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   Chapter 3 - Good night

Green Haven By Paul Kater Characters: 9609

Updated: 2018-02-05 19:03

The thick door slams shut behind me. It takes me a while to move all the safety slides in place while the electronic ones kick in as well. The joys of a cheap place in a shady neighbourhood. Marco and Anthony had put the metal bars up for me, it's just that some of them are a bit too heavy. I never mentioned it to them, they went through such pains to get the things mounted. It is pitch black inside but I am used to that. I step forward and wait a few seconds. The motion sensors still work as does the heating. Well, the heating is always there; it's the heat from some steam exhaust that's used so it's always warm in here. Finally the lights wake up, so I put my coat and umbrella away, kick off my shoes and walk into the living room. The place is much smaller than Bashir's, but big enough for me alone. Actually it is big enough for two, but - I cut off the thought. Let's not go there, Prissa. "Where's the vid-wall remote, " I ask myself. I look around in the battle field that is my living room. I know I need to clean that up. I've known that since weeks but somehow I keep finding other priorities. Finally I locate the thing under a pillow that I almost sit on. I flip on the wall and see if there are messages. As usual my incoming messages are abundant. There are two. "So, who is telling me what?" I wonder to no one as I hit the buttons on the unit. The first one is from Skylerax. Figures. They always look for idiots who let themselves be shot into space towards an uncertain future. I've thought of it once, long ago, but that was before more and more rockets exploded. No way they're going to get me for that, even if they'd want me. The second message is only marginally more interesting. It's Bashir, telling me that if I see this, I am probably too late for the show this evening. I should have kicked his butt anyway. Oh, right. I connect to his home and let him know I'm home and safe. He yawns a good-night and disappears. Flipping through the channels on the wall I find that most of them are garbage but I don't feel like watching anyway. I switch it off and get a shower. Bed is important now. I did too much and will pay for that so best to get in early. The clock tells me it is fripping late already but I tell it to shut up and convince myself that it's still early. -=-=-Of course I don't sleep. That's the kickback of doing too many patients in one day; it drains me in a very strange way. It robs me of my sleep and I'll be a wet rag the next day. The big beams from the police floaters punch through the holes in the improvised blinds. They paint moving patterns on the walls and the blanket and distract me for a while. My mind drifts off to the talk about the game we're trying to set up. We all agreed that either Anthony or Marco should play the Black Flyer. Lois would never do, she's scared to get hurt. Dolores would never do it, which is too bad. She'd have the proper shape for it with some props. After all, she was a man once, but since the sex change she is so girly that she makes me want to puke pink at times, even though she's a great person. They also tried to make me do the Flyer. Yeah, sure, as if I have the build for that. I mean, I'm not fat or so, anyone who says that will get their ass kicked, but I'm not... no. Not a Flyer type. I stare at the patterns on the wall again as another police floater passes close to the window. I wonder who they're chasing as usually they don't go this low. Then the burglar alarm starts. Of course. The thing is far too sensitive, if these drones fly by they always set it off. I fall from my bed, tired while unable to sleep and slip. Of course. With a bruised and scratched knee I hobble into the living room and reset the alarm. I don't dare to leave it off. Back in bed I feel drowsy. I wrapped something around my knee so the bed won't get all bloody and finally I sink into a doze... In a startle I wake up. I dreamed and it was pretty ugly. My heart is pounding and I fight my way out of the blanket that I managed to wrap around my head. The rest of me is cold so I struggle the blanket back into place and lie back to catch my breath. Damn, why did that dream of my ex come back? I only helped people today. Or yesterday, as a glance at the clock tells me. Why do I get slapped over the head with him then? While I try not to think of him I hear sirens and shooting outside. It's not in this block but there's a lot of it, and screaming too. The police probably got who they were after. Good thing. Just doesn't help me not to think of Donald. He went down with shooting and screaming as well. Dammit. I sit up and wrap the blanket around me. Then I get myself into the living room and after the light stops blinding me I call Mags. I always call Mags. He never sleeps. "Prissa. What's up?" Re

