Chromeheart

by Alia Hess

  Sasha’s stomach flipped and vomit rose in the back of his throat. “You trade with that guy again? Dusty! We had deal! I thought you wanted to be with me!”

  “I do!” Fresh tears ran down Dusty’s face. “But I’ve been looking for that part forever and I thought he had it. He wasn’t going to give it up unless I traded!”

  Sasha clenched his jaw, breathing hard. “I got all this good stuff for you. I—I gave you all my money so you wouldn’t trade with guys. I was trying to be gentleman for you! And it’s not good enough? You got to go sleep with that stupid cowboy again?”

  Dusty shrank into the corner, looking at the wall. “I’m sorry.”

  “Even if it was right part, who cares? You going to break my heart for it? That part is better than me? Well, I’m not going to stay and be gentleman for prostitute!”

  Sasha whirled and stormed out of the lab, dropping Dusty’s bag on the floor, motherboards spilling out. He stomped up the stairs. Lucky’s group stood in the lobby, talking.

  “Did you find her?” Lucky poked a cigarette into his mouth.

  Sasha scowled at Cal, still sitting on the couch with that dumb, contented expression. “You want her, cowboy? You can have her. Maybe trade her piece of gum or button next time. I bet she takes it.”

  He kicked through the lobby door, shifting his pack, then looked at the shopping cart. “Irina! Follow me!”

  The cart jangled as the camouflaged drone rose from the basket. Sasha wiped his wet cheeks, rage burning in his chest.

  I finally try to be a good guy to a woman and this is the thanks I get. This is worse than with Irina because I thought Dusty actually liked me. But Cal was right. Why would she want to be with a scrawny loser like me? Not when she can sleep with cowboys and get shit in return. And using me to get stuff—got all my money and all those parts, my tee shirts… Throwing away my affection for some part, when she doesn’t even know exactly what it is or what it’s worth… Worth more than me, obviously.

  He pulled out his tablet and scrolled through map images, looking for the best route to Hammerlink. He would find Owl’s brother and reunite her with him via drone like he promised. Then maybe he would go back to the Northwest. Maybe go to Burr. There were too many scary animals and unsavory people in the East—prostitutes and violent cowboys, swindlers and Bosses. It wasn’t the place for him.

  Sasha stumbled, feeling weak. He tried to quell the heartache within him, but his pulse only beat faster. His foot caught on a metal pylon in the road and he tripped, cutting his arm on a rock and sending the contents of his bag skittering across the asphalt. Rolling onto his back, arm stinging, he stared up at the gray sky, face twisted with hurt.

  Eventually, Dewbell peered down at him, mouth pursed.

  “Go away, please. I am just going to lay here and feel sorry for myself.”

  Dewbell sat on the ground and picked up his arm, inspecting his cut. She shook her head, then made a writing gesture.

  “I don’t want to talk.”

  She frowned, then picked up Sasha’s tablet from the road.

  “I do not care.”

 

  “So do I.”

 

  “Obviously I’m not, or she would not have did that. She going to trade herself for anything. And I bet Cal can keep finding things to give her.”

 

  “That is not—” He paused. How many times had he thought he was done apologizing to everyone on his list, only to screw up and have to write a new name down? How many times had he declared he wouldn’t drink again, only to screw it up the next day? How many times had he promised his apology to Irina would be the last?

  He couldn’t even imagine the things that Dusty had to go through in her life. Why was he being so selfish? She obviously needed help, and here he was, just thinking about himself.

  “Where is Dusty?”

 

  “What about Cal?”

  Dewbell smiled.

  Sasha sat up. “Really? Who knew that Islander cared so much?”

  Dewbell pointed to her chest and nodded. She handed him the tablet and collected some of his spilled items from the road. Sasha helped her pick them up, then followed her down the street to where Lucky, Gentlewave, and Dusty waited with the shopping cart.

  Dusty regarded him sullenly, tugging at the bottom of her black tee shirt. A large, red welt had developed beneath the rip in her shirt collar. Sasha rubbed his face and sat on a curb. Dewbell made a shooing gesture at Lucky and Gentlewave, and they walked away.

