Alt Ctrl

Chapter One

Taking a huge breath, I tried to take in all the Smoke left in the bag.  There wasn’t much, and it would be a while till my next fix, so I had to make sure I got all I could get from this hit.

Pulling the sulfur-tasting fumes into my lungs reminded me of the old-fashion descriptions of hell.  Fire, brimstone, and demons, all that stuff.  I remember hearing the ravings of the old lady that lived down the street from us.  She’d see Costia and me in the alley, huffing Smoke or making out, and she’d start spewing off Revelations and shit like the, sounding as if she’d swallowed the Bible. 

I think the one she yelled at us the most was “Now the works of the flesh are manifest: fornication, uncleanness, idolatry, drunkenness, reveling; I forewarn you that those who practice such things shall not inherit the kingdom of God.”  That one always stuck in my mind for some reason.  Of course, at the time, we’d either ignore her or tell the old bitch to fuck off, but now days, I wonder if I should have taken her warnings more serious.  Not like it would have stopped things.  No, by then, things were too far gone to even consider stopping them.

Realizing that it hurt too much to think of Costia any more, I threw down the bag and started to move on.  Staying in one place too long was a bad idea. 

Moving through the deserted house, I began to realize something very bad.  It was quiet.  Too quiet.  That usually meant one of two things – the clepol had either just left or was about to move in.  I’d been here over an hour, so I knew they hadn’t just left.  That left me about five minutes to get to my stuff and secure my fuveil.  By my bets, they’d be spraying halcyon – they’d want to take hostages in this division since it was a supposed to be abandoned.  I could almost hear the manigu starting to play.

Stumbling towards the door of the bathroom, I fumbled with the door.  The Smoke was hitting me hard, and it’s always difficult to function in its first stages.  In ten minutes, I’d be able to function again, but I didn’t have the time to wait.  I had to get to my stuff now.

Gripping the walls of the hall, I managed to make it to the living room with no problems.  My bag was easy to find, especially after I tripped over it while walking to the couch.  Grappling with the fastenings, I started pulling things out of it at random.  Throwing food and clothes all over the room, I dug deeper and deeper, but I simply couldn’t find my fuveil.  Where the hell was it?

My mind was clouded by the Smoke. I couldn’t remember what I’d done with my fuveil.  I couldn’t even remember taking it out of the bag.  Glancing around the room, I began to worry perhaps I’d buried it under the things I’d hastily discarded from my bag.  As I was looking, I notice the silence start to lift, and a nauseating music began to creep through the walls – the clepol were getting closer.

“You’ve got to keep your fuveil clean, Alya,” I heard Costia say.  “How many fucking times to I have to tell you that.  If you don’t keep it clean, it won’t work.  I paid good lucr for these damn things, and I won’t have you breaking them.”

Raising my head to stare at the chair in front of me, Costia glared disapprovingly at me.  I gasp, reaching out my hand to clutch his face.

“Costia,” I said.  “I’m sorry.  I promise I’ll take care of it.  I promise.” 

I touched his face, feeling, for a moment, the statmarc implanted under the skin of his cheek.  Then he was gone – or was he never really there?

My mind sluggishly tried to move my body.  I remember where my fuveil was now, but memories of that fight with Costia threatened to overwhelm the actions I was trying to force my body to take.  Forcing myself up off the floor and walking cautiously into the kitchen, I could recall the argument just like it was happening all over again.

It had been the first time we’d been in a bloc assigned to be culled by the clepol.  Fuveils were hard to get at the time, and the ones Costia had got for us were top of the line.  He’d never told me how he’d managed to get his hands on two top of the line, brand new fuveils, but it didn’t matter – the fact that we had them was enough, no matter the cost. 

I’d had mine in my pack since the last time we’d moved, and it, like everything else in there, was covered in dirt and grime.  When the sirens had gone off warning of the impending clepol sweep (back when there were warning sirens), my FV had been too dirty to be functional, and I succumb to the gas.  Luckily, Costia had thought ahead and kept his mask clean at all times, so he was able to restrain me and keep me from turning myself in.  But the next day, when the symptoms had passed, he was furious.

“Are you fucking stupid?” he demanded.  “How can you expect to survive if you can’t even take basic precautions for your own safety?  I might not always be around to save you, you know.”

