The Rule of Luck (28 page)

“It was precautionary in case things went bad and he couldn't take the queenmind or thought he might be caught. Tsarist Consortium can't be involved.”

“But…No, that can't be right. Vaporizing the building? That's insane. He's still down there! We need to go back!”

“We go now or risk pull of vapor-seal when tower goes.”

“We can't leave him!”

“Detonation in one minute. We stay, we die.”

The helicon banked swiftly, racing from the tower. I tumbled to the other side of the helicon, grabbing what I could to keep steady. The hatch slammed shut and hands hurled me into my seat again. My eyes were glued to the tower. Everything in me stopped. My breathing. My thoughts. My heart. I waited as if in suspended animation, hoping, praying some miracle would happen.

Except, it didn't. One moment the tower stood. The next, the air sizzled and it seemed like any potential energy in the area was sucked inward, toward the tower. The lights of the buildings around us either dimmed or went out before coming on again seconds later. Then, in one horrendous blast of white light, the tower vanished.

The helicon dipped perilously as the blast wave rocked us. The pilot cursed and wrestled the machine back into position, hitting the instrument panel with each word. The engine sputtered, stalled, restarted again. In those tense moments, no one spoke. Even when we leveled and the pilot's cursing eased, we stayed silent. We banked again, getting one last unobstructed view of what remained of TransWorld.

I gasped. There was nothing but drifting smoke. We were too high up to see the chaos on the ground or how those below had fared. All I could register was how completely it had been vaporized. Everything was gone. Everything.

I sat back in my seat, eyes unseeing, numb and feeling coldness spread through me. I wanted to throw up, but couldn't. I couldn't do anything, not even cry. My body could do nothing but sit there. No, that wasn't true. I could think, but the thoughts kept looping back on themselves, threatening to drown me in a flood of despair: If I had the luck gene, how could it all have gone so wrong? How could I lose everything all at once?

I didn't feel lucky at all, and suspected I wouldn't feel much of anything for a long time.

The helicon was abandoned outside Curitiba, and I found myself back with Oksana and Vadim in the flight-limo. The rest of the people involved presumably had their own means to leave the country and lay low. A terse, silent ride brought the three of us to a private airstrip where a Consortium jet waited. Though I'm sure it was luxurious inside with room enough to fit several people, I was blind to my surroundings.

After I buckled in, Oksana handed me a glass of water and two blue pills. I looked up in question.

“It will make you sleep for the duration of the trip.” She sounded tired and drawn. Her lovely face looked pinched. When she took her seat, she knocked back her own handful of pills. “I suggest you take them. You won't have to think for the next several hours.”

“I don't understand. There had to be another way. Why did he go back after my mother? Why did he destroy it all?” My voice cracked and I had to clear my throat to get the words out.

“I don't know,” she said before turning to gaze out the window. “Just take the pills.”

I followed her lead, swallowing, then chasing them with water. Right now, not thinking was a blessing. Soon we were in the air. By the time One Gov closed borders to all traffic, we'd already left Brazil and were en route back to Kenya.

It seemed like only a blink of time passed before we landed in Nairobi. I looked out my window as we began our descent to another private airstrip. The sky was a dark, cloudy gray. The ground looked rain-soaked with evidence of a recent downpour. The roof of the lone shack at the edge of the runway glistened darkly, and stray droplets hit my window. A glance at my bracelet indicated it was midafternoon. The whole trip had taken a little over eight hours.

Without a word, we gathered our gear and exited to the waiting flight-limos. Oksana walked toward one, head down and shoulders hunched. I had moved to follow when Vadim caught my arm and led me to the other. We hurried to avoid the scattering of raindrops.

“This will take you home,” he said as the chain-breaker opened the door for me. “Someone will be in touch with the final details regarding the completion of your contract with the Consortium and ensure you are paid in full.”

I stared at him.

His expression was very hard and very cold. “Should you decide to speak to any authorities about what happened, your life will be forfeit—though I'm sure you already know that.
Do svidaniya,
Ms. Sevigny. Try to have a nice life.”

He strode briskly to where Oksana waited. I watched in mute surprise as they got in, the door slid closed behind them, and the flight-limo engines ignited. Oblivious to the rain on my face, my eyes followed their vapor trail until the clouds obscured it. Their abandonment cut through me like a knife. Did they blame me for what happened? Was it my fault it had all gone so wrong? Had I asked them to come swooping in and put everything at risk? No. Yet they'd done it anyway and the result was more horrible than I could even contemplate. Alexei Petriv was gone. As quickly as he'd come into my life and thrown everything in it into chaos, he'd vanished. It was all over before it had even really begun.

