22 – Clues and Conflict

Addie pointed to the building across the street. It was a squat, two-story made of extruded cement with windows guarded by old wrought-iron bars cast in the shapes of flowers and vines. The glass was cloudy and opaque, filthy with grime on the outside, and curtained off on the inside.

She wondered what people considered when they chose a funeral home or if they chose at all; maybe it was just a matter of circumstance. So-and-so knew someone who came here, so they suggested it, and then, because it was close by and reasonably priced, a filthy little hole in the wall like Pulliam’s Funeral Home could stay in business.

“Not very inviting,” Tony observed.

“Yeah, I know.” Addie unzipped her bag and lifted Humpty out.

“Vid time?” Tony watched her activate the drone, sending it hovering near-silently into the air behind them.

“Yeah.” Addie flicked her concentration to the drone, ensuring the feeds were all coming through fine.

“What’s it like?”

“What?”

“Interfacing directly with Dust-tech? Like, could you operate my nanites if you had them?”

Addie frowned at him. “You can’t?”

“Nah. I have to wait until I get a PAI capable of interfacing with them. Right now, they just run on automatic—default settings.”

Addie zipped up her bag and slung it over her shoulders, contemplating her response. It was strange to think she’d made it to her age and never quite realized how unusual her connection to Humpty was. She supposed part of that was due to her dad’s sheltering. He always had an excuse, and she was always quick to accept, especially after she’d come to believe she was “fading.” Dust hadn’t exactly been a topic she’d been eager to discuss with the few people she felt close enough to broach anything beyond a surface-level conversation. “It’s like my senses expand when I reach out to it, I guess.”

“Like your hearing and vision?”

“Yeah, but…different. It’s almost like I can feel the Dust in me, and then I just follow it to the drone, and when it activates, my perception expands.”

Tony rubbed his chin, shaking his head slightly. “I don’t get it. So you can see with your eyes and the drone at the same time?”

“Not exactly. Well, I mean, yeah, but it’s more like peripheral vision unless I focus on it, and then my eyes become more like peripheral vision. I guess it is kind of weird, isn’t it?” Addie chuckled and started across the street in the wake of a Boxer cargo van.

“It’s not weird, it’s badass.” As they mounted the sidewalk, he surreptitiously jerked his thumb toward the corner. “Those guys gonna be any trouble?”

Addie glanced where he pointed, then quickly looked away, hurrying toward the funeral home door. She recognized the colors but not the bangers. “Cold Boys.”

Tony frowned. “Malik’s crew?”

“Yeah. Maybe don’t stare at them.” As Addie pulled the heavy, wrought-iron outer door, a little vid screen set into the door flickered to life, and an AI avatar wearing an old-fashioned suit appeared.

“Hello. Do you require funerary services?”

“I’m here to speak to the director.”

“Excellent, and do you have an appointment?”

Addie was aware of Tony shifting closer, so the open metal door was between him and the corner. She flicked her attention to her drone and scanned the street to see what was bothering him. Sure enough, the Cold Boys on the corner were staring their way, and one of them was speaking animatedly, gesticulating with his fists. She focused on the AI in the vid screen. “Can we please come in? I have important business for Mr. Pulliam.”

“I’m afraid our director isn’t taking visitors at the moment. Perhaps I could interest you in a virtual tour of our services?”

Tony cleared his throat and leaned close. “Well, Addie, let’s try that other funeral home. I heard they have better caskets anyway.”

The image zoomed in on the AI’s face, and it spoke smoothly and with slightly increased volume, “Now, please don’t be hasty. Are you interested in upscale caskets, then? I have a wonderful model you could look at, and Mr. Templeton, our day manager, will be happy to walk you through the options.” The door clicked as the lock was disengaged, and Addie pulled it open, slipping inside. Tony was hot on her heels.

The front parlor of the funeral home smelled like old carpeting, mothballs, and cheap wax candles. The lights were dim, the décor heavy on reds and grays, and, as they entered, a wall panel vid screen flickered to life, and the AI in the suit appeared, seeming to be standing before them with his hands folded respectfully. “Welcome to Pulliam’s Funeral Parlor. I’ve alerted Mr. Templeton to your presence, and he’ll be with you shortly. In the meantime, would you like me to review our basic services and upgrades? Might I inquire as to the nature of your loss? Will it be a loved one that we’ll be putting to rest?”

