Torch Song: A Kickass Heroine, A Post-Apocalyptic World: Book One Of The Blackjack Trilogy (33 page)

“Thanks.” Except that I’d gotten caught. That brought up deep questions about my skill. Still, not much point in hanging onto self-doubt. And there really wasn’t much point, either, in making any more denials. If I had to crash past her and her guards at the door, I could do it somehow, even with one arm. I thought. And it wasn’t like I was betraying people who hadn’t betrayed me. So I started talking.

“Yes. Newt wants to find out what you’re doing. And the chief contacted me. And I haven’t told either one of them very much.”

She sneered. Good. It was not attractive. I needed that.

“Oh, and why not?”

“Because I don’t know very much.” That was hard to admit, but might sound as true as it was. The rest just poured from me. I was tired and I wanted my arm sewed up and it didn’t matter— she already had most of it figured out. “And because Newt is a— he’s never trusted me, and he’s an idiot. I don’t like him, don’t want to help him. The whole time I was fighting in that clearing today I kept thinking of his soldiers as ‘the enemy.’ And the chief? Is she the one who betrayed me?”

“No.”

“But she knew you were at least suspicious, didn’t she?”

“Yes.”

“And she didn’t tell me. Oh, she hinted around, suggested I might want to leave town. But she didn’t tell me.” Odd how good it felt to be telling someone the truth. Even Jo. Or particularly Jo. I was a disgrace to my trade.

“You came here to spy on us, Rica. Why shouldn’t I just kill you now?” She didn’t sound as hard as she was trying to sound.

“Because I fought for you today. Because I’d rather be working for you.” What I didn’t add was that I wanted to know exactly what the Colemans had in mind for our corner of the world, for Gran and all her crazy friends. “Because I’ve been working for an asshole and a political weasel. I could leave, go home, let them flail around in their own mud, let you finish Newt off. Or I could pretend to still be working for Newt while I’m really working for you.” More or less. Jo was smart. She would know I had my own reasons for supposedly turning. Would she care?

She laughed, loudly this time, truly amused. I hoped. “You just told me he doesn’t trust you.”

“But he still ordered me to join your army.”

“He did?” I nodded. “Have you had a chance to report to him about it yet?”

“Look at me! Do you really think I’ve had a chance to do anything except get hurt?”

She crossed her legs and looked out the window. Very casual. So in charge. So confident. “And the chief? What about her deal with Newt? What’s she going to think when I let you hang around, and what’s she going to tell him?”

“She wouldn’t tell me I was in danger. I assume that’s because she doesn’t want to get on your bad side. Why would she tell Newt what was going on? Why would she do anything at all?”

“I think you’re right about that. We’re pretty sure the chief isn’t going to tell him.” She laughed. “And why should I trust you?”

You shouldn’t. “Because I’m a merc without an employer. The chief betrayed me and I don’t want to work for Newt. And because…” I thought about it. Because what? “I’m not sure why you’re doing the things you’re doing. I don’t even know what it is you’re doing, but I know you’re decent to your people. You treat them well. That tells me something.” It felt good to be able to string together a few truths.

“What is it you think we might be doing?”

“I don’t know. Building power, I suppose.”

“It’s more than that, Rica. There’s danger in the world, and it’s growing here. Rocky sent spies, they want to invade and take over. Everything’s changing, or on the verge of it. I just heard that there’s a movement over in China toward re-integration, and rumors about Australia. If it’s happening in other places, we can’t fall behind. That’s dangerous. And we can’t let Rocky do it for us.”

“China? That’s a long way away.” As far away as Stockholm. They’d been gobbling borders for a decade and we’d felt no ripples on this side of the world. Not yet, anyway.

“But a sign of change. And there are changes in Oceania, too.” But signs don’t mean reality.

So then— “we can’t fall behind here”— the Colemans really were trying to create a larger country. A much larger country. Because others were doing it. A country that could fall apart in bloody death… I realized I’d stopped breathing. I took a breath. She noticed, her eyes narrowing. I tried to calm myself. Chaos, balkanization— those were good for me. Order was not. I could never make enough money as somebody’s beat cop or acting or singing. I liked things the way they were.

“How are you planning to defend against the changes in other places?” This was not just a matter of defense. It was a matter of the Colemans grabbing Sierra and Redwood first.

