Broken Angel Page 2

  “Hi,” she said, as if this were an everyday occurrence. They parted, and she made her way out. Was it actually darker here, or was she imagining it? The vertishaft was surrounded the convex fronts of dark brick buildings. Between them, six roads radiated, each as dowdy and downtrodden-looking as the others. Xandrie had been down there once before, just to see of it was as bad as everybody said. It was, and she left with no great desire to go back. But now, it was the safest place. She could lie low there until she figured out her next move.

  One of the thoroughfares leading away from the vertiport appeared to have a park next to it a few hundred yards down. With nothing else to go on, Xandrie figured she would head down that one, and began to head down that one. She was soon in a world of spiked fences around beat up apartment buildings, discount stores, and dodgy-looking, largely ethnic people standing on corners, smoking and watching her, underneath the same artificial sky that covered all the other levels. She noticed one man on the other side of the road tap his buddy’s arm and point to her.

  Xandrie looked back over her right shoulder. Crap! There he is! Jan had somehow followed her, probably after changing elevators at the top. He was walking quickly and determinedly towards her. Xandrie sprinted again. The hardened locals gasped and scattered at the sight of the black-clad, gun-wielding assassin.

  The air rushed past Xandrie’s face as she jumped over cracks in dirty sidewalks. Where would she go now? There was only option left, a place that few that people ever went: the underworld.

  New Chicago had been built on top of the original city, without demolishing any part of the old buildings below fifty feet. Hence, the city’s “basement” was a dark space, where bad things crawled and terrible urban legends wafted up the shafts to the rest of the city. Xandrie dashed across the wide thoroughfare, to the whiz of bullets, and dived into the open door of a discount store.

  “Underworld! Now!” she said to the elderly, black shopkeeper.

  “What’d you want with that, girl? They’ll eat you alive down there.”

  “No time. How do I get there?”

  “I’m not gonna be responsible for…”

  “Tell me now or I’ll kill you.”

  The old man’s mouth flapped several times, before he could collect himself enough to answer. Xandrie watched the door anxiously.

  “Okay. There’s a trapdoor back here.” He led Xandrie through a curtain of multi-colored ribbons into the stock area at the back of the store. He pointed between two metal shelving units. “There.”

  A woman screamed, as several low pops came from the front of the store. The old man collapsed, clutching his chest as a red stain spread quickly across his checked shirt. Fuck! Xandrie gasped. What an absolute piece of crap. She found the square outline in the worn tiled floor and yanked at the small steel ring inset into it. It opened easily, into a pit of blackness.

  Xandrie could just make out the top few rungs of a ladder. She leapt in and grabbed the metal sides in one motion. There was no time to climb. She clasped her hands and feet to either side and slid.

  The low light revealed the flat roof of a buildings some twenty feet down. Jan’s face appeared in the square of light above, as she leapt off onto the rough, worn shingles. Now where? There was a door. She dashed to it and practically threw herself down the worn wooden stairs into the decaying structure’s heart. Down two floors and through another door into the landing of a long-abandoned apartment buildings. Dirty blue doors either side. Xandrie picked one a few doors to her left, dashed in, and shut it behind her. The moldy smell of rot swirled around her. Peeling wallpaper and a child’s doll carelessly abandoned on the floor greeted her. She sprinted into an empty bedroom, the only one whose door was intact. Closing it behind her, she saw that the window, already propped open, led to a fire escape. Thank God! She scrambled out onto the rusty metal structure and headed up a few steps so she couldn’t be seen if he entered the room.

  Xandrie stood like a frightened cat, all her senses straining for any sign of Jan. A minute stretched by with no sight or sound of him. Then another, and another. Her heartbeat began to slow, while her gut twisted. The fog of war enveloped her again, with the sound of rockets, drones, helicopters and explosions all around her, pummeling her with shockwaves, fires so hot her face felt like it would burn.

  Xandrie wasn’t sure how much time had passed when she opened her eyes. She could make out the alley below and a portion of the street, dimly lit from somewhere to the right, out of sight. It was eerily, oppressively quiet. At last, she had shaken her half-robotic pursuer. She had badly underestimated him. Xandrie sat and reflected for awhile. It was apparent that if she went topside again, Jan or his cronies would find her and it would all be over.

