Tales from the Street #6 "The lie." In a daze, Rags sat at the picnic table and surveyed the roadside park. The park wasn't bad, really. It seemed the local town folk managed to keep the park respectable despite the gangs and scum that usually congregated in such places. So far they hadn't challenged him, he guessed because it was midday and his behavior wasn't particularly offensive. He ran his hand through his short cropped blonde hair, subconsciously trying to look a little more respectable. The greasy Harley parked by the roadside did much to dispel the illusion. He didn't mind. His girl rode a bike too, a really slick touring machine that was worth a fortune. Much nicer than the wrecked trike she used to insist on riding. She wasn't around at the moment, so he pictured her mentally. Stunningly beautiful, with a fashion model body, grey- green eyes and copious red-brown hair, though she hadn't looked like that when they had fallen in love. Back then, she had been a foot shorter, and not as shapely. And then, she had nearly been killed. They had been running a raid on some government medical research facility for a client when things had gone really wrong. Annika had been wounded, and badly. The bullet had hit her in the back, exiting her left side, and taking her arm off in the process. How she had survived at all was a mystery. The others in the gang had dragged Rags off, saying she was already dead and just didn't know it. The others, except for Tracy. She had been dragged from Annika screaming. He'd hated that. So cold, as if Annika had meant nothing to them. Still, he'd hung with them for the next three months. That was when Annika had shown up again, ready to murder the lot of them for abandoning her. She had changed a lot, sporting this new biotech based body, and riding the megabuck bike. He'd managed to calm her before any serious damage was done, and after that they'd got back together. That had led to the gang breaking up though. Apart from Tracy, Annika's half sister, and himself, the other gangers didn't trust Annika any more. Where had her bike come from? Who had paid for her new body and why? Especially considering she had been shot while they had been breaking and entering a restricted government facility and as such was a criminal. Finding all the communications and tracking gear in the bike hadn't helped either, though the gear had long since been trashed. But Rags and Tracy were convinced beyond doubt that this really was Annika. Her personality, her memories and mannerisms, everything. Even her insistence that she was angry at having her real body stolen, even if it was missing an arm. There was no doubt. This really was Annika. Then why was he sitting here puzzling over it nearly a year later? Because he'd just seen a ghost. Tracy and Annika were off shopping for clothes, sampling what the town had to offer. He'd chosen instead to just wander around, grab some lunch, and just generally waste the day. Then he had seen her, the ghost, just two minutes ago. Just a girl walking along the sidewalk, staring absently into the shop windows, her battered carry-all dragging on the ground behind her. Her face was hidden by her red-brown hair which was cut in a ragged bob. She was Annika's height: Annika's real height. Her left arm was a cheap prosthetic, and visible underneath her poorly fitting tank top Rags caught glimpses of scars in positions corresponding to where Annika had been shot. Staring into the shop windows, she hadn't noticed Rags, so he had walked up beside her, and glanced at her reflection in the glass. Annika's face. She had turned to look at him then, her grey- green eyes searching his face. At that moment Rags had turned and fled around the corner to the park, where he was now sitting, stunned. The girl shuffled around the corner, glancing about. Seeing where Rags had gone, she approached, perhaps a little shyly, but her curiosity and determination winning out. Stopping only a pace from him, she giggled. "Me Anna. You?" Rags' heart jumped. Annika's voice too, though something was desperately amiss. "Dennis Gardiner." Rags muttered, watching for the girl's response. She giggled again with child-like glee, and clapped her hands, before scrambling up onto the picnic table and sitting cross legged atop it, facing him. "Rags! You Rags!" "Yeah. I Rags." he replied. What was going on here? Who the hell was this girl? He felt he knew the answer though. What had happened to her? Why was she behaving like a young child? Brain damage? The shock? And if this really was his Annika, who the hell was the woman he was sleeping with? Rags studied the girl sitting before him, the poorly fitting tank top, the tacky orange miniskirt, the pink polka-dot nylon knickers. No way. Annika had always been a girl with style. Black or red lace. None of this department store trash. But he could see the familiar scar on the inside of her thigh. "Turn around." he mumbled. "Why? Rags play game with Anna?" she bubbled. "Yeah. Play game. Now turn around." Rags insisted, putting his hand on her shoulder. Giggling again, she obliged him. There on her right shoulder was Annika's distinctive birthmark. Rags' mind was screaming now. "Anna show Rags her scars?" he suggested, his speech pattern unconsciously following hers. She turned to face him, peeling off the tank top to reveal the true horrors of her scarring. "Bullet go in back there and come out here." she explained lifting her prosthetic and moving her bra strap to give Rags a better look. It was an ugly scar. Exactly what he would have expected after seeing what Annika's wound had been like. She turned to show him the scar on her back. It was less pronounced, consistent with the entry wound. Facing him again, the girl smiled innocently, almost heedless of her inadequate state of dress. Suddenly, his subconscious taking over, Rags wrapped his arms around the girl, pulled her close and held her tight, burying his face in the hair against her neck. He inhaled deeply, the girl's natural scent bringing memories flooding back. He couldn't stand it any more. What had happened? Had the last year of his life been a lie? What had this poor girl been through? The girl stroked Rags' short hair as he sobbed, holding his head against her chest. "Anna love Rags. Anna so happy she find him again." she whispered. Copyright 1994 by Ken Stone. _____________________________________________________________________/ / _______ _ _______ "Mian" ken.stone@blaze.bbs.net.au /____ \\\\\ / o \ ///// ____\ \_\\\| ^+^ |///_/ Member of #SAS# // \ U / \\ Sasami Appreciation Society _____/ | | \_____ m------ m m ------m Ryoohki-chan _____________________________________________________________________/ / From: ken.stone@blaze.bbs.net.au Date: Tue, 13 Dec 94 21:13:23 Newsgroups: alt.cyberpunk.chatsubo Subject: TALES FROM THE STREET #6 Tales from the Street #6 "The lie." In a daze, Rags sat at the picnic table and surveyed the roadside park. The park wasn't bad, really. It seemed the local town folk managed to keep the park respectable despite the gangs and scum that usually congregated in such places. So far they hadn't challenged him, he guessed because it was midday and his behavior wasn't particularly offensive. He ran his hand through his short cropped blonde hair, subconsciously trying to look a little more respectable. The greasy Harley parked by the roadside did much to dispel the illusion. He didn't mind. His girl rode a bike too, a really slick touring machine that was worth a fortune. Much nicer than the wrecked trike she used to insist on riding. She wasn't around at the moment, so he pictured her mentally. Stunningly beautiful, with a fashion model body, grey- green eyes and copious red-brown hair, though she hadn't looked like that when they had fallen in love. Back then, she had been a foot shorter, and not as shapely. And then, she had nearly been killed. They had been running a raid on some government medical research facility for a client when things had gone really wrong. Annika had been wounded, and badly. The bullet had hit her in the back, exiting her left side, and taking her arm off in the process. How she had survived at all was a mystery. The others in the gang had dragged Rags off, saying she was already dead and just didn't know it. The others, except for Tracy. She had been dragged from Annika screaming. He'd hated that. So cold, as if Annika had meant nothing to them. Still, he'd hung with them for the next three months. That was when Annika had shown up again, ready to murder the lot of them for abandoning her. She had changed a lot, sporting this new biotech based body, and riding the megabuck bike. He'd managed to calm her before any serious damage was done, and after that they'd got back together. That had led to the gang breaking up though. Apart from Tracy, Annika's half sister, and himself, the other gangers didn't trust Annika any more. Where had her bike come from? Who had paid for her new body and why? Especially considering she had been shot while they had been breaking and entering a restricted government facility and as such was a criminal. Finding all the communications and tracking gear in the bike hadn't helped either, though the gear had long since been trashed. But Rags and Tracy were convinced beyond doubt that this really was Annika. Her personality, her memories and mannerisms, everything. Even her insistence that she was angry at having her real body stolen, even if it was missing an arm. There was no doubt. This really was Annika. Then why was he sitting here puzzling over it nearly a year later? Because he'd just seen a ghost. Tracy and Annika were off shopping for clothes, sampling what the town had to offer. He'd chosen instead to just wander around, grab some lunch, and just generally waste the day. Then he had seen her, the ghost, just two minutes ago. Just a girl walking along the sidewalk, staring absently into the shop windows, her battered carry-all dragging on the ground behind her. Her face was hidden by her red-brown hair which was cut in a ragged bob. She was Annika's height: Annika's real height. Her left arm was a cheap prosthetic, and visible underneath her poorly fitting tank top Rags caught glimpses of scars in positions corresponding to where Annika had been shot. Staring into the shop windows, she hadn't noticed Rags, so he had walked up beside her, and glanced at her reflection in the glass. Annika's face. She had turned to look at him then, her grey- green eyes searching his face. At that moment Rags had turned and fled around the corner to the park, where he was now sitting, stunned. The girl shuffled around the corner, glancing about. Seeing where Rags had gone, she approached, perhaps a little shyly, but her curiosity and determination winning out. Stopping only a pace from him, she giggled. "Me Anna. You?" Rags' heart jumped. Annika's voice too, though something was desperately amiss. "Dennis Gardiner." Rags muttered, watching for the girl's response. She giggled again with child-like glee, and clapped her hands, before scrambling up onto the picnic table and sitting cross legged atop it, facing him. "Rags! You Rags!" "Yeah. I Rags." he replied. What was going on here? Who the hell was this girl? He felt he knew the answer though. What had happened to her? Why was she behaving like a young child? Brain damage? The shock? And if this really was his Annika, who the hell was the woman he was sleeping with? Rags studied the girl sitting before him, the poorly fitting tank top, the tacky orange miniskirt, the pink polka-dot nylon knickers. No way. Annika had always been a girl with style. Black or red lace. None of this department store trash. But he could see the familiar scar on the inside of her thigh. "Turn around." he mumbled. "Why? Rags play game with Anna?" she bubbled. "Yeah. Play game. Now turn around." Rags insisted, putting his hand on her shoulder. Giggling again, she obliged him. There on her right shoulder was Annika's distinctive birthmark. Rags' mind was screaming now. "Anna show Rags her scars?" he suggested, his speech pattern unconsciously following hers. She turned to face him, peeling off the tank top to reveal the true horrors of her scarring. "Bullet go in back there and come out here." she explained lifting her prosthetic and moving her bra strap to give Rags a better look. It was an ugly scar. Exactly what he would have expected after seeing what Annika's wound had been like. She turned to show him the scar on her back. It was less pronounced, consistent with the entry wound. Facing him again, the girl smiled innocently, almost heedless of her inadequate state of dress. Suddenly, his subconscious taking over, Rags wrapped his arms around the girl, pulled her close and held her tight, burying his face in the hair against her neck. He inhaled deeply, the girl's natural scent bringing memories flooding back. He couldn't stand it any more. What had happened? Had the last year of his life been a lie? What had this poor girl been through? The girl stroked Rags' short hair as he sobbed, holding his head against her chest. "Anna love Rags. Anna so happy she find him again." she whispered. Copyright 1994 by Ken Stone.