James Knapp - State of Decay

“What does she show you?”

“You,” I said, and his expression changed. When I probed him gently, I could see fear pricking up from the otherwise calm patterns that hung over him.

“Me?”

“You have a tattoo here,” I said, pointing to his shoulder opposite the one with the scar, and the fear pricked up again.

“Why did she show me to you?”

“I don’t know. She just said you would need my help.”

“Do you know who she was?”

“I’ve never met her, but she says I will soon.”

He paused, and looked down at the seat between us like he was lost in thought. The smile and the professional politeness were gone.

“I’d like to continue this,” he said, “but right now I have an appointment. I stopped here on the way because this is off the record and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Okay.”

“Can we meet again at some point?”

“I’d like that.”

“Yes,” he said, and the smile was back. The reassuring, professional warmth was back, like it had to be. “So would I.”

He reached into his coat and pulled out a large office envelope, which he handed to me.

“In the meantime, would you mind looking at these?”

“What are they?”

“Some pictures and documents that are, for the moment, unclassified,” he said. “But again, this is off the record.”

I took the envelope and held it in my lap.

“They don’t know you’re here, do they?”

“No, and as I said, I’d like to keep it that way. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Thank you.”

Not wanting to be dismissed, I decided to get out of there while things still seemed to be going well. I slid back across the seat and opened the car door.

“You’re not going to lecture me?” I asked. I had meant to include the words “about the drinking,” but I couldn’t bring myself to say them. He seemed a little bit amused.

“Not yet.”

“I’ll look at them,” I said, holding up the envelope as I slipped out the door. I was just about to close it when I remembered one other thing.

“Oh, and a revivor.”

“What?”

“She showed me a revivor, an Asian- looking one with a foreign name. It started with a Z. His jaw was wired shut. Does that help?”

“Yes.”

He was still smiling as I backed away and closed the door, but his fear spiked when I said it. He started the engine and pulled away, leaving me in the parking lot alone.

My phone buzzed, and Luis shot me a look from over a slice of pizza. It was a text from Eddie.

You out? he wanted to know.

Yeah.

I got a slot open tonight. Can you fight?

What about the alert?

Screw the alert. I’ll shut down when they shove an injunction up my ass. Can you fight or not?

Yes. Gotta go, I’ve got company.

No sex before a fight.

I shut the phone.

“Who was that?” Luis asked.

“None of your business.”

We ate and drank some beer, and Luis made a shitload of calls on his phone. The more he talked, the less I liked him in my place. For one thing, he knew too many people and he called them all by fake screen names. For another thing, from the sound of it, he was into some shady shit. He didn’t want me to hear a lot of what he was saying. He asked about shit like data and security and who knew what and how much. He was going to be a problem.

“So, what did you do?” I asked finally. He looked up from the TV.

“Nothing.”

“No one hides their rich ass in this shit hole if they did nothing. What did you do?”

“I’m not rich.”

“I was in your place, remember?”

“It’s not my place.”

“Whatever. Tell me what you did.”

“Noth—”

“Tell me, or get the hell out now.”

He thought about that, and I think it was a tough call for him. He sat there for a while; then he sighed.

“I broke in somewhere,” he said.

“You robbed someplace?”

“Not that kind of break-in. I broke into someone’s network.”

“So?”

“Remember you asked me about Uncle Ed? Dr. Cross?”

“Yeah.”

“Remember I said he works at Heinlein Industries? They’re a government contractor. They make rev—”

“I know what Heinlein does, asshole.”

“Well, he works for them,” he said. “Totally brilliant. He worked right under Samuel Fawkes, the top guy in the field until he died. Anyway, not long ago, he got it into his head that someone was spying on them over there.”

“Why’d he think that?”

“He wouldn’t say, but I think someone put the idea in his head. He got obsessive about it.”

“So call the fucking cops or something.”

“He wouldn’t; he was so nuts about it he wouldn’t even talk to anyone else there about it. It’s like it was some kind of conspiracy or something, like he didn’t think he could trust anyone.”

“What does this have to do with you?”

“He asked me to break in and snoop around.”

“Why?”

“Because he knew I could do it, and he trusts me. He got me some security codes, and I snuck in and set up a bunch of ’bots that watched everything, then reported back to a remote server. When I had enough data to go on, I downloaded it all and put it on a data spike so I could hand it off to him.”

“Wait, that’s why you’re in trouble?”

“I think they realized I was in there while I was in jail—”

“This is all because you think you got pinched screwing around on someone’s network?”

“It’s more complicated than that,” he said, pissed.

“What do you get for that, a fine? Have your top-tier mom and dad bail you out.”

His face changed when I said that. It got all dark.

“I can’t,” he said.

“Yeah, right.”

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“I know how things are.”

“Money doesn’t fix everything.”

“It fixes most things.”

“It wouldn’t fix you.”

“Yeah, well, fuck them and fuck you too.”

“Even I had to take a PH tour,” he said. “Drop the third-tier hero bullsh—”

“Don’t compare us, asshole. People like you end up officers; people like me end up on the front lines. When they put me in a box, you’ll still be drinking champagne in your high-rise, and we both know it. You live long enough, they won’t even use you.”

He didn’t say anything. His face just got darker.

“You and your happy little fam—”

“Go to hell,” he said, his voice low. “I’m leaving.”

I don’t know why, but I kind of felt bad right then. Something about his face, the way he looked. When I got pissed, I shot my mouth off. I didn’t know what it was, but I thought I might have crossed a line, there.

“Hey, don’t cry or any—”

“I’m not crying, bitch, and I don’t need you,” he said. “Take your bullshit and shove it back up your ass. It’s not my fault your life is shit.”

“My life ain’t shit.”

“Yes, it is.”

His face was different. It was like he’d dropped an act, and I could see he wasn’t as soft as I had thought he was. I don’t know what it was, but I could tell he was on the edge. Whatever he was in, he was in deep, and there was fight in his eyes.

“Hey, look,” I said. “I take it back, okay? Just forget it.”

He just stood there and stared me down.

“If you won’t take me, I’ll get a cab.”

“Cabs don’t come out here, bro.”

“Then I’ll—”

“How’s this?” I said. “Eddie wants me in the ring tonight, so unless the cops shut him down, I’m on. You hitch a ride with me there and get a cab at the arena. How’s that?”