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Authors: A.J. Maguire
Tags: Science-Fiction
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him. His mother had preloaded the program and she was after one thing; Caresse Zimmerman.
***
"Ack!" Reesa stopped walking, rifling through her bag and muttering.
Kate paused with her, watching in amusement as her friend lowered the shoulder bag in defeat. In her opinion, the wide patchwork fabric thing that Reesa carried could never be called a purse. It was too big, with straps long enough that it could be worn crisscross over the chest. With a sigh and a shake of her head Reesa handed Kate the keys to her apartment.
"Let yourself in," she said. "I left my voice recorder in the car."
Although a voice recorder was not something Kate would have taken the time to go get, especially when the trip required another three story climb to Reesa's apartment, she just laughed and took the keys. Dubbing the girl's strange compulsion as just another quirk of being an author, Kate turned and carried her luggage to the apartment door. She'd been there enough times that she knew Mrs. Bergum from apartment 302 wouldn't be alarmed at her presence. Most of the time the little widow would open her door a crack and check who was coming - she said she never could see through the peep hole - but today she didn't.
The lock was loose when Kate used the key, which made her frown. But the handle turned and the door swung open, so she thought nothing of it. Until, of course, she stepped in to find three men standing in the middle of Reesa's front room. She paused, luggage half in the doorway and blinked twice, hoping her imagination was getting the better of her.
Sunlight pushed in through the sheer white curtains of the bay window just to her left, silhouetting the bodies of the men before her. At most she could make out the height and build for each, which ranged from trim and tall, to bulky and an inch or so above her own five foot ten. Her heart lurched as she recognized the distinct shape of a weapon in the hand of the closest man.
Burglar - was that term used anymore? Reesa used the word "assailant" a lot in her work and for some reason it seemed to fit the situation so she stuck with it.
One of the men - assailants - made a startled sound, something like a gasp and a grunt, and the weapon faltered, lowering a fraction.
"I really hope you guys just have the wrong apartment," Kate said.
The gun was just within reach, the sleek barrel of silver telling her that the caliber was something like 9mm, but it didn't look like any of the weapons she'd encountered before. It was smoother somehow, more curvy than blocky. What truly alarmed her, however, was the way the man held it; two-handed, military style, his shadowed features gazing down past the muzzle and aiming at her.
Trained, she thought and lifted both hands slowly. Her luggage dropped at her left foot, teetering until it leaned against her leg. That would be a problem when she made a move but she turned her palms outward, proving she was unarmed, and took a deep breath. In the back of her mind she knew that something should have happened by now. The general shock in the room seemed to intensify rather than fade.
"Mesa?"
This came from the assailant with the gun. There was an odd accent to the name but she recognized it at once. Mesa Prosser from Reesa's books. Only the way he'd said it made it sound more like May-zah than her own translation of Mess-ah when she'd been reading.
"Kate," she said and calculated the distance between her hand and the weapon.
She knew she was facing a set of deranged Lothogy fans and dearly hoped Reesa would show up to put an end to the standoff. But as the men glanced at each other Kate remembered how the last fanatic had gone out, blowing up an entire store front to get Reesa's attention. Kate frowned, determined that she would not be on the evening news, and took matters into her own hands. She'd been in the Army for four years, had bullets fly over her head, she was an instructor at Kenpo International Karate; she could do something about
***
"Ack!" Reesa stopped walking, rifling through her bag and muttering.
Kate paused with her, watching in amusement as her friend lowered the shoulder bag in defeat. In her opinion, the wide patchwork fabric thing that Reesa carried could never be called a purse. It was too big, with straps long enough that it could be worn crisscross over the chest. With a sigh and a shake of her head Reesa handed Kate the keys to her apartment.
"Let yourself in," she said. "I left my voice recorder in the car."
Although a voice recorder was not something Kate would have taken the time to go get, especially when the trip required another three story climb to Reesa's apartment, she just laughed and took the keys. Dubbing the girl's strange compulsion as just another quirk of being an author, Kate turned and carried her luggage to the apartment door. She'd been there enough times that she knew Mrs. Bergum from apartment 302 wouldn't be alarmed at her presence. Most of the time the little widow would open her door a crack and check who was coming - she said she never could see through the peep hole - but today she didn't.
The lock was loose when Kate used the key, which made her frown. But the handle turned and the door swung open, so she thought nothing of it. Until, of course, she stepped in to find three men standing in the middle of Reesa's front room. She paused, luggage half in the doorway and blinked twice, hoping her imagination was getting the better of her.
Sunlight pushed in through the sheer white curtains of the bay window just to her left, silhouetting the bodies of the men before her. At most she could make out the height and build for each, which ranged from trim and tall, to bulky and an inch or so above her own five foot ten. Her heart lurched as she recognized the distinct shape of a weapon in the hand of the closest man.
Burglar - was that term used anymore? Reesa used the word "assailant" a lot in her work and for some reason it seemed to fit the situation so she stuck with it.
One of the men - assailants - made a startled sound, something like a gasp and a grunt, and the weapon faltered, lowering a fraction.
"I really hope you guys just have the wrong apartment," Kate said.
The gun was just within reach, the sleek barrel of silver telling her that the caliber was something like 9mm, but it didn't look like any of the weapons she'd encountered before. It was smoother somehow, more curvy than blocky. What truly alarmed her, however, was the way the man held it; two-handed, military style, his shadowed features gazing down past the muzzle and aiming at her.
Trained, she thought and lifted both hands slowly. Her luggage dropped at her left foot, teetering until it leaned against her leg. That would be a problem when she made a move but she turned her palms outward, proving she was unarmed, and took a deep breath. In the back of her mind she knew that something should have happened by now. The general shock in the room seemed to intensify rather than fade.
"Mesa?"
This came from the assailant with the gun. There was an odd accent to the name but she recognized it at once. Mesa Prosser from Reesa's books. Only the way he'd said it made it sound more like May-zah than her own translation of Mess-ah when she'd been reading.
"Kate," she said and calculated the distance between her hand and the weapon.
She knew she was facing a set of deranged Lothogy fans and dearly hoped Reesa would show up to put an end to the standoff. But as the men glanced at each other Kate remembered how the last fanatic had gone out, blowing up an entire store front to get Reesa's attention. Kate frowned, determined that she would not be on the evening news, and took matters into her own hands. She'd been in the Army for four years, had bullets fly over her head, she was an instructor at Kenpo International Karate; she could do something about
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