Chapter 282 |
It took an argument, but Nick and I split ways not long after. I pulled off the highway and navigated my system-knock-off Prius towards the curb until rubber ground concrete, then placed it into park. The slate-blue car was part of my recent initiative to further separate the identity of Matt, the low-level User, from Myrddin, the Ordinator and public enemy. In truth, I should have hammered on that venture far earlier, but there had been little downtime to speak of, as I’d been juggling crisis after crisis to the point that I’d started dropping things that weren’t life-threatening, but were still important.
Which was partly why I was here, in the middle of a suburban wasteland that stretched on for miles. There was evidence of quick evacuations all around me. Trampled gardens, a few homes burned to the ground, abandoned half-packed cars with the trunks still open, the gaping maws of multiple unlit garages.
By comparison, Jinny’s house looked pristine. The grassy lawn had yellowed some, but there was still a sparkling pre-system SUV parked in the driveway, and from the looks of it, lights on inside.
Figures.
I sighed. The now-familiar purple light of a notification hung in the corner of my vision, and I focused on it, pulling up a slew of messages from the legend himself.
The last message was time-stamped a minute earlier.
A few minutes later.
I rolled my eyes.
I snorted, imagining calling in backup for a surly old woman who lived alone.
I banished the message screen, and centered myself, trying to carve through the unease and anxiety. Conveying utter confidence was the only way to get Nick to piss off, but at the moment I felt nothing of the sort. My father—a career cop—lost a partner once. Not to violence, or something as rote as a shootout. It started with a headache, then the man’s speech slurred as he complained about someone burning something in the precinct kitchen, right before his head hit his desk. The massive stroke finished the job before the paramedics could even load him onto a stretcher.
And as his partner, it was my father’s duty to deliver the death notification. From his account, it was by far the hardest thing my father ever had to do.
“They look at you like it’s your fault. And some part of you wonders if they’re right. Even if it makes no sense. Obviously, I didn’t give him the stroke, but the stress of the job contributed. You wonder if you could have done more, all while delivering the worst news in the world.”
In a way, he’d been fortunate, my father. Because he at least had the luxury of doubt. He couldn’t say, definitively, that he’d contributed to his partner’s death. It was unknowable.
My case was much clearer cut. It was early days, I hadn’t known what I was doing, and Jinny had paid the price for my mistakes. I hadn’t pulled the trigger, or pushed her in front of the bolt, but she would be alive today if I hadn’t made those mistakes.
And now I had to own it.
There’d be recompense, of course. Assurances that many of those responsible were already dealt with, the rest would be shortly, and enough selve for a single civilian living within reasonable means to sustain themselves indefinitely.
But, having been on the other side of it, I knew the truth.
Nothing would replace the daughter she’d lost.
I stepped out of the car and climbed the steps of Jinny’s suburban home, preparing to deliver the news.
/////
Once I told her I had news regarding Jinny, Marjorie ushered me in.
The three-bedroom house looked like a snapshot, captured from a more modern time before Users roamed the street with swords and maces. The plants flanking either side of the door were well-watered and healthy, and the expensive-looking wood paneling was polished and untouched. This region had a wealth of strong Users, and with most of the violence occurring closer to the city center, there was a good chance Marjorie could likely hide in her home.
I shifted, glancing over the door and finding no evidence of forced-entry, more or less supporting that assumption.
There was a glinting metal placard above the door inscribed with a flowery font:
Be Kind to One Another — Ephesians 4:32
Bounding, scrambling footsteps thundered across the tiled floor as two Huskies with classic coloring, tall as my waist, raced over to greet me with wagging tails and lolling tongues. I reached down and let them smell me, then crouched down and scratched them both behind the ears. A third—older, judging from its cloudy eyes, raised its head balefully in greeting.
From the little time we’d spent together, I knew Jinny loved her dogs. So it was a relief to see they were intact. A bit thin, judging from the loose skin, but intact.
“You have a lovely home, Miss Stiles.” I said automatically. At some point I’d shoved my hands into the kangaroo pocket of my hoodie.
