《Fallout》
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Dressed in the grey of all sector security and police, a Chip Port guard descends the steps from the glass control room to assess the crowd bulging around the metallic gateway. The absence of sound is notable - children, men, women, all smudged from that day's work cleaning the Homestead - stand stock sill, waiting with bated breaths as they eye four platforms on either side of the road. Dove Militia stalk these upper tiers, Accuracy Assists turned on, the red dots of their sights trained on the masses. Fingers, hungry and eager, waver above the triggers, ready to dole out punishment for any perceived affront.
"All they had to do was sit and wait and eventually we'd bring ourselves to them." Slumped over, Tujo blows out his breath from the back seat. His eyes wander miserably over his hands, and the electric blue cuffs snug against his wrists. "We're real idiots."
"Says the king."
When Marava flaps her gums, it never made the situation better, and this little jab at Tujo was no different.
Tujo, however, responds in true, oblivious fashion. "Well, if I'm king," he puffs out his chest unduly, despite being sandwiched between Marava and Lilly, "I must really know what I'm talking about."
Marava snorts. "All bluster and no brains." She flips her hair over her shoulder, and raises her chin so she's looking down on Tujo from atop her high horse. Wherever Marava calls home, the air up that high must be pretty fucking thin.
As I pull up to the Chip Port section that's been isolated for land-traveling vehicles, I notice that our sputtering, half-dead van seems to have caught the attention of the overhead Militia. Though the port's floodlights bathe us in clinical white, the electric blue haze, created from so many bodies huddled together with Accuracy Assist on, is all I pay attention to. Right now, any one of them could see past the blinding light and through the windshield. They could glimpse the pulsing of my veins, the sweat as it gathers on my forehead, and just as easily, fire a bullet into my skull.
I let out a sharp breath, ease toward the red 'x' spray painted on the road, cut the engine once the front tires roll over it. "You ready?"
Tujo grimaces, and hefts his arms in front of Marava's face. She bristles, the skin between her eyebrows wrinkling as her eyes narrow in disdain. "You could have made these a little looser, Miss Perez." The last part of the sentence makes Marava's left eye twitch. Tujo grins and the light captured in that smile is enough to make the floodlights look like spent candles.
I shake my head. What an idiot.
When I think Marava's about to lash out at him - scrape her nails down his face, gouge his eyes out - she instead, returns a smile causing Tujo to flinch. Marava keeps at it, grinning calmly, kindly, projecting all the things she is not.
Tujo's not such an idiot that he can't sense the menace in her posture - the straight back, stiff shoulders, jutted chin. - poring off her in waves. His Adam's apple bobs and the first trickle of sweat runs down his cheek. "Had to make them tight," she says, a sugary-sweet tone slathering her words, and like one too many candied jellies, it's enough to make me sick. "Had to look authentic."
Tujo's eyes dart to his lap. Rubbing his hands together, he manages, "Ri-ri's don't look as tight." The jingle of metal rings out as his cuffs clank together. Tujo pouts.
Marava pats him on the shoulder. "Must have been a little oversight." Her nails dig into his flesh. "I guess I'll be more careful next time." Leaning in, she brushes a blond ringlet away from Tujo's ear. His face erupts into a blaze of embarrassment. "You should also try to be more careful with what you call me."
She twists her fingers and Tujo winces. Quint turns toward the pair and slaps Marava's hand. "The guard's coming. Enough."
He wields his words like a lion tamer would wield a whip and chair and its enough to get Marava to retract her claws.
I stiffen in the driver's seat, hands gripping the wheel. "Everyone remember the plan?"
Tujo and Lilly nod their heads. Quint blinks. A low grunt comes from Marava. Not all that reassuring, but it's enough.
A middle-aged man, his skin as ashen as his uniform, trudges up to the van and taps two gloved fingertips on the glass.
I roll the window down and come face to face with a pair of dull, brown eyes. "Praise Dove," the officer says.
