The Quantum Price Page 2

  They all stood that way for a moment, sizing each other up, when finally the graybeard held out a hand. “Seamus O’Malley.” He grinned. “Pleased to meet you. Call me crazy, but I’d say you could use a bit of help?”

  The man smiled then. “I think it’s fair to call that an understatement, sir.”

  Seamus barked a laugh. “‘Sir!’ Now there’s a word I haven’t heard in many a year. I hope you’re taking notes, Billy. Seems our new friend here might teach you a thing or two about respecting your elders.”

  The third stranger grimaced and spat. He was a young chubby thing with two pistols on his hips. “I’ll respect your lips on my ass.”

  “So what’s your name, stranger?” Seamus asked, turning back to the man.

  There was a long moment as the man tried to remember. Tried to force his mind back beyond these last twelve hours. But his mind was met again with only darkness. Darkness and a wave of vertigo that made him wobble on his feet.

  Finally, he shook his head, trying to ignore the knots of fear percolating in his gut. “I don’t know,” he said.

  Seamus stared at the man for a moment, then shrugged with another grin. “Who among us knows who we are anyway? How about a hot meal and a bed instead? In the meantime, this here is Billy, and this here is Kate.” Kate nodded, but Billy just scowled.

  They walked about a quarter-mile back in the direction the man had come from the night before, then cut straight toward the cliff, where Kate pulled aside an old refrigerator door to reveal a passage into the heap.

  Seamus talked as they made their way through the tunnel. The walls were jagged enough that the man couldn’t figure out if the tunnel had been carved through the heap or just stumbled upon. The smell of decay was thick, almost oppressive. The air was hot with the exothermic reactions of organic waste. In several places they had to crouch to squeeze under especially large pieces of debris.

  “So, the million-dollar question is how a Squish like you came to be in a place like this?” Seamus said, pulling aside a rusted old piece of chain link fence.

  “I don’t know,” the man replied. “I just woke up here yesterday. Started walking. I can’t remember anything.”

  “Boss, I think he’s got that, um, amnesia,” Billy said, uncertainly stretching out the ‘e’ in amnesia.

  “Yes, Billy. That is what it’s called. I wouldn’t worry too much about it, son,” Seamus continued to the man. “Memories always come back.”

  “Where did you wake up?” Kate asked.

  The man shrugged. “Everything looks the same.”

  Seamus laughed. “Spend enough time here and it don’t. How long would you reckon you walked for?”

  “Most of the day. Maybe six or seven hours.”

  “And was the sun behind you or in front of you when it set?”

  “In front.”

  Seamus and Kate exchanged a glance.

  “Could have been the Aegis Corp hauler,” Kate said. “It dumped down around there two nights ago.”

  “And they drop their loads from closer to the ground,” Seamus continued. “Could be survivable.”

  “What’s Aegis Corp?” the man asked.

  Seamus spat derisively. “Government contractors. Handle disposal of sensitive materials and information. You piss off anyone important lately?” Before the man could reply, Seamus grinned. “Right, I forgot. You don’t know.”

  The man was about to ask more when Billy shoved aside a piece of sheet metal and sunlight spilled in, bright and blinding against the darkness of the tunnels. A trio of burly chrome aeroChoppers sat gleaming in the sun, concealed from view by the steep walls of the small clearing.

  “Come on, Squish, you can ride with me,” Seamus said.

  “Yeah, he can ride behind you in the bitch seat!” Billy laughed harder than the joke seemed to warrant.

  “Don’t you mind Billy,” Seamus said. “He’s an imbecile but he means well.”

  This comment earned the briefest flash of hatred from Billy, quickly masked. But the look was aimed at the man, not at Seamus. Something in the man’s brain told him to file that away.

  “Hop on,” Seamus said, interrupting his thoughts.

  “Where are we going?”

  The old man laughed. “Home.”

