Maya followed, stooping to pick up a safety pin that had fallen from Sarah’s dress.
Foz took a hit from a vape wand and exhaled a cloud of fog against the inside of the barrier. The twins and Pick removed the junk from the first cart and Sarah pulled away the sheet. She held up a box of microcomputers while Maya showed off a case of the pills.
“What’s that in the white box?” asked Foz.
“Nine cases of Paratab. It’s a Paracetamol-based pain medication,” said Maya. “Each box has a hundred 250-count bottles. It’s a fairly standard OTC pill, probably about $12 a bottle off the shelf.”
“Hmm.” Foz stared at her, his left eye twitching. After a moment, he leaned up to the barricade. “Let me see the minicoms.”
Sarah moved the box closer.
“BSZ news back now, live with Vanessa Oman, embattled CEO of Ascendant Pharmaceuticals,” said a woman’s voice from the television.
Maya snapped her attention to the screen on the right. The same woman in red had moved to the side of the image, while a box containing Vanessa’s artificial smile appeared in the blue field beside her. Text along the bottom of the screen read ‘Elsa Saeed - BSZ Newsroom.’
“Thank you for being with us today, Miss Oman,” said the reporter.
Vanessa offered a quick nod.
“Let me start off with the question on everyone’s mind. What is your reaction to your daughter’s apparent involvement in the recent disinformation efforts by the Brigade?”
Vanessa put on a somber expression. “Oh, Miss Saeed, I had hoped never to have to reveal this publicly, but recent events have made it necessary. Maya Oman never existed.”
Maya clenched her hands into fists and glared at the screen. Sarah’s discussion with Foz faded into background noise.
“I’m sorry? Never existed?” The reporter raised both eyebrows.
“Yes.” Vanessa shook her head, eyes downcast. “It would’ve been the best part of my life if I had a real daughter, but unfortunately, the girl you’ve all been watching over the past few years was created by our marketing department. She’s little more than a computer-generated actor.”
Maya snarled, trembling with rage. Vanessa’s casual dismissal of her existence didn’t come as any surprise. Being left alone all the time, without even the effort of a goodnight vid call, had long ago proved the woman didn’t really want her. The lame attempt to act sad at her ‘daughter not being real’ went too far.
“That’s bullshit!” shouted Maya.
Emily gasped, mouth agape.
Foz stared at her; after a second or so, the vape wand fell from his lip. “What are you talking about? These things are difficult to sell out here.”
Sarah blinked. “What?”
The twins and Pick got the giggles.
“I see,” said the reporter.
“As realistic as she appeared to be, that child is purely a product of computer imagery. These terrorists somehow managed to gain access to our files and reproduce her for their own purposes.”
“You’re saying Ascendant suffered a network breach?” Miss Saeed leaned back, eyebrows still high.
“I do not believe so. More likely a disgruntled former employee smuggled the files out.” Vanessa’s ‘don’t cross me’ smile returned. “Our network is impervious. We have the best security in the world.”
“No you don’t,” yelled Maya. “Head walked right in and took over that drone!” She looked at Sarah. “She’s lying!”
“You said a bad word,” whispered Emily. She shivered, worried about getting in trouble for hearing it.
The reporter glanced at something in her lap. “The allegations that Ascendant has been releasing the Fade virus on purpose have proven surprisingly resilient to being disproved. Do you have an official statement?”
Vanessa rolled her eyes and made a dismissive wave, as if having heard ludicrous gossip. “Clearly, the terrorists are attempting to destabilize order in New Baltimore. No one knows where Fade is coming from, and any rumors that my company has anything to do with it are a laughable smear. It is beyond my imagination how anyone could even consider that as a possibility.”
“But the Authority is investigating?” asked the reporter.
“Yes, they are. I would not expect them to take such a serious accusation lightly in the interest of public health. When they realize the Brigade terrorists are responsible, you can be certain that appropriate action will be taken.”
“You’re so full of shit I can smell it from here!” shouted Maya.
“Maya…” Sarah rushed over and grabbed her by the shoulders. “Forget her.”
