Fallon’s Jewel

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

After a quick meal of steamed dumplings, Kenji opened the door to his tiny closet and lingered in front of his new suit, which hung alone on the rod. Had he bought the right color? It had looked good on him in the shop, but now he wasn’t sure. His heartbeat sped up a bit. Why did it matter so much anyway? Fallon probably couldn’t care less what he wore. Besides, Fallon was a cop in uniform. He probably wore the same thing all the time, a tight white t-shirt that strained against his beefiness and baggy olive drab pants tucked into heavy boots. There probably wasn’t much room to store clothing in those tiny space pods the ISP guys flew around in.

He sighed and lifted his suit off the hanger. The coat of purple velvet, a bit longer than usual, made him look like a figure from a royal court from ancient Earth history. The shirt came next, a light lavender with ruffled cuffs and matching neck cloth that lay down the front, hiding the shirt buttons. Then close-fitting slacks, color to match the jacket, then his ankle boots with large shiny buckles. Those had cost him more credits than he cared to admit he’d ever spent.

In the mirror, he smoothed back his hair with enough gel to keep it off his face, except for one razor-thin lock he let fall over his forehead. He put on his eye patch and then checked his entire reflection, pleased with the effect of having taken extra pains with his appearance.

He turned to the side, knee bent in a dignified pose, then exhaled and moved away from the mirror. Why was he bothering? As if somehow Fallon was more than someone he’d spend a few hours with. He’d gotten used to the fact he was alone, except for the time he spent working at Spike’s or sitting with the Matsuotos. That’s the way it was. Not by a rational choice but from something visceral, a voice inside him that yelled, ‘Alone! You must be alone!’

Not that it was terrible to be alone. Many hours of his time he spent just sitting quietly, eyes closed, the sounds of the traffic and marketplace nearby filtering through his window. He felt centered then, as if his body expanded to embrace all of existence.

Sometimes though, something was missing…something important.

One last look at his outfit and hair and he was ready.

Kenji pulled his door shut. It locked automatically with a click that echoed off the chipped plaster walls of the stairwell. As did his boot steps down the five flights of stairs. Out on the sidewalk, dusk had settled, though the marketplace was still in full swing, as most kiosks and restaurants stayed open pretty much around the clock to accommodate the swelling population of Terran City.

His building occupied the entire block on one side of the street, while the other side was taken up by the marketplace. Awnings with letters of every culture from Earth marked what was available in each stall. Vegetables crowded wagons while simulated meat formed into the shapes of animal carcasses hung in rows from the eaves of storefronts or roasted over flames; flowers exploded in blooms of colors, crowded into buckets of water; clocks crammed rickety shelves while dresses and hats, their racks stuffed beyond capacity, protruded into the narrow aisles. The air smelled of spices and baking bread from the large ovens constantly in use while music in various languages and sinuous foreign notes mixed with the shouts of sellers hawking their wares. Many of the people were directly from Earth while others came from generations of Terran A natives.

Halfway through the marketplace, Kenji stopped at a flower cart, drawn by the intoxicating scent of a ruffly pink bloom. Closing his eyes, he breathed in the aroma, an image in his mind of handing the flower to Fallon. His eyes popped open when the sound of a scream cut through the swirl of regular sounds. Jerking up from the flower, he listened, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. The screaming escalated, coming from Asia Town, just at the end of the marketplace.

Kenji’s heart flipped. The Matsuotos! He had to make sure they were okay. They weren’t so young and if something was happening, he wasn’t sure they could get away. He pushed his way in the direction of the sounds. The screams seemed to have multiplied, a chorus of terrified voices, accompanied by yelling and crashing, as if a kiosk were being destroyed.

Kenji’s breath pumped hard with the quick acceleration of his sprint. In seconds he’d reached the Matsuotos. To Kenji’s relief they were fine, both standing at the opening of their tiny restaurant, peering anxiously at the gathered crowd which hid the melee. “What’s going on?” he asked them.

The elderly man shook his head, his eyes large. “I’m not sure. The crowd assembled so quickly, I’ve not been able to see anything.”

