Nina's World

By Mike &EZ

Nina's World is a Science Fiction/Fantasy novel by Mike and EZ.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mike &EZ
• Release date: Aug 19, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370956142

Mike &EZ

Mike and EZ make comics, books and other things, some more pornographic than others. You can find us on Tapas (a comics site), at https://tapas.io/series/Adventures-of-Mike--EZ and on Comic Fury at https://comicfury.com/profile.php?username=dirtyrobot Thanks for visiting!

Book preview

PART I

THE REACHES

The road to nowhere. That's what it was known by. Of course, all roads lead some place, and the Kamakira Expressway was no different. It got its name from a series of unfortunate accidents that happened during the course of its construction, none of which have been completely explained to this day. The superstitious locals avoided using the Expressway altogether, and even the mention of its name brought a stall to any friendly conversation. Not that there were too many locals around this area, anyway - the town of Kamakira was, officially speaking, deserted, and no one sane enough would go here, especially not at night.

Standing on top of the running highway, Mike scanned the floor of the valley with his remaining good eye for any signs of life. His attention was directed at the few rusted roofs of the abandoned shanty town in the mouth of the river valley below. It was late in the day, and the sun was beating down on the reddish, corrugated metal houses. Weakly, they glinted back the sun. The little town seemed lifeless, deserted. He had heard various tales about the area and the ghost town of Kamakira itself. None of them seemed true. Out of the corner of his bad eye, Mike saw a few Greyskins scurrying around in one of the shanty town's dilapidated streets. They were small, hairless rat-like things that could usually be found rummaging through the plentiful garbage around the Metro. It was strange to see them here in broad daylight, running freely through the streets. The Greyskins seemed to be attracted to one particular intersection, which was almost completely blocked by a collapsed two story shanty. A good part of its metal roof lay strewn about in sheets all over the sidewalk, and the Greyskins took cover under them as they approached. There was a small pack of them now, maybe twenty in all. They gathered for a moment around the ruins, then suddenly sprang back and scattered in different directions, disappearing below the corrugated sheets. Even from a distance, Mike could feel the trembling hot air against his face like a wave. The metal gave off a lot of heat. Only those weird creatures could live in a place like that, Mike thought, gradually zooming out of the intersection to get a better view of the whole town. The valley was home to a riverbed, currently dry. Some clumps of grass grew about its edges, forming dark, patched bands. The vacant riverbed snaked its way through a good part of the valley before disappearing in a small patch of curly, dark trees. Mike zoomed in on a white object at the mouth of the dead river: it was a cow skull. He spat out his cigarette.

He was waiting for the tram. He had been waiting for a good four hours now and was about to give up when EZ called him. EZ's voice came through Mike's headset in echoes, and it was difficult to understand what he was saying.

Mike-ike-ike? What's the holdup-oldup-oldup? EZ's voice asked, reverberating. I dunno. I'll go down there and see, Mike replied. Be careful-areful-areful.There's no one down there. They say it's deserted.Be careful anyway, EZ said, and his voice fell silent among the echoes.

Well, not that deserted, Mike thought as he walked down the street. As soon as he got down into the valley, he noticed several things that were downright contrary to everything he'd ever heard about Kamakira's Ghost Town: the place was far from uninhabited. It was empty here, yes, but he could sense them from a mile away. This was the home of the Dolls. Even though most of them were hiding now behind the blind shutters of their houses, they laughed faintly when they saw him walk by. Mike looked up from time to time, scanning the windows, but there was no one in sight. Faded, yellowing curtains covered most of the jalousies, many of them broken; sometimes the holes were patched up with different pieces of cardboard or just stuffed with rags. The Dolls weren't dangerous by themselves.

It was hot out in the streets. Above the corrugated metal roofs of the houses, the air stood still. The town was an oven. Just ahead, the sidewalks shimmered, bending up and down in the mirage.

Mike checked the address and looked around: a strange, small figure was hobbling toward him from across the street. It was hunched over and it resembled a small, old man, but it was clipping across the empty intersection at an amazing speed. The little man was clearly heading toward Mike, but for some reason, stopped short on the other side of the street and leaned casually against a lamp post. Mike's buzzer suddenly went off again. It was EZ.

Mike? Mike?

Yeah.

Oh, good. Listen, we had a minor problem with the tram - it's stuck on its way to Port. Did you speak with Marley?

