Deprecated

by Michael Karr

  “I’m sorry,” Grayson said quietly. “I don’t know what else to say.”

  “There’s nothing you can say, or do,” she replied, shaking her head. “There are hundreds of other lives that have been destroyed by Elects.”

  Standing, Rylee exhaled sharply. “I’ve got to go talk to him.”

  “Okay,” Grayson replied. “I’ll just stay here, then. If you don’t—”

  A buzzing sound made him stop.

  It took Rylee a moment before she realized it was coming from her earpiece. Rylee scanned the floor and spotted the thumb-size device sitting in the corner. Hurriedly, she picked it up and positioned it inside her ear. With a tap, she activated it.

  “Ry here,” she said.

  Over the line Serghei’s voice crackled to life. “Uh…I know you had a tough morning with your grandfather, and all. So, you probably don’t want to talk, but…”

  “Spit it out, Serg.”

  “Well…have you seen Preston? He’s not answering his earpiece.”

  “He was here. He’s gone now.”

  “Ah, that could be a problem.”

  “Problem? Why, what’s going on!”

  “Regulators. They’re stopped outside Preston’s housing unit. I saw them on my way home.”

  Rylee cursed as she went to grab her rifle before making for the door. “Keep trying him, Serg,” she said. “I’m going after him.”

  “Right,” Serghei replied, then the line went dead.

  Bursting out into the dark street, Rylee made for her Harley. Then she thought better of it. Preston’s housing unit was only a few blocks away. She could run there almost as swiftly, by taking back alleyways. Plus, the roar of her bike could attract unwanted attention from the Regulators.

  Veering left, she bolted down an alleyway, startling a stray cat.

  Oh, Preston! Don’t go home yet. She didn’t know why the Regulators were outside Preston’s housing unit. As likely as anything, they were there to bring in someone else in for Deprecation. But what if they weren’t?

  Rounding another corner, she slipped on some loose gravel, bashing her knee onto the asphalt. Instantly, she was back on her feet, sprinting. Ignoring the pain.

  The closer she drew to Preston’s housing unit, the more her hope faded and her dread grew. Where was he? Already back in his apartment, safe from any molestation by the Regulators? Still on his way, about to enter his home and be trapped? Wandering the streets in a deep pocket of the slums?

  Surely Preston wouldn’t tramp boldly into a housing unit surrounded by Regulators, too disillusioned to notice them, or care. Would he?

  One more turn.

  And then she was on his street, a few hundred yards from Preston’s housing unit. Still no sign of Preston. Pale lights from windows shown down, feebly holding back some of the darkness. It was not yet the hour for the electricity to be shut off. Slowing her pace, Rylee moved closer to the walls of the buildings, where the shadows were deepest.

  As she drew closer, she saw the silhouette of vehicles in the gloomy street outside Preston’s housing unit. A van without back windows, and a group of electrocycles. No sign of any Regulators.

  Where are they?

  The front door of the housing unit burst open. Several dark shapes emerged. Their dark uniforms melded with the night. She could still make out the precision in their movements, as well as the familiar shape of their assault rifles. One day, she would have to get herself one of those rifles.

  Two more Regulators, followed the first two. There was a figure between them. Rylee caught her breath and forced herself to stifle a cry.

  Preston.

  His head was bowed. But she knew that hair. That strong chin. Those weight-bearing shoulders anywhere. They were escorting him out of the building. But why? What had he done?

  Then she realized. Preston had done plenty. And so had she. Had someone ratted them out? Who?

  There wasn’t time to try and figure that out. Preston needed her. There wasn’t anyone else in the Alliance who could save him right now.

  Removing her rifle from her shoulder, she brought the trusted weapon up to her cheek, her finger along the trigger, her right eye to the scope. Murky blues and purples framed the orange and yellow outlines of the Regulators and Preston. She fixed her reticle on the right-most Regulator holding Preston and moved her finger to the trigger. She wouldn’t be able to eliminate all of them before they returned fire. Perhaps it would be enough, though, to allow Preston to escape.

