Alive
Book 2
Pt25
1
The darkness seemed to go on and on. Endless. Like the infinite cosmos beyond the blanketed sky. And the hiss of restless waves, breaking madly throughout the night. Breath of the ocean; in and out, and in and out. Forever.
Then there was light. Just a cold blue slice of luminescence at first; then blossoming to a rich blend of pink and amber on the horizon. The great eye of Sol finally peeked over the edge of the world, fanning fiery beams of light into the morning sky, like the blazing steeds of Helios racing for the heavens.
David stretched a yawn and propped up on his embows to watch the sunrise through the opening in the canopy of trees where he lay. The air was crisp on his face, thick with the salty odor of the morning tide. The rising waters had already submerged the roof of an old shoreline casino that had long ago been taken by the rising seas. Never bet against nature.
Ocean sediment had gathered over the decades, mixed with the detritus of humanity, to form something like a beach that stretched about a quater-mile and then vanished into an overhang of forest that had grown since the drowning. An old roadway disappeared into the lapping waves and corroded husks of ancient cars were rocked to and fro by the water.
But above all this wasteland a new day was burning. It always stirred him, the dawn. Like a visual poem.
"'Til the rose above the sky opens, and the light behind the sun takes all."
He spoke these words softly, so as not to wake her. He couldn't really remember where he'd heard them. Some singer, perhaps, from one of his collections; someone everybody else had long ago forgotten. He wasn't even sure what the words meant. But sometimes the beauty lies in the mystery. Sometimes the mystery is the beauty.
Sleep had been difficult, when it came at all. It had been years since he'd slept out-of-doors, with only earth beneath him and sky above. On the times he had dozed off, he'd bolted back to consciousness quickly, as if poked with a prod. Nerves strung tight. He'd had to breathe himself back to calm more than once.
She, on the other hand, had fallen quickly into her dreams, right after they'd…
David smiled as a vivid recollection from the night before flashed into his mind. The sense memory of her pinning him to the ground, her body rocking madly against him.
He turned to gaze on her sleeping face, and felt himself stirring again.
Had that really happened? Had he really made love with her, last night; ushered so unceremoniously into manhood, even in the midst of their dire situation…? Or had it all been some wonderfully frantic dream?
He fell to his side and ran his fingers through the lush curls of her hair. It was like fine black silk, her flesh like satin of deep gold. His touch made her grumble in her sleep, a groggy string of nonsensical noises that sounded like, 'whash shu doimmf mifabawa'… and then trailed off.
She turned away, on her side, and pressed back against him. He wrapped his arms around her and planted a gentle kiss on her shoulder. But she had already retreated into slumber, softly snoring, as if the feel of another's body against hers was nothing new.
Had he been her first? Of course not. He knew that. He accepted that.
She'd grown up in the chaotic realm at the fringe of society, where the moral conventions of the mainstream were seen for the hypocritical pap they were. The children of the lost age needed no lessons in morality from the generation who drowned the world.
The feel of her against him. The aroma of her heat. The rush came again; the invigorating feel of her skin against his. His new flesh urged him on, desiring a repeat of the night before.
'Again', his body whispered hungrily. 'Again!'
'Not now,' David replied to his reawakened desires. 'Let her sleep.'
She'd left him exhausted and panting last night; moaning her name over and over. She'd sat atop him, taking control, pinning him to the blanket and gazing down with a mad look that was somehow angry and ecstatic at the same time. Then she had rocked her magic into him, until that sacred moment had arose and come.
So this was what it was all about; this Orga madness of craving and emotion? He had lost himself in this ritual, this rite. And at that final moment of release, he knew he'd never miss his life as Mecha again.
'I killed him! I killed my father!'
Her words came back in a flash. Thoughts of their love-making fled as her raging confession burned in his brain. The look he'd seen in her eyes. Desperation. Pain. Guilt. The memory almost made him pull away. But instead he gripped her tightly, the same way he'd done when he'd tried to console yesterday.
2
David pushed himself up from the dirty floor where he'd landed, after she'd shoved him away. He brushed the dust off his clothes as he watched her retreat to the shadows again, where she stood, whimpering like a wounded child. His anger fell away to be replaced by sympathy and confusion.
