Ascendant Unrest

by Matthew S. Cox

  4

  Training

  Maya sat cross-legged on the ground in the parking lot behind the apartment building. An unusually clear sky bathed the area in warm sunlight despite a hint of chill in the breeze. Weeds and grass struggled up from numerous cracks in the paving, trapping the occasional empty cup or plastic carton riding the wind. A hint of Mexican food crossed her nose―probably Pick’s sister cooking. Naida could do amazing things with even cheap food, making it a treat whenever her turn to feed the building’s children came up. Pick didn’t mind it if people used his real name, Ruben, though only his sister bothered. Unlike Sarah, the nickname didn’t bug him. Though, it didn’t really annoy Sarah enough to complain to anyone other than Maya.

  Pick, the six-year-old pirate captain, stood in the middle of his huge, derelict car (pirate warship) while the twins played the part of crew. With near-identical outfits, Maya couldn’t tell them apart save for assuming Marcus to be the one who kept looking at her.

  Near the left-side fence, Sarah sat on a swing Zoe had made from scrap metal, chain, and a length of cushioned board. Emily’s mother fixed things in the building, more out of a mixture of kindness and ability than any reward. Mr. Mason had been the official superintendent, but the only thing he ever seemed interested in putting his hands on were young girls. Zoe did all the maintenance work.

  Sarah didn’t swing with much effort, though watching Pick and the twins pretend she was a dangerous mermaid chasing their boat did tease a smile onto Maya’s lips.

  Emily, arms out to the side, attempted to walk while keeping her feet on the narrow trails of grass zigzagging across the lot. Heel to toe, she crept around as if on a balance beam, singing softly to herself.

  The whirr of an Authority drone in the distance made everyone pause. Maya searched the sky for it, but the way the fan noise echoed from nearby buildings offered little clue as to its direction.

  “Sea dragon!” shouted Pick. “Turn hard left.”

  “You mean hard-a-port?” asked Marcus.

  “Naw, man.” Anton shook his head. “Left is starboard.”

  “Nuh-uh.” Marcus pointed right. “Starboard is right.”

  Anton gestured to the left. “Yeah, starboard is right, as in the right answer for turnin’ left.”

  “I’m the captain, and I say we call left, left.” Pick pointed to the side. “Turn ’fore the dragon gets us!”

  The high-pitched wail of the drone faded to silence. Since it hadn’t appeared, Maya relaxed.

  “Hey,” chirped Emily.

  Maya glanced to her right at pink-painted toenails upon a tuft of brown grass. “Hi.”

  The younger girl squatted beside her, fancy doll dress rustling. “What’s wrong?”

  The woeful look on her face made Maya feel bad for causing it. “Genna’s gotta drive somewhere far away and it’s dangerous.”

  Emily grinned. “The faeries told me she’ll be okay.”

  Faeries… Maya resisted the urge to roll her eyes. They called Sarah Faerie due to her being Irish, but this kid thought actual faeries (tiny people) lived in their building too. Pretending to see them might be one of those ‘child’ things Maya couldn’t quite figure out―or maybe the girl suffered hallucinations. “That’s good.”

  “Genna’s tough.” Emily lowered herself to sit and stretched her legs out. “Daddy said they’re bringing medicine to sick people. They don’t gotta shoot anyone for that.”

  Only if bandits want to steal the Xeno. “Yeah.”

  The boys erupted in a sword fight, battling imaginary monsters coming up out of the water. A pair of men, gangers by appearance, walking by the rear fence looked in at the sea battle and smiled. Maya watched them until they passed out of sight, confused by thugs grinning at a bunch of kids screaming and waving fake swords. According to the AuthNet, Hab gangs were dangerous and to be avoided at all costs.

  “What?” asked Emily.

  “Huh?” Maya glanced at her.

  “You’re making a funny face.” Emily crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue.

  “Oh. Those two men look like they’re in a gang, but they smiled.”

  “It’s the dosers who’re bad,” whispered Emily. “The others are nice to us.”

  Maya sighed in her mind. Yeah, until we’re older.

