Chimera (28 page)

"Sure," I said, still taking inventory. None of the cuts seemed deep, but my coveralls would call for major mending, and I wouldn't be carrying anything heavy with my left arm for a while.

"Okay, then." The archangel walked away as Zoe came back with a medical kit.

She began swabbing my cuts. I winced while she dabbed at my left arm, but she ignored that. "Why the fuck did you sign up?"

"To get you out."

Her eyes widened, then narrowed. "Forget it."

"I can't."

"I don't want to see you doing time—"

"I left getting caught out of the plan."

The archangel yelled over at us, "Don't take all day!"

Zoe shouted, "He's almost ready!" Helping me stand, she said softly, "What's this plan?"

"Breaking out and not getting caught." I shrugged. "I'm open to suggestion on the finer details."

"Last warning!" the archangel called.

"Okay," Zoe whispered, and she ran back to join her crew.

I worked the rest of the day. Not quickly, but no one minded. The other diggers looked out for me, seeing that I mostly carried lighter things and worked parts of the pit that were believed to be stable. If I'd felt stronger, I might've resented that, but it felt good.

Phoenix Camp also had two food lines. I chose the credit line and ordered a big bowl of pumpkin ravioli and another of beef stew. Zoe was heading for the camp line when she saw me. "You're hungry."

I nodded at the stew. "That one's yours."

She looked at me. "I've been eating Nutrigruel every day I've been in."

"Ditto. Now we've got something to celebrate."

She shrugged. "Sure. We're both going to get ten years added to our sentences."

"All the more reason to enjoy your food," I said. "We won't get the option if they catch us."

Humans and chimeras stayed apart in this camp, too. Zoe and I sat at a table by the wall, and whatever sympathy I'd earned that afternoon burned away as the other indentures saw us breaking the unwritten law. I was grateful. We couldn't have made plans with people around us.

Zoe said, "Do you have anything in mind?"

"Steal a vehicle and head for Minnesota."

"After getting rid of the Little Angels?"

"Of course."

"Every highway cop in Arizona would be after us. There aren't many roads out of here."

"You've got a better idea?"

"Once a week, they fill a trailer with the best pickings and send it to L.A."

"You want to go back there?"

She shook her head. "That's where the truck goes. Might be easier to get to Minnesota from there than here."

"If they didn't know we were in the trailer."

"Which is why we'd have to convince them we were somewhere else."

"How well do they guard the trailer?"

"They don't. They keep it locked. Plenty of alarms would go off if you mess with its doors. And they made sure everyone knows it's air-tight. Even if we got rid of the Little Angels, we'd suffocate in a few hours. Well before we got to L.A., anyway."

"When's the next one go?"

"Mañana. Anywhere between dawn and eight."

"Too soon."

"Wait a week?"

"At least. We should know everything we can."

She shrugged. "I was figuring on thirty-six years. A week or two's fine."

"Good. Apple pie?"

"With ice cream?"

I nodded.

She grinned. "My hero."

Fetching dessert from the credit line, I decided that I'd made too many assumptions about Zoe. Saving my life didn't mean anything more than that she felt obligated to me. Escaping from the camp would remove all obligations between us, and that'd be best for both of us. The camp would freeze my bank accounts when I broke their contract, but that'd be fine. Freedom's always better than money.

After dinner, we went for a walk. The abandoned golf course and its slowly evaporating lake lay to the east. Toward the last red rays of sunset stood cacti like an army of waving men. As we watched the sun disappear, I told her everything that happened after my death. The desert night grew cool, but it was better to be alone in the dark and cold with Zoe.

We had started to compare notes about life at Duggan and Phoenix when our Little Angels beeped twice. We weren't close to the camp's perimeter, which meant that someone with a control wand wanted us to stay where we were.

Which we did. Zoe looked a question at me; I raised both eyebrows in ignorance. She turned to look past me, so I turned too. Across the road, silhouetted against the open door behind her, Carol O'Grady stood on the steps of her mobile home and idly tapped a control wand against her thigh. "Maxwell. Domingo. Come here." As we obeyed, she said, "What were you talking about?"

Zoe said, "Just catching up on life."

"I hope you had fun." O'Grady looked at me. "You're taking the truck back to Duggan tomorrow."