What to say? He had no idea. He'd never faced anything like this in his short time as Orga. He'd felt loss, yes. Plenty of that. And he'd seen loss, seen emotional pain in the eyes of others. He'd learned to empathize in a way that he would have never known as Mecha. But to be responsible for the death of a loved one; to carry that guilt…? He had no idea what weight that could put on the heart. So, he just stood there, feeling impotent as he waited for her emotional outburst to subside.
Her tears had not lasted long, not by anyone else's standards. But she was The Wiz Kid; child of the underworld. She was already navigating the dark corridors of society when most children were still emailing requests to Santa Claus. Her emotional standards were different. It was surely only minutes, but felt like much longer, before she finally composed herself.
David stepped towards her, but stopped when he saw her start to move away. He put up his hands to let her see he would respect the distance between them. Then they were both quiet for a time.
When she finally broke the silence, her voice was calm, her words measured.
"Nance was the first to leave. She didn't like the deal from the beginning; letting those stooges set up shop in the building without even checking who they were, or what they were up to. But they were tossing up newbucks like confetti, and Sy wanted a taste of that. Like I said, things got tight after you ditched.
"I can't even tell you what they looked like. Nobody ever saw 'em 'cept Sy. But we could hear 'em. Slipping in and out of the building all hours of the night.
"And then came the first time… the first time we heard a kid."
David groaned, felt his anger returning. Wizzy paused a moment, as if she was letting him digest the information. Then she continued.
"It was really faint. Wouldn't have heard it if we'd been talking. But it was past lights out and everybody was sleep, 'cept me, Sy and Nance. The kid wasn't crying or anything, just talking with someone as they passed through the hallway downstairs. We heard someone shush the kid and Nance got pissed. Made a fuss until Sy went down to find out what the hell was gong on.
"He was gone a while, and Nance was getting worried. But when he got back he just shrugged it off, said it was nothing. That we shouldn't get involved. Nance was having none of it, said she ain't gonna be part of whatever sick shit was going on down there. Sy goes off, says, 'don't forget who rules round here.' Nance couldn't believe he said that shit. Got up in his face, said he had delusions of grandeur. Sy laughed, said 'I don't mean me, woman! I mean the dead presidents'. Then he flashed a stack of newbucks in her face."
"Really?" David moaned. "Money? He looked away for money?"
"Yeah," Wizzy replied sadly. "Nance did too, at first. But that didn't work for long. Two days later she was gone. Took all her stuff with her, and a few of the younger crew. Told me I should get out too, that she felt something was wrong with Sy and bad stuff was about to go down. But Sy was blood. I had to stay.
"Tank took off with a few older guys. Animal hung on for a while. But Sy just stopped talking to anybody. Started disappearing a lot. We barely saw him anymore. Said he was involved in something big."
Wizzy fell quiet a moment. David could hear her breath coming faster and knew she was about to unload something painful. How he wanted to go to her, to hold her. But he respected the distance, and listened.
"The thing is... he knew," she said. Even as softly as she had spoken David could hear her pain. "He knew they were doing things to those kids."
"No. Not Sy," David replied quickly. "He couldn't have known that! He… he…" But he stopped himself. He hadn't been there. He had no idea what went down.
"I mean… Sy saved me from Olmier," he offered, weakly.
"You were part of the crew," she replied in an almost flippant tone. "You were like family. You earned your place, earned his respect. But those kids… they were illegals. Toss aways. They weren't even supposed to exist."
"I can't believe Sy would think that way," David said, grasping desperately at the image of the man who had taught him how to survive. He didn't want to believe what she was saying. Genuine sorrow flooded into his heart.
"I didn't want to believe it either," Wizzy sighed. "But when those crash monkeys started showing up, and his old crew started falling away, or teaming up with other crews, Sy just shrugged it off; said these new guys had serious players behind them, and there was big money down the road. Told me I needed to hang in with him until we could cash out. That we'd make enough green to move inlands, get a place in the New Islands.
"But I didn't want no part of it. And I told him that. He just said 'go on then. You think you can make it on your own, then get the hell out!"
David gasped at those words.
"Sy said that… to you?" he said, unbelieving.
