yourself."
She nodded mutely. Her mind raced as the car scooted into traffic, searched for a stopped, available bus, then slotted into place behind a pair of identiical cars attached to the segmented frame. Through the tinted bubble windows she could see passengers in the shared interior of the bus, which was devoted to overflow passengers, people waiting to board one of the other detachable cars as their destinations appproached.
He wasn't going to kill her, she reasoned. Not yet. He needed her alive. At least for a while. But that didn't mean he couldn't hurt her — cripple her if he thought she was planning to run. That must be what he was worried about. Nadice taking off, cuttting him loose and selling the ware to the highest black-market bidder. He was protecting his investment, nothing more. It wasn't personal, it was business.
The bus rocked from side to side. It slithered like a caterpillar through LED-lighted intersections, past apoplectic neon signs that smeared her retinas with blues, reds, yellows, and greens.
Nadice clutched her stomach. "I think I'm going to be sick."
"Sure you are."
She retched, splashing the seat and floor of car.
Mateus jerked to his feet. "Sumbitch ... !" He swore, and the door to the inside of the bus hissed open.
Bile burned her nose. Her eyes watered under the warm, sour smell of undigested chicken and rice.
He grabbed her by one wrist and half dragged, half flung her from the car into the center section. She hit somebody in the back, a teenage kid, felt the air go out of him and Mateus's handcuff-firm hold on her relax. She slipped free and found herself on her knees, feet all around her, dancing to get out of the way. A sharp heel gouged the side of her thumb, tearing skin. She tucked in her fingers and crawled. N-zymes kept the rubberized floor relatively clean, but someone spilled tea on her back. She flung herself to the side, into a shuffle of plastic sandals and rubber-soled shoes. She elbowed shins and knees to avoid being trampled, flailed at the tail of an anklelength coat that billowed against her face.
" ... fuck outta my way!" Mateus said, not far beehind her.
"Bite me, asswipe."
Nadice raised herself onto her hands and knees.
Just across the aisle, the door to a six-person car opened. Nadice twisted her head. Over her shoulder, less than two meters away, she picked out Mateus's vomit-stained boots.
Blood hammered inside her chest. She lunged into the car. "Excuse me ... Sorry."
'... got you ... "
Hands reached down, catching her, pulling her in, away from the door sliding shut on Mateus's stunned, livid face.
" ... okay?" a man asked.
Nadice nodded numbly, and his face retreated. The passengers were part of some Renaissance cast. Their complexions reminded her of candle-lit wax, luminous in places and brooding in others, smudged with shadows. The women wore white pleated blouses with blue skirts, the men black vests and bunched brown pants.
"Here." An older woman offered her a plain vetiver-scented handkerchief edged with lace.
"Thank you."
Nadice daubed the handkerchief to her mouth and watched Mateus's face recede as' the car detached from the bus and turned onto a side street.
_______
She couldn't go back to the shelter. The crunkheads would be waiting. Still, her shoes and jacket were there. She couldn't spend the night barefoot, with no way to keep warm.
Nadice watched the building from the old shoppping center across the intersection, hidden in the doorway to a Honey B's hair salon.
What now? Another shelter was out of the quesstion. If Mateus had found her at this one, how hard would it be to hunt her down at another?
Her bare feet were cold. She stamped them on the rough concrete, then leaned against the honeybee apliques decorating the boutique's plate diamond window. Her thoughts drifted to the ware she carried.
What would it do to her if she didn't get rid of it when she was supposed to and it stayed in her system too long? Would it
She nodded mutely. Her mind raced as the car scooted into traffic, searched for a stopped, available bus, then slotted into place behind a pair of identiical cars attached to the segmented frame. Through the tinted bubble windows she could see passengers in the shared interior of the bus, which was devoted to overflow passengers, people waiting to board one of the other detachable cars as their destinations appproached.
He wasn't going to kill her, she reasoned. Not yet. He needed her alive. At least for a while. But that didn't mean he couldn't hurt her — cripple her if he thought she was planning to run. That must be what he was worried about. Nadice taking off, cuttting him loose and selling the ware to the highest black-market bidder. He was protecting his investment, nothing more. It wasn't personal, it was business.
The bus rocked from side to side. It slithered like a caterpillar through LED-lighted intersections, past apoplectic neon signs that smeared her retinas with blues, reds, yellows, and greens.
Nadice clutched her stomach. "I think I'm going to be sick."
"Sure you are."
She retched, splashing the seat and floor of car.
Mateus jerked to his feet. "Sumbitch ... !" He swore, and the door to the inside of the bus hissed open.
Bile burned her nose. Her eyes watered under the warm, sour smell of undigested chicken and rice.
He grabbed her by one wrist and half dragged, half flung her from the car into the center section. She hit somebody in the back, a teenage kid, felt the air go out of him and Mateus's handcuff-firm hold on her relax. She slipped free and found herself on her knees, feet all around her, dancing to get out of the way. A sharp heel gouged the side of her thumb, tearing skin. She tucked in her fingers and crawled. N-zymes kept the rubberized floor relatively clean, but someone spilled tea on her back. She flung herself to the side, into a shuffle of plastic sandals and rubber-soled shoes. She elbowed shins and knees to avoid being trampled, flailed at the tail of an anklelength coat that billowed against her face.
" ... fuck outta my way!" Mateus said, not far beehind her.
"Bite me, asswipe."
Nadice raised herself onto her hands and knees.
Just across the aisle, the door to a six-person car opened. Nadice twisted her head. Over her shoulder, less than two meters away, she picked out Mateus's vomit-stained boots.
Blood hammered inside her chest. She lunged into the car. "Excuse me ... Sorry."
'... got you ... "
Hands reached down, catching her, pulling her in, away from the door sliding shut on Mateus's stunned, livid face.
" ... okay?" a man asked.
Nadice nodded numbly, and his face retreated. The passengers were part of some Renaissance cast. Their complexions reminded her of candle-lit wax, luminous in places and brooding in others, smudged with shadows. The women wore white pleated blouses with blue skirts, the men black vests and bunched brown pants.
"Here." An older woman offered her a plain vetiver-scented handkerchief edged with lace.
"Thank you."
Nadice daubed the handkerchief to her mouth and watched Mateus's face recede as' the car detached from the bus and turned onto a side street.
_______
She couldn't go back to the shelter. The crunkheads would be waiting. Still, her shoes and jacket were there. She couldn't spend the night barefoot, with no way to keep warm.
Nadice watched the building from the old shoppping center across the intersection, hidden in the doorway to a Honey B's hair salon.
What now? Another shelter was out of the quesstion. If Mateus had found her at this one, how hard would it be to hunt her down at another?
Her bare feet were cold. She stamped them on the rough concrete, then leaned against the honeybee apliques decorating the boutique's plate diamond window. Her thoughts drifted to the ware she carried.
What would it do to her if she didn't get rid of it when she was supposed to and it stayed in her system too long? Would it
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