“We’ll wait for Mr. Templeton,” Addie replied, walking in a slow circle, taking in the stuffy décor. Tony stood in front of the door, one hand resting on the gray-painted plasteel. Addie hadn’t heard it lock, but she assumed it had. The bangers wouldn’t follow them into the parlor anyway, would they? She didn’t think so. A text message appeared on her AUI:

Tony: It’s locked.

Addie smiled at him and mouthed, “Good.” She turned back to the wall display, noting the AI model had turned and was making himself busy shuffling some papers on a virtual desk. She wondered why he didn’t simply make himself disappear when he learned a client wasn’t interested in dealing with him, but she supposed it was merely a matter of customer service; he was there if a question came up.

While she waited for the “day manager,” Addie ran through the questions in her mind, wondering if she should be doing mouth or vocal exercises like the reporters in her favorite serials did. The thought of it was too embarrassing, though, especially with Tony hovering nearby.

After a few minutes, she heard activity from the room or hallway behind the far door, and, with a clatter of locks being undone, the door opened, and a small man in an ill-fitting brown suit came through. He looked to be in his mid-fifties, and though he had a full head of hair, it wasn’t exactly attractively styled—slicked back with something decidedly oily. He cleared his throat and approached, at first directing his attention at Tony, who pointedly ignored him, shifting to stand behind Addie, staring at the curtained front windows.

Addie stepped forward and held out her hand. “Hello there. Mr. Templeton, I presume?”

“Um, yes, hello. Pardon my tardy arrival; I was working with another…client. Now—” He glanced at the AI avatar, still quietly shuffling file folders at his virtual desk. “—My assistant says you need our services. Might I have your name, Miss…”

“Jones. Adelaide Jones, sir.”

Templeton’s eyes unfocused momentarily, and he nodded, clearing his throat. “Daughter of Albert Jones? Boxer hasn’t listed him as deceased. Did something happen last—”

Addie’s eyes widened in horror. His casual assumption that she was there to arrange for her father’s cremation caught her by surprise, and she felt a lump of emotion thicken her vocal cords as she stammered, “N-no, sir, I’m not here about my father.”

“Ah, a friend then? It’s a tragic world out there in the district, isn’t it, dear?”

Addie shook her head and cleared her throat, trying to regain control of the conversation. “Sir, I’m here as an independent journalist. I have some pressing questions for you, questions the public deserves to have answered.” Almost subconsciously, she panned Humpty in a slow circle, zooming in on Templeton’s face. He noticed the silent little drone for the first time, and his eyebrows shot up over his ancient-looking horn-rimmed glasses.

“What’s this? You’re a news crew?” Almost comically, he turned and glared at the AI avatar, silently shuffling his files. “I was led to believe you were here to make a purchase.”

The AI spoke up, though it didn’t make eye contact with anyone, “They mentioned an interest in premium caskets, sir.”

“Sir, I wonder if you could address the rumors about gangs having meetings here in your facility. My sources have confirmed that they’re coordinating their strong-arm tactics at the Royal Breeze Apartments from your parlor. Why would that be? What does a local funeral parlor with deep roots in the community have to do with people being terrorized at Royal Breeze?”

“First of all, this isn’t my parlor, and I can assure you that I have nothing to do with any of that!”

“Well, then, I’m sure you wouldn’t mind providing some clarity. I have it on good authority that four different gang enforcers were meeting here with a corporate representative.”

“That may be, but it wasn’t our corporate rep! This is a family-owned business! Even so, we’re beholden to Boxer just like any other local business. Eighty percent of our business comes to us through their corporate office!” He stepped back, glaring nervously at Humpty, then waved toward the door. “Please leave. I’m not looking for any trouble.”

“Why would a Boxer corporate rep be meeting gang enforcers in your parlor, Mr. Templeton?” Addie was excited; she hadn’t expected to get such a rise out of the man, not so quickly. She glanced at Tony, but he looked utterly tuned out, leaning against the door with his arms folded, his chrome eye flickering with soft amber LEDs in the dim light.

“I didn’t say it was Boxer! I didn’t say there were gang enforcers here! You’re putting words in my mouth!”