Relief washes over me as I peer into his unencumbered face. No visor veils his eyes, no eerie blue of Accuracy Assist drips down his cheeks. Despite the lack of chin, ruddy complexion and trail of acne over his nose, he looks fairly pleasant. He even smiles, which deepens the wrinkles around his mouth giving him an elderly, gentle appearance.
No gun rests in his arm, or is slung over his shoulder. Instead, the only form of protection he has, hangs from a leather belt loop. The familiar cylindrical tube of a mini-cattle prod, sways as the man shuffles from foot to foot.
"Praise Dove," I say.
A name tag dangles from his crumpled lapel - Officer Sareesh Kundai. He takes note of my uniform and his eyebrows arch. "Are you Militia?"
I shake my head and point at the three red stripes laying horizontally across my shoulder. "Contractors," I say. "For the Birds."
Naming the Council's elite assassins elicits the same look of panic in Kundai's eyes as it would in anyone else's. Taking a step back, his head cocks to the side, where his partner stands rolling a cigarette between fingers under a lamplight. The other officer, noting Kundai's expression, gives him a disinterested shrug.
"Forgive me." Kundai straightens and runs a hand through his hair. There's not much left on his head to warrant him doing so, but I imagine its a nervous tick, bred from habit, more than anything else. Nervous ticks were also common after someone name dropped the Birds of Prey. "I haven't been told much about the," his voice dips and he leans in, his breath fogging up the window glass. "Situation. I didn't know Contractors had been called in." His face pales.
"Don't worry." I nod over my shoulder. Kundai leans in, spies the twins shackled to the floor. "We're on our way back to Center. Suspects in tow." I glance over my shoulder.
Kundai leans in, raises his hand light. Illumination floods the van, highlighting each of our grimy faces. I try to sit straighter, pull back my shoulders, add to my bulk to conceal the fact this uniform wasn't made for me.
The light lingers on the twins for a little too long. A lump forms in my throat. Had Kundai had access to the Network? Had Dove deemed the situation so dire, they gave lower sect security access to our files? Our faces? Did he know? My mouth goes dry.
Kundai shakes his head. "But they're kids," he says, shock painting his features.
"Yeah," I say, leaning my arm on the windowsill. "But you know kids these days. Virtual space ruins their minds. Stuffs them full of notions of grandeur. These two probably ran an illegal program on the Network, got the idea to be rebels and went to town with homemade explosives."
Kundai's gaze flits back to the twins. His Adam's apple bobs above the collar of his uniform. "Any casualties?"
I nod, grimly. "A few. Though most civilians had exited the Hall prior to detonation."
He nods and sticks his hand through the crack in the window. A silver wedding ban catches the light. "My husband and I will pray for them," he says, his eyes never leaving the twins. "To have follied at such a young age, it's not right to seek the full gamut of punishment." His fingers close around the glass pane. "Luckily our God is merciful, much as our Council."
If only. I force a smile. "That's kind of you."
Marava's nails tap the center console between myself and Quint and Kundai, as if first noticing her, stiffens immediately.
"Mind letting us through?" she says.
Kundai glances at his companion. Once again, the grey-clad officer can only shrug.
"Well, we're under strict order to..." his gaze flashes up at the Militia stalking the platforms.
Marava's eyes narrow. "Currently, we're part of the same faction giving your orders." She pats the red bands along her shoulder. "And our orders," she parts her lips and snarls, "which supersede a lowly Sect rat, are to transport these prisoners to Center for interrogation." Kundai shrinks back. "Do you need prayer to understand my meaning?" She hisses and even I can feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand on edge. This was Marava at her best, which was arguably the worst - cold, calculated, unforgiving and oppressive.
Kundai shakes his head. A bead of sweat runs down his chin and catches in the folds of saggy skin there. "I understand, Ma'am."
Marava growls. "Never call me Ma'am. Now, let us through."
Kudai gives her a curt salute and then motions toward the guard controlling the gate.
Quint sighs. "Thank god that's over." He skims the cheek where one of the El Accosta had popped him. Grazing the purpled flesh, he winces.
