D M Pruden - [Mel Destin SS] - Owen's Gift (html) Read online

  “I dunno, we might draw too much attention if we show up with a bunch. We should only sell a couple.” I hoped my logic played to his greed enough that he might hurry back for the rest of the stash and I could escape.

  Owen thought about my proposal for a long time. “Okay, seventy, thirty sounds fair. I can always come back for more.”

  He led me to where the soldiers kept their supplies. A dozen large crates rested in a dusty corner containing what I assumed to be explosives, ammunition and weapons. Stored separately in a more specialized crate we found the devices, each individually wrapped in a foam filled casing. The care given their storage gave me a healthy fear for what they might be. He handed one to me.

  “See, I was telling the truth,” he said.

  I didn’t doubt his word, but decided to let him think what he wanted. I removed the cylinder and examined it. One end had a plastic tab jutting from what I thought was a lid. I pulled the tab and the top popped up.

  “This is different from the one I have. This one is empty.”

  We opened several more of them, finding them to be the same.

  “This really sucks. What do you suppose is inside yours?” asked Owen.

  “I dunno. I tried to pry it open, but it’s sealed up good. Some kind of electronic lock, I think.”

  He pouted, clearly disappointed. “Well, the one you have might still be worth something.”

  The empty tube found its way into my left pocket. I helped him put back the others and we departed to see Owen’s contact.

  An hour later we stood in front of a seedy looking guy covered in 3D holo-tattoos. I couldn’t tell where his face ended and the tattoos began. The fence operated out of a pristine office block beside a number of legitimate businesses. This particular pocket of New London remained untouched by the war. The man turned my cylinder over in his hands several times. He didn’t seem to be so much examining the object as trying to work out a problem. He handed it back to me, shaking his head.

  “No deal, kid.”

  “Aw, c’mon Draco, this has gotta be worth a few credits,” whined Owen, sounding very much his age.

  “I can’t move this thing. Where did you say you got it?” He scrutinized me, like he was committing my face to memory.

  “I didn’t.” I stuffed the metal tube back into my pocket.

  With nothing more to discuss, we said our goodbyes and walked out of his shop into the busy street. I nervously regarded every passing face.

  “Too bad about those things not being worth anything,” Owen said after we turned into a quiet alley.

  “They aren’t worthless.” I glanced back at the way we’d come. “He didn’t want to deal with us.”

  “What are you…?”

  I shushed him and pulled him into a doorway. Two men in business suits entered the alleyway behind us.

  “Those two started following us when we left Draco’s,” I whispered.

  Owen risked a nervous peak around the corner.

  “What do we do?”

  “Lose them. Any ideas?”

  He examined me up and down. “Yeah, we can make this work.” He directed me to sit on the doorstep, he emptied the contents of his sack and wrapped it around my head like a shawl. After crawling into my lap, he placed a tin can with a couple of coins in it on the ground in front of us and handed me two pieces of fruit. He winked at me like he expected me to understand what to do and began wailing and babbling like a lunatic.

  The approaching men looked at who made all the noise. Suddenly realizing what Owen’s plan was, I assumed the most pathetic face I could and held up the melon and the apple.

  “Please, sirs, help a poor widow out?” We were dead, I knew it. Nobody was going to buy this act.

  Both men sneered and peered further up the alley. Owen wailed louder and drooled, making them more uncomfortable.

  “Please buy a lovely melon?” I held out the fruit.

  They left, retracing their footsteps. Satisfied they had gone, Owen winked at me and wiped the drool from his chin.

  “You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”

  He shrugged while he put his things back into his sack.

  “We need to get off the main routes,” I said. “Those guys meant business. They had guns under their coats.”

  He thought for a moment.

  “We’ll go underground.”

  After scurrying through back alleys and abandoned buildings for over an hour, we found what Owen searched for. He lead me through a door and down a metal ladder into the basement of a destroyed building. We entered another door, painted with an odd graffiti symbol. I recalled seeing the same tag on or around every one of the doors or alley ways we’d passed through that morning.

  “What’s this mean?”

  “It’s the tag for the Trogs.” He opened the door, but I stood my ground.

  “Who are the Trogs?”

  “They’re my people, I guess.”

  “Where do they live, Owen? Underground?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  We stared at each other for several seconds.

  “They’re not scavies, if that’s what you’re thinking. They won’t hurt you.”

  I raised a skeptical eyebrow, but didn’t move.

  “Are you coming, or what?”

  My options were limited. With no other choice, I followed him through the door.

  “If anyone tries to eat me, I promise I’ll kill you first,” I said, trying to sound menacing.

  “It’ll be fine. You’ll see.”

  How did an orphan who lived like him come to be so damned optimistic? Whatever Owen had, I wanted some.

  With his lantern our only light source, he led me through a labyrinth of tunnels and ladders, descending deeper below the city.

  “Is that water?” The sound in the distance, echoed off the concrete walls.

  “It’s the river. We’re almost there.”

  He quickened his pace and I was forced to keep up or be left in darkness. We emerged into a huge cavern, lit with ancient looking electrical lights strung from the ceiling.