I had just done Smoke and was still in stagun when he started ragging on me.  Maybe he knew he was infected then, but I don’t know.  None the less, I was still young and bullet-proof, unwilling to let anyone, even Costia, berate me.

“Fuck you,” I said, rolling over on the bed.  “Like you’ve never made a mistake?”

“Ya, smart-ass,” he quipped.  “I’ve made mistakes.  But not completely irresponsible ones like this.  Do you realize where you’d be right now if I wouldn’t have been here?  You’d be in a redu, like Cadoc, or worse.”

I don’t remember much after that.  I said something about him not knowing that Cadoc was really in a redu, and we fought about it some more.  Then his Smoke stagun kicked in and he calmed down.  But I do remember promising him I would keep my fuveil clean, always ready to use, and I always have.

Somehow, despite the stagun, I managed to get into the kitchen and get my mask on before the haly started being sprayed on this division of the bloc.  Even though I was moving quickly from stagun to stagdio, I couldn’t keep myself from crying.  Even as the manigu began to drown out all other thoughts in my head, I clutched my legs to my chest and sobbed for Costia.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

I’m not sure how much time pasted, but when next I could think clearly, everything was quiet again.  Not the creepy, clepol silence, but the safer, normal quiet typical to this bloc.  Slowly, I got up and worked my way back into the living room.  Working faster than usual (I was well into stagdio of Smoke now), I gathered up my belongings scattered around the room and began putting them back into my pack.  Knowing it would have driven Costia crazy to see me shoving things in pell-mell, I took care to fold things up and organize them.  It wasn’t nearly as nice and neat as he would have done, but it was the best I could do.

Everything packed, I made a final sweep of the house for anything that might be salvageable.  I’d done this about five times in the last week, but since I’d always managed to find something new and useful each time, I made one last check.  I wasn’t disappointed.  A big, new fixkit had been under the sink, taped up under the back of the basin.  I already had two, but none of them were nearly as complete as this one.  I stowed it in my bag and prepared to move on.

As I opened the door to the apartment, I heard a door slam down the hall, followed by someone cursing under their breath.  I started to panic.  The clepol usually didn’t hang out after they had done their sweep, but occasionally they would do a physical building check after the altctrl crew had moved through.  Realizing that if that was the case, I’d have been screwed whether or not I was inside or outside the door, I turned around.

An old man was standing near a door a few down from mine.  He looked older than the dust he was covered in, which had fallen from the ceiling when he’d slammed the door, but it was hard to tell.  It was possible that he was simply a few years older than me, but had done too much Time, too often, and it had aged him.  Still, I had a feeling that was only part of his aged look.  I could tell that sort of thing sometimes.

He was clearly as surprised to see me there as I was him.  With a started cry, he started to open to door to his apartment, fumbling with trying to put a key in the lock.

“Wait,” I said, realizing only then I still had my fuveil on.  Chastising myself, remembering that was dangerous to wear in public, it made me a target to thieves, I quickly removed it.

“Wait,” I repeated.  “It’s ok, I’m not clepol!”

He hesitated, turning again toward me.  With an audible sigh of relief, he began to walk toward me, still trying to dust himself off as he walked.  This was clearly a challenge to him, trying to do two things at once, and eventually he gave up and left the dust where it was. 

“That’s a nice fuveil,” he said.  His voice lacked the overtones you usually hear from thieves, and simply reflected his awe for the equipment.  “I wish I could get me one of those.  Then I wouldn’t have to use the chains anymore.  I’m not sure how much more my arms and legs can take.”

There were a few ways to protect oneself from clepol.  The safest was a good fuveil, but few people could get one anymore, even if they could afford one.  The chains method was not nearly as effective.  It consisted of chaining yourself to a chair and hoping the manigu instructions didn’t include exact instructions of how to unlock yourself from the chains.  It was a gamble, because sometimes the manigus were very specific, but clearly he’d been lucky.

I rarely offer assistance to anyone these days, but this guy looked like he could really use the help.  Besides, memories of Costia were still fresh and raw in my mind, and it was something he would have done.

“I’ve got some Balm if you need it,” I said, shoving my mask into my pack.  “It’s not much, but it should help.”

“That would be great,” he said, “but what I really need is food.  I went through my last ration yesterday, and hadn’t had much to eat before that.”

