Genesis (8 page)

He leaned towards her and said quietly, “You really have no idea, do you?”

She wanted to slap him. “Why don’t you explain it then?”

He shook his head, a weary, condescending look on his face.

“Did you happen to check something on the Grid while you were at your friend’s fancy estate? I don’t know, say look up the name of your aunt on Orbitcorp staff listings?”

“What?” Rosie felt her skin prickling hot then cold.

“Yep. It would have been easy to trace you once they figured out she had a brother and he had a daughter. I mean that’s not how I found you because I checked some other sources after I saw your little face,” he brushed a thumb along her cheek, “but that is definitely how they found you.”

She slapped his hand away. “Who are they, the Senate?”

“Hardly.” His smile became bleak.

“Then who?”

“The boss won’t tell me, so how should I know?”

“Really? Are you sure about that, because you know a lot for a Feral,” she said.

“Yeah?” He leaned even closer, his face level with hers. “Well, you know nothing for a Banker.” He walked away to the back of the boat.

Rosie glared after him.

“Bridge ahead.” The old man spoke and reduced the speed of the boat. Rosie went to the small, grimy window at the back of the cabin. Ahead of them the river narrowed and the huge curved span of Central Bridge rose up like a great black spine.

The bridge allowed traffic between the north and south sides of the river and no one crossed it unless they had gone through the Senate-controlled checkpoints on each side.

As they approached the bridge, bright lights beamed down on them from above. A blue laser roamed over the boat, examining the licence numbers painted on the side.

“Get down.” Pip was suddenly beside her and pushed her to the floor behind the upturned drum.

“But it’s not curfew yet,” Rosie said.

“Doesn’t matter. This boat’s only licensed for the fishing crew. If we want to get across, we’ve got to hide.”

“But–”

“Sh!” He crouched beside her. The boat was moving slowly under the bridge. Searchlights flooded the cabin. They huddled together, crunched up in the narrow space between the drums and the back wall. Pip’s thighs pressed against hers and she felt the heat of his body through her shirt. The light surveyed the wall near his head and he ducked down so their faces were just centimetres apart. He held her gaze as the light flashed around the cabin.

“Don’t move,” he whispered. Uncomfortable, she looked away and stayed as still as she could.

Outside the cabin the old man was waving up at unseen people on the walkway of the bridge. He had a piece of plaspaper in his hand over which the blue laser scanned. After a moment a horn sounded and a male voice from high above intoned, “Fishing vessel D542, you are clear.”

The boat passed beneath the bridge and the searchlights turned off. The old man gunned the engines higher, the boat picked up speed and they were once again moving up the swollen, dark river.

“That was close,” Pip said.

He rose and put a hand down to her which she ignored.

She got up, brushing spider web off her thighs, not looking at him. Her anger at him had faded. Now she just felt nervous. He was still too close.

“We’re nearly there now,” he said.

“Really? So …” Rosie glanced up but Pip was turning away.

“So be ready to jump out.” He went outside the cabin to sit with the old man at the other end of the boat.

Rosie watched him a moment then followed him out but didn’t join them, leaning instead against the side of the boat near the cabin. On the south bank, the Central side, the bright lights of the city’s towers and hoverways lit the sky, dimming the stars. Further up, beyond Central proper, was Juli’s sector – Central East – where she’d been only just this morning.

Rosie stared in its direction and hoped Juli was all right.

The boat puttered down the river, drifting closer to the north bank. Scattered clusters of lights flickered through the thick growth. Rosie had never been to the North Coast but she knew it was mostly Senate-run research stations and farms. There were a few residential areas but she’d heard they were for the workers; the people who lived there even had their own school. Beyond the farms was the train called the Bullet that ran all the way up the coast towards the Capricorn Line and the border of Gondwana Nation – the indige lands outside Senate control. Her dad had even talked about getting out of Newperth to live up there – before the MalX. He’d said up there they could grow their own vegetables outside of a genfarm, actually in the ground. But he’d stopped talking about it when the MalX came.

She watched the bank slide past, tears stinging her eyes.

