Scythe

by Christina Bauer

  Oh, yeah. These dudes are totally dead.

  Some corner of my mind—the part that’s a normal human being—screams in horror. I just asked the Lacerator to go after the Merciless. The vision had them running away, not transformed into Swiss cheese.

  There isn’t time to worry about that, though. Godwin’s still alive. Plus, the doctor controls the Lacerator with that black container. Maybe he can order the creature to come after me, too.

  I need to escape and fast.

  Launching into the next part of the escape plan, I chuck the chem darts into the ground. As each vial hits the earth, a plume of blue smoke rises into the air, creating a wall of haze that’s impossible to see through. Even better, it contains a sedative that works almost instantly, smells like lilac, and doesn’t affect me. My friend Zoe made these. She’s a genius with chemicals.

  A moment later, the smoke vanishes. Doctor Godwin lies on the ground, snoring up a storm. He grips the container tightly against his chest.

  I quickly scan the scene. There are warehouses, dead bodies, a sleeping doctor, and a gravel walkway.

  No sign of the Lacerator.

  Then I notice it.

  The doctor’s dark container rattles furiously. New emotions tear through me. Like before, they aren’t mine.

  A chill of fear.

  The zing of panic.

  A heavy weight of grief.

  That’s the Lacerator, I know it.

  I step toward the doctor, my arms outstretched. A single thought echoes through my head.

  Grab that container.

  Deep voices sound in the distance, breaking up my thoughts.

  “Backup needed, warehouse 942!”

  “Bring more gash guns!”

  “Hurry! Hurry!”

  I’d know those particular tones anywhere. Only the Merciless have their speech electronically enhanced to sound extra low and evil. More are coming and fast.

  Their cries snap me back to reality. Am I out of my mind? Hanging around here is suicide. And what would I do with a pet Lacerator anyway? The plan was always for me to escape solo. I shake my head and refocus.

  It’s beyond time to leave.

  So I run like hell.

  Chapter 5

  My hell-running continues until I’ve left RCM1 far behind. Soon I reach Old Williamstown, or what’s left of it. Time was, thousands of people lived here. Then came the so-called War of Liberation—where the Authority defeated the United Americas government—and this place got leveled, along with most of the continent. Now it’s nothing but rubble.

  Keeping up my frantic speed, I rush to the outskirts of town until—yes!—I reach the ruins of an old gas station. Like everything else these days, the building is totally crushed. Red bricks lay in heaps all around. A smashed-up gas pump slumps sideways on the gravel. Good thing there’s a metal hatch around back; it leads to a secure basement. Much as I’d love to race home, I need to stop there.

  And worse, I must call the Scythe.

  Why am I pausing in my run-a-thon to chat with a crime lord, or to be accurate, with his minion Fritz? I can’t risk the Authority finding out about me and the massacre at RCM1. Right now, I’m a girl in a hoodie. But if they ID me? Mom and I are toast. But to hide us requires hacking that’s beyond my skills, mostly because it involves more than computers. You need to know people in low places.

  That means the Scythe and Fritz.

  Fortunately, this hidden basement is a great spot for calls. Yanking up the metal hatch, I find a familiar set of stairs leading into the ground. A minute later, I’m in the basement itself, pacing around a dusty room while typing an emergency access code into my smart watch. This lets Fritz know I need to talk.

  Seconds tick by as I wait for Fritz to reply. My mind whirls through the events at RCM1. What happened to me? There’s been research about people who become so panicked, they lift up freight cars or get visions of the future. But I’ve never heard about anyone creating a mental link with a monster made from particles before.

  My watch plays a few bars of Another One Bites The Dust, breaking up my thoughts. That specific ringtone means Fritz is taking my call. I exhale. Soon a thin beam of light pours out from the side of my watch, casting a hologram image on the opposite wall of the concrete room.

  It’s video of Fritz, and he’s beating someone up.

  My stomach twists. Damn, I want to help Fritz’s latest victim. From experience, I know my best option here is to distract Fritz himself.

  “Hey, there.” I clear my throat. Twice.

