Ascendant Unrest

by Matthew S. Cox

“Damn, ain’t no one ever gonna beat that score.” Anton patted her on the back again.

  “We’ll be okay. There’s more blueberries around.” Pick climbed over the wall of rolled carpet around the square play area and walked up behind them. “And Faerie’s gotta gun now.”

  “It’s not a gun. It’s a Hornet,” mumbled Sarah.

  “Same thing.” Pick held his hands up as if holding a pistol. “Take out bad guys with it and you don’t gotta feel bad for really hurtin’ someone.”

  “Them shits hurt, Pick, but she won’t kill no one.” Marcus whistled. “Saw a blueberry nail some guy with one. Dude crapped his pants right there.”

  “Eww,” said Emily.

  Sarah turned ninety degrees in the chair to face everyone. “I don’t wanna shoot anyone with it ’cause they’re gonna remember and come after me. Better we just run.”

  “Still, you should bring it case we get cornered again.” Anton’s faced darkened with blush. “Sides, Marcus saw a hole inna building what wasn’t there before. We gotta check it out ’fore someone else finds it.”

  “A hole?” asked Maya. “If it’s falling apart, we shouldn’t go in there.”

  “No, a little hole.” Marcus held his hands close. “Like a drone crashed.”

  “So?” asked Maya. “Those are too dangerous.”

  “Aww, yeah. We gotta!” Pick bounced on his toes.

  Anton shook his head. “Not one o’ them drones. Like the type they use ta carry stuff from Sanc to Sanc.”

  “Come on, you gotta go with us.” Marcus smiled.

  “I gotta ask permission.”

  Sarah looked down. “He’ll say okay. Pick’s right. He thinks it’s training.”

  Mom wouldn’t say yes. Or would she? If they were gonna come after me, they woulda done it by now. If she really believed I’m in danger, she wouldn’t have gone with the Brigade.

  “Okay, but we shouldn’t stay out long.” Maya looked at Sarah. “Unless you think we should stay inside.”

  “It’s been quiet. C’mon. Gotta get my bag.” Sarah headed for the maze/tunnel of junk.

  “Be right back,” said Maya.

  She followed Sarah to her apartment on the seventh floor. The Dad slept in his chair, an empty beer can a short distance from his hand on the rug. He didn’t reek of alcohol, so she figured he’d just been tired.

  Once in her bedroom, Sarah hiked up her dress, holding it under her armpits with no trace of hesitation or embarrassment. She grabbed a black nylon holster from the closet and attached it across her stomach with a click strap before stuffing the pistol-shaped Hornet in it and letting the fabric fall down to conceal the stunner. She’d become so skinny, the device didn’t appear obvious under her clothing.

  It hadn’t been that long ago that The Dad ambush-trained the pair of them on how to use it. His voice narrated in the back of her mind, explaining how the Hornet could fire stun darts at distant threats or be used as a close-defense weapon with two metal prods above and below the barrel. That it held thirteen darts on a full magazine seemed like an unlucky omen.

  Maya tapped her sneaker on the rug, contemplating taking them off, but wanted to keep them―especially since they’d likely encounter roaches. What was the point of having shoes if she couldn’t wear them? After having all her clothes taken at gunpoint, Sarah had to be traumatized, expecting dosers around every corner waiting to do it again. Maybe she’s making it sound worse than it really is?

  Sarah grabbed the fanny pack she kept her lock picks in from under the bed and put it on before adjusting her dress to somewhat hide it. “Ready?”

  “Almost.” Maya took a knee and pulled open the Velcro on her left sneaker.

  “I’m not jealous. Keep them on if you want. I don’t think anyone’s gonna steal from you after your face was all over the Hab.” Sarah smiled. “It doesn’t bother me that Genna got you shoes, or Emily’s got a fancy dress, or Book gives new shirts and pants to the twins three times a year.”

  “Does he make them dress the same on purpose or do they like to?” Maya re-secured the Velcro and grinned.

  Sarah giggled. “I dunno. C’mon. Better go quick so we can get back inside before it’s dark.”

  “Why do they want me to go? I’m not really good at scavving.” Maya led the way across the apartment to the front door.

  “Numbers.” Sarah picked up the empty can and carried it to the kitchen.

