Karma City

  KARMA CITY

  BY

  GARDNER M. BROWNING

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

  Copyright © 2019 by Gardner M. Browning

  All rights reserved

  Del Sol Press

  www.delsolpress.org

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  The city is half-dead. The decay is everywhere. Junkies and vagrants occupy once glittering skyscrapers. The waste in the streets thickens the air with the stink of rot. So many people sick, some wishing to die, and those like me who are left to do the killing.

  I was only a kid when I kicked the dust from that dead place off my boots. Though as I wandered the years, I could not separate myself from the home I forever hated. What I lost there so long ago, I refused to abandon.

  After decades of searching, drifting, chancing and fighting, I’m closer to the truth than I’ve ever been. Now, on a train and rolling through the night, there is no choice. I’m heading back to the one place I never wanted to see again...

  Karma City.

  Chapter 1

  Jameson Shoals crouched to keep his balance atop the speeding train. The wind beat against his leather jacket, scattering his collar length, brunet hair over his eyes like a frayed, muddy rag. The scalding steam and smoke puffing from the locomotive singed his nostrils. Raising his shotgun at the attacker standing only a few feet away, he shouted, “You’re in a real heap of shit, pal.”

  The man glared at Jameson, with blond hair framing his gaunt face like tendrils of fire. His spindly legs backed to the edge of the train car roof with unnatural balance. “You should consider your own life,” he hissed. Amber light burned in the man’s hollow, jack-o-lantern eyes. “Detonation is imminent.”

  Before Jameson could shoot, the man leapt from the train, flipping backward and vanishing into the night.

  Jameson dropped back into the passenger car through the rooftop hatch, concerned only about the possible explosive aboard. He found his partner, Luna Briggs, tending to the guard who had been struck unconscious by the strange man moments before.

  Luna tucked a tress of her auburn hair behind her ear and her sea-green eyes met Jameson’s. “Did you get him?”

  “He jumped.”

  “What?”

  “Forget it. We’ve got bigger problems.” Jameson hurried to where the assailant had been sitting and found a shoe-box sized package wedged under the seat. A line of thin wires trailed from a digital timer taped to the top. The timer flashed, warning that a minute and a half remained. Dammit; I can’t see where the wires are going, definitely not touching this. Jameson drew in a breath of courage and called to Luna, “Get ready for an early departure. There’s a bomb!”

  “This train’s heading to Karma City Station! There will be hundreds of people there. We’ve got to disarm it.”

  “Luna, we need to get out of here.” Jameson ran up the narrow aisle, snatching their bags from the overhead rack.

  The guard stirred. His eyes rolled and blood trickled from his forehead. Luna helped him sit up. “Listen to me,” she said sharply. “Call for the engine to stop.”

  Jameson forced open the car’s door and yelled over the train’s grinding wheels. “Luna, let’s go!” The wind grabbed at him. The train raced over a towering trestle spanning the East River. In the distance, a cluster of high-rises raked the stars. The Karma City skyline shined in the night. For Jameson, it felt like a lifetime had passed since he had seen the majesty of Karma, the city of hope. He snorted a wad of phlegm and hocked it over the blur of the rails. Bullshit. The city is a lie.

  The guard lost consciousness again and slumped to his side. Luna took his rifle and bandoleer of rounds and slung them over her shoulder. She rushed to Jameson, gripping him tightly around the waist.

  Jameson felt her trust as surly as he felt the sway of the train. He leaned, timing their escape with the approaching river. “Ready?”

  Luna nodded.

  He held her with all of his strength and jumped.

  The train and trestle erupted in a fiery, deafening blast. The collapsing bridge, hurling twisted iron and burning planks, splashed into the river.

  ***

  Minutes Earlier:

  “You’ve been sitting there for two hours,” said Donna. “Why don’t you take a break?”

  Leaning back in his chair, Jack Halligan rubbed his eyes. The window beside his desk trapped his reflection. His ruffled, coffee-brown hair curled at his ears and hung just enough into his eyes to be irritating. The scratchy stubble shadowing his face, made him look like a panhandler rather than Karma City’s most beloved writer. He still wore a collared shirt, but these days he only buttoned it halfway and rolled up the sleeves. Jack didn’t think his style careless; it was a lack of inspiration that made him ignore the hairbrush and ditch the iron. “It’s hard to take a break when you haven’t accomplished anything. I just can’t think of anything to write.” He pushed himself away from his desk, cursing his illness, and moved across the small living room to join Donna on the couch. “Has it really been two hours?”

  “Yeah,” Donna leaned in and kissed his cheek. “But I don’t mind.” Jack savored the way her soft curls of strawberry hair swept over his nose. Lingering behind the sweet, floral fragrance that all women seemed born with, there was the lively, maple-waffle aroma of the diner that paid her bills. “You should have something to eat. Refuel a bit.” Donna insisted. She went to the small kitchen, opened Jack’s refrigerator and gagged. “Something die in here?”

  Jack chuckled. “I know, I know. My fridge smells.”

  “Yeah,” agreed Donna, pinching her nose. “Like old shoes and armpits. How do you live like this?”

