Free Crossroads by Stephen Kenson Page B

watched it all happen. I didn’t care how horrible it was, my only thought was to see the ones responsible for my pain dead. The inferno in the alley was cool compared to the anger I felt as I watched the gangers burn, writhe, and die.
    Then it was all over. The husks of the bikes burned and a stream of acrid smoke billowed up from the alley. The gangers’ blackened and twisted corpses lay where they had fallen. Most of them never even knew what hit them, or why. I turned and walked away from the alley without looking back. The cut on my hand throbbed and ached. I felt drained, empty.
    I’d never killed anyone before that day. Even growing up in the violence of the Rox, I’d never even seriously hurt anyone, even in a fight. Then in the space of a day I killed fourteen people I didn’t even know. The sims would have you believe that I’d have been wracked with guilt ever since, but to be honest, I’m not. They’d want me to say that roasting those gangers didn’t bring Jase back and it didn’t make my grief go away. It didn’t, but to be honest, I don’t care.
    Nobody cried any tears for the Asphalt Rats when they heard about the weird incident in the alley, and another gang took over their turf and their niche in the Barrens ecology soon thereafter. I’m not bothered by the fact that I killed those bastards, then or now. What bothered me is the fact that I enjoyed it. The feeling of power when the Rats burned was an unbelievable high, better than drugs, better than anything. I liked that feeling, and the idea that I might be willing to kill again just to feel it scared the drek out of me.
    I closed my fingers over the scar on my palm and looked out the window of the plane as we descended. Somewhere out in the dark, sprawling starscape that rushed up to greet us was a blasted and burned alley that no one went near anymore, and I was afraid of seeing it again.

6
    The sun was coming up as we landed at Logan International Airport. Even this early in the morning, the airport was abuzz with activity from corporate commuter flights coming and going from New York, DeeCee, Atlanta, Seattle, and international flights from around the world. Corp types in suits made their way to and from the terminal as we left the plane. There was a fair security presence, mostly Knight Errant guards in their sleek black uniforms with the “KE ” logo on the breast and shoulder, sidearms discreetly placed to provide a formidable image. The airport was busier and security was definitely tighter than I remembered it being on the day I left Boston, ten years ago. It was now a place where things were happening.
    Since we had no luggage to pick up, we breezed past the baggage claim. Both of us traveled light, strictly carry-on stuff. Trouble did have to stop at the security checkpoint at the end of the terminal to have her deck and chips run through a standard scan. I didn't worry. She’d managed to get the deck through security in DeeCee without any trouble, and the check was routine. Her ID claimed Trouble was a corporate research consultant, someone who needed the compact, portable computing power of a cyberdeck. She spoke briefly with the bored-looking clerk.
    “And you certify that these chips contain no illegal or contraband data?” the clerk asked in a droning voice. I watched the small trideo screens running reports from NewsNet. The rolling strip at the bottom of the image presented the local time and weather in Boston. It predicted a light rain for tonight by around 6:05. An announcer, pleasantly bland-looking, was reporting on breaking news in the metroplex.
    “Knight Errant authorities are still investigating a series of brutal murders in the Boston area. Another victim of the ‘Boston Slasher,’ Ms. Elaine Dumont of Cambridge, was found near a red-line T-station early yesterday morning. The victim died from a single stab-wound, according to a representative of Knight Errant Security Services. Although the investigation is