She stood up. “I’m not ready to tell you that. I’m going to talk you over with Judith and Samm. Meanwhile, consider yourself under house arrest.” The look she gave me at that instant sent a rush of heat to my groin. “I guess you could call it bondage.” A slow smile. I could feel the heat crawling up my chest, into my neck and face like one of Gran’s hot flashes, way back when.

When she opened the door, Doc came in. they nodded to each other.

I had a lot to think about while he sewed me up.

Dead water laced with industrial acid

On her way out, Jo said something to someone outside my door, and Emmy came back in, a worry line between her brows, her blue eyes puzzled.

“Jo told me to search you for weapons, Rica.” She looked uneasy. Doc stepped away from the bed, only a slight lift of the eyebrows betraying his surprise. She frisked me and found the state-of-the-art laser in my boot. That left one in my car, one in the closet. Her mouth opened as if she wanted to say something, but she didn’t. The doc didn’t react at all; his eyebrows were back where they belonged. Like he was a million miles away. Maybe this was the way he handled being in the pay of the Colemans— removing himself from the scene emotionally in case something bad happened. He could also be hiding sympathy for me, and there might be some way I could use that.

As Emmy backed off, he returned to the bedside, shook two pills out of a little vial and told me to swallow them.

“For the pain.”

Not a chance. The pain wasn’t that bad and I didn’t want to be doped. “No, thanks. I’ll be okay—”

Emmy cut me off. “Jo said to be sure you take your pain pills.”

“You heard her,” Doc said. “Don’t make me force feed them to you.” He smiled like he was kidding, but I didn’t think he was. So much for any help from him.

I was hoping I’d convinced Jo I was on her side now, but I wouldn’t have blamed her if she thought I was nine-tenths medicine show. If she wanted me drugged I was more determined than ever to stay alert. Doc watched while I slipped the pills between my lips. I tucked them into my cheek. I’d spit them out when everyone went away.

Except that they started to dissolve almost immediately. They tasted like dead water laced with industrial acid. This job was cursed.

Now Emmy was moving about, opening drawers, patting the clothing inside. She found the only other weapon I’d hidden in my room, another laser. They’d probably want to search my car, too. Or try to. They’d have to break into it first. I’d had it fitted with a super-lock, keyed to my handprint, that would give them some trouble. I could only hope they wouldn’t wreck the car in the process. And if they did get in, they’d be disappointed. All they’d find would be a few more weapons, including my last laser, a few wallets with various amounts of cash, some dried food. A capsule player.

I hadn’t taken my sys that morning. It was in the pocket of another pair of pants hanging in the closet. It was no longer a secret that I had access to very nice tech, but I didn’t want to lose the sys and, with it, any chance I had to call for help. Emmy went to the closet, ran her hands along the clothing hanging there. Including the pants where I’d hidden the sys. She didn’t find it, shut the closet door, looked under the bed, scowled, and went out again.

When the doctor finally left, many stitches later, I was alone in the room. I could hear my guards chatting with each other, shuffling around. Sitting, standing, shoving a chair back against the wall. All I heard were mumbles; I’d have to get up and listen at the door if I wanted to distinguish more than a word or two.

I felt pretty good. The pills had dulled the pain. I was stitched and bandaged and on the edge of starting to heal. The punctures hurt the worst. Especially the one near my elbow. Still, the joint was intact. I’d been lucky. I swung my legs over the edge of the bed. Oops. Dizzy.

I stood and tottered to the door, the shirt Emmy had wrapped around me flapping. I fumbled with the buttons and got two more fastened. Steadying myself with a hand on the wall, I pressed my ear against the wood.

Emmy’s voice. “Mumble how long we have to mumble.”

A man I couldn’t identify. One of the cashiers, maybe, I didn’t remember his name. Oh yeah. Quinn. I’d seen him in the clearing during the battle. He answered, “Till someone else mumble mumble.” Somebody sat down hard on a chair, scraping the leg against the floor.

“Why is she mumble?”

“Spy. That’s what Zack says.”

A surprised “Oh!” from Emmy.

“I don’t get it,” Quinn said. “She fought mumble.”

“What else would a spy do?” Her words were loud and clear this time. She sounded angry. Hey, Emmy— let’s not forget that I saved your life!

