“Switch off your sensory filter,” Veronika said.
“Do I have to?” Lycan said as he switched it off. “Oh.” He folded his arms, took in the Macy’s, nodding. “Now I see why you drove us almost an hour away from the city. You wanted to go shopping.”
“Very funny.” The building didn’t look safe, so Veronika headed around the side, skirting the ruins. Her system informed her it was the Mohawk Commons Shopping Center, constructed in 1998, finally abandoned in 2066. Some of the signs on the stores were intact: Foxy Friends, The Soft Parade, Marathon Games.
It grew difficult to find a path through the trash and debris.
“You haven’t told me why we’re doing this yet,” Lycan said from behind.
“Relative deprivation. By coming to the outer suburbs, we become more grateful for the lives we have. Basic psychology.” Actually, she’d just come up with that. The original idea had been sketchier.
“People,” Lycan said.
Veronika looked around, spotted four people coming out of a store called Fashion Xpress.
“Why don’t we get out of here?” Lycan said.
“We can’t run,” Veronika said, with more certainty than she felt. “They’re just people.” People heading right toward them; not running exactly, but moving with purpose.
It was a mix of men and women, all adults, thin the way people who eat little but Superfood are, and in need of a bath. Veronika had seen plenty of movies, TV shows, and interactives set in the outer burbs and beyond, but she’d never been out here before, alone, in the presence of locals. Her heart was pounding, although none of them was carrying so much as a stick.
“What are you doing here?” a woman with bleached-blond hair said as she approached.
“Just…” Veronika couldn’t think of a sane response. She felt incredibly overdressed, absurdly clean and shiny standing there amid slabs of concrete, rotting fabric, discarded fast-food containers.
“My family used to live near here,” Lycan said. He pointed. “Over that way, about a mile. I wanted to see it again.”
“Which street?” an old guy with thick white sideburns asked.
The slightest delay, a surprisingly deft flourish of Lycan’s fingers told Veronika he was calling up a map. “Barnhart Place.”
The old man squinted one eye, pointed in the direction Lycan had been pointing. “It’s off of Grady Street, about half a mile down on the right.”
Lycan studied the road in the distance as if it was vaguely familiar. “That helps. Thank you.”
“You have any cash you can spare?” the blond woman asked.
Veronika tapped her system. “Oh, sure. Give me your account link.” Then she froze, realizing what a stupid thing that was to say.
“No, cash,” the woman said. “Do you have any cash?”
Out here, there was still a distinction. She looked at Lycan, who shook his head.
“I’m sorry, we don’t,” Lycan said.
Veronika tried to think of anything of value she had, beyond her clothes. There was nothing, and nothing back in the rental.
“Oh, come on,” a younger man said, stepping around to their left, between them and their rental. “You’re telling me you have twelve-hundred-dollar boots, but you don’t have twenty dollars on you?”
Lycan stepped between Veronika and the man. “We don’t. We almost never carry cash.”
“That’s bullshit—”
The old guy cut him off. “Trent, that’s enough. Let it go.”
“You let it go,” Trent said.
Veronika hit Emergency on her system.
A police officer in a screen materialized almost instantaneously. “What’s the problem?” he asked, doing a three-sixty.
“You called the police?” the blond woman said. “We didn’t do anything to you but offer directions.”
“He was acting in a threatening manner, because we don’t have any cash to give them.” Veronika pointed at Trent.
“Oh, bullshit,” Trent said.
“What are you doing out here?” the police officer asked Veronika.
Veronika sputtered, then remembered Lycan’s cover story. She pointed at him. “He used to live near here. We were looking for his house.”
The police officer took this in without a word. “All right. All of you”—he gestured toward the locals—“leave the vicinity immediately.” He rotated to face Veronika and Lycan. “You two—”
“This vicinity is where we live,” the old guy interrupted.
“Where are you, in Yonkers?” Trent added. “What are you gonna do, fine us?”
“What I’m going to do,” the officer said, clearly losing patience, “is tag you with a zombie, send a drone to bring you in, and throw your ass in jail.” He turned back toward Veronika and Lycan. “You two get in your vehicle, and go home.”
“Yes sir. Thank you,” Lycan said. They stepped past Trent and hurried toward the car as the officer stayed with the locals.
“You have some nerve,” the blond woman called after them. “We were nothing but kind to you.”
Veronika felt like complete shit. “I panicked. I shouldn’t have called the police.”
“It was a tough call,” Lycan said. “I have to admit, I was nervous.”
“I feel terrible, though. That woman was right. Beside Trent’s little hissy fit, they were being nothing but kind.”
“Why don’t we get going?” Lycan suggested.
Veronika nodded, started the car, and pulled out. “What if I sent my drone out here tomorrow with some cash for them? Do you think that would be okay?”
“I think that’s a great idea,” Lycan said.
25
Rob
Rob felt as if the shoulder of Route 304 were listing side to side as he staggered along. He was so tired. All he wanted was to sleep.
No. He was hungrier than he was tired. In fact he wasn’t sure he could make it all the way home without something to eat. Which meant stopping at the tubes.
He was so tired of this life. Not that it was a life, really. Tired of this existence. At the end of each shift, the voice in the back of his head got louder; early on he’d been able to ignore it, but now it was deafening.
Quit. Run away. Start over where no one knows you, where no one knows what you did.
He could move to Philly, or Pittsburgh, start a new life. What Winter was asking of him was too much. Did she even know how much it cost to visit her? Too much; it was just too much.
Leave in the morning. Philly.
He thought about Winter, who would wonder what happened to him when she was waked for a date. She’d know he let her down. Without his visits, she’d probably be kicked out of the program even more quickly.
In the distance he could see the turnoff for the tubes. He was so hungry. Superfood wasn’t going to do it—he needed fat, something dripping with grease, like burgers or biscuits. Of course that would take money. Rob checked his account on the handheld. He stopped in his tracks.
There was an extra nine thousand dollars in his account.
He brought up the transaction, checked the routing, found nothing but a simple notation:
“Anonymous.”
Chuckling to himself in an exhausted, slightly delirious way that might make a passerby think he was unhinged, Rob resumed walking. Who the hell would give him that kind of money, and do it anonymously? That the amount was exactly what it cost to visit Winter made his benefactor’s intentions clear. Nathan and Veronika had been open about helping, but he doubted they had that kind of money to give away in any case, so it probably wasn’t them. For most of his longtime friends, nine thousand was two or three months’ pay. Sunali? Rob mulled that one. Possibly. Bridesicles were her passion, so it wasn’t inconceivable, especially given Lorelei’s role in this whole mess. In case it was Sunali, Rob would have to start thinking nicer thoughts about her.