  Slowly, she squeezed the trigger. Before she could fully engage the trigger, a force rammed into her on her left, knocking her deeper into the mouth of an alleyway. Only stunned for a breath of a moment, she turned and struggled against her assailant. Thrusting her elbow out, she struck something solid. Probably ribs. Her attacker let out a sharp grunt of pain. Not waiting for whoever it was to recover, she swung the butt of her rifle around to strike his head.

  Her attacker ducked, grabbing her rifle and yanking it free of her grasp.

  Blast! Now running wasn’t an option. She really needed her pistol back. If she got out of this, she would have to work on that.

  She moved to try and take out one of her attacker’s knees.

  “Rylee,” her attacker hissed. “It’s me.”

  Rylee paused. “Grayson?”

  “Yes. Now stop fighting. You’ve already given me a nasty bruise on my side.”

  “Give me back my rifle,” she said, lunging for it. “I need to help Preston.”

  Grayson jerked it away. “You’ll get both of you killed.”

  “Not before I kill a few of them.” Again, she tried to grab her rifle free from Grayson’s grip. He dodged and put out a blocking hand. Knocked off balance by the blow, Rylee fell to the ground.

  “There’s a better way to help him,” he said.

  “What is it? Stand here and watch like cowards as they take him away?” Picking herself up, she moved closer to him, but didn’t attack. “You may deal with your problems by running away and hiding, but I fight back. Now, give me my rifle.”

  The heat of her anger singed her words. Every second she spent fighting with Grayson, meant another second lost to save Preston. Already, it might be too late. She threw a punch at his face, but he easily dodged it. Blasted Elect.

  “Listen,” Grayson replied, his voice frustratingly unperturbed. “You’ve got to trust me. I can help. Just like I helped your grandfather. I promise you, I’ll help you get Preston back. But if you go gunning down Regulators, more will come. They’ll find you. They’ll find him. If they cared enough to track him down now, they will do it again. Trust me.”

  The sound of a car door slamming shut stopped Rylee’s heart. She pushed her way passed Grayson and peered out from around the mouth of the alleyway, just in time to see the van and its escort of Regulators drive away.

  For several moments, Rylee stood there, her breath coming out in short bursts of white clouds. Gone. Preston was…gone.

  She whirled around to face Grayson, chest heaving. “If anything happens to him, I swear…I’ll make you pay dearly for it.” She would also never forgive herself.

  “Look,” he said, “they’re probably bringing him in to investigate his connection to the murder of Michael Pike.” He held up his hands to stop her from saying anything. “I don’t know if he is—nor do I care. However, if I’m right—and he is—then they’ll want to link him to the other murders. Which they won’t be able to do without some heavily-fabricated evidence. It won’t work.”

  “What are you trying to say?”

  “Only that we have a few days. They won’t publicly execute him, because it would be an embarrassment to the Alliance when the murders continue—which they likely will. Also, most of the Elects will no doubt reject the ruse. More likely, they’ll deal with him quietly in the next Deprecation run. We have some time—that’s my point.”

  Rylee crossed her arms and glowered at him. “You said you could save him. What’s your plan? Don’t
tell me you don’t have a plan.”

  “I have a plan…partially.”

  “Partially!” she shouted. “We just let them take Preston away because you partially have a plan!”

  “Unless you want the Regulators to take us too,” he growled, “I suggest you keep your voice down. Look, unlike you, I don’t go making snap decisions without all the data. I have a plan for our next course of action. And it involves you taking this.”

  In the darkness, she saw him reach into the breast pocket of his coat and remove something. It was too dark for her to tell what it was.

  “And what is that?” she said.

  “This...” He stepped in closer, until his face was just inches from hers. “This is what turns people into Elects.”

  TWENTY-FIVE

  “Are you demented? There’s no way in Desolation you’re turning me into an Elect.” Rylee stepped away in disgust, as if the very scent of the object Grayson held in his hand wreaked of decaying flesh.

  “I thought you wanted to help Preston. To help your grandfather,” Grayson said.