“Well, the rumors around the district are even worse, sir.” Addie’s imagination had been working overtime about what could be going on at the funeral home, and she didn’t mind sharing some of her theories as if they were rumors. “Everything from illicit organ sales to gangs offloading victims here so boxer could purchase their body parts for research!”

“That’s preposterous and utterly baseless!” Templeton sputtered, taking a step toward her, his face flushed. Addie didn’t react, but his eyes flicked toward something over her shoulder, and he visibly calmed, taking a step back. Was it Tony? Addie flicked her attention to her drone so she could see Tony without him knowing, but he seemed exactly the same as the last time she’d looked—leaning back against the door, arms folded, an utterly bored expression on his face. Humpty would have the footage, though. She’d check it out when she got home.

“Well, the people deserve an explanation. What’s going on here, Mr. Templeton?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary! Mr. Pulliam made a simple report, and since then, Boxer has been making regular visits to inspect our operations. It’s nothing to worry about. I don’t know why they’re working with the so-called local enforcers, but I imagine it has to do with providing security for their personnel. We’ve had a few higher-profile visitors than usual—in addition to our Boxer rep, that is.”

“What was the report regarding?” Addie stepped closer as she spoke, her voice hushed as she tried to subconsciously convey to Templeton that his words might be off the record, even though they most definitely weren't.

“It’s nothing—as a funeral home, part of our service is to remove Dust reactors from our clients and process them. As you know, the Dust in District Seventeen is less than pure. Well, Mr. Pulliam noted some anomalies in the Dust he was collecting and reported it to Boxer just as he was supposed to. That’s the end of the mystery. Case closed! Now please leave.”

“What kind of anomalies?” Tony asked, startling Addie with his sudden proximity. He was right behind her.

Templeton took another step back and visibly gulped before replying, “District Seventeen Dust has a persistent average of 1.734 on the Luminal Index. Mr. Pulliam noted that a few of the Dust reactors he pulled from clients—all from the same neighborhood—had an average purity nearly a full point higher than that. Of course, the numbers could be meaningless—maybe they purchased more purified Dust and added it to their reactors. I mean, you should know,” he gestured to Addie’s drone, “sometimes a little splurge on higher-quality Dust pays off, especially if it’s for a work-related expense.”

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“Royal Breeze?” Addie asked, stepping closer, almost like she was chasing Templeton as he retreated.

“That’s right.” Again, he gestured to the door. “Now, please leave. I don’t want any trouble, and you’re already treading on Boxer’s business enough as it is. I won’t be party to it!” He tapped his temple. “I’m serious! I’m already placing a call to Boxer corpo-sec! We pay our taxes, and I won’t have Pulliam’s good name dragged through the mud!”

Addie looked over her shoulder at Tony, and, to her consternation, he was once again leaning against the door jam, looking bored. “C’mon, Tony,” she sighed, reaching for the handle. He shifted out of her way, allowing her to pull the door open, and then he took its weight, reaching above her head to pull the heavy plasteel door wide while she pushed the wrought-iron security door open. She glanced left and right, glad not to see any bangers lying in wait, then stepped out into the noise of the district.

Tony let the door slam shut behind them and shrugged. “That was kind of interesting.”

Addie snorted. “Really?”

“What?”

“You didn’t seem interested.”

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and inhaled deeply through his nose, shrugging. “Well, I was. He’s full of shit, by the way, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“Oh, I noticed,” Addie lied. “For the record, what do you think he’s full of shit about?” A break in traffic prompted her to cross the street, and Tony followed.

“The Dust levels. If it were something that could be explained away by a person here or there buying some higher quality Dust, then Boxer wouldn’t be down here investigating.”

Addie nodded. He was right, and she supposed she would’ve drawn the same conclusion if she’d had a minute to think about things. “It must be more widespread than a case here and there. I bet it's everyone from Royal Breeze!”

“What would cause that, though?”

Addie smiled and nudged his ribs with her elbow as she turned down an alley—a shortcut toward more familiar neighborhoods. “That’s the million-bit question. We need to talk to a Dust expert.”

“You know one?” Tony took his hand out of his pocket long enough to lift the sunglasses from the V of his track jacket’s zipper, deftly putting them on.

Addie softly snickered. “I’m quite sure your new eye compensates for brightness.”