  He snapped his fingers in excitement. “There’s an idea! Karma City is like my fridge.”

  Covering her nose with the collar of her shirt, Donna searched for food. “Is there anything edible in here?”

  “There should be half of a sub.”

  “Found it.” Donna slammed the door and returned to the couch. She handed the wrapped sandwich to Jack. “Now what’s this about Karma and your nasty refrigerator?”

  “Every time I put groceries in there, they come out ruined. Never fails. Things spoil in the blink of an eye. It’s like every newcomer to Karma. They always wind up infected with the Malady parasite.”

  “That’s some comparison.”

  Jack tore away the wrapper and brought the sandwich up to bite. He paused.

  “What’s the matter?” Donna asked.

  “I can’t eat this. It smells like my fridge. You see what I’m talking about? It’s a cursed destiny for any food item that finds its way to my kitchen. Just like the travelers who journey across the Void Lands to this dump. They think that by living in Karma and being closer to Oasis Hospital, they’ll have a better chance at staying Malady free. And let’s not forget Graves Enterprises, lording o
ver the entire city with its mind-numbing street drug, making addicts out of entire neighborhoods! People need to understand that the odds of catching the parasite increase in the big city. Basically, they’re doomed to a rotten life in this festering fridge of a city.” Jack, now boiling with inspiration, carried his spoiled meal to the window near his desk.

  “What are you going to do with the sandwich?”

  “I’m putting it back in ‘the fridge.’”

  He pitched it out the window.

  As if he had tossed a grenade, an explosion from the area of the East River lit up the night, rumbling the buildings. Even in Jack’s sixteenth floor apartment, glasses rattled and dirty dishes fell from the counter, breaking on the floor. A fire raged in the distance.

  Jack and Donna held each other as they watched the orange blaze fill the night sky with smoke that blotted out the stars.

  “What’s going on out there?” Donna whispered.

  “I don’t know, but I bet it’s going to make a great story.”

  ***

  Cracking open his eyes and licking his dried lips, Jameson woke to soft lamplight warming the hospital room’s eggshell walls. The medicinal air reeked of bleach and withering windowsill lilacs. His bed felt as though it pitched and yawed over rolling waters. His body ached. Images of the explosion flickered in his mind like photos scattered in the wind. Luna! The thought of the only person he cared for jolted him from the pillow.

  “Easy does it,” urged a cheerful voice beside Jameson.

  A man with short black hair, curly and unkempt, sat at the bedside sifting through papers. He wore a white lab coat and brown slacks. His tie was pulled loose and his collar unbuttoned. Small glasses, smudged like the clear panels of a bus stop shelter, hung from the tip of his nose.

  “Who are you?” Jameson asked. “Where am I? Where’s Luna?”

  “Oh, good. The three typical concerns patients have when they wake up: names, whereabouts and friends.”

  “Answer me.”

  The man stuffed his papers in a worn satchel. “I’m Dr. Albert Walker. You’re safe in Oasis Hospital. Luna Briggs is fine. She’s in the room across the hall.”

  Oasis Hospital in Karma City. I’ve made it! Got to get Luna and press on. Jameson sat up and tugged at the hospital gown. “Where are my clothes, doc?”

  Albert tapped the face of his wrist watch.

  “My clothes,” Jameson snarled.

  Albert pushed his glasses up the bridge of this nose then pointed to a closet. “Take it slow. You’ve been through a lot. You’ve got some bumps and bruises, but no serious injuries. Your body was worn out from whatever traveling you’ve been doing; needed sleep the most.”

  “My travels aren’t over yet,” grumbled Jameson. “What time is it?” He swung his legs over the edge of the hospital bed. The charts on the walls, surrounding furniture and Albert’s face kaleidoscoped, almost forcing him back to his pillow.

  “It’s early, only five-thirty in the morning; Monday.”

  Jameson pushed away the delirium, yanked out the intravenous tubing from his arm, then staggered to the closet. To his surprise, his clothes were cleaned and mended. His traveling pack hung from a hook on the inner wall. He opened the flap and inventoried the contents. Sawed-off shot gun, Void Land map, hacksaw, rope, flashlight, lighter, cigarettes, knife, ammunition...where is it? He rummaged through the bag for the one possession he valued above every survival item and gave a short sigh when he found it along the bottom seam; a worn photo of his father. He closed his pack and turned to Albert. “Thanks for looking after me. Not sure how I’m going to pay the bill.” He swung the bag over his shoulder.

  “I don’t think any of the others who survived the explosion are going to be able to pay,” added Albert. “And I don’t care if they do or don’t to be honest.”

  “Others? No one else was on the train.”

  “There was a tent town under the bridge along the river bank. Dozens of homeless people infected with Malady. The blast killed quite a few and injured many. We’ve been caring for them in the Malady Ward. Blood tests are mandatory for admission to Oasis Hospital. Oh, and if you’re wondering, you tested negative for the parasite.”

  “I’m not surprised,” said Jameson.

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Forget it.”