  ****

  Xandrie figured her best option was not to be seen. She crept along the back alley, between broken back fences and partially demolished garages, casting long shadows from the one working street light. Why did they just build the new city over this place and forget about it? She figured it was probably the original city’s west side.

  Xandrie reached the end of the alley, and peeked cautiously around the side of a house. A couple of people were walking along a road that had actually carried motor vehicles at one time, but was now a cracked wreck of its former self. How on earth would she find another exit from the underworld? In order to avoid Jan, she would have to reemerge far from where she had entered this shadowy world of myth. She would have given anything for a burger and fries, for comfort, light, and safety. Not even sure what to look for in terms of an exit, Xandrie darted across the road, into the near-darkness of another alley.

  If she turned right, she could keep following the road, out of sight behind the houses. Just as she did so, she heard voices yelling from somewhere to her left. They sounded like they were arguing. Not wanting any part of it, she broke into a run. That would also help her stay warm; she definitely wasn’t dressed for a dank wasteland where the rot seemed to penetrate her every pore.

  Xandrie crossed an intersecting alley. Suddenly, there was a whooshing sound behind her. She dove behind the broken, pale yellow cinder block wall of a garage, just in time to see a man speed past on a mountain bike.

  Heart pounding, she reemerged and resumed her walk, to the mournful sound of a dog howling from somewhere far off. It echoed from the solid black sky that someone centuries ago would be the only thing covering this place. And then she heard the double click of a shotgun.

  “Who goes here?” a rattly, old African-American voice said.

  Xandrie jumped and turned to run.

  “I ain’t gonna hurt’cha, missy. But you shouldn’t be here,” said a gray-haired, skinny man in a dark, holey sweatshirt.”

  “I mean no harm. I’ll go now,” Xandrie said, backing away.

  “Lady, you’re gonna come to harm pretty soon, down here by yourself. Topsiders come down and don’t go back. Lemme offer you a drink, at least.”

  “Umm, that’d be great,” Xandrie said uncertainly, alternately studying the man and swiveling her head around for any signs that she’d walked into a trap.

  “Don’t be afraid o’me. I’m nuttin’ but an old fossil, waitin’ to die.”

  “Umm…”

  “Name’s Tyrone, by the way. And you’d be?”

  “Xandrie.”

  “That’s one o’dem fancy names. We don’t got no Xandries down here.”

  “Nice to meet you.”

  Tyrone muttered something under his breath as he turned and headed down a path next to what had once been a lawn, and up three wooden steps to the ramshackle back door of a two-story house.

  Xandrie followed him into a grime covered relic of a kitchen. The vinyl floor tiles were half worn away, exposing rough floorboards. Tyrone poured a little water from a plastic bucket into a saucepan and put it on a two-ring electric range, turning the unit on.

  “So… this is where you live?”

  “Yep,” Tyrone said, puffing his chest out with obvious p
ride. The creases around his eyes deepened in the shadows. “Dis be my place for fi’ty years now.” His eyes seemed to bore into Xandrie as he studied her face—yet she felt no discomfort. Her spirit felt at ease around the old man.

  “Where do you get your electricity from?” Xandrie asked.

  “Ah, we steal it from topside. Got a regular ol’ grid goin’.”

  “And water?”

  “Wells. Dey goes down 200 feet.” Xandrie noticed the sulphurous smell of the water as it began to heat up. Was this really her city? It might as well have been Venus.

  “And food? Surely you can’t grow it in the dark?”

  “Aid packages. Missionaries drop ‘em in da hatches. Dey swarm all over ‘em like a pack o’ hungry jackals, but dere’s a couple dat pass some along to ol’ Tyrone.”

  “Don’t you… want to live topside?”

  “Dey won’t have us. We be shunned like skunks. By da way, I catch a few o’ dem every now and again. Dey’s good eatin’.”

  “W… why won’t they let you live there?”

  “Dey didn’t give no reason, but we reckon it’s cause we served in Russia.”

  “You were in that war?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Xandrie saw the pride beam from his face again. “But see dey t’ink we’s irradiated. If you was a black man, they wouldn’t even test you.”

