Light Shaper, page 31
Rigel looked like he was blushing, although it was hard to tell under the grime that covered his face. “It was nothing.”
“It was not nothing,” Zoe protested. “If it hadn’t been for you…. God, I don’t know what would have happened. Who were those people?”
“They’re with CradleCorp,” Rigel explained. “They were after me because of what they say I did.”
“But you didn’t,” Zoe said. “They’re setting you up.”
“It’s complicated,” Rigel said, “but essentially, yeah. I didn’t make Atlas explode. I didn’t even want for Otherlife to go offline like it has.”
“Those bastards!” Zoe exclaimed.
“You believe me?”
“Of course I do! And this off-roader you wanted….”
“There’s somewhere we have to go,” Barrow intervened, keeping an eye on Streaker, who was standing nearby looking at the ground. At least he wasn’t trying to escape. “There’s a place out in the desert. It has something to do with what’s happening at CradleCorp, but we can’t tell you any more than that.”
Zoe nodded slowly, obviously thinking. “I think I can help you cover up your tracks.”
“What do you mean?” Rigel asked her.
“Nobody knows whether you came out of that alive,” she said, gesturing back at the faintly visible flames coming from the repair shop. “If somebody comes and asks, and I’m sure they will, I will just tell them that you died inside. It will throw them off your trail until they can sort through whatever’s left in there, and it will give you some time. I even have Streaker here as a second witness. Right, Streaker?”
Streaker jumped, looked at everybody quickly, and then back at the ground. “Of course, ma’am. I’ll say that they died.”
Barrow wasn’t convinced. “Can we trust you, Streaker?”
Streaker looked at him, then at Zoe, and finally at Rigel. He seemed to be trying to come to a decision, and Barrow was about to suggest they tie Streaker up someplace where he couldn’t possibly cause trouble, when Streaker did something unexpected.
He took something off that had been hanging from a chain around his neck, hidden underneath his shirt. It was black and glossy.
“Here,” he said gruffly, holding the data card with the inheritance money out to Rigel. “And… thanks. For not leaving me back there even though it was me who called those CradleCorp people on you. Me and Oswald. We tried to double-cross Jared and Matthew, and you see how that went. Sorry. If anyone asks, you’re dead.”
Rigel took the data card, nodding. “Thank you, Streaker. I appreciate that.”
“Not as much as I appreciate being alive,” Streaker said, which made them all grin.
“We should get going,” Barrow said, looking at the time. “We can use the darkness to get out of the security perimeter and closer to the Haven III site before the sun comes up.”
“Right. Let’s go,” Rigel agreed.
“Is it dangerous, where you’re going?” Zoe asked, concerned.
Rigel shrugged. “Probably.”
“And this thing you’re doing… is it worth it?”
Rigel and Barrow exchanged a look.
“I sincerely hope so,” Rigel said, getting in the car.
Chapter Twenty-Four
STEVE DROVE in silence at first, with the headlights turned off and going slowly through the outskirts of the desert perimeter. Rigel did not speak, although he wanted to. He stayed quiet partly because it was obvious that Steve was dedicating his entire attention to staying on the road, but mostly because he did not really know what to say. The last few hours had been crazy, even more so than usual, and Rigel still couldn’t believe they had made it out of the fire in one piece. All the others had thanked Rigel for saving them as if it had been his plan all along, but the truth was he had been lucky and nothing more. Lucky that none of the bullets in the shootout had reached him. That he had stumbled onto the control mechanism for the door release, that he had found a discarded gun just lying there, barely out of the reach of the flames.
Lucky that Jared had been looking the other way, never even seeing Rigel until it was too late….
Rigel shut his eyes to block out the memory, then opened them again and tried to look at the rocky desert instead. The off-roader jumped and buckled slightly in the uneven terrain, but Barrow kept it on the right track and headed northwest, where the Haven III site was located. Rigel looked up at the starry sky, so much brighter out here than in the city, and forced himself to think about something else. There were plenty of things to choose from.