She couldn’t tell at what point rage had turned into crying. “She’s such a liar.”
“Stop swearing,” whispered Emily. “You’re too little.”
“And as a good faith gesture, Ascendant is distributing Xenodril free of charge to New Baltimore’s Fade wards.”
“What about us?” shouted Marcus.
Sarah pulled Maya into a hug, but she squirmed enough to keep watching the TV.
“Some are asking why Ascendant hasn’t taken that step before.” Miss Saeed looked up with a faint grimace, as if she’d been afraid to ask the question and dreaded the response.
Vanessa’s fake smile didn’t crack. “Goodwill in light of extenuating circumstances is goodwill, but a company must remain profitable or all the medicine stops.”
The reporter bowed to Vanessa. “Very understandable. Thank you so much for your time, Miss Oman.” She shifted her gaze to the viewer. “Stay with us. When we come back after these messages, we’ll have an exclusive interview with Jake Cruickshank, the man who has ventured into the wildlands over a hundred times and managed to return in one piece.”
An image of Maya in a glimmery cyan dress appeared on the screen, an Ascendant ad for Panmax, a diabetes cure that only killed four of every thousand people who tried it.
“I hate her.” Maya wanted to hit something but had an armful of Sarah. “She’s such a liar.”
“I won’t tell on you.” Emily bit her lip and swished side to side, making her dress flare. “If anyone asks me if you said bad words, I can’t lie.”
Sarah gave Maya a squeeze and leaned back to make eye contact. “Don’t let her bother you. People won’t believe her. Of course she’s going to say it’s a lie. That’s what criminals who get caught do.”
“Okay then.” Foz cleared his throat. “Comes out to $60 for the lot, which is $8 each for the six of you.”
“Ooh.” Sarah grinned.
The boys seemed excited, though Marcus watched Maya.
“No.” Maya shook her head. “Are you serious? $60? The pills alone have a retail value of…” She thought for a second. “About $9,600, if you sell ’em at $12 per bottle. And knowing this place, you’ll charge at least $20. You should give us at least $800 each for just the meds, plus whatever the minicomputers are worth.”
Foz’s face reddened; his mouth opened in shock, and he twitched. It took him a few seconds to stop making faces as if she’d walked in on him in the bathroom. He cleared his throat again. “Well, you have to understand that not many people out here bother with headache pills. I’d be lucky to sell them at all. I’ve no guarantee they’d move before they expired.”
Maya folded her arms. “They’ve got a few years… and I’m sure you’d pull them right off the shelf as soon as they’re old.”
“The most I’m willing to offer is $200 each. I still need to pay someone to unlock those minicomps before they’re any good to anyone. If that’s not acceptable, I suppose you could cart all this stuff to the other pawn shop in the Hab.” Foz tapped his chin. “I don’t imagine you’ll be interested in selling it in the Sanc, seeing as it’s stolen.”
“There’s another pawn store?” Emily blinked.
“It’s not stoled,” said Pick. “We found it. Smashed drone.”
“No, that’s the point,” said Anton with a frown. “There ain’t no other store. We ain’t got no choi
ce.”
“Deal,” said Sarah. “$200 each.” She leaned close to Maya and whispered, “He knows we have it. He’ll hire thugs to steal it if we leave an’ try to sell it ourselves.”
“Fine,” muttered Maya.
“All right then, form a line.” Foz pulled the retractable drawer in.
The kids queued single file, and one by one retrieved handfuls of NuCoin from the bin.
Maya counted forty-five. “Wait.” She looked up. “How many coins did everyone get?”
“Lots,” said Pick.
“Umm?” The twins sifted their pile. A moment later, they looked up. “Forty-five.”
“You all got the same amount,” said Foz.
Emily pulled at Maya. “My turn!”
“Except”―Maya leaned up to the bulletproof glass―“the amount is wrong. Forty-five NuCoin is $173… actually $173.25. The exchange rate is $3.85 per NuCoin. $200 would be fifty-one-point-nine. We may be kids, but we’re not that dumb. You’re already robbing us at $200 apiece. At least keep your word. It would cost you more time to count out change than just round up to fifty-two NuCoin each.”
