She felt like she should say something, but the words didn’t come to her. Had he been a mean-spirited lecher of a drunk? Someone who’d worked hard at whatever job he could find to support his family, then drank his worries away with his buddies after a shift? A lonely man without anyone to care for him?
She considered a simple ‘sorry’, not necessarily because she felt guilty. She was speaking more for the fact that she couldn’t do more for him, and apologizing on behalf of the random, senseless events that had taken his life.
“Next?” Jay asked.
She looked at him. He was tired, but she didn’t see any signs of the same emotional drain she was experiencing herself. He’d been a gang member in the ABB, had preyed on others, maybe even killing. This job didn’t faze him in the slightest. Behind his shaggy hair, his narrow eyes were cold, uncaring. He could have been carrying groceries for all he seemed to care.
It creeped her out.
“No,” she said. ”I’ve hit my limit. Can you find someone else to move the last two bodies from the factory to here?”
“Okay.”
She stared at the bodies. Hopefully they could arrange something early in the morning. Maybe if she put together a group and sent them downtown to verbally request help? It was only one of a growing number of issues she was having to solve. She sighed. ”I’m going to go see how things are inside.”
“Okay.”
She watched as he left to rejoin Yan and Sugita, the other two ex-ABB members. He must have said something to them, because Yan turned to look at Sierra. The look was intense. It wasn’t jealousy from the Chinese-American girl. It was something else. As creepy as Jay was, his girlfriend’s stare scared Sierra more.
Exhausted and unnerved, Sierra headed back to Skitter’s headquarters. She double-checked that nobody was following before entering the storm drain. It was pitch black inside. Humid. She walked with fingertips tracing the right-hand wall. When that wall ended, she kept walking. It was disorienting, uncomfortable, walking without a guide in darkness so absolute she couldn’t see her hand in front of her face.
She felt the wall again, and she kept her hand on it as she rounded the next corner. There was a wet patch where some small amounts of water were trickling down from the street above… two more paces, then a left hand turn. She fumbled around briefly to find the opening.
That was the hardest part. The rest was easy – finding the doorway, entering the cellar, then heading upstairs to the main floor. She was glad to see light, to let go of that fear that she’d miss the gap and find herself wandering the storm drains and getting lost, unable to find a way back to the surface or the beach. She wondered if Skitter had felt the same way.
She nearly tripped over a small child as she made her way into the kitchen. Charlotte was there, and she was busy emptying the cupboards. Everything edible was on the counter or on the floor, neatly arranged. Sierra estimated roughly twenty children were on the ground floor.
“There’s more than there used to be.”
“O’Daly clan.”
Sierra frowned. ”They need to take care of their own kids.”
“They’re kind of preoccupied. They were hit harder than anyone else by the attack. I think only six of the twenty who were with us are left.”
“I know. But they still need to take care of their kids.”
“Give them one more day to mourn?” Charlotte asked.
“It’s your call. You’re the one babysitting in the meantime.”
“I’m trying,” Charlotte said. ”But they’re switching between playing and being pretty normal kids to crying because their parents are… you know.”
Dead.
“Yeah,” Sierra confirmed.
Charlotte had taken off her mask and was using it to tie her hair back. She straightened it and tied it over her forehead again. “Isn’t the city supposed to handle this? There should be something like foster care, or a special evacuation plan for orphaned kids.”
“I don’t think the city knows. It’s not just the kids. We’ve got thirty dead bodies and it’s not exactly cool out, and there aren’t any ambulances or anything showing up to handle it. We just spent the entire afternoon moving them to a new spot with Jay and two locals.
We were talking about burning them in a mass grave, but I’m worried that’s against the law. And since half of them don’t have ID, we might ruin any chance of their families identifying them.”
“Not easy.”
“No,” Sierra admitted. “How’s the rationing?”
“It’s less like she went shopping and more like she wanted to stock this place like it was a miniature grocery store. A little bit of everything. I’m trying to organize it by expiry date so we can prioritize eating and serving the food that’s going bad now, in case she never comes back and the food starts to get low.”
“I know it’s a bit late, but there’s a lot of us who’ve been working hard, cleaning up the mess from the attacks…” Sierra hedged.
“You want dinner?”
Sierra pressed her hands together in a pleading gesture.
“Maybe soup? I figure we need to eat these vegetables, there’s stock, and if we water it down so we can split it up more…” Charlotte trailed off. ”I never really cooked at home. I helped my parents cook, but that’s not the same thing.”
“It works. Prepare some rice from the supplies, since we have more than enough of that. Bulk it out. We have a lot of mouths to feed.”
“Okay.”
All she wanted to do was stop. Instead, she stepped into the living room, where makeshift beds had been arranged with piles of blankets and sleeping bags. Only two kids were sleeping there, both clearly brother and sister. It was as much privacy as she was going to get. She plucked the satellite phone from her pocket.
This scenario wasn’t what she’d expected, on any level. Even as Skitter had explained the job duties as being helping out, rebuilding, organizing, Sierra had maintained doubts. She’d been waiting for that one job where Skitter tested her limits, asked her to do something a little dangerous, something morally ambiguous. It would be subtle, or it would have consequences she wasn’t immediately aware of, but it would set her on the road to something darker.