“Got something against style?” This time, it was his turn to nudge her with his elbow. “Anyway—Dust expert?”

“There’s a non-profit based out of the NGT tower. They monitor the rads and other, um, ‘Blast effects.’ Maybe we could go talk to them.” Addie glanced at her AUI, checking the time. “Tomorrow, I guess. We don’t want to get caught down there after dark.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Well, not in the tower, but the streets aren’t exactly friendly.”

“Even to a hotshot reporter and Shepherd?” Tony waggled his eyebrows, and Addie found her eyes drawn to a scar that crossed through the edge of his right eyebrow; it wasn’t new, but his bandages had hidden it from her notice before.

She reached up and touched her own eyebrow, indicating the scar's location. “How’d you get that one? It looks older than your others.”

Tony smiled and shrugged. “I’ve got a million of ’em. Probably got that one when I got the snot kicked out of me when I was a teen.”

“That happen often?”

“Sure.” He smiled crookedly. “Part of growing up, isn’t it? Learning to take a beating?”

“I wouldn’t go that—”

“Get down!” Tony shoved Addie toward the rear door of a Vietnamese restaurant, sending her sprawling as she crashed into a pile of crates. Her palms and knees scraped the pavement, and all she could think was what an absolute asshole he was to shove her like that. She couldn’t wrap her head around it. At the same time, the unmistakable roar of gunshots rang out in the alley, and Tony dove to the ground, sliding and rolling across the alley until he sidled up behind an overfull dumpster.

Addie yelped, her senses overstimulated—should she cuss at the rough treatment? Should she wince and blow on the scrapes on her palms, or should she get up and run? She hadn’t been shot at before, not directly.

The guns roared again, and it seemed like they were targeting Tony—the dumpster pinged and clanged, echoing with the impacts of hot lead and polymer rounds. Addie scrambled closer to the restaurant door, eyes wide, her breaths coming fast and shallow. Were bangers shooting at them? Chasing, threatening, even beating up—that was understandable. Shooting, though?

Tony cursed and slid lower, wedging himself into the space between the dumpster and the brick wall behind it. When Addie looked his way and their eyes locked, he grunted, “Drone.”

“What?” Addie asked, wincing and ducking down as more gunshots rang out.

“Your drone! Fly it in their faces or something!”

Addie’s eyes flew wide as she recalled Humpty was still hovering overhead. She flicked her attention to the drone and zoomed him higher, scanning the alley. She saw three bangers, two with guns, the third hanging back, gripping a shock baton as his two buddies continued to take turns lobbing bullets at Tony. What could she do with Humpty? He didn’t have any weapons. He didn’t even have any mechanized arms or—Addie shook her head. What did Tony say? Fly it in their faces? Would that be enough?

“Do it!” Tony hissed as more bullets clanged into the dumpster. Addie winced, and then she did what she was so uncannily good at: she piloted her drone like no one else could. Humpty streaked down and forward, aiming for the closest banger, a wiry man oddly wearing motorcycle goggles and wielding a black rifle with one of those attachment things that made it look like it belonged firmly in the “assault rifle” category. Addie ignored the gun and sent Humpty zipping straight toward his face.

He balked, jerking back behind the trashcan he was hunkered behind, and raised his rifle, trying to track the drone. Addie was too deft with her flying, though, moving Humpty in an S pattern as she rapidly brought the drone around toward his face again, then veered off at the last second, steering him toward the second gunman. Both shooters tried to track the drone, but Addie shot him straight up and then spiraled him downward, really pushing his little anti-grav motor as she gave the two shooters a near-impossible target to acquire.

She was so focused on distracting the bangers that she almost missed it when Tony stood, gripped the side of the dumpster, and vaulted over it. When his feet hit the pavement, he snatched up an old piece of fencing—a broken-off metal post—and darted forward, leaping an overturned shopping cart and bringing the make-shift cudgel against the side of the first shooter’s skull, the one with the “assault” rifle.

Addie almost lost her connection to Humpty when she heard the man’s skull crunch. It was such a disturbing, violent sound that her stomach roiled, and bile rose in the back of her throat. Humpty stalled in the air as she lost her focus, but it didn’t matter; Tony was nothing if not efficient. The metal pipe came up and then down again with a sickening ping as it bounced off the second shooter’s skull.

