Beyond These Walls (8 page)

Chapter 15

A couple of hours later, covered in dried sewer gunk and smelling like pickled barroom eggs, I crossed the street and knocked on the front door of a two-story brick house in one of the few decent sections of Mutant City.

A woman answered, her large green eye examining me from head to toe. The curl of her upper lip mimicked her disgust, but I hadn’t expected a friendly welcome from Nobody’s mother. In fact, in the hundreds of times we’d met in the past, she’d yet to call me by name.

“What do you want?” Her wrinkled hand clutched the doorframe, like at any moment I would force my way past and destroy her ghastly collection of clown figurines.

With effort my lips curved into a polite smile. “Is Nobody here?”

Her long, thick eyebrow rose. “When are you going to stop dragging my poor son into your
Stannum
drama? He’s a good boy.” My grin widened. Calling Nobody a ‘boy’ was like referring to the Big Bad Wolf as a harmless puppy with a taste for granny-steaks. Mrs. Nobody continued, “You’ve cost him his career, his friends, and the love of his life. What do you have to say for yourself?”

What I wanted to say and what I said was vastly different. I wanted to scream at her, to tell her the truth about her son, about the man I knew, the real Nobody, not the bullshit ideal she worshiped. But it wasn’t my place to out him. Not like this. Not this time.

As I’d repeated a hundred times before, I said, “I’m sorry for ruining Nobody’s life.” I paused. “So is he here?”

She huffed, discharging perfumed breath into the air between us, which was an improvement over the scent rising off me. “Nobody,” she called back into the house. “That
Stannum
is here again. Haven’t I told you to keep her away from my house? What will the neighbors think?”

The heavy tread of Nobody’s boots echoed in the archway. “Don’t worry. I’ll tell them she’s collecting donations for a cult,” he said as he pulled the front door open, and his mother disappeared inside the house.

“What happened to you?” he asked, waving to the front porch swing dangling to the right of the door. I brushed at my pants and sat. The swing swayed slightly under my weight.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

He shrugged his massive shoulders. “Fair enough.”

“That son-of-a-bitch.” I pounded my fist into my hand. “He orders me around like a child, and then dares to kiss me. If I ever see his sorry face again, I’m gonna—.”

“Ivan kissed you?” Nobody sat on the swing, sending it rocking dangerously backward. “I knew the old man had bad eye sight, but to try and kiss you?” He gave a shiver. “What was he thinking?”

I slugged him in the arm popping two of my knuckles. “Ow.” I rubbed my hand and smacked him again. “Shut up. You know who I’m talking about.”

“Yeah I do.” He grinned. “So what’s the problem? The hunter likes you. Use that, and find out what he knows. If he’s working for the HOA he might know something about the vaccine.”

“True.”

“And if he doesn’t, you’ll still get laid and stop being such a bitch.” He paused, the moonlight reflecting off his shiny teeth. “It’s a win win for us all.”

I ignored his attempt at humor. “I think he’s part of the Resistance. Or at least knows how to contact them.”

“That makes him more dangerous.”

I silently agreed. If Jake McClain held the secrets of the Resistance he’d do anything to protect them. Kill or die, it wouldn’t matter to him.

“But if he is part—,” I began, but was interrupted by the front door swinging open and Caren barreling through it. Her bright eyes shone like processed uranium in the darkness.

“Hi Indeara,” she said, dancing back and forth across the patio. “Did you find me mum?”

Damn. In all the recent drama I’d forgotten my promise to Caren. Mei’s extended absence suggested more than a one nighter turned weekend affair. That and our recent encounter with an annoying pack of smelly reptoes. I doubted Mei’s disappearance would result in happily ever after, but I would find her. I owed Caren that much.

Nobody patted the kid’s pale hand. “Not yet, sugar. But we will. Until then, you like staying here with me, right?”

“Yeah.” She shook her tiny shoulders. “But I wanna go home.”

I nodded. I knew the feeling.

“His mum smells old,” Caren whispered, glancing at Nobody. “And she doesn’t like me.”

“Then don’t like her back.” I winked at Nobody over the top of Caren’s head. He frowned, and shook his head in a ‘what the hell are you teaching that poor kid now’ gesture.

“Remember our rule?” Nobody grinned as he lifted Caren into his large arms. He hugged her tighter and tighter until she squealed with laughter. “Don’t ever listen to Indeara. It’s bad for your health, like eating roach-sugar.”

