Deprecated

by Michael Karr

With a twinge of guilt, she stood, shouldering her empty rifle, then exited Serghei’s room. Out in the hallway that connected the inner warehouse room to the outer door, she patted her jacket pockets, confirming she still had the cans of Mountain Dew. Now she could get her ammunition back.

  Now with the prospect of having the means to kill Grayson, the thought of actually doing it made her uneasy. She’d seen him eat. Seen him sleep. Seen him laugh. If she hadn’t known he was an Elect, he would have been just another person to her. But he wasn’t. Of that she knew without the slightest doubt. Still, the thought of killing him…killing this Elect…

  Desolation! If only Grayson acted differently. No, he had to treat her grandfather with respect. Talk to him like a friend. The snake. He was probably doing it just to lure them into disillusionment of safety.

  Midway to the door, Rylee froze. Had something just moved in the shadows ahead? To keep snoopers away, Serghei hadn’t wired any lights outside his room. Now she wished there was at least one. Gradually, her eyes adjusted to the darkness. Yet she saw nothing more.

  Serghei’s cameras would have picked up an intruder. And he always kept the outside door bolted shut.

  Steeling herself, Rylee walked forward. There was nothing there. Reaching the door, she grabbed its handle. Something pressed against her from behind, as a cold hand clapped over her mouth.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Rylee’s immediate reaction was to scream and bite down on her assailant’s hand. Instead, she relaxed her body, even as a hand grasped her left arm and hot breath slithered across her neck. A surprise attacker almost always had the advantage. The best way to turn the table on such an attacker was to surprise them back—by not fighting back.

  It worked. Within a moment, the grip on her mouth and arm both slackened. Now it was time to strike. Before she made her move, a voice in her ear stopped her. “It’s me, Grayson. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  Grayson? What was he doing here? Well, it didn’t matter why. This was a perfect opportunity to rid herself of him.

  “I’m going to let go of your mouth,” Grayson whispered in her ear.

  Go right ahead. Then she could call for Preston.

  She felt Grayson’s hand tentatively slip away from her mouth. Then he released her arm.

  Whirling around, she faced him. In the darkness could just make out his features. His expression was calm. Trusting. Why did he think he could trust her?

  Now! Call out. It could all be over then and there. All she had to do was call for Preston. His gun hadn’t been confiscated or its rounds unloaded. Just call out.

  “What are you doing here?” she found herself asking. “How did you get in here?”

  With his hand, he motioned for her to go outside to talk. The last thing she wanted was to have a secret conversation with an Elect. Why couldn’t she summon the courage to call for Preston? Was it because she needed to keep Grayson hidden from Preston and the others? What if they somehow discovered that Grayson had been staying with her for days? Or was there something else? No, of course there wasn’t.

  With a sudden urge to slam the stock of her rifle into Grayson’s nose, she pushed open the door and strode outside. The frozen night air didn’t dampen her rising anger as she walked through the back alley. White plumes of chilled breath rose above her as she huffed forward. Behind her she could hear Grayson following. Good.

  She intended to give Grayson an earful, if not a broken nose. Not here, though. If Serghei reviewed his camera footage from tonight, he would see a figure following her. She didn’t want to be caught talking to that figure. Consorting with the enemy.

  Not until she had stepped around a corner which she knew wasn’t monitored by Serghei’s cameras did Rylee stop and face Grayson.

  “What do you think you’re doing!” she demanded.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” he replied. “You’re not actually going to go through with that insane plan? Break into Regulation headquarters?”

  “What! You were spying on us?”

  “Like any lousy—what do you call me—Elect would do.”

  “Just leave me alone.” Shoving him hard in the chest, she turned and continued down the benighted street.

  “I can help you, Rylee,” he called from behind.

  “I don’t want your help,” she muttered to herself, lengthening her stride.

  From behind, she heard Grayson following her. So persistently annoying. Why was he doing this? And how had he followed her without her noticing? The thought of him stalking her stoked her anger.