I pulled the door open, not a thought in my head about what I’d do out there. I wanted to be gone, one way or another. Jo had drugged me and Emmy sounded like she might shoot me on sight. I’d fight my way past them. I’d make my stand in Redwood. I’d— what was I doing? They both jumped, he out of his chair, tipping it to the floor. Yes, it was Quinn, all right. Pale blond, almost white hair, streaked with bright pink. Fuzzy white eyebrows. About 40 years old. He was scrambling to get upright again. I realized that he’d gotten blurry and that I was staring at him for no reason. I yanked my stuporous eyes away from him and toward Emmy, who was pulling a pistol out of the waistband of her pants.

She looked really burned, glaring at me, her lips tight. “Rica, you just go back in your room and go to bed. Doctor’s orders.” She pointed the gun at my midsection.

“Emmy…”

“You heard me, Rica. I don’t want to hurt you.” That was nice. I didn’t want to hurt her either, unless I had to, in which case—

Only not right now. A sudden wave of dizziness. Nausea. My head felt thick and full of lumpy pea soup and my legs wobbled even when I was standing still.

“I’m supposed to be training my replacement in the restaurant.” That was pathetic. They didn’t say oh, well, in that case, go ahead downstairs, Rica. Instead, silent, they watched me like I was melting on the floor. Another thought. “What time is it? I have to do a show tonight.” I knew I wasn’t making any sense but my mouth kept talking anyway. Hoping something would change, reality would shift and they’d let me stagger away.

They both looked at me like my mind was gone.

“It’s just past noon,” Quinn said. “I don’t know if you’ll be performing tonight,” he added, reasonably, gently. Talking to a lunatic.

The pills that had dissolved in my mouth had left it feeling slick and nasty. It suddenly occurred to me that I’d left the room without my sys. How could I leave without that?

No weapons, no brain, and body unstable. But I couldn’t stay here, totally helpless. Everything in me, or what was left of me, rebelled at that helplessness. I staggered back into my room, and went right for my sys.

The chief had betrayed me, but there wasn’t anyone else I could call for help. I made it, slowly, to the closet, dug my sys out of the pants, and, closing myself in, putting two doors between me and my guards, called the chief. No answer.

“Get me the hell out of here, Graybel. I don’t care how, as long as I’m alive. Wounded in battle with Scorsi forces today, drugged, weaponless. Confined to my room. Come and get me.”

Even as I spoke the words, I doubted there was any point in saying them. She was afraid to cross the Colemans directly, maybe always had been. I suspected that she was listening to my message and deciding, right now, that it wouldn’t be smart to help me. As for Newt, even if he still thought I was working for him he wouldn’t do anything, either, no point in asking. I was no good to him if I left.

I dropped my sys into my pants pocket and forced my mind to focus on getting away. The window seemed to be out of the question. There was nothing like a fire escape and I’d never been able to get it open more than eight inches. I tried it again, though, heaving at it, stumbled over my own feet, and fell to the floor, bumping my arm. Even with the pills, that was agony. I thought about breaking the window. Would the guards hear that? Did I have enough sheets and blankets and towels to make a three-story rope? And if I did, could I shimmy down the stupid thing with one good arm? Maybe. The question then became could I shimmy down the stupid thing without falling on my befuddled head? I figured my odds were fifty-fifty. That Jo would or would not decide to kill me, and that I would or would not fall on my head. Even if I got as far as my car, I’d have to avoid crashing into the nearest tree.

I didn’t get a chance to try any of it. The door opened again and the Coleman sisters walked in, shutting it firmly behind them. I’d already been searched, so after a second’s panic, I relaxed. They wouldn’t do it again so they wouldn’t find the sys in my pocket. Unless of course it buzzed. The panic came back.

“How are you feeling, Rica?” Judith asked. She was carrying a newspaper.

“Fine.” I was still sitting on the floor near the window.

She laughed. “You look like hell.”

“Thanks.” What was this, some kind of softening-up torture?

“Here—” she reached down, took my good arm, and helped me to the bed, laying the paper beside me. “—something to entertain you. You can read all about how the Rockies are planning to invade.”

I glanced at the big black headline: Rocky Planning Conquest of Sierra and Redwood!

“Jo and I have been discussing your future.” And whether I had one, I thought. “What were you getting paid for this invasion of our privacy?” What a quaint way to put it. I told her, adding a few hundred reals for good measure. She glanced at Jo and sat down in the bedside chair.