Ascendant Unrest

by Matthew S. Cox

  It seemed silly for the law to care about stolen cars. People who took cars outside the protection of the Citizen areas did so at their own risk. Maybe inside the Sanc they’d track one down, but out here? The owner had likely written it off. As far as she knew, most of the cars on the Eastern Seaboard were made in Pittsburgh. She’d only seen a handful of Nons with vehicles, and based on their clothes, they probably had decent-paying jobs. People who made Citizen wages but wanted to pay as little rent as possible often lived out in the Hab. Most of the Nons in the Hab took buses. Chances are, their stolen ride had been expensive; she considered trying to give it back to its owner by way of turning it in to the Authority, but the idea died with the side mirrors. Even if they returned it, they’d get in a ton of trouble for the damage.

  Grey clouds overhead darkened as they approached the Hab, but fortunately, the world remained dry. Most people feared the rain, for they thought it pulled Fade from the clouds and brought it to Earth. Old rumors of aliens seeding the sky and government cover-ups struck her as silly, yet according to Barnes, some people still believed invaders from another world and not Vanessa Oman made them sick. Maya scowled at the window, disgusted at people who could stare clear evidence in the face and still cling to their previous wild theories. Weber thought they’d simply gotten used to Ascendant being the ‘protector’ and rejected the accusation only because it scared them to have to think for themselves.

  Her spiral of anger, frustration, and helplessness stalled as a stiff deceleration slid her forward. Pope pulled off the road and drove for a short distance over uneven dirt before bringing the car to a stop behind the ruins of a one-story building next to a giant yellow M sign. Darker spots formed words where the crumbling bricks hadn’t faded so much from the sun; the shadow of where old lettering had once been read ‘I’m lovin’ it’ above a dried bloody smear.

  “This is as far as the car goes.” Pope hit a button and the console went dark. “Battery’s about dead anyway. Remind me which building’s yours?”

  “Block 13, ninth apartment building on the right,” said Maya. “It’s the only one on that street that’s got two little patches of fake grass in front of it.”

  “All right. Come on. Stay behind me.” He got out of the car, pulling the rifle into a ready grip.

  Maya crawled to the front and slipped out after him. Sarah followed, pushing the door closed with a soft whump. Pope approached the corner and peered around at the alley beyond. Maya crept up behind him while Sarah rushed over to put her back to the fragment of wall, Hornet pointed up in a two-handed grip. He waited a few seconds before continuing, crossing the street to the right while heading for an alley half a block down.

  Following another short survey of the area, he advanced again. Two blocks later, he ducked into an alley on the left rather than take cover at the corner. Maya hurried after him and bit back a yelp of surprise when he stopped short and grasped her shoulder. Sarah ran into her from behind.

  “All right. You two stay here. The building’s over there. I think you had the right idea. Pickin’ up a RCSU on the scope.”

  “A what?” whispered Maya.

  “Remote, umm, combat surveillance unit,” said Sarah. “That little drone.”

  Pope’s intense ‘in the zone’ expression softened to allow a fleeting smile. “Not bad.” Game-face returned in an instant. “Sit tight. I’ll come get you when it’s clear.”

  “Okay.” Maya sat on the street and huddled against the wall.

  “Better idea.” Sarah pointed at a big yellow plastiboard carton among other trash that had collected on the opposite side of the alley by a dumpster. “Concealment.”

  Maya got up and followed her over. Someone had arranged a tiny, improvised mattress inside made of scrap denim, wadded paper, and a ratty blanket. It stank like moldy clothes but didn’t make her want to throw up. She crawled inside, tucking herself against the rear corner while Sarah backed in and pulled the flap closed, guarding the entrance with the shaking Hornet.

  “You okay?” Maya scooted closer.

  “Scared.” Sarah looked down for a second before making eye contact. “About Dad. He was so sick and weak. I’m afraid I’m going to find him…”

  Maya put an arm around her. “Your dad’s a good soldier, like Pope.”

  “Thanks, but Pope’s a Ranger. Dad just scouted. His job was not being seen. Pope’s a killer.”

  “Well.” Maya raised her head. “Those assholes shot your dad. We need a killer.”

  Sarah chuckled with a sniffle. A single tear crept down her face.

