Crossroads, page 3
part #1 of Hollow Island Series
“No more talking,” said Nash, mostly wanting this encounter to be over, but also worried that too much dialogue would reveal the secrets of his endowment and weakness. “You saw what my partner did to the snake’s little friends. If you think you’d fare better without a head … Go ahead. Make my day.” That was a line from the original John Wayne, wasn’t it? Nash wanted to smile, but everything hurt too bad.
The slightest scuff of movement came from behind him.
Turning and raising the gun, he saw a blur of movement streaking his direction. He pulled the trigger with time to spare, but the gun didn’t answer the call. The Snake leapt in the air, heedless of the gun pointed at him. He collided with Nash and clung like he has half monkey, wrapping and grabbing wherever he could. While he was still scrambling for a solid grasp, he sunk his fangs into Nash’s shoulder.
Where the acid in the eyes had been sharp as if it was eating its way through layer after layer, the poison from the bite was liquid fire, pulsing and pounding with each heartbeat. At first it was concentrated in the two points in his shoulder where he’d been bit, but he could feel the burning venom spreading outward into his chest and down his arm.
As Nash fought to get the Snake to loosen his hold, he felt a hand grip the back of his neck roughly.
The Wizard came into his vision in blurry focus. “Abra cadabra.”
Another pinprick hit Nash in the neck and again the power to move left his body as if someone had hit a switch.
Painless agony replaced the agony of pain. He was in his enemies’ power and they would not let him surprise them again.
“Just enough recharge to put him down,” came the Wizard’s voice. “Your venom should do the rest.”
The Snake had perched protectively on Nash’s body, staring down at him with inhuman eyes which Nash was glad he couldn’t entirely make out. That disgusting, two-pronged tongue flicked in the direction of Nash’s face. Trying to look on the bright side, his vision was getting better all the time.
“Next time, Ranger,” said the Wizard and it sounded like he was talking from the far end of a long tunnel. “Just take the money.”
Psychedelic waves swam across Nash’s vision, and his mind started pulsating. It reminded him of the time his friend’s brother had pranked them with some magic mushroom brownies that left him laying on the ground staring at the ceiling for hours.
The venom was stronger than the brownies, and he felt sleep rolling like a wave, dragging Nash away from the Hollow Island street.
3
First Lesson
<< Jennie: a resident of Hollow Island who has been modified, whether through genetics or technology. Derived from the principal phonemes in Genetically Engineered.
Definition from hollowisland.com/wiki >>
Something solid landed on Nash’s chest. It wasn’t heavy enough to hurt under normal circumstances, but after the beating he’d already taken, it felt like a stab to the ribs. He jolted awake, and when he opened his eyes, he was surprised that his vision was nearly perfect and his eyes didn’t sting anymore.
The woman from the market, Chiel was looking down at him, scowling hard. Apparently she had dropped his gun on his chest. “You can wake up now. They’re gone.”
Nash realized where he was and pushed himself up to a sitting position, causing the gun to fall to the street. Electric pincushions shot through his body, but the worst pain came from his left hand, shooting up his arm. He lifted his left hand and had to blink to make sure he was seeing it right.
“Fig me,” he said, feeling the jargon of the island roll off his tongue naturally for the first time. The pinky of his hand was missing, cut off at the lowest knuckle. Sticky blood coated his hand and he saw a small pool of it on the asphalt where his hand had been resting, but the wound had clotted over.
They’d done it; the Wizard cut off his finger and fed it to the Snake. The thought made him want to puke. What the hell would make someone want to eat a finger?
“Got your pinky, huh?” asked Chiel. “Guess I can’t be too mad at you.” Her eyebrows went up and her head twisted. “Oh wait. Yes I can. Thanks to your meddling, instead of taking a few kilos of leather goods, they took everything. Including my horse!” She kicked him in the hip.