No, I can't find the house. I think I've got the wrong address, I'm trying to track it.

How long do you think it's gonna take?

A couple hours.

Any trouble?

No. There's nobody here, Mike said, giving the man across the street a brief look.

Ok, let’s reconnect back at the Port in three hours, is that okay?

Sure, Mike said.

As soon as the line went out, the little man began moving toward Mike again. He was about three or four feet tall at the most. He walked very slowly now, wobbling uncertainly with each step, as if the ground he was walking on was made of Jell-O. He was wearing a dark suit and an old-fashioned straw hat, the top of which was missing. When he was about seven feet away, he suddenly stopped and tipped his hat obnoxiously to Mike. The little man was grinning, and Mike could see most of his teeth, sharp and angular, like those of a shark. A few were missing.

Howdy, the small man said, stepping closer.

What do you want?

You shouldn't be here. Get out.

Why?

We don't need any outsiders.

Listen, I'm looking for someone, know where this address is? Mike began taking out the scrap with the address, when the small man moved closer. The toothy grin had gone from his face.

You deaf, or what? I said get out!

You with the police?

No, but that's my territory. You got no business here, and we don't want any grey faced, wired up freaks around here starting any trouble. The small man was serious: in his hand, Mike noticed the neon flash of a zapper gun.

Now get outta here, you ugly sonuvabitch.

I hate to break it to you, buddy, but you're one ugly…

The little man could, for all his apparent slowness and negligible height, jump very high. He jumped off the ground so quickly Mike didn't have time to respond and got knocked out cold. On the ground, little bits of red glass were all that remained of Mike's only good eye.

When he awoke, he was still lying on the dirty concrete pavement. There was no one around, and some of his equipment was gone, including the headset, but it was no big deal - Mike could still use his inbuilt station. His right eye was smarting, but he was otherwise unharmed.

It was almost dark now. Mike guessed he must have been out for about two hours. A stoplight, that had stopped working properly, illuminated a large section of the street in jolts of blue light. Mike tucked the loose wiring back behind his eye panel and looked around. Further down, on the opposite side of the street, he saw a Doll moving toward him. She was lit up intermittently by the flashing stoplight, her heels clicking rhythmically as she walked. She was dressed in the barest minimum, her waist crossed by a wide black belt. The Doll paused for a moment on the other side to look at him. She smiled, but when Mike started to get up, fled into the nearest alley. It was eerily silent. Mike consulted the map. The slip of paper with the address was missing. He began walking back.

From time to time, Mike felt sure that there was someone following him, but when he looked around, there was no one in sight. His register told him it was Jumpers, about five of them, in fact, and he quickened his pace. It would be good to get out of Kamakira before it got completely dark. Ghosts did not bother Mike at all now: he would have gladly preferred them anytime to a stray Doll or one of those crazy, grinning Jumpers.

His right eye was playing tricks on him; from one moment to the next, he saw everything breaking up into kaleidoscopic pieces, then rearranging itself and drifting back together again. The sky floated in six different segments among dark pools of buildings and littered sections of street. The dark blocks swam around, mixing with the smaller, colorful pieces of stoplights and shop signs, multiplying, drifting, spinning, dividing. At last, Mike just shut it off: it kept him from thinking.

About a half hour later, Mike received a call, which was now coming in through his inbuilt receiver. The echoes moved inside his head.

Mike? EZ's voice said. He sounded worried.

Yeah?

Where the hell are you?

Uh, I'm almost there. What's happened with the tram?

Are you okay?

Yeah, what happened?

Well… we're fucked. The tram was carrying oranges.

"What?! Oranges?"

Yeah. You okay?

Yeah, I'm all right.

You sound a little… strange.

It's the Reaches, EZ, you start getting like that here in no time. Get me out now, will ya? It's getting dark.

Gimme an hour, I'll be there, EZ said, and the line went out.

Who did that? EZ asked, while they were driving past a gigantic billboard of flashing white lights, which advertised some kind of mouthwash.

One of those little bastards. I never see them coming, Mike said, rubbing his temple.But they say the town's deserted, EZ ventured.

"Deserted, my ass. It's full of these little creeps. They only look slow, until they see you. Then they jump like a goddamn rabid grasshopper." Mike looked out the window of the taxi: they were still on the outskirts of the city, judging by the amount of garbage lying right on the road, and sometimes partially blocking it. The taxicab’s engine strained and groaned as it climbed like a dung beetle through the dirty pile-ups.

