Running Sal

I have a new short story (~1,500 words) that i would like to present to all on my friends list. I decided to write for this month's with just 12 hours to go, so if it seems a little rough, it's because this is draft 0, with the smallest bit of editing.

The genre is mixed genres - bringing in bits of action / adventure, sci-fi and western (it's supposed to be a sci-fi / western sort of setting - not sure how well that came across).



   "My name's Running Sal and I've never been caught!"
   The last words I'd spoken went round in my head as I dashed over the rooftops of Ivy City. I can run, and it is true that I've never been caught. It's not because I'm faster than everyone else. It's because I go in a straight line. Running, jumping, climbing, it's all the same to me; a way to get from one place to another.
   I work for an organization that makes sure the top echelons of this little asteroid colony don't get too cocky. We watch, we scold, we kill on occasion. I'm a messenger; I deliver things, letters, bugs, bombs, whatever. I'm small, agile, can get into tight spaces and get out faster than anyone else.
   The job today was simple, the financiers office was holding a meeting, and I was to plant a bug to record the whole thing. I'd arrived early, found a good spot in the ventilation, and gotten out fast. But something had gone wrong. The guards waited for me at my exit point.
   "My name's Running Sal," I said. "And I've never been caught!"
   I lunged between them, their hands grasping at the space I had just vacated. Off I tore, along the flat uneven rooftops, leap-frogging over railings and diving across alleys. I couldn't spare a glance behind me but I could hear the guards keeping pace. These guys were good, but no one can keep up with me.
   From my belt bag I pulled out a grappling winch the size of a small gun, but packed with a hundred meter coil of spider-twine attached to a compact grappling hook. The guards could eat my dust, no one could do the stunts I could using a grappling winch.
   Aim for the rail of the next building over, fire, and hang on. The hook connected perfectly, and the winch kicked in, whipping me across this rooftop, over the gap and onto the next roof. The wind flew through my hair and flapped against my light poly armour. I landed perfectly, yanked the hook out and reeled back in the twine, ready for another jump.
   Down this time, the next level was about 5 meters below this one. It was part of this building but separated by old railings, rust eating through cracks in the paint. The roof rose up again about 10 meters distant. I could make that jump.
   I leapt up onto the railing and fired my winch at the rail on the opposite side. But even as I leapt I knew I had made a bad move. The rail under my feet crumbled to rusted shards and even as the winch took my weight, I felt the twine go slack. In horror, I watched the opposite rail do the same. I crashed towards the lower section of roof, trying my best to tuck into a roll. Elbows and knees connected with the ground, jarring my bones all the way through to my spine. The singular pain paralysed me and as I lay there in agony, all I could think was, "I have to get up. Those guards will be here any second."
   But I couldn't get up, I couldn't move. The guards' racing footfalls grew louder, hard-soled shoes slapping on concrete. My heart beat out a counter rhythm and I started to shake. This was it. They would collar me and erase my life, put a new one in its place and I would become one of the reformed. That couldn't happen to me. I'm Running Sal. I don't get caught.
   Five burly figures came over the roof and slowed when they saw me.
   "It's our lucky day, men," the one in the lead said.
   I had to get up now. Straining against the pain in my bones, I pushed myself off the ground but I could barely stand. The world spun and the daylight vanished as blobs of darkness covered my eyes.
   The guards closed in, quickly surrounding me. Still unable to see well, I dodged away from the sounds they made, the scrape of shoes on sandy concrete and their loud breathing. It was no use. Strong hands latched onto my arms and legs, and try as I might to pull away, I was helpless against them. My sight came back just in time to see one of them come at me with a small sliver collar, about half an inch wide.
   "No!" I screamed.
   I wrenched my whole body around, kicking out with arms and legs and lashing my head from side to side. But they were used to holding struggling bodies and the collar was on me in an instant.
   In that second, everything stopped. My muscles went slack, my mouth dropped open, my eyes stared into space. But inside my head my mind screamed. This shouldn't be happening. It wasn't supposed to happen. I couldn't have been caught.
   But slowly even the thoughts went silent, until all that was left to me was a trickle of senses, none of which I could process properly. Going down in an elevator, being shoved into a van, waiting in a chair, four walls and a high ceiling surrounding me. My senses woke up a little more as they questioned me, and after that, nothing.

   I woke up on a soft bed, the covers kicked off during the hot night. I loved this bed. About the only thing I liked about this cruddy apartment. I got up, showered, taking care to clean underneath my silver choker, contemplated having breakfast. Too much bother and besides, half the food had already been eaten by the rats. I really needed to find a better place to live. First I had to find a job. Dressed quickly, grabbed keys and jacket from beside the door and headed for the employment office.
   The resident junkie lay sprawled across the floor outside my door. Why did she always crash out here? It sickened me to see her eyes sunken into her pale, almost alabaster skin. Today she was awake, damn. She'd start talking to me. I never responded, and she took offence at that, usually getting violent.
   "Sal," she said.
   My heart skipped a beat. That wasn't my name, but somehow it struck a chord. I kept my back to her as I locked the door and then walked away without looking at her.
   "We need you back, Sal," she said.
   I stopped. She sounded different, more coherent. I turned back.
   "I'm not Sal," I said. "You have the wrong person."
   "How long have you had that collar?" she asked.
   I brought a hand to my throat, feeling the warm metal. "All my life," I said.
   The choker had belonged to my grandmother who had died when I was a baby. She'd wanted me to have it and I never took it off.
   "Belonged to your grandmother? You never take it off?" she said.
   My hair stood on end. "What do you want?" I said.
   "You are living a lie, Sal. You got caught and they collared you."
   A single image flashed across my eyes. Five men grappling me on a rooftop. My heart beat faster.
   "I've never been caught," I said.
   It seemed like a strange thing to say, but at the same time the words were as much a part of me as the collar around my neck.
   "Would you come with me?" the junkie said. "I want to show you something."
   I hesitated. I had an appointment with the jobs officer that I didn't want to miss. But something strange was going on here and I wanted to know what it was. I finally looked at her, and realized that I had misjudged her. Her skin was pale, bit not sickly, and her eyes were lined in dark makeup, not sunken into her skull. I nodded and she led the way out of the building, onto the maglev train across town, into another building and up onto the roof.
   Broken railings surrounded an area where the level of the roof dropped about 5 meters.
   "Do you recognise this?" she said.
   It did seem vaguely familiar, the reddish yellow skydome all around, being able to see over the buildings, even the rusted railings around the perimeter twigged something within me. She handed me a device which looked something like a gun, but instead of a trigger, it had a button on top. I didn't recognise it, but curiosity urged me to press the button.
   Spider-twine shot from the barrel, coils of it trailing after a barbed hook. The hook landed with a thud in the concrete of the building opposite, and before I could think to let go, a winch kicked in and dragged me across the gap. A squeal trailed after me and I squeezed my eyes shut as I soared over the road. The sound of hover traffic and ground traffic zoomed passed me. And then I was safely on the other side, standing on the roof after a perfect landing.
   I had done this before. I remembered it, the thrill of being chased across the rooftops, the surge of excitement when I pulled way ahead of them. I pointed the winch back at the fateful building where I'd been caught and leapt across the road, this time in control and exhilarating in the speed.
   "Vena," I said. "I remember."
   She smiled. "Let's get that collar off."

   My name's Running Sal, and I've been caught once.