Light Shaper (20 page)

“Take those off,” Barrow told him.

“I… can’t,” Rigel answered from the other side of the wall. Barrow could see his hands grabbing the window ledge and sliding away uselessly.

“Rigel, this isn’t a game. Get in here right now. You want somebody to see you?”

“I can’t!” Rigel yelled, and Barrow flinched at the volume of his voice. They had to keep quiet. Many of the warehouses in the area were still in use, and if somebody saw them, they’d think they were trespassing and call the cops.

“What do you mean, you can’t?” Barrow snapped. He was getting angry again. He was risking his life for this kid, and if Barrow didn’t have the threat of the revelation of the murder hanging over his head, he would have already left. If this kid was going to make it this hard to do something as simple as hiding, they were both as good as dead already. Those people Tanner had sent had looked like professionals to Barrow, not common thugs.

Barrow walked away from the window, annoyed, thinking about his options. He wanted to leave, but Atlas’s threat was still stopping him. Unless…. Maybe it would be better to just run for it, face that his secret crime was out in this city and go to some other Haven. He still had contacts in the airship business. If he acted quickly, he might be able to land a spot as crewman in some smaller vessel headed west, across the ocean. It would be a very long one-way trip, possibly fatal but preferable to this crazy manhunt he was involved in. Yeah. If worst came to worst, he could always turn tail and disappear.

Not now, though. He had been seen by the assassins. He was stuck with Rigel, and if that guy didn’t get his ass inside, they would be found immediately.

Barrow stormed angrily back to the window. He pushed away Rigel’s hands trying to grip the other side, pulled himself up effortlessly, and jumped out through the hole to land back in the street.

“That’s enough games,” he growled, looking Rigel dead in the eye. “We need to get inside the warehouse. Right now.”

Rigel looked up at the window hopelessly. He swallowed. “I can’t,” he said in a small voice.

“What?” Barrow demanded.

“My hands… they don’t work right. I don’t have the strength to pull myself up on my own.”

He looked at the floor as he said it, blushing furiously. Barrow blinked.

“You’re shitting me.”

“I’m not. That’s what the braces are for.” He held up both his hands for inspection, and Barrow saw that what he had taken to be bionic gloves were actually high-tech medical supports. He had seen something like them on a trip, once, but it had been a Prime wearing them. Barrow had just assumed it was yet another bit of technology they would never share with the other cities. If Rigel was wearing some, though, then either he was really rich, or he had really good medical insurance. In any case, Barrow saw that what Rigel was saying was the truth when the kid attempted to climb through the window again, trying and failing to pull himself up with hands that were shaking rather badly. Barrow felt vaguely as if he had ordered a guy in a wheelchair to hurry up the stairs.

“Here,” Barrow said brusquely, crouching and linking his hands together. “Step on my hands. That’s right. Now I’m going to push you up. Get your other leg over the window frame and then drop down. Got it?”

“Yes,” Rigel said straightaway.

Barrow lifted him up easily, and with the extra height, Rigel was able to make his way into the warehouse. Barrow heard him drop to the floor on the other side, and then he himself hurried on through. Only when they were both hidden did he allow himself to relax, walking over to a dusty box and sitting on it heavily.

“Sorry,” Rigel said in the silence that followed, his voice a little tight. “I thought I would be able to pull myself up on my own.”

“Well, we’re here now,” Barrow said, not really in the mood for much conversation. He was thinking about how to best ditch Rigel and if it would really be worth it. He had left the airship business for a reason. There were plenty of people there who knew what he had done, and he had some enemies there. In the slums too. Like Matthew Young, who now had his phone number thanks to Atlas. What if Barrow got a job aboard a ship only for the captain to sell him over to the cops at the first opportunity? Worse, what if the family of that son of a bitch, Young, heard that he was back and tried to get even by killing him? It was risky. The question was whether it was riskier than playing bodyguard to this kid when the richest man in Aurora clearly wanted him dead.

“I endangered us both by standing out in the open for so long,” Rigel was saying. “I’m sorry about that. You just saved my life, and I haven’t even thanked you. I’m really glad you came when you did, Steve.”

