Alien Blues (29 page)

Pale yellow light wavered across his foot, and striped his leg and hip. David winced when the light hit his eyes.

“Silver.” The voice caressed him, and the light went out.

David's cry amounted to little more than a moan, and Santana's hand was across his mouth before he could call out. Santana crouched over him, his silky lips warm on David's ear.

“Did you forget that I promised you pleasure, my cop? A taste was all you had. I have a programmed pleasure for you, if you want it.”

David bit hard, teeth latching onto Santana's soft palm. He tasted sweat and dirt. Santana slammed his fist into David's side. David gagged.

Dead Meat barked frantically on the other side of the wall.

“What the fuck, you stupid dog! He ain't in the goddamn rock!”

David closed his eyes.

“Shhh, now, shhhh, Silver. I'll give you a choice. Call for help, if you like. Or take the Diamond. I have it right here.”

Santana rattled a packet.

“What will it be, my cop?”

He took his hand away from David's mouth.

David licked his lips. He needed to call out, warn Mel. But the Diamond would take the pain away, let him breathe. He could go back to that good place, and get out of this one, just one more time …

He raised a hand to hit the wall when he yelled. But he did not yell. He dropped his hand slowly, curling the fingers into a fist.

Santana laughed softly. “I thought so. You are no different, my cop. No different.”

He opened the packet, and David felt the warmth of Santana's breath as the black dust misted in his face.

FORTY-SIX

Santana had David's ankles, and was dragging him backward through the wormhole. Santana held a flash in his mouth, and David watched the patterns of light on the wall.

His hearing was suddenly very acute. He could hear the shift and groan of rock in the tunnel.

Santana stopped, easing David's legs gently to the floor.

“They have to find you, Silver, before you decompose.” Santana kissed him gently. “Good-bye, my cop.”

David squinted his eyes. Santana had left him at the end of the wormhole, and he had a clear view of the main tunnel. He heard the echo of voices.

“It was close to here. Davie sent us out through the wormhole.”

“How many of these prowlers were there?”

David frowned, wondering if he was imagining his wife's voice. Maybe not. Rose and Haas were getting too tangled up in this case. Why had Mel let them come? Why hadn't he gotten backup from Halliday?

“I don't think I remember how many. Lots of them.”

David heard their footsteps, their breath moving through their lungs, the hiss of blood that moved through their veins like liquid silk.

“Ah. This is bad.” Haas's voice. “Who is this?”

David closed his eyes, watching himself spin in the darkness.

“Her neck's been snapped,” Rose said. “So Santana's here.”

“You can't be sure it's Santana, Rosy.”

“I'm sure.
Where
is Mel?”

“Back a ways, fooling with Hilde.”

“She's as likely to be on the trail of a rat as she is to be after David.”

“Bertie, where does this tunnel lead?”

David rolled his head to one side. Painful. It wasn't supposed to hurt.

“It leads outside,” Bertie said. “The tunnel rats use it a lot. Davie wouldn't go back there. Davie knows better.”

The voices receded. David opened his mouth and watched a clear silver bell escape between his lips.

Rose's voice drifted back.

“I don't
know
what I heard. No, go on. We need to cover as much as we can, as fast as we can.”

Rose was moving cautiously. David saw shadows, too many shadows. Somebody else was out there.

“Hello, Rose.”

David heard her intake of breath.

“Hello, Santana.”

“Enjoying your retirement? Been a long time since … the old days. God, the memories. You, me, and Monolo. Pretty Monolo. Not so pretty there at the end, eh? Now I wonder, Rose, why you married a cop. No, don't do that. Don't rush me. Kill me, and you won't find him. I'm the only one who knows where your Silver is.”

David listened, but Rose didn't say anything. He could hear her breath coming in deep gulps.

Something flapped, like a sail in the wind.

“See what I have, Rose? Do you recognize his coat?”

Rose had stopped breathing so hard, David realized. He couldn't hear her breathing at all.