I put the car in drive. "Thank god your girlfriend's terrifying." The van lurches forward, its gears moaning in rusted protest. "You could give Dove a run for his money in a 'scariest people in the Brights' contest."
Tujo grins. "I'll host!"
"And I'll judge."
Quint frowns. "What do you mean? Was Dove here?"
Tujo's mouth drops and suddenly, all eyes are on me. Heat rises to my cheeks. My insides curdle. Chewing on my lip, I grip the wheel tighter as I lead the van toward the gate.
"Ten?" Quint taps his foot impatiently on the ground.
I take a breath. "Not in the flesh." Lilly lets a gasp escape her. Marava slams her fist down on the console so hard it breaks one of her nails. She flashes me her teeth. "Just in holographic form."
"And you didn't think to tell us?"
"Didn't really have the time what with the explosion and then you getting kidnapped."
Lilly blinks. "You were-"
"You should have made time," Quint snaps.
Marava flicks her bangs out of her eyes. "Is that why you killed that kid?"
I slam the breaks. Lilly smacks into my seat and Marava's forehead bounces off the console. Tujo flies backward, landing hard on his shoulder.
Between huffs, I notice I'm gripping the wheel tightly enough it looks like my knuckles will burst through my flesh. The Militia stop their patrols and watch from their aerial positions. Quint reaches for me, but I slap his hand away.
"What the hell was that for?" Marava sits up, rubbing a hand against her forehead.
Was the level crumbling? Was that why I was shaking? White spots dance across my vision.
"Ten," Quint says slowly. "You're shaking."
My teeth rattle inside my head. "So it's not the plate."
Quint reaches for me again, but Marava's the one to stop him. "Don't. She's insane."
As if the world had been reduced to its slowest setting, I turn, meet Marava's piercing gaze, raise my hand and slap her across the face. I want to relish in this moment, in her look of shock, but everything blurs. Tears trek down my cheeks.
"How," Marava snarls, nails raised and ready to come down and slash my face. "How dare you."
"How dare you! I did what needed to be done!"
She hesitates, mid-air.
Lilly pats my shoulder and the restraints around her wrists jingle. "I killed someone, Rima," I say. Her hand freezes and her face, so cherubic and bright, dims. "A kid, no older than you or Tuj. I shot him and then I stripped his corpse and put on his uniform." I yank the collar of my shirt. "This is his. Managed to get it off him without so much of a speck of blood staining the fabric."
"Sheesh," Tujo says. "That's messed up."
I whirl around on him. "Yeah, it is. Everything, in case you haven't noticed, is. And I killed him to make sure he wouldn't tell the other Accosta and bring them and the Birds down on us." My gaze meets Marava's. "Would you have preferred capture? Dove probably would have had us all expelled, but you would have made it through." I snarl. "Isn't that right, Head Cockroach? You would have proven your worth." Laughter spills from my mouth, foreign, hollow, mirthless. "How could you not? What with how vile a bitch you are."
"Ten!" Quint shakes my shoulder. "The Militia."
Restless legs wander back and forth along the platforms, their gaze turned on us, Accuracy Assist illuminating their faces. Red dots skim the hood of the van.
Kundai motions us forward. "You're all clear!" he shouts.
Quint grabs Marava's hands, yanks them down. She doesn't bother to look at him. "Now's not the time," he says. "Clearly."
I ease off the break, and settle back into my seat. The base of my neck twitches, the chip itching. My skin crawls and as I put my hands on the wheel, all I can see is that kid's eyes, helpless and pleading, hear the echo of the gun being shot, witness it's hasty retreat from the other side of boy's skull alongside a splatter of gore. His body, silent, unmoving, emptied of life.
As we drive under the gate, pausing before the locked other side, the cool sensation of the laser scanners runs over us, assessing our chips' authenticity. The moment of that boy dying will stay with me until I die. I'd be buried under it, well before my body met the incinerator.
The laser fades and the metallic gate opens onto a darkened road out of the sector. Guess Izzer knew his shit.
I tap the dot. "Della?" Static. "It's one-zero. We're headed back." I exhale.