Barrow flinched a little at the sound of his first name. Nobody called him Steve anymore, and he had sort of gotten used to not hearing it. He didn’t object, though. He merely grunted noncommittally, shrugging off Rigel’s thanks. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rigel’s hands were shaking still. Again, he felt a slight pang of guilt.

The silence between them stretched, becoming slightly awkward. They had escaped, and now they had nothing to do but wait.

“Does it hurt, what you have?” Barrow blurted at last, nodding at Rigel’s hands.

“What? Oh, no. Well, not if I’m careful. It’s more like weakness, I guess. The braces help. They give me a bit more strength, keep the hand aligned and so on. But if I overexert myself like just now, then yes. It hurts… for many days.”

Another grunt from Barrow. He didn’t know what to say to that, but he noticed he was thirsty and so told Rigel, “I’m gonna go look for some water. Stay put.”

“Sure. And, Steve?” he said, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“Hm?”

“Thanks again.”

“Right,” Barrow said gruffly, and stood up. He was finding Rigel’s attitude annoying, and he didn’t know why, so instead he walked over to the far corner of the warehouse, hoping to find a derelict vending machine that still worked. There was nothing there aside from more random junk. He saw stacks of crates, ship parts, a broken-down terminal, and a dead rat. That was no good. Without a word to Rigel, Barrow walked back to the broken window, climbed through, and stepped out into the street. He walked for a block or so until he found a small automated vendor that took cash. He slipped a few coins inside, and the little robotic arm dropped a couple of electrolyte drinks and some energy bars for him to pick up in return. Grabbing the stuff, Barrow hurried back to the warehouse, stuffed the things in his pockets, and climbed in.

Rigel was peeling off the sweat-drenched T-shirt clinging to his torso, then hanging it over a rusty nail on a little patch of wall that got direct sunlight. He turned around at the sound of Barrow walking toward him.

“Here,” he said to Rigel, throwing one of the drinks his way for him to catch. Too late, he remembered the kid couldn’t use his damn hands.

Rigel tried to catch the bottle. His reflexes were good, but the drink still hit the floor. Even in the dim light of the spacious warehouse, Barrow saw clearly that Rigel was embarrassed.

“Sorry,” Rigel said tightly. Barrow thought it weird that the guy should be apologizing for his disability, but he shrugged and said nothing. He did hold out a couple of the energy bars to Rigel instead of throwing them, though, and pretended not to notice that the kid had to use both hands to securely grab the food without dropping it. Barrow then sat some distance away, took off his jacket, and began to eat.

For a while there was only the sound of plastic wrappers being ripped open as the two of them ate and drank. It was hot enough that Barrow downed the entirety of his drink almost immediately. He thought he should have bought more bottles, but it was too hot to go back out, and besides it would be best if they waited inside for a bit without any more excursions. He ate the bars quickly as well, thinking that he hadn’t had anything to eat since breakfast. Normally he ate like clockwork, every three hours on the dot to keep his energy level high and fuel his workouts. Not anymore, though, not for a while at least. Once again, he was on the run—but this time it hadn’t been his choice.

Rigel had finished eating, setting the garbage neatly aside. The kid then stood up and walked around, apparently unable to stay put in a single place for too long. Barrow followed him with his eyes, noticing the pale smoothness of his torso. Rigel obviously didn’t exercise, but he was naturally lean. When he walked over a patch of sunlight coming from the ceiling, sweat glistened on his chest for an instant. He looked young, barely out of his teens, maybe twenty or twenty-one. The jet-black hair, carelessly messed up as it was, gave a nice contrast to his penetrating blue eyes.

At that moment Rigel turned those eyes to look his way, and Barrow hastily looked somewhere else. There was a mild discomfort in his pants, and Barrow berated himself silently, crushing the bottle he was holding in his hand a bit. He took out his mobile to cover the awkward moment, checking for messages from Atlas, but there was nothing in there yet. Disappointed, Barrow stashed the phone away, crossed his arms over his chest, and started thinking. Atlas had only told Barrow that he was supposed to take Rigel to a safe spot, but he hadn’t said when. What if they had to wait for weeks? Barrow had no way to contact that bastard, and he doubted his mobile would be of much use if it got bugged somehow. Tanner was probably rich enough to do just that, and once they got a GPS lock on him through the phone, they’d know exactly where he was.

