Part VIII: The Mean Streets of Matorral Viciosa

  When Annebél helped her lift Matzi into the back of the van, she noticed Tasìa's sad little grimace.

  "Bummed about Roberto and Terry?"

  Annebél's words came across as flippant, but she was likely mulling over the other piece of shocking news Sinclair passed along: the Canadian cannibal cult leader who wanted to dine on her truly was undead and reanimated—through cull spore intervention, and not just the dumbass vampire LARPer he seemed to be when Tasìa shot his skull off.

  Annebél’s neck quivered with tension as she awaited Tasìa’s response.

  Yup, Tasìa thought. She is definitely thinking about vampires.

  "That's one way to put it," Tasìa answered.

  Annebél shrugged. "They were a fun couple."

  Tasìa crawled into the passenger seat from the rear cabin. Annebél, instead, walked around to the driver's seat after shutting the back doors.

  "Wait... You knew them?"

  Annebél chuckled, like her friend didn't know the half of it.

  "They came to all the block parties that we held at the Marejada back in the day. Villa Marrón is a small town: all the sexy people know each other—intimately."

  "Ha!" Tasìa squealed.

  Her family, with their Cathar Anewed background, tended to be conservative in their mores compared to the greater society that became exponentially more hedonistic after the Cull Spore Invasion killed off STDs.

  Annebél lifted her right eyebrow, smugly.

  "A one-man woman, you are," Annebél observed.

  "Until death do us part. Oh, that reminds me," Tasìa said as she realized she now had the time to make that call to Beauregard she had been putting off for the right moment.

  She switched the PalmEx to call mode and anxiously dialed, smiling at Annebél as she waited for a dial tone that never came.

  Just a faint pulse. She tried the number again and got the same response.

  After waiting for several seconds, Tasìa gave up. She looked around, expecting a pink and scarlet sky or some other such El Sabo fuckery.

  "What's wrong?" Annebél asked.

  "Not getting a signal," Tasìa answered. "I'll try again later."

  Annebél's lips pinched together, skeptically. Her eyes glanced up at the virtualized rearview mirror and back at the road.

  "Inside Vida Escondida? That's hard to believe," she said.

  She turned the vehicle off of the service road and onto the main highway, headed east.

  "Yeah, well, I'm too dead on my feet for mysteries," Tasìa answered. "Where did you decide to take us, by the way?"

  Annebél's head bobbed as she studied the signs.

  "You said you needed to lay low and get out of Vida Escondida as you planned your next move while your friend back there is on the mend. There is a motel just shy of the Bolivian border sixty kilometers from here."

  As Annebél spoke, Tasìa glanced at Matzi. The LED lights on his head bandage glowed a soft yellow. When Elise examined him, she discovered damage to his internal organs. Her treatment involved putting him into a coma while his body mended with the regenerative biotics she administered.

  When all five of the head bandage LED lights locked in solid green, Tasìa was instructed to give him a shot that counteracted the coma.

  "Hey," Annebél popped her on the knee to get Tasìa's attention. "You'll love the place! The motel has a gun store and a range."

  Tasìa tisked as she eased out and displayed the Loredo Armory 1902 .38 Sporting.

  "I haven't even had time to check out this little beauty Andu gave me."

  Annebél gave Tasìa a sly look.

  "So what's the story there?" She asked.

  Tasìa ignored the innuendo. True, the two, Tasìa and Andu Caza, had a certain chemistry.

  "His sister's favorite gun. He wants to purge her memory from his mind; it is too painful for him."

  Annebél shrugged. "His loss is your gain."

  Tasìa chortled loudly. "You are bad, bad, bad, mi hermana! True though, it is an exquisite little addition to the arsenal."

  As Tasìa studied the gun, she noticed Annebél's eyes were darting from the road to the rearview mirror display again.

  Tasìa glanced through the backdoor windows. A motorcycle was following them from fifty meters behind.

  "We got a tail," Annebél announced. "On the left wall behind me is a mini-rocket launcher. It is as heavy as all get-out, but you can pull out the mount just above the launcher to steady it."

  Tasìa shook her head with relieved-sounding laughter.

  "That won't be necessary. Pull over, I know this guy."