  The aeroChoppers rose into the air with a roar. Each had six or eight rotors spinning on the ends of long, chromed arms that extended outward from the central leather seat. The electro-fuel engine sent a violent shudder through the man’s bones and thundered in his ears.

  “Welcome to Central Nebraska Waste Management, my friend!” Seamus yelled back. The man had to strain to make out the words over the din. “The dirtiest shithole in all the states. And, of course, the lovely little place that we like to call home.”

  From their elevated vantage, the man could see gargantuan trash heaps stretching away in every direction.

  “How do they bring the trash in?” he yelled.

  In reply, the graybeard pointed off to the left. Billy was flying out there beside them, about twenty feet away. But on the horizon far beyond him, a massive airship was dumping a load from several hundred feet off the ground. At this distance, the trash was nothing but a grey smudge connecting the airship to the ground.

  “That’s probably the daily Kansas City load. City’s ‘bout a half-day’s ride in that direction. Takes the airships longer, of course.”

  The flow of trash from the airship tapered, then stopped, and the ship started a slow, lumbering turn back toward whatever port it called home.

  “How often do they dump their loads?” the man asked.

  “How often? How often do half a billion people stop generating all the pathetic excesses of society? You’re a Squish. You tell me.”

  “You keep using that word. What does it mean?”

  Seamus laughed. “Squish: city folk. You got the stink of it on you worse than the trash. Don’t know what Squish means? Don’t you know nothing? That’s a fancy-ass suit to be wearing and not know nothing.”

  The man didn’t respond. What was there to say? How could he explain the empty wasteland of his mind?

  Five

  The camp appeared suddenly, sprawling out beneath them as they flew over the edge of a tall cliff, one made not of trash but of honest-to-god rock and terrain. As they descended, the man realized the camp was somewhat smaller than he’d assumed from the air, no bigger than a large football stadium. Fifty or a hundred men, women, and even a few children had set up here, a maze of semi-permanent huts, workshops, even a few livestock pens. All built from found scrap. There was a larger circular pit sunk into the ground near the center of camp, perhaps for larger livestock or work animals, though it was empty now.

  The riders set the three aeroChoppers down near what looked like a mechanical shop. Half-assembled engines were scattered about in various stages of repair next to choppers, ground vehicles, and any number of robotic chassis that littered the yard around them.

  A well with running water spilled out next to the shop to fill a rusty trough. There was an old Doberman there drinking. At the sound of their landing he looked up to snarl at the new stranger. A deep-throated, threatening growl. A few men working on an engine nearby looked up at the sound, then began to hoot at the sight of the newcomer on the back of Seamus’ chopper.

  “Fresh meat!” one of them yelled out, jumping up and down.

  “Shut your goddamn pie hole, Smith,” Seamus snapped at him. “Sorry about that,” he said to the man. “We don’t get many newcomers around here.”

  The man smirked. “I may not remember much, but something tells me I’ve been called worse in my time.”

  “Listen, I got to go take care of a few things. But Billy here will get you set up.” He turned to bark at the younger man. “Billy! Get our friend something to eat and a place to lie down.”

  Billy glowered but didn’t protest.

  “Listen, Seamus,” the man said, not particularly keen to spend more time than necessary wi
th the likes of Billy. “I really appreciate the hospitality, but you said Kansas City was the closest big city to here, right?” Seamus nodded. “Maybe if you wouldn’t mind, someone might be able to just give me a lift there? Seems more answers will be there than here, if you know what I mean.”

  “One thing at a time, lad. Don’t you worry about the city. It’ll still be there. We’ll get you fixed up first.” He clapped the man on the shoulder and walked off without waiting for a reply.

  Billy poked the man roughly in the back. “Let’s go, Squish.”

  They took a few twists and turns through the huts and ended up on the closest approximation the settlement had to a main street. There were more people here, going about the mundane business of what the man suspected must be life outside any city: work, trade, food. The only differences being that the work here seemed to be scavenging through the endless ocean of trash for objects of value; and with the exception of some rooftop gardens, the man couldn’t see where there might be any reliable food supply in a place like this. Without exception, everyone looked up as the man and Billy walked past. Exchanged whispers. Gave the man strange grins. But no one greeted him or spoke to him in any way.