“Do you have a plan?” Rigel asked timidly, sitting nearby.

“Not really,” Barrow admitted. He didn’t elaborate.

Rigel shifted around on his seat, but apparently he couldn’t stay silent for long either.

“Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Not that I’m not grateful or anything, but… why did you help me? How did you know where I was?”

Barrow briefly considered lying, but there wasn’t much to gain from it. The quicker Rigel trusted him, the more cooperative he would be, which meant a better chance of survival for both of them as long as they were together.

“Atlas made me do it. Don’t know why. But he’s got something on me, and… well. All I got to do is get you to a safe place, and then my part is done.”

Rigel nodded slowly, taking it in. “So… do you know where?”

“No idea. The guy told me he would contact us once I had gotten you out of that hospital. He didn’t say very much else.”

“But… you shot me,” Rigel said, frowning at Barrow. “Those people at the hospital were sent by Tanner. And you work for Tanner too. You wear a security guard uniform!”

Barrow gave a bark-like laugh. “You mean I
worked
for Tanner. The assassins saw my uniform. They saw my face. By now, Tanner knows that one of his security guards went batshit crazy trying to save the guy he wants captured. I bet he’ll be confused, but not as confused as me. This guy who’s blackmailing me, Atlas, he talked to me right after you got out of CradleCorp. Don’t even know how he hacked into the system there, it’s supposed to be impossible. But he got me, he convinced me, and so here I am. In the same boat as you, at least until I do my bit and drop you off wherever this mysterious guy wants you.”

Rigel lifted his hand to touch the spot on his shoulder where the wound should have been. There was barely a scar left from the shot, and Barrow was amazed at how quickly nanodrones could heal injuries like that. Somehow it still seemed like magic, even if the technology had been imported more than ten years ago.

Rigel saw Barrow looking. “It hurt, you know. The shot.”

“No kidding,” Barrow said. “I got shot once, but with a real bullet. I know what it’s like.”

“Could have been worse, though. You could have shot me in the chest, and I would be dead…. And you also let me get out of the building. I’d almost forgotten. You didn’t take a shot—you just let me go.”

“Well, it was that or killing you,” Barrow said defensively. “And I don’t like killing people if I can help it.”

Rigel nodded, smiling at Barrow. With an unexpected start, Barrow felt a little kick in the pit of his stomach at that smile, at its warmth and sincerity.

“So that’s twice you’ve saved my life today, Steve. Wow. I don’t think I can ever repay you.”

“Forget about it,” Barrow told him.

“I won’t. And I’m sorry you had to do this. You’ve given up your job…. How long had you been working for CradleCorp?”

“Two days.”

“Two days?”

“Yeah. Must’ve broken a record somewhere.”

Rigel grinned, and Barrow found himself grinning too.

Then his mobile buzzed.

Barrow took it out and looked at the incoming message.

This GPS signal is being tracked. Leave the device behind. Run.

—Atlas

Barrow jumped to his feet, startling Rigel.

“We have to move.”

“What?” Rigel asked, sounding confused.

“Come on!” Barrow yelled, grabbing his jacket. Rigel put on his T-shirt hastily.

“But… what happened?”

“Over the window. Come on. I’ll help you like before.” Barrow threw his mobile at the back of the warehouse, where it shattered with a crack.

Rigel hesitated.

Then a sudden booming gunshot broke the noonday silence. Somewhere very close by, glass exploded.

Barrow had the horrible sinking feeling that they were cornered.

“It’s too late,” he said. “They’re already here.”

THEY ESCAPED.
Barely. Then they were on the run for hours, constantly weaving in and out of alleyways, abandoned buildings, and busy thoroughfares where Steve said they would be lost in the crowd. Rigel followed, scared out of his mind, the moments blurring into one another as the same thoughts kept on going round and round through his head.

This isn’t real. This can’t be happening.

He was exhausted by the time night fell, and the punishing outside temperature began to drop at last. He had lost track of where they were. Everything looked different. In a single afternoon, he had seen more of the city than he had ever seen in the entire time he had lived there. And they weren’t stopping yet.