  The skellabot pulled up behind the van. When Tasìa and Annebél jumped out of the seats onto a roadside clearing, the skellabot already held a small silvery platter with a 250 ml can of Ki Jack All-Natural Alertness Elixir Original Formula, labeled Originue, and a glazed yeast donut in the crest of its arm.

  Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

  The skellabot approached Tasìa but then turned its head to Annebél.

  "My apologies, Ms. Sens Duarte, but service can only be rendered to patrons and their designated guests."

  "I've got liquid bread in the van," Annebél answered with a no-worries grin.

  After a curt nod, the skellabot turned to Tasìa.

  "Here you go, Ms. del Alma-Gris. We did anticipate you would need some measure of sustenance and an energy boost. Our surveillance shows you have been in nonstop activity without sleep since arriving in Vida Escondida."

  She was feeling ravished. Tasìa gladly took the donut with a thanks. When she bit into it, the taste was unexpected. Not bad in the least, but not what she expected.

  The skellabot read her reaction.

  "That is our standard recipe for yeast-glazed donuts with the addition of a protein bar made of chayote and camu camu milled into a supporting grain."

  Tasìa ripped off the tab on the can of Ki-Jack and swallowed it all in one go. Her eyes tingled and jiggled.

  "You weren't supposed to do that," Annebél shook her head. "Not with the original recipe."

  Tasìa leaned over, clasping her knees, and she breathed in heavily.

  "Shall I inform our medical unit that you are in need of transport?" the skellabot sounded deeply concerned.

  Tasìa waved it off. "No. No, give me a minute," she answered.

  Annebél laughed, dismissively, as she left Tasìa's side to retrieve her beer.

  The sizzle in her head dissipated over the next minute, as did the odors of scorched mushrooms and meat in her nostrils. Tasìa wondered if that was her brain matter catching fire or Ki-Jack's catalytic reaction to her steak-dinner-soaked gastronomic juices.

  "Hey, skellabot," Tasìa continued, talking through the loss of breath, "surely you did not make this trip to provide me with concierge service, correct?"

  Gears audibly turned as the skellabot sized up Tasìa's condition. Protocol was being stress tested.

  "You are correct, Ms. del Alma-Gris. I have come to inform you that our investigation is complete, and a decision has been rendered."

  Tasìa leaned up with a stagger. Annebél helped steady her with her right arm and handed Tasìa a beer with the other hand.

  "You are to be levied a 1200 USD fine for not taking the necessary precautions to secure your vehicle before merging onto the raceway. However, we conclusively found evidence you did not place those explosives."

  "I could have told you that," Tasìa replied as she uncapped the beer and downed it. The palpitations in her chest eased considerably.

  "Indeed. Back to the question at hand, we made a formal request for sensor and signal information from the security company responsible for the rental lot where you kept the 2063 Alfa Romeo HybrClydis.

  "The recently deceased Fiona Arami Caza, whom you engaged in a gunfight less than an hour ago, accompanied by a trio of Al-Majhul engineers thirty-five hours ago, entered the premises and tampered with your vehicle."

  Tasìa noted the Vida Escondida Autonomous Authority seemed to accept the premise of the sports car belonging to Tasìa without question. No doubt, the investigation uncovered Sal's ownership.

  "Any conclusion concerning motivation?" she asked.

  "Yes," the skellabot confirmed, "we picked up signal traffic from the incident. She was using the vehicle to sabotage a confluence of actors in Quadra political circles, an event she was instrumental in orchestrating: the Resuscitation Project you worked in concert with the Kutuzov Group, the Egliona Countermeasure tied with Grosse Prix Confidential Cyber Security, and destroying Elise Luna Claro's bounty team as a factor inside the últimos Días organization."

  Tasia squinted skeptically. "No way she put that operation together. I worked with her; outside her administrative tasks where she was fairly competent, Fiona was a total fuckup. You should have seen her lying there, dead. If she didn't screw up locking down the fasteners on that bandage suit she tried to put on, she'd probably still be alive."

  The skellabot nodded before it spoke: "In our psyche profile, we also assessed that Ms. Fiona Caza possessed quite a bit of awkwardness in her outward disposition but made up for it with a natural-born creative intuition. Her schemes were brilliant and often fantastical, but she had the Al-Majhul Engineering Squad with her to ground the plans in reality-driven measures and execution. Together, they proved a very effective coupling of resources and talent."