“Thank you, dear.” She smiled at me from behind the counter, rummaging around unseen. The first thing that struck me walking in was that she was older than I’d expected. She’d given up on dying her hair, and let what was once platinum blonde fade to a regal silver, accented by a plethora of gentle wrinkles and crow’s feet “Tea? Or Coffee?”
“That’s not necessary.” I said quickly, not wanting to put her out before I delivered the worst news of her life.
“None of that.” She gave me a stern look. “Have a seat. It might be Disneyland outside but some of us still care about southern hospitality.”
I cut right to it. “I have bad news.”
She stilled, her movements and rummaging coming to a slow stop. Her face and subsequent expression were shielded by an open cupboard. “Yes. Gathered that from the messages.” There was enough bite in the words that it caught me off-guard. Seconds later, her voice was back to normal, carrying the subtlest edge. “Columbian or French Roast?”
“Uh. Columbian would be lovely.” I said, surrendering. Of course she’d realized that something had happened to Jinny by now. People grieved in their own way, and ritual—whether it was a funeral or pre-discussion coffee—was a simple way of expressing and managing that grief.
“Columbian it is.”
As she went about the process of brewing it, even going so far as humming a tune that sounded ancient and repetitive, I felt my uneasiness grow. It was possible Marjorie was in denial. That she was expecting me to tell her that Jinny had been injured in the transposition, or that she needed help. If that was the case, this was likely to turn explosive quickly. Jinny had hinted, though never outright stated, that she and her mother had a difficult relationship, though she’d been vague around the details.
I needed to be ready to handle this as smoothly as possible, comfort her if she cried, and be an empathetic and compassionate ear.
None of which came naturally and made me profoundly uncomfortable to even think about.
By the time she returned with small steaming cups, I was almost ready to leap out the window.
“Try it,” she urged, pushing the cup closer to my mouth. “It’s the perfect temperature. Won’t stay that way for long.”
I did as she asked, and kept my expression stone-neutral as the blandest, stalest coffee I’d every tasted washed down my throat.
“Good,” I said.
She sipped from her cup and wrinkled her nose. “Beans are a bit old, but I like to think I still have the knack.” She fixed me with a cool stare. “Now, what were you in such a hurry to tell me?”
I took a deep breath and launched into the version of events I’d rehearsed. Staying surface level but as close to the truth as possible and censoring critical or gory details. Jinny was a User. She was part of a small group of Users early on who undertook a trial and overcame it. I paid special attention to her achievements during the trial, how she’d done well and saved multiple lives. And grew vague again, when I described how the group was attacked on exit. Fibbing a bit when I described her death as quick and painless.
Because while it might have been quick, nothing about it was painless.
Marjorie’s expression remained neutral throughout the telling. When I reached Jinny’s death, I thought I saw something flash through her eyes.
Regret?
But it was gone too fast for me to identify. Slowly, Marjorie lowered her cup and placed it on the dark-wood table between the two sitting chairs, still completely composed.
“And where… is her body?” Marjorie asked, voice a million miles away.
“Gone.” I said. For a brief moment, I considered mentioning the User core before discarding the notion. She’d likely ask for it, and there was no guarantee she’d return it—especially if Vernon’s necromancy research bore fruit and we told her why we needed it back. “The Users that ambushed us covered their tracks.”
“Of course.” Marjorie sniffled, then laughed. “Can’t even put a bow on it and bury her properly.” Slowly, her eyes trailed to me. “Why are you here?”
Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
I blinked. “To… notify—”
“Not that.” She held up a hand. “You specifically. For that matter, why were you with her in such a dangerous place?”
“Acting as support—”
“So you weren’t the boyfriend?”
“What?”
“Were you fucking my daughter?” The edge in Marjorie’s voice overtook her quiet demeanor.
What the hell?
I was too taken aback to do anything other than gape. Eventually, I managed to shake my head.
“Good for you.” Marjorie said, staring towards the wall. “Always told her there’s no charm in a trampled field. Not that she listened. Chances are you would have caught something.”
It took a helluva a lot at this point to throw me this far off axis, but she’d managed it. Finally, she seemed to notice how utterly taken aback I was. “You must think poorly of me.”
Yes.