  “Don’t try to manipulate me. I’m not going to become one of you.”

  Turning around, she started marching down the alleyway. She would go to Serghei’s place. Together, they’d come up with a real plan. Abruptly, she halted and turned back around.

  “I’ll have my rifle back, now,” she said, her tone as icy as frozen steel.

  Wordlessly, he held it out to her. She snatched it away, then turned and started walking again.

  “I need your help, Rylee,” he said from behind her.

  “Don’t care,” she called back.

  “You can’t do this without me. You don’t know what you’re up against. You can’t just shoot away all your problems.”

  Rylee kept walking. She didn’t shoot her rifle at all her problems. She used her pistol, too. When her grandfather didn’t confiscate it, that is. But how would she solve this problem now? If only Grayson hadn’t interfered, Preston might be free.

  Become an Elect? Of all the loathsome, half-baked, arrogant ideas…

  Did Grayson think he could get her to magically trust him enough to let him desecrate her brain, then use his Real-time Creep Virus to control her? Not going to happen.

  Behind her, the sound of footfall told her that Grayson was following close behind. For a person who’d managed to sneak up on her twice, he sure did walk like a full squadron of Regulators. Was he trying to make his presence known? A fleeting thought came into her mind to give a quick kick behind her. She didn’t bother. He would dodge it.

  What would it be like to react so quickly, with such precision? A tantalizing thought.

  No! I won’t become a monster just to have amazing reflexes.

  It would be so much easier to kill Elects. Other Elects.

  No. She wouldn’t even consider it. The idea was too repulsive.

  “Are you willing to let your grandfather and Preston die simply because you’re afraid of the very thing they need?”

  She stopped midstride and whipped around. “I am not afraid of you or your PNU or any blasted Elect. But I am not going to become the one thing that I hate the most. I’ll find another way to save Preston and my grandfather.”

  “Rylee, the PNU wouldn’t change you unless you allowed it to. Honestly, most men can’t handle the kind of power the PNUs give. That’s the problem. It’s not the PNU changing them. It just makes it easier to see who they really are. I don’t think the PNU will turn you into what you fear. You’ll still be you. You’ll still hate the sight of me. And you’ll still have no sense of humor.”

  Almost against her will, she smiled. And she wanted to punch him for it. She shouldn’t be smiling just after Preston had been taken by the Regulators. Preston. Her Preston. Who had always, always, always been there for her. And now that he needed her…she didn’t even begin to know what to do.

  “At least give me a chance to explain my idea. You owe it to your grandfather and Preston to understand all the options.”

  “I’ll give you a chance to run, before I rid the world of one more Elect,” she said, lifting the muzzle of her rifle to Grayson’s chest. “This time, I know it’s loaded.”

  “He’ll be Deprecated before the end of the week, unless you listen to me,” Grayson said, unfazed by the rifle pointed at his heart.

  “I will find another way,” she growled. “Serg and I…we’ll come up with something.” She said it more to convince herself. They could save him, couldn’t they?

  “And what will that plan be?” Grayson scoffed. “Shoot people? Not every problem can be solved with a gun, Rylee.”

  “Go choke yourself,” she hissed, then turned and stormed away.

  He followed her. Not closely, but he followed her all the way to Serghei’s place. Fine. He can see how much Feng likes Elects.

  She tapped her earpiece. “Serg, let me in?”

  A moment later, her earpiece hissed. “You do realize,” Serghei said, “that you have a stalker following you?”

  “I know. Now, open the door.” She was beyond caring if anyone else knew about Grayson. What did it matter now that the Alliance held Preston in custody?

  A few clinks and rattles sounded behind the outer door to the warehouse, then it squeaked open. Serghei pointed his nose out into the dark alley. “Welcome,” he said. Then he looked past her to where Grayson stood behind her. “Is your stalker coming in, then?”

  Rylee pushed past Serghei. “Honestly, I don’t care. He’s just a parasite. An Elect. Let him in. Maybe Grant will chew off his face.”

  “I’m here to help your friend,” Grayson said. “My name’s Grayson.”

