James Decker - Fallout

The guard took my arm again, and again I pulled away.

“Fine,” I said, glaring. He motioned toward the train.

“Front car.”

Vamp gave a wave as the other guard ushered him and Nix into the rear car, and I stepped through the doorway into the front.

The inside was posh, I had to admit. Shiny clean, crisp canned air, and big, plush seats. The car sat only six total, and all the seats were empty at the moment. A fancy bar booth had been set up at the far end of the cab, a round glass table in front of a plush, curved seat made of faux leather.

Sitting at the table was Gohan himself. He didn’t look at me when I came in, in fact he wasn’t really looking at anything. He sat with his hands folded in front of him, staring blankly at the tabletop like he was in a trance.

I turned to ask the goon if the old guy was okay, but he hadn’t followed me in. The door slid shut, leaving me alone with Gohan as the train started to move. Through the windows I saw the big dragon mural streak past; then the overhead light flickered on as we headed into the tunnel.

“Hello?” I called, creeping toward him between the rows of seats.

He looked up at the sound of my voice, and I saw he looked even more tired and strung out than he had in the aircar the day before. There were dark circles under his eyes like he hadn’t slept in a couple of nights, and his face was covered in graying stubble. Even his plastic hair had shifted a little out of place, wiry strands sticking out here and there.

The weirdest thing, though, had to be the expression on his face. That strange smile of his appeared, but his eyes weren’t in on the smile. They seemed to be operating on a completely different wavelength.

“Hello there,” he said, patting the seat next to him. “Please, sit down.”

I didn’t sit right next to him like he wanted, but I took a seat at the table with him.

“Okay,” I said. “I’m here.”

“Yes. Good. Did my people give you any trouble?”

“No,” I said. “They were fine.”

He leaned back in the booth, and let out a long sigh.

“You’re in an awful lot of trouble, Xiao-Xing Shao.”

“Yeah, well… I thought I would be when I started this.”

“I suppose a complete loss of power isn’t in anyone’s best interest,” he said. “Except yours.”

“And yours.”

He grinned a little, and nodded.

“I imagine you have questions.”

“I know Chong was working for you.”

“Is he alive?”

“No,” I said. “Why was he working for you, Gohan? Why did you try to help us?”

He reached across the table, and took my right hand in his. He ran his thumb over the back of it, and I pulled it away.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

“I want answers, Gohan.”

“I’m hungry.”

His fingers wandered across a row of contacts built into the table’s surface and a panel on the wall between us popped open. Cold air puffed out of a little fridge on the other side, causing goose bumps to prick up on my arm.

“Doesn’t it bother you to live like you do while everyone else starves?”

“Not everyone else.”

The cold air made its way to my nose and immediately my mouth started watering as I breathed in smells both savory and sweet. I blinked, everything else forgotten for a moment as I stared at the shelf inside. Three ceramic bowls had been arranged there, along with a single square ceramic plate. The bowls each contained shiny fruit of different shapes and colors. The plate had four items on it: oblong molds of what I thought might be rice. Sitting on top of each one was a strip of something pale white, and shiny.

“Take it,” he said.

“No,” I said, but I couldn’t stop staring at the offering.

“Enjoy what fruits the world has left,” Gohan said. “You never know when they may be gone.”

I wanted to say no, but I hadn’t eaten since Baishan Park, and the smell of food seemed to fill the whole car. Before I even knew what I was doing I’d reached toward it, stopping myself before I’d actually touched anything.

“I… don’t have much money,” I said, still staring into the fridge. Gohan looked amused.

“You are my guest.”

“I can have anything?”

His creepy grin curled wider. “Anything.”

I leaned closer to get a better look at the white flesh draped over the rice.

“What is that?”

“Fish,” he said. “On rice.”

I looked at him, eyebrows raised.

“Fish,” I said. “Like from the ocean? I don’t think so.” Fishing had been outlawed decades ago, before I’d even been born. I’d heard about it, but it wasn’t done anymore. Most species went extinct a long time ago, the ones worth eating anyway. The ocean supported the feedlots now, and provided water, after desalination. Not fish.

“No,” Gohan said. “Not from the ocean. I clone them.”

“Where did you get the material to clone from?”

“It’s out there, for the right price.”

I decided I’d better go for the fruit first, not exactly sure about the cloned fish. I knew what fruit was, of course, but I’d never actually eaten any. I reached for the most recognizable piece—the shiny red gonzo apple. It fit neatly in my hand, firm and cold.

My teeth broke through the thin skin, and into the crisp flesh underneath as sweet juice flooded into my mouth. It ran down over my tongue, forcing my lips into a smile before I could even close my mouth. I chomped down on the piece I’d bitten off and more juice gushed out, dribbling down the back of my throat and leaking from the corners of my mouth. I was still chewing when I took another greedy mouthful, packing it in with the rest.

“Good?” Gohan asked.

I nodded, unable to speak without spraying juice. The fruit tasted better, hands down, than anything else I’d ever eaten in my life, ever. I couldn’t believe how much of the sweet liquid it contained… like a food and water ration all in one, except the food wasn’t bitter, crunchy scalefly and the water tasted sweet and tangy, instead of flat and metallic.

I swallowed hard, forcing the first mouthful down toward my stomach, which was already antsy with anticipation. As soon as the way was clear I went in again, biting into the soft, white fruit. I wiped my mouth on the back of one forearm, smearing sticky juice across one cheek.

“Look,” I said. “You can bribe me all you want but I still want answers.”

I had to admit, though, that at least for the moment the bribe was kind of working. I’d seen the replicas of apples at their shrines all the time but had no idea that they, or anything for that matter, could ever taste so good.

“You’ll get your answers,” Gohan said. “Do you feel better?”

I nodded.

“Yes.” I swallowed, then added, “Thank you, Gohan.”

“You’re welcome.”

He took one of the fish and rice bundles, and popped it in his mouth. He licked his greasy lips, then leaned back in his chair and chewed with one cheek bulging. When he caught me looking at his droopy eyelid, he raised one finger to point toward it.

“Do you know why I suffer from partial paralysis in my face?” he asked.

“Is that what it is?”

“Yes. My face wasn’t always this way. It happened when, at twenty-seven years old, I was involved in an aircar accident that resulted in significant head trauma. Facial reconstruction was quite successful, though the nerve damage was too severe to completely repair and left me with the lazy eyelid.”

“That’s interesting, Gohan, but what does it have to do with what’s going on now?”

“It has everything to do with what’s going on now. To understand, you need to know the whole story.” He pointed to his lazy eye again. “It all comes down to this.”