  Annebél put a hand on Tasìa's shoulder.

  "Tasìa," she began. "You know what this means?"

  Tasìa stared into the sky void as she answered Annebél's question.

  "Fiona had to be aware of where León and I were meeting before I even did. How was it she was so on the ball, given we were reacting to Demona's stroke and still in shock because it just had occurred?"

  Annebél cut in before the skellabot could answer: "Demona's stroke was no accident. Were you wearing the Katy Lieds at the time when she had her seizure?

  "Yes, but...," Tasìa answered.

  "You are on the right track, Ms. Sens Duarte," said the skellabot, "but the Katy Lieds are highly secure. The hack occurred on a... Ms. del Alma-Gris, this is a matter of the most delicate, private nature."

  Tasìa chortled. "Annebél is my best friend. Please continue."

  "The device that was hacked was a Schaffell Smart Haptic Prophylactic Sheath."

  To which Annebél burst into laughter. "The very pinnacle of German technology born in the Berlin Underground."

  To that, the skellabot nodded. "Indeed. Aside from its potential to be a security breach risk, it is a marvel of convenience wear technology. We have the data from the late Ms. Caza's execution of the hack on that device.

  "The sensors on the Schaffell picked up a virtual sonar of the proceedings that occurred in the sauna room with Ms. del Alma-Gris, Beauregard Lynchwald, and a virtualized Demona Helo?ste. At the time, Ms. del Alma-Gris was demonstrating masterful kegel ..."

  "Woah," Tasìa interjected. "You don't have to elaborate every detail there!"

  "My apologies, Se?ora. I will only share this: Ms. Fiona Caza turned your actions into a feedback loop in which she introduced relays, delays, fuzztone, and effects associated with instrumental distortion to further induce hypersynthesia in her target, Ms. Demona Helo?ste. This triggered a climax beyond Helo?ste's means to contain the accompanying deleterious effects of a seizure on her physical well-being."

  Tasìa remained quiet as she took it all in, and then she began to shiver at the realization her private moment of joy—intimacy with her man and sharing that experience with a good friend whom she allowed to live vicariously through her—had been weaponized by the very enemy who landed Tasìa in prison.

  She had not even vowed vengeance on Fiona, personally, for her part in it all. Tasìa had too much going on in her life to stop for that.

  But, perhaps she should have, Tasìa mulled it over in her head. Perhaps, if she dealt with Fiona head on, it would have saved everyone the current mess of grief.

  Annebél draped her arms around Tasìa. "Are you going to be alright, dear?" she asked.

  "If I didn't divert my attention from Sol's operation to test out the track, the explosives would have never been discovered, and Fiona would have lit me up and everyone else inside the Grosse Prix Confidential building. Just sheer dumb luck on my part I'm alive."

  "That was indeed the objective," the skellabot confirmed. "Only the server room was secure enough to remain intact, rendering it easy for the dragon to plunder. After that plan fell through, Caza improvised a backup plan. She had you deliver that sensorium-interactive with the viral data set under the false premise that Elise Luna Clara was sending you a message. Many Al-Majhul were sacrificed to see that one through."

  "Damn...," Tasìa whispered as she took it all in. "Twelve hundred is a small price to pay considering my life was spared due to your meticulous screening."

  "Indeed," the skellabot said. "Should I take that to mean you won't contest the penalty?"

  Tasìa nodded her head in no mood to fight.

  "No, I won't."

  "Very well," it replied, "I'll go ahead and deduct the penalty from your account, and we'll consider the matter faithfully resolved. I will update your PA with a notice for where you can pick up your vehicle at a time of your convenience with no storage charges assessed."

  Tasìa gave a curt nod, and the Skellabot returned one as well before turning back to its motorcycle.

  Annebél kissed her on the scalp.

  "Annebél," Tasìa began as she yawned, "could you lift me up over your big, beautiful, 1940s Hollywood-style leading lady shoulders and tuck me in beside Matzi? I'm beyond the help of Ki-Jack at this point."

  Annebél answered in a teasing voice.

  "Surely you have another round of fight in you after that skellabot dumped you with all of that miasma of assholery. No time to—."

  Tasìa faded out before Annebél completed her speech.