Grumbling about smart-ass kids, Foz doled out more coins, bringing everyone’s handful up to fifty-two.
Marcus and Anton bought a giant box of candy each for two coins. Emily held her money tight to her chest, smiling.
Pick pointed at a flower pendant hanging on a shelf inside. “How much is that?”
“It goes with your eyes, Ruben,” said Anton in a feminine voice.
“Shut it, Ant. It’s for Naida.”
Foz glanced at the necklace. “Eight coins.”
Pick nodded, and dropped the money in the drawer. Foz pulled the necklace down off its peg and put it in a small box, which he passed out via the drawer.
Sarah tucked her NuCoin in the fanny pack with her lock picks and zipped it. “You gonna buy anything?”
“No,” said Emily. “Gonna give it to Mom.”
“What about you, smart girl?” Foz raised an eyebrow. “Anything here you like?”
Maya pointed at Sarah. “Do you have any shoes that’d fit her? Or clothes?”
Sarah blushed. “You don’t have to use your money on me.”
Foz shook his head. “Got some, but they’re way too small for her, or too big. There’s a nice new set of sneakers prob’ly fit him”―he gestured at Pick―“if he don’t mind pink.”
Pick raspberried no one in particular.
“Uhh. I got nothin’ kid-sized, but maybe look at T-shirts.” Foz pointed at a rack.
They spent a few minutes examining a pitiful selection while Sarah tried to pull her away, insisting Maya not spend money on her. Most of the shirts had holes or bloodstains. Two bore prints of nude women, and one had ‘I fuck on the first date’ in white block letters on a plain black shirt. That one made Sarah drag her away.
“Stop. I’m fine. Dad will get me something.”
“Want some?” Marcus held his box of candy out to Maya. Red, green, orange, yellow, and white capsules radiated a generic fruit smell.
“Thanks.” Maya gave Sarah a guilty look, Marcus a genuine smile, and helped herself to a modest handful. She tossed a green one in her mouth. A somewhat-hard shell gave way to gummy green apple inside. “Mmm!” Her eyes shot open wide.
“Never had ’em before?” asked Marcus.
She shook her head, unable to get her teeth apart fast enough to talk.
“That. Was. Awesome.” Anton patted her on the back. “Best scav ever.”
Pick jumped on Maya from behind. “Yeah! She gotta come wif us alla time now. We got all the money! She talk smart ta Foz so he don’t cheat.”
“We should get home. It’s almost dark,” said Sarah.
Foz gestured at the window. “Get them carts an’ that junk outta here.”
Grinning and chewing on the sticky, fruity mass, Maya helped collect the scrap appliances. Once the kids finished gathering the mess, the twins pushed the shopping carts outside and abandoned them at the mouth of the first alley they found. At Sarah’s urging, the group ran down the street to their building as fast as their legs would carry them.
6
Cheese Sandwiches
Maya sprawled on the floor, gazing over her array of old cards spread out on the grimy beige rug. Some of them had tooth marks, small tears, dents, and water damage. Illustrations depicted fantastical creatures, resources, magical items, and spells she could use to take away the other player’s life dots. She’d initially thought magic and monsters to be silly, but playing this game with Sarah had changed her mind. It had become fun, and that first half-played game they’d left on the floor when Maya decided to run off and get Genna back had forever burned it into her psyche. She couldn’t even think about these cards without remembering how guilty she felt at leaving without at least telling Sarah what she planned, and how afraid she’d been at the chance she might not come home again.
Despite that, the game was fun.
Except for whenever it reminded her of that night.
Maya lay on her stomach, feet in the air as she surveyed the spread, noting that she could at any time steamroll Sarah’s meager setup in one turn and win. Since they planned to be in for the night, she’d stashed her sneakers under the bed. Her friend didn’t seem to be playing. More like randomly tossing cards around. Sarah sat cross-legged on the far end of the card sprawl, staring at the ones in her hand and rearranging them every so often.
“Ya useless bastards,” shouted The Dad over rapid metal clicking. “I coulda caught that with this piece of shite roto-rooter I’ve got for a bloody ’and!”
