Division Zero (46 page)

he searing blue-white light of the astral whip drew harsh shadows over her face as it flickered in the dark. Kirsten’s hair flew about in the whistling gale that all but drowned out Albert’s pleading voice. Marisa had settled into a cycle of soft whimpering sobs alternating with rapid breaths. Each time Kirsten thought she heard a tiny voice behind her sniffle ‘daddy’, her knuckles creaked about the lash. Somewhere deep inside this apparition hid the little boy from the holo-image, frolicking on the beach with his father.

Albert cowered away with an arm over his face, failing to squirm out of Dorian’s grip. One more lash would bring about the end of his existence. The memory of what Albert used to be warred with her anger at what this version of him had done. With each sob behind her, Kirsten’s whip grew brighter. Albert raised his other arm over his face as the whip floated into the air for the final strike. Dorian lifted a surprised eyebrow.

Kirsten hesitated. The look on her partner’s face said it all. This felt wrong.

Who am I to judge?

She lowered her arm, noticing for the first time the sweat on Dorian’s brow. The perspiration intensified as Dorian glanced at the edge of the patio. His Mediterranean skin faded a degree or two more pale. Then she felt the chill come over her from behind. The child’s face pressed into the center of Kirsten’s lower back, her breath warm through the thin cloth. Marisa’s overloaded emotion caused a series of dry heaves; Kirsten rubbed the little arm around her waist with her free hand.

“It will be alright, Marisa. Close your eyes… don’t look.”

A thick fog of darkness swam up over the railing. A sense of dread blanketed the area as even the stars went into hiding. Kirsten relaxed the whip, letting it sag low to the ground where it coiled around her boots. Dorian held on to Albert, eyes locked upon the approaching black.

Kirsten looked down.
Again they come.

“Marisa…” Kirsten squeezed the child’s hands into her gut. “Close your eyes and do not open them no matter what you hear or what you feel. You are not in danger, but you don’t want to see this.”

I’m not sure I do.

Thick black smoke welled up over the edge of the wall, rising into a legless humanoid shape with pale flickering sparks where eyes should be. Kirsten glanced up at it, and to her surprise, its smoky face turned toward her. As soon as it no longer looked at him, Dorian bolted through the door, out of sight. Wispy tendrils of fog threaded from Albert’s body as if drawn into a black hole. The spirit wriggled, unable to flee from the Harbinger.

Her words came out in a weak hint of a voice. “Please, a moment?”

The apparition returned a curt nod and refocused its stare at its quarry, but ceased moving closer. Albert slid backwards, and slumped against the glass wall. Wispy threads of black infiltrated the ghost’s form, rising out of the ground as the Harbinger held him in place.

The shock of it honoring her request wore off in a few seconds. “What happened to you, Albert?”

The glow in her eyes faded and the tendril of energy dissipated, darkening the area with its absence.

“I thought Intera was different. They were great at first, but they stifled my creativity and refused to compensate me for my talent. They
killed
me because I wanted a better life. What right do they have to kill me just for wanting a better job?” Albert glanced out into the sky, searching for Mars. “They never even made a counter offer. I would have stayed.”

Kirsten shook her head in disgust. “So that’s all this was?”

Albert nodded, again gazing to the black form waiting at the edge. “I wanted to ruin them. You were right, it wasn’t one person; I wanted the whole company to go down.”

“You lost whatever piece of your soul your father admired. Innocent people are dead for no other reason than you wanted more money or more recognition. How are their lives worth less than yours?”

His eyes searched her face for an answer.

After a minute of silence, he gasped, “They’re not. I… I’m sorry.”

She offered a respectful bow to the black form.

It drifted closer, making Albert scream. “Wait, no, don’t let it get me… You promised my father…”

“Albert, you sealed your fate the moment you killed the innocent. There is no walking away. I promised your father I would not destroy you, and I am not going to. Your fate might improve if you accept responsibility for what you did. Maybe someday, somewhere, you’ll find that beach again.”

After the lashing, the lines of Albert’s body had faded to indistinct foggy whorls, leaving him transparent and spectral, too weak to appear solid. He stared at the looming blackness, shivering as it drifted closer and closer. He pantomimed taking a deep breath, stood up, and his shivering stopped. Wispy claws of infinite black spread out from its hands in preparation to strike.

Albert stepped toward it as if to surrender.

The Harbinger leaned its head back in acceptance as its talons faded into its formless body. Raising an arm, it engulfed him in a cloak of shadow and vanished in a smear of night that darted across the ground and over the edge of the building.

Kirsten let her emotions settle, watching the Harbinger fade off into the distance as the all-consuming dread waned. In the span of breaths, everything fell quiet save for the wind. Dorian ventured onto the patio. He looked tired, but smiled anyway.

“I have never seen one of them even acknowledge a person before, what aren’t you telling me?” He wandered closer, wearing a strange smile.

Kirsten stared into the night. “I have no idea…”

“What aren’t you saying?” He poked her.

“It’s probably nothing, but… when I was hanging on the ad-bot, I wanted the Harbingers to come for the man that tried to kill me. As soon as I did, they showed up. The same thing happened here when I decided not to destroy Albert.”

“Outside Albert’s apartment, too.” He smiled for a quiet minute. “It’s probably just coincidental timing.”

She thought for a moment, and gulped. “Yeah, probably.”

“Three coincidences.” He winked.

The warm spot in the center of her back grew cold as Marisa lifted her face away. “Can I look now, miss?”

