Earthbound (The Reach, Book 1) (5 page)

“Hey!  Alton, what the hell!” she said, surprised.

Alton returned to the window and stood staring out, his arms folded across his chest.  He made no attempt to answer her.

The woman slipped on her panties and got to her feet, still trying to grasp what was going on.  She moved around the bed, her blouse and pants dangling from her fingers.

“Did I do something wrong?”  She reached out a hand toward him.

Alton turned his head sharply and she stopped short.  In his periphery he could see the swell of her breasts and the pleasing shape of her hips as she let the clothes drop to her side.  Nothing she did was accidental.  She was using her body to gain his favour, to get her way.   But this morning it was not going to work.  Not on Alton.

“I said get out.  Don’t make me say it again.”

The woman stood helplessly for a moment, then abruptly began to struggle into her pants, her movements jerky and pronounced to accentuate her rising anger.

“This is bullshit,” she hissed.  “This is wrong.  Do you know how long I’ve waited for this?  Do you know how many of your cronies I had to fuck just to get a chance with you?”  She thrust her arms into her sleeves and tugged the blouse down irritably.  “And this is what I get?”

Alton said nothing.  He turned away again.

“You piece of shit,” she said, her voice cracking through the tears.  “Don’t come looking for me if you change your mind.  I’m done.  I’m fucking done.”

Alton waited as she slipped on her shoes and stumbled toward the door, sobbing.  She slammed it behind her as she left, and then her footsteps disappeared down the corridor outside.

Alton turned and looked across the dishevelled room, taking in the view of  his extravagant earthly possessions.  The shine of gold and silver and chrome, of soft and expensive fabric.  They meant nothing.  For a long time he’d tried to convince himself otherwise, but now he knew.  Just as he’d found himself unable to derive pleasure from the woman, these possessions were now similarly worthless.

He stepped back out onto the balcony again, not bothering to close the door this time.

Alton looked up at the Reach and thought of Elia again.  How old would she be, now?  Twelve?  Thirteen?  Where was she, and what would she be doing?  Had she made it to one of the off-world colonies?

He still remembered saying farewell.  She had been a tiny thing, a wisp of a girl.  And she had been afraid, oh so afraid.  Who wouldn’t be, heading off on a journey like that by herself?  Being led to a capsule, strapped inside
alone
, and then drawn upward along a thin metal shaft into the blackness of space.  An elevator to nowhere.

It must have been terrifying.

She hadn’t known
it at the time, but in reality it was a gift.  A privilege. 
She
and those others who had journeyed up with her on that railcar were escaping, being given a chance at a long and healthy life.  They were being given a future.

“You go,” he’d said to her, wiping a tear from her pale cheek.  “This is your turn.  I’ll be with you in a day, or maybe two.  That’s all.”

Her features were so delicate, her skin like porcelain.

“But I don’t want to go,” she’d wept.

“Elia, this is the only way.”  He’d clasped her shoulders.  “The only way.”

Although that elevator seemed to disappear into nothingness, there was a very real destination at its end.  A place where their Sponsor was waiting, someone to look after her until Alton could follow.  Once reunited, they would all travel to one of the colonies together.

His mouth twisted at the thought of it. 
The Sponsor.
  He’d paid good money to have Elia’s name called, and his own as well.  They’d taken his creds and made many promises in return, but since that day he’d never heard from them again.  They’d never sent a passkey with his name on it.  There was no way out without one.

And now Elia was gone to who knew where?  Taken away to some place that was a complete mystery to him.  Alton had been left here with all of his money and all of his possessions, these glittering trinkets that were useless.  They could never provide him the one thing he really wanted – someone to call his name, to put his name on a passkey and grant him passage off-world where he could be with Elia again.

He needed another Sponsor, and yet none were forthcoming.  Alton had a reputation, and that scared them off, he was sure of it.

Now all he had left were broken dreams.  His morning routine had kept him sane of late, but now even that was
coming apart
at the seams.  He could no longer sustain the fantasy now that he finally understood the truth.

He was never getting out of here.

The mug of coffee still sat on the ledge.  As he peered down at it he could see the reflection of the Reach on the surface of the black liquid.  With a cry of rage he lashed out at it, sending it spinning from the ledge, tepid coffee flinging outward into the air as it tumbled toward the street below.  It shattered on the asphalt with a loud pop
, and white shards exploded through the air like shrapnel from a hand grenade.

The fall would kill me
, he thought morbidly. 
Yes, it probably would.

His hands gripped the ledge and he leaned out over it.

Why not?  It’s the only sure way to leave this world.

His stomach turned as he thought of never seeing Elia again, never hearing her voice
.  He glanced over his shoulder and
spied the holophone sitting on the coffee table.

Perhaps he should try one last time to send a message to her.  What if there was a chance she might hear it, even if she could not respond to it?

It might be worth a shot.

He stalked over to the table and snatched up the holophone.  It had been turned off for the night to prevent interruptions, and now he flicked the switch to reactivate it.  He picked up a signal right away and navigated to the messenger, clicking on the contact he’d last used for the Sponsor.  A warning popped up, indicating that he would be charged extra creds for off-world communication, and he swiped it away.

He paused, wishing the right words would come to him.  He felt tears begin to well up in his eyes and the holophone display went blurry.

Suddenly the phone began to ring.  The noise was so loud and so sudden that Alton started and almost dropped the phone.  He wiped at his eyes and saw the familiar name of the person on the other end of the call.