Except it hadn’t happened yet. Even the scope of what she was doing here caught her off guard. There were innumerable dead, and yet more people forced out of their homes by the fires Burnscar had started. It seemed like everyone was walking a narrow line between banding together as a community and killing one another.
It felt strange to identify as one of the key people who were pulling for the former. She was organizing everone, keeping in touch with the groups handling the other cleanup jobs and working tirelessly at the hardest and most unwanted jobs in the hopes of inspiring others to keep going. When the smell of shit and rot that accompanied the dead got to someone, Sierra was at their side, helping calm them down, always ready to name another place where they were needed.
It was almost too much. A huge part of her wanted to call Skitter, to get some guidance, to order supplies and defer on the harder problems, like the bodies.
Another part of her was scared to.
She dialed another number instead.
“Yes?” the voice was deep.
She was put in mind of being a little kid, calling a friend and hearing an adult on the other end. It felt awkward. She sort of resented it.
“I’d like to talk to Bryce?” It came out as more of a question than a statement.
“One moment.”
She watched with the phone pressed to one ear as Charlotte recruited some of the older children to prepare dinner. They started putting things back in cabinets, ordered not by the type of food, but by how long it would last. One of the children found a cutting board and began to cut lettuce.
“Sierra?”
“Yeah,” she answered.
“Well? What do you want?”
“Checking up on you, moron.”
“I’m
fine,” Bryce said. He managed to sound sullen.
She crossed the room to approach the kitchen counter and mimed proper cutting technique for the ten-year-old that was preparing the lettuce. It wouldn’t do to have the kid lose any fingertips. Or maybe she was sensitive to the idea while talking to Bryce.
“Is that it?” Bryce asked.
“I was hoping for more than two words of response. How’s your hand?”
“Hurts.”
“That’s going to happen. You lost all four fingers.”
“No. It hurts like my fingers are still there and they’re being crushed.”
She didn’t know what to say to that. I’m sorry? You deserved what you got?
“Ask Tattletale about it?”
“She’s gone. Has been for more than a day, now. Jaw said she’s not to be disturbed with phone calls or anything like that.”
Skitter had been gone for roughly as long as Tattletale. According to Charlotte, Skitter had invited a bunch of local villains over and then left shortly after. They were probably the other eight territory bosses who were working to occupy the city. That had been over forty-eight hours ago.
“Jaw gave me some painkillers,” Bryce said.
“What kind?” Sierra felt a stab of alarm.
It must have been audible, because Bryce replied, “Relax. Over the counter stuff.”
“Okay. What have you been doing?”
“Nothing big. Keeping track of some members of the Chosen as they move around. Hookwolf’s guys.”
“I know who they are.”
“They’ve been moving in. I thought we were going to get in a fight, but Jaw had us all retreat. I think because I was with them. It’s annoying.”
“It’s a good thing that you’re not being dragged into a firefight. Especially one with capes.”
“They’ve been teaching me how to fight with a knife, how to throw one, how to use a gun-”
“I don’t want you learning that stuff.”
“I have to, in case we get ambushed or something. And I’m not bad at it. We could have fought those guys.”
“Did Tattletale tell you that you should fight them?” she asked, already knowing the answer.
“Like I said, Tattletale isn’t around and hasn’t been for a while.”
“So the answer is no, she didn’t give you the go-ahead.”
“No.”
“That’s a good enough reason to back off, then. I don’t know exactly who she is or what she does, but she knows what she’s doing. Trust her in that.”
“Always awesome to talk to you, Sierra. Thanks. Bye now.”
“Don’t hang up on me. Put me on the phone with Jaw.”
Bryce hung up.
He’s supposed to be getting better, more disciplined. Had she made the wrong call? If Bryce was getting training with guns and knives, and still failing to shape up, this thing with him being recruited by Tattletale could be disastrous in the long run.
She waited a minute, then called the same number.
“Yes?” Again, Jaw’s deep voice.
“He hung up on me. I wanted to ask you how he was doing.”
“The boy is learning.”
“I’d rather he wasn’t learning how to use weapons. If he’s getting in a situation where he needs to fight, you guys aren’t keeping your end of the deal.”
“That would be Pritt. He thinks she’s attractive, and listens to her best, so Minor has her accompany him much of the time. She is a former child soldier, she would have thought self-defense was a good way to regain confidence after the boy lost his fingers.”
She could imagine Jaw saying that with Bryce overhearing, her brother getting simultaneously annoyed and embarrassed. She liked it.
“Have her cut it out? I don’t want to sound like I’m giving you orders, but I don’t want my little brother shooting people.”
“It’s fine. Tattletale told us to do whatever you required as far as the boy is concerned. I will tell Minor, and he will order the others to keep the boy away from weapons.”
“Thank you.”
“I will also decide on a punishment for the boy for being rude and hanging up on his sister. I think we would all like him to learn some respect for his betters.”