  Fritz is a mountain of a man, what with his stocky build, square face, and white spiked-up hair. He always wears overalls and speaks with a German accent. That is, the accent shows up when other people are around. It’s totally fake; Fritz thinks it makes him seem more ominous.

  Like the guy needs help. Sheesh.

  The hologram shows a prone body curling up on the floor before Fritz. Since the victim’s facing away from me, all I can tell is that the man’s wearing a suit. Fritz boots the dude once more in the stomach. I wince.

  “This better be good,” says Fritz. “As you can see, I’m busy.”

  “Will you stop kicking that guy while we talk? He’s unconscious.”

  “Who says that?”

  “You’re not using your fake German accent, and you only do that when we’re alone. Which means the guy is out. Enough already. Please. We need to chat.”

  “I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t you come to my office? You know the Scythe doesn’t like electronic comms.”

  “Come on. It’s an emergency.”

  Fritz gives the guy one last kick and then turns to me. “What do you need this time?”

  For a big bad killer, Fritz can be a total baby. If I let him start whining, he’ll never stop.

  “Hey,” I counter. “Don’t give me attitude. I make you and the Scythe a ton of credits.” In fact, I started building their illegal science gizmos when I was eleven. That was the same year Fritz became my handler. Dad died right after I was born, so Fritz is actually the closest thing I have to a father. Not a comforting thought.

  “So?” asks Fritz. “Deliver that magnetic enhancer by 6 am. That gives you around five hours. Make it happen.”

  “I will. Only one part left.”

  “Then don’t bother me.” Fritz steps nearer to the holo-camera in his office, the device that’s projecting his image. Walking closer means Fritz plans to shut off our link.

  “Hold up there. I just ran into the Merciless, Doctor Godwin, and the Lacerator at RCM1.”

  Fritz pauses. Even in projected form, his ice-blue eyes bore into mine. “Define ran into.”

  “The Merciless are dead, I left Godwin unconscious, and the Lacerator is back in its container cage. Can you fix this?”

  Fritz’s voice lowers. “Define fix.”

  “Erase any traces of my presence. I wore my hoodie but you could still see the bottom half of my chin. That might identify me.”

  “Did you speak?”

  “A sentence or two.”

  “That’s more than enough for an ID and you know it.” Fritz folds his massive arms over his barrel chest. “This’ll be tricky.”

  No question what Fritz’s arm-folding routine is about. He wants to know what’s in it for him.

  “I can pay you,” I offer. “The Scythe promised me 3,000 credits for my magnetic enhancer. Clean up this mess, and you can keep 1,500.”

  Fritz glares for a long minute. As the moments tick by, my palms turn slick with sweat. Sure, I have other customers who could clean this up, but I’d have to sleep with one eye open for the rest of my life. When it comes to erasing messes, no one’s more connected than the Scythe.

  Finally Fritz speaks. “Should I know how you walked away from a bunch of dead Merciless guards and one passed-out Godwin?”

  “It’s like this.” My mind races, trying to think how to slowly introduce what’s easily the craziest experience of my life. “I think Godwin’s plannin
g a citizen’s cleansing in this area.”

  “Not a chance. The Scythe pays big bucks to keep the Authority out of our backyard.”

  I lift my brows, impressed. I had no idea the Scythe did that, but it makes sense.

  “Try again,” says Fritz.

  On second thought, there’s no point lying or beating around the bush. Fritz can sniff out untruths easily, especially from me. And the man has zero patience. “I developed a telepathic connection with the Lacerator and it helped me escape.”

  Fritz stares at me for a long second. Then, he bursts out in laughter. “So you had a psychotic break and don’t remember how you got free.”

  I shrug. “That’s possible, too.”

  “You think?” asks Fritz. “Oh, that story is just too good. Now I have to help you.”

  I grin. “Thanks.”

  “But there’s a condition.” He jabs his hefty finger in my direction. “You move into one of our safe houses.”

  I set my fist on my hip. “You know I can’t do that.”

  “Why? The Scythe’s condos tricked out with the latest tech. Plus they’re totally off-grid.”

  “But Mom can’t join me there.”

  Fritz sniffs. “Your mother’s been catatonic for years.”

