Digital Walls: A Cyberpunk Saga (Book 3) by Matthew A. Goodwin

Author:Matthew A. Goodwin [Goodwin, Matthew A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Matthew A. Goodwin
Published: 2020-06-11T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

They had been silent for a while as they hustled to back the home base.

Seti held the Zetas off long enough to mask their escape, but they all knew that ThutoCo would be on high alert now. Anders’s mobility had returned enough to walk, but he kept a hand on Ynna’s shoulder so that he could keep pace.

Everyone seemed lost in thought and the mood felt low.

As they passed a bar with a light flickering “Open,” Sandra turned to face them.

“You three head back and come up with a plan for extraction that will meet with my approval,” she ordered before turning to Moss. “I need to catch up with my grandson.”

The three nodded wearily, and Moss felt a knot in his stomach. He wanted desperately to speak with his grandmother but worried about Ynna’s state of mind. She was obviously angry, and Moss didn’t think the company of two men who had their own ambitions with her was what she needed now.

They moved off and Sandra put a hand on Moss’s back, moving him toward the door to the bar.

Descending a few wooden stairs, bowed and weathered with age, they entered a dingy room with rusted chairs set at uneven tables. The walls were coated in layers of graffiti promoting local businesses and gangs. Cracked picture frames displaying images of drunken local celebrities lined the wall behind the long plexiglass bar full of neon illuminated bottles. A cadaverous-looking woman lay on the floor next to a spilled drink, pawing at whatever she saw in her VR headset.

A young man in a tattered smock hurried over to them, a crutch under one arm and one pant leg dangling loose. “Greetings, customers,” he said and shook his head. “No, not customers, clients? That doesn’t sound good either. Friends? Let’s go with friends. Greetings, friends. Can I interest you in a Meadow’s Harvest?” He dropped his head sheepishly and admitted, “It’s all I know how to make.”

“You tend bar and only know how to make one drink?” Sandra wearily asked. “Got any beer?”

The kid frowned. “Expecting a shipment this week, but most folks prefer the synth stuff, more bang for the buck, you know?”

“Fine,” Sandra grunted. “Two of what you’ve got.”

He smiled and pulled a jug out from under the bar, pouring a surprisingly thick brown liquid into two glasses.

Moss couldn’t help but chuckle. “So, when you said, ‘know how to make,’ you meant?”

A guilty expression crossed his face. “Yeah.”

Sandra grabbed one of the glasses and moved to a chair, telling the kid over her shoulder, “We’ll pay when we are done.”

He looked to Moss. “Your boss is a bit of a—” he began but Moss cut him off.

“My grandma,” Moss corrected, and the kid’s face flushed with embarrassment.

“Oh, shit, and sorry I said ‘shit,’ just sorry,” he stammered.

Moss smiled and nodded as he turned to join Sandra.

He took a sip and winced as he sat, the drink tasting like alcoholic mud.

Sandra shook her head. “Still a sight to behold. My little Moss all grown.

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