Chris Pourteau - Tails of the Apocalypse

Though my eyes were closed, I squeezed them even tighter. None of that is my business. I’m only selling the boxes. What the strangers do with them… well… that has nothing to do with me.

I’d found okcillium before. A source for the stuff. At least I’m pretty sure it was okcillium. But I hadn’t told anyone where I found it.

One time, Kristy and I were trapped in an apartment complex just like this one. I’d been forced to tear through a wall to escape a wily Transport agent, who was closing in on us.

Trapped, Kristy had bounced off a certain spot on the wall, so I’d kicked through the sheetrock to make a hole for our escape.

That’s when I found it. A small ball of metal-like material clamped to the wiring of the apartment. Like a fishing weight squeezed tight around the wires that ran through the walls.

It had to be okcillium because it fit the description and because I’d done wiring like this before and had never seen anything like it.

I’d heard a rumor from an old salvager, half drunk and blathering near a fire in the refusenik camp. He said Transport had rigged the whole city with okcillium. So they could zap it somewhere else if they wanted to.

Everyone thought the old man was nuts. Maybe he was. But then I found the stuff clamped to a wire. And I didn’t have time to remove it or check it out. The Transport agent was on our tails, and Kristy was through the hole as soon as it was big enough. She’d found a place in the wall that even had a gap in the firewall, so we were able to escape into an adjacent apartment.

We escaped that night because of Kristy. Again. And now I knew a secret about okcillium.

I felt Kristy move and my eyes flew open. She wasn’t fully alerting, but I could tell she was checking things out. I blinked a few times, trying to get my eyes to adjust to the darkness. That’s when Kristy bolted to the door. As fast as I could, I snatched up the boxes and I was right after her.

Down the hall, back the way we’d come in, but this time Kristy halted at the stairs and stood still for a moment. Frozen. Tail pointing straight back. Then she was rushing past me again, back toward the apartment we’d just vacated. This can’t be good. It has to mean that Transport is either already in the building, or close to it. Kristy is smart. No way she’d run down stairs if we were trapped.

But now what?

Three

Lost

I’ll have to kick a hole in the wall. Just like that last time I had to do it.

We’re back in the apartment where we were resting only moments earlier, and I watch as Kristy sniffs the wall before bouncing off a place closer to the closet.

I kick. Kick and kick as sheetrock falls to the floor and dust floats in the air. Dust is a common thing in New Detroit, when the wind blows the limestone powder from the cliffs and coats the town.

Now it’s sheetrock dust in the air and as soon as the hole is big enough, Kristy is through it to the other side. I kick some more, expanding the hole to man size.

I hear noise coming from down the hall. Most likely it’s Transport agents on our trail. I wonder if the agents found the Q I dumped in the bin downstairs. I wonder if the Q had tagents that would trace it first to Marty, then to me. Probably. I’d even bet on it. Even if I escape this, they’ll be looking for me now.

That’s when I see it again. An okcillium ball clamped to the wiring. Just like before.

This time I pull out my knife and take the precious time (time that I don’t really have) to pry the soft metal from the wiring. In a few moments and with a few twists, I work the ball free and drop it into my pocket. Maybe when I’m caught I can bribe the Transport agents with the okcillium and the gold buttons I have with me.

Probably not. Why make a deal when they can just arrest me and take the stuff if they want it?

I’m through the wall, where Kristy is waiting impatiently. She knows what to do but she always has to wait for the dumb human to catch up.

Once I’ve cleared the hole, Kristy darts through the facing apartment and bounces off the front door. Then we’re through the door and running down the hallway, and for a moment I feel like we’re going to make it again. Another narrow escape.

Kristy is ahead of me and she bounds down the stairs at a full gallop. Fur and feet and purpose, and that’s all she is now. This time she doesn’t wait for me at the landings, and I get a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Why isn’t she waiting for me?

Something’s up. I get it. She knows there are Transport agents waiting downstairs, and we don’t have time to go through another wall. I keep following her, but the feeling of loss and despair washes over me like a baptism. Cold fear, unmixed.

I think about dropping the boxes. I should drop them, but I don’t.

I make it to the bottom floor and see Kristy engaged in battle with two Transport agents just inside the door leading to the lobby. One of the agents has dropped his pistol and then landed on it hard when Kristy attacked, while the other one shoots wildly, trying to scare Kristy while not killing his partner. Neither one sees me.

My mind races. Kristy has made this sacrifice for me. To get me out of the building. But can I leave without her? No. She looks up at me and barks twice before launching herself at the standing agent who has his gun aimed and shaking but isn’t firing.

The agent stumbles backward and reaches for the door, trying to effect his own escape. I think about dropping the Brighton boxes again, abandoning the mission altogether, but for some reason I don’t do it. Agent #1 is still down and not moving. Shock and fear, I guess. I think about going for his gun, but he’s lying on it, and I know I won’t get it before Agent #2 cuts me down. I clasp the boxes against my chest with one arm and push myself against the wall near the door. I’m frozen, not knowing what to do.

Then the tide turns.

Kristy takes down #2, dragging him groundward by his arm, twisting it as bone and flesh give way, and his gun hits the ground. I scramble for it and snag it just before he can reach to reclaim it.

I point the gun at the injured agent and Kristy releases his arm. The appendage is bloody and wrecked. Twisted. Like this world and all that’s in it.

“Easy cowboy,” I say. “Don’t get killed over this.”

The agent slides down to the ground in silence, cradling his arm. The fight’s gone out of him.

Once out the door, Kristy and I beat feet through the lobby, and I kick open the front door and we’re onto the narrow street.

That’s when I see the TRACER drone. Too late. It spins on me and I’m trapped.

I see the aiming eye, and think I hear the drone thrum into action, ready to fire. Now I drop the boxes. Finally.

Kristy brushes by my leg and I turn to see her race down the street. All brown and gold and speed. In a split second, the drone that has me dead-to-rights spins and fires at Kristy. But she’s bobbing and weaving as she races down the street, and the drone misses every time.

I aim steadily with both hands and fire, hitting the drone broadside. It sparks and whirrs and spins back in my direction. I fire twice more, hitting it with both shots, and watch as the TRACER spins wildly, sparks flying, crashing into the complex across the street in a brilliant fireball. Another drone buzzes by, seemingly unaware of me or the wrecked TRACER. I figure the last message the downed drone sent was when it fired at Kristy escaping up the block. The second drone is after her now, but she’s long gone.

I gather up the Brighton boxes.

I’m alone.

I made it back to the camp. I don’t know how I did it without Kristy, but I did.