Chapter 10 – Into the Wastelands

“Okay, so it had to be drugs of some description, knowing you.”

“So much cynicism,” said Bobbins.

They were walking to the edge of the Badlands, the place where the jurisdiction of Lakeside gave way to a massive cavern of discarded crates, boxes, pipes and Gods only knew what else, the border with the lands of the newly re-discovered Fire-folk. Since friendly treaties had come into place between them and all their neighbors, there should really have been no need for the guard posts to still exist. However, not all the Fire-folks neighbors were as sketchy as the Lakesiders. Mas was already approaching the small plastic sentry box that stood as the way marker, when Bobbins squeaked in his ear, “Lemme, handle this.”

Bobbins handed over a tally stick to the guard. The guard called to her mate, who hopped down from a large stack of wooden pallets. They conferred briefly, then both leaned up against the plastic side of the guard-post and gave it a shove. The whole thing slid to one side, revealing a small crawlspace through the massed junk, “After you,” said Bobbins.

“I don’t think so. You first.”

“I’m easy.”

“Yeah, that’s what bothers me.”

Already there was the scent of lemons, drifting towards them, or maybe just permeating the whole junk passage. The roof, such as it was, was so low that they both had to crawl. Mas didn’t need to apply a great deal of imagination to feel the weight of the tons of discarded metal and plastic above them.

“Wait here,” said Bobbins.

“Not likely.”

“They don’t know you. Don’t recognize your smell, it won’t end well. You need someone to vouch for you.”

“Oh, the irony,” said Mas. He sat on the floor facing the den interior. Bobbins pressed forward through a narrow plastic-sided entrance hole.

The air in the passage was oddly still and clean-smelling, a slight comfort. Mas shuffled, he was sitting on something: his telescoping spear weapon. He rearranged his jacket so the pocket wasn’t under him, and felt the cool metal tube in his hand. Somewhere beyond the odd plastic curtain Mas could hear muttered voices, tense but not raised.

Plastic rustled again, and Bobbin touched his leg, he resisted a twitch. “Come on.”

In the inner sanctum of the drug den, if that’s what it was, was a quite large space where the floor fell away via a large cargo net. A folk person stood on either side of the inside entrance trying not to seem like security. Mas struggled down to what passed as floor level and Air-sensed the room. All around the walls were folk forms, lying down, some stood, but all encased in something plastic-textured that in any other place would’ve resembled hammocks. Would this be where they all tripped from? On the wall nearest to him, someone in one of the slick cocoons sighed a peculiar sigh: not pain or sadness, more like amazement. Mas reached out and poked the form within. No response to him. Whatever was going on in there was way too interesting for him to disturb. Bobbins called him over in hushed tones from what seemed to be an entrance to another chamber. He clambered over the rope mesh to meet him.

The next chamber was the same as the first, larger if anything, but with an enormous membrane sling right across the middle of the chamber acting as a mezzanine. Bobbins led him to a place below it, then called up gently but firmly, “Larris?”

“Hello, Bobbins,” a female voice from the odd sling floor above them. Difficult to place an age. Not a pup, too assured. “And this is your friend?”

“Friend? Not really,” said Bobbins.

“Oh Bobbins, I’m offended,” said Mas. “Also, I thought being here was going to explain everything.”

“It will,” said Bobbins. “I hope you’re good for expenses.”

“Within reason, why?”

“Pass me half a tally stick.”

Mas reached into his pocket and snapped a stick in two. He presented a piece to Bobbins, who took it and gave it in turn to Larris. She took her time testing the veracity of the stick, checking the texture and flavor of the wood as correct. She reached behind her to a box that opened with two clicks, then turned back to Mas and Bobbins. “Half a tally stick buys two,” she said.

“It bought three yesterday!”

“And so there are fewer today. Supply and demand, my dear.”

Bobbins tutted and then presented his hand for inspection of what the ‘two’ might be. He tipped his hand. One small object clinked against the other and fell onto Mas’s palm. He prodded it. It was smooth, slightly cold to the touch and the size of a bead. He picked it up with thumb and forefinger and gently shook it near his ear. Hollow and filled with a watery fluid of some sort.

“Careful,” said Bobbins.

“What exactly is it?”

“They’re called ‘tears’,” said Larris from above them. “A mind-altering substance that…uh, came into my possession just this cycle.”

“A found thing?” asked Mas.

“Yes. Nothing like it has ever been found before, and it has been giving folk some… profound experiences.”

“Wanna try one?” said Bobbins. “You bought it, after all.”

“No.”

“I thought you weren’t afraid of anything?” said Bobbins.

“Oh, I’m not, but I don’t do anything stronger than racta or bamboo gin. Not since—”

Across the far side of the cavern, there was the faintest crunch and a deep shuddering sigh.

“Well, I never have.”

“Your loss,” said Bobbins.

“I didn’t come for a trip, I came for answers.”

“They may be the same thing,” said Larris. Mas ignored her and addressed Bobbins.

“Why did you kill the midwife?”

“I told you, I didn’t. I got to her place and she was already dead.”

“But you did steal from her.”

“Stealing. Can you really steal from the dead?”

“Ok scavenging, it hardly makes you moral.”

“And what did you take?”

“You know that already,” said Bobbins.

“Humor me,” said Mas.

“I took some reagent samples and the notes she’d scribed.”

“Because you were about to be an upstanding citizen and report the danger of this new drug?”

“You’re funny Mas, really.”

“Why then?”

“Because I thought she might be onto something, and if I could replicate her formula, I could make the drug, or something similar. It would make me very popular.”

“Hmm, yes it would,” purred Larris above them.

Mas turned his head toward the voice, “Have you had anyone new arrive here? Past couple of spans?”

“Now, now,” Larris said, “there is confidentiality to think of.”

“River-folk, young, stupid, but with a reasonable access to funds?”

“I have no idea who you might be speaking of.”

Mas growled and gripped hold of the edge of the plastic membrane floor and pulled it towards him. The female smelled slightly of fungus: she was Myconid-folk then and didn’t try her own product. Not stupid. He said in a low voice, “We can do this either way. I go away from here and didn’t find anything, or I go straight back to the constables and they bust up your sweet little racket. I’m not gonna lose any sleep either way.” At least that bit was true. He let go of the plastic and the membrane hammock swung gently away from him. He wasn’t the only one growling now.

“I give him up and you get out of here with what you came for and stop disturbing my customers?” she said.

“Deal,” said Mas.

She drew breath to reply, but then a rustle behind her and a crack, and they already knew where he was. A rush of lemon and sweat shot past them, too quick to Air-sense.

“Shreds, he’s legged it,” said Mas, moving to chase.

“You’ll never catch him unless you’re on this,” said Bobbins.

“Not likely,” said Mas.

“Let me then,” said Bobbins. “You go out back and cut him off. There’s an outflow pipe takes you the edge of the Quay, then run back to us this way.”

“Go!” said Mas, and with a crack and a hiss, Bobbins was gone. Mas was about to follow, but the sharp scent of lemons caught him, and he felt woozy. “Woah!” he said, “what did he do to me?”

“Nothing,” said Larris. “If you didn’t inhale a full capsule, you’ll get none of the effects.”

“Doesn’t feel that way.”

“None of the real effects. The dizzy will pass quickly. Now go. Out through the next chamber and there’s a hatch under the doorway, lift the plastic. The pipe is slick, but it brings you out where Bobbins said. Quickly, or you’ll never catch him.”