Audacious

16

The street ahead looked ready to be bulldozed. But there, waiting for Abby under the awning of the one place on the block not crumbling away, was the little girl she'd given the ice cream to. The kid was still licking sweetness from her fingers.

As Abby came alongside the kid, she fell in step with her.

''You put Promie down good.''

''He looked in need of it.''

''He's gonna remember you.''

''Maybe you shouldn't be seen talking to me,'' Abby said, not looking down. Those eyes were so huge. So dark. So full of untasted need.

Abby wanted nothing to do with them.

The kid kept walking beside her.

''Whatcha doing here?'' she asked.

Abby meant to say no more to this stray. Then found herself muttering, ''Looking for something. Or someone.''

Abby had just spotted a pattern when she'd been so rudely interrupted. At the moment, all she'd wanted to do was get out of Five Corners. At that moment, she'd noticed the pattern. Every move Momma Ganna made put her farther from Five Corners.

Maybe Abby wasn't the only one wanting out of this place.

Then again, Five Corners was pretty much rotting from the inside. Maybe Momma didn't have a choice. Abby doubted she'd get a straight answer to that question from Momma.

At that moment, the kid beside Abby stooped to pick up a passing cat. The cat allowed that she could be petted and suffered the kid to do so. It even purred.

''You want to pet her?''

Being mauled by a stray cat was very low on Abby's list of things to do. She declined softly. So the girl put the cat down and it proceeded to wrap itself around Abby's legs.

''I think the Goddess likes you,'' the girl opined. ''She don't like many people. You must be nice to lots of people. Not just me and giving me an ice cream you didn't like. Why'd you buy it if you didn't like it?''

Abby was glad the cat approved of her being in her part of town. The kid, however, was turning into a talker. Not something Abby needed.

''Once upon a time, I used to like that kind of ice cream. Guess I don't anymore.''

''Your glasses are nice. I see all the colors on them. You have a nice computer. You must be rich.''

Abby hadn't planned on anyone getting close enough to see her computer interface. This could go bad in so very many ways. ''Not rich,'' she said. ''Now, someone who has her computer jacked right into her head. That's rich for you. Or the ones that don't wear glasses, but contact lenses. Those are rich.''

''Yeah, I guess. But Bronc uses a reader. All the time he wishes he had a better one.''

''Who's Bronc?''

''A kid I know. He knows everything. If you want to find someone, he'd know them.''

''For a whole six blocks.''

''No, a whole lot more. All the gangs let him run in their territory. He helps them with their stuff. Not nothing that would help them against each other. He took their beatings and showed he didn't want nothing of that. But if they got music that ain't working, he can usually fix it.'' The kid seemed quite proud that she knew someone that even the gangs respected.

And who might know Mamma Ganna.

Or be a setup for an ambush.

You knew you were taking stupid risks when you left the embassy compound.

With a shrug, Abby took the next risk.

''Why don't you take me to Bronc and we'll see what we can do for each other that might make us all happy. Like this here computer. You think Bronc would like it? Or one like it?''

Not the actual computer. Too much data on it. But maybe one like it. Well, maybe a bit cheaper. Abby's computer wasn't anything like Kris's Nelly. Still, it was not something you got at the local drugstore, either.

To Abby's surprise, the kid just eyed her. If anything, her reaction got a whole lot harder. ''Bronc don't give no one up to be hurt. You a cop?''

''Nope, I'm not a cop.''

''Who are you?''

Stupid, stupid, stupid. That was one question Abby hadn't brought an answer for.

So she tried the best lie. ''I left here fifteen years ago. I'm wondering if I can find my mother.''

''And turn her over to the jawbreakers,'' the kid added.

''They still calling the antiterrorist squads jawbreakers?''

''I don't know. That's what we always called them as long as I've known.''

''All I can say is that there's no way I'd work for them.''

The kid eyed Abby, those deep brown eyes seeming to take all of her in. Weigh her. Decide her fate.

And Abby did a wipe of all her assumptions about the girl. Then she studied her again. Stringy hair needed washing. The dirty face and skinned elbows were part of a stick-figure body that looked to be years away from womanhood. Or could blossom tomorrow. Hard to tell, kids from Five Corners were so underfed. Maybe Abby had been low on the age. Ten, plus or minus one, might be closer.

But it was the eyes that gave the experienced maid pause. No way to tell what they'd seen. What they'd done. Abby started to credit them with what she'd known at ten or so.

Then shook that thought off.

Five Corners had been going to hell fifteen years ago. And it had gotten worse. No, this kid had seen worse than what drove Abby out of here.

There really was no reason to trust her. Certainly not her and a smart kid with connections to all the gangs.

It was time to walk…fast.

''You see that corner down the way,'' the girl said, pointing. ''The one with two stores on it and a couple of good-looking houses. One's even got some grass they cut.''

Abby looked and saw it.

''Uncle Joe and Auntie Mong don't allow no drug sales on their corner. No nothing. And they got shotguns to back them up. That's neutral territory. You go there. I'll bring Bronc there, so you can talk, and maybe Bronc will help you.''

''How about Uncle Joe. Could he help me?''

''Uncle Joe don't know nothing. You can ask him if you want, but all he ever says is that he don't know nothing.''

''Smart man.'' Abby had known Uncle Joe's in her time. She sauntered that way.

A second later, when she looked back, the cat was cleaning its paws, but the girl had vanished.

Uncle Joe's provided shade, and a lazy fan only slightly disturbing the warm air.

An old man of dusky origins took her measure, said, ''You're not from around here,'' and pointed Abby at a soda cooler when she agreed she wasn't.

Abby paid her rent for taking up space in the store by buying an orange soda.