  Maya went out into the hall. “Huh?”

  “One kid alone is asking for trouble. Two kids isn’t as bad, but still risky. Three, less chance someone will try something. Four, even less.”

  “Oh.” Maya bit her lip. “That’s kinda scary.”

  “It’s the dosers and the weirdos we have to watch out for. The gangs don’t bother kids. Oh, and those creepy Jeva people will grab kids too, but most of us are too old.”

  Maya blinked, thinking back to the two she’d run into. “Really? They seemed nice. Little dumb and weird, but nice.”

  “You’re too old to just grab.” Sarah shoved open the fire stair door and started down. “They take like little kids so they can fill up their heads with that crap about their talking statue and some invisible man in the sky who loves us all. Like anyone would believe that crap if they didn’t grow up hearing it all the time. Dad says they gotta ‘program them young.’”

  “Oh. Well, they did try to talk me into joining.” Maya laughed. “I almost pity them.”

  “Huh? Pity?”

  “Feel bad for,” said Maya. “Kinda like how I do for eleven-year-olds who don’t know what pity means.”

  Sarah spun and gave her an intense hurt look for a second or two before she crossed her eyes and raspberried. Maya couldn’t help herself and giggled.

  Both laughing, the girls rushed down the stairs together.

  5

  Goodwill

  The boys plus Emily met them in the foyer between the main stairwell and the hall to the parking lot by the super’s apartment. A man in a blue-grey jumpsuit carried a spool of red hose in from the street, unwinding it as he went. He glanced at the kids only enough not to step on any of them and disappeared into Mason’s former apartment.

  Pick tried to step on the red hose, but didn’t weigh enough to crimp it.

  “What they doin’?” asked Anton.

  “Spraying to get pervert off the walls,” muttered Maya.

  “Huh?” Anton looked at her.

  “Disinfecting,” said Maya. “The guy who used to live there is dead.”

  “Mason?” asked Marcus. “That dude was a major creep.”

  “Yeah.” Anton nodded. “Book says it ain’t good ta talk bad ’bout a dead man, but good on that guy bein’ dead.”

  “Who?” asked Emily.

  “No one,” said Sarah. “Come on.”

  “Rah!” Pick yelled and darted out the front door.

  The twins followed. Emily dashed after them with Maya and Sarah behind. More people than usual walked outside Block 13, some in a hurry to get wherever they were going, others loitering, and a handful still protesting Ascendant control of the Authority. Four-fanned blue drones as big as motorcycles glided overhead, electronic eyes constantly observing. Their presence had definitely increased since she’d first arrived here when she barely saw one in the span of a week. Whenever a drone got close, Sarah hunched a little forward, trying to hide the Hornet.

  “Relax,” whispered Maya. “It’s not obvious, and they’re not illegal.”

  “That doesn’t mean they won’t take it away from a kid.” Sarah picked up her pace not to fall too far behind the others. “Slow down, Ruben. Don’t spread out so much.” She put a hand on Emily’s shoulder.

  “Can’t believe Zoe let her go with us,” said Maya. “She’s little.”

  “I’m eight,” said Emily. “Pick’s only six, and you’re nine. If I’m little, you’re little too.”

  Maya couldn’t argue that. And I’m sure the faeries told her we’d be fine.

  “Beside
s, the faeries said we’d be okay.” Emily smiled.

  Maya grinned to herself.

  “Hey there,” said a loud man on the right. “Well, heck. It is you.”

  The kids all froze in place as a shaggy brown-haired guy in a long olive-drab coat walked out of an alcove between two high-rise buildings. He zeroed in on Maya and ambled toward her. Pick zipped into his path, as if his scrawny little self would slow the guy down. Anton and Marcus moved behind him, protectively in front of Maya.

  Sarah squeezed her hand. Emily smiled at the man.

  “Easy.” He raised his hands. “No trouble from me, just wanted ta thank her for sayin’ what we all been thinkin’ for so long but no one had the balls to say.”

  “Hi,” sing-songed Emily, waving.

  “Hello there.” The man grinned at her.

  The boys relaxed, evidently regarding Emily’s trust of the man as some manner of supernatural asshole-detector.

  “You kicked a nest o’ hornets there, kiddo.” The man extended his right arm. “Nice work.”

