Chromeheart

by Alia Hess

  Sasha stopped pushing and walked through the tall grass and dandelions to the bench. “Well, all Americans are related somehow. Couple hundred years ago there was no Islanders. Not even any islands over there. Everybody looked like Mainlanders. ‘Course, some Mainlanders have light skin and some have dark, but nobody file their teeth, don’t have same…” He made a circle around his face. “Can’t think of American word.”

  “Facial features?”

  “Yes. Not sure which came first—virus or Islanders.”

  Sasha had tried explaining NAHS to Lucky’s group, since everyone on the West Coast was ignorant of the cause of The Collapse due to religious superstition, but they already knew. Once the Eastern Russian team had started interviewing people a few years ago, word spread quickly through the populated cities, apparently. He had not added that the rest of the world now had the virus too, but figured they would find out about that eventually as well.

  Gentlewave adjusted his scarf. “You’ll never see a Maralti unless you go up north. They’re not travelers.”

  “I’m surprised to see Islander travel this far. No offense. I know you don’t want to tell me why you are traveling. But I thought most have preference to stay near Islands.”

  Dusty swung forward and jumped out of the swing into the grass. The rusty chain jangled as she pushed past it, joining Sasha near the bench.

  “Most Islanders never leave the Islands unless they’re on a naming quest. But Nis is… not progressive.” Gentlewave frowned. “They’re very closed-minded about people different than them. Sexual orientation included. And like your albino friend. I’m surprised he’s still living there.”

  Sasha shrugged. “I think maybe Nis is different now. He has Mainlander wife and they have baby. They seem happy. Can’t be too bad since she don’t want to leave.”

  “Really? I’ve never heard of such a thing on Nis. Can’t imagine Elder Redcloud being happy about that.”

  “No, no. Elder’s name is Quietbird. Trav’s cousin.”

  Gentlewave put a hand to his chin, his face carved with intense thought. “Interesting…”

  Dewbell looked at Dusty and signed, smiling. Gentlewave said, “Dusty, Dewbell says your lipstick is pretty.”

  Dusty beamed. “Thanks.”

  Sasha frowned. “You are wearing lipstick?”

  “Yes!” Dusty scowled, eyes smoldering. “Been wearing it all day! Earrings too.”

  He cringed. “I didn’t notice. Sorry. You always look beautiful. I just thought you did your eyeblack different today.”

  Her face softened a little. “I did. You like it?”

  “Yeah. Looks very nice.” Sasha studied her face. Her eyeblack lined her eyes delicately today, and small silver hoop earrings adorned her ears. He still couldn’t see the lipstick. “Why you trying to look so nice? For me?”

  “Yes!” Dusty hissed, face flushing. She glanced at Dewbell and Gentlewave, then stalked back to the swings. She sat in one, arms folded.

  Sasha took the swing next to her, heat creeping into his own cheeks. “I am not trying to embarrass you. You look very pretty.”

  Dusty swung gently, looking at the trees in the distance. “I was just thinking about the other day. When you thought I was a boy. Thought maybe I’d stop trying to look so tough. Look a little more girly. Maybe I’ll grow my hair out some too.”

  “You make me flattered to do it, but you look great no matter what. Don’t do that to impress me.”

  “Yeah?” She looked at him with a small smile. “Thanks.”

  He meant what he said; she looked beautiful any which way, but thinking about her with a bit more hair—and a shade of lipstick he could actually see—got his imagination, and his motor, running. Had Cal noticed her new look? Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea for her to try to look nicer… The idea of that cowboy with her again made his skin crawl.

  Dusty looked at her feet as she swung. She was still wearing his teal and pink striped shirt—a tainted shirt—one that smelled a bit like Cal’s musk when Sasha hugged her. Or maybe it was only his imagination. All the same, he said, “You know, I have more shirts you might like. Don’t have to wear that one all the time. I got great one. You want to see?”

  Dusty chuckled. “Sure.”

  Sasha hopped out of the swing and walked to his bag, which sat among their group’s personal effects in the grass. He pulled out a black tee with a rainbow cat face on the front and held it up as Dusty walked to him.