ally. Magdanovitch never sleeps. He looks as usual; dressed, awake, and like Mags. "I can't sleep. Floaters outside, shooting and sirens, and Donald in my head. And I don't dare drink more, I already had too much.""I see." Mags rubs his nose. No wonder it is always so red. "I may be able to put you out for a while, using your pendant. Can you be in bed in five minutes?""Hey, I'm at home, not in the maze Bashir calls his own. I can be in bed in thirty seconds."He shrugs. "I need five minutes.""To get in my bed?" I am careful. You never know with Mags, but he just gives me one of his looks. "Okay, okay, didn't mean no harm, Mags. I'll go back to bed and wait for you. I mean for what you want to do.""Okay. Sleep well, " he says and the wall switches off. Wishing I could share his confidence I stumble back to bed, almost tripping over the blanket. This is not my day. Very much not my day. Or night. Or whatever. Five minutes, he said. I keep my eyes on the clock as it ticks away time. -=-=-Urgh. "Saints, Mags. You shit." I can hardly open my eyes. "If I get my hands on that hammer you used on me I am so very much going to return the favour..."The clock tells me it is almost time to get up. At least he got that right. It takes me a while to get up and dressed and all that. The news I see on the wall isn't very fascinating. No mention of what happened outside last night of course, why worry the good people of Green Haven with the news that there were people arrested and perhaps killed in the mega-slum called Sin Angeles? Most people know that anyway, the more as it happens just about every night. And every day too while I'm at work. All the folks in Gypsee know, I am certain. They are mainly the artists and musicians, and they need things like that for their inspiration. Once I was at a gallery there to see paintings and drawings 'based on real life in Sin Angeles' as it was called. The artist was quite shocked when I told him that his stuff was hardly close to life. Oh, there were dead people and burning buildings in most pictures but he always forgot to add the police floaters and cars and blood. I'm sure the artist's never been to Black Town. Well, I can't blame him for that. Anyone with more than a few brain cells stays away from Black Town. And that includes the police. It used to be High Town and it was a pretty neighbourhood then, but something went wrong. The good folks moved out, the bad guys moved in and took over. And they took over well. A few times the Marines had been sent in but each time only half of them came back so the military stopped doing that. "Okay. Food done, " I tell the kitchen as I dump my plate in the cleaner. "Let's see what this nice day has to offer." Out of habit I look out the window. It's still dark, as usual. And it's raining again. Probably still. As I am putting on my shoes, there is a ping from the living room. Who the hell would be calling me this hour of the day? "Answer that!" I yell to the computer. "Prissa?" It's Mags's voice. "Just wanted to know you slept.""Hey Mags, " I say as I hobble into the room on 1.5 shoes. "I slept like a brick. You hit me damned hard." I drop myself on the couch and lace up the shoe. "Sounded like you needed a good night, " was all he had to say to my accusation. "And that worked. Remind me not to ask you too often, I still don't feel all awake but you know I have to get up and out as these shifts at the Clinic are so fripping inconvenient at times. But thank you for helping me out, buddy, if I can ever do something for you just let me know."There. Shoe laced up. I look at the wall. Mags's face tells me he is patiently waiting for me to stop talking so I force myself to stop talking. "Will do, " is all he replies. "Good luck today." That's the end of the conversation. Heading for the closet in the hall I wonder how it would be to take Mags out to Red River, the party district of Green Haven. Would he keep that stoic look on his face there and keep tinkering on his gadgets? Something inside me tells me that he probably would. If I managed to get him out there at all. I put on the coat and grab my bag. "Oh shit." I have forgotten to charge the stinger overnight. Like the previous night. I wonder if I can take the charger along and put the thing on at work, but... I'd have to leave it on a table in plain sight. Sure way to kiss the stinger good bye. I decide to take the stinger anyway. I have the knife and I pull the knuckle ring from a drawer. That should do it, it's early morning. All the junks are down and the drunks will be wasted. Besides, I'm not dangerous. With my trusty umbrella in hand I unlock the door, step out into the empty, hollow corridor and lock up again. In the feeble overhead light the scanner accepts my tattoo immediately.

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