Division Zero (22 page)

unlight reached in through the slats of her window, poking Kirsten in the side of the head until its gentle nagging tugged her out of her sleep. She had stayed with Evan until he fell asleep, and then dealt with all the documentation. Eze already gave her the okay to come in whenever she got up due to the late night. Despite being concerned about her use of mind blast, he seemed pleased at what she had done. Division 0 liked to find new recruits, more than willing to do whatever they could to fill the void left by cruel or incapable parents. She lay there, stuck in the comforgel, staring at the ceiling while daydreaming about what it would have been like if someone had been there to save her.

Conspiracy nuts spouted off about how Division 0 stole children and indoctrinated them from a young age, but they had no idea of the circumstances. The nuts got it right in that the school kept the students under heavy supervision with almost no privacy, but what else could they do when dealing with great power in the hands of the primal id of children? The staff treated her with kindness, and she had found comfort and protection in the strictness. In all truth, the school existed to protect the kids from a society with no idea how to handle them as much as it kept their temper tantrums from wreaking havoc. Not until her fourth night there did the reality that her mother was not coming for her sink in, and she could sleep with both eyes closed.

She moaned into the pillow. Aside from its inherent cruelty, the other reason she disliked mind blast came in the form of a dull ache that lingered for a day or two. Someone once told her it stopped with practice, but she never wanted to use it often enough to build a tolerance. Fueling the blast with anger over Evan left her feeling as if she had recovered from a vicious episode of vomiting, except it was her brain aching instead of her gut. The psionic recoil, as it were, from firing
that
gun.

She caught herself awake again, having drifted off; the clock crept up on nine in the morning. As much as she did not want to move, she did not want to push Eze’s tolerance too far. Dragging herself out of bed, she staggered to the bathroom, catching the doorjamb to avoid falling. The walls and floor blended in a nauseating dance. Kicking the door closed, she wobbled up to the shower tube and shed her undies. The room became a blur of semiconscious delirium, made worse by the phantom knife through her brain. She fumbled for the shower tube latch for over a minute before she got it to open.

The warm embrace of the water felt incredible; the tension ran down her body with the droplets, vanishing into the drain. After a long moment of bliss, she opened her eyes and met the lustful stare of a man in a shiny black trench coat standing with her in the tube. His white painted face had several streaks of black makeup, star patterns around his eyes. His dirty clothing gave him the look of a street person; baggy black pants clung to his legs, adhered to the skin with blood.

She screamed and twisted in an effort to cover her nakedness. Jumping into the side of the tube with a thump, she scrambled to get away. He did not move, continuing to admire her body. She closed her eyes and took in a breath, realizing she had forgotten to blockade the room. Ghosts had walked in on embarrassing moments before, this being the second time for this one in particular.

“Dammit, Theodore, Get out!”

“I like the view better here.” His lips curled into a weak smile. “You forgot to wall off the room again. To be honest, this is much nicer than catching you on the throne.”

The water frothing out of the shower mechanism passed through without wetting him, his clothes as dry as ever―except the places soaked with blood.

She felt caged. He stood by the hatch and she could not, no matter how hard she tried, force her body through the plastic wall behind her.

“Why do you care? You’re fucking dead.” She swatted at him, her hand dispersed part of his image into silvery mist that reintegrated.

She could slap him if she wanted to, but lacked the requisite focus of mind due to her embarrassment. He devoured her with his gaze. Her hands moved wherever his eyes went, but soon she realized he controlled her and got as much of a view as he wanted.

A voice laden with gravel filled the tube. “I may be dead, but I’m not dead.”

Red-faced and mortified, she just glared.

“It sounded funnier in here.” He poked himself in the side of the head. “Oh, I got something for ya.” He raised his hand with the sudden change of topic.

She squinted at him. “So help me if you touch me right now I will lash you into oblivion.”

“Relax. Geez, no wonder you can’t get a date.” He chuckled, lowering his arm. “Yanno, eventually you gotta let a guy that ain’t dead see the goods.”

She sank to the floor, doing anything she could to cover as much of her body as possible. “Please at least get out of the autoshower.”

“Or girl if dat’s your thing.”

“
Out!
” she shrieked loud enough to make the tube vibrate.

His shape became indistinct through the foggy plastic shell. Feeling some degree of privacy from the blur, she stood up and restarted the shower.

I’m not opening the tube while he’s here, might as well finish.

“Did you actually have something useful for me or was that just a cheap line?” She closed her eyes as soap splashed over her. She could not stop thinking about being stared at.
I could blockade the tube… oh, screw it.

“Yep.” His words muted through the plastic. “I got info for you about those crazy dolls.”

Blind and covered with soap, she turned to face the sound of the voice as the water ran over her. “What? Tell me.”

