by Colby R Rice
Zeika hoisted Manja onto her shoulders, and Manja began waving her teddy bear bag. Mama caught sight of them and beckoned. The two picked their ways through the crowd until they reached the tape, but when they ducked under, an AP stepped forward.
"Stop right there." He didn't lift his rifle, but two of his comrades did, aiming right at them.
"They're mine!" Mama stumbled forward. "They're guildmembers."
Zeika showed their member cards, and the AP signaled his team to stand down. The girls ran forward, hugging their mother for the first time in days. Mama's bones practically cracked beneath Zeika's embrace. Her skin lay warm and sweaty over the brittle branches of her frame, her entire body slick like Amazonian wood. She was in withdrawal.
When they parted, Zeika looked around. "Baba?"
Mama's head trembled. No.
She nodded, her throat tight with tension. Their escape wasn't like they had planned, but at least they were getting out of here. That was first. Then, they could reunite with Baba on the Island and plan the next step. Things were going to be fine.
A social worker walked down the line, double-checking each member off a list and running identifications. When he got to them, he narrowed his eyes at Zeika and Manja.
"The emergency evacuation is for special-needs members only."
"They're mine. Mine, minors." Mama took a step in between Zeika and the social worker, cutting her off from the burn of his gaze. "I'm all they got."
Zeika put a hand on her mother's back. Jesus. Mama's bones shook with each pound of her heart. She was coming down hard. Too hard. She was shaking, barely able to string words together.
The social worker sniffed and flipped the pages on his clipboard. "Ah yes. I see here," he said finally. "My apologies, Mrs. Anon."
Mama cast her eyes down at the social worker's feet and smiled, and as they walked forward, Zeika began to relax.
"Wait." He was looking at the clipboard again, his eyes alert. "Mrs. Anon, do you mind stepping over here for a moment, please? Your children too."
Zeika and Mama exchanged glances, but did as they were asked.
In a low voice, the social worker began. "My apologies. I didn't see the note on your file. According to the Guild's records, because you've been repeatedly committed for drug rehabilitation, the Guild of Almaut cannot recommend that your children stay in your custody. We cannot release them to your care unless their father is present."
Mama's eyes widened and her lips parted as though to speak. Nothing came out. Zeika stared at her, her heart kicking up its beat as her gaze begged Mama to break the silence. Still nothing. Whatever she might have said stalled, traffic-jammed in her throat somewhere far behind synapses burnt dead by kunja.
Even the social worker creased his brow at Mama's silence. "As the primary center for social services," he continued. "—the Guild will remand your children to its custody until their father claims them. If not, then they'll be remanded to foster parents until you have reached a reasonable rehabilitative state, at which point they will then be returned to you."
"Mama—" Zeika turned to their mother, her face desperate.
Confusion clouded her mother's face, a sunken and gaunt face, blued at the cheeks… the blush of the dead. Mama looked haunted, cold turkey.
No. Zeika's mind corrected her. High.
One of the buses rumbled to life, and Zeika couldn't offer another thought to Mama's condition, not when every second mattered. She pushed past her mother, stepped up to the social worker. "She wants us in her custody. Right? Mama?"
Mama's eyes darted around, from the social worker to Zeika to Manja. Her thin, cracked lips opened, trying but not succeeding. The social worker's face relaxed, as though his suspicions were being confirmed.
"Our father isn't absent," Zeika protested. "He's just stuck in Demesne Six. The quarantine!"
The social worker sighed, shook his head, and turned his eyes back to his clipboard before walking away.
Zeika took off after him. "We can't stay here by ourselves! How will we live?!"
"The Civic Order can temporarily adopt you as wards of the state in lieu of your parents' absence. But you must stay here."
"How long?"
"As long as it takes for your father to return to Demesne Five."
"Who knows when that will happen!" Zeika persisted. "Koa is here! The Protecteds are getting locked down! It could be months before—"
"I'm sorry, but due to your mother's clearly unstable condition, we cannot allow you into her custody. The transfer is for her and her only."
"Where's Kenneth Taitt? He's the Guildmaster, he can vouch for us. He knows that my father's waiting for us in the Sixth Demesne. All you have to do is let us get on the bus over there. He can vouch for us!"
The social worker's face hardened. It seemed the 'nice guy' act was over. "Unless Kenneth Taitt is willing to adopt you personally, his testimony is irrelevant. Guards!" He turned away from Zeika, pointing at her and Manja as though they were dogs. "These two!"