“Hey,” said Nash, rising to his feet as he snatched up his gun and holstered it. He swayed as another pincushion grenade exploded in every part of his body. When the storm died down, he said, “I didn’t even want to come here to begin with.”
“I wish you wouldn’t have.” She stormed over to John Wayne and threw his gun down onto his chest with more force than necessary. No wonder it had hurt Nash when she’d done the same to him.
John Wayne made an oomph sound and started moving his arms and legs.
“Why didn’t you just shoot them instead of punching that Snake freak at the beginning and talking all tough to the Wizard?” Chiel demanded. “Or at least knock him out when you had the chance? Is this your first day on the Island or something? Because you’re the worst Ranger I’ve ever seen.”
Nash wanted to deny it, all of it, but he didn’t dare bring back the sickening gut feeling.
“It is!” she said. “That’s my damn luck. Someone finally comes to stand up to them, and it’s the two stooges.” She threw an arm in John Wayne’s direction. “He has an excuse, he at least shot until he lost his gun, but you had them and just let that stupid Snake slither right up and bite you.”
Nash didn’t know what to say. Yeah, he could have done a better job, but he also could have been more prepared. He wanted to make it up to the woman, or at least make a gesture, so he reached for his coin purse.
It was gone. Of course it was gone, along with the twelve kilos he’d immigrated with. That much money was supposed to set him up while he figured out life here.
“I’m sorry,” he said, swallowing the anger he felt with the entire situation. It sucked for all of them, but Chiel hadn’t asked for help to begin with.
“You are sorry,” said John Wayne sitting up and grimacing with every move as his body regained feeling. He made eye contact with Nash. “Make my day? Did you really say, ‘Make my day?’”
“Yeah.” Finally Nash felt like he’d done something right. “Not bad, huh?” Lines that perfect usually came to him ten seconds too late to use them.
“No,” spat John Wayne, rising to his feet. “That was Clint Eastwood, not John Wayne, you piker.”
“Same person, isn’t it?” Nash wondered if his trainer was messing with him. “Real name and screen name?”
“Kill me now,” said John Wayne. “On second thought, I should just end your miserable life right now. Pigsquirmy. I’ve killed men for less before.” He shook his head. “I don’t even want to talk about the rest of that abortion you called a rescue. I’m just glad my face was looking the other direction so I didn’t have to see it.”
“I saw it,” said Chiel. “Couldn’t even look away, even though I wanted to. You would have died of shame.”
She had seen the beating he’d taken, the venom in the face, and how quickly he’d gotten up on his feet, despite what the Wizard had said. That was a whole different issue than just hearing it, as John Wayne had. Nash wanted to ask her to keep it secret without making a big deal of it, and without John Wayne overhearing and knowing too much. Of course, if he let her know he didn’t want anyone to know, she could blab the secrets of his endowment to the whole island. He turned to John Wayne.
“This may shock you,” said Nash, “but I made it clear I wanted a minute to catch my breath on the Island before a knock-down, drag-out like that.”
John Wayne blew out a breath. “I started you out with an easy one. And you didn’t tell me they were immigrating greenhorns that no one could use.”
Chiel rolled her eyes and shook her head. Without another word, she turned and started walking away.
Nash still wanted to make it up to her somehow. At least a gesture. “Can we escort you home or something, so you get there safe?”
Without turning back, she lifted her hand in a fist, with her thumb tucked between her first and second finger. Nash had seen it enough on the hollows to recognize the fig. The woman he’d tried to rescue had basically just given him the bird.
This kind of rescue was what he’d come here for, and it had only taken a few hours to get a shot and blow it. He could handle the consequences to himself, but it wasn’t right for him to screw up other people’s lives. This was not what he’d bargained for and he was already starting to wonder if immigrating had been the right decision. For better or worse, he was stuck for the rest of his life, no matter how short that ended up being.
At least he wasn’t alone. He didn’t see eye to eye with his trainer yet, but at least he had someone to lean on for a while. Also, the pain is his body had gone dull all over and he could almost feel it stitching itself back together. Rather than being done with fighting, Nash thought he might be able to handle another one if he had to.