I looked at him appraisingly.  Offering Balm was one thing, but to give this guy food was different.  Food was hard to come by, harder than Balm, Smoke, Time, or any ruemedicament for that matter.  It was like asking someone for money used to be in the old days.  Still, this guy was lucky.  This apartment had a nice stash of rations in a hidden safe, and there was no way I could carry all of it with me.

“I’m moving on from here,” I started, “so I’ll let you in on a little secret.  Let’s go in my apartment.”

He hesitated.  Clearly, he still didn’t trust me.  It was probably the fuveil – that was way too good of a piece of equipment for an urchin like me to have.  You could see the fear in his eyes.  Even if I wasn’t a clepol, there were other dangers in this world.  Rouge havor groups weren’t uncommon, and even though the vital organs of a guy so Time damaged as him were nearly worthless on the market, sometimes they were desperate enough to take them.

“I’m not a havor,” I told him.  “Bella axiom de vita.”

I rarely spoke those words.  Costia had taught them to me when he came back from the army.  He never told me where he had learned them, only saying that to the right people, it was a sign of absolute trustworthiness.  He told me to used them cautiously: that if I used them on a govag, it would probably cost me my life; if I used them on a normal person, they wouldn’t understand them; but if I used them on the right people, it could help me.  I was hoping this guy was one of the later two groups.  Clearly, though, this was the right thing to say.  His face suddenly brightened up and he moved as swiftly as he could to join me back in the apartment. 

I had him wait in the living room while I went to get the rations.  I’d found the safe on my third sweep of the apartment, when I was almost starving myself.  The safe gave me some trouble to begin with, but it was an old-fashioned combination safe, so it was easy enough to break.  I didn’t even have to use the detlop Cadoc had given me, which was nice.  You never know when you’ll need to blow things up, so it would have been silly to waste it on something I could eventually figure out.

There was still a modest supply left in the safe.  Like I said, when I found it, it was full, with plenty left over even after I’d put much of it in my pack.  After considering it, I loaded up with half an armful of packets, locked the safe back, making sure to put back its concealment façade, and went back into the living room.

You’d have thought I’d have given the guy a million lucre, he was so stunned.  Ripping open the first one that fell out of my arms, he sucked it down, though not as fast as what I had expected.  About half way through the pack, he started to explain to me why.

“I’ve done too much Time,” he muttered, staring out the window.  “Too much Time.  I used to think it wasn’t worth it, but now I’m not so sure.  I’ve got the Syndrome.  Had it for years.  That’s why I started doing Time, you know.”

The Syndrome was the most virulent form of sexually transmitted disease yet discovered.  It was only transmitted by women, usually prostitutes.  Men couldn’t transmit it because of the effects.  I wasn’t sure exactly what the effects were; all I knew is that men who acquired it couldn’t fuck anymore.  Time was supposed to be the treatment for it, but it was soon realized that it didn’t affect the disease, just gave the user about a three hour orgasm.  Combine that with the side effect of rapid aging, and Time quickly dropped from the accepted drugs list to status of ruemedicament.  Other, better drugs had been developed, but they were only available to the bourgeoisie.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

“Hmm,” he said.  “Bella axiom de vita.  It’s been ages since I’ve heard that.  I was in Cabel once, before I got the Syndrome.  Once I got sick, though, I was useless to them, and resigned.”

I nodded in recognition of what he said, but didn’t offer any reply.  I never told people my story; I learned a few months back that letting too many people know about your past can come back to haunt you, not to mention to leave you vulnerable, so I just let the old man ramble on.  He was quiet for a while, then continued.

“I wasn’t an upper member in the Cabel,” he continued, “but I was very involved.  That’s how I got the Syndrome.  I was young and stupid and let myself get drawn in by a poppy.  She might not have even known it, but she was bait.  Not for me, directly, but for one of the guys over me.  I heard about all of that after the fact, of course.

“She was supposed to be targeted at Dagda, the lecab of the unit I was part of.  But he caught wind of the plot beforehand, and I was asked to take his place.  They told me the risks, of course.  I mean, they didn’t tell me exactly what was going to happen to me, but they told me the chances were high there would be some kind of assassination attempt.  But I was dedicated, or at least I was back then.  I willingly, foolishly perhaps, agreed to go in Dagda’s place.  If I knew then what I know now, I might not have done it.  Oh to be young and idealistic again.”

