Black And Blue (Quentin Black Mystery #5) (30 page)

“I do.”

“How’d you end up in here?”

“It wasn’t through the court system, I’ll tell you that.” Black met his gaze again, his stare level. “You help me get this off, I can get us both out. That’s a promise.”

Cowboy continued to frown. Then he reached out, rubbing the surface of the collar with one thumb. “Looks just like stone. Feels like stone, too... like some kind of river stone they polished up. Feels more like glass than metal.” He glanced at Black’s face. “But it’s warm. Why’s it warm? That from the electronics inside?”

Black shrugged. “I don’t know,” he lied.

As much as he needed Cowboy to trust him, he couldn’t tell this human that the collar was probably warm because it likely had organic, living components, in addition to dead ones. As in, part of the collar was alive. That was assuming it worked anything like the collars had on Old Earth, but the stone-like, iridescent green metal made Black think it did.

He had no idea who was building organic machines on this version of Earth, but he intended to find out. If it was made anything like the ones back home, someone might be farming humans or seers for parts, too.

His voice sharpened when he spoke up next.

“Sorry I can’t tell you more,” he said. “That might change, if we get out of here. You’re right, though. Any tool you have would have to be almost strong enough to cut through stone. Sharp, too. And the inside of the collar’s likely to be wet. Soft, anyway.”

Cowboy grimaced, still looking at the collar.

“Wet?” he said. “What the fuck is inside?”

Black shook his head. “Can’t tell you that either.”

Cowboy looked at it a few minutes longer. He pulled on it too, making Black wince in pain. He didn’t complain, though. He wanted Cowboy to learn as much about it as he could.

After another few seconds, the other man leaned back, resting his elbows back on the upper bleachers. He exhaled, squinting his eyes as if thinking.

“Guards don’t like me looking at that thing,” he observed, inclining his head in the direction of the tower. “They started watching us, as soon as they saw me take an interest. I’m thinking this is something they’re going to go to great pains to keep on you, brother.”

Black nodded. “Yes,” he said only. “I imagine you’re right.”

“And you’re not going to tell me who you are?”

Black shrugged, meeting his gaze. “It wouldn’t mean anything to you if I did,” he said. “But I’ve got connections. I can help you, if you help me.”

“You’re not really a chief, are you, boss?”

Black sighed, clicking a little with his tongue on the roof of his mouth. He stopped doing it as soon as he caught himself, making his expression smooth as glass. Miriam had gotten him in some bad habits again. He’d lowered his guard around her, started acting more seer. Maybe that was even part of why this was happening.

“My wife is,” he said finally, glancing at Cowboy. “I figured I needed some allies in here. And I hate Nazis.”

Cowboy smiled back, clearly satisfied with his answer. To that question, at least.
 

“I hate Nazis too, brother,” he said, clapping him on the shoulder. “We’ll see what we can do with this thing.” His mouth hardened. “What work detail do you have?”

“None.”

“None?”

Black turned, giving him another flat glance, glancing briefly up at the tower, and the other inmates, who were still giving them both a wide berth. “They have me signed up for some laboratory thing. I don’t know when I go, but soon. Soon enough that we can’t wait on cutting this thing off of me.”

Cowboy’s smile left his face, maybe for the first time since Black started talking to him.

“They’re sending you to the white coats?” he said.

Seeing the understanding in those gray eyes, Black frowned. “What do you know about it?”

Cowboy shook his head, whistling again, but still without the smile. His eyes looked worried now, even after he met Black’s gaze. “I know most of them don’t come back, brother... and the ones who do, they ain’t right.”

“Ain’t right?” Black’s frown deepened. “Ain’t right, how?”

Cowboy continued to shake his head, but the distance in his eyes showed him to be thinking. Finally, as if he’d given up on trying to describe the particulars to himself, he glanced up at Black’s face.

“They just ain’t right,” he said, blunt. “It’s like a part of them died while they were there. We call ‘em zombies in here.”

“Zombies,” Black muttered. “Fantastic.” He looked out over the yard, scanning faces, watching the way people moved, looking for other loners he might have missed. “Anyone like that here?” he said finally. “Anyone I could talk to?”

Cowboy shook his head. “Far as I know, they don’t stay here long either, brother. The ones who come back... those zombies... they’re only passing through. They move them pretty quick afterwards.”

“Move them where?” Black said, giving him another hard stare.

Cowboy shrugged, leaning back on the bleachers. “You wanna know what they tell us? Or what I think?” he said.

“Both.”

“Well, they tell us that they get a free pass to parole,” Cowboy said, wiping the heel of his hand across his forehead, smearing dirt and sweat. “They try to get us to think it’s a great deal, going to the white coats. That if we make it through, we get a free ticket to free town.” He gave Black a shrewder look. “They promise you that too?”

Black nodded. “More or less.”

