Atlas waved at his charges—and then hurried off around the corner. Her chance was gone.
But she made up her mind. One way or another, she would meet this man…
She would stand face-to-face with Atlas.
They were alone in the long, narrow shooting gallery, firing at man-shaped targets. The air smelled of gunsmoke; brass littered the floor. Bill stood just behind his wife, looking over her shoulder. “That’s it, love—take aim and shoot ’im right between the eyes.”
Elaine winced and lowered the revolver. “Do you have to put it that way, Bill? Between the eyes? It’s just a paper target…”
Bill McDonagh grinned ruefully. “Sorry, darlin’, but—you said you wanted this for self-defense! And those rogue splicers don’t play around—” He put his hand on her shoulder and added more gently, “If you’re going to defend yourself against them, you’ve got to shoot to kill. I know it’s bloody awful. It’s been hard for me to shoot at these blokes too…”
Elaine took a deep breath, raised the gun at the end of her arm, clasped it with both hands, and aimed at the silhouette at the other end of the shooting gallery.
She grimaced and squeezed the trigger, blinking as the gun went
Bill sighed. She missed the target completely. “Right. This time, let out a long breath before you fire, squeeze the trigger gently, like, and—”
“Oh Bill…” Elaine lowered the gun, her lips quivering, eyes welling with tears. “This is so horrible. Having to… Mr. Ryan never said it’d be like this…”
Bill glanced at the door to see if anyone was listening. They seemed to be alone. But you never knew for sure anymore…
“Bill… it’s just… I can’t raise Sophie here, in a place where I have to…”
He put his arm around her. “I know, love. I know.”
She put her face on his shoulder and wept.
“Elaine… darlin’… got to be careful where you talk like that…” He licked his lips, thinking,
She sniffed and wiped her nose with a kerchief she took from his coat pocket. She took a deep breath and then nodded. “Sure, okay, Bill. I just hope you’re right about who we’ve got to shoot at.” She lowered her voice to a barely audible whisper. “Far as I can tell—they might come at us from either side of the fence.” She cocked the gun. “I guess I’d better… be ready for anything.”
Elaine raised the gun and took aim at the paper outline. She let out a long, slow breath, centered the gunsights on the target’s head, and squeezed the trigger.
It was Christmas Eve. Bill, Karlosky, and Redgrave sat around a card table in Bill’s living room, playing poker in the light from the Christmas tree. Two bottles, one nearly empty, stood beside a plate littered with cookie crumbs. Bill was beginning to feel he’d drunk too much. Sometimes the cards in his hand seemed to recede into the distance, and the room swiveled in his peripheral vision.
“Wonder if this Atlas is going to be the problem Mr. Ryan thinks,” Redgrave said, frowning over his cards. “All we got is rumors. That he’s working with the splicers, givin’ ’em ADAM. Where’s he get all that ADAM?”
“A lot of Fontaine’s supply seems to’ve done a vanishing act,” Bill said, trying to see his own cards. Were those diamonds or hearts? “When they raided his place—most of the stuff was gone. Ryan’s had Suchong hard at it making new stuff. Sometimes I wish he’d just let ’em…” He didn’t finish saying he wished plasmids would run out completely. Karlosky might report that to Ryan. And Ryan was not in a mood to have his policies questioned.
Redgrave raised the pot, Bill folded, and Karlosky called. Redgrave showed three aces.
Karlosky scowled at Constable Redgrave and threw down his cards. “You black bastard; you cheat me again!”
The black cop chuckled and scooped up the poker chips. “I
“Bah! Black son of a bitch!”
Shuffling the cards, Bill looked at Redgrave to see how he took Karlosky’s invective.
To his relief, he saw Redgrave looking gleeful, catching the tip of his tongue between his teeth as he stacked his new chips. “Not surprised an ignorant Cossack son of a bitch like you can’t play poker… But a Russian not being able to hold his drink? That’s sad, man!”
“What!” Karlosky pretended to tremble with rage. “Not hold drink!”
He grabbed the unlabeled bottle—he had made the vodka himself from potatoes raised in Rapture hydroponics—and poured the transparent fluid into their glasses, slopping almost as much on the table. “Now! We see who can drink! A black bastard or a real man! Bill—you drink too!”
“Nah, I’m not a real man; I’m a married man! My wife’ll kick me ass if I come to bed any more bladdered’n I am…” He’d had three shots of the crude vodka—more than enough.
“He’s right about that!” Elaine said, scowling theatrically from the doorway to the bedroom. “I’ll kick him right out of bed!” But she laughed.
Bill watched as Elaine went to adjust an ornament on the Christmas tree, yawning in her terrycloth robe. It was a curious thing how he could look at his wife with her hair rumpled, her face without makeup, her feet bare under a terrycloth robe that was far from enticing boudoir wear, and still feel a deep desire for her. It wasn’t the vodka—he often felt that way seeing her about the flat.
“Is nice Christmas tree!” Karlosky said, toasting her.
The small Christmas tree was made out of wire and green paper, with a few colored lights—they were the only Christmas decoration Ryan allowed. No stars, no angels, no wise men, no baby Jesus. “
“Don’t stay up too late with these drunken louts, Bill!” Elaine said, rubbing her eyes, putting on a frown again.
“Ha!” Karlosky said, punching Redgrave playfully in the shoulder. “His wife whips him like little boy, eh!”
Bill laughed, shaking his head. “Sorry, love. We’re about done playing cards.”
Her look of mock disapproval vanished and she winked. “No, you guys go on and play your cards! Have fun. I just came out to tell you not to be too loud so you don’t wake up Sophie.”
Redgrave turned her a bright smile. “Ma’am, thank you for havin’ me to Christmas Eve supper. Means a lot to me!” He raised his glass to her.
“Glad you could be here, Constable Redgrave. Goodnight.”
“Da!” Karlosky said. “Happy holiday, Mrs.!” He turned fiercely to Redgrave. “Now—drink up, you black bastard!”
