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  Margot thought for a moment. “I always saw you as a dragon, of sorts. I thought I was just being racist.” She smiled wide, amused at her joke. “What about boyfriends and girlfriends? Can't have just been Thom the whole time.”

  “Oh, no, never Thom. That's not how we are. He's more like a pet than anything else. And, if I were to be a little too honest for my taste, I'd admit there hasn't been anyone since Charlie, up until a couple days ago, and that's not really a relationship. It's just for fun. Or, at least, it was.” Portland let her face slip into a gentle melancholy. She had been holding that in for a long time, and it was weird and somewhat saddening to hear it out loud. She had always told herself she wasn't lonely, even if she was alone, but she had been feeling lonely recently. All of this was making her realize how much she actually missed Charlie. Even if she had been a crazy bitch, she was Portland's crazy bitch, and that worked well, at the time.

  Margot was almost alarmed by the look on Portland's face. She could tell the girl had been sad, but this was more than she had expected. Gears turned, and she started planning out some machinations. This would not stand, not for her dear little Portland.

  “So, I know you didn't come out here just to catch up and flirt with me. What brings you out this way, Sweet Portland?”

  Areas activated again, and Portland toyed with the idea of shutting that stuff down, if it was going to keep doing that to her. But, to be fair, it had never failed to do that to her when she was called “Sweet Portland” by Margot Becker, long before she ever had a robot body.

  “Well, Miss B, you know Hayley Acero?”

  “Not Biblically, but yeah. Her mother's in my book club, and we went over there just yesterday to talk about prosthetic stuff.” She had cocked her head such a small amount that Portland almost didn't notice. She may not have noticed at all, if it hadn't made her look like some kind of cartoon character.

  “Hmm... I do...” Portland started, thinking it would be a funny joke, then realizing it wasn't much of a joke if it was true. She quickly pivoted her train of thought. “I think she's been taken by someone.”

  Margot's face expressed some shock, which was quickly overtaken by a worried expression.

  “By 'taken' I assume you mean abducted. And not by aliens or lizard people.”

  “Well, I can't say for sure, but I..., yes, abducted. From my apartment last night, by people who had a cattle prod, which means they were expecting me to be there, and they probably know who I am.” Portland had just realized that her being the main target and Hayley being collateral damage was back on the table, since she had not, until saying it out loud, just now, considered the importance of them being prepared with a cattle prod. “We haven't told her parents, yet. I hope we can have a little time to try to find her, before we have to alert her parents and make them worry.”

  “Oh, but I really should tell them. Marianne is a good friend of mine, and it wouldn't be right to know her daughter is missing and not say anything to her. And the sooner the police are involved, the better chance they have of finding her.”

  “I agree, Miss B, but please give me twenty-four hours to fix this, first. As you may remember, I was always the kind of person who got what she wanted, right?” Margot nodded. “I have, if anything, become much more accustomed to getting what I want, and right now, I want to find and kill some kidnapping motherfuckers. This town's not so big, and I have a pretty vast web of contacts. Once I get on the path, it should domino straight downhill from there, but if the cops get involved, I will not have my fun with some people who clearly need to have the fun I have in mind.” She watched Margot for any signs that she was going too far, but Margot looked as intent on seeing Portland's fun come to fruition as Portland, herself, was.

  “So, I came here, because I don't have a contact number for you or Charlie, and you have both been in contact with Hayley in the past couple of days. I'm starting with you two, then branching out. I hope to have her found and returned by this time tomorrow, although sooner is better, obviously.”

  Margot held her phone up to Portland, who leaned in close, made a few mental taps, and accepted the transfer. She took the whole contact list, just in case. After all, everyone in Margot's contacts could have come into contact with Hayley at some point recently. It was not a long list, although it had grown by one before Portland leaned out and thanked her.

  “No problem at all. I hope you give those bastards the time of their lives.” She was scowling, but not really at anyone in particular.

  “When I get Hayley back, you'll be the...” Portland tried to count it out, couldn't decide if she should count herself, as well, then gave up. “One of the first ones to know.”