Ignoring their cries of “Be careful,” Kenji worked his way through the press of horrified people until he reached the center. He felt sick at the sight that greeted him.

A man lay on the ground, beaten and bleeding. His screams had died down to mere whimpers, his arms covering his face from his attacker.

Kenji lifted his gaze. Tables and chairs lay toppled and smashed. A huge, brutish man stood in the space, staring down at the battered man at his feet.

“He’s looking for you,” a female voice said behind him.

Kenji turned. The woman who’d spoken stood a mere breath away, her eyes fixed on him from beneath a dark hood. “Kenji, get away from here. You’re in danger.”

“You know my name. How—”

“There’s no time to explain now. You must get away!”

He blinked, but when he opened his eye again, she was gone.

An icy shiver ripped through him. The part of him that wanted to know who she was pushed the concern away. Her message had been clear. Get away. He wanted to flee but horror kept his vision rooted to the man bleeding on the ground. Nausea vaulted upward in his gut. The brute had torn out the man’s left eye, leaving a blooding socket with—

Rage and horror mingled in a storm inside him. Why had no one stopped this brute? How could he flee and leave this poor victim to his fate? The brute lifted his boot to kick the fallen man yet again.

“Get away from him!” Kenji yelled. Anger thrummed through his temples, making him ignore the woman’s warning. He lunged forward just as the man’s thick-soled boot connected with the victim’s ribcage.

The attacker’s eyes snapped to Kenji. Black stringy hair surrounded a scarred, scowling, dirty face. His muscles bulged their way through his ripped shirt and pushed out the cross straps of magazine artillery over his chest.

A bounty hunter. A mean vicious one. Kenji recognized the type at once. Then he saw the hunter’s gaze zoom in on his eye patch.

“You!” He jabbed a thick finger straight at Kenji. “What’s behind that patch o’ yours?”

Heart pounding, Kenji took a step back. If he was expecting the people around him to surround him and protect him, he was dead already. They were receding in a collective huddle, leaving him alone in the space they’d occupied.

“Kenji, come back here.” Mr. Matsuoto materialized by his side. Kenji gently but firmly pushed him into the crowd. “Stay back, Matsuoto-san,” he ordered and turned to his assailant.

“You’re the one I want.” The bounty hunter lunged at him.

Kenji bolted. The crowd parted for him and he raced through, his breath pumping through his chest. Dipping between two stalls, the tiny alleyway brought him to the street.

“Come back here!” he heard the bounty hunter shout just as Kenji reached the corner.

He leaped off the curb, missing a giant hover bus by an inch. The vehicle’s driver slammed on the horn and a yell behind Kenji told him the bounty hunter had gotten trapped on the other side.

It bought Kenji a few seconds. He veered off into the nearest alleyway. A fire escape ladder hung down and he grabbed it, scrambling up. The soles of his boots were too slippery but the adrenalin pumping through him drove him to the roof of the building. Once he’d climbed over onto the gravel top, he peered over.

The bounty hunter skidded to a halt below. Their gazes met. The hunter leaped onto the ladder.

Kenji’s blood went icy hot. He raced across the roof, halted at the other side and looked over his shoulder. A large thick arm was reaching over. He gasped and crouched on the edge. It wasn’t too terribly far to the next roof. He took the deepest breath he could, closed his eyes briefly, then leaped.

“Huh!” The impact of landing forced the breath from him. He took a second to regain his focus then took off again. Another fire escape on the side of this building allowed him to climb down and drop only a few feet to the ground. Catching his jacket on the ladder, a loud tear accompanied his landing. Kenji could feel the air circulate through the tear down the side seam.

He took off again without a look back. Spike’s wasn’t too far away but he didn’t want the hunter to see him go inside. An idea came to him as he ran. Not stopping, he yanked off his jacket and worked open the buttons of his shirt. When both articles were off, he tossed them into an alleyway he passed. Maybe, if he was lucky, the bounty hunter would think he’d gone in that direction. A quick look over his shoulder told him he was enough ahead of the hunter not to—

Bam. Kenji ran into a something and bounced back. He blinked and the bounty hunter came into focus. His gaze met the hunter’s glittering eyes.