Clearly the guy had decided to tell me his tale.  I wasn’t really interested in hearing it, but I figured what the hell, maybe I’d learn something useful.  Although it was so hard to, I did my best to hold still and pay attention to what he was saying.

“Afterwards, before I could get back to Cabel, I got sick” he continued.  “The Syndrome doesn’t just affect your sexual abilities.  It causes your body to break down.  It’s a slow process, but it happens.  Time speeds up that breakdown.  You’d never imagine I was only thirty-nine, would you?”

He didn’t wait for my response and went on.

“I never returned to the Cabel.  I guess my will to fight was broken.  They probably figured I was dead or compromised, and never attempted to make contact.  They warned me they wouldn’t.  I was supposed to contact them if I managed to get any information on my mission, but my contact never got back to me. 

“The organization always had an insecure messaging system.  Mostly it was word of mouth, since computer communication wasn’t reliable or safe anymore.  My contact was named Phinehas.”

“What?” I exclaimed. 

I once heard Cadoc call Costia by that name, Phinehas, once.  It was a few months before Cadoc disappeared, and I remember it because they got into a fight afterwards.  Not just a yelling match, but Costia was furious at Cadoc.  Beat the shit out of him.  It always confused me, because Costia was almost never violent, and Cadoc never held the beating against their friendship.

“I think it was Phinehas, at least,” the old man continued.  “Like I said, I never met him, and that was probably just his Cabel name anyways.  No telling who he really was, or even if it was anyone at all.”

“Phinehas,” I repeated.  “I knew a Phinehas once.  He was… he was a good friend of mine.  Maybe I could find him for you?”

The man looked at me slightly surprised.  Then he sighed, as though disappointed in himself.

“No,” he said defiantly.  “I’m too far gone to start back up that mountain.  I’m not long for this world as it is, to use the old-fashion saying.  I’ve got a few more doses of Time left, and that’ll speed up the process, but I don’t expect to live through the end of the month.”

With that, he went silent.  My thoughts gravitated back to Costia, making me remember that I hadn’t cleaned my mask since I’d used it.  Using this as an excuse, I left him to return to his thoughts and went into the kitchen.

As I carefully disassembled the mask, thoughts of Costia again paraded through my head.  I hadn’t thought so much about him since he disappeared.  Or I’d tried not to.  I hadn’t always been successful.  Today wasn’t the first time I’d spent hours crying, calling out his name.  This time, though, I thought about things I had hardly given a thought to before.

I knew Costia was in the army when he was young.  I remember when he left.  He was so different when he came back – so disillusioned.  He went through months of that, up until his first reserve call up.  He was gone for about two weeks, and came back almost a different as he was after he returned from the War.  He came back the old Costia I’d grown up with, the one I’d fallen in love with.  He refused to answer any questions about his service, both past or present.  Only after we’d had some great rows over it did I finally give up asking him.

This old man, though.  What he said, it made me think about it all over again.  What was Costia really doing?  I mean, now that I think about it (and my mind was running a hundred miles an hour in the throws of stagdio), it wasn’t till after the first few times he’d been working with the reserves that he brought home Cadoc.  We’d both known Cadoc since we were kids, but we’d never really been friends.  Not until after the war, when he became part of the family to us almost, did either me or Costia really get close to Cadoc.  I just figured, at the time, that it was some kind of army camaraderie, and played along.  But now, reminded about it by this dying man, maybe it wasn’t.

Since I was there, I decided to take one last look around the kitchen before I left.  This time, I was not only very sure I’d never be coming back there, but I was equally as sure that this time, I’d already found all I could find in that room.  Almost like magic, though, I was drawn to the fridge.  It didn’t work, this bloc hadn’t had electricity for years, so it was the only think I’d really overlooked before. 

Sure enough, I found something, something extremely useful.  Hidden behind a false-back to the freezer was a compac, the kind that enables you to store large amounts of rations in an unrealistically small amount of space.  This made me come to two conclusions about whoever lived in this place before I took it over.  One, they were extremely prepared to last through the long haul.  Two, they were forced out of their home, either through clepol efforts or by force.  I figured it was most likely because of clepol, because there weren’t any signs of forced entry or resistance in the house.  In any case, the people who had left here clearly hadn’t done so by their choice alone.

I started to return to the living room, but as I glanced in, the old man was sleeping, so I decided to pack up the remaining rations in the safe before I woke him up and made my exit.  Quietly, I slipped past him and went back to the safe.  After loading up, I noticed something else I’d never noticed before.