Aloud, barely able to string the sentence together, I said. “We all deal with tragedy in our own way.”
“Oh, I’m not grieving.” Marjorie shook her head. “I’ve already grieved.”
“Because of the illness?” I asked, trying one last time to give her the benefit of the doubt.
Marjorie rolled her eyes. “That excuse for the evil she did? No. I’d be surprised if it was even real.”
“It was an auto-immune disease. She had medication for it.”
“Doctors prescribe pills for anything these days.” Marjorie stated, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “My grief was for the innocent daughter I lost. I feel nothing for the whore who took her place.”
It was then that I realized two things. The first, was that Jinny’s mother was not the sort of person who could be reasoned with.
The second, was that I needed to leave.
Now.
I sent her the pre-written contract that followed a layout one of Kinsley’s researchers discovered, one that allowed the transfer of selve from one party to another without arbitrage restrictions. “Confirm that for me, if you would.”
“What’s it for?”
“Transfer of assets.”
After she confirmed the prompt, I withdrew a bag of fifty-thousand selve. Given physical form it was as heavy as blood money and made for a more dramatic display than I would have preferred as I lifted it with one hand and dropped it on the ground with a loud clink. “This should cover your necessities for the next few months. Half a year if you stretch it, give or take. Stay inside. Especially during the transposition. If the current trend continues, most of the really bad shit pops up around downtown. In the meantime, don’t get sick. And I’d start thinking about what you intend to do when it runs out.”
She stiffened. “I don’t like your tone, or your profanity. And don’t need your assistance.”
“I’m just the foulmouthed courier. The selve is inheritance, courtesy of your dead daughter.”
“Take your pity and get out.”
“Course you think of it that way. Any sort of help is a handout.” I stood, pushing my hands in my pockets, eyeing the stacked up column of Charmin toilet paper next to the hall, far more than any single person could reasonably use in over a half-decade. She’d been one of the early preppers, the people snagging everything they could get off the shelves and maxing out their amex’s before the economy collapsed. I stared through her. It was so obvious, despite her airs, how small she was. “Sucker’s bet you’ve never struggled. Never had to lift a finger for anything. Probably worked a few years out of college at most before you locked it down with a rich guy who paid off your grants—”
“—As if your generation ever worked a day in their lives—”
“He knocks you up, you cut him loose. Congratulations, you’ve escaped the middle-class.”
White hot rage told me I’d struck a bullseye. “He left me.”
“Obviously.”
Marjorie stood, fists clenched at her side. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. And you have no right to judge me.”
I observed her coldly. “Oh, don’t get me wrong. I don’t have a problem with what you did. If anything, I respect it. You played your cards well. At the end of the day a hustle’s a hustle. But I’m not the one cowering in my ivory tower calling other people whores.”
As she simmered and shook to the point she was nearly vibrating, the small voice in my head told me that this was enough. I’d made my point clearly enough that the bug in my ear would stop chittering after I’d left.
But Marjorie wasn’t done. She advanced on me, all fire and venom. “How old are you, seventeen, eighteen? You think you’re tough coming in here, bullying a grieving old woman?”
“Thought you’d already grieved.”
“We’re all mourning.” Her lip trembled. “As we should be. People are killing each other in the streets. The beasts of the apocalypse walk among us, and creatures from the beyond deign to tell us we are in need of correction.Us. Gods children, created in his image. And every day we stray further from him. Not that someone as arrogant as you would give a single thought towards a power greater than himself.”
It wasn’t that she was religious. Speaking as a lifelong resident of the south, there were plenty of normal, well-adjusted human beings who were devout in one faith or another. The problem was that Marjorie was an extremist with no one left to burn on her pyre. And I didn’t catch easy.
“Your beliefs are none of my business. And as an agnostic—”
She scoffed. “—atheist with extra steps—”
“—I’ve given it plenty of consideration.” I talked over her acidly.
Images of the torment Jinny must have endured at the hands of this woman proliferated through my mind. Jinny herself was one of the kindest people I’d ever met, bordering on naïve but never quite crossing into it. And to see the naked hatred she’d endured, and the person she’d become despite it?
