by Sara Kincaid
Gage patted Leo on the shoulder before releasing his hand and giving me a wink. “Hard times, mate. But don’t you worry. Finn here is more bark than anything.” He motioned for us to follow and turned, walking back into the cave beneath the rubble of the giant building that had once stood there.
The jagged mouth soon gave way to a smooth-walled interior that curled down into the ground. Just past the entrance sat a grungy patched-up transport, covered with scratches and dings. Lines of freshly welded metal zigzagged across its body. This was how we were going to get into the City? Would it even fly? It looked like it was barely held together. People were rushing around, filling the vehicle with old glass bottles and covered plastic containers. I watched the chaos with interest. “Do you live out here?”
Gage nodded. “Yes. Somewhat better than in the City. Not so many soldiers around. Lots more opportunity.” He waggled his eyebrows at that and then drew Leo to his side by wrapping a rough arm around his shoulders. “Leo here knows all about opportunity.” Leo gave an unenthusiastic laugh. My stomach tightened.
As we wound farther down into the cavern, tiny lanterns lined the hallway, leaving an eerie glow and dancing shadows. “Let’s go into my office and chat.” Gage led us through a large fissure in the rock. Inside was a space with enough room for the three of us to sit on short stools. I chose the one closest to the entrance, still unsure of this new person. Leo and Gage sat and leaned forward, resting their elbows on their knees. “So, what’s this about? Three years ago, I smuggle you out of the City. That’s three years with no word, nothing. Now you want back in? What gives, Leo? You left your family, your business. I’ve had little interaction with the group on the inside since you disappeared.”
Leo cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair. Dust clouded the air. “I’ve been busy working on a new project. Can’t discuss the particulars, of course. No hard feelings. You understand, right?”
Gage frowned, but nodded. “Are you sure things are still going?” What things Gage referred to, I didn’t know. But one glance at Leo warned me not to ask any questions. He was on edge, which meant he didn’t completely trust the people around us. Gage’s hair was long and shaggy, a light brown that matched his mustache. He was tall like Leo, but wide and thick in his torso. His shirt creased over a small stomach. His square face was lined with exhaustion. What sort of business was Leo wrapped up in? What wasn’t he telling me? I set my lips into a firm line. I hadn’t misjudged him, had I? He wasn’t really part of the CPA...or worse. My body went numb as I tried to imagine something worse than the CPA.
“Of course I’m sure!” He waved an irritated hand. His voice echoed around the small room. The flat walls glistened with bits of sand in the lamplight.
“And what about her?” Gage nodded in my direction.
“What about her?” Leo echoed, growing defensive. His voice lowered to a growl and his body tensed.
Gage held up two hands in defense. “Whoa. Okay there, buddy. I have to ask, you know. Do you trust her?”
“Absolutely,” he replied, not missing a beat. I felt his gaze flicker over me.
“Wish you’d tell me what you’re playing at.” Gage shifted his position, leaning back against the wall. He glanced my way and I met his gaze silently.
“Can’t.”
“Oh, I know. It’s a big secret. A huge one. I can tell by the size of that ream of fabric you have in your pack. Finn’s eyes were as big as plates when he ran in here to find me. You want things locked down. No noise. No talk. I’ll guarantee it as best I can. But, once you leave this place,” he shrugged his wide shoulders, his brown eyes kind but firm. There was more he wanted to ask, but Leo had already shut him down. “I can’t protect you out there.”
Leo sat up straight as a board and stretched his legs. “I appreciate your warning. But we don’t need protection. We’ve got it under control. All I need is for you to give us a ride. None the wiser.” He pulled the fabric from his pack. He must have taken it from the house in East Farm that day when we were wandering through it.
Gage’s eyes bulged as he took in the size and color of it. Tentatively, he reached out and touched the blue threads. “Where did you get that?”
The corners of Leo’s mouth quirked but the warmth didn’t rise to the rest of his face. “It’s a secret.” He held out the fabric for Gage to take. “So do we have a deal?”