  So the stories were true. The public prejudice against the returning veterans had turned into something very dark indeed.

  “I’m sorry… I know what it’s like to fight overseas, but we never had to deal with that.”

  “Oh, you’s a vet too?”

  “Yeah. Sudan, ex-special forces.”

  Tyrone raised his eyebrows. “I only heard snippets and rumors about dat war. Care to fill me in?”

  ****

  Once the drinks were ready—water with a hint of coffee—they sat on the musty couch under the light of a dim bulb, and Xandrie related her war stories, punctuated with “Did dey now?” and “You don’t say!” from Tyrone.

  Then Xandrie told him about her PTSD. This drew a long, knowing nod and an intense look. “Ah yes, ol’ Tyrone came home wit’ a case o’ dat, too. Many of us did. But a purty young t’ing like you don’t deserve it. You is a broken angel.”

  Xandrie felt a connection, and peace from the old man’s heart. Despite living through hell, and then being confined to the underworld and living like a rat, his heart was in one piece, and there was love and care there.

  “Yeah, I guess I am.”

  Tyrone took on a stern demeanor. “Now. You never answered my original question. What is you doin’ here?”

  “I took a job assassinating someone for a guy who I think was from the government. I left the victim for dead, but he wasn’t dead. He chased me all the way from center topside to here. I finally shook him when I came down here a few hours ago now.”

  “Where’d you come in? Laramie and North?”

  “I don’t know. Didn’t see any street signs. I’m completely lost.”

  Tyrone nodded. “Den we’s gonna have to get you out, via a differen’ exit.”

  “I don’t have anywhere to go once I get out, or a plan of what to do.”

  “You’s gonna have to take ‘im out. Only do a proper job of it dis time!”

  Xandrie smiled at his teasing and nodded, then sighed as the reality of his statement prodded at her denial. “Yeah.”

  “But, you’s had enough for one day. What say you stay ‘ere tonight?”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yeah. Da couch is free.”

  “Umm…”

  “Now, I know dis place ain’t much, but you’re safe ‘ere. Dey aren’t gonna follow you in da underworld.”

  “I hope not.” Xandrie thought for a long moment. “How do you protect yourself?”

  Tyrone reached down beside the couch and pulled out a handgun. “Dere’s plen’y mo’ where dis came from.” Xandrie raised her eyebrows. “Yep, don’t count de ol’ dog out yet,” Tyrone continued. “Plus, we got a early warnin’ system.” He pointed at an ancient telephone. “All dis block be connected. We look out fo’ each other.”

  Xandrie saw the fiery intensity in his eyes again, and nodded. “So there’s a community here?”

  “You betcha. Dat’s de other way I lasted dis long!”

  “You’re a unique man, Tyrone. Never met anyone quite like you.”

  Tyrone looked at the wall, and muttered something under his breath.

  “I hope I didn’t offend you.”

  “Nah, you don’ offend me,” he said, looking back at Xandrie.

  “Does it still bother you? The PTSD?” Xandrie asked.

  “Uh, huh. I be hearin’ stuff all da time.”

  “Hyper-vigilance?”

  “Yep. I caught you, didn’t I? And yo’ still a young woman, an’ special forces too!”

  “You sure did. Do you have nightmares?”

  Tyrone nodded. “I hardly sleep some nights.”

  “So it doesn’t go away with time then?”

  “Nah, it don’t. But you know what? I learned to accept it.” Tyrone put his wrinkled hands over his heart. “What yo’ truly accept don’ bother you no mo’.”

  Xandrie nodded slowly. “Just accept it,” she repeated to herself, pondering.

  Later, Xandrie shivered on the couch under musty blankets. No matter how much she covered up, the dank air swirled and blew its foul breath on her. The meal of stray cat—Tyrone was stretching even that until the next food parcel came—wasn’t sitting well. She looked around as the flickering candlelight caused the shadows from the peeling wallpaper to shiver. The eerie silence was punctuated by a dog howling—the same one from before?—and voices. She couldn’t tell how many, or even what ethnicity they were. The underworld had bred accents and dialects all its own.