“We get off just up ahead.” Pip was suddenly at her side again. She started and blinked the tears back quickly before they fell, before he saw.

“Where?” she said. “I don’t see a jetty.” She couldn’t see much but dark scrub and there was an odd sulfurous smell in the warm air.

He leaned in closer and pointed. “Can you see it?”

She stared ahead, her eyes straining, scanning the bank, and then she saw it: a dark blob, jutting out into the water. The old man guided the boat towards it.

“Get your bag.” Pip nudged her and Rosie obeyed, glad to have an excuse to put some distance between them. He picked up a long-handled gaff and jumped up onto the narrow ledge between the side of the boat and the cabin.

Rosie stood out of the way and watched the bank come closer. The old man grunted and the engine puttered as the boat turned out of the main current and tacked across the dark water. When they were a few metres away, Pip deftly hooked the gaff onto a pylon, pulling the boat up alongside the jetty. He jumped onto it and caught the rope thrown by the old man, and the boat bumped up against the jetty with a wet thud.

“Jump out,” he called to Rosie, his voice strained from the effort of holding the boat steady.

Rosie jumped. Pip threw the rope back and pushed the boat away and soon fishing vessel D542 was backing up, turning and gliding away from them. The old man didn’t look back once.

“Come on,” Pip said. “We can’t hang around.”

Beyond the jetty a steep, rough path climbed the bank and then disappeared into deep shadow.

Rosie followed Pip as he began to climb up the slope. The ground was muddy and her hands and knees were quickly covered in muck. Pip gained the higher ground, grabbed her hand and yanked her to the top without asking.

“Thanks,” she said.

He barely seemed to hear as he peered into the darkness of the trees. Tall trunks surrounded them, interspersed with thick grasses and scrub, reminding Rosie of the area around the Old City. Moonlight filtered down through the canopy and, a way off, through the trees to her left, she could see lights. Somewhere an insect sang but otherwise it was still.

“This way and keep quiet.” Pip started walking away from the river along a barely discernible track.

The path twisted and turned through the trees, leading them further inland away from the river and then back towards it. Finally, they emerged into a clearing. An abandoned building sat in the middle. Long, low and square, it was made of dark brick and was half buried in the earth. Grass grew raggedly around its walls, and gaping holes, where windows should have been, stared back like slitted, hostile eyes, the sills hidden underground. The roof was little more than a domed lattice of steel covered intermittently with sheets of tin, and near the building, not far from where they stood, was a burnt-out hovercar.

“This way.” Pip seemed nervous now and kept clenching and unclenching his fists and looking around. The boss had to be waiting for them here.

A shiver of anticipation and fear ran up Rosie’s spine. What would he be like? Would he be old and fat with narrow eyes that never settled, or would he be a thug, like the gang members?

He was neither.

Pip led her to the opposite side of the building and they dropped through a low broken window into a dark and dank-smelling room. Seated at a portable table, staring at a computer in a case, sat a man with short brown hair. Beside the computer was a lamp, half covered by a cloth, providing a small pool of yellow light.

“You’re late,” he said.

The man was younger than Rosie had imagined. She guessed he was in his mid thirties and he seemed very clean. His skin was pale, his jaw clean-shaven. He had brown eyes and a straight nose and looked just like anyone from Central, except there was an intensity about him that was out of place in his blandly handsome face.

She went towards him warily, Pip beside her.

“You must be Rosie,” he said. “Did anyone follow you?” His gaze went to Pip, who shook his head.

“No, boss, I was careful.”

“Let’s hope so.” Rising from his chair, the man walked towards her and held out a hand as though intending to shake hers. “Give it to me,” he said.

Rosie hesitated, holding tight to the straps of her pack. Now she was here, she was filled with misgiving.

“Please, Rosie.”

Pip took hold of one of her pack’s straps.

“I can get it.” She twisted away from him with a glare.

“Just trying to help,” Pip said, his smile smug.

Rosie slipped the pack from her back and pulled the box out. “Here.” She thrust it at the man who took it as though she’d offered it willingly.

“Thank you. Where did you find it?”

