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?”
He still looked pissed, but I could see him take the bait.
“Fine. Can I use your shower?” he asked.
“Knock yourself out.”
He got up and just walked into the bathroom and shut the door. A while after, the water came on and then I heard it splash off him, making him, I think, the only guy to ever take a shower just to hit Arena Porco Rojo. When he was good and wet, I grabbed his phone and ID.
On the card, his name said Luis Valle, and clipped to his keys was enough credit to buy the whole goddamn world. His phone showed a bunch of calls logged, but nothing that meant shit to me. He said something about putting the stuff he took from that company on a data-storage spike, but I didn’t see one on his clip.
I put an ear to the door, and the water was still going strong. While he was tied up, I turned on the TV.
“…where the bombing took place,” a reporter was saying. “So far authorities have no leads on who perpetrated the bombing, and no one has taken responsibility. National Guard forces are moving into place in key areas of the city, while others will be patrolled by a backup revivor contingency.”
“Key areas” meant “rich areas.” Those would get guarded, and we’d get the backup, if that. That dick Ohtomo would send the zombies down to the slums to keep an eye on us and make sure we didn’t start shit with the rest of his precious city while the real soldiers were tied up.
They cut to the mayor, a shitload of mikes jammed in his craw as he went to his car.
“Mayor Ohtomo, is it true a curfew will be imposed?” one asked.
“I will make an official statement on air in an hour,” he said.
“Mayor what about the reports that this may be the first planned bombing of many?”
“I have not heard any report to that effect.”
“What about the witnesses who survived the blast, and their statements that the suicide bomber was actually a revivor?”
“No comment.”
The mayor could screw himself—what I really wanted was the miner. I had Luis’s full name now. That was enough to find out if the cops were on him.
I fed in his name and the miner chewed on it for a second. Links started to pop up. The one with the most hits was on top.
Local Family Tortured, Killed.
