Spares - Michael Marshall Smith [61]
“I’m still going to kill you,” I told him, then jumped through the wall and tumbled into the crowd beyond. None of the dancers seemed to be aware of what was happening, the gunfire inaudible beneath the pounding noise and flickering lyrics. I pushed my way out through the crowd, and when I emerged panting into the street I turned for the elevators and ran.
“Hey—what the hell happened to you?”
I shouldered my way past Nearly and into her apartment. It was dark—lit only by warm strip lighting down at floor level—and neat, cozy, personal. Presumably she didn’t do business here, though a few items dotted around the apartment—the TV, some of the furniture, a rearWindow on the back wall—hinted that she did good business somewhere. Suej was sitting in the middle of the floor, a mug of coffee in front of her. She jumped on seeing me, face aghast.
“What?” I said, and then looked down and realized someone’s blood was spread liberally all over my clothes. “It’s not mine,” I said, putting my arms around Suej, and holding her tight.
When we disengaged I turned to see Nearly holding a mug out to me. “We don’t have time,” I said.
“Sure you do,” she replied, thrusting it into my hands and letting go. I kept hold of it—barely. “You’re not going anywhere now. Just sit down and be quiet.”
Without really knowing how, I found myself in a chair. My entire body ached in a nonspecific way. Rapt crash. My head hurt in several very specific places. But we needed to be moving on. To where, I didn’t know.
Nearly seemed to read my mind. “Where you going to go, big guy? Howie’s okay—we gave him a call. But his place is going to be too hot for a while.”
“We’re putting you at risk by being here,” I said. “I’m not prepared to do that. I don’t even know you.”
“That’s sweet of you and don’t think I don’t appreciate it but I think you’re kind of tired right now and working out what to do next is going to be a high mountain to climb.”
I stared at her, something that she’d said striking a chord.
“While I remember,” Nearly continued apologetically, “Howie asked what he should do with the box. Did you want it kept or anything? Because otherwise it’s kind of gross.”
“What was in the box?” Suej asked. I took one look at her and knew I couldn’t lie.
“Part of Nanune,” I said. “I’m sorry, Suej.”
Her eyes glazed, and then she nodded. “A big part?”
“Big enough,” I said, and then—horrifically—had to stifle a yawn. Suej didn’t seem to notice. My head was feeling strange. Sour adrenaline, I guessed.
“Do you know where David is?” Suej asked, looking at the carpet.
“No,” I said. “But I know who’s got him, and the others.”
“Is he from Safety Net?”
“I don’t know where he’s from,” I said heavily, though I felt I should. Something was still tugging at my mind. It pisses me off, when it does that. I wish it would just come out and speak its piece rather than pussyfooting around in the shadows. Probably the result of too much drugs, too often, for far too long. Kids, don’t live like this at home. I yawned again and realized—something was wrong, I looked down into my mug: My sight was blurring, but I could see that I’d finished the coffee.
“What have you done tome?” I asked querulously.
“Nothing bad, and it wasn’t just my idea,” Nearly said. “Just a sedative.”
“You’re with them,” I said thickly, voice slurring. The walls seemed to be sliding down into the floor.
“I’m not with anyone,” she said, standing and carrying a blanket over to me. “What you see is what you get. Now get some sleep. Your mommies will look after you.”
The last things I saw were Suej sitting on the floor next to me, whispering tunnel talk; and Nearly’s face a little farther away, clear skin and big eyes framed by dark chestnut hair.
“She’s beautiful,” I thought foggily. “Pity she’s killed me.” The thought seemed somehow consistent with life in general.
I woke up shaking violently, but it didn’t last too long. Ten minutes and a cup of coffee scavenged from Nearly’s immaculate kitchen saw me through to the end of it. In a way it was kind of a nostalgic experience, though I wouldn