The Burn Zone (39 page)

Read The Burn Zone Online

Authors: James K. Decker

Tags: #Science Fiction, #General, #Fiction, #made by MadMaxAU

 

It was a complete mess, but I

d grown up sneaking
through those streets looking for marks, and I knew where all the side streets and alleys were. The GPS marker put Fang

s
Café
two blocks up on the right, underneath rippling plastic tarps that had been stretched across the street from building to building two stories up.

 


This way.

 

There were more haan wandering Render

s Strip than I expected to see, standing a head or so above most people as they moved carefully through the flow of pedestrians, motor scooters, and bicycles. I saw a woman bump into one, and watched her apologize up and down as the haan assured her he was okay. He was fine, I realized now. There was no chance at all he

d been hurt, but his reaction seemed so genuine he still could almost convince me. The surrogate cluster even picked up a slight internal wince, a small pain he felt but kept from the woman so as not to worry her. If it was an act, it went layers deep. I watched him make an elegant bow, and the woman smiled as she watched him walk away.

 

Fang

s
Café
was tucked in a dense row of shops, each front about two doors wide. His sat between one that traded ration tickets for booze, and one with a double pink tag. Through the tall front window of the double pink, a woman stood naked, leaning against a pole and smoking a cigar butt. Her body was bonier than mine even, with all of her ribs sticking out and a little patch of
bush at the base of her jutting pubic bone. She was completely covered in sweat from being in the glass case, and looked bored, stoned, or about to keel over.
Maybe all three.
She just stood there while a small group watched from a few feet away. I wondered how much she got paid to stand there naked.

 

I hopped the single step and pushed open the narrow door under Fang

s sign. It had a white and an orange tab. According to the scrawl underneath, he sat fifteen at five-minute intervals and took all ration sheet colors except gold. I could see he was over capacity when I went in, with each of five tiny round tables surrounded and more standing. Smoke had collected up under the high ceiling where a three-bladed fan pushed hot air around. A short length of counter stood nestled in one corner, and behind it sat a scrawny older guy with a big gap between his front teeth who stared at something on the screen of his phone. There was a glass jar packed tightly with thin brown cigarettes next to him, and a shelf with empty bottles behind him showing the five different kinds of booze he carried. As I made my way over, a red light flashed from under the counter and he raised his eyebrows a little but didn

t look over.

 


No weapons in here,

he said.

 


Mr. Fang?

I asked.

 


I said no weapons in here.
You deaf?

 


Are you Mr. Fang?

 

He looked up from his phone then and squinted at me through the smoke.

 


What do you want?

he asked.

 


I want to talk to you.

 


I

m at capacity,

he said.

Beat it. Take your friends with you.

 

I took three of the cigarettes out of the jar and put them down on the counter along with my cash card. Fang hesitated,
then
grabbed a paper fan off the counter next to him. He fanned himself with it a little as he picked up the card.

 


Now I

m a customer,

I said.

The three cigs, plus five minutes.

 

He ran my card through a plastic scanner that was plugged into his phone. He tapped at the screen for a minute and then pushed the card and the smokes back toward me.

 


You a cop?

he asked.

 


Do I look like a cop?

 


You look like shit.

 

I felt my face flush.

 


Watch it,

Vamp warned, but Fang just smiled.

 


What happened? His
wife come
home early?

 


Ha, ha.
I need to ask you about a man named Dragan Shao.

 

As soon as he heard the name, his expression changed. At first I thought he was going to clam up, or throw me out, but he didn

t do either.

 


Oh,

he said, relieved.

That was you on the phone. I thought it was security or something.

 


Why would security be calling you about Dragan?

 


You know why.

He held up a hand to cut off my response.

We go way back. I know
it

s
bullshit, but when they get that scent they stick their noses in deep. I don

t want any trouble.

 


No trouble,

I told him.

I just want to know where he is, that

s all.

 


Why? What

s it
to
...

He trailed off, then smiled and pointed his finger at me.

Wait a minute. You

re Sam.

 


Yeah,

I said.

Yeah, that

s me. How do you know me?

 


Like I said, Dragan

s an old friend. I

ve seen your picture.

 


Dragan showed you my picture?

 


He showed everybody your picture. The day he adopted you he bought smokes from that jar and handed them out,

he laughed.

B
ōlí
.

 


He never told me.

 


War

s ugly. Makes people do ugly things. He likes to keep the bad old days from you, I think.

 


He thinks I can

t take it?

 

He laughed.

You ask me, the lady boy

s worried what you might think. He likes being a father.

 

In the back of my mind I

d wondered why he never took me along to Fang

s. In my worst moments I thought
he was embarrassed about me. I hadn

t expected this. I had plenty of things I didn

t want to admit to anyone, not to Dragan, or even Vamp. It never occurred to me Dragan might carry around the same stuff.

 


Was he in here the other day?

 

Fang

s smile faded, and he nodded. He looked down at the counter.

Yeah.
He was here.

 


With two kids?

 


Yeah.
One girl, one boy.
He needed to cash out a full ration sheet, and he wanted it kept quiet. He also needed someone to deliver them. Someone he could trust.

 


Where?
Where did he take them?

 


He said he was going back for you next.

 


Fang, where did he take the two kids?

 


The Pot,

he said.

I dropped the rations off there for him.

 


The old Zun-zhe Housing Project?
You have an address?

 

He nodded.

Yeah.
Another old war hound.
Name

s Chen.

 

He took a business card out from somewhere behind the counter and wrote it down in small, neat handwriting before sliding it over.

 


The Pot

s close,

Vamp said.

 

It was. The project was at the far end of Render

s Strip, a low-income dumping ground for about a quarter million old people. It was only a few blocks from the end of the district. Things were looking up.

 


When did you make the delivery?

I asked Fang.

 


First drop was the morning after he got back,

he said.

Next is in two days.

 


I need to find them, Fang.

 


Why?

 


The boy has something I need.

 


What?

 


Never mind that,

I said.

Look, you don

t want any
trouble, right? It

s better if you don

t know. Just give me the rations, I

ll drop them, and you won

t have to worry about it again. Okay?

 

He paused for a second and then waved for me to come closer, back behind the counter. I did, but he stopped Nix and Vamp when they tried to follow.

 


Not you two,

he said.

You wait here. Better yet, wait outside.

 

He grabbed a rope knot from the floor and pulled, lifting up a trapdoor next to his chair that revealed a narrow set of concrete stairs leading down into the dark. He reached under the counter and pushed a button that activated a force field to keep customers away from the inventory and till.

 


Come on,

he said.

 


Just wait here, guys,

I said.

It

s okay.

 

Vamp didn

t look too sure, but he nodded. I climbed down as Fang turned on a light at the bottom of the stairs, closing the trapdoor above me. I followed him into a small basement that had been painted in warm pastel orange and yellows, and fitted with overhead lights. A TV was mounted in one corner, and a desk with a pretty impressive computer rig was set up against one wall. In the far corner was a futon that had a little nightstand next to it. An open doorway with a bead curtain led into a closet with a sit-down toilet. Another doorway on the other side of the room led to another closet stacked with trunks that I guessed contained his inventory.

 

On the walls, he

d taped up neat arrangements of news printouts and photos. The closest one was a picture of a monorail platform, with a sign reading
Shiliuyuán
Station in the foreground.

Other books

Corporate Carnival by Bhaskar, P. G.
Waterproof by Garr, Amber
Bestial by Harold Schechter
Southern Hospitality by Sally Falcon
Tell Me No Secrets by Joy Fielding
Killer Run by Lynn Cahoon