Bleep.

I glanced at Nobody and the annoying buzzing from his pocket. He frowned, and set Caren down before pulling a small handheld computer from his jeans. “Caren, why don’t you go ask my mom for some ice-cream,” he said, gesturing to the front door.

She looked at him, and then at me, her mouth forming the stubborn line of a preteen, but she did as Nobody asked. When the front door closed behind her, Nobody scanned his computer screen and let out a sigh.

“What?”

“Another message from Mutant L.” He pointed to the device.

“Oh, and how is your girlfriend?”

Nobody shook his head and shoved the handheld computer into my hand. “Not good.”

My eyes scanned his computer screen, noting the long list of names, and the heavy dark line through the first twenty of them. A hit list. A Resden Mutant hit list. Mutants captured and vaccinated by Resden. And those poor bastards they planned on capturing next.

“Not good at all.” I swallowed hard, fear turning my skin to ice. “Mei’s name is crossed off.”

Nobody nodded. “Keep reading.”

Four names later, a pain shot through my heart, nearly stealing my breath. “The HOA wasn’t after me tonight.”

“No.”

“What are we going to do?”

“We?” Nobody grinned. “We aren’t going to do anything. You’re going to stop Resden. And I’m going to do my damnest to help.”

“But—” I began.

“Forget it.” Nobody pulled me to my feet. “It’s time to go save the world.” He emphasized his comment by smacking me in the butt and quickly jumping back a few feet before I could react.

“Fine.” I pointed to the computer screen and the thick, black block letters that spelled his name. “But I’m going to kick your ass if you let them cross you off.”

“Fair enough.”

Chapter 16

I awoke the next afternoon, around noon, stretched, and smacked my head on a wooden sign hanging from the ceiling of Nobody’s childhood tree house. It read:
No girls or humans allowed
. He’d broken that rule in the fourth grade when he’d invited me to his tree house to clean up after I saved his ass from a group of annoyed ninth graders. A trend that continued most of our lives: Me saving Nobody, and him patching me up afterward. So I’d spent the night in a spider-moth infested the tree house, hoping to save his worthless ass one more time.

A few minutes before sunrise, I fell asleep watching Nobody and Caren through Nobody’s bedroom window as they slaughtered the last of the rainbow-colored unicorns in Cyborg 8 and move onto flesh-eating teddy bears in Cyborg 9.

The fear that had paralyzed me since seeing Nobody’s name on the mutant list faded sometime in the dark of the night replaced by single-minded violence. I’d kill every agent if I had to. Nobody would harm Nobody as long as there was blood in my veins. I glanced through the wood framed window of the tree house and into Nobody’s bedroom.

Nobody lay curled on the floor, his body tucked protectively across the threshold of his closet where a tiny Luna child slept. Nobody would be a hell of a dad one day, as long as I didn’t fail, and he stayed alive. I smiled at the thought of Nobody baking brownies for the PTA.

Some fates were worse than death.

Climbing down a frayed ladder rope, I considered my options for the rest of the day. I had to find the Resistance and get them to help me destroy Quinn and his vaccine before it was too late. But first, I sniffed under my arms, I needed a shower, some fresh clothes, and coffee.

Lots of coffee.

An hour later, standing outside my apartment complex, I paused to scan the grounds for agents, reptoes, and any other creepy, crawly things out to do me harm. Seeing nothing, I carefully picked my way through the maze of broken concrete and termite-fly infested wood of the complex I called home and into my apartment. It had seen better days.

Clothes, furniture, and garbage lay strewn about the rooms. The HOA had searched everything, their anger mounting by the looks of the damage. I snatched up a pair of black cargo pants from the floor and a pink bra from the refrigerator. No sign of any t-shirts so I made do with a white tank top.

I took a quick shower, taking an extra minute to shampoo the fairy sewage from my hair. Squeaky clean and smelling like Nobody’s strawberry scented shampoo, I tossed on my clothes and stuffed my stocking-clad feet into my boots. Glancing in the mirror I decided my attire would do, for a nightcrawler. A cheap one at that. No help for it. I smashed my curls under a clean skullcap and headed for the coffee maker.

A missing coffee maker.