''I'm adding a deposit on the bottle. You drink it here, you can turn it in for the deposit.''

''Sounds fair,'' Abby said, paid, and turned away to examine the merchandise. It was mostly food and essential items for the home. Or the hovel. Abby noticed a good supply of Sterno stoves and candles. Oh, and one entire wall was taken up with cheap wines and fortified beers.

It wasn't much different from the stores Abby'd spent her quarters and dimes at. Only now, everything was a buck or more.

Uncle Joe's ''You start any trouble and I'll finish it'' told Abby she was no longer alone in the store. The girl was back, but no one was with her.

''You want an orange soda?'' Abby asked.

''I like the grape kind better,'' the kid said, her face intent as she checked out the store.

''It's just me and Uncle Joe,'' Abby offered.

''She lying?''

''Not that I can see,'' Uncle Joe said, but quickly turned his attention to stocking cigarettes on the shelves behind him.

The kid sidled up to Abby. ''Bronc says your rig is making all kinds of music. Stuff he don't know how to work.''

Abby glanced at her wrist unit. ''Is it making music like a cop or jawbreaker?''

''No, or we'd have run. Then again, Bronc says you might be some kind of superbreaker. How's he to know?''

''I work out on the Rim. We got better stuff than the fools who think they're running Eden.''

Brown eyes went wide. ''The Rim! You been in space?''

''It ain't all the stories crack it up to be.''

''What part of the Rim you from?'' a young man's voice asked, cracking on ''Rim.'' He was a head taller than his girlfriend. Maybe a shade cleaner, at least his elbows weren't scabbed. His eyes were an intense blue that seemed to overflow with questions.

''Wardhaven,'' Abby said. ''And other places.''

''Didn't they just have a big space battle around Wardhaven?'' the youth asked.

''I wasn't in that fight. Some of my friends were. Some of them died.''

The two youths seemed to put their heads together over that one. Now, seeing two samples together, Abby figured the boy for thirteen, fourteen. The girl for maybe twelve, tops.

''What kind of work you do?'' Bronc finally asked.

''Interesting stuff,'' Abby said. ''A little of this. A little of that. The less said about it the more I like it.''

''And you're from here?''

''Not in the last fifteen years.''

''It would be nice to be fifteen years away from here,'' the boy muttered.

''And she wants to find her ‘mother,' '' the girl added.

''Everyone's got a mother. You get away from yours for fifteen years and even you might want to see her again. Maybe even your gram.''

''I'd be happy if I never saw Granny Ganna ever again.''

Abby let herself blink twice at that name. She also made a point of not skipping a breath. ''You two want a drink? What's her name asked for a grape soda. What do you want, Bronc?''

''I'll have a beer,'' he said, pulling himself up to his full height.

''He likes a strawberry soda,'' Uncle Joe snapped from two rows over. ''And that's all he'll have from my place.''

''Auntie Mong would sell me a beer,'' the boy said in not quite a whine.

''Over her cold, dead body. Don't you kids think us gray heads talk to each other?''

Grateful for the distraction, Abby pulled a grape and a strawberry soda from the cooler, and headed her two, ah, unreliable information sources to the counter. Business done, and more deposits made, Abby quick marched the youngsters to a couple of chairs around a dusty space heater.

The bottles were half empty before Abby asked. ''What's your name, dirty face?''

''Cara,'' the girl answered. ''And don't you go telling me to wash. You want me to look like I'm ready to sell something I don't see no reason to part with just yet.'' That was said with a glare Bronc's way.

''What's your mother's name?'' Abby tried to slip that in gently, softly.

It didn't work. ''None of your business. Who you hunting for, anyway? Bronc's the one that knows everyone. He's the one that wants to earn a 'puter like the one on your wrist. And he told me you'd never give him that one. Were you lying to me? People never give away a 'puter with their own stuff on it.''

''Let's say I got ahead of myself,'' Abby said, and turned her attention to the boy. Interrogating a fourteen-year-old boy ought to be easy. He had hormones. She didn't. Although on closer examination, the boy seemed to have eyes only for the unit on her wrist.

''So, Bronc, does Cara's mom have light hair? Some call it platinum blond. Others call it white or something like that.''

He glanced up from the computer. ''Yeah, only it's starting to get browner now. If you wash that mess on Cara's head, it would look like that. Real pretty.''

The girl stuck her tongue out. ''You and what army.''

''No, really, Cara, you'd look real hot, like your mom.''

''And what did that get her?''

That was not something Abby would ask. With luck, she'd see Myra in a few minutes and make her own assessment. Daughters were never a reliable judge of their elders.

''Is her mom named Myra?''

''She goes by Ruby now,'' Bronc said, ''but my momma says she's just putting on airs. She had a real name before that.''

''Yeah, my mom used to be Myra,'' Cara whispered.

''And you just mentioned Granny Ganna.'' Abby shot the last words out.

Cara fidgeted. ''I guess so.''

''She's about as tall as me. Pretty in an old-fashion kind of way.'' Abby knew it for classical beauty. But what do you say to an angry twelve-year-old?

''She's old and fat and, and she ought to behave like a gramma-ma.''

''She's still hot?'' Abby asked Bronc.

''If you're an old man and like old women, I guess so.''

''I'm, ah…'' Even now, Abby had problems getting her tongue around that old name. She tried a different tact. ''Ganna or Myra ever talk about another daughter?''

Both kids shook their head.

Which shouldn't have come as a surprise to Abby. Still, it was a kick in the gut. Apparently, they'd dusted her dirt from their shoes just as completely as she'd washed them out of her hair.

Abby took in a deep breath. ''I think your folks are who I've come looking for. Could you take me home?''