“The cops are on their way,” I say as I help her to her feet.
“My implant–” Her hand reflexively covers the small square on the back of her neck where the device lives under the skin.
“Don’t worry. It’s temporary.”
“No, I mean I thought he wanted…” She trails off with what’s better left unsaid, and gestures to his pack and the surgical tools and miscellaneous tech from the clinic that have spilled out of it. “But he was after my implant, wasn’t he?”
I nod, not trusting my voice. A scrapper dealing in black-market, gently used implants taken from people he could easily overpower. Some of the Disconnects down here are so desperate for the implant tech they could never afford legally, scum like Breck have turned that desperation into a lucrative cottage industry.
He moans. Oh no. What if he wakes up before the police get here? The taser needs more time before it’ll be able to discharge another blast.
The girl ducks behind me. “What do we do?”
I hand the taser off to her. I’m moving before I even register the action. As though he’s just another thug I need to end in an arcade scenario, I snatch up a discarded brick and slam it into his head. The impact rattles up my arm, buzzes into my shoulder. Definitely not a simulation. But that doesn’t stop me from doing it again.
“Hey.” The girl grabs my arm, gives it a shake, and I drop the bloodied brick. “Pretty sure he’s out after that, if you didn’t kill him outright.”
Hands shaking, I take a step back, trying to look anywhere except for the trickle of blood oozing from his scalp. The alley presses closer, moldering brick and old flyers, the stench from a nearby dumpster wreaking havoc on my stomach. This isn’t what I planned. I thought–
Police sirens peal, and I practically jump. Get it together. I turn to the girl. She’s stopped crying. That’s good. “I was never here, OK?”
She nods slowly, then gives me a look that bruises. “I get it.”
Some of it perhaps, but not all. Not enough. I don’t bother correcting her. She’ll have enough to worry about when the police arrive.
“But tell me, how did you know?”
I squeeze her forearm, as if by touch alone I can impart as much fortifying sympathy as possible before I bail. “Doesn’t matter after today.”
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