  Time seemed to tick by second by second. Her VR chip told her it was 1:30 AM. Eventually, it turned to two, and then three. Finally, exhaustion pushed her under.

  ****

  Tyrone shook Xandrie awake. “I think dey might be lookin fo’ yo’.”

  Xandrie was alert in an instant. “Why? How do you know?”

  “De neighbors be callin’. Dere be strange people about. We know most o’ dem around here, an’ dey ain’t from here.”

  “Okay…”

  “Here, I draw’d you a map to get out. Dis be the lay o’ da land here, see.” He pointed to a left-right street. “Dis be da main road in fron’ o’ de house.”

  “Right.”

  “And de X be where yo’ get out. Go upstairs, an’ up a roof ladder, like where yo’ got in.”

  “Okay. Thanks for everything, Tyrone.” She touched his shoulder.

  “Don’ mention it. Any’ting fo’ another vet. Yo’ take care.”

  “You too.”

  Xandrie headed through the kitchen and back out to the alley. After carefully checking both directions, she headed right, quickly and quietly, every nerve straining. At the end of the block, she turned right, and crept the three blocks to the way out.

  ****

  Xandrie headed in through the double doors to the bright lobby of the Veteran’s Administration home on level 34.

  “Can I help you?” the young front desk clerk smiled. Then she frowned slightly as she looked at Xandrie’s unkempt appearance and picked the the stench of the underworld.

  “Yes. I’d like to speak to the manager please.”

  “Sure.”

  An older, curly-haired lady came out to meet Xandrie. “I’m Mavis. How can I hep you?”

  “I know of a veteran who really needs to live here. Right now he lives in the underworld.”

  Mavis raised her eyebrows. “The underworld?”

  “Yes.”

  “Which war?”

  “Russia.”

  “Russia? He must be old.”

  “Yes, I think he’s close to seventy.”

  Mavis’ brow creased. “How long’s he lived there?”

&
nbsp; “All his adult life. He’s a victim of the irradiation scandal.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. Decided to just stay down there.”

  “Huh. I didn’t think it was possible to survive long down there.”

  “Most people don’t. He’s lived on sheer grit. Plus he made connections with people feed and protect him.”

  “His name?”

  “Tyrone. Not sure of his last name.”

  “Well, if he can prove he’s a veteran, we’d love to have him. He’ll have to come to us, though. We can’t be retrieving people from down there.”

  Xandrie nodded. “I’ll get him.” As soon as I take care of a few other things.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Wearing worn sweatpants, an old hoodie, and running shoes that were just about serviceable, Xandrie made her way along the manicured perfection of Maple Avenue. Number 248 very noticeable by its absence. As she got closer, she could make out yellow crime scene tape around the lot where her house had stood. The wreckage no longer smoldered. What was left of the back of the house had been leveled by the fire department for safety. Pain stabbed through her heart as felt the loss of her home and her few possessions. Okay, let’s pull it together. What to do first? Call the insurance company. With what? First, she would have to go to the phone store. Xandrie set off. The camera drone, immobilized but active in the back of her hood, gave her an invisible rear view mirror through her AR chip. Jan was probably still watching and writing.

  Four days later, 248 Maple Avenue looked as if nothing had happened, besides a few scorch marks on the lawn. Xandrie had ordered all new furniture, delivered and set up the same day by robots, and moved back in again. Sitting on her couch, with its new-from-the-factory smell, she thought of Tyrone sitting thousands of feet below in squalor. It was unfair in every way. Could he live with her if it came down to it? Only if he didn’t mind disdainful looks from the neighbors. Xandrie herself had struggled to be accepted in this white bread area. But an elderly black man? He wouldn’t stand a chance. At least he didn’t have to worry about that in the underworld. Which was worse? The poverty of his surroundings or of his soul?

  Now that the honeypot was prepared, Xandrie had some finishing touches to make. She smiled as she cut out a square section of the living room wall, where it adjoined the kitchen, almost in center of the house. She coughed a little from the drywall dust as she lifted out the rough-edged piece. In the space between the walls, she set four pulse grenades sandwiched between two small sheets of plywood, with a servo actuator that would squeeze them together and activate them if she pressed a button on a remote switch on her belt. Four grenades would, of course, have a pretty good range.