  “Rubén, almuerzo!” called Naida from a window above and behind. “Entra ahora.”

  Pick paused mid-swordfight, standing on the roof of the car, and looked up toward the building. He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “¿Pueden mis amigos comer también?”

  “Si, por supuesto.” The metallic scrape of a closing window cut the air.

  “C’mon,” yelled Pick. “Food!”

  He jumped to the ground and sprinted into the building with the cheering twins close behind. Maya waited for Sarah to get off the swing and trudge over before she stood. She seemed a little too sad over her father having a lucid conversation earlier. There had to be more going on, but what? Maya forced a smile, despite her worry that something would happen to Genna. Being gloomy would only make her friend’s mood worsen. They’d be sharing a bedroom later that night, and when they had a moment of privacy, she’d try to get her to talk.

  “Hey,” muttered Sarah.

  “Hey.” Maya put on her drug-advertising smile but only held it for a few seconds. She’d never been genuine on the air, and doing it to Sarah felt even more wrong. “You okay?”

  “Yeah, I guess.” Sarah offered a halfhearted shrug.

  Maya headed for the door, grunting as she tried to haul the old aluminum frame open. Sarah helped, and the metal slid apart with a scrape that made all the muscles in her back lock up for an instant. Emily ducked under their arms and zoomed into the stairwell. Together, they shoved the door aside and entered the hall, heading for the fire stairs and Pick’s home on the third floor.

  A bang came from the right, inside Mr. Mason’s ground-floor apartment, seconds before the door swung open.

  Sarah screamed and grabbed on to Maya from behind.

  Maya went wide-eyed and stood statue still. He’s back! He knows who I am. He’s gonna know what I did. She attempted to dart to the stairwell before Mason could see her, but Sarah, paralyzed with fear, held her fast.

  A man, older looking than The Dad with olive skin, stormed into the hallway. His face had a faint appearance of artificiality, which made Maya suspect he managed wrinkles with the same treatment Ascendant executives used. A hint of silver above his ears put him in grandpa territory. His dark suit and short, neat black hair gave off a sense of wealth. Upon noticing the girls, he raised a quizzical eyebrow.

  Not Mr. Mason.

  Maya covered her mouth with both hands, too relieved to do anything but breathe.

  Shuffling and bumping from the doorway behind the man suggested multiple people moved heavy things around inside.

  Sarah, trembling, leaned her weight on Maya, as if only her grip kept the girl from collapsing to the floor. She gulped for air, standing rigid, too terrified to even try to run away.

  Emily looked back and forth between them, confused.

  “Are you all right, girls?” asked the unfamiliar man. He took a few steps closer. “What are you screaming about?”

  Maya puffed up her chest, standing protectively in front of her taller friend. “Who are you?”

  The man offered a pleasant smile and gestured around at nothing in particular. “I am Mr. Narov. I’m the owner of this building.”

  “Oh. Hello.” Maya put on her polite smile. “Why are you in that apartment?”

  “C’mon,” whispered Emily before running into the fire stairs.

  “The former superintendent will not be returning. We are cleaning the place out.” A sneer of distaste curled Mr. Narov’s upper lip.

  “You saw what kind of pictures he has, didn’t you?” Maya narrowed her eyes.

  Narov’s disgust shifted to suspicion for an instant before he looked horrified. “How did you…?”

&n
bsp; Oops! Maya put on her widest-eyed, most frightened face. “Mr. Mason invited me inside. He had a washing machine and wanted to clean my clothes. He said it would be okay if I didn’t have anything on while we played video games. I didn’t trust him, so I ran away.” She wrapped her arms over Sarah’s where they encircled her. “He tried to get my friend, too. That’s why she screamed. When the door flew open, we thought it was him coming after us.”

  Mr. Narov’s face reddened. “Damn, miserable son of a―” He closed his eyes and let out a slow breath. “I had no idea what sort of man he was. If I’d have known….”

  “Was?” asked Sarah in a small voice.

  “Yes, was.” Mr. Narov gestured at the apartment. “We are cleaning the place out because he died.”

  “How did he die?” asked Maya.