In a heartbeat, he was on the third guy, knocking his baton out of his hands and smacking his metal pipe into his elbow, his knee, and his forearm, snapping the little bones by his wrist as he tried to block. Then, as the banger turned and stumbled onto his knees, Tony cracked him on the back of his head, sending him flopping onto the pavement.

Tony stood, chest heaving, over the three bodies, and Addie turned and gagged, her stomach clenching, but nothing coming up. The pavement was hot and sticky under her hands, and she could feel the little bits of broken glass and dust grinding into the scrapes on her palms. She focused on that discomfort, trying to inhale and exhale without her stomach rebelling again, but she kept hearing the crunch of the first guy’s skull and the weird, horribly satisfying ping of the pipe as it rebounded off the other bangers’ bones.

Suddenly, strong fingers gripped her arm, digging into her biceps as they pulled, and Tony said, “Come on. We gotta get out of here.”

It hurt where those fingers dug into the soft part of her arm, and Addie jerked, trying to pull away. “Don’t,” she hissed.

“We can’t stay here, Addie. They fired off something like twenty rounds. Somebody’s gonna come calling.” Tony tugged on her arm again, and Addie saw he was scanning the sky—looking for drones, no doubt. He pulled her back the way they’d come, toward the street. “We’ll go another way.”

Addie let him pull her along, but she wanted to jerk out of his grasp. How could he be so calm? How could he do what he did? Who moved that fast? Who went from joking around to cracking skulls at the drop of a hat? She couldn’t stop the words fighting to get past her lips, “You—you killed them!”

He looked at her like she was malfunctioning. “They were trying to shoot us.” He lifted his other hand, and for the first time, Addie realized he had the first guy’s jacket and it was wrapped around the two guns.

“You took their guns?”

He shrugged. “If someone’s going to try to kill me, I’m gonna get paid for the trouble.”

Addie Jerked her arm, finally getting free of his grasp. She supposed it had something to do with him letting go, but that didn’t matter just then. “You didn’t have to kill them!”

He scowled at her, his chrome eye looking suddenly baleful. “Trying to pull punches when someone’s shooting at you is a great way to get dead.” He looked away, and Addie picked up the pace, leading them down to the corner and avoiding alleys for a change. She felt sick and strange, like she was floating outside herself. Thinking that, imagining herself watching her body scurry down the street, putting distance between the two of them and the scene of the ambush, she realized she was watching herself. Humpty was still up there, floating along behind them, so she paused and called him down, stuffing him in her pack while Tony inspected his prizes.

“This is a Cold Boys jacket, right?”

Addie looked at the leather with its two stitched-on skeletal stick figures with oversized skulls. “Yeah.” She shrugged her pack on and started walking again, and Tony kept pace. They were moving quickly, and it wasn’t long until they were in the neighborhood bordering Addie’s. She began to relax, slowing down and shortening her strides. They walked at that more sedate pace for a minute, and as the tension built between them, Addie regarded Tony from the corner of her eye.

Something had changed in her perception of him. A switch had been thrown, and he’d gone from a silly, scrappy, near-stranger to exactly what she’d accused him of just the night before—dangerous. He wasn’t just a fighter; he was a killer. He hadn’t hesitated, and he certainly hadn’t shown any regret. He’d looted the men he’d killed before Addie had even had the presence of mind to stand up and get out of there!

He must have felt her silent judgment because he sighed heavily without looking at her and said, “Sorry, Addie. I’ll talk to Bert about getting my own place.”

“What?” The words came at her out of left field. Did she want him gone? He’d been brutally efficient, but he hadn’t started it, right? Those bangers had shot at them. Addie scanned her memory, trying to remember the men’s faces as she’d seen them through her drone. She didn’t know them, did she?

“I can see I freaked you out, and let’s be honest. Those guys were probably gunning for me because of my fight with Malik. I think at this point I’m bringing more trouble than I’m helping you avoid.”

Addie stopped and turned to him, moving out of the flow of traffic into the shadows beside the stoop of an office building. “You don’t know that. They could have been after us for going into Pulliam’s.”

“Nah, let’s be real. I don’t think we were in there long enough to warrant a kill squad.” He sighed again and shrugged, tucking his jacket-wrapped guns under his arm.