That realization hurt more than I imagined. I felt sliced open and numb, as if everything had been torn out and taken from me. It wasn't like we'd fought, broken up, and would never speak to each other. I was literally never going to see him again. Ever. The way he smelled, how he looked at me, the feeling of his hands on my skin, or his unguarded expression when he came inside me and I saw how much he wanted me—I would never experience any of those things, no matter how much I might want them. It had all been so fleeting and quick, with barely any time to make a proper memory. How would I be able to remember him clearly? How could I hold on to any of this?

The complete and total loss was so staggering, my stomach heaved and I threw up on the ground beside me. I'd barely finished when a hand gripped my arm and hustled me into the waiting flight-limo. Within the hour, I was home. It set down by the curb in front of my condo, and the door slid open. I got out, peering up at the building that had been my home with Roy. Before I'd even gathered the belongings the chain-breaker dumped on the curb, the flight-limo took off.

I had no trouble getting into either the building or the condo with my new access codes. Inside, I found everything placed where it had been before. My precious Tarot decks were all in their cabinet as if they'd never left. My quirky table Eleat was waiting for my input. Even the food I'd had lying around my kitchen was there. The attention to detail shocked me. How had he remembered?

No, that wasn't entirely true. One thing was different: the bed. As soon as I reached the master bedroom, I saw it wasn't the same. This one was more expensive than anything I could have afforded and that shocked me—not the expense, but that he'd been sensitive enough to know this was one thing I'd have wanted to replace. The headboard was one massive piece of carved wood, stained a dark mahogany. I had no doubt in my mind that the wood was real and not a cheap synthetic fab knockoff. The mattress was plush and deep.

I stared at it blindly. Had he thought…that someday he'd be here with me or he'd help me break it in? Perhaps that had been his plan all along, despite everything—that we'd somehow end up together. That I'd look beyond the creature the Consortium had created and see something more, something…human. In our last seconds together, he hadn't wanted me to think of him as a horrific monster grown in a genetics lab, designed to be leader of the Consortium. He'd wanted to be human, for me.

My legs went out from under me and I sank to the edge of the mattress, then crawled to the middle of the bed, inhaling its newness. I pulled the blankets around myself as the horror of everything swept over me at once. I would have liked more blue pills, but Oksana hadn't offered and I'd been too numb to ask. There was nothing I could do but lie there in a fetal position and cry.

I thought of Alexei and how he'd smiled at me the last time, his gentleness as he'd touched my cheek. If everything had gone according to plan, we would have talked after and maybe…maybe, I'd be with him right now. Maybe…No, there were no more maybes. I clutched the blankets tighter as my heart broke. Why hadn't I said something to him? Why hadn't I told him that maybe there could be a future for us? What hadn't my gut warned me sooner? Or let me know that we were never going to have a later?

Terrible, shattering sobs followed. I couldn't control or stop them. I felt like everything in me was broken, leaving me to choke on the pieces. I could have had everything I'd ever wanted. I just hadn't realized it. But wasn't that how it always went—life gives us all a chronic inability to see what is right there in front of us until it's gone? Luck had preserved me, alright; preserved me for a life full of loss, emptiness, and pain. As I lay there on the bed, I realized that luck had a third rule: If you thought you could rely on it to make you happy, you were wrong. It would only smash you apart in the end.

That was how Charlie Zero found me many days later. Oh, I'd gotten up to use the bathroom, change out of my stealth-suit, and eat what little food I found in the condo. But beyond that, I'd managed little else. I couldn't bring myself to reply to the endless stream of messages on my c-tex bracelet. What did any of it matter? I ran my cards several times, praying they might offer some sort of hope or an explanation for the disaster in Brazil, or what Alexei had been thinking before he'd vanished. Instead my brain couldn't make sense of the answers and it seemed like all the readings contradicted each other.

When the pounding started on my front door and I heard Charlie yelling out in the hallway to haul my lazy ass up and answer him, I forced myself out of bed. I'd get complaints from the neighbors otherwise. Plus, dealing with him would let me get back to wallowing in my misery that much quicker.

I shuffled down the hall with a blanket wrapped around me. It was cold in the condo. I hadn't noticed before and made a mental note to adjust the air. In the entranceway, I tripped over the suitcases I'd dumped there days ago. When I finally opened the door, Charlie's pounding had reached a fever pitch.

“Calm down,” I said, voice hoarse. “I'm right here.”

I'd caught him in mid-pound, his fist raised to offer another blow. Seemed like everyone was interested in breaking down my door.
Not funny,
I told myself recalling the moment with Alexei when everything had come crashing around me.
Not funny at all.

Charlie's arm dropped and his dark brown eyes looked me over with a critical gaze. Then it went from harsh to sympathetic, and he made a
tsk
ing sound.

“I told you not to, but you did it anyway. You fucked the Russian.”

I sighed. “Hey, Charlie. Want to come in?”

