Chapter 5: Off the Map
Date: November 3, 1988
Location: Los Angeles, California, USA
Mission: Proceed to designated address.
They didn't call it "Hell-A" for nothing. Paul and I found ourselves in Echo Park, apparently one of the less nice parts of LA. The internal map I had of the area was woefully out-of-date, so I traced back and thanked my lucky stars Dr. Agon kept historical maps in there. I suppose it made sense, storing maps with temporal context. I could know immediately if one was outdated and by how long.
At first, I assumed this was one of the areas that got wiped out in World War III, because it looked nothing like it did in my time, according to the map. I discovered that the area we were sent to would be razed in about twenty years in order to build a school complex. Seemed like a decent idea--not a very good area for much else. Run-down houses were the norm. Gangs ran rampant. Well, so my data stores warned me. I didn't see anyone terribly rough, but it was safe to say the big money had long since gone from Echo Park and left this place with the scraps. It's ironic, then, that it would survive the nukes while the best parts of LA would be flattened into oblivion. Everything balances out sooner or later, right?
My mind wandered quite a bit as Paul followed me. We didn't talk much on the way here--not during the flight, and not during the taxi ride to this area. We flew economy class this time, and no armaments awaited us upon touchdown. Just a couple butterfly knives I'd stowed in my checked luggage. I did pick on Paul a little bit because of that. "You know how to handle yourself in a knife fight, right?"
"I know not to bring one to a gun fight, if that's what you mean."
Always the optimist, wasn't he?
I admit, I found it hard to be optimistic in this place. The air, you could barely breathe. The temperature wasn't too high, but the pollution-laden humidity made it feel oppressive. I mean, shit, I thought New Jersey smelled bad. It had nothing on this dump. I don't know, maybe it was a nice place at one time, and might be in the future, but at that moment I wanted to be anywhere else. At least I saw some nice graffiti, even though it was telling me in Spanish to go fuck myself.
We eventually made our way to the designated address. Paul brought up the rear, wondering how I knew where to go, but assuming I'd planned the route beforehand. Well, sort of. I did know exactly where I was headed from the beginning. I didn't want to roll up to the place in a taxi, as that would give us no opportunity to check for threats. So, once I realized the next house up was the one we wanted--the nearer side of a hideous, pinkish duplex--I stopped, turned, and nodded in his direction. We both got our knives out, which I can say didn't feel nearly as badass as drawing handguns, and kept them safely under our wrists, away from view. Defended somewhat less than adequately, we advanced on the house. There was a beat-up white car in the driveway, a Dodge Aries that hadn't been kept in the best state of repair. In fact, this whole side of the duplex looked that way: weeds had overgrown much of the yard, flowers lay shriveled dead in their pots, windows were smudged, the siding bespoke at least a few seasons' worth of neglect. I started to wonder if the place was actually abandoned. Paul watched my back as I stepped up to the front door. I didn't want to knock, not without knowing what was going on inside, so I pressed my right ear to the door and let some cybernetic hearing help me out.
"You hear anything?" Paul whispered.
"I hear... crying." Seriously. The pitiful sobs of what sounded like a little girl. I wasn't sure what to make of that. I eavesdropped for a good 45 seconds, waiting for any other audible signals. But I heard no other voices from within the house. Nothing but the crying.
"Are you going to go in?"
I put my hand on the doorknob and turned very slowly. It was unlocked, and I took great pains not to make any noise. I didn't want to startle her and screw this up. Whatever I was getting myself into, it would require treading lightly and using finesse. And those were far from being my dominant qualities.
I stepped inside, scanning my surroundings with one twist of my neck. Kitchen to the left, and the foyer opened up into a living room, most of which was blocked from view. To the right, a hallway went off toward bedrooms. The crying came from up ahead--living room. I walked slowly, with deliberate steps, wanting to be sure I made eye contact with her so she'd know I wasn't there to do any harm. I tried to put on my least intimidating face, toning down my eternal smirk and widening my eyes a bit. Honestly, I wasn't quite sure how to look "nice" or "kind." I just hoped it worked.
And it did. Sort of. I came far enough past the foyer to see into the living room. There was a large man, mostly bald, poorly dressed in jeans and a wife-beater, soaked in blood and sprawled out on the floor. Dead. Definitely dead. And over his corpse, a dark-haired girl who couldn't have been more than twelve bawled her eyes out, pausing only to take notice of my presence. She stared up at me, stunned and wordless. I froze. I saw her eyes dart one direction, then the other. She was going to run. I couldn't have that.
I'd forgotten how fast little kids could be. In one fluid motion, she was up on her feet and zipping across the room, trying to reach the sliding patio door up ahead. I was blocking the front door, so I guess there was no other way out. I immediately dropped my knife and lunged for her with both arms. So much for finesse, right?
I caught her arm with my left hand, and instantly felt bad because I knew it would leave a bruise, as forcefully as I'd latched on. But I didn't have long to ponder it, and she didn't have any time to scream, as something not-quite-Earthly washed over us, and it felt like my entire body was being disintegrated. Nerves burned like I'd been dipped in acid, the world disappeared into a blinding cascade of light, and I gave my last thought to Paul, wondering exactly what he'd find of us in that shitty Echo Park duplex.
Chapter 5
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