  She contemplated taking her rifle and swinging it at Grayson’s head. If she swung hard enough maybe…no. His reflexes were much too fast for that. Curse it! She started to run, just to put distance between her and that creep behind her. Not until she reached her housing unit did she stop. She entered through the front door, and found it empty. Great. More time alone with her new stalker. For a moment, she considered locking the apartment door behind her. That idea made her smile.

  She thought of her grandfather’s reaction. Maybe she could claim Grayson tried to hurt her, or touch her. More lies. Of course, it was doubtful that her grandfather would believe such as story when he saw that Grayson’s arms were still intact. Grayson had stalked her. That was something.

  With a shrill groan, she turned on her heel, strode into her room, and slammed the door shut. She wanted to scream. She wanted to shoot Grayson.

  Unslinging her rifle, she leaned it in its usual place by her desk, then collapsed onto her cot. A hard object jabbed her in the side as she did. Reaching for the spot, she felt a cylindrical object through the fabric of her jacket. The Mountain Dew. In the heat of her frustration, she’d forgotten about the drinks in her pockets.

  Now she only wanted to pour the cans’ contents onto the floor in front of Grayson and watch him try to lick it up like a starving mutt. Or peg him squarely on the forehead with one of the cans.

  From the other room, she heard the sound of the apartment door open and close, then footsteps sounded on the floor. Was it too much to hope that the footsteps belonged to her grandfather? That Grayson had managed to get himself lost on the way back? Or that he tripped over his own arrogance and bashed his brains against the asphalt?

  Apparently, it was. Those footsteps didn’t belong to her grandfather. No, those footsteps belonged to a pesky Elect.

  An Elect who had her ammo.

  She sighed. She’d gone through the trouble of lying to her friends to get the stupid Mountain Dews. Might as well go through with her plans.

  Exiting the room, she found him standing in the kitchen. He didn’t greet her with his typical smug smile. Instead, it looked almost…lost?

  “Here,” she said, tossing the can at him. “That’s the best I could do. Now where’s my ammo?”

  She’d hold onto the other can for now, in case she needed to bargain again.

  Studying the bright green can, Grayson turned it around in his hands. His face brightened with sickening satisfaction as he read the back label. Then he cracked it open and took a long swig. Almost immediately, he began coughing uncontrollably. When he finally stopped, he shook his head and screwed up his face.

  Despite herself, Rylee smiled. At least someone else shared her dislike for the drink.

  “Wow,” he said, smacking his lips, “that’s really something. It’s perfect, though.”

  Then he took another long gulp, which threw him into another fit of coughs.

  Rylee waited impatiently for him to finish the entire contents of the can. When he was done, he looked at her and smiled. “I needed that. Thank you.”

  Part of her was curious why he needed sugar so badly. Was this a quirk of Elects Serghei had failed to mention? She refused to gratify her curiosity. Instead, she folded her arms and raised her eyebrows expectantly.

  “Ah, right,” he said, clearly reading her body language. He turned, opened the cabinets above the kitchen sink, and pulled out two boxes of ammunition.


  “What!” Rylee exclaimed. “They’ve been in there the whole time?”

  “The whole time.” He smiled and held out the boxes to her.

  Snatching them from his thieving fingers, Rylee turned to go back to her room.

  “I meant what I said earlier,” he said from behind, his tone serious again. She paused but didn’t face him. “I can help you.”

  “I do not want—nor will I ever want—your help.” She walked into her room, closed the door, and attempted to go to sleep.

  She awoke with a start the next morning. For a moment, the grogginess kept her from registering the buzzing noise coming from somewhere within her room. It took her only a few seconds to realize it was her earpiece.

  Scrambling out of her bed, she jammed it into her ear and tapped it. “Serg?” she said, her voice gravelly.

  “Good morning Vietnam,” Serghei’s voice hissed in her ear. “We’ve got a problem.”

  “A problem?” Rylee rubbed her eyes and yawned. If there were Elects to deal with, that was a problem she would welcome.

  “It’s the Regulators,” he said. “They’ve apparently decided to do the Deprecations ahead of schedule.”