John Wayne chuckled and came to rest a hand on Nash’s shoulder. “At least you took a bit of a beating.” He looked Nash up and down. “Consider it your first lesson on the island.”
Nash had to wonder how much his trainer knew about the beating. That kind of a brawl, including the kicks he’d taken when defenseless should have left Nash on the ground drooling like a vegetable. Nash still wanted to keep the secrets of his endowment and weakness so he hedged, “Eh, I had worse back when I did MMA.”
Sudden nausea filled Nash’s gut with raw sewage again. He put his hand over it, trying to calm the churning nausea.
“You mean, like cage fighting? I was wondering what MMA meant in your bio.”
“Yeah,” said Nash, curious what else his bio said. “I was on the high school team. Sparred in gyms when I could find guys who would get me in for free in exchange for having someone new to slap around.”
“And they hit you that hard?” John Wayne looked skeptical. “I couldn’t see you, but I know a thrashing when I hear one.”
It was Nash’s turn to shrug and act like it was no big deal. “I won a lot.” That part wasn’t a lie. “It made some guys feel like they had to prove something. So when they had a shot at me they didn’t waste it.” Also true.
“And they hit you as hard as these pig milkers?” John Wayne would not let it drop.
“Sometimes.” The queasiness and stomach pain increased exponentially; if anyone had ever come close to the kind of damage he’d taken today before Nash’s endowment, he’d be dead or brain-damaged. Nash doubled over, resting his hands on his knees. Sweat broke out on his face and his mouth started watering profusely. The thought of swallowing pushed him into a retch so he spat against a wall.
“Hmm. I thought you were done for.” John Wayne peered more closely into Nash’s face. “You got spit on! Two hours in and they’ve already ruined that pretty face of yours. Sorry to be the one to tell you, but you look like the Son of Freddy Kruger.”
“I think it’ll clear up,” said Nash. “It barely misted me.”
The third lie hit Nash as hard as the kick to his gut had. Doubling over, he spewed vomit into the gutter. When he was done heaving his guts all over the place, he leaned against the wall to catch his breath. Puking didn’t even dispel the nausea. His gut felt like it was full of sewage. He just wanted to curl up on the ground and never move again.
Laughing, John Wayne rested a hand on Nash’s shoulder. “Gonna have to work on that gut if you plan on attending any more fanny-kicking parties.” He handed Nash a relatively clean handkerchief, which Nash used to clean up his mouth. “Either that or don’t get any more concussions. And you’re lucky he barely got you. I know a man who went blind after getting spit on. Guarantee he’d rather be uglier than sin than blind.”
“Yeah,” agreed Nash, careful how he phrased the next statement. “Glad I’m not blind.”
“What about that jolt?” asked John Wayne, leading Nash away from the scene. “He said he gave you everything he had left.”
Nash considered lying. He also considered how the consequences of lying got worse with every telling. What would be next? An image came to mind of his large intestines protruding from his mouth after being puked up. Nash wasn’t in the mood to find out if that could really happen.
He settled on saying, “All I know is I feel like I got sodomized by a lightning bug the size of a house.”
John Wayne barked laughter and said, “I like you, kid. You screwed up, we’ll get you back on your feet. And since that was your first fight, you get to buy drinks.”
All Nash really wanted was a huge dinner. The nausea was fading and he felt like he could eat whatever anyone threw at him. “What? How does that work?”
“Each big first on the island is a round of drinks. Longstanding Ranger tradition. Lucky for you there’s no drinking age here.” John Wayne seemed genuinely surprised that Nash hadn’t heard of that tradition. “You can’t tell me you haven’t seen that on the hollows.”
Nash hadn’t seen that, but he wouldn’t mind buying, if he had any money. “They cleaned me out,” said Nash. “Didn’t leave me a brass mil.”
“No problem. I know a place that will gladly open a tab for Rangers.”
