Had trouble sleeping. Not much. Just a little. Kept thinking how I'd been smart all along to be alone. Have somebody around all the time and before you know it, you're depending on them. And then what? The first sign of trouble, they run out on you. Should have known better. The whole thing made me mad. Wasn't hurt. Just damn mad.
Thought I heard someone at my door during the night. Worked my way to the transparency control, hoping to see B.B. there but found the corridor empty. Probably my imagination. Besides, B.B. had the key I'd given him. He didn't need to fiddle with the door.
This whole situation was getting me spooked. Decided to sleep in the chair for the rest of the night. Left the door transparent. Usually the light from the corridor bothered me when I was trying to sleep, but tonight it was comforting.
Awoke later to the sound of the door sliding open. The pale-faced, fat-nosed fellow who had mollied my neck was standing in the hall behind the redheaded tech. His eyes were wide as he looked me up and down.
"You're really alive! It's dregging impossible!"
Felt like a half-crushed roach pinned in a flashlight beam. But all I could see was the little stub of plastic in the redhead's hand. My mouth was dry as I spoke.
"My key…?"
He smiled. "Your little friend sold it to us for a meal credit."
My fear was suddenly washed away in a gush of abysmal sadness. B.B. had sold me out for another soysteak dinner. As the pale-faced guy nudged the redhead into the room, I found I didn't really care all that much about dying. Too tired, too weak, too many troubles, too much disappointment. Sick of everything. Almost welcomed her.
As she moved toward me, her eyes suddenly bulged in alarm. She started to turn around, and as she did I saw fine crimson lines appear across her throat, across the white of the uniform overlying her breasts, abdomen, and legs. She began to fall, and as she went down she came apart like an overbalanced stack of boxes. The crimson lines quickly bloomed to blotches which became geysers and torrents of red as her head toppled to the left, her lower arms dropped straight down, and the other pieces tumbled to the right. In a matter of seconds the ceiling, the walls, the pale faced guy, and I were all dripping warm red sticky fluid. But most of the red was pooled around the still twitching horror just inside the doorway.
Wiped my eyes and looked up. Saw the guy staring dully at his former associate. Swallowed back my stomach contents and tried to think of a way out of this. An idea of what had happened here was forming in my brain and suddenly I was very anxious to stay alive.
Figuring it was now or never, I started my chair toward the drawer where I kept a small popper. The movement must have shaken Paleface out of his shocked stupor. Suddenly he was reaching into his jump and pulling out a mean-looking blaster. As he raised it, I heard a shrill cry from down the hall. He turned, I looked.
B.B. was in full charge toward Paleface. The kid caught him off balance half way through his turn. He fell backward, his arms whirling like flywheels. Did him no good. He stumbled through the wired doorway and went to pieces. More pumping, twitching sections of body bounced and rolled along my compartment floor.
Looked away in time to see B.B. skid to a halt at the threshhold, then to my horror, saw him slip on a splatter of blood and lose his balance. One hand grabbed onto the jamb while the other flailed — and crossed the plane of the door.
Saw his hand fly off, saw him drop to his knees and stare stupidly at the geysering stump of his wrist.
Without even thinking I had the chair in motion toward the door but it caught up on the bloody meat all over my floor.
"Grab it!" I shouted. "Squeeze it off!" But he didn't seem to hear.
Stumbled out of the chair and up onto my feet. My legs gave out after two steps so I crawled on hands and knees through the gore, praying that my brace would hold my head on and that I'd healed up enough inside so that nothing would slip around. Shouted encouragement all the while, but he just sat there and stared at the stump.
Reached the threshhold and stretched my arm through, holding my breath and hoping I was between the wires. When none of my fingers fell off, I grabbed his forearm just above the amputation site and squeezed, working my fingers and thumb into the scant flesh, trying different spots until the blood stopped pumping out, then held onto that spot with every ounce of strength.
He looked at me and blinked. His face was death white and his eyes seemed to have retreated into his skull. "Got'm, yeh. Won't hurt y'no mo, san."
Then he slumped to the floor in a heap.
Held onto his wrist and started shouting at the top of my lungs. When doors started opening down the hall, I turned back to the kid and said,
"You die on me you little bastard and so help me I'll wring your skinny little neck!"
Thought he was dead or in a terminal coma at best but swore his lips curled into a tiny smile. -15-
Had a lot of explaining to do. Two neatly sliced up bodies on the floor of one's compartment tends to raise questions among officialdom. Leaving out all mention of the super NDT, told them that I'd learned about the pair's urchin-snatching activities — said I had no idea why they did it — and that they'd tried to kill me with molly wire.
Because I had an investigator's licence and had the wound to prove prior assault, and because Redhead and Paleface still had blasters clutched in the hands at the ends of their severed arms, I managed to stay out of confinement. But the incident was still under investigation while the bodies were being pieced together and posted, and I was not to leave the Megalops until all questions were answered.
Didn't matter to me. Wasn't going anywhere for some time anyway.
My arms and legs were stronger now and I could walk around and take care of myself. Even worked the window garden a little. Doc still wasn't allowing me out of the brace, though.
B.B. had come through fine — I'd guaranteed his medical expenses to make sure of that. His right hand was grafting on nicely but it was still in an immobilizing brace. He had full use of his left hand, though. Together we made one marginally competent person.
"Fine pair we are," I said as we watched the vid.
B.B. popped a cheesoid into his mouth and tossed another to Iggy.
"Lazy."
"Yeah. Lazy. Got to get back to work someday."
Work. Reminded me of my only client — Mr. Earl Khambot.
A number of local urchingangs had checked all of their females in the age range of the Khambot girl and had found no one with footprints that even came close to the infant prints the father had given me. Didn't know if I could trust their comparison skills, but had no alternative. A retinal check would have been better but that was impossible.
Time to call my client and tell him I was still looking but had come up with zero. Strange…it had been weeks and he hadn't called once to check up on my progress. Doubly strange after his generous downpayment in gold.
Called his number but the man who answered was not my client and he'd never heard of Earl Khambot. Spent the rest of the day calling every Earl Khambot in the Megalops. There weren't too many, and none of them was my client.
"What's going on?" I said as the holochamber faded after the last call.
"S'wrong?" B.B. said.
"Hired by a paying customer who doesn't exist to find a child who can't be found. That make sense to you?"
"Maybe no child."
"Maybe right."
"S'mystery, san."
" 'Mister Dreyer.' And yeah, it's that all right."
"S'okay. Got friend for life, right?" he said, pointing to himself and tossing me a cheesoid.
Laughed and winged it back at him. Maybe that was enough. For now.