  Dusty sat next to Sasha, clutching her hands in her lap. All her eyeblack was gone, her face clean but still red from crying. She looked younger, and more feminine and fragile than ever before, and Sasha’s heart ached for her exposed vulnerability.

  “He hurt you again?” Sasha gestured to Dusty’s collar.

  She nodded and he balled his fists, arms trembling.

  “You hurt yourself?” she asked.

  Sasha touched the congealing blood on his arm. “Yeah, I tripped.”

  “I’m sorry for trading.”

  “I’m sorry too.”

  “Why are you sorry?”

  He looked at his feet. “Because I called you… prostitute. I’m really sorry.”

  “But that’s what I am.” She sighed. “But you were right. There’s no reason for me to be doing that stuff when we have all these other things to trade. And it’s not worth it. Especially not with guys like—” She squeezed her eyes shut.

  “Guys like that rotten cowboy?”

  She wiped her face with the hem of her shirt. “Yeah. And I was thinking, maybe after I buy the freedom of some kids in Hammerlink, that will be the last time I rescue any. I have to try to save myself too. Will you help me?”

  “Help you change? I want to, but don’t know how. I tried already. What you need me to do?”

  Her lip quivered. “Just… don’t go? Stay with me and tell me I’m worth more than twenty tins?”

  Sasha slipped his hand into Dusty’s. “You are worth more than that. I will tell you every day if you want. And I don’t understand some things you do, but I’m not going to go. I’m sorry I got mad. You are nice girl, and I don’t like to see bad stuff happen to you. You okay?”

  She wiped her eyes and looked away. “Been worse.”

  He frowned and turned to her, sliding his arms around her small form and gently pressing his forehead to her welted neck. “You need me to kiss you better?”

  “Are you really making jokes right now?”

  “Not joking. Serious.”

  She stared at the pavement, then nodded. He kissed her neck, then tugged on her sleeve, exposing her shoulder. He pressed his lips to her bite mark, then drew the shirt back up and hugged her again, not wanting to let go and not daring to ask what else might be hiding under her shirt.

  He pulled back. “How come you didn’t look this upset last time you trade with that guy? He do something worse this time?”

  “Same stuff.” She sniffled. “I just hid it from you last time. I’m good at pretending when it’s needed. Plus, this time I felt even worse because I realized what an awful thing that was to do to you. It didn’t have anything to do with the part being wrong.” She pulled the diagram paper from her pocket and tore it into pieces. The breeze kicked the bits into the air and carried them away.

  “Don’t want this to happen to you again. We still got deal? New one? Starting today?”

  Dusty nodded. “And let’s not put a time limit on it this time.”

  Sasha gave her a small smile. “Good. And me and you, we can wait long as you want. I would not want to ever make you feel like that damn cowboy make you feel.”

  “You couldn’t make me feel that way.”
>
  “Well, still…You ready to go? Or you want to sit here little longer?”

  “Let’s go.”

  He stood and held out his hand. Dusty took it and he pulled her up, then slipped an arm around her back. A handful of paper shreds still lay on the ground. Sasha stepped on them as they headed down the road.

  9 ~ Orphans ~

  “So there I was, face to face with this gigantic beast.” Lucky’s brown eyes grew huge in the firelight. “It was a nasty thing. Body like a bear, but with a strange, scrunched-up face and buggy eyes. Spines stuck up out of its back. I wasn’t sure what to be more afraid of—the spines, its claws, or its fangs. All I knew was I never should have entered that cave.”

  A crowd of children sat around the fire in the shell of a burnt-out church, rapt with attention. The place barely qualified as a building anymore, and smoke from the campfire curled up into the open night sky. The kids sat in broken pews or on the dirty ground, wearing oversized, holey clothes, and many of them looked like they had never seen a bath or a comb. Sasha sat on the sidelines along with Dusty, Gentlewave, and several other adults.

