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Outrun Stories #58 

Pale Blood — Part 9 of 10

Chapman’s putting on his best poker face. “So, you’re in, right? You go deep, you’ve had the needle, you’ve got the transfer, but you’re still no closer to Carla? We need to know who had her, Cutty. We need the boss man, we need to bring him in, for what he’s done.”

“Fuck you and your ‘for what he’s done’. Did you know he’s the only one that can inject memories into vessels?” I stare him down and he begins to quiver. “Yeah, just as I fucking thought. You guys playing dumb all along and you already know half the shit I’m telling you. You want to know his location, you need to know where he is, so you can get him and bring him in and weaponise whatever he’s got. Well, fuck it, you know, you can have him, have it, whatever the fuck you like. I really don’t give a shit anymore. I’m dying here, you realise that, Chapman? Accelerated cellular death, necrosis catalysed by the shit they injected me with, and all for fucking nothing.”

“Look, Cutty, you’ve been fighting us every moment we’ve been in here. When are you going to realise that we’re on your side, that we’re here to try and make something of this.”

“You heard what happened. You brought me in under false pretenses saying you needed to investigate the death of a child, of a god damn victim, one that I’d been investigating and trying to help for so long, and now you’re trying to play off that you’re here to help me? Give me a god damn break man.” I light another cigarette. “I need a drink.”

“Get some whiskey in here, two glasses.” Chapman turns to the one-way mirror.

We wait until the kid who brought the coffee brings in a bottle of some blended shit and Chapman pours out two glasses and I take a mouthful, washing it around for a few seconds until it really burns then swallow it down.

“I got in, Chapman. I found out where they were keeping her. All I needed was a plan of attack. I was deep in their underground now, you realise? Passing as one of them… It took a while, but the regulator put me in touch with a few people, got me some contacts. One thing I’ve always been good at is making people talk, so it didn’t take too long for them to trust me, and fucking anyway, they think they’re untouchable. They can control people’s minds for fuck's sake. You think they’re worried about the god damn police? The whole underground was restless with talk about this one big job, hundreds of millions on the line, this one job could expand their network tenfold, help them penetrate everything, everywhere. They’d go beyond just transporting memories in vessels for the pleasure of whatever fucking sicko that could afford it. They were going to work their way into government, over the border you know. They get some lacky human to play out some fictional scenario, creates a memory, right? Anything they want, and they put it in a vessel, get the vessel to a politician, all it takes is a few seconds touch, then it’s in them, they think it’s theirs. They were about to go all the way with this shit.”

“And you stopped them, Cutty? You got to them, right? You got to Carla before they could make the transfer? You stopped it, so their shit wouldn’t spread. Tell me you fucking stopped it, Cutty.” He stands and slams his hands on the desk.

“I’ll fucking tell you.” I take a pull of whiskey straight from the bottle. “I’ll tell you, alright.”

Musical inspiration: Hello Meteor—"Paradise Depth"
https://soundcloud.com/hellometeor/paradise-depth

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Outrun Stories #58 
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