  “I’m not sure. I only received a notification from the Authority because I was his registered employer. Word is that he’d been arrested. I’ve had investigators going over my records for days now based on whatever that man had been involved with.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “That abomination, his preoccupation with young girls, was icing on the cake. Found that by accident when they were after him for something else. They didn’t tell me a damn thing about it, but I doubt they’re tearing my offices apart over those images.”

  Maya shook her head. “They thought he was trying to assassinate that woman who owns Ascendant.”

  “What?” Narov stooped closer to eye level. “Where did you hear that?”

  “People talking.” She squeezed Sarah’s hand into her chest. “Someone said he had secret information. I dunno. I’m only nine.”

  Three men in blue-grey jumpsuits exited the apartment in single file, lugging large plastiboard cartons to the front door.

  “Well, girls, don’t you worry another minute about that man. He won’t be back. I’m sorry for not checking up on him more thoroughly. I’ll make sure the next super is trustworthy.”

  “What about Zoe?” asked Maya. “She does all the work anyway. That other man didn’t do anything. Did you know there’s like a whole wall on the ninth floor that’s missing? This guy never did anything to fix it.”

  Mr. Narov glanced upward. “Ninth? Hmm. No, I never heard anything about a hole in the wall.”

  “It’s more than a hole,” said Sarah. “Most of the wall is missing.”

  “I’ll check into it.” He sighed. “Again, no one had sent me any word of significant structural issues.”

  Maya raised one eyebrow. “If you go around back behind the lot you can see inside the ninth floor from the outside. It’s surprising the tenth story hasn’t fallen in yet. You could probably get more people renting here if it didn’t look ready to collapse.”

  He lowered his gaze to Maya, tilting his head to the side as a look of recognition came over him. She held her breath, dreading how he’d react if he realized who she was. Sarah had ceased trembling but kept clinging to her from behind. His lips parted, but before he could speak, the workers came back in and approached with questioning expressions. Mr. Narov stood back to his full height. “Get rid of everything and spray it down.” He suppressed a shudder. “I need to check something upstairs.”

  With that, Mr. Narov nodded goodbye and strolled off to the main stairwell. As soon as he opened the door, his face scrunched up.

  “No one uses that stairway ’cause it stinks,” said Sarah, not loud enough for him to hear.

  “Are you okay?” Maya turned to face her. “You’re still kinda shaking a little.”

  Sarah bit her lip. “I almost peed when that door flew open.”

  Maya hugged her. “He’s dead. We’ll never see him again.”

  “I can’t believe it worked.” Sarah eyed the apartment and edged backward toward the fire stairs.

  “Yeah… I didn’t know the Authority would kill him. Well, I kinda did, but didn’t really expect it.”

  Sarah pushed open the door to the fire stairs. “Do you feel bad?”

  “Nope. Not about him.”

  “Hey, you guys coming?” shouted Pick. “Enchiladas are gettin’ cold.”

  “Yeah!” yelled Sarah.

  “Forget him. Pretend like he never existed.” Maya grinned and ran up the stairs, pulling Sarah by the hand.

  Chicken enchiladas made odd noises from the depths of Maya’s stomach. The cloying, something-like-rotten-egg smell that pervaded the basement didn’t sit well with a recent meal. She stood on a box to reach the controls of an old cabinet-style arcade game where she controlled a stick figure in the middle of a room. Alien robots came trickling in from doors at the four sides with increasing speed, and if any reached her character, she’d die.

  At a pause between levels, she glanced at the tunnel of old kitchen ranges, fridges, washers, dryers, appliances, junk, ceiling fans, and furniture that led to the exit, all stuff from before the war that the building management kept on hand as replacements. Of course, most of it had sat down here too long to be of any use.

  On her left, Sarah sat on a chair in front of a driving game, another old arcade machine Zoe had resurrected, titled RoadBlasters. The cheesy digital engine noise blurred into the continuous drone of alien robots and the bleeping of her laser gun. Sarah cheered as a little flying thing swooped in and dropped a roof-mounted machine gun on her car.