  “You see that, Squish? They don’t want to talk to you. Cuz you ain’t nothing to us.”

  “Look, Billy, I don’t know why you think we got off on the wrong foot, but I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on, how I got here, who the hell I am. I’ve got no fight with you.”

  “I don’t know why you’re worrying about any of that, Squish.”

  Before the man could reply, Billy guided them into an open-walled kitchen along the street. An old toothless woman was in there grilling some sort of sausages, but as he got closer the man realized she wasn’t old at all. Maybe twenty at best, just sunbaked and wasting away for god only knew what reasons.

  “Well, what have we here?” She slurred through naked gums.

  “Sorry, Irma,” Billy said. “Got a mouth to feed for you.”

  “Whatchu apologizing for, Billy? This boy is the most interesting thing I seen in weeks.” She reached out to pinch the man’s arm, feel the material of his suit. “Nice suit, Squish. What’re you hungry for?”

  The man shrugged. “What have you got?”

  She laughed. “Best not to ask.”

  She dropped a sausage on a greasy metal plate and handed it to the man. He shuddered to think what was in it, but he knew how long it had been since he had woken, and he knew he hadn’t eaten since that time. So his body needed the fuel, no matter where it came from. He sat down at the long table and carved off a hunk of the meat.

  No sooner had he swallowed than he was doubled over, retching uncontrollably.

  Billy’s face turned bright red. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he yelled. “That’s good food. You think that’s cheap?”

  But the girl was laughing. “What’s the matter, Squish? Pretty city boy can’t handle my cooking?”

  It was several moments more before the man could speak again. “I’m sorry. Your cooking is fine. I meant no offense. I don’t know why—”

  He doubled over again to retch, though nothing came up this time. When he was done, he found the dizziness had returned. “Look, Billy. Think I could just find someplace to lie down? I think I just need some rest. Can try eating again later.”

  Billy was silent as he led the man to a small shipping container with a bare cot inside. Slits had been cut near the top for ventilation, but that was the extent of the remodel. The man stepped inside and turned to find Billy filling the doorway.

  “I know you think you’re better than me, Squish,” Billy said. “But I know something you don’t know.”

  “Oh yeah? What’s that, Billy?” the man asked wearily.

  But Billy just smiled. “Rest up. You need your strength.”

  He closed the door then, throwing the container into shadow. It was only at the sound of the bar sliding into place outside that the man realized he wouldn’t be getting out until he was let out.

  But he was tired. So tired. He lay down and closed his eyes.

  Darkness surrounded him. Somewhere far away something was flashing. Lightning? Voices floated behind him. Always behind him even when he turned. Never quite loud enough to hear.

  A silver bird flew toward him. No, not a bird. A form. Liquid metal. A silver teardrop with a pale turquoise sheen.

  A stab of pain in his gut. No, not his gut. He looked down. He had no gut. No body.

  Faces floated at him in the darkness. An old businessman. A teenage girl. A woman with cybernetic eyes. They swirled around him. Began to bleed. They opened their mouths to yell, but no sound came out.

  A flood of crimson and then he was falling. Numbers floated in front of him. Glowing in the darkness.

  39 58 02 87 31 44

  He reached for them. But he had no arm with which to reach. The numbers were retreating now. Falling away faster than he could chase them. The darkness began to shake. More flashes on the horizon. A slamming sound—

  He woke suddenly. Disoriented. He was in a small dark room with a dim splash of light spilling in through high, narrow slits.

  He remembered then. Remembered Billy. The locked door. How long had he slept?

  The room shook. There was a loud clanging sound. Then a swaying feeling. The man jumped to his feet and tried to reach the slits to look out, but they were too high and the floor now too unstable to stand on the cot.