I twisted the knife. I had to. “Gotta wonder, have you truly thought this through?”
Marjorie took a step backward, seeing something in my expression she didn’t like. “What… do you mean?”
“Guessing you’ve bunkered down and stayed static since this all started. Haven’t networked. Few people in your old circles left, if any. Which means it’s just you, a bag of money, and whatever else you squirreled away at the beginning. And six months from now, you won’t even have that.”
The gears in her mind turned as she looked from the bag, to me, to the bag again. “It’s not my fault the world has changed.”
“True.”
“I never asked for this. None of us did.”
“On that, we actually agree.”
Her cold fingers gripped at my forearm. “That’s a system car outside, isn’t it? And I can’t imagine my daughter was clever enough to earn all that money. Clearly you’ve done well for yourself.”
Here’s the windup.
I looked down at her hand on my arm until she removed it.
Marjorie almost scowled, but she’d had practice, and the sweet, demure facade held. “Surely you have parents of your own. They must have struggled with how quickly everything moved. It’s harder for older folks, dealing with drastic changes in the world.”
Lady. My mother’s a convicted felon and recovering alcoholic who’s spent more time relapsing than breathing and hasn’t held down a steady job in nearly a decade. And if I had a choice, I’d still choose her a thousand times before I chose you.
“It took her some time, but she adjusted.” I said aloud.
“Because you were there for her. Now imagine what it’s been like for me.” She pressed a hand to her chest. “A mother whose daughter would barely speak to her before she died.”
And the pitch.
“That how you see it?” I asked, unimpressed.
“You took her from me. You and the rest of her shitty little friends. You all decided to play hero and took her from me and left me with nothing.” Marjorie raged, shifting on a dime, spittle flying from her mouth as she screamed in my face.
I didn’t budge, my forehead inches from hers. “Miss Stiles, are you fishing for a handout?”
“You—”
“No one wants to work anymore. Why don’t you pull yourself up by your bootstraps. Network. Put the effort in. Keep sending in resumes, eventually you’ll find something. I’m sure the qualifications for most jobs these days are reasonable. Maybe even more reasonable than they were before. Hell, we have yet to see any real inflation yet, so that’s one-up on the old world. Once you find a place willing to hire you, make sure you keep your nose to grindstone even if the pay sucks. If you can’t afford basic cost of living just find another job. Plenty of people work two jobs these days—”
Slippers scuffed carpet as she backed away, her eyes glazed over. “Callous. Callous and cruel.” I watched emotionlessly as she wandered away from me, back to the kitchen. Her echoing tone was almost dreamlike. “I had a bout of narcolepsy a few years back. Better these days, but I kept the pills. Powerful stuff.” She grunted and rose up to reach for something, and a plastic rattle followed. “almost …took them all during the last event. I know it’s a sin. But with all the sounds, and the gunfire, and the monsters lurking in our streets… I was tempted. Imagining it all happening again? And that it might not even be the last time? Maybe that was the right idea.”
Tempting as it was, I wasn’t going to tell her to go through with it. But I sure as hell would not play this game.
Nick’s voice replayed in my head.
It’s what Jinny would have wanted.
The pile of leashes next to the door caught my eye. When I looked up all three huskies were splayed out on the hardwood floor, panting. They’d picked up on the elevated atmosphere but seemed more confused than stressed.
“Alright. Let’s skip the back and forth and cut a deal.”
There was another rattle as Marjorie placed the bottle down immediately and returned to the living room, victory in her eye. “What kind of deal?”
I crossed my arms. “I’ll put you in touch with a single contact. He’s highly positioned, in the process of rebuilding and rebranding, definitely needs the help.”
“Sounds promising so far…” Marjorie trailed off, expecting more, because of course she did.
“The negotiation of your role and pay is entirely up to you.”
She hesitated, “That’s all you’re willing to do?”
“That is the absolute limit of what I’m willing to do. If you want to tell me that’s not good enough and take a mortal shot of Xanax out of spite, that’s your prerogative. I tried.”
Her eyes flicked towards the kitchen before they returned to me, and she glowered, dropping the weak and feeble act. “Fine.”
