Ashes of the Fall (24 page)

Then, right in the Red Bee, I become Matt Stokes again.

Of course, there are a couple
complications—naturally. The first is that, since I reinstalled the HoloBand, it means I’m back on the Circle’s grid. I can be tracked, and there’s just no way around that. They might not notice, since Matt’s HoloBand is supposed to be lying dormant in evidence. But that’s wishful thinking. The system will flag them somewhere along the line, and I’ll have a target on my back.

The second, and more pressing issue, is simple: I don’t have the second drive. It’s assumed that the third and final drive lies at the coordinates from the HIVE demo, which head to the Black Hole. Me and Kid are also running on the assumption that this place will include the computer hardware required to actually make sense of this so-called antidote.

But the drive I recovered from the Rems is still with the Ashes of the Fall. More specifically, it’s with Evelyn Vera. I can see their headquarters two blocks up. Me and Kid stop in front of a crumbling apartment building that disappears into the night sky.

“This is it,” he says.

“Why her?”

“She’s the one with the drive.”

“I meant why’d Slick give it to her,” I say. “She’s a nurse.”

“She’s also the resident computer tech,” Kid says. “The AoF uses old school networks, stays off the HoloBand grid that way. He sent the drive to her for analysis.”

“She have any other talents I need to know about?”

“Evelyn’s not dangerous.” Kid leans up against the side of the building, in the alley. “Clock’s ticking, Stokes.”

I pull the drive from my pocket and hand it to him. He takes it with a disinterested shrug. I begin walking out into the dim lit street. Then I pause. “You know, Blackstone gave me back all my stuff, except for one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Matt’s travel journal,” I say. “It was in the strongbox.”

“Someone at the AoF probably tossed it before Slick handed over the contents to Blackstone,” Kid says. “No place for sentimentality.”

“Sure, I get that,” I say, the explanation ringing false in my mind. I hug the shadows as I walk into the main street. Before I enter the apartment building, I check to make sure the .38 is loaded. It’s good to go. I tuck gun in the waistband of my pants and pray that I won’t have to use it again tonight. Then I push through the rotating doors into a lobby that’s seen better days. Fluorescent lights hang from the ceiling, threatening to drop on my head from thirty feet up.

The front desk is abandoned and covered in graffiti. Most of the messages contradict each other. This is probably why Tanner has managed to hang on this long. The factions spend all their time fighting each other, rather than the real enemy. It’s like two small dogs who think they can crush the big bad Rottweiler by beating on each other. They didn’t stand a chance to begin with, but the added stupidity just makes the inevitable defeat extra brutal.

I walk past the desk and a planter filled with dirt that resembles white chalk. Two of the elevator doors are ajar, leading to empty shafts descending into infinite blackness. A third is cracked open, an exposed electrical wire buzzing and hissing inside, blue sparks pulsing from the ends.

I try my luck by pressing the button next to the fourth. The elevator car creaks and shakes its way down the decrepit building. As I wait, I spot two guys shuffling out of the shadows of the ruined mailboxes, dragging their bodies towards me like zombies.

The doors chime just as they join me.

“Hey man, you got a spare credit,” one of them drones in the far-off trademark tone of addicts and stoners everywhere. “Just like, anything you got.”

He fiddles with his oversized sweatshirt, his eyes totally glazed over. He’s looking at me, but not really. Whatever he’s seeing, it’s not reality. It dawns on me that this is what HIVE will be: the ultimate escapist drug. I step into the elevator car and give them an easy smile.

“You fellas going up?” I’m glad I have the .38. At the same time, it’s not really necessary. These guys are so lit that they’re more liable to collapse and die than kick my ass.

“Nah, I think I’ll stay here for a little bit.” His buddy keeps looking at me. “Dude, you’re like, glowing.”

“Good to know.” I jam my finger against the button that says 136 in faded letters. The doors begin to creak shut.

“Yeah, he’s got good vibes,” I hear the second guy finally say. Then I’m alone, rocketing through the shaft in what seems like a tin can. The walls of the elevator quake and shimmy, like the whole thing is about to spiral off the rails. There’s a good shot it either drops me down the shaft or launches me into orbit.

A metal on metal screech indicates, however, I am safe and have successfully reached my destination. The elevator groans, like it’s not sure how long it can continue working. I know the feeling. A printed and laminated sign on the peeling wall tells me that units 13,600 – 13,649 are to the right.

Underneath that, someone has taken the time to issue an important PSA—that “Mariah gives the best hed.” The author doesn’t win spelling points, but they’re probably too dead to care what I think.

I’m almost winded by the time I pass the sea of doors before Evelyn’s. I rub my palms together for luck and take a deep breath. Then I give the door my best knock.

The door swings open, and Evelyn is standing there, blonde hair wet, body wrapped in just a towel. I had this entire interaction planned from the start. Here I would be, leaning against the doorframe, cool as anything. Tell her
yeah, thanks for saving me. I need your help to change the world. Because I heard you’re really good with computers.
Or something to that effect. I’m still rusty from the wastes. But the general idea is simple: she would look at me and see my confidence and any doubts about what the hell my real plans were would go flying out the window.