  “Then what happened?” a small boy asked. His rat’s nest of blond hair fell to his shoulders, and he was chewing on the sleeve of his much too large sweatshirt.

  Lucky stroked his beard and looked at the boy. “I shot at it! Filled the monster full of bullets! But it kept coming. Acted like it didn’t even feel it. So I leaped at it with a hunting knife and stabbed out its eyes! But in revenge, it swiped at me with its huge claws and sliced my arm clean off!” Lucky raised his metal arm and flexed the robotic hand dramatically in the firelight.

  Children murmured in awe. Sasha leaned in toward Gentlewave. “How much of that story is true?”

  “None of it.” Gentlewave turned to him, his face barely visible under his hood. “Lucky lost his arm in a factory accident.”

  Sasha chuckled and slipped an arm around Dusty. She was wearing her makeup and earrings again today, and had sewn the rip in her shirt collar. His heart hurt when he looked at the deep pinky-purple welt on her neck, especially since it was likely not the only one.

  “So how many of these kids you buy?”

  Dusty squinted and shrugged. “Most of them.”

  Sasha’s mouth fell open. “Most?” There had to be forty children in the crowd.

  Maybe this girl is an angel.

  “What?” Dusty frowned. “What’s that look for?”

  “You are amazing. Helping that many kids. You really care, huh?”

  Her frown deepened. “Yes. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t do so many trades. Have done so many trades.”

  How much did these kids cost collectively? And how long did it take Dusty to earn the money? If twenty tins is the normal amount she charges, she must have done a lot of trades, and endured a lot of awful things. Twenty tins is nothing. That would get you a beer and a sandwich in Russia. Back home, a prostitute wouldn’t even look at me for that amount, let alone touch me.

  He squeezed her tighter. “I bet these kids really like you, huh? You like their mom?”

  Dusty snorted. “No way. I bought their freedom, but I don’t take care of them. Some of them don’t even remember me. I’m not that great with kids, really. Just don’t want them to turn out like me.”

  “I’m not good with kids, either. Don’t know what to say to them. But Dewbell looks like she is having good time.”

  Dewbell had a child on each knee, and several others at her feet. Her contented smile shifted to a frown as she tried to untangle a snarl in one boy’s long hair. The kids stared at Lucky as he launched into a new story about the scar on his cheek.

  “Which one of those guys is your friend who helps this kids?”

  “Well, they all help them, but my friend is John. The one with the eyepatch. Kind of cool that he happened to be here today. He goes back and forth between here and Hammerlink. I always let him know when I’m going to buy more kids so we can coordinate and bring them here.”

  Sasha leaned forward, looking past Dusty to a dark-skinned man wearing a metal patch over one eye. Black dreadlocks hung about his shoulders. “So after he takes them here, then what?”

  Dusty shrugged. “That’s it. They’re free.”

  “But who takes care of them? Just these couple people here? And your friend?”

  “No. They take care of themselves. Just like I did. Only I didn’t have a cute little town full of other kids to live in, and adults who would come and check on me. I lived with a gang of older teens in the ruins of Starburn.”

  Sasha scanned the heads of the children, ranging in age from around five to sixteen. Were they really better off? From what he gathered, the slave-orphans in Hammerlink at least had decent meals and hygiene lessons, and people who pretended to be their parents. But he hadn’t asked Dusty about the things she went through as a “daughter” of a Boss, and wasn’t about to.

  “What do they get to eat?”

  “There’s a big garden and the kids know how to take care of it. Some chickens too that John brought them. Pretty sure they loot from houses closer to Hammerlink and raid caravans as well.”

  These kids are a gang too. A big one.

  “All these kids come from Hammerlink?”

  Dusty nodded.

  “How come this town is so far away, then?”

  “Because if I just bought kids and set them free on the streets of Hammerlink, they’d get caught again.”

  Dogcatcher. Maybe that’s how the people of Hammerlink thought about orphans—as animals. Pets. “What happens when kids grow up? They still slaves?”

