Read Online The Courier (San Angeles) by Gerald Brandt - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Gerald Brandt
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happened. They wouldn’t send another courier after that, and I’d disappear while everyone figured out what to do. Find a place to stay for a couple of weeks. My hand reached into my pocket again, searching for Oscar, wanting to hold him for luck. I stopped before sliding my hand in too deep, mad at myself for not remembering. And being so weak.
I crept down the ramp, sticking close to the walls, and entered Level 1.
LEVEL 3—TUESDAY, AUGUST 9, 2140 11:45 P.M.
Quincy’s comm unit rang just as he was reaching for it. The van in front of him was riddled with holes. A couple of the kids had made it out, and their bodies lay a short distance from the van, facedown in pools of blood, multiple bullet holes in their backs.
One big fucking mess. No girl, no package, and one big fucking mess.
Quincy knew without looking who was on the other end of the connection. He sighed and raised the unit to his ear.
“Hello.”
“You keep making mistakes.” Jeremy’s voice was calm and conversational, never a good sign when something had gone wrong.
“Yes, sir.”
“We’ve tracked her, and think we know where she’s going.”
Quincy’s grip tightened on the phone. “Just let me know where.”
“Not this time. Three mistakes in one night is more than enough, don’t you think? I’ve sent Abby.”
“I want this one.” Quincy could feel the blood rising up his face. He hid the anger he felt from his voice.
“Clean up your last mess, we’ll talk tomorrow.”
The connection dropped and Quincy squeezed the comm unit tighter until he felt the plastic start to flex. He turned to the guy that had taken the first shot and started the slaughter on the street.
“Clean this up, before you end up just like them.”
Quincy turned, his heel leaving a clean circle in the dust and sand on the road, and stalked back to his vehicle.
LEVEL 1—WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 10, 2140 5:00 A.M.
As soon as I hit the rubble-strewn street, I veered off to the side and crouched behind a massive concrete barrier protecting the ramp’s walls. The air clung to my skin, oily and thick. I scanned the surrounding area, lingering on the darker shadows and places where someone could be hiding, using my helmet to try and pierce the deep gloom. There weren’t any flashy billboards or ads here. No one on Level 1 could afford what they were trying to sell.
This late at night, or early in the morning, I guess, only the desperate and the insane entered Level 1. Which had its good and bad points. The good point was that no one really expected it to happen. Even if the local gangs had posted someone to watch the ramps, chances were they would be half asleep and not paying attention. The bad point was that, well, you had to be desperate or insane. I was a lot of both.
I let out a long slow breath, one I didn’t even realize I was holding. It looked like luck was finally on my side. My lid’s enhancedvision picked glints of light off of broken glass and the rough edges on the busted brick walls, but no movement, no sign of anyone watching the ramp’s exit.
Revulsion crawled up my back as I scanned the area. Christ, to think I had lived in this hellhole for almost a year and a half. Just the smell of it made me want to throw up. A putrid mixture of stale air, garbage, and god knows what else. Why anyone would willingly stay down here was beyond me. If I could get out, anyone could.
At least it would be a good place to hide out for tonight.
It had been a long time since I’d been down to Level 1. Once I made it out, I vowed I would never come back. Now I was being forced here, back into my hole to hide. I could almost feel the hands on my shoulders, pushing me back, pushing me into this man-made hell. The low ceiling, only fifteen meters above my head, didn’t help the feeling of oppression.
The Ambients started to rise, reducing the shadows lying close to the ground. I checked the time again. Five in the fucking morning. I’d spent so much time hiding
I crept down the ramp, sticking close to the walls, and entered Level 1.
LEVEL 3—TUESDAY, AUGUST 9, 2140 11:45 P.M.
Quincy’s comm unit rang just as he was reaching for it. The van in front of him was riddled with holes. A couple of the kids had made it out, and their bodies lay a short distance from the van, facedown in pools of blood, multiple bullet holes in their backs.
One big fucking mess. No girl, no package, and one big fucking mess.
Quincy knew without looking who was on the other end of the connection. He sighed and raised the unit to his ear.
“Hello.”
“You keep making mistakes.” Jeremy’s voice was calm and conversational, never a good sign when something had gone wrong.
“Yes, sir.”
“We’ve tracked her, and think we know where she’s going.”
Quincy’s grip tightened on the phone. “Just let me know where.”
“Not this time. Three mistakes in one night is more than enough, don’t you think? I’ve sent Abby.”
“I want this one.” Quincy could feel the blood rising up his face. He hid the anger he felt from his voice.
“Clean up your last mess, we’ll talk tomorrow.”
The connection dropped and Quincy squeezed the comm unit tighter until he felt the plastic start to flex. He turned to the guy that had taken the first shot and started the slaughter on the street.
“Clean this up, before you end up just like them.”
Quincy turned, his heel leaving a clean circle in the dust and sand on the road, and stalked back to his vehicle.
LEVEL 1—WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 10, 2140 5:00 A.M.
As soon as I hit the rubble-strewn street, I veered off to the side and crouched behind a massive concrete barrier protecting the ramp’s walls. The air clung to my skin, oily and thick. I scanned the surrounding area, lingering on the darker shadows and places where someone could be hiding, using my helmet to try and pierce the deep gloom. There weren’t any flashy billboards or ads here. No one on Level 1 could afford what they were trying to sell.
This late at night, or early in the morning, I guess, only the desperate and the insane entered Level 1. Which had its good and bad points. The good point was that no one really expected it to happen. Even if the local gangs had posted someone to watch the ramps, chances were they would be half asleep and not paying attention. The bad point was that, well, you had to be desperate or insane. I was a lot of both.
I let out a long slow breath, one I didn’t even realize I was holding. It looked like luck was finally on my side. My lid’s enhancedvision picked glints of light off of broken glass and the rough edges on the busted brick walls, but no movement, no sign of anyone watching the ramp’s exit.
Revulsion crawled up my back as I scanned the area. Christ, to think I had lived in this hellhole for almost a year and a half. Just the smell of it made me want to throw up. A putrid mixture of stale air, garbage, and god knows what else. Why anyone would willingly stay down here was beyond me. If I could get out, anyone could.
At least it would be a good place to hide out for tonight.
It had been a long time since I’d been down to Level 1. Once I made it out, I vowed I would never come back. Now I was being forced here, back into my hole to hide. I could almost feel the hands on my shoulders, pushing me back, pushing me into this man-made hell. The low ceiling, only fifteen meters above my head, didn’t help the feeling of oppression.
The Ambients started to rise, reducing the shadows lying close to the ground. I checked the time again. Five in the fucking morning. I’d spent so much time hiding
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