Science Fiction and Fantasy
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"Agent Wachalowski?"
"Who are you, and what are you doing here?"
I scanned into the soft tissue of his face and saw some bioelectronics fitted behind the eyes. He was here gathering footage. I was being recorded.
"I hear you've got some revivors upstairs," he said.
"Be careful what you admit to," I said, moving past him. "There's only one way you could have heard that."
As I pushed past, he followed, keeping pace with me.
"Come on, you can give me something, can't you?"
"Sorry, I can't," I said, "and listening in on even unsecured communications like that is a felony; you know that. The SWAT guys are on their way down, and if they find you here, you're going to be arrested."
There's a reporter down here looking for footage. Clear him out before you bring the revivors down.
Roger that.
"It's already out," he said. "You can't keep it a secret. Just give me fifteen seconds' worth."
"Technically, if you're not outside, you're supposed to inform anyone you talk to if you're going to record them," I said, "Like you're doing right now. If you want, I can slap an injunction on you, and the techs can take a crawl through everything you've got sitting in your buffers. How does that sound?"
That seemed to hit home, and he stayed behind as I headed across the parking lot toward my car. When I got in, I could see him still standing there like he wasn't sure whether or not he should chance going back. In the rearview mirror I saw him watching me, probably still recording as I pulled out and drove away.
With the scene behind me, I took a deep breath. I realized my heart was pounding and I tried to slow it down. I couldn't get the image of that girl revivor's face out of my head.
The first time I ever saw a revivor's face, it was dark out and hotter than hell. The revivor was a male, and when it came staggering up out of the wet grass, I knew for a fact that the man was dead because I was the one who had killed him.
The last time I'd seen one out in the grinder, I was being airlifted away in a helicopter, with a tube down my throat. It came lurching out of the brush, wet eyes staring right at me as we began to rise. Its teeth, stained bright red, were showing, and there was a terrible want on that waxy face that remained even as the gunner turned on it and made it dance.
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