At least Steve and he were now physically clean. Streaker had known a guy that ran an illegal sweatshop nearby, and there they had washed off most of the grime and changed into new clothes. Zoe had raided the supply cabinets and found some food and water for them to take on the trip. They had done everything as quickly as possible, and then they had to say good-bye, with Streaker looking glad to be rid of them and Zoe genuinely sad to see them go. Funnily enough, Rigel had gotten the distinct impression she had become his friend as well. Maybe she always had been, given the fact that she had never sold him out to the highest bidder during the days when they had stayed at the hotel. Maybe Rigel had been jealous about nothing, imagining things that had never happened because he had been too busy feeling resentful of the old friendship between Zoe and Steve to see anything else.
And then, of course, there was the kiss. The one good thing to come out of all of this, something Rigel still couldn’t believe had actually happened. He looked over at Steve, all but invisible in the dark gloom of the starlit night, his features illuminated faintly from below by the luminous displays of the car console. He was frowning, serious and concentrating, no doubt worrying about what would happen if one of the perimeter patrols found them before they were out of reach in the desert wastelands. To Rigel he looked strong, confident, with a rugged determination about him that Rigel couldn’t help but admire. His hands gripped the wheel with an easy strength Rigel found incredible to look at, the muscles of his forearms clearly shaded in the electric glow, his wide shoulders straining at the seams of the shirt Streaker had given him and which was at least a couple of sizes too small for his frame. Looking at him, Rigel wondered what it must be like to have strong hands that could lift whatever he wanted, instruments of power that allowed you not only to shape the world around you but also your own body. He did not feel jealousy, though. Only wonder and happiness. He was certain now—there was something between them, a connection he had never experienced with another person before.
Unless he was reading too much into that one kiss. What if it had not meant anything to Steve? What if it had just been a thank-you kiss or something different altogether? What if the attraction Rigel felt for him was not reciprocated at all?
He was doing it again, overthinking everything, feeling the insidious touch of insecurity.
Steve kept on driving carefully, ignoring Rigel, and eventually the silence was not companionable anymore but awkward, tense. Rigel watched as they skirted around the northern quarter of the city, dodging the main paths that the military vehicles would use from time to time. Once they stopped entirely to let a small mechanized scout go past, and Steve only started the car when the noise of the scout had died off in the distance. He kept on driving slowly, carefully, his eyes flicking to the displays on the console every few seconds to look at numbers and graphs that the onboard computer displayed, which Rigel could make no sense of. The drive was getting more uncomfortable. It was cold out in the open, and the off-roader had no proper roof. Rigel shivered involuntarily, wondering how it could be this cold when the city was always hot and often unbearably so.
They eventually reached a path that was far narrower than any of the others they had been using and which led away from the city, as opposed to around it. Steve took it unhesitatingly, and at once his posture relaxed.
He then put his right hand on Rigel’s leg and left it there, still gripping the wheel with the other. He kept his eyes on the road, his face impassive when Rigel looked at him in surprise.
Rigel tried to say something, but again he didn’t know what. He was thrilled. The warmth of Steve’s hand was real and reassuring, but aside from that one move, Steve had not said anything or acknowledged Rigel in any way. They went on like that for a few seconds, until Rigel shifted slightly in his seat, and Steve looked at him probably out of reflex more than anything. Their eyes met, and Steve made as if to take his hand away. In his eyes, Rigel saw he was….
Nervous?
Rigel understood in a flash of insight. The long, awkward silence. Steve had not been ignoring him—he had been too nervous to talk. And now he wasn’t sure that his move had been right. The look he gave Rigel was apologetic and, unbelievably, a tad insecure.