The APs swarmed them, ripping Manja from Mama's arms and pulling Zeika away. Manja started to scream. Zeika struggled, but an AP was holding her by both arms, ushering her and Manja towards the Guild door.
"Get the hell off of me!" Zeika shouted. "Mama!"
Mama stumbled forward, reaching out to one of the APs with fingers that could only graze, not grab, with words that gobbledy-gooked their ways forward, like dancers with club feet. The AP held her back, barking at her as her awkward, nonsensical words finally took form. Please don't take my children away, please don't, please—
"You bastards!" Zeika screamed as she was pulled away. "I want to see a court order! You can't do this without a judge!"
"Bring them to the office for processing."
"Mama, don't let them take us!" Zeika cried out. "Please!"
"We really need to get a move on," the social worker snapped. "Put Mrs. Anon on the bus, and take them to the office, now please."
Three APs swarmed Mama, pushing her towards the buses, and Mama somehow came to life, scratching, kicking, screaming, biting like a wounded animal, until one of the Guild's doctors joined the scuffle.
A needle went into Mama's arm. Air rushed out of Zeika's lungs, all the fight draining from her.
Mama lapsed into sedation, the APs dragged her onto a bus, and somewhere, Zeika heard the soft swell of whispers in the crowd watching them, tasted the exhaust of the evac buses as they pulled away, disappearing into the distance. They'd been so close, always so close and yet so far, always—
Not real. This isn't real.
The world blurred in a rush of tears, and Zeika fell out of the AP's grip onto her knees. Manja ran to her, and their limbs locked around one another, their bodies the only real things to hold onto as their lives were swept away from them… and finally, Zeika let herself cry.
"Only two dollars?" Zeika narrowed her eyes. "Don't blow smoke up my ass and tell me it's windy, friend."
"Don't sass me, Z, I'm telling you the truth. You can take the deal or roll that piece of shit cart around the Market looking for others to buy. But you won't find any takers. So what's it gonna be?"
Zeika scowled and folded her arms. She'd tried to put on her game face and bury the desperation deep inside, but the jerk had still sniffed it out. He was trying to snag a perfectly snug parka for a disgusting price, one that she couldn't accept if she and Manja wanted to eat. If Baba and Mama stayed missing long enough, then fine. Two dollars might feel like a good day. But today? No sale.
"With things spiraling down into hell and Koa on the loose, people's needs are changing," the merchant said. "Food and clothes are one thing, but if you want real money, you need to bring metal. Get me?"
"I'm sure I don't."
She threw the coat back into the cart and walked off, rolling it across the marketplace square. They needed the cash, but hell, if he thought she was going to start pawning off-the-books firearms to random Civilians, he had another think coming. They had
enough problems without having local law enforcement sniffing around the Forge for illegal activity.
She'd done all she could to pick up the pieces after Mama was dragged onto that bus and out of their lives. Forty-eight hours had passed, and they hadn't gotten a single message or phone call from their parents, not even when Zeika sent all three of her pigeons to circle around the Protecteds and the Island. As promised, the Guild had taken them in and allowed them to keep their old room; they got food and counseling, and Manja was able to attend daycare while Zeika went out to work. The Guild was pretty lax on her so long as she made it back by curfew. Still, they were chained to Demesne Five as wards of the state, and worse, no matter how many times she tried to explain everything to Manja, the little girl still didn't understand why Mommy was gone.
"How you doin', kiddo?"
Manja hugged her teddy bear around its neck. She hadn't spoken much since Mama left.
"Yeah. Me too." After a moment, Zeika brightened. "Say! How about we—" She stopped short as a body she recognized stepped in front of them.
"Got a minute?"
The detective. The one who had come to their lot the night of the raid. His voice was gentle, but Zeika got a feeling that he wasn't asking. She had no clue how he'd known where to find them, or how he'd picked them out of the crowd. All she knew was that it was time to tuck tail and go.
"You're not allowed to speak to me, detective. I know my rights." She kept her eyes forward as she started up the cart again and navigated through the bustle. "Have a nice day."
She walked quickly, but the detective kept pace with her, slipping his hands into his pockets as though they were shopping together.
"I'm allowed to speak to you if you're a witness in a Koan terrorist attack," he spoke in a low voice. "So you need to slow down right now, kid, or I'll be forced to cause a scene."
Zeika stopped again, her eyes wide with shock. A witness? How'd he—
"You showed up on the diner's security camera a couple days before the bombing," he said, reading her expression.
"Well that'd make a lot of sense, detective, because I worked there."