She could imagine him looking at Bryce as he said it.
“Nothing too serious? As punishment goes?”
“Nothing serious. It will build character.”
“Thank you. Any word on what Skitter and Tattletale are doing?”
“No. All I know is that it will be dangerous, and every squad is on high alert. We are sleeping in shifts, maintaining combat readiness and doubling patrols. We were informed three hours ago that the downtown area is off-limits. I know Lieutenant Fish was deployed there when the order came down, and he has ceased all communications.”
“All of downtown?”
“Yes.”
She hung up and headed for the bathroom to tend to the damage her hands had accumulated over the day’s work. Disinfectant, antibiotic ointment, bandages. Every time she thought she’d found the last small scrape, she found another.
By the time she was done, her hands had as much in the way of bandages as there was exposed skin. She flexed her fingers to make sure she could still move them, adjusted two bandages, and then returned to the kitchen.
“Progress?”
“Nearly done. It hasn’t cooked very long, and I’m worried it’ll just taste like boiled vegetables in water, but you said people were hungry. How do you want to get the soup out there?”
“There’s three spots where people are sleeping tonight. Let’s mobilize the kids and get some food out to everyone.”
“The kids?”
“Everyone needs to contribute. Maybe if they see seven-year-olds doing their part, the O’Daly clan will get the message.”
“Sierra,” Charlotte made a pained expression as she spoke, “They’ve been through a lot.”
“They’re using our sleeping space, they’re eating our food supplies. We can’t hold their hands and baby them. Everyone’s having a hard time these days.”
“That’s cold.”
“Maybe, but I’ve been working from sunrise to well after dark, here, and they were just sitting around, getting in the way, complaining and crying.”
“Most of their family died just a few days ago.”
Sierra didn’t have a response to that. They were still eating far too much and taking up too much room for people who hadn’t lifted a finger to help. “Anyways, think I can use the kids?”
“Don’t push them. Some are pretty emotionally sensitive. But yeah.”
Sierra turned around, “Hey, munchkins! Got a job for you. Help out and we’ll give you first dibs on the after-dinner treats!”
Roughly half of the little ones approached her. Six to ten years old, boys and girls, a variety of ethnicities.
“Who’s the oldest? Raise your hand if you’re ten… okay, if you’re nine? Eight?”
She mentally sorted them out, then directed them, “You, you’re in charge of those three. You’re in charge of these two… You’re in charge of this pair, okay?”
Older kids looking after little kids. They sorted into their groups.
“You’re carrying soup out to the sleeping areas. We’ve got something to carry them in, Charlotte?”
“Yeah. Just give me a minute. Don’t want them to burn their hands.”
“Everyone carries what they can. Take the soup out there and then come back here.”
Charlotte put the lids on the first few containers of soup, and the kids scampered off.
Sierra didn’t give it a second thought until she heard the shutter sliding open.
“Not the front door!” Sierra called out, but the kids were already out the front door. She sighed.
“They’re afraid of the storm sewer,” Charlotte pointed out.
“I know. It’s not that big a deal. I’m going to go out with the next group, just to keep an eye on the d
elivery process.”
“Okay. I’ll prep some for you to carry,” Charlotte said. ”Find more tupperware or pots I can put this in?”
Sierra nodded and turned to do as she’d been asked, but the kids were already hopping to the task. She let them go ahead. It seemed they were glad for something to occupy themselves with. Maybe they recognized how shitty the overall situation was and they wanted to help fix it.
She suspected she’d find the necessary tupperware faster than the four kids combined, but it wasn’t a big deal.
“Well, well, well.”
Sierra whirled around before the man was even finished talking. Not a man, exactly, but boy didn’t fit.
It was Jay. The Japanese-American boy glared at her through his mop of hair.
“Jay. You weren’t invited here.”
“I can see why. Electricity, running water, food… you’ve got it made. Was wondering where you were going, tried following you, but you disappeared. Thought we’d missed our chance until we saw some ankle-biters running down the street with plastic containers of food. Seems you’re hoarding the good shit.”
“We’re not hoarding,” she spoke. She had to swallow to clear her throat. She knew she had to sound confident, “This is Skitter’s place.”
“Skitter’s, sure. If she’s still alive. But not your space. Don’t see why you can have this stuff and we can’t.”
“Skitter gave us permission.”
“We supposed to believe?” Sugita asked, his voice heavily accented.
“Yeah.”
“No,” Yan spoke. She reached behind her back and drew a handgun. ”Don’t believe you.”
There are kids here, Sierra thought.
“Stupid,” she spoke without thinking.
Yan pointed the gun at her. ”What did you say?”
“You know Skitter gave us the go-ahead to use her place.”
“That so? I overheard someone complaining that Skitter left without announcing anything, after the fires,” Yan said. Her tone was mocking.
“You assholes. Least you can do is drop the bullshit and admit you just want to take our stuff.”
“Was thinking about it, sure,” Jay said, “Doesn’t look like Skitter’s coming back. Two days, situation like this? But you’re dreaming if you think we’re going to just walk away with some food. I think we’re going to evict you.”
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