That was all the confirmation Rigel needed. He grabbed Steve’s hand with his own before he could lift it away. He smiled, and the slow smile Steve gave him in return was heartbreakingly sweet. They did not say anything, but Steve gave his hand a little squeeze before he turned his attention back to the road. And suddenly the silence they shared wasn’t awkward anymore. It was the best kind of silence Rigel had shared with anyone in a long time.
They drove on through the gloom, and eventually Rigel looked back the way they had come. Past the glow of the city, he could begin to make out the faint gray light of dawn creeping up from the east. He settled back into his seat, giving a silent thanks that they had made it out without being caught. From here on out, they were unlikely to run into anyone. Aside from archaeologists who made the trip once or twice a year, not many people ventured this far out of the city by land.
They veered off from the path a few minutes later, and Steve stopped the car. As the motor died down, Rigel realized the night was completely silent. It was weird, not hearing any kind of background noise like you would always have in the city. Peaceful, in a way. The sky overhead seemed bigger, like nature was all around him.
“We’re close now,” Steve said. “I don’t want to go any farther in the dark, though. I found where the Haven III site is supposed to be in this onboard map, but I have never come this way by land. The climb up to the mesa can be tricky for big vehicles like this one. If we wait for the sun to come out, we stand a much better chance of reaching the place quickly without falling down or getting lost along the way.”
“Okay. It’s only a little while until morning anyway.”
“Yeah. And I don’t know about you, but I could sure use a couple hours’ sleep.”
“I agree,” Rigel said. “We’ve been awake all night, and it’s been one of the worst of my life. Well. Also one of the best.”
Steve smiled. Rigel felt something flutter in his stomach and hoped it didn’t show on his face.
“For me too,” Steve answered. “It’s been both.”
The silence of the dying night settled over them again. Rigel wanted to say so many things that he didn’t know where to begin. He also wanted to get closer to Steve, but the partition between the seats made it awkward, and so he stayed where he was.
“I’m sorry about before,” he decided to say finally. Better start with the truth.
“What do you mean?” Steve asked him, pushing his seat back all the way so he could stretch his legs.
“Earlier tonight. The way I acted with Zoe.”
“I wondered about that. I didn’t want to disturb you, though. I figured you were just thoughtful at the bar. I mean, I’ve lost my home once before, so I know what it’s like. But for you it was the first time, and you have it much worse than I ever did. I thought you needed some time to think things through.”
“Well, part of it was that,” Rigel admitted. He didn’t want to say the next bit, but he made himself say it anyway. “The truth was that I was jealous.”
Steve crossed his hands behind his head, leaning back on his seat. “Jealous? Of what?”
“Of… Zoe.”
Steve gave him a blank stare. “Huh?”
“I had no idea you knew her from before, not at first. And you guys talked for hours that first night and spent all the time together afterwards… I assumed….”
“What?” Steve asked, and Rigel wondered if he could really be that clueless.
“Steve, you spent the night together with that woman. In your room.”
Steve blinked and was silent for a heartbeat. Then he burst out laughing.
It was an easy, booming laugh, and it was the first time Rigel had heard it without a wall in the way. He tried to protest over it, but Steve was laughing too loudly for it to do any good.
“You thought….” Steve gasped. “You thought that I….”
His laughter was contagious, and Rigel found himself laughing along, breaking the tension that his little confession had created in his mind. It was a strange and wonderful thing to see the normally fearsome and stoic Steve become a much younger man when he had tears of laughter streaming down his face. Maybe it was all the events of the day, but as Rigel laughed, he felt a lot of the stress of his situation slipping away from his shoulders, not exactly forgotten but no longer so foreboding and oppressive. It felt good to feel happy again, and even better to be sharing the feeling with someone else.
“Oh man,” Steve said finally, the final chuckles dying down. “Sorry about that, Rigel. Didn’t mean to make fun of you or anything.”
Rigel smiled. “It’s okay.”