  “What? How much ahead?” Rylee felt her heart burst into a rapid pounding in her chest.

  “Today—now. They’re already in the streets.”

  TWENTY-TWO

  Rylee didn’t hear anything that Serghei said after that. The Deprecation…today? That couldn’t be. It was four days early. And her grandfather…

  Hands shaking, she grabbed a box of ammunition and began loading rounds into her rifle’s magazine. Five rounds. She needed a high capacity magazine. Or her Glock. That would give her another sixteen rounds. Slamming the magazine into the receiver, she charged out of her room, rifle gripped in both hands.

  The lights in the kitchen were off. In the shadows, a startled Grayson bolted up from his bed on the cold linoleum floor. “Seriously?” he said, when he saw her. “We’re going to play that game again?”

  Rylee ignored him.

  In her ear, Serghei was trying to tell her something. Yanking the earpiece from her ear, she tossed it across the floor. Then she pounded on her grandfather’s door.

  “Grandpa!” she shouted. “You’ve got to get up.”

  Before she could pound on the hollow door again, it opened with a jerk. Her grandfather stood just on the other side of the threshold, his gray hair disheveled and his Bible in one hand. Sallow lantern light spilled out from behind him, casting his concerned face in shadows.

  “I am up—” he said, cutting his words short as eyes fixed on the rifle in her hands. “What in the devil are you doing, Rylee?” His voice was commanding, distrustful. Just has it had been the morning she tried to put a bullet through Grayson skull.

  “The Regulators,” she huffed, as though she’d been sprinting for the last hour. “They’re in the streets.”

  Her grandfather shook his head. “What are you babbling about? The Regulators are always in the streets.”

  “No,” she said, her voice edged with pleading. “They’re making the next Deprecation run. Don’t you understand? They’re coming for you.”

  He lifted his lower lip in response, but otherwise looked completely unfazed. Didn’t he understand? They were coming now.

  “We have to do something,” she pleaded. “You have to hide. I’ll fend off a full squadron of Regulators if I have to.”

  The kitchen light came on. Power restored to the slums. It illuminated her grandfather’s face. That hard, stern face. The face of the man who had taken care of her since she was a baby. The man who had taught her how to survive in this harsh world. Her only living family. Her only link to her dead parents. To a world she couldn’t remember, but longed for every day. She couldn’t lose him.

  “It’s alright, Rylee,” he said, softly. “We knew this was going to happen one day. You’ll get along fine without me.”

  “No,” she said, her voice trembling. “I need you.”

  He placed a firm hand on her shoulder. A hand she knew to be strong and unwavering. Just like the man to whom it belonged.

  “I won’t let them take you without a fight,” Rylee said.

  “You have to.”

  “Why? You’ve always taught me to fight. Why not now?”

  “Because it won’t do any good, Rylee. We may kill a few Regulators, but more will come. Then we’ll both end up dead. I’m not about to let you throw away your life just to save me.”

  “What life?” Rylee said, extending her arm toward the door. “One where I have to live in fear of being Deprecated just for getting sick or injured, or just being too old? One where Elects prowl the streets at night like wolves, preying on innocent girls? Where I may never be able to have kids? Where I have to wonder if I’ll have enough food to eat each day? What kind of life is that?”

  “You, Rylee Loraine Day, make of your life what you will. Your circumstances don’t define who you are or who you’ll become. Unless you let them. Which you won’t. You’re stronger than that.”

  For several moments, neither spoke. Her grandfather’s eyes gazed into her. There was a firmness in them, of course. Behind that, though, she saw sadness. This wasn’t easy for him. Why should it be?

  “Loraine,” he said at last. “That was your grandmother’s name.”

  “It was?” Rylee genuinely didn’t know. Her grandfather never spoke much about her.

  “I should have told you a long time ago. A prouder grandmother there never was. Many times after her death, I’ve thought how unfair it was that she died and not me. She missed watching you grow up. It was hard for me too, Rylee. I didn’t know if I could get by without her. But I did.”