  Maya stared at him for a few seconds before her fear ebbed enough for her to remember that sometimes people shook hands, though never had anyone bothered with a small girl. Usually, she got ignored, head-patted, or nodded at. “Thanks.” She tentatively accepted his handshake, prepared to yank her arm back if he tried a grab and run, but he let go after a few seconds.

  “You’ve got us all fired up now. ’Course, some don’t think you’re real… or really out here with us.” He stuffed his hands in his coat pockets. “Never thought I’d see the day. Damn good of you, child. Name’s Rusty.” He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. “Live in this one here, fourth floor number six. F’ya ever need anythin’, ya let me know.”

  “Thanks. I’m sorry things aren’t changing faster.” She sighed.

  “Not your fault. Don’t blame the match ’cause the wood burns slow.” He winked, chuckled, and backed up to lean once more on the wall. “Keep yerselves safe.”

  The kids resumed their walk, once again with Pick in the lead.

  A block and a half later, they overtook a young woman with light brown skin a touch fairer than Maya’s. A black poncho covered most of her, though she had her hood down and an air-filter mask with slow-blinking blue lights dangled loose around her neck. She glanced up as the faster-moving children passed her on both sides. After a double-take, she jogged to keep up.

  “Maya?”

  She looked up at the woman, more likely an older teenager. Sensing gratitude in the stranger’s expression, she nodded. “Yes. Hello.”

  “Wow, you’re such a little thing. You looked bigger on the screen. Hey, you know, I like that baggy shirt and pants look way more than those stupid glittery dresses they used to make you wear.”

  “Uhh, thanks,” muttered Maya, hooking her thumbs in her pants pockets. “Most people out here don’t care what they wear―they just want to have clothes.”

  “Aww, this ain’t the Dead Space. Girl gotta have a little style.” The woman winked. “You all dressed up like a little revolutionary, ain’t ya.” She made finger guns at nothing. “You hear what’s goin’ on in the Sanc?”

  Maya’s interest in the conversation bloomed. “No?”

  The woman’s eyes went wide as she thrust both hands into the air, fingers splayed. “The Authority goin’ crazy in the Sanc, tryin’ ta prove ’Cendant don’t own ’em an’ shit. Ain’t so many drones now, lotta blueberries. Some of ’em are even talkin’ to Nons.”

  “Dat’s ’cause them drones is all out here in the Hab,” muttered Marcus.

  Sarah smirked, eyes narrowed with doubt.

  “I tend bar at HiveMind―oh wait, you’s little. Probably not know what that means. Forget it.”

  “I’m nine, not stupid.” Maya smiled. “I know what bars are.”

  “Yeah, even Pick knows what bars are,” said Anton.

  “Like on a jail?” asked Emily.

  Sarah snickered.

  “Aww, ain’t she adorable.” The teen patted Emily on the head. “So, like I hear people talkin’. They investigatin’ yo momma’s company fo’ real now.”

  “Vanessa is not my mother,” said Maya in a flat tone.

  “Sorry.” The woman winced. “Say you fo’ real walk away from all that money to slum it out here with us?”

  “Unless you’re hallucinating me, I fo’ real did.”

  Sarah giggled.

  Maya sighed. “Sorry, that was snotty. You mentioned Vanessa and I….”

  “S’awright.” The woman patted her back. “Good on you for what you done.”

  After a wink, the woman turned and went back the way they’d been walking. Maya relaxed. Perhaps Genna had a point. Change came slow. She’d imagined that after her video message played, Vanessa would get arrested, or Ascendant would collapse, or poof―everything would be perfect. Evidently, Emily wasn’t the only little girl in their building who believed in faerie tales.

  Pick took a right at the next corner, brazenly walking past a cluster of seventeen-to-twenty-something gang punks lounging on steps leading to an elevated courtyard in front of a former office tower. Maya’s chest tightened when the crowd took notice of their group, but none gave them more than a cursory ‘oh, just some kids’ glance.

  An open door to a dive bar three buildings later let scraps of conversation into the street. Men discussed a conflict between the Authority and Ascendant security teams that escalated to a fistfight. One man said some of the security forces got arrested; the other didn’t believe the Authority would dare.