  Margot rose from the table and walked behind Portland, who was still seated. She leaned down, wrapping her arms around Portland's neck and shoulders. “When this is all over, come by and see me again.” She paused for a second. “And Charlie.” She kissed Portland on the cheek and nuzzled her head into Portland's neck. “Be safe out there, but most of all, get them.”

  Portland smiled and rose up from the seat, letting Margot's arms melt away from her neck. “I will. All three. And then some.” She thanked Margot and headed out, while Margot followed her and watched her leave from the front door. It felt good to catch up, and to know that she had someone else out there who was on her side. It had been too long, and she vowed to not let it ever get that long again. And, she felt foolish as hell crawling her way down the driveway in her absurd car, wondering if Margot was watching her the whole way down. But, once she was back on pavement, all of that washed away and she could enjoy the car again. Ninety percent awesome, ten percent shoot myself in the fucking head. Some days it was more worth it than others, and Portland couldn't tell which it was, today.

  Leaving the farmhouse, Portland really didn't know where to go next. She had been trying to decide what she was going to do with the information she would get from Margot, and, now that she had it, she had no idea how to use it to help find Hayley. Scrolling through the list she saw all the names she expected to see, including Hayley's mother's name, Charlie's name, Tanya's and a separate contact for Tanya's husband. She winced when she scrolled past Harold Becker's name, and felt guilty. She had gotten rid of people's numbers over the years, discarding them in pairs and bushels as she got new phones, but Margot had kept a contact for her husband, who had been dead for the better part of the last decade. A rare moment of introspection, a quick swerve around a driverless car going the ridiculously low speed limit on this road, and Portland was questioning herself and her behavior, for the first time in a long time. Then she popped open a settings menu, and rearranged the contact list alphabetically, because it was driving her nuts being out of order. She sighed in relief, and scrolled again, from the top, all the way down to Thom's name. There was one contact that she didn't realize she knew on the first pass, and after scrolling back up to it, she could hardly believe she was reading it correctly. Tyler Lucia had hired Portland, way back when, to track a girlfriend he was certain was cheating on him. He, if she remembered correctly, which she always did, had paid the half up front, and, when he was too “emotionally devastated” after her findings, had conveniently forgotten to pay the rest. Tyler was a garbage human, but he was connected like crazy. Whether it was a result of his former job, or an effect of his current hobbies, Portland didn't know, but the guy knew everybody. She doubted she'd get much information from him, but it was as good a place to start as any, and he did owe her money. “Isseki nicho.” She cracked a smile.

  After two rings, the call was answered. “Hullo?”

  “Tyler?” She waited for his hesitant, 'yes.' “Tyler, Darling, it's me, Portland.” She could practically hear him sweating. “Where are you? I'm coming by.”

  “Oh, it's, uh, good to hear from you. Been too long. Now's not really a good time.” He sounded like he was knocking things over, huffing and wheezing. Portland imagined him in a dark, dirty apartment. No doubt squatting, and she could almos
t smell the too-heavy perfume of the scab-covered girl that was, almost without a doubt, passed out somewhere near Tyler. Maybe it was her apartment, maybe not. Tyler always had at least one hanging around, and they almost always were regular people before they got involved with Tyler.

  “Tyler, who's the girl?” Portland was poking, just for fun, but any information could be leverage. Leverage was wealth, even more than money was.

  Tyler coughed, then coughed some more. He sounded like he couldn't clear his throat, and it made his voice pinched and warbly, like a bird under water. Which he was, as far as Portland was concerned. “She's nobody, really, please, I need more time.”

  “Give me her name, her real name, and it'll buy you some time.”

  “It's..., oh god, please, I'll pay you, I mean it, I just lost track of time.” Portland heard a door slam shut, and she could hear his hard-soled shoes clomping down metal stairs.