  “You have the weirdest clothes. It’s cool, though. Thanks.” After taking the shirt and turning away from him, she pulled off the one she was wearing. “Does everyone in Russia wear such crazy things?”

  He barely heard the question, eyes on the black band of Dusty’s bra. His gaze coasted over her creamy skin, small waist and curvy hips, then her winding snake tattoo—and a bite mark on her shoulder. Individual teeth imprints marked her soft skin in a deep, angry purple. Sasha’s stomach clenched, his face tightening. She donned the black shirt and turned around.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Where you get that bite? From Cal?”

  Dusty dropped her gaze, lip quivering. “Yeah.”

  Sasha grimaced. “I’m going to kill that guy—”

  “No. He paid me. Remember?”

  “But he can’t hurt you like that! That’s not right!”

  “It’s okay. They don’t hurt that much now.”

  “They? You got more than one? Where is that guy? I’m going to—”

  Dusty took his arm, face stony. “Just drop it, okay? It’s done. I’m not doing trades anymore. And I’m with you.” She attempted a smile. “I don’t want more fights between you guys. Please.”

  Sasha tried to steady his quivering hands, visions of his fist connecting with Cal’s nose playing through his mind. He hugged Dusty tightly, breathing in the fresh scent of her new shirt and trying to quash his anger. “Okay. Let’s talk about something different. Come sit with me.”

  He kicked ancient plastic bottles away from the base of a tree and sat, then pulled Dusty down beside him. She leaned in and he put an arm around her, staring at the sky as the sun dipped below the black, jagged silhouettes of Old World houses. A crooked water tower rose above the buildings in the distance.

  “I used to have cat. Black cat named Zola. She was very nice. Liked to sit in my lap when I was working on computer.”

  “Yeah? I used to see them all the time when I lived in Starburn. That’s a city near Hammerlink. The buildings aren’t new. People just fixed up some Old World skyscrapers the best they could and called it a city. I was in that gang I told you about, and our headquarters was in this old bank. I slept in a spot by the window on the second floor and every night I would see half a dozen cats in the alley below. They weren’t my pets, but I still gave them names. How do you say ‘cat’ in Russian?”

  “Koshka.” Sasha pictured Dusty as a younger girl, sitting on a dirty mattress in some rotting building with a bunch of older men, entertaining herself by naming the feral cats out the broken window. Were those the guys who took what they wanted from her and gave her nothing in return? Did she think about petting those cats while it was happening? That bite on her shoulder… Did she even know the life she’d lived so far was unfair? …Of course she did. That’s why she was trying to give a better life to the orphans in Hammerlink.

  He pressed his face against the top of her head. “Going to find you some good computer parts at that place of Lucky’s tomorrow. I’ll teach you which ones are best.”

  “Sounds good.” She yawned. “I’m just going to fall asleep on you right here.”

  Sasha shifted a bit to reach Dusty’s sleeping bag nearby. He dragged it over and untied it, pulling it on top of them. “Okay. You go to sleep then.” I’m going to sit here and protect you from Cal.

  The industrial park was not pleasant. Spears of twisted metal, hunks of wood, and shreds of rubber lay everywhere. Had a tornado recently gone through the area, or was this a common sigh
t? The debris-clogged street they walked down led past sprawling buildings in various states of disrepair, and warped semi trailers lay along large swaths of ancient tarmac.

  One building appeared to have suffered an explosion at some point. Piles of splintered wood and metal covered the foundation like confetti; three large smoke stacks, the only things left intact, rose from the middle. Crumpled husks of cars lay under rubble, and skeletons occupied some of them. Sasha tried not to think about which unpleasant death they may have suffered—explosion, or growing weak from blood loss as the virus ravaged their bodies. He forced the thoughts away.

  Focus on what’s ahead of me. I can’t change what Dr. Krupin did… or what I did.

  Their destination was a lofty building at the end of the street. The cobbled stone exterior had fared better than the many dashed windows running along the sides. A spiraling bronze sculpture lay broken in the front courtyard. Had Sasha not seen similar joyless, clinical installations of modern art in Russia, he would have mistaken it for debris from the explosion.

