
them completely surrounded. There are over six thousand police 
officers there and maybe three hundred more from the Special 
Forces. We have body armor, tanks, and no firing limit. It's just a 
matter of time."

  "Any word on whether the Mandate will approve the use of 
Shock Troops?"

  "I don't know. I don't think the remaining gang-boys pose 
that much of a threat. But then the Mandate itself is a little hard to 
contact right now, so the orders may have already been sent. Shock 
Troops aren't normally allowed off the Island, so the rest of us beat 
cops don't know what they're up too."

  "Right," I said, being an attentive listener.

  "You know," he continued, "just between you, me, and the 
fire, I don't think we need those butchers. I mean, who's bright idea 
was it to take all the smartest Special Forces officers, dope em up 
on accelerants just like shit faced gang-boys, and give em all the 
license to kill? These guys have energy rifles, even automatic 
shotguns. One of them even sees you acting suspicious and they 
turn you into spaghetti sauce. I know they only bring em out on 
special occasions, but I don't think anyone deserves that climbing 
through their windows at night."

  "I can't argue with that."

  "Maybe there's a point where we're doing more damage 
than the criminals, huh?"

  I nodded in agreement and was about to reply when 
gunshots rang out from nearby, and we both instinctively hit the 
ground.

  At the end of the block, a black Pontiac had pulled up and 
someone was firing a G79 from the back seat. The cop next to me 
yelled 'They're back!' and pulled out his magnum to fire. The car 
waited for another five seconds while the remaining cops who 
hadn't been hit started to return fire. Then the window rolled up 
and the car zoomed off. The gunshots ceased and for a minute or 
so no one moved. 

  Reloading his weapon with speed, the short Asian rose to a 
crouch and whispered over his shoulder, "You alright back there?"

  Not hearing my answer he continued "See what I'm talking 
about? Little bastards still out roaming the streets. It's bad enough 
we have to dodge bullets everywhere from bank robbers to the 
fucking car-jocks these days, without having to worry about our 
kids! The bastards looked like high-schoolers! It's times like this 
that I don't regret cracking down. It's because of them that the rest 
of you have to suffer." He looked over his shoulder to see if I 
agreed, but I was not there. He shook his head and crossed the 
asphalt to where the injured officer was getting CPR.

  Having heard all I needed to hear I jogged away down an 
alley and emerged on the other side of the adjacent block. I looked 
both ways for cops and gang-boys alike and then made my way 
west on the deserted Boone's Boulevard. I was actually a little 
surprised by what the cop had said a few minutes ago; it hadn't 
really occurred to me that the normal police probably resented the 
Mandate and the Special Forces too. They were all college grads 
which tended to put them on my shit list, but they usually didn't 
terrorize civilians. Beat cops were more for parking tickets, 
shoplifters, junkies, etc. They did their best to clean up the streets, 
and in a way I sympathized with them. The ideal was sound. Just 
because my government was evil didn't mean everyone in its 
employ was too. I really am against true crime, maliciousness and 
all that. The police were a somewhat necessary part of this city.

  Of course this didn't mean I was against killing them if they 
tried anything with me. War is hell, but it's also still war. Both 
sides had their extremes; the Mandate had the Special Forces and 
the Shock Troops while we had Das Uberdog and people like Chris 
Dais. I was starting to believe we could do just fine without all of 
them. I had served time under both sides over the years and the aim 
of social politics in a closed environment was getting a lot clearer. 

  Pure control.

  It was now 5:00 AM and I had been awake for nearly forty 
hours since escaping from the Apothecary the previous morning. 
There were no buses running and I had no place else to go. The 
only thing I knew of for miles was Korre's, my favorite bar, and 
lacking a better plan I had decided to head there. Leah or Wes 
might still be inside and let me crash in the stock room, which was 
all I really needed right then. Trying to force myself forward I kept 
the image of a bottle of Jack Daniel's aged rye whiskey in my mind 
and dug up the strength to go on. 

  I passed through several apartment blocks and a small park 
before coming to Jackson Street, where my bar and twenty or thirty 
others sat year round, killing time between Mardi Gras. A six-
wheeler between two pylons was depicted in neon lights above the 
door I sought, which I finally found and knocked on while 
beginning to shiver. No one answered and I knocked again, harder. 
Nothing. There were no lights on in the place and I didn't hear 
anything going on inside. Shit. I was too late even for a space on 
the floor.

