“How much will I get from this?”
“After you help pay for the cost of the cellular synthesis—”
“What?”
“Remember, this is your fault.”
The Sticker wanted to find something heavy and hurl it at the man, but pieces of paper were the only things he saw on the desk.
“What will my pay be then?”
“You’ll make a little more than you did at the stock yards. If there’s any new technology that comes about that makes this more affordable, of course, your salary will be adjusted less that cost.”
“Cocksucker,” Tasha muttered.
“What?” Trevor snapped.
Tasha folded her arms tighter and glared at him.
“I guess you have me where you want me,” said the Sticker.
Trevor eyed him closely, uncertain. “So we have a deal? I’ll get a contract.”
“Can I have the afternoon to think about this?”
“There’s nothing to consider, but sure, you can have a couple hours,” said Trevor. “The Princess hasn’t responded to us in a few days. I think she’s trying to scare us a bit with her silence, but, I’ll send a correspondence you’ve been handed the terms.”
The Sticker looked at Tasha. “Can you help me into the hall?”
“Of course I can.” She put her arm around his mid-section.
As they left, the Sticker glanced back to Annette. He was both startled and overjoyed to see her following them outside. For an instant he thought she may have come to be with him — it’d been so long, but for her, only a few days had passed since they’d last seen each other.
Tasha helped him over to a chair and Annette sat in the other seat next to him. He wanted her to look more worried than she did, but the woman he’d married seemed to have turned a corner and he’d been left on some side street, alone, with no sense of direction to find her again.
Tasha left, probably sensing he wanted to be alone with Annette. Despite what he faced, he was glad to know that somebody here at Limbus was on his side.
“I think you’re being very brave by taking this deal,” said Annette.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Not sure I have much of a choice… unless you want to take a chance and get me out of here?”
“What would that help?”
“Come on. Trevor isn’t what you thought.”
“Yeah, he’s more. Supervisor in a company like this! Not to mention his businesses on the outside.”
The Sticker looked down at his hand. It was shaking.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“What’s wrong?” he snapped. “Do you really have to ask that? Are you stupid or something?”
“Don’t call me names.”
“Are you kidding me? You don’t give a shit about me.”
“You know why you’d say that? Because you’re selfish.”
“I’m selfish.”
“Yes. You got yourself in trouble, screwed up in so many different ways imaginable, and now you want sympathy? Shit! You’re going to get your arm and leg back.”
“And then they’ll be taken again and again and again and a-fucking-gain! Did you miss that part, Annette?”
“Stop saying I’m stupid. I said you were brave, remember?”
“Oh lord…”
She narrowed her eyes. “Just stop feeling so damned sorry for yourself. It’s sad.”
“Get out.” He shook his head. “I… don’t have anything else to say.”
Annette left him there without another word. It was surprising she even had decided to talk with him, but then, she wasn’t free of guilt completely.
He watched people walk by and wondered about their various stories, what had brought them to this company. Tasha never came back and he continued to sit there.
Trevor never got an official “yes,” or a signed contract from him, but soon enough he spotted some orderlies pushing a gurney down the hall.
Pushing it, toward him.
The Sticker tested his new limbs, squeezing his fist and his toes together. Though he still had a sore throat from screaming and an intense migraine from the synthesis chamber, he found the simple exercise distracting in the best way possible. He didn’t want to think about losing all four of his limbs tonight, waking up tomorrow to go into that chamber again. It didn’t seem like his heart would be able to take something like that — but then again, perhaps they’d let him grow a new heart.
Absently he rubbed his tongue along his crooked teeth again, hoping for some residual sugar of this morning’s breakfast — something was different though. His front teeth were straighter, in-line. He leaned closer to his hospital bed railing and opened his mouth. The reflection did not lie. His teeth were straight and bright white, completely unstained. It had to have happened while he was under. But why?
“Hi there, Slaughter Man,” said a voice in the doorway.
“Do I know you?”
An older black man with snow white hair walked into the room. The Sticker studied his face for a moment, looked past the age lines and locked eyes. “Razz? Is that you? Holy shit, you’re so old.”
“Ha! Thanks.” Razz pulled out a stool and sat before the bed, a big grin painted on his face.
“But they told me that nobody else came through the transport.”
“Well, can’t blame them for being wrong about that… I returned fifty years before you.” Razz chuckled.
The Sticker opened his mouth but another voice said, “Time doesn’t matter.”
Tasha entered the room. “You could have told me, Dad.”
“It had to happen the same way I knew it would. I’m not playing with what would occur if you’d altered the course of things. You knew that I started working contracts for this company as a young man. I told you that.”
“You never told me it was on the Princess’ slaughter ship. That might have been good information for the Slaughter Man here to take with him.”
“I disagree.”
“You…” said the Sticker. “You’re Razz Willing then? How did I not know that?”
“Actually it’s Arnold Willing. Harper and Timothy made up the name because I always razzed them.”
The Sticker’s gut twisted. “Do you know about what happened to Tim?”
“Yeah,” said Razz sadly. “I’ve known for some time now. I think the tension of that last week really took him to a place he couldn’t return from.”
“I wish I could have…”
“Leave it alone for now. You’ve been through enough. I’m just glad to finally see you again. So yes, nobody except you three ever called me Razz. But what the hell, I never actually asked your real name either, Slaughter Man.”
“So you became some Limbus big shot?”
“ Well, maybe, but I still feel like I’m working on a slaughter ship some days,” Razz explained with a wink.
“Your contingency plan worked, by the way. Whatever you did with the enzymes bought me enough time to get out of there.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” said Razz. “Why don’t you tell him, Milstead?”
The Sticker looked around Razz. In the doorway, Trevor stood with a file folder under his arm. He looked tired and frazzled. The Sticker couldn’t help it but a pre-victory smile crept over his face. He sensed good news — the antithesis of Trevor’s expression.
“Interesting report in about the Princess…” Trevor glanced around, uncomfortable with all the eyes on him. “She suffered massive steel-shock and slipped into a coma, shortly after sending her missive about you.”
Razz turned to the Sticker. “All that scrap metal I found in the compactor — I tossed it in her enzymes. They broke down right away. If she ever recovers, she’ll not be the monstrous eater of the past. Which is well for me. I’m tired of her getting everything she wants while other clients pay the price… not to mention, I haven’t had a good game of backgammon in a long time.”