He stepped inside, looked at my mess, and took a none too subtle sniff. Great. Apparently I stank. “I assume Roy no longer lives here?”

“He's an asshole.”

“I know more than a few who'd agree with that assessment.” He closed the door behind him. In his impeccable black-and-white-striped suit and the shocking blond hair he'd decided to spike today, he looked a damn sight better than I did. “I'd say tell me what happened, but it looks like you may not be ready.”

“Thanks, Charlie. I appreciate that.”

“Don't appreciate it yet. I'm here because the two weeks are up as of tomorrow and I'm ready to open up shop again. I've been trying to get in touch with you, but you haven't returned my shims, which is frustrating as hell. Plus, the damned Russians haven't paid us. From the look of you, I'm guessing that's a lost cause too. No offense, kid, but I knew those Russian bastards would find a way to fuck us over. So much for my faith in human nature. Two weeks of revenue, all gone. Fucking Russians.”

To my surprise, I laughed. It wasn't because I felt better or my life was any less of a mess. I just enjoyed a good Charlie Zero rant, and it was better than crying. He was as dependable as the rainy season and I loved him for it. His anger at the practical and mundane gave me hope things might someday be normal again.

As if my laughter had given it permission, my stomach rumbled to let me know it wanted more than cheese with the mold cut off. I took a whiff inside my oversized sweater. Yup, I stank.

“Let me clean myself up, and move some of this”—I waved at the mess around the front door—“and you can take me out to dinner since I have calories to spare this month. You can tell me how you spent the last two weeks and fill me in on Natty's cooking cruise. I'm sure she bored you with all the details.”

He looked at me critically. “You sure you don't need more recovery time, kid? I love money, but I care about you more.”

From Charlie Zero, that was high praise. I nodded. My gut seemed to approve with mild hesitancy. Maybe things wouldn't be normal for a long while, but I'd get there. “Yeah, I'm sure.”

I threw myself back into work because I had no other choice. We needed to make up for the two weeks of revenue we'd lost, and I needed to keep busy. Worrying about other people's problems was a blessing. Knowing I helped my clients helped me feel better about myself, while giving me less time to dwell on my own pain.

Weeks passed and sometimes, I could almost pretend things were okay. I started taking language classes again since it helped eat up my free time. I reconnected with friends and tried to remember what it was like to have fun. Everyone made sympathetic noises regarding my breakup with Roy—I concocted a simple story about our relationship imploding, which everyone accepted without question. No one had ever understood why I'd even wanted to tie myself down to him in the first place when there were so many other men to choose from.

However there were other times when I relived the whole Brazil nightmare over again. I hadn't seen the initial media coverage of the TransWorld incident, but it dominated the CN-net for weeks afterward. Not only had their main headquarters on Earth vanished, their star cruiser en route from Mars had exploded before takeoff. No passengers were injured, but the ship was damaged beyond repair and the crew had died. There were no suspects, no leads, no terrorist groups stepping forward to take credit. Though I had no proof of it, I suspected it was the Consortium's work and they were cleaning up loose ends. Now nothing stood in the way of them securing a hold on Mars.

The whole TransWorld fiasco was billed as the single greatest assault on humanity since the Dark Times. People were terrified. Worldwide panic almost burnt out the CN-net and crashed the markets as information spooled back and forth, uploaded and downloaded in a frenzied sea of chaos. For a while, all flights between Earth, Mars, and Venus were suspended—which caused an uproar. However when there was no follow-up attack, media coverage waned. Flights resumed, and a company called the Burroughs Group—the company the Tsarist Consortium had backed—took over service for TransWorld. Their star cruiser, the
Martian Princess
, launched a few days later. I'd lived with a specter of fear hanging over me, worried I'd be implicated. But as the weeks turned into months and nothing happened, I began to relax.

It would be nice to say my life returned to normal, but it didn't. I occasionally had moments that left me confused and disoriented. I walked around in my own personal fog and didn't know what to do with myself. Restlessness consumed me. I wanted…Well, what I wanted was impossible. I would never see Alexei Petriv again, no matter how much I wished for it or how many sweat-soaked dreams I had about him. I had to find a way to close that chapter of my life whether I wanted to or not.

Along with that came the need to throw away every piece of my old life and start over. Maybe Mars. Maybe Venus, although the settlements weren't as established so there might not be much call for Tarot card readers. All that mattered was getting away from the familiar and trying again. I even avoided Grandmother's birthday party, despite my promise to attend. So much for never going back on my word. It pissed off nearly everyone in the family to the point that even Rainy refused to speak with me. His wife, Zita, ended up leaving him over his blacklisted status—something I hadn't been able to do anything about, yet he held me responsible anyway. Grandmother herself even broke down and shimmed me to give me the tongue-lashing she felt I so richly deserved.