"I know, right?" she said. "It was like… like he became somebody else. Like they were drugging him or something. But it was just the money, wasn't it? He'd been fighting so long, just to keep things going. And then the whole feud with Olmier… it probably took the will out of him. The idea of making enough to get a new identity and go chill in some mountain retreat for the rest of his life… well, that shit can get to anybody."
Quiet fell again. David took a tentative step towards her. She did not retreat. He reached out slowly to put his hand on her shoulder, and was surprised to feel her fall easily against him. They stood that way for a time, rocking gently together in the dark.
"Did you know?" David said. "Did you know the fire would…" But he couldn't finish the question. He was already sorry he'd started it.
"I didn't set the fire to kill Sy," she whispered, pressing hard against him. "I set the fire to destroy their lab. Sy was already dead. I killed him with a neutralizer."
Then she began to cry again. David clung to her tightly, feeling his own tears began to flow.
3
Another lyric by that forgotten singer came back to David:
"You carry the weight of inherited sorrow, from your first day to your last."
"It wasn't your fault, Tamara," he whispered into her ear. "You were just trying to do the right thing."
She mumbled a nonsensical response in her sleep, but did not rouse.
She was a murderer. That was the simple, legal truth of it. Millions had died in wars and famine, so that the entitled few could dine on plates of gold in the exclusive comforts of their gleaming spires. But for her single reckless act, she would be labeled a criminal, and hunted, should anyone ever find out. And he already knew this feeling that was growing inside would ever bond him to her.
What now, to do?
He pulled away from her and sat up, hugging his knees. It was impossible to think with her in his arms and his desires driving his thoughts. There was more to being flesh than just flesh; more to manhood than having sex. There was responsibility. Accountability. The weight of their situation had been put on his shoulders and, justly or not, he had to bear it.
He calmed his breath, and felt his doubts relent, leaving in their place the open mind-space where intuition bloomed.
A breeze picked up suddenly, blowing in sand from the ragged shoreline. David turned to see the 500 sitting near the Stratocruiser. Its gaze was distant, as if it was engaged in deep thought. A passerby might think it was just a boy pondering the puzzles of his young life as he took in the morning sun. But it was not. It had never been, and would never be, a living thing. Yet somehow he was. Somehow he had bridged that gap.
Could he do it again? Not that he would ever desire to reside in that digital realm again, but there had been advantages, hadn't there? There had been things he could not do in this 'soft machine'.
"The Boy From Between," he whispered to himself.
101 had given him that title; had ascribed to him a status he did not accept, or even understand. But he begin to wonder if the rogue seen something that he was missing?
As David gazed on the innocent 500, a crazy idea took form in his mind. He forgot himself and his problems and watched in fascination as the idea grew and shaped itself. In moments he realized that he knew how to find 101… and how to fight 101… in a way only he could. For no other Orga had traversed the realms of cyberspace like he.
"Damn!" he said, cursing himself for not seeing it sooner. "Right before my face the whole time."
His excitement was growing as he shoved hard at Wizzy. She bolted up, covering her breasts and glaring at him with sleepy eyes.
"Dammit, David!" she groaned. "What the-"
"Ya know, you're really cute when you're pissed off," he said, rising and brushing sand off his naked body. "And that's good because you're pissed off a lot."
"Boy, I'll smack the pretty right off you," she grumbled. But her glare melted into a sly smile as her eyes roamed over his trim frame, which seemed to glow in the morning light.
David smiled back as he knelt to gather his clothes. He knew what she was thinking. He'd been thinking the same thing a few minutes ago. But there was work to be done.
"C'mon, get dressed," he said, slipping his pants on. "No time for dallying... or uh, anything else."
Her look of disappointment was reassuring.
"Okok," she moaned, rising and stretching her beautiful golden frame to yawn off her sleep. David admired her body openly. She did not turn away, just unabashedly watched him too, as they dressed. Both knew they'd be too busy for a repeat of last night any time soon. Both knew they'd make up for lost time the moment they had the chance.
"So, where we off to now?" she said, when they were ready.
"Someplace 'familiar'," David replied with a wink, and the two began to make their way for the Stratocruiser.
(cont…)