“You could give it away, maybe, after you get the bloodstains out. I'm afraid there are a lot of those. But I got to know him, your husband. A man in pain is so revealing. He is funny, your David. Laughs at odd things and …”

Rose screamed, and screamed again, and the shrill echoes shattered the silence of the tunnels and brought a chill to David's back.

Footsteps pounded through the passageways. A dog barked and snarled, toenails sliding on the stone floor. David inched forward, turning his head so he could see.

Haas rounded the bend. David saw figures moving behind him.

“
Rose
! Rosy, what—”

Haas straightened suddenly, his expression oddly bland and uncaring. Light glinted on a metal handle that protruded from his back. He crumpled and fell forward.

David looked for Santana, but couldn't find him. Rose cradled Haas in her lap, oblivious to the women who moved swiftly and silently toward her. David started to crawl. He had his head and shoulders out of the wormhole when he heard a bark and a snarl. Dead Meat tore into the tunnel, hurling herself at one of the women—the blonde.

Mel was right behind the dog, holding an empty leash.

“
Rose? Rose
! Jesus Christ.”

The dark-haired woman went for him.

“
There's
Davie!” Bertie lumbered into view. “Boy, Davie, you sure are trouble, just like the old days.”

Dead Meat yelped and fell. Blondie aimed a kick at the dog's head and Bertie grabbed her arm. She moved sideways. Bertie's eyes widened and he crumpled.

Mel's gun went off and the dark-haired woman hit the floor. Blondie picked herself up off Bertie's chest.

“Shit,” Mel said. He fired and missed, and she grabbed him in a headlock, knocking his gun to the floor and bringing her knife to his throat. Dead Meat snarled and snapped, biting the woman's calf.

“
R-Rose
,” Mel sounded almost annoyed.

The woman twisted sideways, away from the dog's teeth. Mel broke her hold, and slammed a fist into her stomach. She staggered backward, tripped over Dead Meat, and hit the floor. Mel kicked her savagely, the sweet spot on the side of her head. She quit moving.

Mel leaned against the wall, breathing hard. He shook his head and looked at David. “You weren't kidding, huh? When you said your neighborhood was tough?”

Dead Meat whimpered and licked Haas's ear. She circled three times, settled beside him, and put her head between her paws.

FORTY-SEVEN

The tunnels were rife with movement. David opened his eyes, then closed them. Mel was lifting him up.

“Come on,” Mel said, “over you go.
God
.” Mel groaned.

“Leave him, son, put him back down there.” Marion's voice. “I want a look.”

Soft, cool hands.

“There's a radio in my car,” Mel said. “But I'm not leaving them down here while—”

“You ain't got a car, by now. And even if you call, last ambulance come down here got stripped in fifteen minutes, driver beaten to death.”

“They got to meet us,” Mel said. “Violation of the Critical Personnel Act of 2036, we're talking big fines and prison terms. And cops are right at the top of the list.”

“They won't come, son. And it's your friend, the Hun, here, I be worried about. Can you pass him off—teacher, doctor, social worker—”

“Liquor store owner,” someone said.

“Just don't say lawyer,” came another voice. “Then he couldn't get buried.”

There was a ripple of laughter.

“His name is Haas,” Mel said. “Can we move him?”

“I got the bleeding stopped. He's a big boy, ain't he? And I got a good pulse. But this knife wound is bad. Severed nerves right along the spine. He needs critical care, but I don't rate his chances. We
shouldn't
move him, but we got no choice.”

“I can
get
somebody down here, lady.”

“You know what medical supplies bring on the black market in Little Saigo? Ain't no phones working, either. City's full of looters right now. Which is good, friend, 'cause otherwise the tunnel rats would have been here by now. But it ain't safe to stay here, so get out the way of my people.”

“I can carry him. My partner needs—”

“Hospital. I
see
that, son. Broken clavicle, broken ribs, possible skull fracture, probably internal bleeding and lacerated organs. Not to mention his vitals are a mess. His heart don't slow down, he going to explode. So we take him up to the surface, there's
private
tunnels, lead surprising places. Maybe we can get the medics to meet us there. If they meet us at all. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Now here's the way it's gon' be. Bertie's mine. He be okay, I'll look after him. That blond prowler who hit him stays here too, and no question. The brunette one dead, so we leave her.”

