Max Collins - Skin Game

She raised both fists, high. “ Is... that... true?”

“ No!” they all yelled — many voices, one voice.

Relief flooded through her — Max had won them over again. Now, while she had them, she needed to get them involved in solving their problems. She lowered her arms, and her voice to a firm, resonable level: “We have some issues we need to deal with.”

They all watched her attentively.

“In order to keep the police and National Guard from attacking,” she said, “I had to promise one of their representatives that none of us would leave Terminal City until this is negotiated.”

She saw several of them trading looks, and she knew what they were thinking: had they gone from being a nation to a gaggle of prisoners? But the reality was, many of them — most of them, in fact — had nowhere beyond the metal-mesh borders of Terminal City to go, anyway.

Oh, a few looked like they wanted to bolt now; but if they were truly united, the others would help persuade them.

She made a mental note to smuggle in some cigars to keep Mole happy.

Again she spoke, her voice ringing off the cement rafters. “They’re also claiming that one of us on the outside is killing ordinaries.”

“So what?” an X3 toward the front blurted.

Max shot him a look that silenced him. “Some of you have seen the news reports of a murderer who is skinning his victims.”

Nods and murmuring were the only response.

“That’s just the sort of crime the antitransgenic forces would love to lay on Terminal City’s doorstep.”

“Are you asking,” an X5 near the front asked, “to turn in one of our own?”

“If we have a maniac among us, yes — for our own safety. If we are a nation, a city, we need to live by the rule of law — and if we have a murderer in our midst, it is no betrayal of ourselves to see him brought to justice.”

The reptilian Mole asked, “Our justice? Or theirs?”

“I don’t have an answer to that yet. That’s something we will decide as a group — it’s day at a time, people. We are learning to walk, here... so be careful not to run.”

Nods again, even from Mole.

“For now, come to me if any of you know anything about this — particularly if there is one of us on the outside so troubled that these atrocities make a terrible kind of sense.”

Again she wheeled around as she spoke to them.

“Remember — the last thing we need right now is for the ordinaries to prove we are the fiends they say we are.” She gestured to her little council of advisors — Alec, Joshua, and Mole — and added, “If you can help, if you know anything, please come to us.”

No one moved, no one spoke; but she had expected as much — that anyone here who came to her with information would do so only after long, private thought.

“Thank you for your courage,” she said, “and your patience — we’re doing the best we can and we’ll make sure that this turns out the way we all want it to.”

The crowd slowly dispersed, conversation echoing off the cement walls... but calm conversation; this was no mob, rather the concerned citizens of Terminal City. It made Max feel proud; still, she knew what she had accomplished in the meeting was all too tentative. The compound remained a powder keg.

Max, Joshua, Alec, and the others headed back to the makeshift headquarters of the media center, and were just entering when Max’s cell phone rang.

“Go for Max.”

“They’re still listening,” the computer-altered voice warned.

Clemente.

“I thought you might call,” she said.

“I thought we had a deal.”

“We do.”

“I’ve seen the news tape — you know which one I mean...”

The detective was referring to Max and Alec leaping that fence to deal with the drunks and the media.

“Yes, I know the tape you mean.”

“And it shows our deal being broken.”

“Technically, perhaps — but we were merely defending our borders. There was no choice. You should see that, too.”

“And which side of that fence were you on?”

“I told you we had no choice. You know damn well we were merely defending ourselves from arsonists.”

“And terrorizing the press? Is that any way to win the PR war?”

“... I hear you.”

“I hope you do. But you’re not winning any points for trust, right now.”

The phone went dead in her ear.

Max settled in to watch tapes of news coverage of the transgenic siege.

And while she did, Joshua tugged Alec by the sleeve and — when Alec only frowned, in confusion — the dog man latched onto his friend by the wrist and led him into the hallway.

The iron grip of the gentle giant always surprised Alec, who gingerly reclaimed his hand and shook it a little.

“You don’t know your own strength, big guy,” Alec said.

Sheepishly, Joshua said, “Sorry. It’s important.”

“What is?”

Joshua began to sway back and forth, agitated. Alec could tell already that this wasn’t going anywhere good...

“I think I know something.”

“I’m sure you do, buddy.”

“I mean... something that would help Max.”

“Well, that’s fine,” Alec said, still having no idea what they were talking about, but rather used to Joshua’s torturous routes to what he had on his mind. “You should help her if you can.”

“Help Max if I can... but Joshua can’t.”

Alec said, “Oh... kay...” As usual, he and Joshua not only were not on the same page, they weren’t even in the same book. “You can help, but you can’t.”

Grinning, an eager puppy now, Joshua said, “Yes. You’ve got it, Alec! I knew you would know what Joshua should do — what should I do?”

“Whoa, boy.” Alec blew out air while he ran a hand through his hair; then he shook his head. “Explain it to me first. How exactly can you help Max?”

“I... know a guy.”

That was a start.

“Okay,” Alec said. “And?”

“And... the guy is passing.”

Alec nodded. He understood — a transgenic passing as human. “Lot of those around. And this helps Max how?”

“Guy might know who’s killing on the outside.”

Alec perked up. “ How would he know?”

Joshua looked at the floor, then up at Alec. “They knew each other at Manticore.”

“They?” Alec asked. My God, this was like pulling teeth — and Joshua had some big teeth...

“The guy,” Joshua said, “and Kelpy.”

Alec frowned. “Kelpy? Is that a name?”

“It’s a name: Kelpy — Chameleon Boy.”

Alec felt like he needed a map to follow the conversation. “Chameleon Boy?”

“Kelpy... he could be the one.”

“The one?”

“The one... taking skins. Killing.”

Finally, Alec felt like he was in the same conversation as Joshua; and this was indeed important. “Kelpy’s on the outside?”

“Yes — Max freed him, like she did me, and so many of us.”

“Where on the outside?”

“That Joshua doesn’t know. But...”

Again, Alec could discern the drift. “You think this guy you know might know where Kelpy is?”

Joshua nodded vigorously.

“Great. Good job, Joshua. Now — let’s go tell Max.”

Pawlike hands went up, as if in surrender, and Joshua’s eyes flared. “Can’t!”

Alec, about to head back into the media center, froze. “Can’t?”

“He’s passing for human. If I tell Max, and she tells that detective...”

“You’re afraid this guy’s cover will be blown.”

“Cover blown?”

“People will know he’s transgenic. He won’t be able to pass, anymore.”

“Yes, Alec! Yes — guy’s cover blown.”

Alec shook his head. Leave it to Joshua to have a moral dilemma about this; anyway, Alec sure as hell wouldn’t. “You know Max, Joshua — she won’t blow your friend’s cover.”