  Dusty ran her fingers along the back of Sasha’s hand and over his knuckles, and he shut his eyes, smiling. “Sometimes. Once a son or daughter turns fifteen, their Boss has to let them go or start paying them a wage. The kid doesn’t get to choose. And the wages are crap. Some Bosses want adult slaves for experienced work and stuff, but a lot of them just let them go at fifteen and buy a new, younger one so they don’t have to pay them a wage. There are factories in Hammerlink completely run by orphans. And nobody cares if there’s an accident, or a fire, and a bunch of the kids get killed. They’re no better than a part in a machine. A piece of property. And they come cheap.”

  These kids were better off. Sasha drew his mouth tight and pressed his face against Dusty’s head. “You are not part. Not these kids too.”

  Dusty smiled and turned her head, giving him a quick peck on the mouth. He had reminded her for the past three days that she was worth more than twenty tins and deserving of respect. Sasha still took every opportunity for innuendo, but tried to be as good to her as he possibly could, and she returned the favor. He had never been relationship material—never even fallen hard for anyone until Irina. But despite only knowing Dusty for a little over a week, she motivated him to be his best self. Although he had tried hard for Irina too, it was for all the wrong reasons. Sasha wanted to be better for Irina so she would like him, would stop chastising him and giving him that disappointed look she always wore.

  Dusty accepted him for who he was, flaws and all. She gave him respect too. Was that the key to getting along with people? Respect? If so, it was no wonder he’d had problems with women in the past. But he certainly wasn’t anything like Cal—that wasn’t just a lack of respect. It was sadism.

  He tugged at Dusty’s sewn rip in the collar of her shirt, then gave her a squeeze. She leaned into him.

  “How many days to Hammerlink from this place? What’s it called again?” Sasha asked.

  “Fortland. It’ll take two more days. Kind of sucks that we’ll still be traveling on my birthday.”

  He’d forgotten about that. “What day is your birthday?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow? Why didn’t you tell me that before? I got to find gift for you.” He ran a hand through his hair.

  “You don’t need to get me anything.”

  Lucky was wrapping up his tall tale. “Don’t go to The South, kids.” He po
inted at his scar. “Got it?”

  The children looked at each other, amused. Several of them turned to their neighbors, showing off their own blemishes. One had a thick, snaking scar across the side of his head, bigger than Lucky’s, and seemed quite proud. The crowd began to disperse, children leaving the church to disappear into decaying buildings and cobbled-together forts.

  Two girls, around ten, approached Dusty. Their dark hair was done in messy braids held together with twist-ties and bailing twine.

  “Hey, Dusty, are your friends here to adopt somebody?”

  Dusty sat up. “No, not this time. We’re just traveling together to Hammerlink. They aren’t looking to be parents. Sorry, Ali.”

  “My name is Cupcake now.” She jabbed a thumb at her chest. “Gave myself a new name.”

  “Oh, that’s cool.”

  The other girl turned to Cupcake and whispered something. Cupcake laughed. “Rose says you look like you got adopted. By this guy.” She looked at Sasha, grinning.

  Sasha opened his mouth, then bit his tongue, reminding himself that these were little kids.

  Dusty chuckled. “Very funny.”

  “What’s your name?” Rose looked at him.

  “Sasha.”

  Cupcake screwed up her dirty face. “Sasha? What kind of a name is that? That sounds like a girl’s name.”

  “And cupcake is kind of food.”

  “You talk funny.”

  And you wonder why no one has adopted you yet…

  Sasha turned to Dusty. “I’ll be right back.” He stood from the pew and navigated around children to where Dewbell sat. She smiled at him as the kids on her lap hopped off and headed for the church’s entrance. He pulled out his tablet and wrote her a message:

  Dewbell’s mouth parted in surprise. She tapped her forehead and winked, then held out her hand for the tablet.

  “Thank you. You know, you always so nice to help me out, and I know I can count on you.” He frowned, thinking. “But I don’t want to make you jealous. Should I ask someone else for help instead?”