  A pop came from the distance, as if someone had whacked a board with a hammer.

  Maya tried to lean past to look outside, but Sarah pushed her back.

  “Don’t. I think he just shot someone. He’s got a silencer.”

  “That wasn’t silent.” Maya glanced at the inch-wide opening in the flap. “It was kinda loud.”

  Sarah whispered, “It’s a lot louder without one.”

  “Oh.” Maya sat back on her heels, hands squeezing her thighs. Pope shooting at someone proved she’d been right to avoid going home. Worry at who else those men might’ve hurt while searching the building for her brought shivers.

  Minutes passed in silence.

  Sarah tensed at the scuff of shoes approaching. Maya pressed forward, eager for the safety of having Pope nearby again.

  The flap of plastiboard pulled away fast, revealing a shaggy, brown-haired man in a grey poncho with a weathered face. A caustic ambiance of cheap alcohol, vomit, and piss flooded their little hideaway.

  Maya leaned back with an “Eep!”

  Sarah pointed the Hornet at him, inches from his nose. “We don’t have anything you can steal.”

  “Whoa!” The man flinched backward hard enough to fall on his ass. “Easy there, girlie. You’s in me house.”

  She kept the yellow-and-black striped pistol trained on him. “Sorry. Some people are trying to hurt us, so we had ta hide.”

  “Aww.” The man coughed as he shifted from sitting to all fours and crawled closer. “Who’d wanna hurt a pair o’ little ones?” He glanced at the tip of the Hornet. “Yer so sweet and friendly.”

  Maya pulled her shirt up to cover her mouth and nose, trying not to obviously gag with him watching.

  “We’re not alone,” said Sarah. “My friend’s dad is coming back for us, and he’s a soldier.”

  The man flashed a mostly toothless grin. “No need ta get all like that, girlie. Ol’ Farnham here ain’t gonna hurt yas. Fact, I’ll help ya hide.” He turned his back to the giant carton and sat on the street, leaning against it. “Jus’ an’ old drunk sittin’ by his home.”

  Ugh. He stinks. Please don’t stay there. Maya’s eyes watered. She grasped Sarah’s dress at the back of her neck and pulled her close enough to whisper, “Pope’s not my dad.”

  Sarah lowered the Hornet and glanced back at her with a feeble smile that couldn’t quite climb out from under her worry about The Dad. “You act like he is, and he’s trying to protect you.”

  “Us.” Maya hugged her from behind, mostly to use her friend’s hair as a filter to breathe through. “He’s protecting both of us.”

  Another short silence passed.

  “So, who’s after yas?” asked Farnham. “Skeevers tryin’ ta steal yer rags, er ’Thority catch ya doin’ somethin’ ya shouldn’t?”

  “Sorta,” said Sarah. “Dosers did try to grab us, and the Authority hates us ’cause we’re Nons.”

  Farnham let off a wheezy chuckle. “Desperate bastards tryin’ ta swipe them rags o’ yours. Can tell yer new out here. Gotta set up a defense.”

  “Defense?” asked Maya, barely able to speak without choking on the fetid air.

  “Yep. No one will take my threads.” He tugged at his battered poncho as if he wore a thousand-dollar suit. “Alls ya gotta do is throw up on yourself a couple times, rub some alley water inta yer clothes, and yer be left alone.”

  Maya turned her head t
o the side and dry heaved.

  “I’d rather not have clothes,” muttered Sarah.

  Hand over her mouth, Maya nodded. Yeah. Me too. I can’t breathe. Pushing at Sarah’s back, she whispered, “Air.”

  “We have to hide,” mumbled Sarah.

  “So where’s this, uhh, ‘father’ of yours?” asked Farnham. “You sure he’s gonna come back?”

  “He’s real,” said Sarah.

  “Mmm.” Farnham chuckled into a coughing fit. He extended a small bottle of brownish-red liquid over his shoulder into the box. “Thirsty?”

  “No thanks,” said Sarah.

  Maya shook her head, not wanting to open her mouth to speak. Again, she nudged at Sarah. “Go. I can’t breathe.”

  “That’s how them skeevers feel when they come ta take mah stuff.” Farnham laughed.

