BACKTRACKER by Milo Fowler (e book reader txt) 📕

She squinted in the glow of a single bulb dangling from theceiling of the supply closet. Instead of storage crates, this one held whatappeared to be large bottles of cleaning solution, mops, buckets—and two greyjumpsuits hanging from a rod with two pairs of black work boots below. Time fora change of wardrobe?

She tugged down one of the jumpsuits and stepped into the looselegs, tucked her arms into the baggy sleeves, zipped up the front to thecollar. It was too big for her and the material was rough against her skin, butnone of that mattered. Fewer questions would be asked if she came across any ofthe rail workers; and if she was lucky, they would ignore her completely. Sheslipped her numb toes into the smaller pair of boots and laced them up. Alsotoo big, they would likely chafe her ankles, but that didn't matter either.

Moments later, she was back in the tunnel with the glow stripspassing between her strides, jogging faster now, knowing that Cade was alreadyahead of her. It wouldn't take him long to obey his creator's command.

Cade...a SYN. How could that be true?

She remembered the first time she'd met him, a dark night two longweeks after Harry's disappearance. She'd gone out for the first time, out ofthe apartment, walking aimlessly for no other reason than to confirm that lifeas she'd known it still existed for everyone else. There had been an alley anda knife-wielding ghoul too strung-out to know whether he was plugged in or not,living a virtual fantasy in the flesh. He'd attacked her, dragged her into thealley by her hair. She'd fought him, gouged out his eye, kicked his genitals topulp. No effect. He was too far gone. He would have killed her if Cade hadn'tappeared like a guardian angel in white.

He'd drawn his sword with the silent stoicism of an executionerand sliced the ghoul's arm in two. The hand gripping her hair dropped to thecold pavement, along with its forearm. The ghoul stared down at it, transfixed,not seeming to understand that it belonged to him. Blood poured thick and blackunder the moonlight from his amputated elbow.

"Leave us." Cade's voice had been calm as he wiped theblade of his sword clean. "Now."

The ghoul staggered away without his severed arm, mumbling tohimself, and Irena thanked her rescuer profusely, intrigued by hisappearance, unable to categorize him. She'd never seen a Way-following monkwield a blade with such training and skill. For that matter, she'd never seenanyone outside of the Link's virtual games carry such a weapon at all. Sheasked him who he was.

"I am Cade, your protector."

She'd balked at that, backing away, feeling insulted. I cantake care of myself, thank you.

"Your husband sent me. To watch over you in hisabsence." He'd slipped his blade into the spacious sleeve of his robe,tucking his hands across his midsection. There he stood, staring at her like a humbleservant awaiting his next assignment.

But if what her father said was true, then it had been a lie. IfCade was one of his synthetic creations, then it had been Horton, not Harry,who'd sent Cade to watchover her. Not that she needed him—she'd made itabundantly clear from the start. That night with the ghoul was a rareoccurrence. Cade merely nodded, accepting whatever she told him from that pointon.

At first, he'd called her Mrs. Muldoon, but she insistedthat he use her first name. It hadn't come to him naturally, but he adapted.And she'd adapted to his presence in her life, sitting cross-legged in ameditative pose outside the door of her apartment throughout the night, seemingto sleep with his eyes open, always alert to any disturbance, no matter howslight. Most often, just a little girl bouncing a rubber ball down the hallwayfrom their unit.

Months passed, and she'd eventually let him in. Now, years later,he spent the nights sitting on the floor just inside her front door. He refusedto sleep on the couch, which she had offered to him multiple times beforegiving up. He was a man set in his ways.

He spent his days aiding her in the search for her husband in anyway he could. He prayed with her, having succeeded in converting her to the Wayafter many long nights of intense metaphysical discussions. Because of hisinfluence, she'd finally agreed to have her plug removed, eliminating instantaccess to the Link and all of its virtual vices. It had taken time, but Cadebecame her friend.

A SYN? It wasn't possible. He was so human.

Strange sounds assaulted her ears as she became aware of changesall around her. More light, more rails, subway trains sitting idle on thetracks, either out of commission or waiting their turn to carry commuters athigh velocities. She walked in their shadows. A computer-generated voice madeannouncements over loudspeakers above the din of what sounded like a murmuringmultitude.

She had arrived: The NewCity central train station, where she would findHarry. And Cade.

"You there!" A large silhouette with a wrench in onehand stepped out from behind a stationary subway car. He wore the same sort ofjumpsuit she did. "Give me a hand here."

She blinked against the light behind him, unable to see his face.She didn't stop.

"I'm sorry." I'm no mechanic. Her abdominalmuscles tightened. She couldn't let anything, anyone, slow her down. But shecouldn't cause a scene, either. The last thing she wanted right now was toattract any attention. "I'm in a hurry—"

"Yeah? So am I! This thing ain't goin' anywhere if we don'tfigure out what's jamming up the works. There's a schedule to keep, don't you know it."Using the wrench to scratch the back of his clean-shaven head, the silhouettelumbered toward her. "Hey, do I know you?"

No. And that's the way it was meant to be. The way it would havebeen, had she never backtracked Cade to this moment in time.

She kept walking, past the dark figure, on to the central terminalabove the tracks.

"Get your ass over here!" he called after her. "Whodo you think you are?"

She broke into a jog, then a run. She didn't look back.