27

It's 2:16 according to your knockoff Panerai when you pull out of Covenant Pawn Shop in your new Mitsubishi 3000GT, and sunrise is 6:29 a.m. It's still early, so you drive around for an hour just to find the cheapest gas stations and the fastest ways out of town. Then you accelerate smoothly onto East Broadway Boulevard near a plasma center and head for the garage address you got earlier.

When a shadow crosses the hood of your Mitsubishi, you look up and catch a glimpse of a wing eclipsing a streetlight. Was that Prince Lettow's eagle?

You find your spot in the underground parking garage. Right in front of it is a metal door with a keypad. You grab everything from your Mitsubishi, lock it, and enter the code. Inside is an office with peeling linoleum floors, an ancient metal desk with a rusty minifridge on it, and a sleeping bag. A short tile corridor ends in a jury-rigged shower and a drain. There's a clear plastic bag and some toiletries on the tile, and a bottle of 409 that won't do anything against the smell of mildew.

There's no Wi-Fi.

Still, it's better than sleeping in an abandoned semitrailer, and your phone actually gets good reception. Even better, there are escape routes into the sewers that you can use. You loosen the grates and make sure you have a clear route into the sewers in case you're exposed.

You're just getting settled in when you hear your door lock beep. The metal door opens, and there's Julian Sim.

Next

A new personal low," Julian says. He's wearing a Glitch T-shirt and a smile. He starts to enter, then looks down and says, "You have to invite me in."

Because you and I are both gentle souls, aren't we?" He glances back at your Mitsubishi. "Also, we're old friends. And finally…"

He tosses you a tiny webcam. "This was in your ceiling, by the way. Give me your phone, and I'll take care of the tracking program there."

He looks so young, you think as he wanders in and out of your shitty crash pad, sweeping for bugs. For some reason you expected him to age. You look at yourself in your Mitsubishi's side view mirror. You haven't aged either.

"Man, it's been a while," Julian says, leaning against your door frame. "I remember the nights we spent keeping that elder asleep with offerings of blood, the days curled up together in the desert. Wasn't it romantic?"