Son of Sedonia (9 page)

Liani, suddenly sweating and nauseous, took her cue to leave. She stepped out of the lavatory and tensed. John Kabbard and the other two guards stopped at the end, opened the double doors, and stepped inside. They hadn’t seen her. Liani puffed a sigh and stepped into the main corridor.

Halfway thinking about the next ‘Knock-Knock,’ she froze. Looked up. Schaefer stood in the hall, paler than he’d appeared before. He started to key his throat mic. Hesitated.

“Please...” Liani said. Schaefer scowled at her. Stepped aside.

“You’re lucky I want to keep my job.”

“Oh my God, thank y—”

“Get the fuck out,” Schaefer said. Liani trotted past him with tears in her eyes.

Outside, Corey sat on the steps by the landing deck, dabbing a bloody nose. He shot up when he saw her beside the guard.

“Liani! Are you...are you okay?” he asked. Liani felt dizzy. Half-dreaming.

“What the fuck happened in there?!” said Corey. ”You said ‘news’ not…not
this
...
Li!
” Corey touched her shoulder.

“Huh? What? Oh...I was wondering if you were listening,” she took a breath. Made eye contact. “How much did you see?”

“Enough. Had your ring’s audio feed up until they wiped my recent History. You know what could happen to us if—”

“
Of course I do!
” she hissed, “and it almost fucking happened to me in there!”

A hush fell over them as they tried to casually walk past the other reporters to their vehicle on the far end of the landing deck. Corey adjusted the strap of his equipment duffel, and leaned slightly over to her

“
So...what do we do with it?
”

“I have
no
idea.”

8

Opportunity

LOOKING FOR T99S
on a Friday night, you went to Ninetown.
The
Palace
. The closest thing to a dance club in the Slums mixed with the protection of a fortress. The bass throbbed through graffiti-laced, reinforced concrete walls. Armed guards kept watch in sheet steel towers and patrolled behind sand-bag walls along the roof-line. The T99s showed up by the hundreds. Some stood in line wearing their best designer clothes, gold necklaces, and assault rifles. Others hung out by the custom bikes and cars parked in rows along the street.

Matteo noticed the girls first. Glistening bodies of tan, brown, and black barely dressed in bright colors. They clung close to the T99s, ignoring any man without the Mark on his shoulder. He smelled their sweet, rich perfumes as they walked by without a glance in his direction. Matteo pictured the seeds back home in their hiding place. He sped up.
Just get this over with.

He knew the line to get in was off-limits. Instead, he picked out a group of gangsters sitting on their bikes by the main Palace wall. He took in a deep breath, stuck out his chest, and walked toward them. The girls noticed him this time, but their glossy pink and red lips curled at the sight.

“Check out this
nasty
Pitta’ Rat comin’ up in here!”

“He all covered in dirt an’ shit, look!” Their laughs and giggles took some of the wind out of Matteo’s chest. He hesitated mid-stride, fighting the urge to turn around and storm off into a dark alley somewhere. Then he heard them say it.

“Oki, maybe he wants to sell you some shit in his ratty ass bag,” one of the girls squawked.
Oki. Mother. Fucking. Oki.
The chubby boy who’d ripped the oxygen tube out of Matteo’s nose had grown into a much larger T99 thug. He was built like one of those ‘gorillas’ from an article Matteo had read.
Not extinct after all.
To make matters worse, there was a familiar girl perched on Oki’s lap. Raia’s blue eyes were a dead giveaway, studying Matteo in that same unreadable way. She had grown up. Filled out. Each time she moved, she had to hold her short skirt to keep from exposing herself. Oki’s hand kept finding ways to make that difficult.

“Yeah? What’s up, Pitta’ Rat?” Oki said. He lifted Raia, set her aside, and stood up. “What’chu got for me?”

Matteo turned his face down and away. Hopefully Oki would take it for respect, and wouldn’t look too close.

“Don’t be shy!” Oki looked back and chuckled to the other T99s. Matteo stayed quiet. His mind raced a hundred miles-an-hour looking for something to say. A way out. Anything. Only anger came to him. Oki shrugged and stepped closer.

“What was that?” Oki leaned forward with a hand cupped by his ear, “you say I can
have
it? For
free
? Ah, thanks Pitta’ Rat!” He reached for the bag over Matteo’s shoulder. Matteo stepped back.