“I…” Addie frowned, lost for words. She idly rubbed at the scrapes on her palm with her thumb. Tony saw what she was doing and reached out with his flesh-and-blood hand, taking her hand, scowling down at the cuts.

“I do this?”

“You were just trying to get me out of danger.” His fingers were warm as he brushed away some of the blood-caked grime. Very softly, almost like she didn’t want anyone to hear, even him, Addie said, “It was the sound.”

“Huh?”

“The sound that pipe made as you…as you hit them.” She tapped her cheek near her eye. “I made the mistake of watching Maisie’s footage of when—” Addie felt her throat getting tight as tears flooded her eyes. “When Simon—”

“Ah, shit.” Suddenly, Tony was pulling her into a hug. Addie resisted at first, but he was gentle and persistent, and she was feeling so many stupid emotions that she caved and collapsed against his chest. The guns dropped to the cement with a rattle, and he put both arms around her, pressing her tight. His chest was hard, and his warmup jacket smelled like a mixture of sweat and deodorant, and Addie wanted to hate it. She wanted to be grossed out or disgusted by him, but she wasn’t. She liked the way he smelled, and his hand pressing gently into the middle of her back felt so good that she stopped trying to hold in her tears and let them flow.

“It sounded just like that,” she cried, “when they hit him.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he kept repeating.

Addie cried softly, sniffing and breathing shakily as the emotions ran their course. Surely, her reaction wasn’t normal. Who shakes and weeps like that? Who lets a near-stranger comfort her after she basically just called him a murderous monster? “It’s…it’s not your fault. I’m sorry, I’m crying. I’m sorry I’m being such a—”

“Shh. Let it out. Your body’s reacting to the adrenaline. You just survived your first combat situation, I think, and it triggered some godawful memories. I’m sorry about all that, but, well, we’re alive. If you wanna cry for Simon, go for it, but don’t you dare cry for those bangers; they didn’t have nice things planned for you after they dealt with me.” He rubbed her back some more, his palm hot against her shoulders, the heat of his chest building where her cheek pressed. Were all men so warm? Was she cold?

“Do you think anyone saw? What about their PAIs—”

“Uh-uh. I pulled ’em. I’m sure Boxer had some drones in the air, but I don’t think they usually get involved in that kind of thing, right?”

Addie sniffed and shook her head. “No, they leave the gangs alone as long as they’re not messing with Boxer business.”

Tony put his hands on her shoulders and gently pushed her back. “Ready to walk? Let’s get you home.”

Addie nodded, feeling stupid and prissy and everything she knew she shouldn’t be, not if she wanted people to take her seriously as a journo. The thought made her blink as she remembered the brief excitement she’d felt after getting her scoop from the funeral home. The horror of the attack had erased that feeling, but it was still there, that exciting news. They were onto something! She took a step back as Tony bent to pick up his package, and Addie caught her first glimpse of the PAI chips he’d pulled, their neural fibers all tangled together in a wad.

“Maybe don’t put this one online,” he grunted, straightening.

“What?”

“The video. Maybe don’t put it online. I think I’ve got enough heat from the locals as it is.”

“I’m not stupid, Tony.”

He sighed again and frowned, shaking his head. “I know, Addie. You’re damn smart. You saved my ass back there, you know that, right?”

“What? How?” Addie fell into step with him as he started moving again.

“With Humpty. You distracted them perfectly. I don’t know anyone who could operate a drone that well.”

Addie didn’t know what to think about the compliment. Was she still upset with him? Was everything under the bridge now that he’d hugged her and told her he—

“Hey, I’m sorry. I really am. If you can’t stand to look at me, just say so. I get it.”

“Just, I don’t know, maybe try not to use a pipe like that around me.”

“Deal. ’Bout time I picked up a new vibroblade or something, yeah?” He nudged her with his elbow, and despite the horror of the subject matter, Addie couldn’t help a half-smile. Yes, he was dangerous, and yes, there was a killer lurking under that grin, but he was kind of goofy and sweet, wasn’t he?

Gamely, she suggested, “How about some kind of stunner or paralytic or—”

Tony laughed and elbowed her, interrupting her litany of less-than-lethal ideas. “We’ll talk about it, all right?”

Addie smiled and wiped her nose with her sleeve. “Yeah, we’ll talk about it.”