  Rylee turned to see Grayson hold out a hand for Serghei to shake. Serghei just looked back at her, his brows knit together in confusion. Rylee let out an angry groan, then turned and proceeded to Serghei’s room.

  “I sense a really fascinating story here,” Serghei said from behind. “This could be better than an Alfred Hitchcock film.”

  Leave it to Serghei to think that having an Elect follow her home fascinating. She charged into Serghei’s lantern-lit room, and immediately began pacing the floor.

  “I guess you saw that they got Preston?” Feng was sitting on the couch, leg propped up, Mountain Dew in one hand.

  “Yes, I saw,” she said. “And it was all his fault.” She shot a stiff finger at Grayson as he and Serghei entered the room.

  Grayson held up his hands defensively, smiling. “What’d I do?”

  “Who’s this tripe face?” Feng said.

  “He’s the Elect who broke Preston’s nose,” she said. “And now he’s trying to ruin my life.”

  “What!” Despite his broken leg, Feng was up from the couch in an instant, his Berretta pointed directly at Grayson. “Why the blazes is he here?”

  Grayson took a step back. “Man, Rylee,” he said. “You and your friends, and your little get-to-know-you game…Look, I’m here to help Preston. You need my help. If you shoot, Preston’s as good as dead.”

  Feng looked at Rylee, keeping his gun trained on Grayson.

  “I helped save Rylee’s grandfather,” Grayson added.

  “What’s this tripe face talking about?” Feng’s face was flushed with anger, and the muscles in his arms were so tense his veins looked like they would burst from his skin. Despite her frustration with Grayson, she couldn’t suppress the surge of fear that Feng would actually harm him.

  “Leave him alone,” she said, careful not to let her voice betray her concern. It wasn’t hard. She was genuinely annoyed with herself for being so weak. “He’s telling the truth. He did stop the Regulators from taking my grandfather this morning.”

  Feng looked at her as though she’d just confessed that she secretly loved Serghei. “Are you trying to tell me that he’s your boyfriend, or something?”

  “No!” Rylee cried. “He’s just a…I don’t know…friend.”

  “So, you’re friends with Elects now?”

&nb
sp; “No…no…” Did she really have to have this discussion twice in one day? How did she explain what Grayson was? She didn’t even understand it herself. “Look, just put down the gun, Feng, and I’ll explain everything.”

  Feng looked at her skeptically. Finally, he let down his Berretta and carefully lowered himself back onto the couch. “This is messed up, you know that right? We’re supposed to kill punks like this.”

  “Yes, but is it not much more interesting this way?” Serghei said. It was apparent from his tone that he was enjoying this twisted turn of events a little too much. “Drink, anyone?”

  Seeing that Serghei was going for his stash of Mountain Dews, Grayson lifted a hand. “I’m parched.”

  Great. Give him more fuel for his stupid PNU.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Feng said. “Treating him like a guest, or something…Idiot”

  Since Feng had stopped pointing his gun at Grayson, Rylee had relaxed somewhat.

  “We’re waiting on this story, Ry,” Feng added.

  Right. Just what she wanted to do: confess to Feng and Serghei how her life had become entangled with an Elect. The kind of people they’d hunted down and killed. She needed their help, though. She’d need to convince them that she was still one of them…without getting Grayson killed in the process.

  She started her story with everything that happened after she’d left the hideout following their very first encounter with Grayson. She told them how she’d prowled the streets until the early morning hours, looking for him, wanting to avenge Preston. She told how she’d come home to find Grayson sitting at her table with her grandfather, and how she’d tried to shoot him, but her grandfather stopped her. She told them how Grayson had—somehow—stopped the Regulators from taking her grandfather for Deprecation. She skipped over her deceits about the Mountain Dews, and how Grayson stopped her from shooting at the Regulators sent to collect Preston. Her intention was to make Feng less hostile, not more.

  “Of all the people in this gang,” Feng said when she’d finished, “you’re the last one I’d expect to do us all like you’ve done. It’s harsh, Ry.”