“I can't do that.”

“I ain't asking permission, son.”

David heard clothing rustle and old bones pop. “You two. Take this one here.”

“Look, lady, Miss Marion, the best—”

“Hush, boy, I'm busy.” David felt hands under his arms, lifting him. “Kiff, you and Ben take the big guy. Keep him facedown, and gentle as you can.”

A dog snarled.

“Whoa. Hey, get your hands off.”

“What?” Mel's voice again. “You want to bring this place down around your ears?”

“For shooting a dog? I eat dog.”

“Don't brag in front of my sister. And don't mess with the dog. Come on, girl, we're not going to hurt him. Come on. That's good. Okay, baby, good dog, good girl. All right I got her, I got her. Come on, Rose, get your dog. Hold her for me, okay? Rose, wake up, will ya?”

David twisted sideways, but the men carrying him held him still.

“Get it moving, folks.”

Light glared in his eyes, then faded. David grimaced, and the man holding his shoulders tightened his grip. They were moving through the passages, and David's left foot kept catching the wall. He wished the two men carrying him would get their rhythm coordinated.

He sang “Hatikvah” very quietly.

The man carrying his shoulders peered at him. “Why you singing, friend? What you on?”

“He got the
pretty
, he does.”

David felt indignant. “
People
sing,” he said. “It's Elaki can't carry a tune.” He heard String's voice suddenly, loud in his head.

Who is this Jack Cracker
?

“‘Take me out to the ball game,'” David sang.

“That's one I know,” said the man at his feet. “Daddy taught me that one.”

He joined in, their voices mixing with the scuffle of feet on stone. “‘Take me out to the park. Buy me some peanuts ….'”

David stopped singing, not noticing that the other man carried on without him. Peanuts. Peanuts? And the memories collided—the strange male voice in the Ambassador. “Not your problem,
Peanut
.” Myer down at vice—“I ain't interested in what you want to do with
peanut
butter.” The voices were one and the same. Myer had been in the Ambassador.
Myer
.

“Myer,” David said.

“Say what?”

“Peanuts.”

“Song makes you hungry, don't it? Sounds good to me too. Surprised
you
want anything. I get beat up like you, lose my appetite for a long time.” The man sighed. “Wish I knew what you
on
.”

FORTY-EIGHT

The barn had exploded during the tornado, and piles of splintered grey wood were strewn across the field. One of the trees had been uprooted and tossed on its side, and loose branches lay like broken arms.

The old barn was a landmark, a haven. David had expected to care when it went. He did not feel sorry that the barn was gone, and he did not feel grateful that his house, and the newer barn beside it, still stood.

He sat down in the grass and rested. Even a short walk tired him. The afternoon naps would be difficult to give up. He rubbed his shoulder. He was a new man—literally. Nano machines had rebuilt the broken bones; reknit the cracked ribs, the chipped teeth. He still ached a lot—phantom pain, the doctors insisted, like when people used to lose limbs. Which didn't make it hurt any less.

He would be careful not to break anything ever again. Five days in the hospital had been tedious as hell, even in a private room with police priority and medical science at his disposal.

Haas still waited on critical hold, at the bottom of the medical priority list, losing more and more physical function with each passing hour. His right leg was paralyzed, he could not sit up, and the now limited mobility of the left leg was fading. He drifted in and out of consciousness, and the last time David had checked, Haas had settled into a light coma.

David envied the coma. He himself had suffered too many visitors. People had found the opportunity to drop in and inquire, oh, so casually, about the “programmed” high Santana had given him. The word was out.

He still had headaches. Aftermath of the drug and the concussion, according to the Elaki neurologist. Sometimes, when his head was tight and pounding, he heard weird sounds, odd roaring. Thinking about it made his head ache. He got up and headed home.

The storm had taken shingles off the roof of his house, and ripped a drainpipe from one side. More problems that he did not have the energy to see to. His footsteps thumped the wood porch. The front door was unlocked.