  The brick faced buildings sported storefronts for various businesses. I saw grocers hawking their wares from makeshift tables in front of their stores. Metal workers, cobblers, butchers and dozens of other entrepreneurs vied for the attention of the milling crowd. Several hundred people teemed along the cobblestone path running up the centre of the tunnel between the buildings, each of them leisurely shopping at the underground street market.

  “What is this place?”

  “We call it Undertown.”

  I gawked at the spectacle. “You live here?”

  “Nobody lives here, silly. This is just where everyone gathers to buy, sell or trade.”

  I’d never seen anything like it. Nothing like it existed beneath Oldon, as far as I knew.

  Owen lead me into the throng to a small cantina set into the brickwork wall. We sat at table inside. It gave us a view of the comings and goings of the street without risking being observed. A portly, middle aged woman walked up to us.

  “What mischief have you been up to, Owen? Why are you bringing strays down here?” She eyed me critically.

  “Moira, this is my friend, Mel,” he said.

  “Friend, eh? Is that so?” She gave me another once over and sighed before addressing me. “Owen is always showing off new friends down here, despite what he’s been told.” She narrowed her eyes at him.

  “This is different. Mel is from Oldon. I’m helping her get home.”

  She carefully considered what she’d heard. Her face relaxed and she wiped her large, plump hands with her apron. “Oh, very well. You two are half starved. I’ve got a nice stew on the stove and Kenny made fresh bread this morning.”

  She waddled back to the kitchen. Owen covered his mouth and giggled.

  “She always thinks I’m half starved. Her stew is the best.” He sat back and turned his attention to the crowd outside.

  Moira returned with two bow
ls and some bread, which we polished off in no time. A look of concern clouded her features when she came to retrieve the dishes.

  “Kenny tells me some people are asking about two people who sound a lot like you and your friend.”

  Owen and I looked to each other. “Who’s looking for us?”

  She shook her head. “Kenny’s never seen them before, but they weren’t suits. What kind of trouble have you found, young man?”

  “No trouble,” he answered, perhaps a little too quickly.

  “Hmm, that isn’t what they told Kenny. They are offering a reward. It won’t take too long for somebody to point you out.”

  Moria, seeing the fear her remark brought to Owen’s face, added, “You needn’t worry about Kenny. He does what I tell him, but the folks out there…” She nodded towards the bustling crowd.

  Owen stood and gathered up his sack, but I was riveted to my seat. Outside the cantina was Skids in a heated discussion with the two suits who’d followed us into the alley. The taller of the men repeatedly pushed his finger into Skid’s chest, making a point. What bothered me was that nobody ever treated him that way. The conversation continued for a few more moments and then the suits abruptly departed, leaving Skids alone in the milling crowd.

  “Owen,” I said, “we need to leave. Now.”

  He nodded. “Moria, can we use the river door?”

  “You don’t have much time before the water rises.”

  “We’ll be quick.” He looked at her in earnest.

  “Off you go, then. You know where it is.”

  Owen led me through the cantina and into the tiny kitchen. Kenny, a sallow looking fellow, chopped vegetables at the counter. His eyes followed us as we made our way to a far corner. I helped Owen move some boxes to reveal a trap door in the floor. He opened the hatch to a ladder leading down towards a rushing underground river.

  “There’s a catwalk off to the side. Come on, hurry up.” He climbed down. Kenny’s gaze bored through me as I descended and I understood in that instant we were out of time.

  The rungs did not reach all the way to the gantry and I dropped the last metre. My boots clanged onto the platform. I caught my faltering balance on the spindly metal tube that served as a handrail and the only barrier preventing me from toppling into the rushing stream of water below.

  I informed Owen of Kenny’s betrayal, but he refused to believe his friend capable of such an act. Before I could argue, the door above us opened again. In a few moments somebody would spot us. I pushed him and he turned to run down the unsteady metal gantry. The turbulent river rushed noisily beneath us, masking the sound of our clanging footsteps. Algae and weeds hung like rotting cloth on walkway and the handrails, indicating how high the rising waters would soon reach. My foot slipped and I fell, grabbing the equally slippery handrail. My legs dangled over the river as I pulled myself back up.

  I looked back to see Skids and Cable climbing down the ladder and I raced to catch Owen. I desperately searched for some sign of an escape, but the eerie electric lights along the top of the tunnel cast deceiving shadows. We passed several other trap doors in the ceiling, but none had access ladders. Skids shouted at us and gave chase. We enjoyed about a two hundred metre advantage over him, but he and his man closed the gap between us.

  Owen’s short legs pushed him as fast as they could and panic grasped at my beating heart. The water had risen since our descent and now lapped at the metal walk way, mere centimetres beneath our feet. There was little time before the level rose above our heads. We would be caught before then.

  He would beat me. It would not be the first time and I didn’t fear that as much as I feared what would happen to Owen. Skids would take a cheerful, optimistic little boy who’d endured far too much misery and destroy him. He would be violated in every manner imaginable, broken by abuse and drugs and sold to somebody who would have even less respect for his personhood. He would be dismantled, body and soul. I’d watched Skids do it before. I didn’t know those poor boys, but I knew Owen, and I couldn’t bear the idea of such evil befalling him. How I came to care so much about a stranger mystified me, but care for him I did. We needed to escape.