He sighed, perturbed, and almost dismissed the call.  Reluctantly, he decided to take it.

“What is it?” he said.

“Well, good morning to you, too, Mr. Wilt.”

“I’m not in the mood for chit-chat,” Alton said.  “If you have something to say, then say it.”

“What’s going on over there?  I’ve been trying to call you all damn night.  Where were you?”

“I was busy.”

“Oh yeah, I can imagine.  Ladies, am I right?” 
Alton made no reply. 
“Well, I’m glad I caught you, anyhow.  You almost missed out on this one.”

Alton pinched the bridge of his nose.  “Yes?”

“I’ve got one for you, finally.  I did it, just like I said I would.”

“I’m hanging up.”

“No, wait, buddy!  I’ve got you a ticket!”

Alton stiffened.  “You
what?
”

“I’ve got a passkey lined up for you.  For real, this time.”

“Fallon, this had better not be some misguided attempt at humour.”

“No, man!  It’s not!  It’s legit.”
  There was a pause. 
“Uh, well, the passkey doesn’t have your name on it or anything.  That’s not within my power.”
  He chuckled. 
“But the ticket is real and it’s up for grabs.”

“Very well, you have my interest.”

“Good, good.  First up
, though, Mr. Wilt, I’m gonna need to make sure we’ve got an agreement
here.  The deal–”

“Yes, yes,” Alton snapped.  “You’ll be sent the creds.  The deal stands.  Now give me the details.”

“Well, all right, let me see here.”
  There was a scratching noise as Fallon fiddled with his holophone, and then a few moments later a face appeared on Alton’s screen, a dark-haired man with a narrow jaw and a hard edge to his gaze. 
“That’s him.”

“And you’re sure this passkey isn’t a fake?” Alton demanded.

“For sure.  Verified official.  But he’s on his way right now.  You’re gonna have to get moving.”

“What’s the name?”

“Knile.  Knile Oberend.”

“And the time of departure?”

“Sending it through now.  But listen, Mr. Wilt, this guy is wanted by the Enforcers.  He’s not going to be headed up the main elevators.  He’s going to have to find another way up through the Atrium, so you might have your work cut out to find him.”

Alton waited until the transfer was complete.  “I can handle that.  Thank you.  We’re done here.”

“Hey, man, what about my creds–”

Alton disconnected the call and then immediately dialled another number.  It picked up almost immediately.

“I need you,” was all Alton said, and then he hung up.

He began cleaning up the room, replacing blankets and pillows on the bed, picking up a glass that had fallen on the floor.  He slipped into his shoes.  As he passed the bathroom mirror he gave himself a quick inspection, flattening his hair on one side.

The door of the apartment opened and a man entered.  He was bald and muscular and had a tattoo of a cog on the side of his head just above his ear.

“Boss,” he said.  “What is it?”

“Tucker, we have a journey ahead of us,” Alton said, picking up a fresh shirt and sliding it over his shoulders.  “There’s a passkey to be acquired.  Make the transfer to Fallon, and then get what you need and meet me downstairs in five minutes.”

“I like the sound of this.”  Tucker grinned, and then he turned to leave.

“Tucker,” Alton said, and the bald man paused.  “Are you sure you can hack one of these things?”

Tucker nodded.  “You can count on me, boss.  I’ll get it done.”

Out on the balcony, Alton made one last sweep to make sure he hadn’t left anything behind.  He knew that, one way or another, he would not be coming back here.  This life that he’d created was ending the minute he stepped outside the door.

That brought a smile to his face.

He turned his face to the Reach and began his ritual one last time, his mind creating that familiar fantasy, and this time he believed in it with all his heart.

5

Knile moved down the street, the asphalt glistening and wet in the first light of day.  Like much of Link, the architecture here was utilitarian, squat grey buildings bunched together in close proximity as they crowded against the thoroughfare.  Folk were beginning to emerge from their homes and move about now, hurrying away on their errands.  They paid Knile no mind as they went.

At the side of the road an old man was setting up a cart, spacing out a motley assortment of sickly
looking vegetables for display.  As Knile approached he turned and lifted a specimen in each hand and stared at Knile expectantly.

Knile stopped, famished, but couldn’t picture himself eating what the man offered.  The vegetables might have been sweet potato, he guessed, but they were an unappetising shade of green, covered in black pockmarks.

“Fresh,” the man said feebly, hoisting the vegetables higher for Knile to see.  He was dressed in little more than rags, and his tangled grey beard was matted with muck.  He wasn’t wearing a respirator, and there were dark sooty lines under his nose.

Knile leaned forward.  “Did you even use filtrated water with these?” he said.

“Fresh,” the man said again, oblivious.

Knile just shook his head apologetically and kept moving.  The man watched him leave, his arms sagging, and then he turned and bent to his cart as he continued his preparations for the day.

Around the bend, Knile reached his destination.  It was a carbon copy of most of the other dwellings in the street, an ugly box with tiny black windows, but Knile knew that this was the place.  He remembered all the little things – the pattern of cracks in the driveway, the sag of the roof on one end, the old rusted chair on the porch.  Those hadn’t changed.

Knile trusted his memory.  It had never let him down before.

He moved quickly down the side of the house and out the back.  There was a small yard here with a cheap plastic outdoor setting situated amongst clumps of
desiccated
grass, as well as a jumble of solar receptors fixed to stakes in the dirt.  Knile crept to the back wall where a narrow window led to the basement.  He peered inside, but it was too dark to see what lay within.