  Now I normally would never have done this, but there 
being a curfew out, I imagined the usual trash that hung around 
bars in the early morning would have moved on. I went through 
the closest alley and around to the back loading area of the bar. It 
was almost pitch black and I had trouble finding the door. I found 
and climbed half a flight of stairs which put me on the raised 
concrete platform. There was a garage-style door here that was 
secured with a padlock. The employee entrance was ten feet away 
and also locked. I banged on this door hurriedly, not expecting an 
answer. 

  Disappointment, and the air got a little colder and I a lot 
more tired. I sat down and watched my breath dissipate. There was 
nowhere else I knew of that I could get to before exhaustion broke 
me down. Sleeping in dumpsters was risky because every now and 
then they got activated and their contents got vaporized. 
Sometimes the smartest thing was to break into a car and sleep 
there until the owner came. Then scare him off when he wakes 
you, and split. Unless he goes and gets the cops first. I stared back 
into the darkness and looked for a van.

  Then I heard movement from inside. Like light footsteps. I 
knocked again and drew one of the .357's I had taken from Jules. 
Of course if I shot anyone with the thing he would immediately 
know it was me, providing that Ballistics ever got around to 
examining the slugs. Still, I was past the point of caring about all 
things legal; the door was being unlocked from the inside and I 
withdrew into a shadow. Just to be cautious.

  It swung open and the silhouette of a woman appeared 
under the soft light of an almost full moon. She looked around and 
said "Hello?" It was not Janie or Leah's voice.

  I stepped out of the shadow and kept my gun in plain sight. 
Without a word I looked closely at the girl's face. 

  "What the hell are you doing here?"

  Karen reached out and brushed the thick stubble on my 
chin. "Rick? Is that you?"

  "The one and only," I said.

  "Wow! I didn't think you would show up! I was about to 
leave!" She grabbed my hand and pulled me inside. I shut the door 
behind me and followed her through the kitchen out into the bar. 
Stumbling into a booth, I blew into my frozen hands and tried to 
warm back up. Karen sat down next to me and put an arm around 
my shoulders. I noticed she wore an Onyx ring the same shade of 
black as her hair. "Rick, you don't look so good. Are you sick or 
something?"

  "I don't think so."

  "You drink some bad water?"

  "No, I'm always careful."

  He hands shuffled. "...Are you like, fiending anything?"

  "What?! Have you been listening to Zig?"

  "He mentioned that you-"

  "He's a lying bastard. The only time I ever smoke is when 
he forces it down my throat. I'm so not an addict, it's pitiful."

  "That's a relief. But you still look a little white."

  "Well, I haven't slept in a while. You know how it is." I 
looked at her unnatural looking black hair and wondered why she 
had felt the need to die it. Reddish blond, the color her roots 
appeared to be, would have looked just fine. She smiled but 
remained concerned.

  "You're not gonna try that macho 'toughing it out' shit, are 
you?"

  "Fuck tough. I haven't had any choice." Everywhere I went 
lately I was getting the third degree. "You still haven't told me 
why you're here. Where is Leah?"

  Karen had a tissue and she wiped dried blood off my nose. 
Her elbow brushed my neck where Chris had shot me and I 
flinched in pain. "I'm sorry! Did you get hit there?"
"Nah, it was a Saturday-night special. The jacket stopped 
it."

  "Oh, is that all. Well it's still bleeding." Her arm moved 
lower. "And your hip too! Just how many times did you get shot?"

  "Only twice. If we hadn't been going so fast he could have 
killed me with the first one. Chris hasn't left too many people 
around who he's shot at and missed."

  "Chris? I thought you said he was a friend?"

  I thought back to the conversation she, I and Zig had more 
than five hours ago. "It's a long story and I'm too tired. I'll tell you 
tomorrow." I leaned my head down on the table and closed my 
eyes. The blinking clock above the front door read a quarter to six.

  "No, don't go to sleep now! I'm taking you back to Diago's 
place with me!"

  I lifted my head up. "What?"

  "I'm not kidding! Zig is there too."

  "Wait, so you did see Zig?"