  Abruptly, we arrived at a wall, marking the end of the catwalk. A closed trap door was overhead, but any means to reach it had been removed long ago. The rising water now licked at our heels. Owen studied the rushing waters flowing over a spillway that dropped off ahead of us.

  He yelled at me and I could barely hear him over the thundering rush of water. “Can you swim? This is the only way out.”

  “No, I can’t.” I stared anxiously at the torrent beneath us.

  His look of disappointment at my response changed to one of determination.

  “Then we’ll fight them off.” He stepped protectively between me and the fast approaching men.

  I had no idea what Owen believed he was capable of doing to defend me, but I wasn’t about to allow him to try. Skids and his man stopped running about twenty metres from us. He smiled with satisfaction at our entrapment. I turned to consider the water below and Owen’s plan for escape.

  I placed a hand on his shoulder and moved my mouth close to his ear.

  “I’m sorry,” I said to him.

  I grabbed the rail for balance and swept his short legs out from under him with my own leg. He fell awkwardly onto the metal catwalk. While he was still confused and fighting to gain a handhold to pull himself up, I bent down and, with all of my strength, I rolled him off the platform into the raging waters. He disappeared from view as he was swept down the spillway. I hoped he was strong enough to stay afloat until he reached the safety he implied awaited us.

  Hands seized me and pulled me to my feet to face an angry Skids. A vicious backhand across my jaw caught me off guard and knocked me back against the handrail. Cable grabbed my arms and held them securely behind me to prevent me from following Owen.

  “Now you’ve gone and done it, you little bitch,” yelled Skids. He slapped me again on the opposite cheek. Strong hands prevented me from falling.

  “I sent you on a simple trick, and you disappeared and took something that doesn’t belong to you.” He struck me again. “Where is it?”

  I tasted blood. Glaring defiantly at him, I replied, “Where’s what?”

  Another blow, this time with his fist. My cheek was numb and stars danced before my closed eyes.

  “Don’t play dumb, I know what you have. Give it to me.”

  Skids killed a girl once before. She’d stolen something from him. I don’t remember what she took, but he beat her to death, even after she returned it. There was no way I was going to escape this by resisting him.

  “I hid it,” I said through swollen lips.

  “Tell me where it is.”

  “I’ll take you to it.”

  He grabbed me by my hair and pulled my head back.

  “If you kill me, you’ll never find it. I don’t think your pals in the suits will be too pleased with you, then.”

  He released me and took a step back. “If you’re lying to me…”

  “Look, I have no idea what the fucking thing is and nobody wanted to fence it. It’s not worth anything to me, so you can have it.”

  I had no guarantee that he wouldn’t murder me anyway, but, like Owen’s deck of cards, I could only play with what was available.

  “Why did you disappear?”

  I explained to him all the events around the dead client and how I came across the object. “I was lost and couldn’t find my way back to Oldon, so I hired the kid to show me the way home.”

  Skid’s face slackened as doubt entered his mind. Then he frowned again.

  “Why did you run from us?”

  “I didn’t know it was you. I thought you were the two suits who followed me. I saw them in the market and tried to get away.”

  He weighed my explanation.

  “Why did you push your little buddy into the water?”

  “He was an annoying pest who was going to get
us killed. You knew he had a knife on him, didn’t you? I saved your life, Skids, in case you didn’t realize it.”

  He snorted. “Yeah, right. As if that kid coulda hurt me.”

  “I didn’t think he needed a chance to try, so I dunked him. I figure you owe me a little consideration for that.”

  “Well…maybe. But you still need to hand over the item.”

  I’d played the final card of my weak hand. I couldn’t bluff my way any further. I hoped he valued me more alive.

  “No problem,” I said. I tried to reach for it, but Cable still held my arms. I looked at Skids and he nodded for his man to release me. I produced a metal tube from my left pocket. He snatched the object from me and examined it carefully.

  “It isn’t damaged, or anything,” I said.

  Satisfied, he put the cylinder into his jacket. All bets were closed. Now was the time to learn if I played a winning hand.

  “Take her back home and clean her up. She’s got some work to do to make up for the last two days. I’ve got some business associates to meet.”

  Cable escorted me back the way we’d come, and not a moment too soon. The water was over our ankles and made the trip back to the ladder difficult. I hoped Owen was all right.

  After Cable returned me to the brothel house everybody else expected Skids to follow and resume beating on me. I maintained no concern for my safety, and bided my time in my room. Three days passed without a word from him. Some thought the Morality Police nabbed him and would soon descend on the house and take us all for moral re-education.

  When that didn’t happen they worried the scavies got him. Cable felt particularly guilty when that came up. Still others in the house thought they heard he died in a turf war ambush.

  I remained confident none of those things were even close to the truth. I believed he fell into a bad business deal and paid with his life.

  Out of my right pocket I produced a metal cylinder, noticeably heavier than the one I gave to Skids. The suits he met with knew more about the device than he did. They would realize when they were duped and they didn’t strike me as the forgiving types. I guess karma can be a bitch if she wants to.