the property.
It wasn’t good for my health to try to talk to Vicki right now. But it might be the only way to save my marriage.
I kept my head down, whipping around the corner and ditching the biofuel bike in front of my neighbor’s house. I hung the helmet on the handlebars, the engine still on. Then I swallowed my pride and rang his videobell.
Chomsky’s face appeared on the monitor. He was bald with a big nose and looked pissed, but that was his perpetual look. We’d been neighbors for more than ten years, and friendly for the first few, until his vines grew across to my rooftop and I harvested them for biofuel tax, figuring they were on my property. He took offense and raised a big stink with the local alderman, resulting in a big fine for me.
Chomsky was a dick. But he was also my only shot at seeing Vicki.
“What the hell do you want, Talon?”
Good. Apparently he hadn’t seen the news yet.
“I had an accident and can’t get in my house. I need to get on your roof to jump over.”
“You look like shit.”
The remnants of the airfoam had become a slimy mucus, which gave my coat of stinky biomass garbage a glossy sheen.
“Please, Chomsky. I know we don’t get along. But this is an emergency.”
“A month of foliage.”
“Excuse me?”
“I’ll let you on my roof, but you’ll owe me a month of foliage for biofuel tax.”
I glanced at the corner. Two peace officers were coming my way.
“Sure, Chomsky. A month.”
“Really? You sure agreed to that quickly. Let’s make it two months.”
“Two months? You’re such a dick.”
“That’s the offer. Take it or leave it.”
The cop duo had picked up their pace. One was holding his earlobe.
“Deal,” I said.
“And apologize for calling me a dick.”
I ground my molars. “I’m sorry, Chomsky. You aren’t a dick.”
“That’s right. Who’s the dick?”
The cops were almost on me.
“I am, Chomsky. I’m the dick. Now, please open the door.”
“Wipe your feet before you come up.”
He buzzed me in. I didn’t bother wiping my feet. I pushed past him in the hallway, running up his stairs as fast as I could, bursting out onto his green roof. I hurried to the edge and looked down.
Cops were everywhere, many of them focused on their DTs, tracking my chip.
“Talon, you ass-master! You trailed shit all through my house! And it stinks!”
I judged the gap between my roof and his. It was only six feet, but the height made it seem a lot farther away. Did I have the strength to make the leap? I was exhausted, beaten up, covered with twenty pounds of gunk.
“The stink is making me puke! You owe me a carpet cleaning as well, mister!”
“Shut up, Chomsky! You’re such a dick!”
“I’m calling the alderman!”
Dick.
Chomsky stomped off. I looked at the gap again, sure I wouldn’t be able to make it across. I wondered if my dick neighbor had a pair of frog legs. A kermit could make the jump, easy.
“Talon?”
I glanced over at my roof. Vicki was there. Vicki, the love of my life. My wife. My everything. And suddenly I had the strength of ten men. I took five running steps, then launched myself into the air, sailing toward her, soaring like a bird on the wings of love.
Halfway there I knew I’d be about a foot short.
SEVENTEEN
The wings of love fuct me, and I slammed into the side of my house, frantically trying to get a handhold even as I felt one or two ribs snap. Vicki raced to me, pulling my shirt just as the bullets started to fly. I hooked an ankle up on the ledge and hefted myself over, lying on my back and panting like an asthmatic at a hayseed festival.
“Talon…”
My wife knelt next to me. She had tears in her eyes, her face a sad snapshot of concern.
“In order of importance,” I heaved, “I love you, I’m sorry, and I didn’t do it.”
“I know, I know, and I know. I love you, too, baby.”
She kissed me, which proved she loved me because at that moment I was the worst-smelling object on the planet.
“Cops in the house?”
She nodded. “A dozen.”
“Are you in trouble?”
“No.”
“They’ll use you to get to me. Go to Sata. He knows what’s going on.”
“I tried calling you…”
“They cut my headphone. But I’ll get in touch.”
“Promise me.”
“I promise. If you don’t hear from me, I’ll meet you at the space elevator. Tomorrow.”
She nodded. I wanted to kiss her again, but she was already covered with foul-smelling gunk and I didn’t want to add to it.
Vicki had no such concerns, and she leaned in to kiss me. For ten magical seconds, all was right with the world.
I heard a snoring sound, and turned left. My raccoon visitor was sleeping in the hemp bush, all four legs in the air. He had marijuana all over his whiskers, and I may have been projecting but it sure looked like he had a smile on his furry face. I pulled my knife.
Vicki’s eyes got wide. “What are you doing?”
“This needs to be done. You don’t want to watch.”
I advanced on the animal with my blade drawn, trying to get my courage up, trying not to hesitate.
“Talon!” Vicki covered her eyes. “Oh… Talon…”
When I was finished, I tossed the raccoon onto that dick Chomsky’s roof. Then I crawled to the sprinkler and turned it on, cleaning myself up as best I could and drinking at least a half gallon in a futile effort to quench my thirst.
“Talon! They’re here!”
Three cops poured through my roof door, guns drawn. I struggled to my feet, got up a head of steam, and threw myself into the air again. And once again, I came up short, hanging from the edge of Chomsky’s building. But my bloody hands couldn’t hold on, and before I could get a leg up I lost my grip.
Luckily, Chomsky’s wall was covered with thick vines-the same vines that I’d been fined for harvesting. I hooked my hands into the vines, ripping them off the wall as I fell. They lowered me gently down. By the time I reached the ground I had two hundred credits’ worth of foliage in my arms. I gave them a rough yank, uprooting them. Served Chomsky right, the dick.
Cops appeared in front of me, Tasers raised. I backpedaled, squinting against the glare as the wax bullets struck my armful of vines. I dropped them and tore ass around the corner, finding my abandoned biofuel scooter,