  “Name. Now. Don't make this any worse for yourself.” She wouldn't really hurt him, not for a little bit of money. That was just tacky, but he was kind of a piece of shit, and she was surprised to see his name in Margot's contacts. Maybe he was connected to Charlie, or even Hayley. He could have turned her over to someone for any number of reasons, drugs not being the least of them.

  “It's Janice. Janice Bookmen. Please don't hurt her, or me. I'll get you the money.” Portland had never heard of her, but she made a note of the name, anyway, just in case.

  “Okay. You bought yourself some time. I want to see you in fifteen minutes. Tell me where you are.”

  “Fifteen minutes?” He sounded like he was running. What the hell was he doing? Did he think she could track him, or something? I'm not the NSA, for fuck's sake. “You gotta give me more time. I need to see a friend. He owes me some money, a paycheck from work. I just need to get it from him, then I can pay you back.”

  This had quickly grown boring for Portland, and she wasn't above letting it be heard in her voice. “Fuck your money. Fifteen minutes, tell me where you are, or where you will be when I get there in fifteen minutes, or it's going to be a lot more than money you'll have to worry about.” She waited, listening to his panting. He had stopped running, and Portland could imagine him bending over, hands on his knees, drool stringing out of his idiot mouth, on the verge of vomiting.

  “Courtyard... The courtyard, Morning Light Apartments, downtown.” Oh god, did he only make it down the stairs and out into the courtyard before dying from the exertion?

  “That's not downtown. That's wishful thinking. I'll be there in ten minutes. Don't move.” She was already half-way there anyway, it wouldn't even be ten minutes before she would arrive.

  She pulled up in the parking lot of the apartment complex and shook her head. The complex was assembled in an array of almost perfect replicas of an apartment building she had seen in pictures from Pripyat. Trash blew by in the gentle breeze and Portland wrinkled her nose. She rounded a building, squeezed through the narrow passageway between one poorly plotted building and its equally bad neighbor, and found herself in the courtyard. Across the dead, dying, and gone-to-heaven-long-ago grass she saw, laying face-up, the shirtless, skeletal remains of what used to be a gainfully employed boy named Tyler Lucia. As she approached, he started, and sat up on his elbows.

  “You,” She knelt down to him, “look like shit.”

  He blocked the sun with his bruised, scabbed-over, tattooed hand and smiled, revealing a shortage of teeth. “Portland. You caught me. Whatcha gonna do to me?” He was smiling, but he looked scared.

  “I'm going to ask you questions, and I haven't decided beyond that. It goes well, we'll see. It goes bad, and I have a few ideas that you'll be happy to not hear spoken aloud.” She flicked his forehead, just above his hand-shield, and he snapped his face away.

  “First: How do you know Margot Becker?”

  Tyler squinted against the sun. “Never heard of her.”

  Portland looked disappointed. She sighed. She leaned toward him. She raised a hand, but did not bring it down. “Never?”

  Tyler looked at the raised hand. He saw no good result coming from obstination, but he was what he was, and she was what she was. The world couldn't change them, any more than they could change the world. “Never.”

  Her hand landed with a sharp thwack on his chest. He caved backward and wheezed.

  “Damn. That was stupid. Now, Margot Becker?”

  He looked at her raised hand, this time thinking, what's the harm in answering? “I met her at some function a while back. Gave her my number to give to her pretty little daughter. I liked her robot arm, just like this one girl down at The Junkyard. Hoo, she do things with that arm, make you blush. I swear.”

  The Junkyard was a vile place, in Portland's view. Poor plastics degrading themselves for money. It made Portland half-sad, half-angry. Sad that they did it, but angry at them for doing it. It's not like they couldn't do, literally, anything else. “You go there a lot, huh?” She looked into his lying eyes, the eyes of a junkie, all the same eyes she had seen far too often for her comfort.

  “Nawh, not too much, really. Haven't been in forever.” Yep, he was lying, and you couldn't trust a damn word out of his mouth, but Portland figured she would give it a shot. She pulled out a phone, from where Tyler couldn't tell, and Portland would never tell. She pointed it at his face.