  Lucky’s group had guns drawn, and Sasha sorely wished he’d modified his drone to hold more ammunition, even though there was no immediate danger. He left the shopping cart near the broken sculpture and hefted his pack.

  Dusty smiled as she pulled fashion magazines, candles, and a rubix cube from her pack and left them in the cart. “Gotta make room for all those parts you’re gonna get me.”

  “That’s right, baby.”

  They followed Lucky and Dewbell to the building’s entrance. Gentlewave and Cal strode inside, training their guns on darkened corners. Sasha’s shoes crunched on bits of twinkling glass on the ancient blue carpet. He headed through the lobby, following the group past broken coffee tables and couches to a stairway leading up. On the second floor sat a large room with hallways branching off. Cal peeked through an open door in a hall and beckoned to them.

  Cubicles lined the room. PCs and desks laden with layers of dust sat in each area, overturned desk chairs lying in the aisles. Sasha pulled his multitool from his waistband and flipped out a screwdriver. Sitting in a creaky chair, he picked up a computer tower and unscrewed the side panel, dropping it onto the floor.

  Lucky stood over him, hands on his hips. “That’s the part that’s worth money? When I was here before, I grabbed these things.” He pointed to a flat screen monitor.

  “That part is not computer.” Sasha unplugged the outer fan from the motherboard and threw it on the ground. “You want stuff from in here. Modern computers look a lot different than ancient America computers, but I still know where to look. I will show you which pieces and you can get them out. You have screwdrivers?”

  “Yeah.” Lucky squinted into the case as Sasha removed the CPU fan and pulled out the power supply.

  He held up the bundle of wires. “You need copper stuff?”

  “Can’t hurt.” Lucky looked at his party. “You guys paying attention? I’m not going to pull all these things out myself.”

  Sasha set the power supply on the desk and removed more components until taking out the motherboard. “See this? This is brain of computer. Motherboard. This is what you want. Don’t even need to worry about specific parts. Things on here got lot of metals. You find green board with black chips? Take it.”

  Lucky grinned and slapped Sasha on the back. He nodded to the others and they headed for the computer towers. Dusty took the motherboard from Sasha, tilting it in the dim light streaming from the hall.

  “This thing is worth money, huh?”

  “Well, if metals are worth money, then yes.” He pointed to the CPU in the center of the board. “See that? Got gold inside.” He handed Dusty his screwdriver and smiled.

  “This is great.” She grinned and dug into her pocket, pulling out her paper with the strange part diagram. “You think we can find this thing here too? Diamond-jointed pin regulator?”

  Sasha frowned at the blueprint. “I don’t know. It is not computer part. Still don’t know what that thing is.”

  Dusty sighed, staring at the drawing. “Never going to find this thing. But hey, maybe these computer parts will be worth more, anyway.” She leaned toward him. “Let’s go find a different room to scav.”

  Sasha followed Dusty to a new room, also filled with cubicles and computers. He sat on the floor next to her, showing her how to remove the panel and outer fan. Dusty pulled on the fan, but one of the screws held firm. She scowled, jerking on it.

  “Here, let me help.” Sasha leaned in close, his eyes turning from the computer to the arch of Dusty’s neck, her jawline, her lips. He reached an arm around and put his hand over hers, taking the screwdriver. He took out the last screw and pulled out the fan, then offered her the tool again. She wrapped her hand around it, but looked into Sasha’s eyes and leaned in for a kiss. He pressed his mouth against hers and she pushed him toward the floor. He chuckled. “We better get all these parts out before those other guys get them. Got time to do more of this later, baby.”

  Dusty sat back, smiling. “I really like you.” She leaned in again and brushed at his hair, clumps of dust drifting back to the floor.

  “I really like you too.” She did look very cute with earrings and her new style of eyeblack. He made a mental note to find her some sort of gift when he got the chance. Although he was unsure if American courting staples were the same as Russian ones, there had to be some flowers or jewelry along the way somewhere that she would like.

  “I’m going to see if Lucky has a spare screwdriver so I can help.” Dusty stood and left the room.