“I said—THANKS!” Oki’s fist rammed into Matteo’s stomach. Sickening agony doubled him over on the concrete. The bag was plucked from his back and upended, dumping the contents on the ground. Amidst the switches, wiring, and pipe, an aluminum canister clattered on the ground. Oki squinted at it through close-set eyes. Then opened them wide.

“Naw,” he rolled Matteo over with the toe of his high tops and glared at the wincing face.

“HAH! It is! Mother fuckin’
Wheezy
! How you been, kid? Last time I saw you, your baby-sittin’ brother pulled a gun on me!” Oki craned his neck and looked around the Friday night crowd in the street.

“Don’t see no brother this time!” He crow-hopped and kicked Matteo in the ribs. Under the blinding pain, Matteo felt and heard the crack. Oki crouched beside him.

“Ohhh, now I remember. He got picked up that night, right? Heard they beat him bloody, too,” he laughed. Jogun’s broken body flashed into Matteo’s mind. The smile through the swollen mouth and shattered jaw. For a moment, his pain and Jo’s seemed the same. He rolled to see Oki laughing and shouting back at the others. Pain spilled into rage. His hand swept across the concrete and bumped into something round, cold, and metallic. His fingers closed around it, and he rose to his feet.

As Oki turned, the air canister cracked him square in the temple, knocking him off of his heels. The T99s back at the bikes all stood at once, submachine-guns and pistols in hand. Raia scurried back behind them with the other girls. She cupped her hands over her mouth. Turned away. Oki shook his bleeding head and staggered.

“Shoot this mothe—”

A metal door swung open from its graffiti camouflaged place on the wall. All heads spun to see two Black Hoods step out. Black track pants, black shoes, and black sleeveless pullovers with hoods drawn up. ‘T99’ appeared bold and dark on the right shoulders, surrounded by the triangular outline of a hood. Everyone with a gun in Oki’s troupe switched on the safety and lowered it. The Hoods walked straight to Matteo.

“Yeah, take this piece of shit to Suo—”

A backhand from one of the Hoods shut Oki’s mouth, splitting his lip. The big Hood’s size and chiseled muscles made Oki look scrawny.

“Pick up this brother’s belongings and put them back in the bag,” the big Hood said in a low and cold voice as his partner lifted Matteo to his feet. Matteo coughed and watched in amazement. Oki wiped blood from his face, stooped, gathered every last bit of scrap on the ground, and put it back in the satchel. The big Hood inspected Oki’s work then snatched the bag from him.

“Suomo wants you to know if you beat on a Pit worker again, expect to be dealt with permanently.”

Matteo glanced at the fear etched on Oki’s broad features. The same look of terror he’d made years ago in front of Jogun’s gun.
At least I got to hit him this time.
The thought of laughing made his ribs ache, so he settled for a sideways grin as they led him through the painted door and pulled it shut.

Inside, his grin faded, replaced with a blank stare. Beyond a low, neon graffiti-tagged divider, the Palace interior pulsed with colors, bodies, sweat, and thumping rhythm. The music, while loud outside, seemed to drive through his chest in here with lyrics rhyming in strange, garbled languages. Lights pulsed and swirled around the room, casting neon rays through the hot, wet, smoky air. He could smell the liquor and herb as if he was drinking and smoking. Making sense of the surging crowd took a moment. He saw a girl with her back pressed to a young T99. She traced her hands up her slick, wet sides to her bikini top, reached back, and wrapped them around the T99’s head as he leaned in to kiss her neck. Matteo watched the T99’s gold rings sparkle on his fingers as they traveled down the girl’s stomach and under her low-riding waistband.

A nudge made Matteo jump. He had started sweating. The Black Hoods nodded up toward a catwalk that ringed the club’s interior. Matteo stole glances down at the crowd below as he climbed the stairs, drinking in what details he could. The dancing girls in glowing body paint made it hard to watch his step on the catwalk, and he tripped soon enough. The big Hood picked him up. There was something not unlike a smile on the man’s concrete face.

“Eyes front, kid.” he said into Matteo’s ear. They reached a thick hatch door at the far end of the dance hall where two more Black Hoods stood guard. The Hoods nodded to each other and the door opened. Matteo tried to draw in a deep breath but it made him cough. Weak, wheezing memories entered. He clenched his fists.

“Mother fucker, admit it! You messed up!” shouted a voice in the Boss’s upper room. “Now you gon’ have to pay for
that
shit!” The Black Hoods rushed inside with pistols drawn. Matteo ducked behind the big one.