At first, this perturbed me.  Costia had trained me on how to be observant.  That, in addition to my own seemingly abnormal abilities of perception about both people and things, meant there was usually very little that I missed.  Lately I had just chalked it up to taking in too much Smoke, but this time, I was sure that wasn’t it.  What I found made me even convinced me entirely.

Under the rations, there was an envelope marked “PRIVaTE aND CONFiDENTIAl”.  Maybe I’d noticed it before, and I’d just figured it was some personal documents of the previous inhabitants, but I was sure that the envelope wasn’t there when I’d first emptied out the safe to count the rations in it.

In side, this is what I found:

         RESERVE aRMY OFFIcIal dOCUMENT: 

         RANK oFFiCER cODE NaME PHINEHAs t

         By order of the Office of the Reserve Army of Newland, acting under the requirements
         of the needs of the Consolidated Regions of the Western Hemisphere, you have been
         assigned for duty at the in Sector 1953 of Zone 0926, specifically Fort Valor,
         Newland.  You are ordered to report to this no later than 0700 hours on September the
         15th.  Further information on your mission will be given to you at that time.  Please
         make preparations for a short tour of duty, lasting no more than two months.  This
         letter should be presented to your employer as verification for your required leave of
         absence.  Should your tour of duty last longer that the anticipated time, the Army
         takes responsibility for making further arrangements for an extended leave of absence
         with your employer, as well as notification of your family.

         Thank you for your dedication and service to your nation.

         Captain Arthur D. Osbert-Denson
         First Ranking Officer of the Central Alliance Battle Equipment Legion
         Fort Valor, Newland, Consolidated Regions of the Western Hemisphere
         01September2036

Maybe I’d have never given another thought about this letter if it hadn’t been for that old man mentioning Phinehas.  Even then, my life would have most likely been easier for me if I had simply ignored the package entirely.  But I couldn’t.  I had to find out what happened to Costia, and this might be how. 

The fact was, I was tired of just running from place, trying to keep myself out of the redus.  I was running out of endurance for it, despite all of the Smoke I’d been doing lately.  The truth is that I was lost in the world with out Costia, and simply going on mourning him wasn’t getting me anywhere.

I thought about all this and more as I reread the letter.  It wasn’t until my sixth rereading that I noticed something else important with it.  On the bottom of the letter, I noticed a symbol etched into the paper.  Running my hand across it, I realized what it was.  I almost screamed and dropped the letter, but I managed to control myself.

The symbol was an intertwined A and C.  I’d seen it a hundred times before, carved into the bench Costia and I first made out on when we were teens, scratched into the bumper of the car we had first made love in, and molded into the ring Costia always used to wear on his right, middle finger.  It was our mark.  We had created it together when we were kids, long before we had even thought about kissing one another.  There was no mistaking it – Costia had left this letter for me.  It was a sign, and I had to figure it out.

Now I just had to find out what it meant.  With out thinking, I rushed back into the living room, letter in hand, startling the old man.

“Cabel sent secret messages, right?” I demanded of him, not even stopping to apologize for waking him up.  “They used some kind of code to communicate between their members – they had to.  What was it?”

“Hold on, hold on,” he stammered.  “Calm down a minute.  What in the world are you talking about?”

“This letter,” I said, thrusting it out toward him.  “It’s a message from Cabel, and I’ve got to know what it means.”

The man took the letter and studied it for what seemed like days.  It felt like civilizations rose and fell in the time it took him to read it, and even longer before he said anything again.

“Well, well,” he said.  “I haven’t seen one of these in years and years.  Granted, the only time I have seen one was in passing, on the desks of one of the Officers at the Cabel office I was working with, but…”

“Ya, whatever.  I don’t care where you’ve seen one before, I’ve got to know what it says!”

“I don’t know,” he replied bluntly, handing the letter back to me.  “I was never taught the code for official letters.  I wasn’t that deep into the group.  I mean, it’s got a few of the hallmarks I’ve heard of, obviously.  The reference to Central Alliance Battle Equipment Legion, which is one of the code names for Cabel, but beyond that, I’ve got not idea.”

I couldn’t take that as an answer.  I’d reached my first stagdio peak and I was wired.  With out thinking, I pulled out the ragged hand gun I kept in my waist band and pointed it at the man.