Gage wrapped his arms around the proffered payment, cradling it like a baby. “Definitely.” He looked up for a brief moment. “Transport leaves at midnight. Don’t be late.”
The City did not have the vegetation like the farms, but it was certainly alive. I stepped awkwardly out of the rogue transport into the arms of an unfamiliar man. Leo immediately took my hand and led me away from the vehicle and the small swarm of people who began to busily unload the cargo.
We had landed in an old abandoned parking lot just as the foggy dawn began to glow. All the street lights had been blown out. The remaining poles bore marks of gunfire and as I looked around us, I noticed how many people openly wore air guns strapped to their waists or arms. “Come on,” Leo tugged me gently forward. Our footsteps were quiet as we melted away.
As the day lengthened, the City pulsed with a heartbeat all its own. The streets and alleyways were like veins and people flooded through them. Unlike on the farms, everywhere I looked, I could see the influence of the corporations that had once made their money from oil. Flashing lights of plastered billboards with scrolling advertisements. Ads on transports, doorways and more. Transports whizzed by us, their noisy motors drowning out all other sound.
Nothing could have prepared me for the City. It was everything the farm wasn’t. It was noisy with hundreds of communal and personal transports whizzing by us. People wore the same colorless hemp clothing that was common on the farms. But the styles and variations available were far more numerous than what we had at home. Hemlines were of varying lengths, or even non-existent. Many women sported frayed and artfully tailored sleeves. For those who could afford it, vintage was the epitome of style. People walking around in the hemp-based clothing looked on, envious of those who dotted the streets with color.
The buildings were so high, they blotted out most of the gray sky. The tips of their impossible spires idled in the smoggy clouds like fingers trailing through water. With the exception of the people wearing vintage strands of cloth, there was no color anywhere. Transports were a neutral gray, though they were shiny and reflected the light of the sun painfully into my eyes. Everything appeared drained, even the people on the street. Wistfully, I thought of home, where the silence was punctuated with the humming of our tools and the buzzing of insects.
People hurried past, oblivious to the presence of others. I stood close to Leo and followed him as he navigated the grimy streets. Unfamiliar scents of decay and overflowing trashcans assaulted my nostrils. Frequent calls for “Pop,” floated around us from people seated along the sidewalks, begging for attention.
I stepped past an impossibly scrawny man wearing a rainbow polka-dotted scarf. It must have been discarded, for he could not have afforded such a luxury. As we approached him, he didn’t move and I would have thought him dead had I not been able to sense his life energy flitting in and out.
He grabbed my leg in a throw of desperation as we passed and my heart leapt to my throat. “Pop! Pop! Do you have Pop? Give it to me!” His hands shook and I was instantly connected to his life energy. The contact made me dizzy and I could feel the drug running through his veins. For a moment, my world was dazzled with pops of color that flashed like bolts of lightning and I felt a humming build in my chest. I screeched in surprise. Leo turned back and hurried to my side to disentangle me from the man. Once I was free, he grabbed my hand and led me along. “Why are they asking for Pop?” I asked, winded. Pop was how they tested for Curare. Why was this City dweller begging for it?
Leo grimaced in r
esponse. “It’s a hallucinogen. Highly addictive. It’s usually administered orally in street-drug form and intravenously for the higher grades. Somehow it affects the sight. You see colors wherever you go. Color is hope to people in the City. Pop gives them a way out, an escape from their lives. It’s the reality we face. It’s just that some of us can’t face it. It’s as common as cigarettes once were.” As soon as we had entered the City, Leo had adjusted to the tempo of life. He seemed naturally in tune with this bustling world. He stood a little taller, spread his stance to take up more space. His mouth drew into a thin line, mirroring the expressions of everyone else who walked by us.
“How do they get it?”
“The CPA uses Pop to test for Curare, as you know. Everyone is exposed to it.”
My mouth opened in surprise. “Since when have they been testing City folk for Curare abilities?”
“Yeah, they didn’t used to test City dwellers. Pop’s been on the City streets for decades, though. Even before Curare.” He paused as if letting those thoughts sink in. “It really is rather ingenious,” he continued.
