“I’m not chipped.” Angry bravado tone.
“You don’t need to be chipped. That just slows the search down a few hours. You went straight from the hack-doc to here, walked through the Belt because you couldn’t take the rail, you buy juice at this stand every day, and you bought those pants two blocks up the street, from the lady who sells clothes out of her living room. Want me to tell you what you had for dinner last night, too?”
“Oh, Goddess,” he breathed.
“Spare me.” Aman sighed. “Why do they want you? You blow something up? Plant a virus?”
“Not us. Not the Gaiists.” He jerked free of Aman’s grip with surprising strength, fists clenched. “That’s all a lie. I don’t know why they want me. Yeah, they’re claiming bioterrorism, but I didn’t do it. There wasn’t any virus released where they said it happened. How can they do that? Just make something up?” His voice had gone shrill. “They have to have proof and they don’t have any proof. Because it didn’t happen.”
He sounded so much like Avi that Aman had to look away. “They just made it all up, huh?” He made his voice harsh, unbelieving.
“I…guess.” The kid looked down, his lip trembling. “Yeah, it sounds crazy, huh. I just don’t get why? Why me? I don’t even do protests. I just…try to save what’s left to save.”
“Tell me about your girlfriend.”
“Who?” He blinked at Aman, his eyes wet with tears.
“The one who died.”
“Oh. Reyna.” He looked down, his expression instantly sad. “She really wanted to kick ’em. The drugs. I tried to help her. She just… she just had so much fear inside. I guess…the drugs were the only thing that really helped the fear. I…I really tried.”
“So she killed herself?”
“Oh, no.” Daren looked up at him, shocked. “She didn’t want to die. She just didn’t want to be afraid. She did the usual hit that morning. I guess…the guy she bought from, he called himself Skinjack, I guess he didn’t cut the stuff right. She OD’ed. I…went looking for him.” Daren flushed. “I told myself I was going to beat him up. I guess…maybe I wanted to kill him. Because she was getting better. She would have made it.” He drew a shaky breath. “He just disappeared. The son of a bitch. I kept looking for him but…he was just gone. Maybe he OD’ed, too,” he added bitterly. “I sure hope so.”
All of a sudden, it clicked into place. The whole picture.
Why.
They had reached an empty lot. Someone was growing grapes in it and as they reached the end of the rows, sudden movement in the shadows caught Aman’s eye. Too late. He was so busy sorting it all out, he’d stopped paying attention. The figure stepped out of the leaf shadows, a small, ugly gun in his hand.
“I was right.” Jimi’s eyes glittered. “Didn’t think I was smart enough to track you, huh? I’m stupid, I know, but not that stupid.”
“Actually, I thought you’d be too hung over.” Aman spread his hands carefully. “I think we’re on the same side here, and I think we need to get out of here now.”
“Shut up,” Jimi said evenly, stepping closer, icy with threat. “Just shut up.”
“Jimi?” Daren pushed forward, confused. “Goddess, I haven’t seen you….what are you doing?”
“He found you,” Jimi said between his teeth. “For the feds. You’re not hiding very well, Daren, you idiot. Everything you buy has a damn tag on it. He looked up your buying habits and picked you out of the crowd, just like that. He laughed about how easy it was. You were too easy for him to even give the job to a newbie like me.” Jimi’s eyes burned into the kid’s. “You got to…”
Aman shifted his weight infinitesimally, made a tiny, quick move with his left hand, just enough to catch Jimi’s eye. Jimi swung right, eyes tracking, gun muzzle following his eyes. Aman grabbed Jimi’s gun hand with his right hand, twisted, heard a snap. With a cry Jimi let go of the gun and Aman snatched it from the air, just as Daren tackled him, grabbing for the gun. The hissing snap of a gas-powered gunshot ripped the air. Again. Aman tensed, everything happening in slow motion now. No pain. Why no pain? Hot wetness spattered his face and Jimi sprawled backward into the grape leaves, arms and legs jerking. Aman rolled, shrugging Daren off as if he weighed nothing, seeing the suit now, three meters away, aiming at Daren.
Aman fired. It was a wild shot, crazy shot, the kind you did in sim-training sessions and knew you’d never pull off for real.
The suit went down.
Aman tried to scramble to his feet, but things weren’t working right. After a while, Daren hauled him the rest of the way up. White ringed his eyes and he looked ready to pass out from shock.
“He’s dead. Jimi. And the other guy.” He clung to Aman, as if Aman was supporting him and not the other way around. “Goddess, you’re bleeding.”
“Enough with Goddess already.” Aman watched red drops fall from his fingertips. His left arm was numb, but that wouldn’t last.
“Why? What in the…what the hell is going on here?” His fingers dug into Aman’s arm.
“Thank you.” Hell was about right. “We need to get out of here. Do you know the neighborhood?”
“Yes. Sort of. This way.” Daren started through the grapes, his arm around Aman. “I’m supposed to meet…a ride. This afternoon. A ride to…” He gave Aman a sideways, worried look. “Another place.”
“You’re gonna have to learn some things…” Aman had to catch his breath. “Or you’re gonna bring the suits right after you.” After that he stopped talking. The numbness was wearing off. Once, years and years ago, he had worked as private security, licensed for lethal force, paying his way though school. A burglar shot him one night.
It hurt worse than he remembered, like white-hot spears digging into his shoulder and side with every step. He disconnected himself from his body after a while, let it deal with the pain. He wondered about Jimi’s cat. Who would take care of it? Raul would be pissed, he thought dreamily. Not about Jimi. Raul had no trouble finding Jimis in the world. But Aman was a lot better than Raul. Better even than An Xuyen, although Xuyen didn’t think so. Raul would be pissed.
He blinked back to the world of hot afternoon and found himself sitting in dim light, his back against something solid.
“Man you were out on your feet.” The kid squatted beside him, streaked with sweat, drying blood, and gray dust, his face gaunt with exhaustion and fear. Daren, not Jimi. Jimi was dead.
“I don’t have any first aid stuff, but it doesn’t look like you’re bleeding too much anymore. Water?” He handed Aman a plastic bottle. “It’s okay. It’s from a clean spring.”
Aman didn’t really care, would have drunk from a puddle. The ruins of an old house surrounded them. The front had fallen — or been torn — completely off, but a thick curtain of kudzu vine shrouded the space. Old campfire scars blackened the rotting wooden floor. The Belt, he figured. Edge of it anyway.
“What happened?” Daren’s voice trembled. “Why did he shoot Jimi? Who was he? Who are you?”
The water helped. “What sent you to get hacked?” Aman asked.
“Someone searched my apartment.” The kid looked away. “I found…a bug in my car. I’m…good at finding those. I…told some of my…friends…and they said go invisible. It didn’t matter if I’d done anything or not. They were right.” His voice trembled. “I’d never do what they said I did.”