Let’s see if we can fix you up tonight.

I ain't counting on Doc, if that's what you're planning.

No, I know someone who's good. Doc won't do here.

SNADE

The new practitioner, Snade by name, was not much better than old Doc was, but he had a collection of spare parts, one of which fit Mike's eye perfectly. In about an hour, the kaleidoscopic show in his right eye had ceased, and Mike could see even better than before. Snade only accepted hard cash as payment. His other business was of a completely different nature: Snade was a psychic reader, or, as he liked to call himself, a mystic. His establishment was located on the second floor of a little house permanently embedded between two dismal skyscrapers, both of which rose to fifty stories on either side, casting the little house in perpetual shadow. Right above the entrance, a bright neon inscription read, Snade-Mystic. Psychic. Fortune Teller. Now accepting all forms of currency. Come in.

Say, Snade, EZ ventured, after the payment was complete. What's it like, seeing the future and all?

Snade looked up at EZ, his orange dreadlocks falling all over his shoulders in disarray. He had bright green eyes. On the table before him stood a classic crystal ball; also green. Smoky shadows moved inside it, circling the sphere.

You want to see the future? Snade asked, and shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

No, not really, EZ said.

Then why do you ask? Snade moved the crystal ball aside.

No reason, but if you really can see the future, what good does it do you?Snade frowned, then smiled, then frowned again. One corner of his mouth began to twitch. It's not like that. And that's… that's none of your business, he said, running his hand over his mouth. "For your information, I can't see my own future. It's not like that. It's not like that at all, but I can see other things. For a limited time, I can offer you a reading at no charge."

EZ, what the hell are you doing? Mike said, but EZ was already sitting at the table across from Snade. Snade closed his eyes solemnly and waved his hand over the green crystal ball. His mouth continued to twitch.

I see… he began, but a sudden knocking on the back entrance door interrupted him. Who is it? he asked.

Davy? Davy? an old woman's voice called him.

Yes, Ma?

Who's there? The door opened a trifle, but it was too dark to see inside the room.

Nobody.

Come upstairs, the voice said, and the door closed again creakily, as if on its own.Snade brushed back the dreadlocks from his face.

If you'll excuse me, gentlemen, I have to get going, but if you ever need your eyes fixed, or your futures foretold, come back again at any time. Snade got up from the table. Also, watch out for the Doll.

What Doll? EZ asked, but Snade didn't answer. He went out the back door listlessly, forgetting to lock it behind him.

BOSS

Why is it always like this? Mike thought, as they were taking the taxi out of the Reaches. The taxi was old, and even though the road was evenly paved in most places, the cab jolted them up and down at every turn.

Because, replied EZ, who could hear his twin brother's thoughts, we have no luck, that's all. It's not anybody's fault or anything, he concluded.

Does boss know yet? Mike asked, holding onto the front seat, as another jolt shook them around the cabin.

N-no. EZ looked out the window. The quickly passing rounded tops of the Metrodome went by one by one, the towers of its multiple satellite receivers flashing like upside down golden cupolas. In some places, EZ could see the missing sections of roof from the previous attack. They looked like black, broken gaps in the smooth gilded surface. The domes were big and had complacently withstood multiple air raids, bombs and rockets, as well as falling pieces of space junk. They had even survived the First Great War. The latest case was a strange one. It was a freak attack, but most likely a simple accident. Still, the operators of the craft that crashed into the Metrodome were drones, and ever since the investigation began, Mike and EZ had no rest. Any minute, they expected to be brought in and questioned by the police, because they were drones themselves. EZ and Mike were almost identical in appearance, but Mike was a bit bigger. He also liked to smoke, but EZ didn't. EZ considered it a human habit too outdated and, perhaps, unworthy of himself.

Mike's right eye was working fine now, and he could see the streets out of his side of the cab as they drove into the outer parts of the Reaches. It was getting cleaner, brighter, and more up-kept the further they drove away from that particular area of the Metro's periphery. It was also less dangerous here. There were no Jumpers or Dolls. Mike looked over at EZ, who was trying to sleep with his head leaned back against the headrest, but the jolting of the cab prevented him from staying in the same position for long. He wanted to ask him about the oranges and what happened with the tram. EZ knew that, but he didn't feel like discussing it yet.