  Sasha smiled to himself as he took apart tower shells and pulled out motherboards. He worked quickly, trying to get as many sellable parts as possible. He stuffed them into Dusty’s pack, then leaned into the hallway, frowning. Maybe Lucky was having trouble locating another screwdriver.

  Sasha stood and entered the first room in the hall, but Lucky’s party was no longer there, computer casings and fans strewn about on the floor. He turned, stepping on screws and wires and listening for voices. A low whine of wind whistled through a crack.

  “Dusty?”

  After hefting his and Dusty’s bags, he walked past other rooms, sticking his head in, but they only contained long conference tables and sagging window blinds. Sasha walked back into the large mezzanine, then into a second corridor, certain he would spot her.

  The computers in the next room sat untouched. He vacillated in the doorway. Should I take apart these computers, or figure out what happened to Dusty first? They probably went downstairs to check out the rest of the building.

  He entered the room and pulled apart the towers, filling Dusty’s pack with motherboards and power supply wires. When her bag was full, he put the extras in his own bag and left.

  He paused in the hall again, then descended the steps to the lobby. Cal lounged on a holey couch, arms resting on the back and cowboy boot propped on one knee. Sasha looked at him in disgust. “Where is everyone?”

  “Oh, they found some lab further on past the lobby.”

  “You are not helping?”

  Cal shrugged. “I’m not that great with electronic stuff.”

  Sasha shook his head. Idiot. How hard is it to unscrew computer panels? He left Cal and headed quickly through the building, passing a break room and bathrooms and tripping on ragged snarls of snagged carpeting. Murmurs drifted from a room ahead. Lucky, Dewbell, and Gentlewave rummaged through a lab filled with long tables and cobweb-draped scientific equipment. Several computers sat at a back counter, but most of the items were microscopes, Bunsen burners, glass beakers, and shelves laden with books.

  Lucky picked up a microscope. “Sasha, you think this is worth anything?”

  “Uh, I don’t know. Don’t think it’s going to have electronic parts. You seen Dusty?”

  “I thought she was with you.” Lucky put the microscope back.

  He frowned, pulse quickening. “No. Said she was going to get screwdriver from you so she could help.”

  �
��I haven’t seen her.”

  Dewbell signed, eyebrows knit together, and Lucky shook his head. “No, Cal is in the lobby being lazy like usual.”

  Sasha left the room, peeking into doorways. After every empty room, his chest tightened a little more.

  “Dusty!”

  He jogged back upstairs, but she wasn’t there. Back in the lobby, he sat on a step for a moment, holding his dizzy head. A flight of stairs headed down into the darkness, and Sasha stood, supporting himself with the railing. His shoes thudded down the chipped linoleum stairs and he entered a dim basement with several more labs. The glow from a candle tumbled out of a doorway, turning the concrete walls a soft orange.

  Muffled sobs from somewhere nearby caused a hitch in his throat. He ran into the room. Water-stained ceiling tiles drooped inside, and boxes of laboratory safety equipment—goggles, gloves, and jackets—lay scattered across the tile. Dusty sat on a back counter among books and microscopes, knees drawn to her chest. Her eyeblack ran like dirty rivers down her cheeks.

  Sasha sighed in relief, and hurried to her side, putting a hand on her back. “Dusty? What’s wrong?” He touched a rip in the collar of her shirt, his chest tightening. “What happened to you?”

  She shifted away, tugging up the collar of the shirt. Avoiding his gaze, she lifted a metal component from the counter. “Is this the part I’m looking for?”

  Sasha took the iridescent metal cylinder and turned it over in his hands. Rods ran along the sides and one end tapered into a threaded hole. “It looks kind of same. Can I see your paper again? And why you crying? What happened? Are you hurt?” He thought of Cal’s smug face as he reclined on the couch and clenched his fists.

  “It was that bastard cowboy, huh? He do something to you?” His arms shook as he turned away and pulled in a ragged breath. Cal was bigger than him, but maybe there was something in this room he could hit him with—

  Dusty caught his wrist. “Don’t, Sasha. He didn’t force me to—I, um…” She let out a sob. “He saw my paper and said he knew where the part was. He showed it to me and I thought it was the right one, so…”