Lise, DM Arnold [bearly read books .TXT] 📗

street.”

“Lise -- where did you get that?”

“From Ms Ramina. They're my wages from the past two pay periods. She no longer owns me.”

“Ramina sold you?”

“Yes -- to Novonid Rescue.”

“I have never heard of them.”

“I'm free, Mother. Novonid Rescue lets us live free lives. Oh, Mother! It's too good to be true.”

“When something's too good to be true ... it usually isn't.”

“Time will tell. Tomorrow's another pay period and Megan will pay me. Me, mother -- not Ramina or some broker. I'll have nearly three hundred.”

“I've never seen so much,” Rayla replied. “We should find a safe place to hide it.”

“Where's Tagg?”

“He went out -- I don't know where to.”

“How's his back?”

“It's healing. He'll have some scars, I'm afraid. Grott told him in some quarters scars like his would earn him some respect.”

“I can't wait to tell him.”

“I'd hold off telling Tagg if I were you. Since his incident at work, he's changed.”

“Changed? How?”

“He's been saying things that worry me.”

“What sorts of things?”

“Nasty things about whites ... about settling the score. Three hundred could buy a weapon, Lise. I'd keep it quiet.”

“Mother -- Tagg's not like that. He wouldn't hurt anyone.”

“I'd be careful. You think you know someone, but you never truly do. I've been with Grott for longer than I remember, and at times he's a stranger to me.”

Lise lay on the concrete bench in the courtyard looking up at the yellow haze of the night sky, illuminated by the reflected light of streetlamps as her mother washed between her legs.

“It was nice having you on rounds with me,” Rayla said.

“I hate it,” Lise replied. “I hate this place. I hate the Zone. One of these days I'm going to rent my own apartment and move out of here. I'll have you and Father come live with me. No more damp, musty basement with smelly greaselamps. No more making rounds.”

“Don't get your hopes up, Lise. It costs more than a hundred units per pay period for an apartment. For one that's better than what we have, at least. This one doesn't cost us a thing.” Her mother dabbed her privates with a towel.

Lise stood and wrapped the towel around her waist as Rayla exchanged places and rolled open her legs. “Gently, Lise...”

“I'm sorry, Mother. It makes me angry. I want to get every last bit of those filthy men out of you... Why should we do this, Mother?”

“To keep the peace. Men need satisfaction, else they become frustrated...”

“Which leads to anger which leads to rage which leads to violence. I've heard the litany, Mother. It was a man who said it. The agreement to share the women was made among the men, wasn't it?”

Rayla wrapped her towel around her waist. “You're beginning to sound like Tagg. And, you've seen white life. You're getting the white man's disease, wanting comfort -- wanting what we don't need.”

“You're beginning to sound like Grott.”

“Sound like what?” Grott asked.

“Nothing,” Rayla replied. “We were just having a talk.”

“Where's Tagg?” Lise asked.

“Still out.” Electronic chimes reverberated off the buildings. “There's the warning -- Curfew soon.”

“We'll have to keep the door unbarred for Tagg.”

Lise stepped into her bedroom and pulled closed the sheet. She undressed and lay, prone on her mattress. The smell of rotting fabric from moisture seeping through the bare concrete floor filled her nostrils and revolted her. She lay on her back and locked her fingers behind her neck.

Footfalls sounded on the steps. She sat up. “Tagg?”

“It's me, Lise.”

“Bar the door, Tagg.” She heard the steel beam drop into its brackets.

Tagg pulled open the sheet. He was carrying a greaselamp and held it so it illuminated her. “You're beautiful, Lise.”

He set down the lamp, stripped off his shorts and dove onto the mattress.

“No, Tagg -- I'm not in the mood.”

“I am!”

Lise struggled. Tagg kissed her and forced his tongue between her lips. She wrenched her face from his. He kissed her neck and between her breasts.

“No, Tagg, don't...” She folded her arms across her chest. Tagg pushed her onto the mattress. “I'll cry out,” she hissed. “Grott will stop you!”

He threw his weight against her, pinning her to the mattress and clasped one hand across her mouth. Then, he worked his other hand under her arm, cupped it over her breast and began a deep massage.

She stopped her struggle. Her body relaxed. Anger drained from her. Tagg looked into her eyes. “You won't cry out... Yes, green girl. You're mine.”

He ran his hands along her body, fondled her breasts and caressed the insides of her thighs. Lise closed her eyes and rolled her head to one side.

Tagg grasped her knees and spread them. He lay upon her and she held him across his back as he pressed his hips against hers. Grunting, he increased the force of his thrusting.

Lise felt Tagg's climax. Then, spent, he rolled off her and onto his back. “I feel like a man tonight, Lise. I proved it -- I am a man.”

“For conquering a woman? I don't think so, Tagg. Before -- you had my heart and I gave you my body. Tonight wasn't love, it was power. It doesn't make you a man.”

“No -- I feel like a man because I'm doing a man's work. I spent the whole day down by the old hotel, with Mott's group. They admire my scars, Lise. Mott was there tonight. He told us what good work we're doing, and how this strike will change the way whites treat us. We're a force to be reckoned with.”

“Tagg... This isn't right.”

“It's not the right way, Lise -- it's the only way.”

“But what about your art?”

“My art.” He snorted. “Since when did pictures change anything? Art is nothing. This is something. Tomorrow I distribute strike chains -- at the factories in Quadrant Four. Here...” He pulled a chain from his pocket. “Not too many links left. Think of it -- the farms go out, and Vyonna shuts down. That restaurant ... they can't stay open without us, not without someone to bus tables, cook food and sweep floors. Tomorrow night I'm bringing you to the meeting with me.”