  "Like an hour and a half ago. He showed up at Castro's on 
a motorcycle and said he was being chased by gang boys. I had 
finally gotten out of there for the night and since the buses had 
stopped running was planning to walk home. We were going to 
wait for you but that's when the place caught fire."

  "Wow, you were there? Were you guys alright? How did it 
happen?"

  "Suddenly all the windows just shattered and the place was 
burning. Guys outside throwing bottles of gas and shooting into the 
building aimlessly. It wasn't just vandalism, they were definitely 
after someone, but its not like it could have been me. Or Zigwell 
really. Christ, they torched the whole block just to be thorough."
"Holy shit," I said. "I wondered if that had been it. Was it 
the Taurs? What were they all wearing?"

  "I don't know, there was way too much smoke. We left out 
the side on his cyc without being followed. He kept on saying that 
now you wouldn't know where to meet him, so we decided to 
come here. Leah let us in without any questions. Zig wasn't 
looking any better than you, though, so I managed to convince him 
to let me call someone. Diago was his third choice, and he sent his 
assistant down here in a car and picked him up. The only way Zig 
agreed to leave was if I stayed here and waited up for you."

  I analyzed that in my head. Somewhat plausible, I guess. 

  "You didn't have to do that. I'd have figured out where he was 
sooner or later."

  "Not before you got picked up by a police patrol. He said 
you might have been in a fight already too. Guess he was right." 

  She finished wiping my neck and brushed the hair out of my eyes. 
"Are you sure your okay?"

  "Yeah."

  "Are you glad I stayed?"

  I acted nonchalant and merely nodded.

  She laughed. "Good, I like to know I can help. Can you 
drive a cyc right now? We just have to jump on the turnpike and 
we can be at Diago's house in fifteen minutes. His assistant said 
you would know how to get there."

  I stretched my arms. "I think I can do it before I pass out. 
But as soon as I see a couch I'm gone."

  "I don't blame you a bit. Wait here for two minutes while I 
lock this place up."

  She trotted off, locked all the doors except the back one and 
then walked me out into the cold. The Ninja was parked a block 
away and had more than half a charge left. Karen slid on behind 
me and we left Jackson Street for the east leg of the turnpike. She 
had been wrong, fifteen minutes came and passed since I didn't 
feel up to speeding. I just kept rubbing my eyes and thinking about 
Chris.

  After a virtual eternity we arrived and left the cyc in 
Diago's front yard. There was a note on the front door:

  Screw-
  The back is locked up but you can open it with the 
  keypad. If you can't remember the number, bang on the 
  door until someone wakes up. But then I will murder you, 
  so you had better remember.
							Diago
	
  "Who's Screw?"

  "Friend of ours. Come on."

  We found the keypad on the other side of the two story 
house and I punched in the digits without hesitating. The locked 
clicked and let us inside. Karen followed me back through a 
pristine kitchen into the guest room where Zig was sprawled out on 
a bed, asleep. His breathing sounded fairly healthy so I closed the 
door and went back out into the living room.

  "Lie down," she said, pointing to the overstuffed couch. I 
did, and it was great. I felt my arms and legs slowly losing all 
tension and feeling. Numbness is bliss. Karen put a blanket over 
me and said "Take off your jacket and pants." I was about to 
interrupt but she silenced me with a look.

  I handed her my clothes and she folded them on a chair. It 
felt good, I have to admit. I hadn't had a girl care for me like this 
in a long time. Alethea never seemed to be around right after I got 
in a fight. I wondered about this girl, a stranger until a few hours 
ago and now she was wiping the blood and grime out of my eyes 
so I could see without discomfort. Definitely indicative of 
something, though exactly what was open to your guess.

  "Lie down."

  "Alright. Where are you going to sleep?" I asked, touching 
her hand when she was finished. 

  "With you of course."

  "Here on the couch with me?"

  "Do you see any others?"

  I raised my eyebrows. "But I move around a lot in my 
sleep."

  "So do I," she replied, and then patted me on the cheek. 
The natives kept getting friendlier, I thought to myself. I couldn't 
argue at the moment. I moved over and she slid under the blanket 
beside me. Karen looked even better in plain jeans, sans the coffee 
shop apron. It suddenly dawned on me that temptation might arise 
during the night. But I was dead asleep before I even felt her arm 
curl around mine. 
 
  Every time I get shot, life gets a little more complicated.






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www.geocities.com/aescension


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