Altered Humans Page 3

  “Bad man!” Booger Bear said. His fur began laying down as he circled the body. He seemed as unconcerned over his demise as Gary was.

  Gary moved forward to examine the corpse. It was sprawled on its back in the grass. He averted his eyes from the smoldering chest wound and looked at the face. If he had had any doubts about leaving, that convinced him, for even slack with death as it was, he recognized who the face belonged to. Amelia's brother was as dead as Gary had ever wished him to be when he so sanctimoniously spouted off his belief in the sinfulness of genetic manipulation of animals and humans and ranted that they should all be disposed of.

  Ordinarily, a homicide committed on an intruder into a home or business wouldn't warrant even a grand jury investigation, but this was a different matter. The Deacon would certainly press murder charges against him and he had the influence in Houston to make them stick. This was going to mean trouble, more trouble than he had ever thought to imagine. Splitting up with Amelia had been in the works but killing her brother hadn't occurred to him in anything but fantasies. Then he remembered the unencumbered intrusion. Only Amelia could have given her brother the entrance code, and that meant that she had intended for him to enter on this very night, while he was away. He could think of no other reason than her hatred of Booger Bear; she must have induced her brother to come here with the sole intention of killing his pet. He hated to think that she could have been involved in such a sick scheme, but the evidence said she was. Booger Bear must have sensed his intent and retreated to the back yard. Had Amelia's brother known the spoken code for turning on the outside lights, Booger would probably be dead now, unable to have hidden in a lighted yard. And had the altercation at the deacon's place not caused him to leave early, even that probably wouldn't have saved him. He shuddered at how close death had come to his pet, but he was purring now.

  Gary bent down to pick him up and slung him over his shoulder. The cat clung there, twisting around to lick the back of his neck. He knew that the cat's time sense wasn't the same as a person's was. Gary figured that he probably thought that his human knew he was in danger and had come home when needed.

  All these thoughts coursed through Gary's mind as he carried Booger Bear into the house. If he had wanted to leave before, it was imperative to do so now. He had no illusions about the reaction of Amelia and her family to the death of her brother. They would see that he was not only prosecuted, but convicted. They had too much influence in the city for any other outcome to be expected, not even counting how the public felt about enhanced pets. Any jury would convict him. Killing a man to protect an enhanced cat? It wouldn't even be a contest.

  Gary took out a bag and threw some clothing and toiletry items into it, not getting into any particular hurry. The sound of shots was a common occurrence and he didn't expect the nearby neighbors to complain or sound an alarm, or have it answered if they did, so long as his own security alarm hadn't been activated to summon private guards. He added some extra power packs for his lasergun and a few food bars for the cat and himself, then took off his jean jacket and put on a heavier garment that had a pocket for the cat, even though Booger Bear was getting a little too big to ride comfortably in it. He threw his bag into the car, then called his pet. Booger Bear jumped into the front seat beside him, still purring.

  “Don't be so happy,” Gary told him. “We're in trouble."

  “Trou-ble?"

  “A world of trouble,” Gary said, wondering where to go and what to do. He had no idea how a fugitive was supposed to act, but he knew one thing: he had to get away from the house and make himself hard to find. He would figure out the rest later.

  He pointed the little electracar south toward the city. If there was any place to hide it would be there, at least for a temporary solution. He would have to decide on a better destination soon, but for the life of him, he couldn't think of one now.

  * * * *

  Bissonet Avenue was brightly lit. He cruised slowly, taking in the sights. Even in the few short years since his student years, it had changed. There was less vehicular traffic and the normal pedestrians were interspersed with occasional altered humans, sporting their differences rather than hiding them. Prostitutes and transvestites mingled with uptown visitors. Many of the wanderers were obviously gay or lesbian, strolling in twos or threes with arms entwined. Haggard looking refugees from blighted areas of the country mingled with the permanent residents, staring gape-mouthed at the bright holograms advertising sex, stimulants and entertainment. Some were trudging along as families, sometimes having two or three women with their children staying close to a single man. That was a reflection of both a heavier selection of male over female offspring and the fact that more men were dying trying to protect their families. The refugees wore drab clothing and long hair, marking them for transients as surely as tail feathers did a rooster. He noticed as he passed that some of the poorly dressed immigrants had already gotten into the predominant business of the district.

  He saw a young girl in overalls who couldn't have been over fourteen accosting a man in tights and cod piece. As the scene faded behind him, she made her score and led the visitor into an alley where she almost certainly had confederates waiting to separate him from his money.

  Farther on, a crowd was gathered around a dope dealer with a new consignment of euphorics and temporary youth genes, waving currency or trade items. Young men and women crowded forward, baring their bodies as they worked the crowd, hoping to exchange sex for drugs or money. Some flaunted alterations; furred bodies, extra breasts, long forked tongues and other aberrations. A patrol car with two cops in it hovered half a block away, waiting to collect their share of the booty. A robot skirted the crowd, top light blinking in accordance with the law, warning that an artificial intelligence was on an errand.