“Look,” I demanded.  “I don’t give a damn about how deep you were in the group.  I don’t give a damn how involved you were.  I don’t give a damn about how much you lost or gained from them.  All I want to know right now is how to get the code out of this letter.  And if you can’t help me, I’ll kill you.”

The man went as pale as a sheet.  He might know he wasn’t going to live much longer due to the Syndrome, but he certainly wasn’t prepared to die now.  Against all odds, though, his fear quickly dissipated and turned swiftly into pure rage.

“What the hell is going on,” he asked.  “What right do you have to demand this information, huh?  You just a little urchin scab, the same as the rest of us.  You aren’t part of the Cabel, and you never have been, clearly.  How the hell do I know you aren’t a clepol spy, huh?  You know, that would explain why you had such a great fuveil, wouldn’t it.”

“I don’t give a shit,” I screamed.  “The authority I have is this gun in your face.  If you can’t respect that, then you’re fucked in the head.”

He stared at me, and I pulled back the hammer.

“You think I’m afraid to die,” he yelled back.  “You think I put all of my commitment to Cabel behind me all those years ago, huh?  Well fuck you, little girl.  I was willing to die for them once, and I’m still willing to die for them.  So if you can’t give me a more compelling reason why I should tell you another damn word about Cabel, you might as well pull the trigger.  But remember, if you kill me, you won’t figure out a blasted thing about them.”

I considered this.  It’s amazing how fast your  mind can move, how fast it can process when you’re on a stagdio peak.  I realized quickly that if I told him, and he still didn’t or couldn’t help me, I could shoot him anways.  Might as well try for some cooperation.

“Phinehas,” I said.  “I think Phinehas was my Costia.  My Costia went missing years ago, and I’ve been forced to think he was dead.  Once, our good friend called him Phinehas.  Now I read this, dated the same month Costia left on his last assignement for the reserve army division he was in, and I’m certain Costia’s codename was Phinehas. 

“I know something’s happened to him.  I hope he’s not dead, but I’ve got no way to know, and no where to go to find out.  If this letter is for him, it’s my right, as his pair.  We’ve been together since we were kids, and I know he wouldn’t have left me of his own free will, even for Cabel, if he was involved in it.

There was pleading in my voice now, along with tears streaming down my face, but I went on.  The gun in my hands was still cocked and pointed at the man.

“This might be the only lead I’ve got to find him, and I’d sooner be shipped off to a redu camp and forced to work as a govag before I’d let this chance go.  So tell me, will you help me or not.”




He didn’t answer for a while.  Then, finally, after ages and extinctions, he sighed and partially collapsed on the couch. 

“You can put the gun down now,” he said.  “I’ll tell you.  I just had to make sure.  I just had to.  I’ve been waiting a long time for you to come.”

With out regard to me, he stood up and started to leave the apartment. 

“Come on, I’ve got some things to give you.”

Not seeing any alternative, I followed him.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

If I thought the apartment I’d taken over was dirty, it was nothing to his.  There was a stench of decay and death in it, probably because of his overdosing of Time.  Still, no matter the reason, I didn’t like it there, and it wasn’t a place I wanted to stay.

He led me back to the bedroom, where he pulled a small ammo box out from under the bed.  This he handed to me, and walked back into his living room.

The box was light.  Not caring about him anymore, I sat down on the bed and opened it.  Inside, there were three envelopes and one book.  One of the envelopes was labeled “MALICHI”.  It was already opened.  Inside it was a blank sheet of paper.  Confused, I looked at the other two envelopes, neither of which were opened.  The first was marked the same as the envelope I’d found in the safe had been, “PHINEHAS”.  The second, though, was marked “ALYA”.  This one I tore open, only to find another blank piece of paper.

Shoving the letters and book back inside the ammo case, I grabbed it and my gun and stormed into his living room.

“What is this,” I demanded.  “Some kind of a sick joke?  There isn’t anything written on these letters.”

“You’re wrong,” he said in an overtaxed voice.  “You just don’t know how to read them.  Here, give me my letter and I’ll show you.”

Hesitantly, I gave him the letter marked “MALICHI”.  He took it and looked at me again.

“Have you got a lighter?”

Fumbling with my back, I handed him a candle and a book of matches.

Carefully, he struck the candle and started to move the letter towards it.

