Moxyland - Lauren Beukes [75]
'At least let me upload my video,' says Toby.
'Forget it, china. They're not tracing that shit back to me.'
'Can I use your bathroom?' I sway slightly when I stand up, or rather the world does, taking an unnerving dip that forces me to blink, hard, to get it to realign. The lights are way too bright, flattening out everything into planes of colour. Or maybe it's just me.
'No. No ways.'
'I have to pee.'
'You'll just have to wait.'
'Dude.' Toby chips in, reproachful.
'Is it through here?'
'No, you can't. You have to leave. Right now.'
'Or I could pee on your rug.'
I push open the door into a dingy room overloaded with consoles and projectas playing unique content on every wall. Games, I think, and a vid chat sesh going, with dozens of little faces squawking at each other. I pick my way over empty boxes of instant tofu meals bleeding what I can only hope is miso into the carpet, and stagger into the bathroom.
There's no lock, or at least, no key, so I shove the laundry bin against the door. I wash my face without looking at it, avoiding my eyes in the mirror. My mouth is fucking sore. The bastard split my lip, where the edge of the baton caught me.
I shrug off my dress, step into the bath and turn on the shower full blast without waiting for the temperature to adjust. The pressure is stinging and the cold comes so brutal, it snaps something in my chest, but I refuse to cry. Not here. I lean my head against my arms and let the water surge over me until it turns hot.
'Hey, K. You okay?' Toby raps on the door.
'Is she coming out?'
'Yeah, she's coming out. Just relax.'
'I didn't say she could use the shower, man.' The door shifts but jams against the laundry bin. 'Just chuck her out. Shit.'
'I'll pay for the fucking water,' I shout. There's no shampoo, not surprising for a bald guy, so I use the sludgy bar of green anti-bacterial soap on my hair. I scoop the dress from the floor and try to deal with the stain. The bile and blood are too thoroughly bonded with it, though, and there is a faintly chemical odour too, reminding me of the overwhelming hysteria that came over me at the station, when the dogs surged forward. I couldn't help it. I had to go with them. I scrub and scrub at the stain, but all I'm doing is rubbing it in.
I dry off with a musty blue towel, the only one I can find. Scratching around in the hamper, I find a green t-shirt that isn't too stained. I wring out the dress and roll it down around my hips, tucking in the wet spots as best as I can, and pull the tee over it. It has a decal that says Ecco-5, which I think is a game. Or maybe a band. I avoid the mirror.
'Finally!' says jittery bald guy as I slide open the door. He pauses; the gears in his brain pop and grind. 'Hey, that's my shirt.'
'Are we going to get out of here?'
'I dunno.' Toby is suddenly nervous. 'Maybe it's not a good idea. After, well.'
'Hey. You absolutely cannot stay here. I am not kidding.'
'I mean, have you thought about it?' Toby asks.
'What?'
He laughs, but it's forced. 'Whether we should go or not. Or wait. To see, you know?'
'No, bullshit! You guys need to get to one of those vaccine places soon as.'
'Oh, I'm sorry, are we in your way, Unathi?'
'This isn't my problem, Tobias. You shouldn't have come here.'
'You were the one who hooked me up with the fucking mission! It's exactly your problem.'
Their fighting is making the pain in my head worse. It's like a flash-bulb popping, like the veins in my temples are threads of filament burning out.
'Do you have any Ghost?' The questions shuts them both up.
Baldy – Unathi – whatever, smirks. 'There's a spaza. On the corner. On the way out.'
The kid with the bad hair – I still don't know his name – tramps sulkily after us through two sets of security