For a while it seemed that we were in a wealthy district. The concrete was solid, the streetlights flickered and sleek buildings rose up out of the ground. But all at once, we were surrounded by ramshackle buildings, disintegrating with time and lack of care. Broken doorways gaped and strangers peeked out of windows, watching us with eyes brimming with suspicion. “Where are we going?” In the dingy, poorer area where we found ourselves, addicts crawled and clawed, their cries for Pop mingling with the hum of the transports. The grime was thick and dung-like, but with no bugs to break it down, the sloppy mess just sat there. I covered my nose with my hand and made a face.
“Stop worrying. You can trust me.”
“It’s not that,” I insisted, my voice muffled behind my hand.
“What is it then?”
“Leo? Leo is that you?” A voice called out from a dank alleyway, his features obscured by the shadows.
Our conversation momentarily forgotten, Leo turned and looked for the source of the voice. A man with wrinkled skin and scraggly brown hair emerged from the shadows. His clothes were rumpled and he walked with a limp, leaning on a cane. He wore dozens of strands of colorful fabric. Red, orange and yellow, the colors dazzled my eyes. “Reverend? Is that you?”
“Leo. I can’t believe it. How’s business, my boy?” The strange man limped forward on gnarled feet and swollen ankles to pat Leo on the shoulder.
Leo’s smile was genuine. “Rev, it sure is good to see you. I’m out of the business now, I’m afraid. Or, rather, the business has changed.”
Reverend’s brown eyes grew large with disbelief. “You’re out of the Pop ring? Get out!”
“Pop ring?” My voice was uncharacteristically high and it echoed down the alleyway. I had barely let down my guard; I was beginning to trust this strange City transplant with ties to the farms. He led me to the City, to the center of my fears, all for the sake of Pop.
“Yes ma’am. Leo here was a regular old drug lord back in the day.”
Leo laughed uncomfortably as he glanced at the look on my face. “I’m about as much of a drug lord as you are an actual Reverend, Rev.”
The Reverend slapped his knee and gave a robust chuckle. The cane, which he had hooked on his elbow, slid down his arm as he chortled. “Ain’t it the truth. Where you headed?”
“To the den.”
The Reverend’s eyes grew misty at the mention of the den. He stared off into space. “Oh, the den. Oh, yes. She’s there, you know.” He nodded his head, knowingly.
“Who’s there?” I asked.
Leo shook his head at me before turning back to Rev “Yes. We’ll see you around, Rev. Business to attend to.”
Rev bowed his head. The top of his head was smooth and hairless and I could see knots. “Yes. Of course, m’boy.” His voice was thick and he had a strange lilt to his speech. He nodded his goodbye and tottered away, the tap of his cane keeping the beat of his limping slide away from us.
The sidewalks were cracked and uneven beneath my feet and I looked down at the dry ground to avoid tripping. “So you’re a Pop dealer?” It was difficult to keep the accusatory tone out of voice. “You lied.”
“No, I didn’t lie. I just didn’t tell you everything.”
“Same difference,” I replied flatly. “But you deal Pop?” Skepticism creased my brow and I brushed a strand of hair from my eyes.
“Yes. But the Pop serves two purposes. First, it is a cover. Second, it provides money for our cause.”
“What cause?”
Leo paused and looked around us. The streets were barren and silent, the roads cracked and broken. Even so, he took my hand and pulled me into a darkened alleyway. He waited a moment and when he finally spoke, his voice was hushed so that I had to lean toward him to hear. “The Pop den is a cover for our true mission. The Curare. Like I’ve been saying all along. You see, my family is particularly invested in the Curare. I know you haven’t always trusted me. But you can. Truly. I have not trusted you with my own secret and perhaps that is why you have remained skeptical about me.”
It was true. My skepticism of Leo had pervaded our interactions since he’d first arrived in South Farm. It was only more recently that I’d begun to let down my guard. I bowed my head and then blinked, trying to clear my vision, for tears welled in their depths, burning on the edge of truth.