“Zoe is like a sister to me,” Steve explained. “Well, at least she used to be. I left the slums a very long time ago, and I was really happy to see her, that’s all. We talked a lot about what we had done in these years, remembered some of the old times, that kind of thing.”
“How did you—no, never mind,” Rigel said. He had wanted to ask him about his past, but he stopped his curiosity just in time.
Steve looked at him. “You want to know how I ended up in the slums in the first place?”
“Um, no, I didn’t—”
“It’s okay,” Steve told him. “It’s not a story I tell everyone, but you are not just anyone.”
“If you don’t want to talk about it….”
“It’s fine. There’s not much to tell, really. I was born in Aurora like you, had a pretty normal childhood. When I was fourteen years old, there was a fire in the apartment building where my family lived. Almost one hundred people in the upper floors died. It was a big tragedy at the time.”
“The Jameson Street fire?” Rigel asked, eyes wide.
Steve nodded grimly.
“I’ve read about it,” Rigel said. “Well, they told us about it in school. They say it was some kind of problem with the electronics in the building because of a heat wave. There was an explosion, too, I think. It’s in the history books and everything.”
“Yeah,” Steve agreed and looked away to stare into the night. His expression grew somber, troubled. “But it was much worse than that. The thing that failed was the electronic building access mechanism. It had been badly designed, and when the fire started, all the outside exits locked shut, even those leading out into fire escapes. People couldn’t get out until somebody thought to call for an override, and some tenants didn’t even know the fire was even happening until it had gotten out of control. It started at night when people were already asleep. I was… I was right on the roof of the building, hanging out with a guy. I remember my phone kept buzzing, but I ignored it at first. I liked the guy, you see. I wanted to make a good impression, and everything else could wait.”
Steve grimaced as if disgusted with himself. Then he shook his head slightly and continued.
“Eventually the buzzing stopped, but then I smelled something burning. I saw the smoke coming out of the windows below us. I took my phone and saw the many missed calls from my father, who was at work on the other end of the city. He had heard about the fire first, and he was frantic. I quickly called my mother, who was inside the building with my sister, but there was no answer. I tried to get back inside—I couldn’t. There was only one door that gave access down into the building, and it was locked. A crowd of people was gathering below, and I heard the sirens approaching. I began to panic and looked for another way down, but the highest fire escape ladder was one story below, and it meant dropping from the roof. I don’t even remember what the other guy did, but I do remember dropping down and landing safely, just to get a lungful of black smoke coming from one of the broken windows. I raced down and got to the ground, looked for my mother or my sister. They weren’t there. I didn’t see anyone from our floor.
“Then I got a text. It was from my mother, saying that the doors wouldn’t open. I didn’t even think. I started going back up the emergency ladder before the firefighters could stop me. I was maybe one story below them when all the emergency exits finally opened, and everybody began pouring down the fire escape. I got lost in the crowd, fighting my way up, and at one point I almost fell over the railing because somebody pushed me. I made it to my floor and went inside, coughing from the smoke and heat that was coming from everywhere. I couldn’t see the fire, and I could barely make out the doorways under the emergency lighting. I tried to get to our apartment, but when I was halfway there I saw the hallway had collapsed. I couldn’t go any farther.”
Steve paused again, closed his eyes, and took a long breath. He held it, then released it slowly. Rigel’s mouth was hanging slightly open, and he was horrified because he suspected how Steve’s story would end. He didn’t dare speak but waited until Steve was ready to go on.
“I tried to find another way past the blockage, and I ended up in a big ventilation duct. I crawled forward feeling the heat all around me, my phone buzzing in my pocket nonstop. Then things got oddly quiet for a little while, and I was terrified but kept going until I ran into a section of the duct that was also blocked by whatever had collapsed onto that part of the building. There was a gap through which I wanted to squeeze, but it wasn’t big enough. I pushed against a broken concrete slab, but I couldn’t move it. I kept at it for almost a minute, and all I did was get stuck, unable to move, unable to back out even.