The giant took a step toward him, a phazer brandished toward Kenji’s chest. “Now,” he muttered, “Show me what’s behind your patch.”

From the corner of his good eye, Kenji saw another giant hover bus turn the corner. “No,” he panted, taking a step in the direction he needed to go.

The hunter lunged for him. Kenji wheeled around and leaped away, avoiding the large grasping hands by mere inches, and ran for the nearby curb. The approaching hover bus honked a warning but Kenji dove and lunged forward, missing the front of the bus by even less than he’d missed the hunter’s grasp. The bus’s blaring horn echoed in his mind, and blended with the hunter’s curses. Kenji dove down and hid behind a parked taxi. He pulled open the door and climbed in, crouching down.

“Where to?” The cab driver didn’t even look over his shoulder.

“Spike’s.”

Now the cabbie peered over the seat, brow furrowed. He was a heavy set older man with thick black brows. “What are you talkin’ ‘bout? Spike’s ain’t but two blocks from here.”

Kenji pulled out all the credits he had in his pocket. A healthy enough wad that made the cabbie’s expression change. “All of this is yours if you get me there safely.”

“Sure, pal. Whatever you say.” He turned back around and shifted gears. The cab lifted off the ground and took off. Seconds later it stopped. “Here you are.”

Kenji handed over the money, probably enough to have gotten the cab to take him to the other side of Terran A and back. But Kenji didn’t know anyone on the other side of Terran A. He only knew one other person who might be able to help him, and that one person was, he prayed, at Spike’s right now. “Do you see a huge man with stringy black hair, covered with ammunition belts?” Kenji asked, “Because if you do, I’m not getting out of this cab until he’s gone.”

The driver studied the street around them and glanced in the rearview mirror. “You got a bounty hunter on your ass?”

“I think so.”

“s**t. Sorry about that. For what you paid me, you could stay here the rest of the night. Your own private cab. But no, I don’t see no one with that description.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem, pal. Good luck. Them bounty hunters are some rough bastards.”

Don’t I know it. The image of that poor guy in Asia Town, lying on the ground, blood pouring from his face surged in Kenji’s mind as he opened the taxi door. And the way all those people stood there, frozen, letting the man get pummeled.

Kenji got out and pushed the cab door closed. He dashed into Spike’s, his heart still pounding fiercely.

Spike’s was nearly in full swing. The usual electric guitar-laden music blared through the air, mixing with rowdy male laughter, the clack of pool cues against balls and the catcalls from the audience watching the live nude show.

Kenji scanned the place, ignoring the sudden attention of many pairs of eyes on him, some curious, others openly leering at his bare torso. They probably thought the semi-naked thing indicated he was switching from bartender to hustler. His chest heaved and his hands opened and closed in panicked fists. He had to find Fallon and get into one of the cubicles as soon as possible. What if the bounty hunter came in here, looking for him?

“Hey, Kenji!” Fallon was at the bar on a corner stool, waving him over. A mug of something golden and frothy already sat on the bar in front of him. Fallon had been waiting just like he'd promised.

Relief flooded him, propelling him toward the bar. He halted less than a foot from Fallon, his chest still heaving. Images collided in his mind—the terror he’d felt, the frightening flight across rooftops and in front of giant buses, the horrifying glitter in the bounty hunter’s eyes…he stepped up to Fallon, so close, the man’s scent met his nostrils.

Fallon stood, taking hold of his arms, his blue eyes scanning him. “Kenji, where’s your shirt? I saw a report on the…nnnhh—“

Kenji surged forward, cutting Fallon’s words off with his lips.

Blimey! Fallon tried to pull back but Kenji grasped his upper arms, holding him in place with strength that belied his narrow, wiry frame. Kenji’s lips pressed insistently to his and his fingertips dug into Fallon’s triceps as if the smaller man were hanging onto him for dear life.