Shit. I searched the kitchen, living room, and bathroom before stumbling upon the wayward caffeine-giving device in a heap at the foot of my bed. I shrugged. Where else would it be? I plugged it in, fired it up, and sucked down a semi-warm cup of coffee grounds while contemplating the mess surrounding me. With any luck, the agents would return to burn the place down.

Finishing my coffee, I stumbled across the room toward my closet and its broken door. Ripping the busted frame aside, I slammed my boot-clad foot through the darkness, connecting with the back wall. Plaster shattered and a hidden cache of deadly weapons appeared. I picked up my M1911 and balanced its weight in the palm of my hand. It was a heavy weapon, deadly at close range. It would leave a hole the size of a grapefruit in anyone who fucked with me.

I shoved the gun in my pocket and grabbed a much smaller and lighter PM40 from its case. In a moment of desperation this gun would do the trick, but more importantly, it fit in the holster sewn into the pink lace of my bra. After adjusting my breasts to fit their deadlier roommate, I jammed twin dive knives into my boots and glanced in the mirror once again. I still looked like a hooker, but I now had twenty pounds of weaponry strapped to my body. It gave a girl perspective.

Taking a deep breath, I winked at the mutant in the mirror, and went to work. Literally. I headed down the street to Ivan’s Lair. Gangs of mutant teens and plague-riddled mutant-rock addicts hung out on the street corners while chicken-hawks scouted the younger girls for future night-trolling activities.

As I passed, a chicken-hawk, his feathery face bobbing to a beat inside his pointed head, said, “Hey mama, I got what you need.” He grabbed his crotch, in case I missed his point.

The street corner teens laughed. I paused, my eyes boring into he chicken-hawk’s until the humor disappeared from his face, and the teens scattered. “Sorry ma’am.” The mutant bowed his beak-like head and scurried away, his tiny claw-like legs clinking against the pavement.

Ma’am.

Damn.

I picked up my pace, making it to Ivan’s in less than ten minutes, but I didn’t go inside. Instead I waited for a sign. A beer sign to be precise. A few minutes after five Ivan flicked on a glowing green St. Mutant Girl beer sign in the window, a clear indication Ivan’s Lair was open for business.

Good. Ivan was there and would be there for at least a six-pack, maybe a fifth of whiskey if I was lucky. Now, I needed to find Ivan’s son. Not Quinn, but Mikey.

My plan was simple really.

To force Ivan’s hand and send him scurrying to the Resistance I needed him scared. Unfortunately, the only way to scare Ivan was to threaten someone he loved. That’s where Mikey came in. If Ivan believed the HOA had kidnapped Mikey he’d run to the Resistance, and it would only be a matter of me following his lead into the rabbit hole. Simple, right? That and a wee bit unethical, but my motives were pure, or so I told myself, about a hundred times.

My quest for Mikey Daniels took a couple of hours. I went from bar to bar, and strip club to strip club, finally locating him at Dapper Dane’s: Live Totally Nude Mutants, Mutants, Mutants. Dane’s wasn’t a dive. Oh no, it was a really big dive, open seven days a week, twenty-four hours a day. Which wasn’t bad unless you wandered in around six in the morning. The morning strippers were a different sort complete with extra nipples, twelve-inch labias, and fur.

After five seconds inside Dane’s I longed for a shower. A really hot one. The building itself wasn’t bad, a little run down, maybe, but not a surprise in this section of town. But the smell wafting through the club knocked me back a step. It resembled something like week old fish, year old beer, and forty years of desperate stripper sweat.

An assembly line of nightcrawlers sat at the bar, their lips frozen in an eternal O. I closed my own mouth and scanned the club for Mikey. A few prominent members of the Mutant City council huddled around a small stage, drinking martinis, and plotting ways to screw us.

A loud laugh caught my attention. Mikey sat, or rather slumped on a wooden chair, his pudgy body jiggling to the pounding beat echoing from the speakers. A stripper with exceedingly big ears shook her naughty parts above him.

Lovely.

I walked over to them, waving to Mikey’s circle of associates. All of them beautiful mutants in their twenties with sizable trust funds and breast implants.

“Indy,” Mikey said when his lap dance ended. “What are you doing here? Let me buy you a drink.” He waved to a nude girl holding a drink tray, and she rushed over. Before I could respond, Mikey ordered me a shot of vodka and motioned for his groupies to make room. I sat, taking a second to wipe the leather seat.