Leo touched my cheek gently with his fingers and tilted my chin so that I could not escape his gaze. His eyes were dark and his voice soft. “Aster is my grandmother.”
My lips formed her name in silence and unbidden, my hand rose to cover Leo’s, still pressed against my cheek. My brow creased in surprise before doubt tightened my chest. “Aster? You mean, Bram’s Aster?”
Leo nodded his head slowly. “And Bram was my grandfather.”
“How was Bram your grandfather? He had children? Curare can’t have children!” My voice was shrill. I’d thought that children would always be impossible. Everything I thought I knew about Bram’s history, about being a Curare, it was all wrong.
“He and Aster. It’s not something that many people know.”
“I thought Bram’s girlfriend betrayed him. Brandi?” I stepped back and reached for the solid comfort of the crumbling wall behind me and leaned against it.
“Oh, she did. That’s all true,” Leo confirmed with another nod of his head. “Aster loved Bram for years. They met at university. Aster’s been in hiding. We protect her.”
I struggled to wrap my mind around this hidden story of Bram and turned away. I believed that everything ended with Bram’s death. The theory was that Aster had been killed by the uprisers or taken by the CPA after its formation. To know that Aster was alive and relatively free overwhelmed me. She’d been in hiding. Like me. “From who? She’s not a Curare, too, is she? So the CPA wouldn’t be interested in her.”
“The CPA would be very interested in her. They may think that she has secret knowledge that Bram revealed to her. And then there are the rest of us. Our family. We’re descended from a Curare. Bram’s the only Curare to ever father a child. And, as you know, no female Curare has ever given birth. If they knew about us, they would take us and we’d never see the light of day again.” I fell into the depth of his gray eyes. “Just like you.”
Suddenly the truth behind Leo’s life essence made sense. It mimicked the flow of the earth because he was part Curare. He didn’t have any of our abilities. But his blood echoed our song. I held my breath. Was it true?
I had my answer in their shared features and in his blood. Leo’s story played on every inner desire I’d ever felt, desires I had never even registered because of their improbability. To think that a Curare could have a real relationship, one that was strong enough to even extend beyond death, that Curare could bear children; all of these things gave me ho
pe for my life, which I had seen as a path of nothing for so long.
The buzzing of the City faded into the background and as I looked at him, I saw the struggles of Leo’s path etched into his young face and his hooded eyes and wondered how I hadn’t seen it before. The map they drew on his features told of many paths traveled in search, in hope and in sorrow. His smile was always ready, but beneath it, I read the battles. I stepped toward him then and took his cheek in my hand. “Who are you, really?”
“I am Leo, a City Slicker who moved to South Farm.”
We grinned at each other as he recited the words that were both true and yet not so true and I was reminded of times on the farm when I had been frustrated with him and had thrust the insult of Slicker upon him. “For real, Leo. Tell me for real.”
He spoke softly and I had to lean my ear close to his mouth to hear his response and beneath the surface, I drifted out, latching on to the steady drumbeat of his soul, understanding finally why it sang with the voice of the earth. “I am Leo, grandson of Aster and Bram. Descended from a Curare. The first Curare. I have been on a mission to find a rumored rogue Curare in hiding either out in No Man’s Land or in South Farm.” He pulled away and looked into my eyes and straight through me into my soul. “I have been searching for you, Vea. I have been looking for you for a long time. We were terrified that the CPA would find you before us.”
“And now, you have found me.”
“Yes. So I have.” We lingered near one another and, for a moment, I thought he would kiss me once again.
“You there. Don’t move!” We turned to see a City officer striding up to us. “We’ve heard some reports of drug activity in this area. Let me see your papers.” The officer was thin and authoritative. His face was pockmarked and he spoke with the air of someone who was used to confrontation.
I looked at Leo in a panic. He took my hand and squeezed it gently before turning to the officer. He pulled the laminated card from his pack and handed it to the officer. “Of course, sir.” He glanced at me and offered a small smile. “You see, we have an unapproved pregnancy.”