“Whoa whoa whoa! Y’all some nervous thugs, brother, I’ll tell ya that!” the voice said. Both Hoods relaxed, holstered their pistols, and took the drinks that were handed to them. Suomo looked much like Matteo remembered, only now wearing finely-sewn baggy clothes of bright white and navy blue. Gold and silver bracelets clinked on his wrists as he spun a long, smooth stick. He leaned over a thick table topped in green and aimed the stick at the shiny round balls that sat there. Matteo cocked his head at the strangeness of it. The balls clacked as they struck one another, sending two on the far end into corner pockets.

“Hell
yes, you gon’ pay! Ha HA!” Suomo laughed at another well-dressed T99 seated by the bar, likewise holding a long smooth stick. The man shook his head and took a drink from a brown glass bottle.

“My man, take a seat on the couch over there, I’ll be right wit’chu,” Suomo said, spotting Matteo in the doorway. Matteo turned to see the L-shaped couch in the corner and the three incredibly hot girls who sat on it. Their tight bodies sank into the soft, shiny red cushions. One of them patted an empty space for him. He tensed. The girls in Oki’s gang had made fun of his dirty clothes. He tried his best to brush himself off and summon some courage. At last, he willed one foot in front of the other, turned, and lowered himself between two of the girls. His heart seemed to pound up into the back of his throat.
At least none of them got blue eyes
.

“Ooh, what happened to your poor shoulder?” said one with short raven hair and long smooth legs. She traced the scar tissue with a fingertip. Goosebumps spread down Matteo’s shoulder, chest, back, and arm.

“I—I, uh,” his voice shook.
It was a counter-top falling from a garbage scow. I was digging through the Pits for food.
The truth sounded ridiculous. Pathetic.

“It was an EXO.” The words came out on their own. They seemed to work. All three girls listened now, and the blonde made a show of gasping.

“You’re so brave! I dunno what I’d do if I was face-to-face with one of them.”

“Yeah...up...
close
,” the raven haired girl rubbed her bare leg on his.

“YEAH! THAT’S RIGHT! Pay up,
fool
!”

Matteo jerked at Suomo’s victory shout, and his shoulder cracked a girl under the chin. Her teeth made a loud ‘clack.’

“Oh shit! Shit, I’m s-so sorry! Are you okay?” Matteo babbled. The raven-haired girl rubbed her chin and moved her jaw side-to-side. The other two girls couldn’t stop cackling.

Suomo ignored the noise. He collected his winnings and walked over to the couch.

“Aight, y’all, take a walk. Gotta talk with my man here,” said Suomo. All three got up. The two uninjured girls turned and waved a giggling goodbye to Matteo as they walked out the hatch. He wanted to sink into the couch.

“
You
are Jogun’s little brother!” said Suomo. Matteo sat upright at the name. Suomo grinned. “Yeah...I thought so. ‘Cept
damn
, boy, you grew
up
! Got strong. That’s good little brother, real good.” Suomo snapped his fingers and the big Hood at the door brought over two short glasses filled with brown-red liquid and ice.
Ice!
Matteo took the glass. Studied it. Felt the coolness of it. He took a sip and swallowed. The burning in his throat shocked him, taking his breath away. He fought down the urge to cough.

“
Jo
, man...miss that motherfucker, I do. Good dude to have at your back. Smart. Honest.
Loyal
. Been what? 6 years since they grabbed him?”

Matteo nodded.

“Damn...but look at’chu, man! He was always so worried about what’s gon’ happen to you, and here I just saw you knock that fool Oki in his skull
with
his whole dumbass crew watchin’!” Suomo pointed to the monitors on the wall. CCTV footage streamed in from places all over the club, inside and out. Suomo took a swig of his drink.

“Takes stones, kid...big ones. But anyway, yeah. What’chu got for me?”

Matteo leaned up and looked at his bag by the door. Suomo, drink in mouth, waved for it to be brought over. Matteo took it and pulled it open. Switches, copper wire, batteries, and pipe all clattered around. Suomo reached in and took out a light switch.

“Nice work, little brother. Clean strip job. Nothin’ bent, twisted, snapped...solid.” Suomo tossed the bag to the Black Hood.

“Get a Runner to take that on over to Oki an’ his crew tomorrow. Teach that fool some respect.”

“Wait—” Matteo stuttered. Suomo raised an eyebrow at him. “The bag...it was Jo’s.” Matteo’s chest tightened. Interrupting a T99 boss was bad enough, but trying to block a command... Suomo just nodded and looked him square in the eyes.