Going into debt so quick on the island sounded like a bad idea, but it was nothing compared to rushing into the fight they’d just taken on, so he nodded. It would give him time to ask some questions and finally catch his breath. Not to mention shovel some calories down his gullet.
John Wayne looked over both shoulders and put his arm around Nash as they walked. In a low voice, he said, “I know what you were trying to do with the coin. I see the whole knight in shining armor persona you’re going for, and it will make a great scene for the hollows. Now just nod your head like I’m giving you some secret advice. When they air this, they can just add some dramatic music and pan out.”
Nash was pretty sure the cameras and microphones that covered Hollow Island would pick up every word, and he didn’t care what the outside world saw on the hollows. He wasn’t here to be famous. He kept his mouth shut and nodded.
“Also a good call throwing the coin back in his face if you don’t intend to accept a bribe. It’s bad business going around accepting bribes then turning traitor on your money train.”
“It’s bad business accepting any bribes,” countered Nash.
“You go ahead and tell yourself that now, young un. Someday you’ll learn that the world isn’t all black and white.”
This was obviously a point they wouldn’t see eye to eye on no matter how much they discussed it, so Nash brought up a new topic. “Why didn’t they kill us? It would have been easy.”
“It’s a delicate ecosystem on Hollow Island, and killing Rangers disrupts it in a way most men aren’t man enough for. Maybe in a dark alley if they catch you alone, but not two Rangers a block from the market after a dozen people saw us following them and heard the gunshots.”
Maybe Nash had been right to hold back. Didn’t the professional courtesy, or whatever it was, go both ways? Hopefully he wouldn’t be in that situation again for quite a while.
John Wayne went on. “We Rangers are a selfish and ornery group of sonbitches and daughters of whores, but it’s asking for a whole heap o’ trouble to kill one of us. So they’ll shock us, kick us, bite us, spit at us, and rob us if they can get away with it, and it’s our own fault if we let them.”
“Cut off our pinkies.” Nash held up his left hand.
“Oh, son!” John Wayne covered his mouth with his fist and laughed without conscience. “You really will remember this day forever.”
“Glad one of us is entertained.” Nash shoved his hand into his pocket, even though it stung the wound.
“Another tactic is to hurt our public image and make it look like our fault. Turn them against us.”
They’d definitely done that with Chiel. “How’d you know she’d be going down this street right then? And that they’d be here too?”
“Contacts, son. I talk to the right people. I have … arrangements with the right people. Like I said, sometimes the world isn’t black and white, and because of it, we’re able to make a difference.” In a conspiratorial tone, he added, “And on those days we don’t feel like making a difference, at least we can make a few coins.” He winked his mechanical eye, and it made a tink, tink sound.
That sounded shady as an umbrella in hell. Another discussion for another day.
“That’s the first lesson you need to learn, piker. Sometimes you just accept the coin.”
The words made Nash feel … alone. There were half a million people on the island, and he was attached to his trainer for thirteen more days. Yet this was not the world he thought he’d signed up for, and from what he saw so far, there was no place here where he fit.
He needed to find that niche, find at least one person who he could relate to. Maybe that was Karolina, maybe it would turn out to be another Ranger. Because, after all, there was no going home.
4
En Tête a Tête
<< While the diet of Vamps doesn’t consist entirely of blood, they can metabolize vast amounts due to an enzyme which they produce following engineering of their genes. It is the least impressive of their modifications.
- José María Montierth, Vampire Expert >>
Drum beats reverberated through every corner of San Juan as Livi ran with four Bête Noires trailing by half a block. Bête became more appropriate with every step—the night would be more of a gamble than Livi was used to. She should have known, when the first one allowed himself to be lured so easily, that more would appear. It had taken less than a block for the other three to emerge from the darkness and join the chase.
One way or another, the night would be more than she’d bargained for—either cleaning up more trash from the streets, or getting more of a challenge than she was up for.