“What’s wrong?” asked Sarah. “You could’ve beat me six turns ago, but you’re just building up. Trying to set a record for how much negative life you can give me?”
Maya put her seven cards on the floor, face down, and propped her chin up on both hands, tapping her fingers at her cheeks. “You’re not really even playing. It wouldn’t be fair.”
“Ach!” roared The Dad. “That’s it! Bet he shite himself with that hit! ’Bout damn time!”
Sarah looked down. Her lip quivered, but she kept quiet and collected.
“I’m scared too. Vanessa said I never existed… what if that means she wants to kill me?”
“That’s not it.” Sarah looked up. “If she came after you, everyone would know you’re right. It’s smarter for her to lie and say you’re not real.”
“Oh come on!” shouted The Dad. “You call that defense? Me bloody daughter coulda knocked him on his ass!”
Maya looked at the door. “Does he yell all night?”
Sarah put a card down, a use-at-will spell effect that did one point of damage to every creature in play as well as both players for every point of mana she allocated to it. “Only when his team isn’t winning. I think it’s like a special game or something. For a trophy. So he’s extra angry.”
A heavy thud shook the apartment. Maya jumped, but Sarah didn’t even flinch.
“What was that?” Maya stared at the door.
“The footrest hitting the wall.” Sarah put down a land card. “Don’t worry. He only beats up the furniture. He won’t hit us. Go.”
“Useless bunch of morons!” shouted The Dad. “Is that a defensive line or synchronized diaper changin’ at the old folks’ home?”
Maya picked up her cards. “We should start over. This isn’t a real game. It’s already escalated to stupid and the draw deck is almost gone.”
“So end it,” said Sarah, sounding utterly bored. “If you attack with all your creatures, you win.”
“You have tons of land out.” Maya gestured at her cards. “You could kill all my creatures and both of us with that disease card. You didn’t use it on your turn, so you’re letting me win.”
“Sorry.” Sarah started to lose her fight not to cry. “I’m worried.”
“Worthless fu―” The Dad lapsed into wet coughing.
“You’ve been kinda sad for a while now. What’s
wrong?” Maya tilted her head.
“It’s okay. I don’t wanna make you sad too.”
“Fine.” Maya waved her hand at the cards. “I attack with everything.”
“Twenty-one-point plague.” Sarah tapped the disease card. “We’re both dead.”
Maya laughed.
“What?” Sarah squinted at her.
“That’s the best ending for a game like this. We were both trying to lose.” She put her cards down and crawled around to kneel at Sarah’s side. “Please tell me. Don’t keep it all inside.”
The Dad’s coughing started up again, louder.
Sarah stood. “It’s Dad. He’s getting sick and he won’t go to the VA clinic. I need to check on him.”
She hurried out of the room. Maya followed her down the little hallway past the bathroom and closet and over to The Dad, who sat on the couch, bent forward, coughing, live hand over his mouth, a little blood seeping between his fingers. His skin looked paler than usual, and a thin layer of sweat covered his face, neck, and living arm. His coppery hair and stubble had grown more grey and wild.
Maya stopped a few steps back, eyeing a new smudge on the wall above the upside-down cushioned footrest that had been hurled across the room. Above it, the television showed a paused football game, a drone-eye view of players that looked more like a video game than reality.
“Dad?” Sarah put a hand on his back, rubbing and slapping as he coughed.
He mumbled, coughed, and waved his metal arm at the kitchen. “M’awright, fetch me a towel, hon.”
Sarah ran to the kitchen.
Maya rolled the footrest onto its legs and pushed it back over to its place near the chair. The Dad coughed a little more, much quieter than he had been, and gave her a nod of thanks. His breathing had a whispery, wheezy quality, louder at the end, and he seemed to be inhaling rapid, small breaths.
“Here.” Sarah rushed over and handed him a towel.
He wiped his mouth, chin, and hand free of blood, and flopped back looking exhausted and smiling at her. “Thank ye, hon.”
Sarah leaned over him and fussed at his hair. She took the towel and dabbed his forehead. “You really should go to the VA.”
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