  “You see this girl around? Maybe with someone, maybe not?” She watched for ticks, but he had so many, he was completely unreadable.

  “Yeah, sure, I seen her. What's that get me?” He was sitting up, not exposing his chest for fear of getting smacked again. It didn't hurt that bad, but he wasn't going to let Portland know that.

  She raised her hand, anyway, and Tyler had to consider where it would land next time, if not on his chest, and he regretted sitting up. “Are you lying? Where'd you see her, then, if you're not?”

  “Swear it. Don't hit me.” He winced, like he expected to get hit, and opened his eyes when the hit didn't come. “I seen her down at The Junkyard, just, like a week ago. Hanging out with some guy. He was real interested in the stage show, but she kept looking away, and kept meeting eyes with me. It was real hot. I tried to talk to her, but the guy was being an asshole, and wouldn't let me get near her.”

  It was hard to imagine that going off the testimony of the least reliable person Portland had ever known would yield positive results, but it was somewhat possible. Hayley had been researching the prosthesis industry in several different forms, she could have had someone take her there, too. It was unpleasant to think about, but that was largely based on Portland's opinion of the place and its employees, and opinions aren't facts. Who knows, maybe he wasn't lying, for once.

  “So, like I said, what's that get me?” He was looking agitated, which just served to exaggerate his thin, sick body, with its dying, desiccated flesh.

  “Fucked is what it gets you, if you're lying. Less if you're not.” She stood up to leave, and he fell to the ground and grabbed at her ankle. He wouldn't let go.

  “Hey, that's gotta be worth something, look of that girl, I'd say it's worth more than what I owed you, right? Come on, gimme something for my trouble. I mean, I came all the way down here for you. Something for my girl, maybe.”

  Portland pulled out a stack of cash, rolled and banded together, that could have been in her pocket the whole time, but it wasn't and she would never tell where it came from. She dropped it in the dirt and kicked it across the courtyard. “Buy enough to finish the job, at least. Stop doing things half-assed.” She walked away and heard him scrabbling across the dirt. She was willing to concede that it could be considered murder, even if she didn't pull the trigger. She just didn't care.

  Thom was going to love this, though, if it was anything like his last visit to The Junkyard. And she did greatly enjoy messing with Thom. So, there was a little bit of a lining to this dark cloud of a day, and if it helped them find Hayley before the cops had to get involved, then all the better. She had a change of mind,
then, about her outfit. She was going to need a stronger presence, even if nobody but her got it. So, she was going to have to go home, first, before heading over to Thom's. Daylight was burning, but it could be a long night, and she wanted to be prepared.

  Chapter 16: The Junkyard

  Thom thought he was worried after getting the call from Portland, but now, seeing her at the door, he started to know what true worry was. She was wearing her black body suit, under a small tan jacket that looked like she got it from the kid's section of a thrift store, along with her custom boots, knee-high, yellow-tan, nylon jobs with metal knee-pads, that she only wore on special occasions. She had decorated her face with dripping crimson eye-black, a cosplay of a sort, or more like her spirit animal for war. This was almost guaranteed to mean that Thom would be dragged into some kind of hellish scenario that would scar him for life. The last time she had dressed up like this, they started their evening at The Junkyard, a creepy strip-club for plastics, where they expose a little too much for Thom's comfort. That night they had ended up in a bunker beneath a barn on an abandoned farm, where some sick bastard had been torturing, defiling, and dismembering plastics. Thankfully, they were blanks with barebones OS, but it was still so gross, Thom had never really recovered.

  Portland pushed her way inside. “Get your shit together. Literally and figuratively. We're going to The Junkyard.”

  Thom's eyes watered, and he felt the saliva welling up in his mouth. He began to choke. Dry heaves wracked his body. He never wanted to be within a mile of that place, ever again. He tried to double over, but Portland held him up.

  “Hayley may have been hanging out there with some guy, so it's a good start. If she has ever been there, someone would have noticed her. Of that I am certain.”