“In the Old City.”

“I’m aware of that. Where in the Old City?”

His face gave nothing away as he regarded the symbol on the lid.

“A tunnel, a long way in.” She wanted to ask him why it was important and, mostly, what had happened to her dad, but his demeanour was unnerving.

He placed the box carefully on the table. Rosie flicked a glance at Pip but he had gone to stand by the window. He appeared tense.

“Tell me exactly where you found it,” the man said quietly.

“I don’t know exactly.”

“And you figured out how to open it?” He hardly blinked as he watched her.

“It was just luck, really,” she said. He said nothing so she ventured a question. “Do you know how to open it?”

He pressed the silver buttons and the lid sprang open. The look on his face as he saw what was inside was impossible to read. Did he know what was supposed to be in there?

The man picked up the grey com. “Did you look at this?”

“We couldn’t figure out the entry code.”

He studied her closely. “We?” he said. “Your friend’s name is Shen, isn’t it?”

A trickle of dread shivered up Rosie’s spine. “Yes. I’d like to try to contact her if you have a com I could use.”

“It’s too late. I’m sorry.” He turned his computer towards her. “I recorded this earlier. I hoped we could have avoided this. If Pip had brought you here sooner, I could have contacted them – told them she didn’t have it.”

What was he saying? Her breath felt short as she gazed down at the blue screen.

Family killed in freak accident
. She read the news wave in disbelief:
The entire Shen family was found dead earlier this evening at their home in Central East, apparent victims of a faulty generator switch. The explosion destroyed the main part of the home
… Unable to read any more, she turned away feeling sick.

“You were lucky you hid when those men came,” he said.

Rosie couldn’t speak. This wasn’t true. It wasn’t happening.
If Pip had brought you here sooner …
His words repeated in her head and a terrible feeling like bitter acid rose in her gut. If she hadn’t run away from Pip, would Juli still be alive? She stared back at the screen. The news wave was paused on what had been Juli’s house. The remains of the house were smouldering, the bush around it a blackened circle. She wanted to sit down. She was dimly aware of Pip standing beside her, the man frowning as he watched her.

“Why?” she said.

“It’s what they do,” he said.

She shook her head, folding her arms around herself. She wanted to cry. She should be crying, shouldn’t she? But she only felt a dull tightness behind her eyes.

“When you turned on the beacon, Rosie, it was like starting a chain reaction. And the people who did this will start at the beginning and follow it to the end. They don’t miss things.”

“What about my dad?” she whispered. “Is it true they found him because I …” She couldn’t finish.

“Yes.” His tone was quiet, serious, but there was no condemnation, he merely told her the facts. “I’m sorry. I saw too late you’d looked up your aunt’s name. It would have been easy for them after that.”

“Is he okay, do you think?”

“I don’t know. But if it’s any consolation, I’d say he’s still alive. They probably would have just left his body in your apartment if they’d killed him.”

His body. Rosie felt like throwing up. She rubbed a hand across her eyes. Juli was dead, her father gone, all because of something she’d found.

She fingered the pendant in her pocket. Perhaps she shouldn’t keep it. She pulled out the small, green disc.

“This was in the box too.” She held it out to him. A faint smile curved his lips, and a look of recognition lit his face as he took it from her.

“What is it?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. A keepsake.” He regarded her thoughtfully. “Here.” He reached into his case and pulled out a silver chain with a key hanging on it. He took the key off and threaded the chain through the pendant then held it out to her. “You have it.”

Rosie didn’t know what to say. It was obvious the pendant meant something to him. “I don’t want it.” It was part of the trouble, pretty as it was. It was one of the reasons her dad was gone and Juli was dead.

He took a step towards her and forced it into her hand. “You should wear it, Rosie. It’s important sometimes to have something to remind us of the consequences of things we’ve done.”

Was he blaming her for Juli’s death and her dad’s kidnapping? “I didn’t know what would happen,” she said. “It’s not like I wanted anyone hurt.”

His calm expression didn’t waver. “I know, but as you’ve seen, the effects are devastating and it’s not going to end here.”