Mail Call
It's not about what you know...
It had been a few days since the hit, and things had almost regained a sense of normalcy. I kept my head down, my mind to my work. Tried to pretend my heart didn’t stop anytime someone said my name. I bought a cheap holdout pistol, tucked against the small of my back beneath my shirt. Didn’t tell anyone. It didn’t help me sleep at night, but at least I had a chance. Maybe. More of one than without it.
Things had almost begun to feel normal. I should have known better. It was about lunch time, half the office was out, when a courier arrived at my desk, a package for me to sign for. It wasn’t that unusual, but I’d never seen the uniform before. I didn’t ask. In retrospect, maybe I should have.
I pulled out the manifest on the box I was handed, and read it as the courier walked away, humming an unfamiliar song. The contents were a handful of general office supplies. Supplies I hadn’t ordered. From a company I’d never heard of. Inside the box was, in addition to those supplies, a padded envelope.
I should have just thrown it away. Should have done anything else. But I slit it open and looked inside. I regretted the choice instantly, and felt my stomach sink with the newfound knowledge of the contents. Of the entire set up.
Two photographs of me, at the manager’s terminal. Doctored, but done well. Jacking in, and subsequently leaving. I was alone in each photograph.
The implications were clear. If anyone else saw those pictures, I was a dead man.
On the back of the second photograph was an address and a time. The location was a bit of a commute, and the time a lot closer to present than I wanted it to be.
I ducked out at lunch. I wondered if anyone would notice. Or if I’d even live long enough for it to matter. It was a rough trip home.
I made my way across the familiar streets and turned the corner to my apartment. But as I rounded the corner I felt strong hands wrap around me, one over my mouth, the other pinning my arms behind me, hauling me into the alley before I could make a sound. It was Beryl’s face that kept me from screaming, or trying to pull the gun. She shushed me and grabbed my hand, leading me away from the building as quickly as possible.
I didn’t ask any questions, just followed her through the maze of alleys to a dark, secluded corner. One she seemed to know well, and relaxed in, if only a bit.
“You go back there, you’ll end up on a slab.” She said, staring into my eyes. “Caught them going in. Two trolls, loaded for bear. What the fuck happened?” She more demanded than asked. She couldn't hide the tremble in her hand, but shook it off irritably, balling her fingers up into a heavy fist.
“Sent a courier to me at lunch.” I said, shaking my head. “No company we’ve ever used. Might not even exist. Office supplies I didn’t buy, and an envelope with two pictures.” I said, pulling it out from under my shirt. “Doctored. The guy that grabbed me conspicuously absent.” I said. The implications as clear as a billboard.
“Fucking... “ She didn’t finish the thought. She didn’t have to. They had me. Carrot and stick, minus the carrot, plus one big fucking stick.
“So what’s the play?” I asked, with a helpless shrug. “Do I show up?”
“No choice. You don’t show up, they’ll find you. It’s not like you can go anywhere without someone knowing.” She touched my face, and I understood. I was in the system. Anywhere with a camera. I couldn’t hide. “I’ll… fuck. I don’t know. I’ll get in contact with some people I know. See if the old favors I was owed are still worth anything. Just... “
Her lips met mine. She was always quite a bit larger than me, but as she pulled me into her arms, bent down to meet me as if it were for the first, or last time… I honestly felt small. Fragile. For one fleeting moment, I felt safe in her arms. “Stay alive. Give me time to work on this. Please.”
“I’m not… sure I can promise that. We both know I’m in over my head, Beryl. But I’ll try to keep bullets out of it.” I said, with a shake of my head as I brushed my hand against her cheek. “Keep your head down, stay away from the building.”
“Yeah. Don’t need to tell me twice.” She replied as I ducked out into the street, pulling the collar of my jacket up a little as I walked through the cracked, stained streets towards my destination. Towards a terrifying unknown. I might as well have been wearing a leash. No matter how badly I wanted to go anywhere else, there was only one place I could go now. The last place I wanted to be.
I avoided the places I knew would have cameras. Major intersections, offices, anywhere someone might have a few credits to spend. That meant I had to move through the back alleys, parking lots. Dangerous turf. Dangerous turf for people who knew what they were doing. The confident ones.
I was an office clerk. I bet they could smell my fear. I almost could. Cold sweat on my brow, eyes to the shadows. Every stray motion, every errant breeze sending a fresh spike of adrenaline through me.
It was a modern miracle that I made it intact. But I did.
I kept close to the wall, low and quiet, looking into a decrepit parking garage. Nobody sane would leave anything parked there. The local gangs had turned it into an art exhibit, and somewhere above me, the guttural sounds of a troll metal band echoed through the concrete structure.
I was about to head up when someone stepped out of the shadows, and smiled at me, yellow teeth behind a thin cigarette. “You lost?” I could almost smell their breath from where I stood. I could certainly smell the lack of soap. It was impossible to tell anything more about them in the gloomy, oppressive shadows, as they stepped forward. One hand slipped to my side, ready to pull my hold out pistol. I wondered, somewhere in the back of my other worries, if I'd even hit them. What I knew about guns could fit onto an index card.
Judging from their stature, they were as human as I was, but strung out. Skin taut against bone, hollow eyes watching me intently. “Yeah. You’re lost. I can smell it on you.” The voice was gravel. Rattling with a smoker's cough, as if every breath were being taken out of a paper bag in their chest.
“Not here for you, chuckles.” I said, hooking a thumb towards the ceiling. “You want to explain to them why their package is late?” Was it a bluff? Even I wasn't sure. Would anyone care if I didn't actually show up? Would anyone notice if I bled out down here? As he stepped into the light, he hesitated. For a moment he stared, as if contemplating it.
