Christmas in Zonei Pt. 04

"Connecting," the male voice with a Japanese accent replied.

Kim tried not to fidget as he waited for the connection to go through. It seemed to take an eternity, but finally a female voice came through the speaker.

"Dr. Finneas Marcus's office. How may I help you?"

"Uh, this is Kim Takemoto. I have an appointment with Dr. Marcus. I think I'm standing in front of your office, but I don't see a number."

"One moment please," the woman's voice intoned.

Kim heard a whir and a click.

"The door is unlocked. You have eight seconds to enter," the woman said.

Kim was having misgivings about this whole venture, but eight seconds didn't give him time to waffle. He twisted the door handle and pulled hard. The heavy steel moved grudgingly, and as soon as there was a gap wide enough for him slip through, he did so.

He found himself in a long, dim corridor with doors leading off to either side at regular intervals. He hesitated until he heard the female voice intone, "Third door on the left."

Just as he got there, he the snick of a lock. He opened the door and peered in.

"Come in and close the door," a harsh male voice growled.

Kim's nerves were taut wires, trembling, ready to snap. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. The scent of garbage and sweat assaulted him. He was in a small room that was crowded with ... junk. Machines of various shapes and sizes, most looking in need of repair, were piled along one wall. There was a tall bookcase that took up another wall, overflowing with haphazardly stacked books and piles of papers. A large, old-fashioned wooden desk was also strewn with books and papers, as well as knickknacks and fast food wrappers. A large, rotund man sat behind the desk, glaring at him with beady eyes that were heavily hooded by folds of fatty skin.

The only light in the room came from a small desk lamp. The man tilted it, so that the light shone in Kim's eyes. He blinked as the man became a silhouette, black against gray.

"So, you are interested in electroregen," the man said. His eyes were now just a glitter in the dark of his face, but Kim felt them raking him up and down. "You don't seem injured."

"It's ... it's not for me," Kim stammered, cursing his unsteady voice. "It's for a friend. He's not mobile. You'd have to come to our place. Your advert said you had a portable machine."

The man grunted, then picked a soiled napkin up off the desk and spat into it. "I do. You don't look like can afford it."

Kim took a deep breath, trying to quell the flare of hope that ignited in his breast. It was a slim chance, at best, but he had to try, for Raeden's sake. "I ... I can pay you some now, and then make payments with each paycheck," he said. Worried that the man would reject him outright, he hurried to add, "If it works ... I mean, as soon as he's mobile, we can pay you in full—even some extra for floating us." Kim held his breath and tried to look sincere and humble, not desperate.

The man steepled his fingers and looked at Kim without saying anything for a long moment. Kim yanked on his long braid, running his thumb down the plaits. It was a nervous habit.

The man stood up and he seemed huge, although certainly not nearly as tall as Raeden. He probably weighed as much as Raeden, though, Kim thought. His stomach bulged out over the top of his pants, making his silhouette half again as wide as it was tall.

"I am not running a charity," the man said, his voice dripping with acid. "Nor am I a loan shark." As he spoke he stepped around the desk, moving out of the shadows until he was standing in front of Kim.

Kim forced himself not to shrink away. In the light from the lamp he could see that the man's shirt stretched taut over his massive belly, showing every roll of fat. It was stained dark at his armpits and the acrid stench of his body odor permeated the air.

The man stared down at him with his piggy eyes, his expression unreadable. Kim felt a wave of heat rush through him as adrenalin coursed through his body. He really wanted to run, but was afraid the predator would give chase.

Instead, he looked up at the man boldly, holding his ground even as he felt his heart beating frantically in his chest. The man's posture was not overtly threatening, but there was something insidious about him. A smile curled the man's lips, but it was not friendly.

"The cost per treatment is $80,000. And most people need more than one treatment."

"Eighty thousand dollars!" Kim repeated, his mind boggling at the price. There was no way—no way!—he could ever pay that back. He had $150 per paycheck in disposable income if he was careful with his food and power consumption, and some of that was need for incidentals. He wondered if Raeden even had that much money.

Suddenly the man reached out and grabbed a firm hold of Kim's braid. His other pudgy hand slipped under Kim's chin, and with a tug on the braid, he forced Kim's face up to look at him. Terror streaked through Kim, but he was caught fast. The man's fingers had a sour, smoky smell. Opisigs, Kim guessed.

"I can think of a way you can pay me." The man's voice slithered over Kim's skin like a snake.