How angry is he? she asked carefully.
Not that bad. Im gonna be watching Erichs back for a while. Hes got some things need doing, and the boss doesnt want anything going pear-shaped. So thats all right.
And you? How are you?
Eh. Im good, Timmy said. I think Im coming down with something. Flu, maybe.
She walked out from the kitchen, her food abandoned, and put the back of her hand to his forehead. His skin felt cool.
No fever, she said.
Probably nothing, he said, pulling his shirt up over his head. I got the shakes a little, and I got dizzy a couple times on the way back. It aint serious.
What happened to the man Burton sent you to?
I shot him.
Did you kill him? Lydia asked as she walked back to her bedroom. The ruddy light of sunset filtered through yellow silk. An old armoire stood against one wall, its silver finish stained and corroded by years. The bed was the same cheap foam queen-sized shed had when she was working, the sheets old and thin, softer than skin with wear.
Used a shotgun about a meter from his chest, Timmy said, following her. Could have stuck your fist through the hole. So, yeah, pretty much.
Have you ever killed a man before? she asked, lifting her dress up over her thighs, her hips, her head.
Timmy undid his belt, frowning. Dont know. Beat some guys pretty bad. Maybe some of em didnt get back up, but no one I know about. You know, not for sure.
Lydia unhooked her bra, letting it slide to the cheap carpet. Timmy took his pants down, kicking them off with his shoes. He didnt wear underwear, and his erect penis bobbed in the air like it belonged to someone else. There was no desire in his expression, and only a mild distress.
Timmy, she said, lying back on the bed and lifting her hips. You arent getting ill. Youre traumatized.
Ythink? He seemed genuinely surprised by the thought. And then amused by it. Yeah, maybe. Huh.
He pulled her underwear down to her knees, her ankles. My poor Timmy, she murmured.
Ah shit, he said, lowering his body onto hers. Im all right. At least Im not getting sick.
Sex held few mysteries for Lydia. She had fucked and been fucked by more men than she could count, and shed learned things from each of them. Ugly things sometimes. Sometimes beautiful. She understood on a deep, animal level that sex was like music or language. It could express anything. Love, yes. Or anger, or bitterness, or despair. It could be a way to grieve or a way to take revenge. It could be a weapon or a nightmare or a solace. Sex was meaningless, and so it could mean anything.
What she and Timmy did to and for and with each others bodies wasnt a thing they discussed. She felt no shame about it. That other people would see only the perversion of a woman and the boy shed helped raise pleasuring one another meant that other people would never understand what it mean to be them, to survive the world they survived. They were not lovers, and never would be. They were not surrogate mother and incestuous son. She was Lydia, and he was Timmy. In the bent and broken world, what they did fit. It was more than most people had.
After, Timmy lay beside her, his breath still coming in small, reflexive gulps. Her body felt pleasantly tender and bruised. The yellow over the window was fading into twilight, and the rumble of air traffic was like constant thunder in the distance, or a city being shelled two valleys over. A transport ship for one of the orbital stations, maybe. Or a wing of atmospheric fighter planes on exercises. So long as she didnt look, she could pretend it was anything. Her mind wandered, delivering up what had been nagging at her since Timmy had told her all that had happened.
Burton had sent Timmy to collect a debt, Timmy had killed the man instead, and Burton hadnt cut him loose. Two points defined a line, but three defined the playing field. Burton didnt always have need of boys like Timmy, but sometimes he did. Right now, he did.
Lydia sighed.
The churn was coming. It was the name Liev had given it, back before. All of nature had its rhythms, its booms and busts. She and Timmy and Liev and Burton were mammals, they were part of nature, and subject to its rules and whims. She had lived through perhaps three, perhaps four such catastrophes before. Enough that she knew the signs. Like a squirrel gathering food before a hard winter, Burton collected violent men before the churn. When it came, there would be blood and death and prison sentences and maybe even a curfew for a time. Men like Timmy would die by the dozen, sacrificed for things they didnt know or understand. Maybe even some of Burtons lieutenants would fall the way Tanner Ford had back when shed been Lievs lover. Or Stacey Li before him. Or Cutbreath. The history of her corrupted world echoed with the names of the dead; the expendable and the expended. If Burton had kept Timmy on, it was because he thought it was coming. And if Burton thought it was coming, it probably was.
Timmys breath was low and deep and regular. He sounded like a man asleep, except his eyes were open and fixed on the ceiling. Her own skin was cool now, the sweat dried or nearly so. A fly swooped through the air above them, a gray dot tracing a jagged path, turning and dodging to avoid dangers that werent there. She lifted her first two fingers, cocked back her thumb, and made a thin cartoon shooting sound with her teeth and tongue. The insect flew on, undisturbed by her small and violent fantasy. She turned her head to look at Timmy. His expression was blank and empty. He was still, and even in the warmth that followed orgasm, there was a tension in his body. He wasnt a beautiful boy. Hed never be a beautiful man.
Someday, she thought, I will lose him. He will go off on some errand and he will never come back. I wont even know what happened to him. She probed at the thought like a tongue-tip against the sore gum where a tooth has been knocked out. It hurt and hurt badly, but it hadnt happened yet, and so she could bear it. Best to prepare herself now. Meditate upon the coming loss so that when it came, she was ready.
Timmys eyes clicked over toward her without his head shifting at all, without any expression coming to his face. Lydia smiled a slow, languorous smile.
What are you thinking? she asked.
He didnt answer.
The catastrophe began four days later. Quietly, and with near-military precision, the city opened a contract with Star Helix security. Soldiers from across the globe arrived in small groups and sat through debriefings. The plan to end the criminal networks operating in Baltimore would be announced after the fact, or at least after the first wave. The thought, widely lauded by the self-congratulatory minds in administration, was to take the criminal element by surprise. In catching them flat-footed, the security teams could cripple their networks, break their power, and restore peace and the rule of law. The several unexamined assumptions in the argument remained unexamined, and the body armor and riot control weapons were distributed in perfect confidence that the enforcers would arrive unanticipated.
In fact, what Burton and Lydia knew from experience, many, many others felt by instinct. There was a discomfort in the streets and alleys, on the rooftops, and behind the locked doors. The city knew that something was near. The only surprise would be in the details.
Erich felt it like an itch he couldnt scratch. He sat on the rotting concrete curb, drumming the fingers of his good hand against his kneecap. The street around him was the usual mix of foot traffic, bicycles, and wide blue buses. The air stank. The sewage lines this near the water were prone to failures. A few doors to the east, a group of children were playing some kind of complex game with linked headsets, their arms and legs falling into and out of phase with each other. Timmy stood on the sidewalk, squinting up into the sky. Behind them was a squatters camp in an old ferrocrete apartment block. In a locked room at its center, Erichs custom deck was set up and primed, connected to the network and prepared to create a new identity from birth records to DNA matching to backdated newsfeed activity for the client, as soon as she arrived. Assuming she arrived. She was fifteen minutes late and, though they had no way to to know it, already in custody.