“Wait,” I screamed.  “If you so much as burn a corner of that letter, I’ll kill you.  I won’t just shoot you, I’ll make you wish you would have never been born.”

“Calm down will you, girl?  I’m not burning anything.”

Slowly and carefully, he moved the paper back in forth just above the flame.  Soon, the words began to jump into existence on the paper.  After all the words had set, he handed the letter to me.

          Malichi,

         I’m trusting you.  I’ve got now one else I can trust with this.  I had to leave Alya
         because my continued presence with her at this time is putting her into grave
         danger.  I should be able to contact her with in a few months, during which time I’m
         convinced that she’ll stay at our home, but if I can’t follow through on my intentions,
         she’s give up and set out wandering the streets.  Chances are she won’t look for me,
         she’ll believe I’m dead.  I might be dead by then, who knows, but I want her to know
         one way or another.  My heart owes that much to her, if not so much more.

         I’ve trained her as well as I could.  She should be pretty self-sufficient on her own. 
         I’ve also given her clues as to where she can hide.  One of them was this building. 
         Knowing her, she’ll probably pick apartment number 6774.  I’ve planted things for her
         in that apartment, things to help her stay alive and out of the hands of the govags. 

          If she should come, you must make contact with her.  Drop hints, about your Cabel
         involvement, maybe that you were an ex-army man yourself, what ever you can think
         of that might strike her interest.  She might remember having heard code name
         Phinehas, but I’m not sure.  She’d definitely know the name Cadoc, but I’d only use
         that as a last resort. 

          Once you’ve got her mind working on the right frequency, get her this box labeled. 
         Show her how to expose the writing, and prepare her for what’s ahead as best you
         can.

          I’m counting on you, Malichi.  Remember all those times I saved your ass, all those
         times I covered for you.  You owe me this one favor.

          Costia”

“Costia,” I repeated under my breath.

Before I could even reach back to the box for my letter, I heard it.  We must have been so caught up in what was going on that we ignored the deadly silence that had fallen over the zone.  We both noticed at the exact same time, and stared at each other in wide-eyed horror.

“What the hell is going on,” he said.  “The never do two sweeps through the same bloc in one week!  This is bad.  That means they will do house to house checks this time.  They are looking for someone.”

His eyes flashed at me for an instant, but looked quickly away.

“We’ll be ok,” I said.  “We can wait it out like we did last time, then stay a step ahead of the altctrl while they search the building.  We’ve got masks…”

Just then I realized he didn’t have a mask, and I didn’t have an extra to give him.  We again stared silently at each other.

“I just told you I was willing to give my life for Cabel,” he said.  “I should have done it the first chance I had, but I was a coward.  I’m not going to let fear stop me this time, though.”

With that, he grabbed me and hustled me back into his bedroom.  Holding me in one hand, he ran his other hand over the wall that would have abutted the apartment next door to his.  I guess he found what he was looking for, because after hearing a click, I heard the soft hiss of an air-lock, and the wall opened up into a cleverly hidden door.

“Put your mask on and wait in here,” he commanded.  “It’s supposed to be haly-proofed, but I’ve never tested it.”

“But what about you” I asked.  “You don’t have time to set all your chains!  I’m not going to let you get captured.”

“I won’t be captured,” he said, jerking the gun from my hand.  “I’m through with this world now.  I’ve done my part; I’ve made up for my failures.  Now I’ll be damned if they take me alive.”

I started to protest, but he pointed the gun at me.

“I’ll shoot you too if you don’t do as you’re told,” he stated calmly.  “Costia would rather have you dead than captured, that much I know.  You just wait in here.  I’m going to set the lock for two days – the clepol should be through by then, even with the extra altctrl sweeps.  When it opens, get as far away from this place as you can.  Go find Costia.  He’s our only chance.”

Despite my further protests, I was face to face with the gun, so I had no choice but to do what he told me and pray for the best.  Just as he shoved my pack into the wall cubby with me, I heard the sound of the haly car turn the corner.  Maybe I imagined it, but I could almost hear the hiss of the gas.  As he shut the door, I felt a sharp jab in my arm nearest him.  The drugs took almost instant effect, and I slumped down in the cubby clutching my pack, resigning myself to darkness and sleep for the next two days.

The last thing I remember hearing was a single gun shot, then I knew no more.