Read Online New Taboos by John Shirley - Free Book Online

not going to let me go.”
    â€œRudy!”
    But he was running toward the worm now. Still doped up, he was like a running drunk, wobbling along, almost falling, stumbling sometimes, but picking up speed.
    He looked over a shoulder. “Get in the car!” he shouted. “Go!”
    The worm was about forty yards back. Rudy was running across the road now, drawing the worm off to the opposite side.
    â€œFucking
go!”
he shouted, over his shoulder. “Please!”
    She turned and walked mechanically to the front of the car—a wave of fear caught up to her, as if it were coming ahead of the worm to get her, to hold her down for it. She had to struggle to make her fingers work on the door handle. She got the car door open, ducked in, stampedthe brake, put the car in gear and slammed her foot on the accelerator. The door was still open, a warning chime going off, but she kept accelerating, looking in the mirror just once, to see Rudy facing the worm, his arms upraised in unmitigated terror …
    The worm slammed down on him like a fly swatter.
    She gasped and forced her attention back to driving, and saw she’d wandered over the center line. Another car was rushing toward her. She hit the brakes, twisted the wheel, and her car spun like a carnival ride—then jolted to a stop, the engine dead. Faye sat there hyperventilating, trying to figure out how to get the car going again, her hands trembling.
    The car she’d almost hit was backing up. It stopped beside her. “Faye?”
    She looked up to see Phil, and two men with him. One of them, in the back seat, was a dark-skinned man wearing a uniform.
    For a long moment she thought he was a guard from Statewide and Phil was here to hand her back over to them.
    Then she looked closer at the uniform, and saw that it was U.S. Marshals Service.

    â€œSo they weren’t letting me go,” she said.
    Phil shook his head. “It does look like they set you up—‘she was helping a prisoner escape.’ You were supposed to get killed in the recovery process.”
    â€œHow many times did I thank you for coming in person?”
    â€œThree. Enough. You want another drink?”
    She shook her head. They were sitting in a leather-backed booth, in a dark, fairly noisy bar half a block from the San Diego branch of the Justice Department. It was too early to get drunk, but she thought Phil was close to smashed already. He’d had three vodka gimlets.
    She thought about asking him to go to dinner with her, just for the company. But he might misunderstand. He’d feel pressured to come. His wife would be waiting at home …
    â€œAnyway,” he said, “you should thank Hortense. She wasn’t going to leave my damn office till I listened to her. Christ I can’t believe you thought I’d set you up!”
    â€œI wasn’t exactly thinking rationally then. And no one seemed to check on me.”
    â€œThey told us you’d blown off the appointment! Said you never showed up at all! We thought you were rescheduling or something. I mean—who thought this shit was going on!”
    She almost argued that. But finally, just waved her hand dismissively. “Whatever. I
did
thank Hortense. Took me all day Thursday to find her. We were like hugging and jumping around. She said she’d testify if somebody hid her out somewhere …”
    â€œShe might have to testify. I’m not sure how seriously she’ll be taken in court but … you might need her to testify. Statewide’s attorneys are still talking as if maybe they’re going to go with the story that it was all a mix-up, and your story is some kid of revenge fantasy.”
    She snorted. “Justice department knows better. The marshals found the girls in there.”
    He nodded. “You got those women set free, and Skaffel’s been arrested, and that Burse woman … that’s something. I don’t know how much more we