  Albert glanced at his watch again. “Boss-lady won’t be in for a while,” he mumbled, then grinned at Jameson. “You seem well enough; time for me to split.”

  “Shift over?”

  “Sure. I’ll go with that.”

  Luna’s combat boots clopped down the hallway. Jameson turned to see her leaning in the doorway. Her hair fell on her shoulders in rusty brown waves partially hiding the deep scaring that marred the right half of her face. The shoulder-strap of the black AR-15 rifle crossed over her bandoleer of rounds. A hardened woman turned mercenary, Luna had stolen Jameson’s heart. Her beauty was like that of a wise lioness—deadly, commanding and alluring.

  He trusted no one more than Luna Briggs. For ten long months, they traveled the Void Lands and left their mark on the smaller settlements beyond Karma. Few endeavored to drift through the lawless wasteland, but the purpose of Jameson’s quest kept him moving and it was Luna who kept him alive. She was more to him than a defender and traveling companion of like mind. Luna inspired him to believe in the possibility of good and beautiful things.

  “I heard your voice,” Luna said to Jameson. “And thought you’d be hungry. Here,” she tossed him a brown paper bag. “Egg sandwich. Eat up. It’s terrible.” She smiled, and the flash of those small dimples sent a current through him that quickened his heart.

  “Thanks.”

  Albert rubbed his hands together. “I do hope you’ve enjoyed your stay in the loving care of Oasis Hospital. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really must be going.”

  Luna put up her hand and blocked the doorway.

  Jameson tore into the paper bag and bit into the sandwich. He spoke with a full mouth. “You’re going to help us out, doc. You see,” he paused to chew and swallow, “We’ve come a long way to get to Oasis Hospital.” He waved the sandwich around as he spoke. “A personal errand of mine, actually. Take me to the records room.”

  “The records room? Why?”

  “I want information on a patient from twenty years ago.”

  “Those files are confidential. That’s a violation of hospital policy.” He checked his watch and shifted his satchel under his arm. “But who cares. I’m going by there anyway. Let’s make it quick. I don’t have a lot of time.”

  Luna moved aside to let the doctor lead the way. “There’s something off about you,” she said. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing. I work the graveyard shift and I need to punch out. That’s all. Overtime is another violation of hospital policy, you understand.”

  “You’re a bad liar.”

  Albert shrugged. “I get that a lot.”

  The rising morning sun lit the wide windows, beaming off the polished floor. Head still aching, Jameson squinted under the brightness as he and Luna followed Dr. Albert Walker down the busy corridors of Oasis.

  “I’ve never been inside this hospital,” remarked Luna to Jameson. “Probably the cleanest place I’ve ever seen.”

  “How about a tour, then?” Albert cracked a sarcastic smile. “I’ll start with the layout of the district, but I’ll skip the East River since you’ve already become so well acquainted with it.”

  “Glad to see you’ve got a sense of humor,” she said. “You ought to try leaping off a bridge sometime.”

  Albert stiffened in response to her gritty tone. He cleared his throat. “Staff and patients are safe here. Oasis is walled off from the Void Lands to the north. It’s big place, three wings, and there’s herb gardens, willow trees, and lily ponds to help with emotional treatment. I’d avoid feeding the koi fish though; they’re little assholes sometimes. Anyway, the hospital is revered for its advances in the prevention of
Malady. Oasis also provides free screening for early detection of the micro-parasite.”

  “Dr. Carmen Victoria still calling the shots?” asked Jameson.

  Albert raised a playful finger, “Hey, was that a pun? It was great. ‘Calling the shots.’ Nice one.”

  Jameson shook his head and let out a calming breath. The scatter-brained doctor was getting on his nerves. He and Luna followed Albert down the halls. Jameson counted the rights and lefts instinctively while Albert blabbered on, obviously enjoying his role of tour-guide.

  “Speaking of shots,” said Albert, “Dr. Victoria’s most acclaimed achievement was the formulation of an inoculation called the Victory Vaccine. It works only in the uninfected and only provides protection against Malady for one year. Second doses are ineffective, as the human immune system then fails to recognize the parasite’s antigens as foreign; regardless, the temporary defense gives people a chance to isolate themselves from the infected population to safeguard their wellness. The Victory Vaccine isn’t a cure, but it gives hope.”

  Karma City residents honored Oasis Hospital but for Jameson, the facility conjured only heartache. He heard the distant murmur of an ill child crying and remembered his own cries of panic, just a boy, running down these very halls in terror and desperation.

  Luna’s hand slipped into his. She knew his struggle and understood his pain; hers was not so different. Luna’s tender grip felt small yet powerful, restoring Jameson’s confidence as if he held a loaded gun.

  Doctors and hospital staff carried folders into patient rooms. One doctor took a moment to ridicule Albert as he passed. “The ASAM team is really excited to hear more about your crack-pot theory.”

  “Laugh it up,” Albert barked. “You’ll all be sorry when the name ‘Walker’ is credited for curing the world.”

  The rival doctor burst with laughter.

  Jameson noticed Albert’s shoulders collapse. “What was that about?” he asked.