His voice lost the subdued quality, becoming clear―and close. “He’s going to strike again today.”

Kirsten’s right eye snapped open, sensing the change. His pasty white face protruded through the plastic right in front of her breasts. With a shriek, she slapped at him, but hit the tube wall as he leaned back. She cradled her hand to her chest and whined.

“Why are you doing this?”

Laughter echoed from outside. “The way you react makes me laugh. I decided I enjoy making people uncomfortable. Scaring the shit out of them is so passé, it got boring about sixty years ago.”

She grumbled as the shower kicked into dry mode and her hair danced up and around her in the warm air. He would just stand there until she walked out into the open. She could win only by ignoring him but she did not know if she had the wherewithal to streak past a man, even a dead one.

“Well, tell me already, where? Who is it?”

“I dun got that much detail.” He paced, waving the loose belt of his coat around. “I hear things, whispers. He’s going to the mall.”

“The mall? Which one, there’s a hundred.”

“Several hundred actually if you take the entire city into account.”

She braced her hands against the plastic tube, searching for the conviction to just do it. He laughed at having her trapped in the cylindrical enclosure.

“You know, these panties look like they belong to a schoolgirl. You should try something in red silk. No, black… Black would set off your hair.”

She cringed. She had dropped them right there on the floor in plain sight. The ambiance of the room changed as Theodore released energy. His blur leaned down and picked up something white from the floor. Her face reddened when she heard him inhaling.

Penance for being a slob
.

“Exquisite.” His voice, deep and throaty, followed the long breath.

The white shape fell without a sound to the rug.

She had two ways out of the shower. The embarrassing way might be productive. The second would make her feel better, but even if he survived, she doubted he would tell her what she needed to know.

She shoved the shower open and walked out as casual as she could force. She could not hide the blush that glowed from face to chest, but ignored it. He leered as she pulled a new set of undergarments from the white box and tore the pack open. In her haste for coverage, she almost tripped as she stepped into them. For three minutes, she struggled to clip the bra behind her back while Theodore kept popping it open. Having had enough, she turned at him with glowing eyes and an astral whip in her grasp. He raised his hands in surrender and backed off with a smile of feigned innocence. She clipped the bra and stormed out into the main room, scowling.

“Okay, fine, you win.” He followed as she slammed the door through him. “You know, they say wearin’ a bra actually makes them sag worse when you’re older.”

She fumed, unable to get her sweat suit on fast enough. His voice floated over her shoulder, close enough to kiss.

“Hanford Plaza Mall in sector 93 later this afternoon, at the food court. I consider us even on the mirror, even though you technically broke it.”

She spun, but he had gone. The blush, however, lingered.

Her father did not show up as she waited for the PubTran bus. She had once daydreamed of being free from his nagging presence every morning, but relief manifested as sorrow. She studied the crowd as people approached, hoping to see him, to no avail. When the bus arrived, she plodded to her usual seat, staring at the floor and ignoring the pole. She felt more alone than ever, and shrank into herself with her arms folded. She dozed on the ride until the overwhelming smell of oil and scorched plastic choked her awake.

The man from the intersection appeared in the seat next to her. Few people rode the bus at this hour, so she felt no awkwardness talking to him.

She offered a polite smile. “Hi.”

His voice wavered with confusion. “You looked at me.”

“I’m sorry to have to tell you this…”

“Eddie.” He nodded. “I’ve been waiting on this bus every day since you looked at me, where have you been?”

“I’m sorry to have to break this to you, Eddie, but you’re dead.”

His gaze sank into his lap.

“I saw you in the street the other day, I―”

“Everyone else is ignoring me.” He looked up with urgency in his eyes.

“They’re not ignoring you, Eddie. They can’t see or hear you. You’re a ghost.”

He shook his head and muttered ‘no’ a dozen times. With all the gangs, vigilantes, crazies, accidents, and corporate warfare, the city had a ton of ghosts like him. He followed her all the way to her desk, walking right into her squad room.

“Who are you talking to?” Dorian looked up.

“Eddie. Traffic accident, I think.”

“Another denier?” Dorian looked back at his screen. “That’s unfortunate.”

Eddie pouted at him.

“Don’t worry, Eddie. I’ll tell your family anything you want.”

“Can you meet me at the house tonight or tomorrow?”

“I’ll try to get there as soon as I can but I have something I need to deal with first.”

After giving her the address, he walked out through the wall, whimpering. She groaned and ran her fingers through her hair. “Do I have sap written on my forehead?”

“You just care.” Dorian did not look up.

Nicole fluttered by, dropping off a coffee for her. “Rough morning?”

“No, just a late one.”

“Why are you blushing?”

Kirsten felt embarrassed all over again. “Blushing… am I still blushing?”