“Of course, sweetie.” Kirsten turned to face her. “Let’s get you out of this cold.”

Marisa peeked at the patio, clutching her hands to her chest. “Officer? Who were you talking to?”

“My partner.”

The child leaned around her, looking left and right. “I don’t see anyone.”

Kirsten winked at him. “He’s sneaky like that.”

She carried Marisa into the much warmer office, closing the doors to block out the wind. Shock dulled the girl’s emotions. No longer crying, she gazed into the distance. Kirsten knew the stare well. The psychiatrists said the same thing about her ten years ago, so much trauma she just shut it all away to deal with later. Easing her into one of the soft chairs, Kirsten covered her with the blanket from the couch, noticing a bruise at the base of the neck where the doll had gripped her dress. Marisa cringed at the approaching stimpak, but relaxed when it did not hurt.

The girl pulled the blanket tight. “Where will I go now?”

“Your mother wants you to live with your aunt.”

Marisa frowned into her lap. “My mother’s dead.”

Kirsten put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I know. I spoke to her the other day. She is still worried about you.”

The girl looked up. “Is she a ghost?”

“Yes, she is.”

“Does it hurt?” The innocence of the question choked Kirsten up.

Some ghosts, like the ones at the asylum, existed in perpetual agony. Circumstances of death played a large part, but that subject sounded far too philosophical for an eight-year-old to deal with in the wake of losing both parents. Mrs. Talbot had not acted as if suffering, so she felt confident in her answer.

“No, she is just worried about you.”

Marisa stared for a long minute, breaking the silence with an awkward question.

“Who was the black cloud man?”

Kirsten flicked the kid’s nose with one finger. “I told you not to look.”

She fidgeted. “I peeked a little.”

“Well, Marisa, there are good people and there are bad people. When really bad people die, those things come to punish them.”

“Did it take Daddy too?”

She exchanged grimaces with Dorian. “Uhm… I don’t know.”

“The bad doll said Daddy killed Mommy. Did he try to kill you?”

“It was a mistake. He thought I wanted to steal from him.”

“But you’re a police lady! Police people don’t steal.”

Dorian chuckled. “Oh, from the mouth of babes.”

Kirsten offered a weak smile and a shrug.

A single tear rolled out of Marisa’s eye. “If Daddy was bad, wouldn’t the black cloud man take him away too?”

Wait, what? The girl saw it too? Sometimes kids can… She doesn’t feel psionic. Did that one manifest?

A part of Kirsten’s mind created a mental image of an ocean of Harbingers waiting at the street level for Lucian with eager claws; but a stronger idea replaced it. Kirsten sat down and put an arm around the girl’s back.

“Your dad did some very bad things. But in his last moments, he gave himself to protect you. He could have jumped for the railing to save his own life, but he loved you too much.”

Marisa’s face contorted as sadness took over. The tears returned. Kirsten patted her on the back, telling her to let it out, and comforting her as she wailed for some minutes.

Dorian glanced at the wall seconds before a voice bellowed in from outside.

“Some suit takes a friggin’ swan dive off the penthouse, what’s to investigate? Ya don’t need a medical degree to determine the cause of death for this guy: Sudden Pause of Linear Accelerated Trajectory. Or, as I like to call it, SPLAT.”

“Man, you gotta have some kind of problems to do a thing like that. Couldn’t have the decency to just shoot himself? He coulda killed someone on the way down; fell right through the hover lane.” The sound of armored boots joined in with the voices.

The first spoke again, a hint of laughter between his words. “Did you see the car? You could almost recognize his face in the frickin’ dent.”

An automatic door hissed.

“Damn, what the hell happened in here? Looks like the guy didn’t just off himself. Total meltdown, talk about a bad day on the trading floor.”

The inner office door opened with a pneumatic squeak as two Division 1 patrol officers walked in, surveying the scene. Marisa had stopped sobbing and stared at them with a look of silent revulsion as tears continued to run down her cheeks.

“What the heck is wrong with you?” Kirsten glared at them. “I see your sensitivity training has paid off. I’m sure Mr. Talbot’s little daughter appreciates your respect for her father.” Kirsten squeezed the girl protectively.

The two men stared at the girl, then at each other, then at Kirsten, and then at Kirsten’s rank insignia. “Uhm… Sorry, ma’am.”

“Did you park on the roof? Grab a real blanket for her.” Kirsten half-yelled at them while she ran her hand over the child’s hair to soothe her.

“No, ma’am. This one’s pointy, no roof landing pad. We’re parked all the way over in the northeast tower. Got the full tour on the way over.”

One of the officers called over the comm for someone to bring up a blanket and a med team. Kirsten comforted Marisa while the police secured the area and a medical crew arrived, pulling a clean white hoverbed. Kirsten helped lift her onto the waiting stretcher after a few passes from scanners showed no major injuries.

“Don’t go.” She refused to release Kirsten’s hand.

“I have to find your aunt. It’s okay, Marisa, these people will take good care of you. I’ll see you in a few hours at the hospital. You’re safe now, it’s over.” Kirsten turned to the senior medic. “She has an aunt whom the mother wishes to take custody. I’ll get back to you as soon as I have a name and address.”

The girl’s fingers slipped through Kirsten’s as the medics left, pushing the floating stretcher. Marisa stared until solid wall came between them. Kirsten fell back into the chair with a heavy sigh and a pang of sadness.

Dorian settled on the seat next to her, hand on hers. “They’re not figurines, you can’t collect them all.”