  An hour or so into playing the robot game, Maya noticed a pattern in the way the enemies entered, and started firing at doorways before they appeared, timing it so her laser blasts reached the openings as soon as the threats came on screen.

  Pick flopped on his chest behind them, atop the squarish patch of carpet where multiple layers had been stacked to create a soft place to play. He had his box of comic books close at his side and balanced his chin on both hands while reading one.

  Marcus and Anton sat in the square as well, backs against a few rolls of carpet Zoe’d set up around the edges. The twins had evidently eaten too much, and lay there holding their bellies rather than hit the ping-pong table or air hockey machine like they usually did.

  Emily sat in a nest of pillows at the corner of the carpeted area closest to the arcade games, playing with a bunch of dolls. That still didn’t make any sense to Maya, but listening to the girl pretend voices for each plastic toy did make her smile a little. Before she could wonder if she somehow failed at being a little girl because she saw no purpose to dolls, the robots started attacking again.

  “Shit!” yelled Sarah, seconds after a digitized explosion noise. She thumped her fist on the console next to the steering wheel. “That car rammed me on purpose.” Grumbling, she poked the start button, slammed the ‘shift’ to the bottom, and stomped on the pedal.

  Marcus appeared at Maya’s side, watching the screen. He stood close enough for her to feel his body heat and radiated awkwardness. She found it amusing but concentrated too much on the game to smile. It didn’t take long for him to relax, and he gawked at the screen.

  “Oh, wow! You’re on level thirty-six!” He twisted to look back at his brother. “Anton, check this out! Maya’s on thirty-six!”

  The ten-year-old grunted like an old man as he stood, still with a hand on his gut, and wandered over. “Damn… she’s good at this.”

  “There’s a pattern,” said Maya. “The bad guys always appear in the same sequence, but the door it starts from changes. Like if it starts at the top, they spawn two top, two right, one bottom, one top, one left, then two each from top, left, right, bottom. After that, the start door changes but it’s the same pattern.”

  “Awesome,” said Marcus.

  “You gonna kiss her?” asked Anton.

  “Better question would be if I’m going to punch him,” said Maya.

  “Ooh!” Anton cringed, grinning.

  Marcus looked much the way a deer might two seconds before being hit by a giant truck. “Eww, no.”

  Maya tapped the joystick to fire lasers, two down, two left, two right, one up. Her thoughts matched the ‘eww no’ part, but she didn’t
say anything. She’d watched enough adults around the Ascendant offices to understand at least on an intellectual level that someday she’d probably feel different about boys, but for the time being, she prepared to pound a fist into his lips if they got too close.

  “Aww, we all know you like her.” Anton gave him a playful punch in the shoulder.

  “We wanted ta go scavvin’. You wanna go?” Marcus smiled.

  “Hope we find ’nother smashed drone,” said Pick. “That was cool!”

  “No it wasn’t.” Maya took advantage of a level break to shoot him a glare. “Those drones are dangerous.”

  “Thirty-seven! Holy crap!” shouted Marcus.

  “Even Emily never got past level five.” Anton patted Maya on the back. “You’re kickin’ ass.”

  “That game is stupid,” muttered Emily. “It’s just stick figures.”

  Sarah twisted herself to the left, leaning as she pulled a hard turn. She downshifted and stomped the brake. A less-loud digitized explosion sounded, and she laughed before cranking the wheel to the right and accelerating. “Missed me, bitch.”

  “So can you go?” asked Anton.

  “I don’t think I’m supposed to go outside.” Maya tensed as a robot got close; she mashed the button as fast as she could move her hand, barely managing to avoid death. “I, uhh… guess I gotta ask Sarah’s dad.”

  “He’ll say yes.” Pick pushed himself up to kneel, sitting back on his heels. “He thinks it’s ‘good training’ for us.”

  Sarah crashed her digital car but didn’t pound the game, instead slouching in the seat. Maya glanced over, worried at her friend’s deflated posture. In that two-second distraction, a robot exploited the lapse in her laser barrage and got her.

  “Aww, damn,” said Marcus.

  After the death animation, the game prompted her to enter her name for the number one high score. She tapped in ‘MAY’ and hit the button to save it.