  Maya slowed to keep listening, but Sarah pulled her along, whispering, “Don’t fall behind. You don’t wanna get caught alone.”

  The redhead seemed to mother the group like she took care of The Dad, and occasionally whisper-shouted at Pick to slow down. Maya looked around at streets and alleys, sometimes worried dosers would mug them all for everything they could sell to score some chems, and sometimes wondering if Sarah’s experience had left her paranoid. Granted, a pair of dosers had tried to rob her and Genna almost two weeks ago, but they had been in the Dead Space at the time.

  She grinned at the memory of Genna beating the snot out of them.

  “There.” Pick pointed up.

  A high-rise much taller than their apartment building caught the waning late afternoon sunlight, gleaming harsh orange. Maya squinted against the glare, but after a few seconds, made out an irregular hole close to the top. Something had struck the building between two windows hard enough to smash through the wall and wind up inside. From the ground, she guessed an object about four-by-four feet.

  “C’mon!” yelled Pick.

  Despite an approaching e-car, the boy sprinted into the road, making Sarah scream at him. He jumped up onto the hood of an abandoned wreck a good three seconds before the functional car went by. The driver shook his fist at Pick, his yell reduced to an unintelligible murmur by the closed windows.

  Sarah held Emily back by the collar of her dress and looked for more traffic. The twins checked for approaching cars too, rushing across afterward. Pick jumped from the hood to the street when they went by, and sprinted past them to the main entrance, a heavy-looking set of double doors. Pick struggled but couldn’t budge them. Anton used both hands and got the door to move.

  As soon as it opened, a woman’s repetitive moaning became apparent, mixed in with “yes,” “oh, that’s the spot,” “faster,” and louder wails that failed to form words.

  Sarah’s face went beet red.

  Anton and Marcus covered their mouths to stop from laughing.

  Pick glared at the twins, clear in his intention to punch anyone who dared make a remark about his sister, who worked as a prostitute.

  “What’s happening to her?” Emily turned to look up at Sarah. “Is she bein’ hurt?”

  “Umm, no. Don’t worry about it.” Sarah covered Emily’s ears and walked her to the stairwell door on the far side of an elevator cluster.

  Not one of the o
ld lifts looked functional. Junk packed the dead end of the elevator alcove: shopping carts, green plastic trash bins, cardboard boxes, and busted up furniture, among smaller debris like bottles, cartons, and paper cups.

  “Is anything still gonna be there?” asked Marcus in an unenthused tone. “People be livin’ here, maybe they found it.”

  “No one lives here,” said Sarah. “We walked far enough to be out of the Hab. This is abandoned. That, uhh, woman. They just came here to, uhh, not be outside.”

  Maya grabbed the stairwell door and hauled backward, dragging it open with both hands.

  “Whoa,” said Marcus.

  “Damn,” muttered Anton.

  Pick laughed.

  “Poor man,” said Emily.

  Maya peered around the door. A skinny twenty-something man lay naked on the floor with a needle hanging out of his arm. A trail of drool leaked from the corner of his mouth, matching paths of snot dribbled from his nose. Maya stared at him until she perceived his chest moving with breath.

  “Is he dead?” asked Anton.

  “No. He’s high. Took too much and passed out.” Sarah pushed Emily onto the stairs.

  “Someone took all his stuff.” Marcus bit his lip, eyeing the area nervously.

  “Maybe he didn’t have nofin’.” Pick stepped over the man without looking.

  Maya moved around the door and pulled it closed behind them. “He won’t bother us. None of us have anything that would fit him.”

  “He’s a doser,” said Sarah. “He’d take our stuff to sell so he can buy more drugs.”

  “They can’t all be that mean.” Maya hurried up the stairs.

  “He’s a doser.” Sarah added a bit of urgent whine to her voice. “The chems control his brain. It’s not like they actually think about anything. He’d probably try to put Pick’s shorts on and not know why he couldn’t get them halfway up one leg.”

  “If he tries an’ takes my pants, I’ma pee in ’em.”

  “Nasty,” muttered Marcus.

  Maya laughed.

  Over many sets of switchback stairs, they found mostly debris from crumbling walls and little human-created trash. At the twenty-seventh floor, Anton pointed at the door.