Transformation Space - Marianne de Pierres [20]
‘Can’t believe we’re still fuckin’ alive, Capo,’ said Catchut, weakly. ‘Any chance we could find some boots somewhere?’ His feet were blistered and bleeding from the rock climb.
‘Sure thing. Plenty of bodies. Could have you dressed like an aristo, Cat. What you say?’
‘Never said no to a dead man’s clothes, Capo. He got no use for them.’
Randall gave a screwy grin. ‘Life’s been kind to us, fellas. We’d ended up in here a few weeks ago, we’d be spewing our guts up at the stink.’ She sniffed the foul air. ‘They’re mostly dried out – just a little bit of dead left now. Rest is dust.’
Jo-Jo wondered if Randall had ever felt any reverence for the dead, or whether that part got lobotomised along the way. ‘You think the Saqr are likely to come up here? There was plenty of ’em down at the port.’
‘Can’t see no sign that they’ve been back here since the first attack. They’ve eaten and left. We just need to keep real quiet until we work out what to do.’
Jo-Jo nodded. With stiff shaky movements, he got to his feet. First things first: he needed to take a piss, real bad. ‘Where can I wash?’
‘Up the stairs, next floor, other end. Few bags of bones along the way.’
Jo-Jo followed her directions to the bathroom, stepping over several robed bodies showing signs of mummification. Randall was right – a few weeks ago the stench would have been unbearable. As it was, Jo-Jo still wanted to heave up his newly ingested stale dough.
He relieved himself, sparing a moment to wonder whether being suspended in Extro goo had any lasting repercussions for his body. So far everything seemed to be working as usual, although he hadn’t had a crap since leaving Insignia, and that couldn’t be a good thing. The Medium had nourished them during travel, but how well, and with what consequences, he couldn’t tell.
He stripped off his clothes and activated the water flow in the handbasin. Then he washed as much of himself as he could fit under the spray. Not bothering to dry, he took clothing from one of the bodies outside in the corridor, and was tying the waist cord on the robe when Randall and Catchut joined him.
‘A pretty fit, if it was made for a scarecrow,’ said Randall.
Jo-Jo stepped back into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. His face was so gaunt underneath his beard that he barely recognised himself.
They were all bone-thin, and paler than a living person should be. He stuck his chin out. ‘You could do with change of clothes yourself. I’m gonna look around.’
‘Just make sure you don’t set off any alarms. Don’t want something pinging down the port to the Saqr.’
He nodded. ‘Where will you be?’
‘We’ll get cleaned up and meet you in the kitchen on the third floor. There’s some dried food left in the cupboards.’
Jo-Jo searched the first two levels before fatigue ambushed him again. The lifts weren’t working, and he took care not to turn on any lights. That meant stumbling into overturned furniture, and having to feel his way through offices. The absence of bodies other than the ones in the corridor outside the bathroom made him curious. Had everyone evacuated before the Saqr came?
He made his way to the third-floor kitchen and found Randall cooking up a pot of pasta.
Jo-Jo stared at her with mild surprise. ‘You can cook?’
‘As needs,’ she said tersely, ‘and don’t get used to it. I’m powerful hungry; feels like I haven’t eaten in a year.’
Jo-Jo was feeling the same. Now that he’d moved around a bit, hunger gnawed like a bitch.
Randall strained the pasta and dumped it onto three disposable plates. ‘One thing you can say about these Latinos: they know how to stock a storeroom with food. Every building has a dining hall. Guess there’s no running out for quick food in this stinkin’ climate.’
Jo-Jo sat himself down at the table next to Catchut. Randall had bandaged and braced his ankle, and they both looked cleaner.
‘No dead down below, other than the