"Why?"

"I'd think you'd be grateful. I heard you don't like heat."

"I'll get used to it."

"I don't think so. You were both wanted for Amos Tauber's murder."

"That's been cleared up."

"Maybe. But you'll stay separated until I know more."

I glanced at Zoe. Her hands formed tight fists. I lifted my right arm toward O'Grady. "You know what this is?"

"An Infinite Pocket." She frowned. "Why?"

I opened it. When an archangel had given me a blink test after work, I testified that I hadn't put anything valuable or dangerous in it. Black pepper from yesterday's lunch sprayed into O'Grady's face.

She coughed and fumbled with the control wand. Zoe snatched it from her grip as I clapped a hand over O'Grady's mouth and said, "Don't struggle, and there'll be no accidents." No one sounded a alarm as I pushed her into her trailer.

O'Grady hadn't cleaned up for company in ages; the living room was strewn with newspapers and fashion vids. A Siamese cat saw us and bolted behind the couch. A professional holographer's portrait of the cat was over a fake fireplace, and several china figurines of Siamese cats had been placed around the cluttered room.

I closed the front door and listened. Still no alarm. None that I could hear, anyway.

Zoe said, "Lights-out in forty minutes."

"Get something to tie and gag her."

Zoe went in the tiny kitchen and returned with a dish cloth and a ball of twine. I stuffed the cloth in O'Grady's mouth and told her, "Relax. Someone'll find you in a couple of hours. The condition they find you in is up to you."

She nodded. I put a few loops around her head and tied them with a square knot to hold the gag in place, cinched her hands behind her back with a series of half-hitches, did the same with her legs, then tied her hands and feet together to turn her into a human bow. Zoe watched my technique. I said, "Boy scouts."

Zoe said, "Badges for bondage. No wonder they're popular."

I jerked my head at O'Grady. "Get her keys and any cash you can find."

The bedroom was less tidy than the living room. O'Grady had one of those fake anti-gravity beds that you can only order from late-night ads. On the table beside it lay a VR helmet and a PleasurePal. It's hard to go through someone's home without learning too much about them.

I found a few five K coins, a 9mm Isher, and a box of bullets in the drawer in the bed table. I tucked the coins in a pocket, then picked up the Isher. Its trigger lock could only be removed by O'Grady or someone with her fingerprints, but it might be useful for bluffing, so I tucked it into the Pocket.

Back in the living room, I saw Zoe had made friends with the Siamese. It leaped out of her arms when I entered. Zoe said, "What about the Little Angels?"

"In a minute. You've got her car keys?"

"Yeah."

"Turn off the lights." Picking up O'Grady as the room went dark, I told her, "If you get hurt, they'll step up the hunt for us. We don't want that to happen."

Zoe said, "Max, this is kidnapping."

"Not exactly. Check outside."

She peeked through the open window, then sniffed. "All clear."

"Open her car. No dome light."

Zoe squinted at the key in her hand and tapped the appropriate buttons. In the yard by the trailer, all four doors of a white Ford RoadStar sprang open.

I carried O'Grady to her car, put her in the back, and hopped in the front. Zoe closed her door. I left mine ajar. There was no moon, but the yard lights let me see her clearly. I wanted to kiss her, but if this proved to be the last I saw of her, I didn't want the memory colored by a rebuff.

I took the car key and started the RoadStar. The computer said, "The driver's door is ajar."

"Yep. What hospital's closest to downtown Tucson?"

"Tucson General."

"When the doors are shut, drive there at maximum speed. If the police order you to stop, inform them that human lives are at risk and do not stop. Understand?"

"Yes."

Zoe looked a question at me. I shook my head and said, "Lean back. This may hurt, but I'll make it fast."

She leaned back. "No comment."

I touched her chin and tilted her head back, then opened the Infinite Pocket and slid its edge across her collar. Zoe gasped, then fell unconscious as her Little Angel realized it was under attack. Somewhere, alarms sounded and guards mobilized, but I focused on the Pocket as it gobbled flexsteel molecules from Zoe's collar. Then I wrenched the Little Angel away from her, dropped it on the floor of the car, and shook her. She sat up, blinking and rubbing her neck. "Better."

