Chris Holm - Dead Harvest

He raised his head again, looked Kate up and down. Though his expression was defiant, the strain the movement placed on him was evident.

"Is this the girl? The one all the fuss is about?"

"The girl is no concern of yours."

"The hell she isn't!" Mu'an spat, his voice scarcely louder than a whisper. "You and her, you put me here. Believe me when I tell you that's not something I'll forget. If you ask me, I should kill you where you stand, and bring her in myself — save us all a world of trouble. You have no idea the wrath that you've unleashed upon us — you and that little monkey bitch of yours."

I let my crutch fall away as my fingers found his hair. I yanked back his head, while my other hand drew the cat-shard from my pocket and held it to his exposed throat.

"I don't think you're in a position to be making threats, now, do you? Now, I hoped we could do this all friendly-like, but you just wouldn't play nice, now would you? So here's how it's gonna be: you're gonna tell me what it is I want to know, and maybe — just maybe — you cheat death a second time today. You get me?" I said.

Mu'an's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, the shard digging into the tender skin of his neck. Ever so slightly, he nodded.

"Good. Now, why don't you tell me what happened in there?"

"There isn't much to tell," he said. "I was grabbing a cup of coffee at the Market when I spotted them: three, maybe four foot soldiers, cutting through the crowd toward me. I tried to duck out through the concourse — I thought perhaps if I could get out to the street, I could shake them — but they were too fast." He laughed, just a single, barking note. "These fucking meat-sacks, they all think our noble cousins are the good guys, but you know what? Their precious angels are worse than we are. I mean, when they thought I might evade them, they damn near leveled the place, without a thought in the world as to the consequences. Fucking animals, they are."

"Why were they after you?"

"How should I know? You should have seen it, friend — after all, it was all your doing. I mean, when that bastard let loose, there was just this thundering, heavenly note — and then chaos. I mean, the wrath of fucking God. Can you even imagine what that's like?"

"Like a chorus of children," Kate said. Her voice was small and tremulous, and her eyes had a strange, faraway quality to them, as though she was somehow no longer here with us. "Sweet. Innocent. Painful in its beauty. Or so you think, until the real pain comes."

"That's right," Mu'an said, eyeing Kate a moment with sudden suspicion before continuing. "But then the light — the heat — it stripped bone from flesh, and the closest to the blast were just… erased. Gone. Had I been a moment slower, I would have been as well. But I managed to take shelter behind a pillar, which worked out well for me, because now I get the pleasure of talking to you lovely people."

At the end of the tent from which we'd entered, there was a flurry of activity. Shouting, clanking, the crackle of static. If I had to guess, I'd say our time was running short.

"But why? Why are they after you?" I asked.

"What's it matter why? The body count's the same. All these lives lost, and all because you wouldn't do your fucking job." I pressed the shard tighter to his neck, dimpling his skin. "OK — all right. Let's not be too hasty. Truth is, I don't know why they chose to target me. In my capacity as courier, I'm often in possession of information of some import, and there are always parties that would be interested in obtaining that information, or ensuring no one else can. It's been some time since anyone has resorted to violence to that end. I rather thought that we were past all that."

"So what is it you've been tasked to convey?"

"I'm telling you, Collector, I have no idea. It's somewhat of an open secret that the appropriate compensation does wonders to loosen my tongue, which is why some of my clients choose to upgrade to a more secure method of communication. Once the rite of suppression is performed, I haven't the faintest idea what it is I'm carrying — or even who I'm carrying it to. You want to know what I know? I suggest you ask your lady friend."

I shot Kate a glance, but she looked as puzzled as I felt.

Mu'an laughed. "You're even dumber than you look, you know that? You should know better than to assume I'd condescend to trafficking the secrets of this monkey."

Then Mu'an let out a horrible, rasping cough, followed by another, and then another. I released his hair from my grip, and withdrew the shard — but not far. His face reddened, and he doubled over. A thin thread of blood trailed downward from his lower lip, and this time, he made no move to wipe it away. From the corner of my eye, I saw a crash team approaching, worried by his sudden fit, while behind them, a mass of uniformed security personnel were going bed-tobed, looking for us. I turned my head to watch as a patient — just a few beds from the one I'd occupied — raised a shaky hand at whatever he'd been asked and pointed directly toward me. The cop's gaze was close behind, and our eyes locked across the massive, crowded tent.

"Well, Collector," said Mu'an, sucking breath after labored breath, "I've told you all I can. Kill me if you must — I only ask you make it quick."

"You aren't going to die today, Mu'an — at least, not by my hand. C'mon, Kate, it's time to go." I stuffed the shard into my pocket and grabbed Kate by the wrist, dragging her deeper into the teeming medical tent.

"You're just forestalling the inevitable!" called Mu'an, though his huddled form was already lost to the crowd. "She will be taken, and when she is, you'll pay!"

As we pressed through the crowd, Kate leaned close. Her voice was nearly swallowed by the din — the patients around us now were the worst-hit, and between the flurry of medical personnel, and the nightmarish arcade cacophony of their monitors, I could barely hear myself think.

"You think he's right? That my collection is inevitable?"

"Eh, you know demons — they just can't help but indulge in a bit of apocalyptic bluster every now and again." I flashed her a smile. It felt tight and awkward on my face.

Kate looked over her shoulder, and I followed suit. A half-dozen of New York's Finest were pushing toward us through the crowd, maybe thirty feet away and closing fast.

"You got a plan to get us out of here?" Kate asked.

"I'm working on it," I replied. I figured it sounded more encouraging than no.

The tent roof sloped steadily downward toward us, and through the crowd I caught a glimpse of open street and pale gray sky. I pushed aside a nurse in blood-spattered scrubs and broke for the edge of the tent. It wasn't till I could feel the kiss of fresh air across my face that I saw him.

He was a mountain of a cop, with dark deep-set eyes peering outward from a fleshy face, the features of which were twisted into an angry frown around a mustache the size of a small woodland creature. His barrel chest strained the buttons of his uniform blues as he approached, nightstick in hand. I sized him up as he approached, wondering if I could take him down. I was pretty sure the answer was no. A shame, that — he didn't look like one for talking.

I released Kate's hand and stepped clear of the tent, my hands raised in surrender. My crutch clattered to the ground, and I had the sudden, queasy realization that if this didn't work, I couldn't exactly make a run for it. Kate, for her part, had the good sense to stay a few steps behind me, hidden in the bustle of the tent, although if I didn't deal with this guy quick, it wouldn't matter — there were a bunch more just like him bringing up the rear.

"Stay where you are!" he shouted, his sandpaper growl slathered with a goodly helping of Bronx.