Instead of that, however, I say, “Shit,” because that’s all I can actually manage. Been awhile since I’ve seen a woman like
this
. One variable I failed to consider.

She actually blushes, so it’s not completely wrong. Then she clutches the towel a little tighter and says, “What are you doing here, Luke?”

And she says my name. Like at least ninety percent pissed off that I’m just wandering in, but the other ten percent curious. It’s enough to make my mind immediately delete whatever I had to say next. So I blink and wrinkle my nose, then I clear my throat.

“So,” she says. Her damp hair shakes a little.

“You need to put some clothes on,” I say.

“Too risqué?”

“No,” I say. “I can’t think when you look like this.”

Her eyebrows knit together, and her face turns redder. “Like what?”

I regain my cool enough to say, “If you have to ask, you’ll never know.”

“I’m asking anyway.”

“I gotta talk with you,” I say. “About…other stuff.” I take a final glance at her bare shoulders, the smooth skin. It’s only a little less than what she was wearing before, when she stitched me up, but it makes a world of difference.

“It’s kind of late,” Evelyn says. The little moment passes.

“Never too late to see you.”

“You’re better than I heard,” Evelyn says. “Come in.” I slip by her, inches from the towel, and head to the sofa. She sits down next to me on the couch.

“That’s what they all say.” I can’t see her eyes, but I hear her sigh. “That, too.”

“I bet they do, Casanova,” she says and hands me a pair of battered field glasses. “Look over there, on the left. The city’s beautiful at night.”

“That’s not why I came—”

“Just look,” she says with a whisper. “Imagine what the world could be.”

There’s a long silence. I stare out at the empty park, at the leave-less dead trees, the yellow grass. At one time long ago, this place was beautiful. Birds played in the empty, algae covered fountain, dogs snarled at one another on the cracked paths. Maybe there weren’t so many goddamn skyscrapers, rising from the ground like glass tombstones, blocking off the little sky that’s left.

“I’m guessing you came for the drive,” Evelyn says. The towel dips a little.

I don’t bother denying it. “Yeah.” It’s almost refreshing for someone to see you for who you really are—not who you think you are, or pretend to be. So I tell the truth. “I need it.”

“To save your own ass?”

I think for a second before responding. “There’s more to it than that.”

“Like what?”

Before I can answer, the coordinates flash across my vision and my temple throbs. I bring my hand up to my head and snap my fingers. “Hey, give me a piece of paper.”

Evelyn gives me a funny look, but manages to find a shred of paper and an old pen buried deep in one of the drawers. Apparently I’m still expecting some residual effects from the HIVE demo, even after a few hours. I scribble down the coordinates before they disappear. Good to have a copy for myself—I told Blackstone, sure, but just in case…

“What are those?” Evelyn says when she sits back down. She leans over my shoulder and I smell lilac. “Coordinates, huh?”

“I gotta go to the Black Hole.”

“That’s your best play, at the end of all this?”

“Best option out of a bad bunch.”

“So make your own option,” she says.

“How do I do that?” I say.

“If you have to ask,” she says, “You’ll never know.”

Then Evelyn gets off the couch, the towel not entirely closed at the back, so that I can see her bare thighs and the beginning of her ass. I instruct myself to stay on my game, stay on mission. I try to focus on the tiny studio. She makes tea in the kitchen as I inspect the clean, minimalist space. There’s a woven bamboo mat in the corner.

“You meditate?” I say.

She doesn’t look up but says, “Not many people know that. Lost art.”

“Not much time for stillness,” I say. It’d be tempting to close my eyes and think of nothing. Allow the world to disappear. But it’s not going to happen. “Where you from?”

“Tacoma,” she says. “Got out before the quake hit.” A spoon clinks and she comes over with the tea, the towel slipping more. I watch as she takes a sip. “Drink. It’s good.”

“Seattle,” I say. “You know what happened to the Space Needle?”

“I imagine it’s cracked in two,” she says.

“You aren’t wrong.” I remember the broadcast from Old Silver Fox. Snapped in half like a twig between a wolf’s jaws.

“So what’s the play, Luke,” she says, the towel slipping further. “Come here, call me pretty? Snatch the drive while I’m not looking? Or maybe, if things don’t go your way, put that gun of yours up to my head and pull the trigger?”

“I guess a little,” I say in a soft voice, like I’m admitting something horrible. “Not that last part.”

“I didn’t peg you for a murderer,” Evelyn says. “Drink your tea.”

“It’s the only way to fix things,” I say. “Avoid war.” Even I’m not sure that’s true.

“I’m still glad you came.” Then she comes forward before I can react, her full lips closing in, and then everything happens all at once, and this little room a quarter mile high in the sky is the universe, the galaxy, everything that has ever existed and will ever exist.

Nothing else matters.

Everything else matters.