Oh hell. Kenji invaded Fallon’s senses. The world shrank down to the dig of Kenji’s fingers in his muscles and the velvety heat of Kenji’s lips to his. The rowdy music and catcalls cheering on their kiss faded to the background. The fervent chafing of Kenji’s lips against his told Fallon everything, as if Kenji were speaking in a language made up only of kissing. Terror, relief, passion all mingled in Kenji’s kiss. Fallon’s inner cop understood even as his body came alive with erotic heat.

Fallon understood something else. If McCray had been chasing Kenji, they needed to cut out of here. Fast.

Reality yanked Fallon from his lustful haze. He pulled back and looked into Kenji’s good eye. Kenji’s chest rose and fell as if he’d been long distance running and his one iris was dilated nearly to full capacity. This had to do with the report on Channel X. He grasped Kenji’s hand and yanked him through the crowds, amidst a tumult of whistles and catcalls from patrons believing they were heading toward the backrooms for a lay or blowjob. Fallon plowed through the walls of muscular sweating bodies, scanning for McCray among them. That damned tosser wouldn’t hesitate to open fire into a crowd.

The back of Spike’s came into view. The rear entrance with its red exit light above marked Fallon’s goal. Reaching the back, he pushed it open and he and Kenji plunged out of Spike’s into the night air. The door floated shut behind them, muting the bar’s raucous music and patrons’ rowdy jeers.

A quick scan of the dark back alley showed Fallon they were safe. For the moment. He grasped Kenji’s upper arms. “Kenji, we need to get out of here. Now. My pod is parked at headquarters. I’ve got to get you on it.”

Kenji’s stared up at him, his bare chest heaving. “You know?”

He squeezed Kenji’s arms as an affirmation. “Even if you hadn’t come in shirtless and breathless, grabbing me for dear life the way you had, yes, I knew. Channel X. His name’s McCray. He’s the most dangerous of the lot.”

Kenji nodded. “He attacked me. But not before…” He looked down again.

Fallon’s heart lurched. “Before what?”

Kenji’s shoulders trembled. “He attacked another guy. A guy who looked like me. Tore his eye right out of his skull. No one was helping him! I yelled at him to leave the poor guy alone. That’s when he went for me.”

Fallon grasped Kenji’s arms and pulled. “You’re coming with me now. Back to my pod. I’ll get you to safety.”

Kenji didn’t move.

“What is it?” Fallon narrowed his eyes at Kenji. The other man looked stricken.

“I n-need to get something—at my flat.

Fallon reined in his impatience. “We don’t have time. He’s probably already in there. Come.” He tugged Kenji in the direction of headquarters.

But Kenji stood firm. “I can’t leave without it, Fallon. My statue. We’ve got to go back for it.”

Icy heat rippled down Fallon’s arms. Was the guy barmy? “We’re not going anywhere except back to the pod. Don’t you know what these hunters are like? You want to lose your other eye? Over a bloody statue? No!”

Kenji visibly flinched, his hand going to his eye patch. “You don’t understand. I can’t leave it. Please.”

“Dammit, no. Come on.” Fallon squeezed Kenji’s hand and unholstered his phazer with the other. Pulling Kenji with him against the wall, he began to inch slowly toward the corner. Kenji moved closer and bumped into Fallon from behind. Kenji’s arm slipped from his grasp. He looked over his shoulder. “Kenji, stay close to—“

Shite! Was he seeing what he thought he saw?

Kenji was right behind him, holding up a wallet. “You lost this,” he said.

Fallon recognized that wallet. It was his. With all the credits he had to his name stuffed inside it. “Thanks.” He went to take it but Kenji yanked it out of reach. “What the—?” He reached again, and Kenji yanked again, maneuvering out of reach.

“What the hell? You little tosser! Give me that!” He lunged forward, but again, Kenji slipped just out of reach.

He backed up, step by step, the wallet outstretched, as if teasing an animal with a piece of meat. “Catch me, and you’ll get it back,” Kenji said, then wheeled around and disappeared into the night.