When they got to Boss's place, it was about seven in the evening. A small man who reminded Mike of the Jumper who had attacked him earlier that afternoon greeted them and led them into the lobby. The lobby was covered in mirrors from floor to ceiling: round ones, square ones, octagonal, even triangular ones - tall ones, short ones, all kinds of mirrors occupied every space of the walls. Most were framed and, at first glance, resembled portraits. Boss made them wait an hour, a bad sign. Mike was getting nervous, but he couldn't smoke here or step outside. To make matters worse, it began to rain. The warm rain drizzled mildly outside the window, turning everything into a grey, non-decipherable mist, and soon Mike lost his desire to smoke. He leaned back against the gaudy love seat and just wished that he could get out of the boss's office with minimal damages from Boss and the surrounding moisture outside.

Finally, the door opened and the small man motioned for them to come inside. EZ got up first.When they entered, their boss was lying on the sofa. A black towel covered his face. The small man served him opium through a copper thinner, a small pipe with a long, thin crystal stem. Boss was in bad shape, which meant things weren't going well. The accident with the tram did not help.

So, he said, and tipped back one corner of the black towel to look at them with one eye. It was pale orange and overwhelmingly blood shot. Mike and EZ stood nearby, not daring to come any closer: Boss had a reputation.

Sir, EZ began, it was an accident.

So I hear. Boss scratched his left ear with one finger. What happened?

A trick question. Everyone knew what happened, or, at least, that was the way it looked: the tram, which was supposedly transporting prisoners to Kansas City, had stopped on its way before reaching Port Stella Maris. At first, there was a simple mechanical problem. By the time it was fixed, the tram had lost half its fuel before anyone noticed the large dent in its tank.

It must've been a mistake with the carrier, Mike ventured.

Very likely, EZ added.Suddenly, their boss stirred into an upright position on the couch. The black towel had fallen off his face and was now lying across his lap. He sat like this for a while, rubbing his eyes. He had an unhealthy, mean sort of thinness about him that was gradually being worsened by his smoking habit. Blindly, with one hand, he reached for the opium pipe on the table, but it rolled away from him and fell to the floor.

Ugh, he sighed. You two are the most incompetent shitheads I've ever met.Mike and EZ shifted uncomfortably in place at the compliment. They were both reflected in the large oval mirror above the couch. EZ's face was glowing red.

"Why don't you just admit that you've got the wrong train?"

We didn't know, EZ began, the carrier told us…

"The carrier is not in question here. You are. Boss sat up a bit more. He loosened his shirt collar and dragged briefly on the pipe, which he had retrieved from the floor. That train was carrying oranges. You stopped a train that was carrying goddamn oranges! Why didn't you check with Marley first?"

I couldn't find him, Mike mumbled. They gave me the wrong address.

Get out, boss said, and lay down again on the sofa, this time facing the wall.

So? Mike said, as they exited the office building. In his mouth was a freshly lit cigarette. The rain had let up a bit, and he dragged on it with pleasure. It felt good to be out of Boss's place. The mirrors didn't help either.

I'm guessing this was Marley's idea, EZ said.

You think?

I don't know, but he gave you the wrong address. EZ squinted at the street ahead, trying to spot a taxi.

Could be a mistake.

Never trust a pimp, EZ said, and began to dig in the pockets of his coat for an ID tag.

MARLEY

They found Marley in a completely unexpected place - a bar on the outskirts of the Metro. A complete coincidence. They got there by mistake. The taxi driver who took them there was a drone. He was just starting out and did not know the city, or how to use his own navigation system. After three circles around the outskirts of the Metro, Mike called for a stop. He got back his ID from the driver, swiped him quickly with his fist, and went out to look for another cab. The taxi took off spontaneously. It began to rain heavily then. There was not another hover in sight. To wait out the rain, Mike and EZ went inside the first building they saw with an ‘open’ sign on it.

Marley was too busy to notice them come in. A Doll, who had both of her hands in the lower reaches of his centipede suit, was attending to him. Most of his arms were dangling loosely over the counter, and all of Marley's eyes were closed. He clicked his tongue pleasurably from time to time. When the Doll left, he ordered a drink, but did not finish it. Maybe, he sensed some kind of trouble. He quickly looked around blinking his dozen red eyes in a random sequence, then swept up the drink and exited the bar. EZ was covering the exit as Mike followed him out. It was raining, and Marley ran really fast, even for a centipede. Mike and EZ had trouble keeping up with his pace. Marley turned the corner on 5th