Doctor Who_ Cat's Cradle_ Warhead - Andrew Cartmel [76]
He hunted through the bargain bins at the front of the store. It was all cheap Korean stuff. He didn’t find anything. He never did, but it was part of the ritual, delaying the pleasure. Finally, when he couldn’t wait any more, he walked to the back of the store and went straight to the top twenty rack and pulled it down. They must have had a hundred copies of it. The new Cthulhu Gate strategy software. Not just a supplement or new scenario but a special AI plug‐on. You just installed the strategy module in your games folder with all your other Gate software and the next time you played it woke up and started working. Vincent had the twenty dollars his mother had given him plus another ten which was the remains of last week’s allowance plus money he’d saved by skipping school lunches.
The strategy module cost $24.95. The box went into the bag with his schoolbooks and then Vincent went into McCray’s for a Pepsi and a bag of munchies. That took care of his remaining five dollars and change.
It was only after he’d spent his last cent that he saw it.
It was on the magazine rack rather than among the comics. Vincent later worked out that this was the reason it was still there. If it had been in its proper place someone would have found it and bought it weeks ago. But there it was, among the wrestling and weaponry magazines. A copy of Talons number one. Talons was the official Cthulhu Gate tie‐in comic from Caliber. It was written and drawn by the Gilbert sisters and it was the hottest new comic of the year. Despite an initial print run of half a million it had sold out everywhere, literally within minutes. And everybody who was lucky enough to score the comic was holding on to it, waiting for the soaring collectors’ prices to level out before they sold. Even Calvin Palmer, with all his parents’ money, hadn’t been able to pry a copy loose.
Vincent didn’t have a copy. He didn’t know anybody who had a copy. And here it was, red and silver cover shining between Indonesian Mercenary and Heavy Metal.
He picked it up. It was in mint condition. The price on the cover was $5.95.
In his pocket he had two quarters and a nickel.
Vincent pedalled home as fast as he could and as soon as he got home he started knocking on doors. Most of his neighbours had kids of their own and didn’t want to pay anybody for yard chores. But Mrs Kielowski at number thirty‐seven was a widow and childless and needed her swimming pool cleaned. Two hours of sweat and chlorine sting with autumn leaves falling around his head and Vincent had earned five dollars. He found another forty cents down the back of the couch in his mother’s rec room. McCray’s drugstore closed at nine. Vincent got there at seven forty‐five.
The mall was empty, one last car pulling away from the Seven Eleven. Smartt Software was closed. The streets were dark, solid autumn darkness promising winter despite the hot winds. Vincent thought he was pedalling his bike as fast as he could but as he passed the ruins of the old municipal library he found himself going even faster. The parking lot lights of the building gleamed on poles, casting long shadows of the old iron railings across the road. Vincent shivered as he signalled to turn left into the mall.
When he got into McCray’s drugstore the copy of Talons number one was gone.
He’d hidden the comic behind a stack of gun magazines where no one else would spot it. All the gun magazines were gone. He asked the guy working in the pharmacy section and he directed Vincent to a woman working on a computer in the stockroom. The woman told him that the gun magazines were out of date. They’d been returned to the distributor. The next issue would be in on Monday – as if Vincent gave a damn about Small Arms Collector.