  With a whine at her friend’s refusal to move, Maya curled up and buried her face in two handfuls of her T-shirt. No trace of hunger remained. As one minute stretched into the next, sitting trapped in a confined space filled with such stench made the idea of being chased by men with guns sound like a better option. Only, in order to leave their carton, she’d have to touch the man outside.

  Maybe if I stop breathing, I’ll pass out.

  “Hey, man. Spare a coin?” asked Farnham.

  “Morning, friend,” said Pope. “I’m lookin’ for a pair of kids I left ’round here. I sincerely hope you can give me good news.”

  “Hey, easy, man. Bloody knife ain’t ness-sary.”

  “Pope!” yelled Sarah. She pushed the plastiboard flap open and clambered out over Farnham.

  Maya cringed against the side of the box, but desperation for clean air overwhelmed her disgust and she darted forward, managing to only brush the man with her side.

  Pope towered over Farnham, holding a large combat knife tinted red. His rifle hung across his back, barrel pointed down. At the sight of the girls, he pulled the blade between two fingers to clean it, and slid the weapon into a belt sheath with a click. Maya ran to him, as did Sarah.

  “This guy giving you any problems?” mumbled Pope.

  “No. He lives here.” Sarah shook her head. “He helped us hide.”

  Maya gulped at clean air, hanging on Pope’s left arm.

  “’Preciate it.” Pope tossed the guy a couple NuCoin, took the girls by the hand, and walked with them to the end of the alley. “You were right, Maya.”

  She gulped. “What happened?”

  He led them around the corner, walking casually. “Found two mercs watching the building. They aren’t goin’ to be a problem for anyone anymore.”

  Sarah leapt over a puddle. “Did you shoot them?”

  “Naw. Too loud and messy.”

  “We heard you shoot,” said Maya.

  “Drone was hanging around the top of your building. It’s in pieces now.” He winked.

  “Who are they?” asked Maya, her gaze bouncing back and forth from Pope’s face to the ground so she didn’t step on anything sharp.

  “Were,” mumbled Sarah.

  “Not Authority. Didn’t look like Ascendant either. No markings or insignia on ’em anywhere. Probably freelancers. Found a bag with some, uhh, stuff in it. Pretty sure they weren’t trying to kill you.”

  “Stuff?” asked Maya. “I may be small, but I’m overly mature for my age. You can tell me.”

  He chuckled as they rounded another corner onto the street where they lived. “Looked like a kidnap kit. Chloroform, rag, short lengths of rope, blindfold. Probably some outside party thinking they’ll get money from Ascendant for grabbing you.”

  Maya rolled her eyes. Yeah right. That woman doesn’t pay ransoms. “Idiots.”

  12

  Attachment

  Sarah took off running as soon as their building came into view, a red-haired missile weaving among a few grey-clad pedestrians. Maya walked faster but didn’t want to let go of Pope’s hand. Her friend zoomed across the tiny front yard and disappeared into the main entrance.

  A plain silver van parked on the opposite side of the street and a little ways down sent a shiver down her back. It stood out for being new. Had they tried to go straight home, they would’ve been caught.

  They only wanted me, but probably would’ve hurt Sarah.

  She scowled at the van, absent even the little pity she’d had for the dosers who’d wanted to sell them to DeeDee. Whoever lay dead inside, she felt only relief that Pope had killed them. He hurried toward the building, earning a few odd looks from passersby, most of whom moved to give him distance. It took a few seconds for her brain to acknowledge a thought other than the need to catch up to Sarah.

  “You’re not hiding the gun?”

  Pope walked fast, with a forward lean that suggested he’d have knocked people out of their way if he had to. “Nah. Authority’s got a problem with small weapons, stuff you can hide. Plus, they’re sympathetic to an old vet livin’ out in the Dead Space. Doubt they’d let me carry it into the Sanc, but ain’t no chance of that.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m allergic to livin’ under an army of remote-controlled fifty-cal machine guns and a surveillance state. Like askin’ mice to live in a house built by starving cats. Sometimes I wonder why we even bothered fighting North Korea. I came home to live in it.”

  “Oh.” At the steps, she finally released his hand and flung herself at the door. Grunting, she pushed it open and hurried in.

  The main stairwell echoed with the slam of a door, suggesting Sarah tolerated the stink for a faster way up. Maya cringed, expecting the reek of spoiled milk to make her throw up, but after Farnham, it didn’t even register. Then again, perhaps her nose had died.

