Velvet Dogma About 3300 wds (26 page)

"She isn't dead?"

"On the contrary, she's the mother of three girls and teaches English at Dominguez Hills."

But Rebecca could still see the woman—robe hanging open, sagging breasts, stained underwear, a river of drool falling from the corner of crusted lips. If that wasn't Olga, then who was it?

"There was a death on Melrose however," continued Kumi. "Organ squads responded to an inVid junkie who'd OD'd, but found her organs unusable."

Olga was alive. Her grandma was alive. What was going on? Panic flooded her system. All of the good feelings, all of the warmth that had lingered in her heart turned to ice. She remembered the vid that Andy had taken from David's apartment and given to Panchet. She'd never been able to see it. Even when she'd asked, they'd kept it from her. She'd wondered why at the time, but had never gotten a satisfactory answer. Now she understood. There must have been something on the vid that would have alerted her to the fiction.

She turned inward and stared at the waterfall of her emotions. The deep currents of sorrow were being replaced by something else. Indignation. Anger. Acrimonious thoughts invaded her system. How could Andy have lied to her? She'd trusted him. She'd slept with him.
God
!

"Don't feel bad, Rebecca. Con men like Andy are experts at emotional manipulation. You had no chance. It's better to be angry at him than hate yourself."

"So everything he said, everything we did—"

"Was an effort to get you out of the country and away from the organ squads. See, once he took one of your organs, the organ squads would descend upon your location to claim the others. But out on the Pacific Rim things are a little different. It's the Wild West out there. One can get away with a lot."

"But what about my program? What about Velvet Dogma?"
 
She'd seen it kill people. It had to be real.

"They found your program in year ten of your incarceration. There's no other note on your file other than that."
 
Kumi shrugged and pocketed the vidScreen. "I don't know what else I can tell you, Rebecca. You were had. Frankly, I blame myself for letting you out of my sight. If I'd paid closer attention, if I'd kept you from hurrying to your brother's apartment when he'd died, then you wouldn't be lying here right now with your heart broken."

It had all began with the announcement of her brother's death. Rebecca had convinced the Asian woman to rush out to the apartment. Once there, Andy had come into her life, the Black Hearts had attacked, and things had never been the same again. The Day Eaters. The Ack Acks. The slum. Andy had gone to such extremes. Then she realized that each of those groups represented a counter-culture. They ran beneath the purview of the government. They were criminals, all of them, and perfect foils for her ignorance. After all, she knew nothing about the world. She was a canvas from which was created the most gullible woman on earth—one who not only believed her chaos-hacking program had become something world-changing, but one who believed that she might have found someone to love.

T
hey moved her to a new room, but other than having a bathroom with a shower, it was identical to the one she'd left.

Two hours later, Kumi returned with new clothes, toiletries and a few other odds and ends, not the least being an old fashioned bar of vanilla-scented soap. Rebecca sat on the edge of the bed. Kumi sat on a sofa that had been pushed against the wall that, were this the other room, it would have held the diagnostic equipment.

"It took some doing, but we were able to find a bar."
 
Kumi passed the soap over to Rebecca, who immediately drew it to her nose and inhaled. "Why'd you want it anyway?"

Rebecca shook her head. "You'll think it childish."

"After all you've been through, the last thing I'd think is that you're childish. I'm just curious."

"If you must know, my grandma used this kind of soap. I remember when I'd have a bad day, she'd hug me, and sometimes she'd hold me on the couch for hours, and the smell of vanilla was always there. The smell makes me feel better. It makes me remember that there are those out there who care about me."

"It's funny how the things we smell key different memories."

"They say that smell is responsible for the way food tastes. Without smell, there would be no taste."

"I've heard the same thing. Funny."
 
Kumi touched her nose with her fingertips. "I've always hated my nose."

"Me, too."
 
Rebecca touched her own nose. "I mean
my
nose."

Kumi gestured towards the clothes. "When you get cleaned up, put those on and I'll get you out of this place. I bet you're ready to get your life started finally, aren't you?"

Rebecca remained silent for a moment as she replayed the last few days at hyper-speed. "I am," she sighed. "I just want things to be normal, like I was just anyone with no past and no predetermined future."

"That's how it should be."
 
Kumi started to leave, then turned back. "One more thing. A policeman will be stopping by to ask some questions. I've spoken with him and he knows what happened, so don't be at all worried that you're in trouble. It's nothing at all like that, I promise."

"Then what is it about?"

"They want to talk to you about Abraham."

"Who?" Rebecca knew who, but needed time to think.

"They say you went to the City of the Eaters of the Dead where you met Abraham. They want to know about him. They're hoping you can help them find him."

"What could they possibly want with him?"
 
With no arms and legs how much of a danger could the poor boy be?

Kumi shrugged. "That's not my area, sorry. I'm just the messenger here. Tell you what—when the policeman comes, we'll both ask him."

Rebecca shrugged, then watched Kumi depart. She didn't look forward to talking to the police, but she'd known it would happen sooner or later. Part of her was happy that Kumi was on her side and speaking for her, but another part wondered about Abraham. She'd genuinely liked him. It was clear that he'd been raised to be the Day Eater's spiritual leader and their politics notwithstanding, she didn't want him to come to any harm.

And that was a predicament. Could she protect him? She wasn't sure.

She grabbed the stack of clothes and toiletries and took them into the bathroom. Placing them on the counter, she ran the water until billows of steam obscured the mirror. She undressed and took the soap into the shower, where she spent half an hour beneath the hot water, long enough for her mummy-wrinkled skin to radiate vanilla and figure out the rest of her concern.