  A jolt of protective energy moves up my torso. “That’s not true. She home-schooled me for ages. Even now, Mom still has plenty of good days. She’s all the family I’ve got.”

  I actively ignore the thought that Luci may be alive. That’s just too much.

  “No one watches over undesirables anymore, family or otherwise. Let the Authority take care of your mother.”

  “You know what that means. They’ll kill her.”

  “So what? They terminate everyone who doesn’t meet their standards. Why should she be any different? Deal’s off.”

  I ball my hands into fists. There’s no explaining family to Fritz. The guy believes in the Authority’s motto, empathy is weakness. Time to appeal to his sense of greed instead of duty.

  “What if you keep all 3,000 credits? That’s a good offer. My magnetic enhancer is unique. Nothing else on the market even comes close. And I can’t finish it when I’m dead.”

  Fritz slowly rubs his square chin. “And you’ll still deliver the enhancer by 6 am?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “And I keep every credit?”

  “That’s what the science girl said.”

  “Then I’m in.” He lets out another dramatic sigh. “Although, I really wish you’d go into a safe house, Meims. You worry me sick.”

  I shake my head. You worry me sick. For Fritz, that’s a tsunami of fatherly sentiment.

  “Oh, and too bad about the 3,000 credits,” he adds with a chuckle. “Sucker.” This time, Fritz marches forward and shuts off the comm link entirely. The basement around me goes dark.

  Despite the inky blackness surrounding me, I can’t help but smile. Too bad, my butt. I always build back-up copies of my inventions. If the Scythe won’t pay me 3,000 credits, I’ll find another buyer who will.

  Next stop: my home and magnetic enhancer.

  Chapter 6

  A half-hour later, I march up to the derelict factory where Mom and I live. Old plastic signs hang on cockeyed angles on the brick buildings, all of them reading: Ozymandias Chemical. A gentle breeze cools the sweat on my face. The adrenaline rush from my encounters with the Lacerator and Fritz are all long gone. Now I just feel bone tired.

  The main factory is a long, two-story affair nested in a labyrinth of smaller structures. If you look carefully enough, you can still see stuff painted on the bricks.

  Remember your eye protection.

  Caution! Dangerous chemical storage!

  All overtime must be pre-approved.

  Our entrance sits at the far end of the main building. I approach the rusted door, enter my key code into the alarm system, and step inside. What happens next is more of a reflex than a thought.

  Check on Mom.

  Right off our entrance, there’s a small storage-room-turned-kitchen. It’s Mom’s favorite spot, so I go there first. Sure enough, she’s in her chair by the window, watching bits of trash roll down the cracked sidewalk. Mom’s already in her pajamas with a robe tied tightly at her waist. The woman I pay to look after my mother during the day—an older lady named Miss Edith—did her job getting Mom ready for bed.

  Speaking of Miss Edith, she sits at her favorite spot at the kitchen table. Miss Edith is a thin stick of a woman with short gray hair and a laser-sharp mind. She sets down her chipped teacup as I approach. “Hello, Meimi. How was basketball practice?”

  “Fine.”

  Miss Edith smacks her lips. “I thought you were attending a late night study session with your friends, Chloe and Zoe.”

  I pause just inside the kitchen door. Damn. I’d forgotten that I asked Miss Edith to stay late so I could supposedly study.

  Think fast, Meimi.

  “Here’s the thing,” I begin. “Zoe, Chloe, and I played basketball for a while. Then, we studied so hard. So, so, so hard. Whew!”

  Miss Edith drums her wrinkled fingers on the tabletop. “Really? May I see the books inside that backpack of yours?”

  I bite back the urge to groan. Miss Edith will not give up until I answer her honestly. “Okay, I didn’t really play basketball or join in a study session. I’m working on another science project for a customer.”

  “Meimi …”

  I huff out a breath. “We need the money.”

  “I understand that.” Miss Edith rises and puts her teacup in the sink. “You should be in school.”

  “Technically, the computer systems say I am in school. Every day.” I figured out that hack ages ago.

  “You know what I mean. The schools here may not impart anything useful. Honestly, you could teach them a thing or two. Even so, there’s the social aspect to consider. It’s not healthy for a young girl to spend hours working in a basement.”

