Technomancer (Unspeakable Things: Book One)

smiled at that. People would pay money to play a repetitive card game against a computer—as long as they thought they had a chance of winning money. Gambling was a powerful incentive.
    I located the phones, called “dealer phones” on the street, near the poker machine and pulled one off the rack. No point in trying to get a real cell phone. I had the feeling I wasn’t going to impress anyone with my burned-down house and lack of identification at a cell phone store.
    That’s when a casual glance toward the cloudy front window sent a chill through me.
A shadow, quickly moving away.
I was definitely being followed. The question was, who was doing the following? Cops? Rostok’s goons? Bill collectors? I had no idea, but despite the fact the streets were nearly empty at dawn, I’d been seeing that same blue Buick at every store I went to.
    Rather than heading back out to the street, I asked the kid behind the counter if he had a bathroom.
    “It’s only for employees,” he said. He was a tall kid with the triple whammy of braces, glasses, and acne.
    “I’m gonna puke. Long night.”
    He looked at me unhappily. I still had some healing cuts on my face and I had been up all night long. I looked the part of a sick tourist who’d overdone it in Sin City.
    “All right,” he said, sighing. “There’s a key hanging behind that little sign beside the door.”
    I walked toward the back without thanking him. I’d heard a door crumping closed outside. Apparently, my stalker felt I’d taken too long in here. I ignored the bathroom and the key, and instead put on Tony’s shades. I twisted the stockroom’s locked door handle. The door rattled, groaned, andthen opened. I walked inside and let it click shut behind me. One bad thing, I realized, was I couldn’t lock the door again behind me. The shades got me through locked doors, but they opened them for everyone else too. Not ideal when being pursued.
    I found the exit that led into the alley behind the place, threw the door open, and stood to one side of it. I snapped off the lights, stepped behind the open door, and froze. I waited there, barely breathing.
    It took a full minute. This guy wasn’t too bright, I surmised. Eventually, he found his way into the stockroom. I peeped around the edge of the door with one eye. The glare from outside hid me from the intruder’s point of view. I didn’t recognize the face, because I didn’t see one. He had a mask on. My heart thudded when I saw his hands. There was blood on them, and they held a dark object. A gun? Was he really here to rob this place, or to get rid of me?
    I stared at his hands and the object in them. Yes, it was a gun. But that wasn’t why I kept staring for an extra second or so. It was that hand. It was gray, and it had ridges on the back of it. No—they were more like spurs. Curved, bladelike hooks that resembled tiny shark fins.
    I stayed behind the door while he trotted past and out into the alley. I imagined him out there—whatever he was—looking around in confusion. He didn’t say anything, not even muttered curses. I pushed the door quietly shut behind him. The door clicked and he was locked out, as I hadn’t used the sunglasses on this one. Like most alley doors at the back of convenience stores, it locked automatically when you closed it.
    He didn’t make a sound. He didn’t say a word. I’d expected cursing, but I didn’t get any. The door handle rattled vigorously, however. When he gave up on that, an odd,spitting sound erupted. He must have had a silencer. I’d been ready for him to shoot through the door and hadn’t stood in front of it. Bullets punched holes through the steel, leaving three white circles of light.
    I ran back out into the store. I found the kid who’d been nice enough to let me into his bathroom. He was lying in a bloody pool. I sighed and frowned. I hadn’t meant for that to happen. I touched his neck and felt a thready pulse. He might make it. I called emergency as I left, dropping the phone I’d bought into a trashcan after I reported the shooting. I took a fresh phone off the rack. The cops would be hunting for the one I used to call in the shooting, and I’d already answered enough of McKesson’s questions.
    The alley didn’t open up anywhere close to this store, which left the gunman outside a long run around half the block to get back here. Deciding I had a bit of time, I grabbed a box cutter from the counter and sank the right front tire on