“Not so fast. This is a trade.” I tilted my head towards the huskies. “The dogs, along with their collars, leashes, and bowls.”
“They’re lineage breeds. Purer than purebred. Jinny would have settled for mutts, but I insisted. They’re worth far more than that.” She argued.
“Any of them know a guild leader you can bum work from?”
“Bastard.” She clenched her fists.
Realizing this was likely the closest we’d come to an accord, I gathered up the leashes. All three dogs wandered over, more excited by the prospect of a walk than they were concerned by the presence of a stranger.
“Check your messages. I’m sending a contact.” By the time she pulled up her UI, I was already walking away. “See? Networking already.”
/////
I leaned against the Prius, awkwardly holding three leashes and letting the night air wash over me as the dogs ran a train on the nearby postbox. Some part of me still hated the suburbs, the astroturfed grass, the HOA’s, how fake and artificial everything felt. Lately, I kind of got it. It was still normal and mundane. But normal and mundane were getting harder and harder to come by.
The call came in immediately, and I answered. “On second thought, I might have needed backup.”
“Really?” Nick prompted.
“She would have torn you apart.”
“That bad, huh?”
“Worse.”
There was a pause. “Did she get under your skin?”
“No.” I grunted. “Yeah. A little. It takes a special kind of person to make me want to dismantle their life in minutes.” Choosing my words carefully, I gave him the rundown, abridging some of the conversation and blunting Marjorie’s more venomous comments.
There was a long silence. “Man, I wasn’t even there and I’m boiling.”
“Yeah.”
“Kinda surprising you helped her at all.”
“Help is a strong word. Other than the selve, which was rightfully hers if we’re going by old world law, all I really did was steal the dogs and refer her to Roderick.”
“Poor Roderick.” Nick chuckled. “What are you going to do with them?”
I shrugged. “The lodge isn’t even on my radar right now.”
“Talking about the dogs, Matt.”
“Oh. Still figuring that out.” I admitted. “Wouldn’t mind having them around the apartment, assuming Talia’s fine with it. I’ll prep the same meals Jinny did in bulk at the beginning of the week, and I think there’s a dog park nearby. So everything they need is either order-able or in walking distance.”
“Uh. Wasn’t expecting the dog heist, otherwise I would have warned you. They gotta get, like, multiple hours of exercise. Daily.”
“They sure as hell weren’t getting that from Marjorie. I’ll do my best, get someone to handle it when I can’t.” I wrinkled my nose. “Pretty sure she was feeding them Purina.”
“Yikes.” Nick groaned. “We should have checked up on them earlier. I’ll sub in whenever I can, help out. It’s the least I can do.”
“Sae probably will, too.” Another silence followed. When he didn’t say anything or hang up, I knew there was more. “Talk to me.”
“I dunno.” Nick sighed. “Keep thinking about how you’re the most unflappable person I’ve ever met, and it all it took was a single conversation to get your blood up.”
“And how Jinny dealt with that every day?” A cold gust of wind chilled me, blowing hard enough that it created static on the line.
“Yeah… man. On top of all the shit she was dealing with, one thing after another, she had that demon breathing down her neck. But despite all the judgement and manipulation…”
“—not to mention psychological abuse, emotional extortion, gaslighting—” I filled in, barely making a dent.
“Despite all that, she still somehow managed to be the best person I knew. She was vulnerable, and honest, and real. No matter what life threw at her, she never gave up on trying to make the best of it. And then…”
“And then she fucking died.” I finished, trying to tamp down on the anger as soon as it surfaced, only partially succeeding. “I know. I know it sucks and nothing about it is fair. But try to focus on what we can change. Vernon’s making progress. In the low fifties now, and everything’s advancing faster since he unlocked the ability to work with multiple cores. The abilities are looking promising.”
“Promise me.” Nick said, his voice dead serious.
“Can’t promise what I can’t know, Nick.”
“No—Just that we’ll do everything we can to bring her back. Even if it’s a limited resource, and the smart thing to do would be to save it. Even if it costs us. We owe her that.”
“Jinny was always first in line. But. Yeah.” I closed my eyes. “I promise.”