  “Hey, I tinker in my bedroom too.”

  Miss Edith sighs. The sound reminds me of how Fritz did the same not so long ago. “Have it your way,” says Miss Edith. “But don’t expect me to sit here and say nothing.”

  “I would never.” Stepping up, I give Miss Edith a quick kiss on the cheek. She pretends not to smile.

  “You’re the best,” I say softly.

  “See you tomorrow, Meimi.” Miss Edith waves to Mom. “And you too, Rose.”

  Mom doesn’t reply, but that’s typical. My mother needs a few minutes to adjust to change, that’s all. Once Miss Edith is gone, I drag a chair beside Mom’s.

  “Hey, Mom. It’s me, Meimi.” Scooching closer, I pull out a box from my backpack. “Guess what? I got something new for my collection.”

  Mom blinks hard. That’s her way of trying to focus. For years, we consulted doctors about her condition. No one could figure out what’s wrong. In the end, the only thing we know is that Mom becomes catatonic for longer periods every day. Her forehead crumples as she scans the cardboard container in my hands. “Wha … wha …”

  I finish the sentence for her. “What is this?” I tear the box open. “A Star Wars alarm clock.” I gingerly pull out the plastic device, revealing a small plastic Darth Vader statue. A digital clock lies embedded in his chest. So awesome.

  Raising her shaking hand, Mom taps Darth’s head. “Good.” Her eyes crinkle as she gifts me a smile.

  My heart warms. This moment, right here. It’s what I love for.

  “R…” Mom strains to form the word. “R…”

  “RCM1? Yes, that’s where I went to get it. Things got a little crazy there tonight.” The auto-guard’s report comes back to me in a flash. Luci may be alive.

  Memories flood my mind.

  I’m six and Luci’s eighteen. We stand in my old bedroom at our government house in Malden, a suburb of the Boston Dome. The furniture’s a mishmash of rickety tables and chairs the government painted yellow. Luci kneels before me. She’s all things lovely an
d elegant as she explains why I won’t go to school today. “Mom’s having another episode,” says Luci. “You’ll work with me now, Pumpkin. We’ll use pretend names and play clean up.” Without question, I follow her out the door. It’s my first day at RCM1.

  In my next memory, I’m twelve and Luci’s twenty-four. This time, we’re in the kitchen of our house in Malden. Luci’s new fiancée, Josiah, waits outside. Mom sits at the chipped yellow table, looking like an older version of Luci: white blonde hair and aristocratic features. Mother silently stares at the floor while Luci explains that she and Josiah are moving to the Boston Dome. Luci turns to me. “Don’t worry, Pumpkin. I’ll send you plenty of updates and money.” We never hear from her again.

  Then I recall a scene from five months later. I’m tossing out old boxes from the Ozymandias Chemical factory. Soon after Luci left, the Authority announced another citizen’s cleansing for Malden. Mom definitely would’ve gotten scooped up, so we moved in here. As I work away, a scream sounds from the storage room we’re using as a kitchen. Rushing in, I find Mom sitting by a window, a tablet in her hand. I scoop the device from her palm and read aloud. “Casualties Announced In Latest Wave Of Boston Plague.” Scanning the list, I find the names Josiah and Luci DeBurgh.

  My world shatters.

  Luci is gone.

  I grip the plastic clock more tightly in my hands. The question tumbles from my lips. “Do you ever think Luci might still be alive?”

  A wild look enters Mom’s blue eyes. “Yes.”

  I lean in closer. This kind of clarity is rare from my mother. “What makes you say that?”

  “Convergence.”

  “That’s right, there’s a magnetic convergence coming up.” With so much excitement, I almost forgot. This particular variety of inter-dimensional storm happens every year around my birthday. Sadly, that’s also the day my father died. Needless to say, it’s never been a big holiday in our house.

  “Convergence,” repeats Mom. “Luci.”

  I frown. “Not understanding you.”

  “Important!” Mom grips my wrists. “Luci!”

  “Okay.” In reality, I have no idea what Mom is talking about, but it’s pointless to push her for more information. That only makes her more upset.