Working Stiff (Revivalist 1)

By the time they’d switched out of the Pharmadene van to another car, her fingers were starting to look human again. Sickly and bruised, but living.

She was so grateful that it was hard not to sob again, but she couldn‘t. Not now. Not when Pansy and Joe had risked so much, and they were all still in danger.

Joe Fideli had all kinds of unexpectedly criminal talents; he could boost cars (a cargo van from a rental-car lot, taken from the “fixed” part of the repair area, which would cause the most confusion and delay), he could circumvent alarm systems (like the one at the veterinary clinic, where he took surgical supplies and animal tranquilizers), and most important, he had an RFID scanner and blank credit cards.

He sent Pansy for a walk at the Westfield Horton mall with the scanner tucked into her small clutch purse, and taught her the fine art of butt scanning. “Men are the easiest,” he said, as Bryn rested in the passenger seat of the newly stolen van, downing bottle after bottle of water from a twelve-pack he’d taken from the vet’s. “Credit cards are in their back pockets. Just brush the scanner up against them and listen for the tone in the earpiece. A good scan will chime. Get as many as you can in fifteen minutes; then meet us back here. ”

Pansy hesitated, looking at the two of them. “You’re sure? You don’t need me to help with this?”

“It’s not going to be pretty. Better leave it to me,” Joe said. “Go on. Get us some money; we need it. ”

Pansy went out the back, and Joe watched as she walked across the parking lot and entered the multilevel jumble of the mall. “Bryn? You ready?”

“I guess. ” She finished the bottle and set it aside. She felt better. Stronger. Almost herself again. “Where do you want me?”

“Here. ” He flipped levers and laid down one of the rear seats, creating a long, flat space. She climbed over and sat on it. “Lie down. ”

Bryn complied, trying not to wince, and looked into his eyes as he bent closer. “How bad’s it going to be?”

“Nothing like what you’ve already had,” he said. “How’s the throat?”

She cleared it experimentally. “Not too bad. I sound like a whiskey bum, though. ”

“It’s a little bit sexy. All right, I’m going to give you a shot. I’m not sure how long it’ll last; from what Pat said, painkillers wear off quicker than normal, since the nanites clear them from your bloodstream, but we’ll give it a try. I’ll work fast. ”

She nodded and tried not to think about it much. The shot was familiar by now, a bright pinpoint of pain, then a flood of warmth that quickly sank into a blissful warm numbness. “Oh,” she murmured. “Nice. ” Then she couldn’t talk at all.

“Yeah, I gave you an elephant load,” he said. “Here we go. ”

He lifted her right knee up. She felt it distantly, like something in a dream, and then he rolled her over on her side. That felt good, too. She smiled and tried to tell him how it felt but her lips wouldn’t make words, just bright bubbles of sounds.

His knife cut a slash in the back of her thigh.

Bryn made a wordless sound of surprise, betrayal, and pain; even with the numbness and happy, drugged warmth, she felt the invasion, and kept feeling it as the knife cut deeper, separating muscle, digging, probing. She tried to wiggle away from it. Joe’s hand clamped down hard, holding her in place. “Steady,” he said. He sounded weirdly out of tune. “Almost there. It’s in deep, and I’m going to have to pry it off the bone. ” She felt another small, bright star of a shot. Another cascade of warmth. This time, it didn’t crest quite as high, and it receded much faster, leaving her cold and horribly aware that the knife was in her, moving, prying. She whimpered and panted and tried not to scream, and then something happened with a white-hot stab of pure agony and she screamed into Joe’s muffling hand and couldn’t stop until it began to subside.

“Good,” he said. His voice was low and soothing. “You did good, Bryn. It’s out. The wound’s already closing. Relax now; relax. ”

She kept on shuddering and whimpering, and a heavy warmth dropped over her—a blanket, smelling of cigars and wet dog. She didn’t care what it smelled like. Anything helped.

Pansy came back about ten minutes later. She froze, silhouetted in the opening for a second, then climbed in and slammed the door fast. “God, it looks like a slaughterhouse in here,” she said. “Is she all right?”

“She will be. Here. ” Joe handed her something wrapped in a piece of tissue. “Take that; throw it in the back of a truck that?

?s getting ready to pull out. Go. ”

She handed him her purse and bailed out again without any questions. Joe took the scanner out and looked at the stored results.

“Hey,” Bryn whispered. “Did it work?”

“The scanner? Yeah. I’ve got six cards I can work with here. It’ll get us what we need. ”

“Can’t they trace them?”

“Sure. But we don’t use them. We make the clones and sell them on, and use the cash we get paid for it. That’s untraceable. ” He glanced back at her. “You doing all right?”

“Yeah. ” She swallowed and tried not to think about the mess of her leg. “It still hurts. ”

“No doubt. I had to take out a pretty good chunk of bone. It’ll heal, but it’ll hurt while it does. Best thing for you to do is stay horizontal. ” He uncapped another bottle of water and handed it to her, and helped her sit up to sip. She almost threw it back up, but the nausea passed quickly.