The possibility of violence passed. Gerald turned and made for the door. Outside, naked rock pressed in on him, creating a sense of suffocation. There were too few light panels in the corridor. Hologram signs and low- wattage AV projections tried to entice him into other clubs and bars. He shuffled past, reaching the warren of smaller corridors which served the residential section. He thought his rented room was close, the signs at every intersection were confusing, numbers and letters jumbled together; he wasn’t used to them yet. Voices rumbled down the corridor, male laughs and jeers, the tone was unpleasant. They were coming from the junction ahead. Dim shadows moved on the walls. He almost stopped and turned around. Then he heard the girl’s cry, angry and fearful at the same time. He wanted to run away. Violence frightened him now. The possessed seemed to be at the heart of all conflicts, all evil. It would be best to leave, to call others to help. The girl cried out again, cursing. And Gerald thought of Marie, and how lonely and afraid she must have been when the possessed claimed her. He edged forwards, and glanced around the corner.
At first, Beth had been furious with herself. She prided herself on how urban-wise she was. Koblat might be small, but that didn’t mean it had much community spirit. There were only the company cops to keep order; and they didn’t much bother unless they’d had their bung. The corridors could get tough. Men in their twenties, the failed rebels who now had nothing in front of them but eighty years work for the company, went together in clans. They had their own turf, and Beth knew which corridors they were, where you didn’t go at any time.
She hadn’t been expecting any trouble when the three young men walked down the corridor towards her. She was only twenty metres from her apartment, and they were in company overalls, some kind of maintenance crew. Not a clan, nor mates coming back from a clubbing session. Mr Regulars.
The first one whistled admiringly when they were a few metres away. So she gave them the standard blank smile and moved over to one side of the corridor. Then one of them groaned and pointed at her ankle. “Christ, she’s wearing one too, a deadie.”
“Are ya gay, doll? Fancy giving that Kiera one, do ya? Me too.”
They all laughed harshly. Beth tried to walk past. A hand caught her arm. “Where you going, doll?”
She attempted to pull herself free, but he was too strong.
“Valisk? Going to shag Kiera? We not good enough for you here? You got something against your own kind?”
“Let go!” Beth started to struggle. More hands grabbed her. She lashed out with her free arm, but it was no good. They were bigger, older, stronger.
“Little cow.”
“She’s got some fight in her.”
“Hold the bitch. Take that arm.”
Her arms were forced behind her back, holding her still. The man in front of her grinned slowly as she twisted about. He grabbed her hair suddenly and pushed her head back. Beth flinched, very near to losing it. His face was centimetres from hers, triumphant eyes gloating.
“Gonna take you home with us,” he breathed. “We’ll straighten you out good and proper, doll; you won’t want girls again, not after we’ve finished with you.”
“Fuck off!” Beth screamed. She kicked out. But he caught her leg and shoved it high into the air.
“Dumb slut.” He tugged at the knot which held the red handkerchief around her ankle. “Reckon this might come in useful, guys. She’s got a mouth on her.”
“You . . . you just bloody well leave her alone.”
All four of them stared at the speaker.
Gerald stood in the corridor’s junction, his grey ship-suit wrinkled and dirty, hair ruffled, three days of beard shading his face. Even more alarming than the nervejam stick he was pointing at them in a two-handed grip was the way it shook. He was blinking as if he were having great difficulty focusing.
“Whoa there, fella,” the man holding Beth’s leg said. “Let’s not get excited here.”
Beth’s leg was hurriedly dropped. The hands let go of her arms. Her three would-be rapists began to back off down the corridor. “We’re going, okay? You got this all wrong, fella.”
“Leave! I know what you are. You’re part of it. You’re part of them. You’re helping them.”
The three men were retreating fast. Beth looked at the unstable nervejam stick and the persecuted face behind it, and almost felt like joining them. She tried to get her breathing back under control.
“Thanks, mate,” she said.
Gerald sucked on his lower lip and gradually slid down the wall until he was squatting on his heels. The nervejam stick dropped from his fingers.
“Hey, you okay?” Beth hurried forwards.
Gerald looked up at her with a pathetically placid face and started whimpering.
“Jeeze—” She looked around to make certain her assailants had gone, then hunkered down beside him. Something made her hold back from making a grab for the nervejam. She was desperately uncertain what he’d do. “Listen, they’ll probably come back in a minute. Where do you live?”
Tears started streaming down from his eyes. “I thought you were Marie.”
“No such luck mate, I’m Beth. Is this your corridor?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, do you live near here?”
“Help me please, I have to get to her, and Loren’s left me here all alone. I don’t know what to do next. I really don’t.”
“You’re not the only one,” Beth grunted.
“Well who is he?” Jed asked.
Gerald was sitting at the dining-room table in Beth’s apartment, staring at the mug of tea he was holding. It was a pose he’d maintained for the last ten minutes.
“Says his name’s Gerald Skibbow,” Beth said. “Reckon he’s telling the truth.”
“Okay. How about you? You all right now?”
“Yeah. Those manky bastards got a real fright. Don’t reckon we’ll be seeing them again.”
“Good. You know, we might be better off if we stop wearing our handkerchiefs. People are getting real uptight about it.”
“What? No way! Not now. It says what I am: a Deadnight. If they can’t stomach that, it ain’t my problem.”
“It nearly was.”
“It won’t happen again.” She held up the nervejam and gave a brutish smirk.
“Jeeze. Is that his?”
“Yep. Said I could borrow it.”
Jed regarded Gerald in dismayed confusion. “Blimey. Bloke must be pretty far gone.”
“Hey.” She tapped his belly with the tip of the nervejam. “Watch what you’re saying. Maybe he’s a little cranky, but he’s my mate.”
“A
“He’ll have a room somewhere.”
“Yeah, a nice quiet one with lots of padding on the walls.”
“Quit that, will you. How much you’ve changed, huh? We’re supposed to be wanting a life where people don’t jump down each other’s throats the whole time. Least, that’s what I thought. Am I wrong?”
“No,” he grumbled. Beth these days was hard to understand. Jed had thought she’d appreciate the fact he wasn’t making moves on her anymore. If anything that had made her even more intractable. “Hey, look don’t worry. My head’ll get straightened when we reach Valisk.”
Gerald slewed around in his chair. “What did you say?”
“Hey, mate, thought you’d gone switch-off on us there,” Beth said. “How you feeling?”
“What did you say about Valisk?”
“We want to go there,” Jed said. “We’re Deadnights, see. We believe in Kiera. We want to be part of the new universe.”