He paused, once more studying the other man’s face, and wondering about him. Wondering what his story was, why he’d fought beside him, why he seemed open to the idea of helping him in the first place. It’d been a long time since he couldn’t get insight into another person he truly wanted to know more about.

Well, apart from Miri.

Pain ribboned through him, badly enough that he winced, clenching his jaw. It got bad enough it triggered the collar slightly, forcing his eyes closed.

“Hey! What’s wrong with you?”

Black looked up, meeting the other man’s gaze, his frowning mouth. Black saw curiosity there, but also something that might have verged on concern.

“They break something inside you, brother?” he said. “You unwell?”

Black shook his head. He fought to get his light under control before he set off the collar for real. Already, he could feel it heating up around his neck. After another few breaths, he managed to stabilize the pain somewhat.

“And?” he said after another pause, still slightly out of breath. “Where do you
think
they go? The patients who come out of there?”

Cowboy hesitated, as if trying to decide if he should push the point.

In the end, he seemed to accept Black’s wish that he let it go.

“I figure they send ‘em to more doctors,” he said, matter-of-fact. He made his voice casual, tilting his head back and closing his eyes up at the sun. Opening them again after a beat, he squinted at Black. “You know. Institution or something. Dope ‘em to the gills so they can’t talk about what was done with ‘em. Can’t call no ACLU lawyers nor press. Tell ‘em they had some kind of ‘mental break’ while they was in here... tell the docs that, too.”

He gave a low snort, tilting his head back and closing his eyes.

“I sure as fuck don’t expect to run into one of ‘em bagging groceries at the
Piggledy-Wiggledy
when I get out.” He grunted. “Or living high on the hog off Uncle Sam’s teat, for that matter. Their crime and chaos days are over, my friend.”

Turning his head, he gave Black another meaningful look.

Black pressed his lips together, fighting another surge of near-irrational anger. He knew the separation pain from Miri was making that worse. He also knew it wasn’t all about her. He hadn’t felt this helpless since he was a kid, and he fully intended to make someone pay for that.

Before he could think of another question, Cowboy spoke up again.

“Can you get to the machine shop tomorrow morning, brother?” He adjusted his arms on the bench behind him, his eyes still closed to the sun. “Say, around... seven? Eight o’clock? I might be able to provide an escort.”

Black looked at him, the separation pain briefly forgotten.

“Yes,” he said. “Absolutely.”

Both words came out definitive, with zero doubt.

Sixteen

BREAK-IN

REMEMBER, THEY CAN block us now, Miriam... almost totally. Expect to be blind as soon as they realize we’re inside the building. I’ll do what I can with my people to try and counteract that, but you have to expect you won’t have any advantage over them. Worse, they will still have some advantages over you...

My uncle’s words ran like a constant mantra in the back of my head.

He’d been pushing me to learn to partition the different areas of my mind, but I still couldn’t do it very well. Moreover, the separation pain was so bad most days I was having trouble focusing on just one thing, much less multiple things at the same time.

I’d asked my uncle to help me learn to control that, too. I didn’t have much choice; just about every day it seemed to get worse, and it still didn’t seem to be leveling.

They can also block you from reading humans in spaces they control,
he went on, his mental voice low and precise as he murmured in my mind.
Much like seers, they can protect their own humans from our minds. You have to identify the actual vampires visually, if you can. They look different... it’s subtle, and humans won’t notice, but remember the markers I showed you. Once they make a move on you, the differences should be obvious... but it would be better if you could ID them well in advance of that...

I nodded to that, too, renewing my grip on the gun I held.

Their reflexes are as fast as ours, Miri,
my uncle conceded grudgingly.
Maybe even faster. They have a better sense of smell... and hearing. And for the gods’ sake, don’t let them bite you. The effect of the bites can be extremely disorienting, especially the first time. They have a means of hacking our minds when they drink from us... I can’t fully explain it, although we’ve tried to study it since we discovered their existence here. It seems they have the ability to both read our minds and force mental projections on us via our blood. The effect is short term––more or less limited to feeding and the period shortly after. There is some theory their bite emits a chemical that has a paralytic effect, as well. It certainly seems to have that effect on humans...

I fought with the part of me that wanted to tell him how ridiculous this all was, the part of me that still couldn’t believe we were seriously discussing
vampires
as if they were a real thing. I tried to force myself past that feeling, to focus on why I was here, what I was doing.

This is a combat op, Miri, I told myself. Combat.

Think like a soldier.

If my uncle noticed any of my doubts, it wasn’t apparent from his thoughts.

The effects of their bite can be compensated for by training,
he added, his mental voice grim, holding a more overt thread of anger.
All of the seers I brought for this have that training, and have fought vampires before, so you’ll have help if anything happens... but you won’t have any of that training yourself, so you need to be extremely careful, Miri. They’ll try to bite you just to pacify you... and they’ll drink as much from you as they can. So don’t let them get too close.