  The mad scene was all too familiar from his student days when he had occasionally ventured into this section of the city, but it was more overt now, less clandestine. A failing economy brought hedonism, back-street activities and hustling into full sway. With so many competing for so few jobs, the ones who failed to find legitimate employment scoured the streets for other sources of income. The thought of income brought a thought to Gary.

  He touched the disk hanging from a chain around his neck. His computer was still functional but he wondered how much longer it would be useful. He and Amelia had a joint account; either could obtain credit from their bank. Damn, he hadn't thought of that. A fugitive would need some money. He turned his car around and headed back the way he had come, trying to remember where a cash outlet other than the ubiquitous banking machines was located, one where gold coins could be obtained this time of night. Currency was still being depreciated, almost on a daily schedule. Best to get gold, all he could. He braked suddenly. There, a brightly lit sign advertising in holographic splendor: GOLD, CURRENCY, FOREIGN EXCHANGE. BEST RATES.

  He pulled up in front of the place and parked, leaving Booger Bear in the locked car. The receptionist in the foyer was slickly pneumatic and as photogenic as a news anchor. She raised lacquered eyebrows when he presented his computer extension code.

  “In gold?"

  “All of it. No, leave half of it in there.” His conscience told him that Amelia deserved part of their account, even considering that she had brought nothing into it and had added nothing to it since their marriage.

  The pneumatic beauty instructed her terminal, then raised her eyebrows again. “Half of your credit comes to three thousand and thirty two dollars. That would be one point two ounces of gold at the current rates and half of that—"

  “Oh Goddamn,” Gary said. He was too late. Amelia had beaten him to it.

  “Is there a problem?” The woman asked, an amused expression crossing her face.

  “Never mind,” he said, thinking that Amelia had left that little bit of money in the account only to tide her over until she opened her own separate account. She had left him enough money to survive on for a few days, anyway, even if that hadn't bee
n her intention. “Forget the half. Give it all to me in gold."

  “What denomination?"

  “Small,” Gary ordered, remembering that it wasn't wise to display coins or currency of large denomination in this area.

  Coins clinked into a basket, minus an usurious exchange rate. He pocketed them and left, wondering what else was in store for him before the day was done.

  * * *

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Gary stepped off the slowly moving slidewalk and stood in front of a familiar building with an unfamiliar name. The sign on the lounge had been changed since the last time he had been here. Before, it had been called THE ANIMAL HOUSE. Now, a large holographic display proudly announced its new name: THE ZOO. The sign was accompanied by a moving holographic display of nude men and women entwined with various animals. Prominent among them was a woman with huge breasts using a snake as a sexual partner.

  Gary entered the lounge through a hologram of a huge bear on skates. It growled ferociously as he passed through it. He blinked his eyes to rid himself of the after-image once he was past, but then his senses were assailed by realistic looking scenes displayed on three walls of the huge room. On the first, husky men thudded against each other, flailing armored hands and feet in some sort of parody of an old sport. On another, cats, dogs, bears and other animals fought and copulated in pornographic splendor with humans and other unlike species. The third was more sedate, consisting of scrolling lists of news, quotes on drug prices, betting odds on lotteries and sports events, stock prices and winning numbers of the hourly house lottery. It was all displayed silently, needing a bar or table control to access the sound.

  Gary threaded his way through the crowd of drinkers and revelers, up-towners and residents, pimps, whores and confidence men and all the other warp and woof of a society seeking pleasure and distraction in a crumbling world. He passed several tables with animals ensconced on them; dogs and cats and ferrets and others that appeared to be crosses. Some he recognized, others he didn't. Mostly, the inside of the place was as he remembered it except for the blatant pornographic displays of animals and humans; that was new to him.

  He sidled up to the bar and gave the terminal his purchasing code. A display sprang into being, listing the services available. He skipped quickly over the menu of sexual adventures being offered and almost as quickly past the drugs, both legal and ostensibly illegal. The only difference appeared to be in the price. He was momentarily surprised to see tobacco among the stimulants but imagined there must be a demand from some of the refugees who had flooded the city to get away from the depredations of the roving gangs of outlaws in unpoliced areas, and from the hordes of enhanced animals that were rapidly turning the countryside into an uninhabitable wilderness. He stopped the scan with a finger when it came to alcoholic beverages and ordered a simple rum and coke.

  The display blinked negatively at him, then he remembered that he had converted all his credit into gold. A human bartender came to his rescue, truculent until he displayed a gold coin.

  “Why didn't you say so, ‘stead of tapping in?” she grumbled.

  “I forgot,” Gary said, sliding the coin over to her.

  The barmaid made an unintelligible noise and dropped his change on the bar. Seconds later his drink moved along the bar and stopped in front of him. He took it and turned his back on the bar, surveying the massed humanity.

  There was little new to see that he didn't already know about or had seen before. Prostitutes plied their trade, males, females and others of indeterminate sex. Enhanced pets performed tricks for their owners. Uptowners were relieved of their money by smooth professionals in such a way that they hardly noticed or minded. Smoke from various drugs wafted into his nostrils, familiar from the few times he had been here as a student. He felt almost at home, in an odd sort of way. Then the floor show began.

