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Fire! Dove flung herself forward from the chair, wires dropping from her onto the blackening carpet. The wall of flame rose up in front of her, obscuring her vision, and her eyes stung in the thickening, sour smoke. A sudden explosion of a lamp, and she screamed, raising her hands to protect herself. A warm, soft feeling spread across her face, numbing the pain. Her hands scrabbled frantically at the double-glazing of the window, her sobs catching in her throat -
And she woke up, wrapped in sweat-soaked sheets. She sat bolt upright, pushing damp hair from her face with shaking hands. She pushed herself to her feet, unsteady, and moved over towards the window. She rested her face against the cool bullet-proof glass. What would Mei say if she could see Dove now? Confident, irresistible Dove - once described on BBS as "the ever arrogant hacker with a tongue of acid". They were good partners. Daring. No scam too big. No burglary too implausible.
That day they'd had the Argument, and Mei had left the apartment... if only she had bitten her tongue, not been so damn stubborn... Dove exhaled sharply. She remembered waking up to the cold, welcoming arms of the corporation and realising that her apartment was dust. And when the company had thrown her out, not needing any more from her, she had wandered, lost and dazed, through the streets. She had wanted to die, but did not have the courage.
Mei knew none of this - and Dove had not tried to contact her. Why should Mei help? She did not want Mei to know how she had changed. How sane she was now. How sorry. "We're still friends, aren't we?" Mei had said, in the Net. Maybe they were. Maybe Dove could call her.
But something was holding her back.
Dove shook her head sleepily. Conversations with yourself in the dead of night never yield much revelation. She tiptoed to the bedroom door and, opening it, stepped into the lounge.
It smelt faintly of previous tenants and mothballs as Dove curled up on the sofa, her head lowered in her lap. She stayed there for what seemed like hours, but was probably only minutes of the endless night.
Shadbolt's bedroom door opened with a gentle creak, and he stood silhouetted in the doorway. He wore only his boxers, and his arm rested in a sling.
"Nightmares again?" he asked, softly.
Dove looked up. She nodded, the outline of her face beautiful in the inky darkness of the lounge. Silence hung in the air for a moment.
Then Shadbolt turned, walking back into his darkened room. Dove rose from the sofa, and followed. The door shut quietly behind them.
Mich Sampson, 04/09/01
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