“I'm not going, Tagg.”

“Oh, yes you are. Some men bring their women and share them. Wait'll they see you, Lise. Maybe I'll share you with Mott himself. It'll put me in solid with him.”

“I am not doing that!”

“You go on rounds. It's the same thing.”

“Did you come here fresh from sharing someone's wife?”

“Oh, Lise -- she was withered from bearing so many children, and pregnant with another. She only whetted my appetite for you.” He grabbed for her.

Lise slapped his face. “I don't know who you are any more, Tagg. You'd better get out of here.”

“Lise! I have every right to be here.”

“No you don't. You're a guest here and you had better remember that. I don't know what sorts of things this Mott tells you, but he's turning your head inside-out. You'd better leave - - go back to your gang at the old hotel and stay there until you get your priorities straight.”

“Lise... Lise ... I'm sorry. You're right.”

“I don't find any of it appealing or sexy, Tagg. It's all swagger. There's no courage in what you're doing.”

“But the strike...”

“What of it? You go ahead with your strike and when it fails maybe you and all the others will see how foolish this was.”

“No, Lise. You wait. It won't fail. It'll be glorious.”

“It'll be a disaster.”

Lise slipped into her shorts and bandeau and headed for the steps. “Lise,” her mother called.

“Yes?”

“Is Tagg here?”

She rolled her eyes. “No -- he went out early to the factories here in this quadrant ... to distribute strike chains.”

“Did you two have an argument last night?”

“Of sorts.”

“I thought so. Grott wanted to intervene but I told him lovers quarrel and need to resolve things on their own.”

“I don't know, Mother. I don't know what's gotten into Tagg ... all this rhetoric from Mott. He has them believing they'll change Varada.”

“I fear they will,” Rayla replied, “but I don't think in the way they intend.”

XIII

Lise sat cross-legged on the floor at number 505. The door opened and Megan stepped in. Lise stood and Megan approached and opened her arms.

“You're a good hugger, Megan,” Lise said.

“Lise... What's this I hear of a green strike?”

“I'm afraid it's true,” Lise replied. “In a few days.”

“What's a green strike?” Klarissa asked.

“A strike is when a group of workers refuse to show up at their jobs,” Megan explained.

“Green means it'll be novonids who won't be working,” Lise added.

“Lise ... does that mean you won't be coming?”

“I'm not striking. I think it's wrong and I think it'll hurt us.”

“Well, my factory doesn't use novonids. They're old-fashioned that way, I guess, so we won't be affected. Not at first, at least. If some of our suppliers stay shut for long, there may be furloughs.”

“I'll be here, Megan.”

“Lise -- don't do anything to expose yourself to danger. Sometimes these strikes can get nasty.”

“I'll be careful.” She knelt and hugged the twins. “See you tomorrow, gang.”

“Not tomorrow,” Megan replied. “Tomorrow's a rest day.”

“Awww...” Klarissa pouted.

“Then the day after.”

Lise walked to the corner. She had developed the habit of looking around for Thom loitering but saw no sign of him. She hopped onto the platform of her bus and rode into downtown Vyonna, where she changed to one heading toward the Zone.

She walked into the courtyard. A crowd of novonid men, women and some adolescent boys were grouped around something. She approached and saw a white man lying on the concrete, dead. His skull had been split open.

“Bounty hunter,” one of them said. “Trann spotted him.”

“I took care of him with this,” another green man replied. He held up a length of iron pipe, filled with polycrete.

Grott pushed his way through the crowd. “He was headed for your place, Grott. He had this.” Trann held out a handgun.

Grott took the gun and emptied its magazine into the grate of a catch-basin. Then he propped the weapon against a concrete block. He took Trann's truncheon, lifted it and brought it down on the gun's barrel with enough force to bend it into a U.

“Hey -- what did you do that for?” Trann protested. “That was worth scrip!”

“We don't need any more guns in the Zone,” Grott replied.

Lise knelt by the dead man and withdrew his mediascreen. She pressed a button and the screen illuminated. “Look! This is Tagg's number!”

“Tagg has a bounty on him?” Grott asked. “Does it say how much?”

“No,” Lise replied.

“Must be a big one,” Trann replied, “for a bounty hunter to risk coming into the Zone.”

Grott tucked the man's gun into his waistband. and lifted his shoulders. “Trann -- help me carry him into the tunnel. We'll leave him there until after curfew. Then, we'll dump him onto the street.”

Lise turned and started running toward the gate leading outside the Zone. “Where are you going?” Grott yelled after her.

“Tagg has a bounty on him! I'm going to do something about it!”

She waited at the corner for one of the inbound busses and hopped onto the platform. The bus jostled her as it followed the dilapidated streets past the foundries, brickyards and scrap- metal works in Quadrant Four north of the Zone. She saw the promontory ahead. The bus started into the curve. She pressed the stop request. The bus kept going.

She pounded the stop request and realized it must be broken. “Hey!” she yelled, pounding the rear window. “Stop! Stop the bus!”

A white passenger turned and regarded her, then pressed the stop request inside the coach. The driver pulled to the curb. Lise hopped off and sprinted two long blocks to the steps leading up to Thom's house.

She rang his bell. The door opened “Thom! You have to help me!”

“Help you? How.”

“It's Tagg. We have to rescue him -- buy him.”

“Buy him?”

“Yes -- for Novonid Rescue. He's been declared renegade with a bounty on his head. You have to buy him and remove the bounty.”

“Slow down, Lise. Tell me what