  It started with a large cage being trundled into the center of the floor among the tables. Inside the cage was a man, a nude woman and a huge white tiger. The man acted as trainer, going through the ancient routines of barking gun, cracking whip and pushes and shoves at the animal with an antique, straight backed chair. Eventually the trainer “subdued” the animal, then forced it toward the nude woman cringing in apparent fear in a corner of the cage. The tiger bounded forward, bearing the woman down under its paws. The woman went through a fake struggle until she was turned around and forced down on all fours. The tiger mounted her and began thrusting against her buttocks.

  Gary turned his head at this perversion of his profession. He could tell that the tiger was enhanced by its swollen head. He wondered what went through its mind as it was forced to perform an act alien to it in the normal course of events. Or perhaps it had been convinced by its owner that this was the only life possible. Whatever, he almost hoped it would discover that there were others of its kind in the wild and escaped this kind of life someday.

  While he drank, he tried to think over the cacophony of sounds and voices. What should he do? Where should he go? He knew for certain that very shortly, if not already, he would be a wanted man. In the ordinary course of events this would hardly matter. Only the grossly repugnant forms of crime could induce the police into an effort to apprehend a fugitive—either that or political influence which the Deacon certainly commanded. If that weren't enough, he also had the wherewithal to hire private security forces for the same purpose. Unlike the police, they were efficient as hell.

  Booger Bear squirmed in his pocket and Gary freed him. He crawled out onto the bar and looked around curiously, blinking his eyes and twitching his stub of a tail.

  “Want something to drink, Booger?” Gary asked.

  “Coke,” the cat said. He enjoyed the tickling sensation of carbonated beverages although he never drank much of them after the first few tastes.

  “Let me buy,” said a voice from his left.

  Gary turned. While he had been considering his options, a thin man with graying hair and sharply pointed nose had taken the stool next to him. He was casually dressed in jeans and a loose coat with wide pockets. Gary could tell by the cut of the material that it had never been bought off a shelf.

  “Sure, why not?” Gary said, holding out his hand.

  The thin man punched for the beverage. It arrived quickly. He took Gary's hand while the cat began lapping at the soda. “I'm Terry Lee. You're new here, aren't you?"

  “I haven't been here for a while. I used to stop in occasionally when I was in the area."

  “Fine animal you have there. What's his name?"

  “Booger Bear."

  “What happened to his tail? And you got a name?"

  “Uh, Lawrence,” Gary said, the first thing that popped into his head. “And Booger is a Manx. They don't have tails."

  “Don't think I've seen one before, at least not the enhanced variety. You interested in selling him?"

  Gary eyed his companion warily. Was this a casual encounter or could he be a private security agent, already sniffing at the trail? He had no way of telling, but the idea of selling his pet was repugnant. He would as soon have sold his right arm. “He's not for sale. He doesn't do any tricks, anyway. He's just my pal."

  Lee stretched his arm and tried to pet the cat. Booger Bear shrank away at first, then relented. That told Gary a lot. He trusted Booger Bear's instincts. The man at least was no antagonist.

  “Fine animal,” Lee repeated. “Say, you looking for some action?"

  “Not really,” Gary said. So that was the angle. He was either a pimp or a runner for a gambling or drug cartel. But maybe the man could be useful anyway. It wouldn't do to keep his car; it could be too easily traced. He could just abandon it, but it would be far better to raise some cash. And the title was in his name only. “Know where I could sell a car?” He asked.

  “Could be. Is it hot?"

  “No, it's mine. I just need some cash."

  “Let's see the specs and title,” Lee said, all business now.

  Gary keyed in the inform
ation, forgetting that he had given Lee a different name.

  Lee raised his brows in wry humor. “The price just went down, Mister Daniels."

  Gary sighed. “How much?"

  “Cash or Gold?"

  “Gold,” Gary decided.

  Lee named a figure, horrendously under what he had just recently paid for the car.

  Gary winced, but decided to make the deal while he still could. “One condition. You forget where you bought it. Or even better, you bought it up north somewhere."

  Lee smiled. “No problem friend. I never saw you before. Let's go look at the car."

  Gary tucked Booger Bear back into the pocket of his jacket and slid off the stool. He really didn't trust Lee to keep his whereabouts unknown for long. Enough money could buy men like him many times over, but he hoped the man's own interests would give him a few days grace while he decided what to do.

  There were many considerations he needed to act on, some coming to him like an unfamiliar and very bad dream. He would need a new identity and a new computer if he stayed in the city. The one hanging from his neck was so individualized as to be like a blinking beacon over his head, telling the world who and where he was. And he needed a temporary place to stay, one where no questions would be asked. He had no idea how to go about arranging such things. Lee might be able to help, but he decided against that course of action. It might be better to distance himself from his first contact.

  The electracar was still intact in the guarded parking lot where he had left it. Gary interfaced the codes needed to transfer the title and operate the car with Lee's computer. As soon as the transfer of title was recorded in the city's archives, Lee paid him from a voluminous inside coat pocket. Gary removed his bag from the car.