  He banged on the door. “Hey! Hey! I’m in here!”

  No reply.

  The swaying intensified, then stopped with a sudden slam that dropped the man to his knees.

  Silence.

  Another clang. This one at the door. He pushed and it swung open. The moment he stepped out, the container was hoisted up and away behind him.

  Six

  The ground was sandy beneath his feet. The fading light of dusk bled up over the peaks of the surrounding trash heaps, refracting off the atmospheric haze enough to dimly illuminate his surroundings. He was standing in a pit some thirty feet across. Presumably the same one in the center of the camp he’d seen from the air? The rim around the pit was only silhouette and shadow. The only light besides the fading sun came from the flicker of unseen fires scattered throughout the camp.

  But he could feel the eyes on him. Could sense on some subconscious level the shuffling and breathing of spectators.

  Suddenly the pit was flooded with light. His eyes adjusted after a moment and confirmed what he’d already known in his gut: a crowd of faces, grinning in anticipation of…what?

  The crowd’s silence was even more unnerving than if they’ve been cheering, heckling, doing anything besides staring down at him with those inhuman grins. There was no sign of Seamus or Kate, but he saw Billy up there, leaning on a railing and drinking a beer with a smug look on his face.

  “Billy! What the hell is going on?”

  “I told you I knew something you didn’t know,” Billy said. The man was strangely relieved that Billy had replied at all. At least it broke the silence.

  “I told you, Billy. I’ve got no fight with you.”

  “I hope you got some fight, Squish.” Billy laughed. A few others joined in. The spell of silence seemed to slowly break as murmurs and chatter spread through the crowd.

  “Come on, Squish! Ain’t you gonna beg?” The speaker was a scrawny teenager with missing front teeth.

  “What would I be begging for?” Though the man had a growing suspicion of the answer to that question, he wanted to stall. Keep them talking. There had to be some way out of a situation that was clearly deteriorating by the moment. Where the hell was Seamus? Surely he had some sort of pull around this place.

  As though hearing his thoughts, a large, barrel-chested man stepped into view on a platform above.

  “Seamus!” the man yelled up at him. “What the hell is going on? Are you out of your mind?”

  “Welcome to our humble village, Mr. No Name,” Seamus yelled do
wn at the man. “We simply want to give you your proper welcome. It’s not every day we get visitors in these parts.”

  “Something tells me I’m not about to get a very warm welcome.”

  “Oh, on the contrary, my friend. This is the greatest gift we can offer you.” He raised his voice to yell at the surrounding crowd. “What say you all? Shall we give our friend the privilege of purification?”

  The crowd hooted and cheered in reply. The man could feel the momentum of whatever this was building beyond his control. He glanced around desperately. The wall was about ten feet high all the way around, made of roughly welded steel. If he ran and leapt he could possibly catch the rim with his hands, but then what? He would get little purchase with these damn dress shoes. And even if he did manage to crawl out, there was the crowd to contend with. Seamus seemed his only hope.

  “How can I be purified if I don’t even know who I am, Seamus? At least give me a few days to recover! Maybe regain my memories.”

  “What say you all?” Seamus yelled to the crowd. “Shall we wait?”

  The response was hardly surprising. Their objections swelled and then coalesced into the chanting of a name: Yvette.

  “Yvette!” Seamus yelled.

  A small woman stepped to the edge of a small platform overlooking the pit.

  “What’s on the menu today, my dear?” Seamus called down to her.

  The woman spread her arms with a flourish. “Today we have Hugo, Tin Pan, or Luger.”

  “We want Stompy!” someone yelled.

  Yvette made a pouty face. She was strangely attractive under the circumstances. “I’m sorry. Stompy is out of order. His little brain got fried after that display last month.”

  A chorus of boos followed. Seamus held up his hands for quiet.

  “You heard the lady,” he yelled. “What’s it gonna be? Hugo, Tin Pan, or Luger?”