A hollow thud filtered from the hallway. Or was it a door slamming shut? She turned her head toward the sound and heard three more muffled thuds, closer than the first. The lights dimmed, but remained on. What was happening?

Rebecca struggled into her pants and stepped from the bathroom. She looked around the room, then headed for the door. She tried the knob, but the door was locked. An explosion knocked her off her feet. Concrete dust fell from the ceiling as the lights blinked out. She coughed as she climbed to her feet, and stood, but in the pitch blackness didn't know which way to go. She took a tentative step with her arms out in front of her, and after several steps she finally found the foot of the bed. She used it for reference and turned towards the door.

Realizing that she was still topless, Rebecca took a moment to shrug on the shirt she'd been holding in her hands. She glanced around the ruthlessly dark room. She couldn't see anything– no trace of light, not even the small service light embedded in the fire alarm. Nothing. What type of natural disaster could kill the power from even the battery back-up? It didn't take her long to figure it out.

Day Eaters
.

They'd sapped power with EMP bombs. The next question was why? For a terrible moment Rebecca imagined them after her, as if they somehow knew she was about to be questioned about Abraham and his whereabouts. But that was impossible—even if they
did
know, she found it hard to imagine that Abraham would do her any harm. She could still picture his beatific smile etched across his face.

Another thump shook the building and she heard escalating screams through the stout metal door. Someone pounded on it from outside, then moved away.
 

Rebecca found herself shifting into a combat stance, feet shoulder-width apart, arms at the ready. If they were coming for her, she wasn't going to go gently. Remembering a book she'd read, she closed one eye. If they shone a light in the room, she'd be blinded. The closed eye was held in reserve, to be opened if the room darkened again so that she could operate in the dark.

She could taste her heartbeat–-
kerthump kerthump
-–the beat filling her mouth, her head. Nervous fingers scraped the back of her stomach.

Suddenly something struck the door shaking it on its hinges. There were more muffled shouts, then a yell of victory. The door shook again. Blinded by the darkness, Rebecca strained her every sense trying to figure out what was going on, trying to be ready. The door shook mightily, then was pushed inward. She tripped back to the edge of the bed as it plummeted to the floor in front of her.

Still she couldn't see. She'd hoped that the power outage was limited to her room, anticipating there would be light in the hallway, but the power loss seemed to be wide scale. But she could feel the open doorway; like someone at the entrance to a cave can feel the airy potential of unknown spaces, she felt the hallway and beyond gaping wide.

A creaking sound jerked her from her trance. Someone was creeping across the surface of the door! Rebecca brought her hands back up and squeezed her fists tightly enough to hurt. The pain made her concentrate. Someone was there in front of her. She wanted to call out and see who it was. She wanted to call for help. But no—she held her tongue. If they were coming for her, this would be how they did it. Determination sprung from her core. She wasn't going to let herself die in this dark and dreary room.

Another creak. Then a breath.

She tumbled to her right where she knew the floor was clear. Her shoulder hit harder than she'd wanted, but she was able to somersault herself to the wall, where she managed to stand again. Listening for her pursuer, Rebecca pressed her back against the wall, her hands in front of her.

Then another sound filled the room.

"
Don't move
."
 
A man's voice, void of emotion.

A flurry of blows was followed by a groan, then a crash as a body hit the floor. Rebecca turned her head left, then right, hoping her ear would recognize the next sound. Who was it?

Another blow was followed by the sound like that of a stout branch snapping, then silence. She knew what had just happened and swallowed hard. The question was whose neck was just snapped and had he been here to attack or rescue her?

There were footsteps headed towards her.

"Hu—hu—hello?"

Nothing. Not a sound.

"I have a knife."
 
She somehow managed not to stutter.

A man chuckled three feet from her.

She stepped to her left.

He mimicked her movement, his feet shuffling across the floor.

She stepped back to her right.

His feet shuffled so she could hear.

"Don't come any closer. I'll sta—stab you."

He chuckled again. "No, you won't."

She jumped to her left and crouched down.

The man mimicked her, then chuckled again, this time the sound coming from her level.

He'd even crouched like her. What kind of game was he playing? Who was he and what did he want?

"I have a knife!" she warned again. But her breathless words held no threat. Her heart hammered desperately.

"No, you don't."
 
He stepped close enough so she could smell his breath, the taint of fish and coffee.

She covered her mouth and nose with the sleeve of her right hand both to keep the stench away, but also to keep from screaming. There was no denying it. He could somehow see in the dark. She rose slowly, and as she did, so did her courage.

"Why are you doing this?" she demanded.

"I was hired."

There was so much threat in those three words. She felt her courage wan. That someone wanted her dead so badly they would hire an assassin made her heart stutter. It was unthinkable. She'd been a simple girl. She was just a woman. Why kill her?

"Why are you doing this?" she asked again. This time her voice wasn't as strong.

"
Because you deserve to die
."

She inhaled sharply as she heard the man lunge.

But instead of attacking her, he screamed as the sudden sizzle and snap of electricity shook him uncontrollably. Sparks lit the room and surrounded the man in an arcane green aura. Sure enough, he was Hei Xin. He wore PODs over his eyes. His body was covered by a black material except for a space at the back of the neck, where the working end of a guard baton was held fast. She followed the slender lance to the hand that gripped it, the arm that wielded it, to the face she knew so well.