“You’d better cut out of here, jack. Before I cut something out of ya.” He said, as he brushed past me, his shoulder pushed into mine, and the flash of a blade in his hand. A warning, fortunately for my skin. Less so for the sleeve of my coat.
As he walked away I contemplated pulling the pistol and plugging him. I thought about it longer than I wanted to admit. But I decided I didn’t want to give away having it, and made my way up the greasy, stained ramps. The filth and stink was overwhelming and only seemed to get worse as I went up.
The third floor was one big party. I was the only human. There must have been forty trolls, varying degrees of spun out and fucked up. Loud music, pills, and drugs. A couple of women completely oblivious to it all, jacked into BTL chips, off in their own little world while some of the men took turns with them.
As I took it all in, I had just a moment to register what was happening. The familiar sensation of blades on skin, spurs against my neck. “Well, here I thought you’d do something stupid and end up dead. Still might. After all, you just cost me a bet, breather. That’s fine. We can still play this cool. Walk.”
He marched me through the middle of the party, but everyone pointedly looked anywhere but at him. Through a barricade made of ruined cars, to a much quieter part of the garage.
“You aren’t stupid enough to run.” He said, as he let me go. “Maybe you’re smart enough to listen.”
It was an office, in a manner of speaking. Tables and a desk, a terminal rigged up to steal electricity from the nearby buildings. Probably network access too, if I had to guess. There at the chair was the familiar form of the decker, who didn’t look up from her work.
Slight of build, with pointed ears and a delicate facial structure. She was an elf. She would have been beautiful, maybe in some ways still was. But her face was a mess of cybernetics and scar tissue, hair swept across her left cheek, hiding the worst of the damage. I wondered for a moment if I should look away, or if that would make things worse. I just waited.
She sighed after a few minutes, and finally jacked out, pulling the cable from her head and looking up at me. “You think on your feet, and you have the access I need.” She said, flatly. “I could use you. Or I could have Rake slit your throat and throw you off the side.” She nodded at the troll, who flashed his spurs at me with a knowing smile.
“I might, anyway. When she’s not looking.” He said, in a whisper. “We’ll play it by ear.” He added, nicking the tip of my left ear with the razor edge. I felt the blood drip down to my collar, but I wasn’t in a position to respond to it.
“It’s up to you.” The woman said, looking to Rake. “I won’t lose any sleep. But you’re going to be the one soaking up the bullets if we can’t get into the place without tripping the alarms.”
Rake laughed at that. “Tempting, honestly. I think it’s less risky than putting that part of the job in this idiot’s hands.”
“This idiot,” She replied, meeting my gaze with a smile. “Wiped the footage, then locked the security staff out of the data node, probably forever. He bluffed his way out of their drag net, avoided the guys we sent after him, and didn’t flinch when you cut him. I think there’s a runner in him. Even if he doesn’t know it yet.”
It was a strange thing, being complimented by the woman. It was disconcerting, yet, for just a moment, I felt a flicker of hope in it all. Maybe I wasn’t going to end up in a ditch. Yet.
“Diver.” She said, hooking a thumb at herself. “I run information and comms, not to mention this little slice of paradise. If you do exactly as I say, exactly when I say it, I’ll keep you alive. If not, I’ll leave your corpse for the fucking crows.” It was a hell of an introduction.
“Rake,” She turned, rising from her chair. “Is my lieutenant. My right hand. Fuck with me, and he will break every bone in your body and leave you for the fucking crows. Alive.” She said, as she looked out from the parking garage down into the streets. “And this is, as you might have guessed, ‘The Crow’s Nest’. You run with me, you’re an honorary member. You’re lucky. Not a lot of humans survive an encounter with us. Trolls play rough. Why don’t you take a moment to imagine what I had to do to end up calling shots around here? It wasn’t pretty.”
Rake chuckled at that, and sighed wistfully. “Says you. I can still hear the screams.”
“You,” She said, pointing a slender finger at me. “Are a fucking key card. You have one job. Deliver a package to a warehouse, and get them to open their doors long enough for us to do our job. I need ten minutes to get in, if you can manage that, we all get paid, and you might have more work in the future… or you can go back to your boring desk job and pretend it was all just a bad dream. I don’t fucking care.”
With that, she walked back to her desk, picked up a credit stick and threw it at me. My nervous hands almost fumbled the catch, but I managed to keep ahold of it. “Half up front is how a Crow operates. That’s half of your cut. No fucking questions, and yes, we will be watching you. You and that pretty little slut of yours.” She turned her terminal screen towards me, Beryl’s face, bruised, but intact, in the hands of a troll, who didn’t say a word as he forced her to look at the camera.
“That’s enough, Boxcar. She can go. He gets the point.” She said, into a commlink I didn’t realize she was even wearing.
“You’re welcome to stay and party. Even temporary Crows are still Crows. What you do with your credits is your fucking business. We’ll let you know when and where you need to be.” She dismissed me at that, and Rake stepped out of the way as I walked past, trying to hide the tremble in my legs. I didn’t stay for the party. I didn’t remember getting home. I remember being in the alleyway next to my apartment, the nerves caught up with me, and the lunch I'd had made a return visit, hitting the ground with a wet, sloppy splash. I remember trying to go somewhere else, but I wasn't sure where I was going.
It felt like a long time passed between those moments and the next I was really there for. Just a huge, yawning gap in the hours. It was Beryl sobbing into my shoulder, stress and tension draining from her as she held onto me that called me back to reality. Horrible, horrible reality. If I’d fucked it up, they’d have killed us both. They still might. They seemed to know everything about me. About Beryl. About the life they'd just torn in half and toyed with.
Damned carrion birds.