The Tides That Bind Us [AfroFuturism]

Cammi

She flashed the card. "It's a good thing we have a ticket for the shuttle then."

"Is that the card Elliot gave you?" Roddi asked. She responded with a nod and shuffled on her feet. "But...?"

"It's different." She lowered her voice. "The tickets they're giving that guy are red."

"So this will single us out." Roddi swore.

Pharah kissed her teeth. "We've already come all this way. We may as well go and it's not like we have any other options." The edge in her voice belied how tired they all were.

I agree, Jade signed. We have nowhere else to go.

"Alright." Zaharah squared her shoulders and led the group to the sleek black shuttle. It reminded her of a tour bus, except without a celebrity's name and face smacked on its side. Most of the tourists sat inside, but their buzzing anticipation transcended the windows. She stepped up to the conductor but kept the card palmed so he wouldn't see it.

The man gave them a friendly bow and a smile that could light up a night sky. "Are you all here to visit the Icarus?"

Icarus... Her heart quickened at the sound of the name, but her mind couldn't decide which emotion to associate it with. "I-I guess." She flashed the card with a shaking hand.

The conductor's smile faltered for the barest second, and he accepted the card with a gloved hand. "Are these people all with you?"

"Yes." Her stomach clenched hard, and she swallowed to keep her lunch down. This was the end of the line for them. If this went south, they'd have to accept defeat and whatever consequences came along with it.

"Please come aboard, we'll be leaving shortly."

They stepped up into the shuttle and grabbed some vacant seats up front. Zaharah stuffed their bags underneath. The doors slid shut, locking them in with the tourists and the chatter and their own dread. She clutched the micro metal to her chest as the shuttle took off. It zoomed down the street, faster than a shuttle should, the engine's hum undercutting the EDM coming through the speakers.

Zaharah's leg shook, making the micro metal clink in her lap. Outside the window trees drifted by, dotted by orange, late-afternoon light. She wasn't familiar with the New Andros area, other than it was one of the last parts of the 700 to be completed, and most of it was still dense forest.

As the shuttle slowed down, Roddi nudged her and pointed out the window. Through a break in the trees was a wide road flanked by a little white building, and at its end sat an airship. She couldn't see much of the ship itself beyond the balloon, which was emblazoned with a gold Icarus, the same one that graced the back of the hoodie Pharah wore. The inside of the shuttle turned into a disco as people snapped photos and recorded video.

The music softened and the conductor's voice came over the intercom a moment later. "Everyone with a red ticket, this is your stop." He pulled the shuttle alongside the little building and the doors opened with a hiss.

The buzzing energy amplified as the tourists piled out of the shuttle, leaving only Zaharah and her group.

"Everyone else, sit tight. You stop is but a short way from here." And the music filled the shuttle once more.

Zaharah shifted in her seat and clasped her hands together. A line of people formed outside the little building, all smiling faces of parents and excited chatter of children. She envied their unabashed, carefree happiness.

The shuttle released a hiss and continued down the road, through the trees, the EDM music shifting to the lighter sounds of Bordereaux. Into The Sun, one of Zaharah's favourite songs from back in high school. She'd listen to it while did reps on the field behind... Her memory went dark again. Behind where? She rubbed circles over her eyes. It would come back to her... eventually.

After ten more minutes of riding, the shuttle came to a metal gate, and Zaharah squinted at the buildings beyond it. The taller trees had been trimmed down to bare limbs and trunks in preparation for the storm. A winding drive led through the property, up to the two story building at its center. The shuttle drifted onto the grounds and rode past small homes with clipped lawns and hibiscus hedges.

They rolled to a stop in front of the biggest one, a two story behemoth with Victorian era influence. Exposed brick, big windows, a cylindrical tower ad clay tiled roof. Kind of tacky, Zaharah thought.

"Last stop," the conductor said over the intercom. "Thank you for riding with us today."

The group stood and quietly gathered their things. A few times, Zaharah caught the eyes of Roddi and Jade, saw the worry there. She wished she could tell them everything would be fine, but with the way this day was going, she wouldn't surprised if a dragon descended from the skies to burn them to a crisp.

She stepped off the shuttle behind everyone else and onto the cobblestone leading up to the front porch. Standing on said porch was a man dressed in grey slacks with a dress shirt, vest and tie. His salt and pepper dreadlocks were freshly tightened and pulled in an intricate braid that hung down his back, a square, black-rimmed glasses sat perched on his nose.

Jade looked at Zaharah with a raised eyebrow. You recognise him?

Zaharah shook her head.

As the shuttle pulled away, the man descended the steps but stopped a few feet away. His eyes roamed over each of them in turn, corners of his lips quirking into a frown.

Zaharah was about to speak, but Skorpi popped his head up from Jade's hood with a beep and trained his gaze on the man. He beeped again, louder, screechier, a shrill sound that made them all jump. The mechpet scurried down Jade's body to the ground and closed the distance separating them from Cammi.

He knelt and scooped Skorpi up in his gloved hands, and Skorpi ran over his head and around his shoulders, beeping like crazy.

"Who the hell is this guy?" Roddi asked, his voice a low whisper.

Shala rose from his hood and jumped onto his head. "Based on Skorpi's behaviour, I'd say he's an old friend."

The man cleared his throat and rose to his full height. "Excuse my manners," he said in a smooth baritone, while extending his hand. "Cameron Sanders. My friends call me Cammi."

Zaharah looked at the offered hand, then up at Cammi. "Any relation to an Aleesha Sanders?"

His smiled faded, and he retracted his hand, tucking it away in the pocket of his slacks. "Indeed. She is my sister."