I leaned back in the driver's seat, extended my arm toward her, and opened the Pocket. "Take my wrist. You have to cut mine. If you squint, you can see the Pocket's field." Her hands felt nice on my forearm. She peered at my wrist and nodded. "If you cut too close to my skin, the Pocket'll shut down. If that happens, jump out, close the doors, and head cross-country while they chase O'Grady and me."

"But—"

"They know your collar's off. We don't have time to argue." I leaned back and tilted my chin up. Her face came close to mine as she brought my wrist toward my neck. I smiled at her, she smiled at me, and fire ants consumed me.

When I came to, Zoe was grinning down at me, and my Little Angel was on the floor with hers. We got out of the RoadStar, closed its doors, and ran around O'Grady's trailer. I glanced back. The RoadStar sped silently toward the highway and Tucson. I hoped O'Grady enjoyed the ride.

As the car with the Little Angels crossed the camp perimeter, the main emergency sirens sounded. Zoe and I crossed the perimeter, too, but far from the gate, and heading toward desert, not highway. Darkness comforted me, though the thought of stumbling over rattlesnakes or scorpions did not. Zoe began to angle toward the army of saguaro encircling the camp, but I caught her wrist and squatted, pulling her down. She sat on her haunches beside me.

Pursuit vehicles raced by on the road. Since our Little Angels were speeding for Tucson, the reasonable conclusions were that we were still in them, sleeping the deep sleep of the would-be escapee, or that we'd gotten out of them and were holding O'Grady as a hostage. The camp would notify the police, the police would order the RoadStar to stop, and when the car answered that it was going to Tucson on a medical emergency, the cops would arrange for a few police flyers to follow it until it stopped.

Zoe said, "I thought we were going cross-country."

"You were, if you couldn't get my collar off. Where's the trailer to L.A.?"

"We won't suffocate?"

I turned my wrist to show her the Infinite Pocket. "I can empty it of weapons. I can't empty it of air."

We circled the camp. The trailer, your standard silver rectangle that hitches to the back of a semi, sat near the main dig, waiting for a trucker who would fasten it behind two trailers he had already picked up in Tucson and haul them all to Los Angeles. No guards waited by the trailer. No one would sneak a truck through the only road into camp to steal it, and the door alarms would announce any attempt to open it.

The edge of the Pocket's field cut a neat oval in the trailer's steel roof, solving the problem of entrance and silencing my nagging thought that the Pocket might not provide enough air for both Zoe and me. We repositioned the piece of roof I'd cut out, then Zoe led me through total darkness across the tops of tubs of salvaged valuables.

We made a nest of shipping pads at the front of the trailer. After cutting a few extra air holes with the Pocket, I adjusted the shipping pads and stretched out. It wasn't bad, if you ignored the cold night, the musty smell that clung to the contents of the tubs, the tendency of corners of tubs to find the tenderest parts of your body, and the claustrophobic feeling of lying in the dark with a roof less than a foot above your nose.

Zoe said, "What now?"

"I don't know about you, but I'm going to get some sleep."

The transition from wakefulness must've been almost instantaneous. If I dreamed, I don't remember. I woke once when the back doors of the trailer were opened, and light flashed back between the tubs. After the doors were slammed and locked again, I fell back to sleep. Later, I woke when the trailer jerked forward, and the load shifted slightly beneath me. The third time I woke, someone had rolled against me. I smelled Zoe's hair, and put my arm around her, and slept in perfect comfort after that.

Chapter Seventeen

When the truck began stopping and starting repeatedly, I knew we'd hit L.A.'s traffic jams. At one series of stops that lasted especially long, I lifted the roof panel I'd cut, then announced, "Hooray for Hollywood. Come on." I saw the 101 Tollway. The line for the Santa Monica Blvd. tollbooths was barely moving.

We ran to the back of the roof, dropped down, grinned and waved at the startled driver behind the truck, and darted across the traffic lanes. I liked walking up the exit ramp more quickly than the drivers sitting alone in their wheeled steel boxes.

I didn't know if Duggan Enterprises had spread the word that I'd broken my contract, but using my bank account seemed like a bad idea. O'Grady's coins bought two bus tickets. Either our smell or our indenture grays kept people from crowding us. I suppose that was a blessing.