  Not knowing how, Rylee found herself in her grandfather’s embrace, and she was hugging him back fiercely. She didn’t remember the last time her grandfather had given her a hug. That just wasn’t his way. It just made this one all the more meaningful.

  The stomp of heavy boots came from the stairwell. Gently, her grandfather forced her to let go of him. With an incline of his head, he motioned to her room. “Go put it away,” he said. Reluctantly, she obeyed, returning her rifle to her room. When she returned, she just stood there, waiting, scratching the back of her hand. Her eyes momentarily flicked up, catching Grayson staring at her. He looked uncomfortable. Why did he have to be there? Of all people to share her final moments with her grandfather, did he have to be an Elect?

  Outside, the boots grew louder. Then the door shook as someone pounded on it. Rylee turned to her grandfather, her heart racing. He nodded to her, then went to answer it.

  How could this be happening? Every part of her longed to fight—needed to fight. To do something to save her grandfather. Was she truly going to stand there watching while they took him away?

  Calmly, her grandfather unbolted the door and opened it. Two armed Regulators pushed their way inside, the muzzles of their assault rifles pointed threateningly. They would use force, if necessary, to perform their duty.

  “It’s okay, boys,” her grandfather said. “No one here’s going to fight you.”

  He cast Rylee a stern glance.

  Convinced the place was secure, one of the Regulators pointed the muzzle of his rifle at her grandfather. “Check his code,” he said.

  The other Regulator let his rifle hang by its shoulder strap as he grabbed her grandfather’s arm and pulled back the sleeve of his sweater, exposing the tattoo of black lines, underscored by a thirteen-digit number. Silently, the Regulator stared at the tattoo, as if studying it. Rylee knew the man was scanning it with his PNU-enhanced brain. The data retrieved from the barcode would reveal who her grandfather was, and that he was scheduled for Deprecation. Rylee bit her upper lip. This was what Serghei’s plan was going to fix. So that when they scanned his code, it would come up negative. Why did they have to do the Deprecation early?

  After what seemed like much too long, the Regulator let go of her grandfather’s forearm. “He’s cl
ean.”

  “What do you mean?” The first Regulator demanded.

  The other shrugged. “I scanned him. He’s not up for Deprecation.”

  Despite her utter shock, Rylee managed not to gape in disbelief. Had Serghei managed to do something after all? Is that what he had tried to tell her? No, Serghei had acted just as surprised as she was.

  The Regulator, who appeared in charge, shoved his comrade aside and took hold of her grandfather’s arm, and inspected the tattoo. Not once did her grandfather show surprise or anger. He remained stoic, letting the Regulators do as they wanted, never speaking. After several moments, the Regulator cast her grandfather’s arm away, a disgusted look distorting his face.

  Then he looked slowly from Rylee to her grandfather. He grunted. “Anyone else here?”

  “No,” her grandfather replied.

  Looking displeased, the Regulator made a curt gesture to the other and the two filed out. In the wake of the Regulator’s retreat, her grandfather slowly closed and bolted the door. Then he turned, and his eyes narrowed. “What in the blazes just happened there?”

  Rylee gasped for air, as though her head had been under water the entire time the Regulators were there.

  “Perhaps a system malfunction,” Grayson said. “They happen on occasion.”

  Rubbing his gray beard, her grandfather seemed to be considering that possibility, before finally shaking his head. “Well, I’m not about to go argue with them. Let’s eat breakfast. We’re going to be late for work.”

  And that was it. He accepted whatever happened and didn’t appear to question it further. Rylee wasn’t satisfied. What happened just now was no glitch in the Alliance’s system. As little as she knew about PNUs or computers or any technology, she knew enough to know that scanning a person’s barcode and retrieving their personal data was the simplest of tasks. It wouldn’t have failed…twice. No, unless someone had deliberately or accidentally modified her grandfather’s data, something else had happened. Those Regulators came directly to their apartment for a reason. From the sound of their boots leaving the building, theirs had been the only apartment to check.