  She raced up the stairs. Pope followed at a light jog.

  Around and around she went, up to the seventh floor. Maya sprinted down the hallway to Sarah’s apartment at the left corner. She skidded to a stop, clinging to the doorjamb.

  Sarah knelt in the middle of the living room, sobbing into her hands. Shell casings and blood splats littered the rug, but the lack of a dead body offered some hope. The amount of blood didn’t seem enough to indicate anyone here had died. Plaster dust tinted the interior hallway floor white, and a few bloody handprints marked where The Dad had made his stand. Dots of sunlight glimmered on the wall past the corner, holes from bullets that had invaded their bedroom.

  “Sarah?” Maya hurried over and knelt by her.

  “He’s gone!” wailed Sarah, wrapping her arms around her and bawling.

  Maya held on tight. Gone dead or gone not here?

  A rustle and clatter at the door preceded Pope entering with his rifle across his back, pistol at the ready. He swung his weapon toward the kitchen for a brief sweep of his eyes before fast-walking to the inner hallway.

  Sarah stopped crying only long enough to gasp for breath and wailed again.

  Guilt kept Maya’s tongue still, and she soon inherited her friend’s tears. Unable to speak, she swayed side to side in a gentle rocking motion. Pope returned to the living room, gun lowered. His expression didn’t offer much other than the likelihood the apartment held no threats. He lingered on his feet for a little while as Sarah continued bawling, but eventually took a seat on the sofa, leaning his rifle against the wall in easy reach.

  “They killed him,” blubbed Sarah.

  “We don’t know that,” said Maya, patting her back.

  “He’d be here. Where is he?” Sarah gestured around, sniveling. “They killed him and someone took his body.”

  Pope leaned forward, forearms across his knees. “There’s blood on the rug back there, but it don’t look like enough for a man to have bled out.”

  “Huh?” Sarah sniffled and twisted left to look up at him.

  “Your old man took a hit or two, but I don’t think they killed him.” He nodded toward the hall. “There’s a damn lot of blood inside a person. Dead people make much bigger puddles.”

  Sarah lowered her hands from her face, arms falling limp in
her lap, and gave Maya a hopeful, pleading stare. “If he’s alive, where is he?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Someone’s gotta know something,” said Pope. “You two got more dirt on ya than I crawled in at Songnim. Why don’t ya clean up and we’ll go ’round asking who heard what.” He headed for the couch.

  “Okay.” Sarah wiped her face, stood, and walked down the hall to the bathroom door. “I want my dad.”

  Maya followed, keeping her hand on her friend’s back. “We’ll find him. Ugh, I still smell that guy in the alley.”

  “You can go first,” said Sarah. “Our water heater’s crappy. It’ll take like an hour to get warm again.”

  “But…” Maya cringed. “You smell like him too. Ugh. Rock, paper, scissors?”

  Sarah seemed to become even paler, staring at a spray of blood on the wall. “I dunno if it’s too weird, but if you want…” Her face tinted with blush. “We could both clean up at the same time. I don’t really wanna be alone now.”

  Maya blinked. “Umm.”

  “Yeah. That’s weird, huh? We’re not little kids. Well, you kinda are.” Sarah looked down. “It’s okay, you can go first.”

  Maya watched her friend shivering for a few seconds before pushing her embarrassment aside. How different could it be from changing gowns in front of an entire production crew, plus whatever incidental employees walked in to ask for Vanessa’s input on something? “Okay, you look scared, and I can’t make you wait hours stinking like that man. Soldiers shower together, right? Be right back. I wanna get my clothes.”

  Sarah nodded.

  Having no desire to put the same filthy T-shirt nightdress back on, Maya ran to the bedroom to collect her black shirt and fatigues. She hurried down the hall and ducked into the bathroom. Seafoam green tile surrounded the tub, matching the sink and toilet. The room appeared in better structural shape than the one in Genna’s apartment: no cracks, no mold, and only a couple of missing tiles. A thick brown bathmat offered a soft place to stand while she peered around at an utter lack of supplies. Genna at least kept a few different hair products as well as some ‘womanly things.’ The Hawthorne bathroom had one bar of soap, but the towel on the bar appeared almost new.