"Then, why weren't you there when the bomb blew? I checked the employee records, and your boss had you on the schedule for that day."
"Yeah, well, I'm not sure how Mort kept his records, but he definitely called me the night before I was supposed to come in. He laid me off."
The detective folded his arms. "Did that make you upset?"
"Of course it did!" Zeika cut a glare at him.
His eyes shifted, and immediately she knew she'd said the wrong thing. She knew what he was going to say even before it came out of his mouth.
"Don't," she cut him off. "I did not bomb the Lakeside. It was my bread-and-butter. How else is she going to eat?" She motioned to Manja, who was hiding behind her bear.
He looked at the little girl, not at all moved. "I think you should come with me. I think it'd be better for you to come down to the station and give an official statement. On the bombing and on the raid."
"I'm not going anywhere with you, and I don't have to answer any of your questions."
"You're right. I'll just walk away, change your status from material witness to suspect, and come back with my warrant. Then, you'd be under arrest. Is that what you want?"
Welp, there went the nice guy routine. Guess he was just another Azure asshole—
But one with authority. Chill, Z.
Asshole or not, he was a cop. If she made the wrong move, he could do more than just arrest her. He could take Manja away. Technically she wasn't old enough to be her guardian, and they had no adult to claim them. Her best bet was to play it cool… and yet, she felt a powerful urge to call his bluff.
Maybe he was a bad ass AP who'd lay down the law if necessary, but above all, he was a decent person, well-meaning. He'd shown that at the Converge and at their lot after Koa's attack. He'd shown who he was, but he didn't know her, especially where Manja was concerned. No one was questioning her, no one was arresting her, and no one was taking Manja away… but if he kept pushing, he was going to find that out the hard way. Everyone in this damned market would.
She gripped the push bar of the shopping cart, feeling her power build up in her hands, ready to set it off. "Come back with your warrant, cop," she challenged. "Then we'll talk."
The detective looked at her, his expression a mixture of curiosity and amusement, as though he were a high-perched cat looking at an angry dog. Zeika huffed, irked at the smile sneaking onto his face. She didn't know what was so damned funny, but she'd wasted enough time. Without another word, she turned and pushed the cart forward. Screw this guy.
"Hey Commander!" The detective called out after her.
She stopped, frozen. Commander? She looked at Manja, whose eyes had also gone wide.
"He took my name…" Manja whispered. "Beat him up!"
"I know you and the kid are scavenging for food," he continued. "Let me buy you something."
"Oh yeah?" Zeika could feel venom spike in her as she whipped back around. "In exchange for what exactly?"
He held up his hands. "Information. That's it. No pressure, no other cops. We can sit in a diner or somewhere else public. We'll eat, and you can bring the kid." He reached out, a card in hand.
She glared at the card and then at him. "This is coercion."
"Not if you agree."
"You want to eat in an Azure diner while Koa's targeting them?"
"It's a Civilian diner," the detective said, smiling, still extending the card. "I don't eat at Azure diners in Civic Demesnes. It's not too good for the local economy."
"You'd eat with Civilians?"
He creased his brow, as though he didn't understand the question. "It's all food, isn't it?"
She cocked her head, curious, and with a slow grace, she took the card from him. "What time?"
"Now. It's a one-shot deal, kid."
She looked at him, wary, and then she glanced at Manja, who was peering around her, trying to get a look at him. Before setting out to barter, they'd only had an apple between them for breakfast, with an extra pita for Manja. She'd be hungry by now. Baba wouldn't be happy that they were talking to an AP, but Baba also didn't have to feed the kid.
All right, cop. We'll play your game for now.
Zeika nodded and let the detective lead the way.
* * * *
They had barely stepped into the Lobon Inn when Civilian customers started turning, looking at them, and whispering in dropped voices. Wolf-moon civvies were scattered throughout the diner but the detective was the only Azure there. Zeika became painfully aware of how people were looking at her, some with glares of accusation. Others with disgust.
"Unfuckingbelievable," one man muttered from the bar as they walked by. It was Franz Diehdrick, local wino and degenerate. As they walked by, he burped loudly and turned, mumbling under his breath. Zeika lifted her chin high above the man's alcoholic stench.
The detective picked a table at the back, and the waitress wasted no time swooping in to get their order and sending it to the kitchen. Zeika looked after her worriedly, wondering if the staff would put something 'special' in their food.
Nonplussed, the detective took off his hooded trench coat and tossed it into the booth. Zeika couldn't help but notice the broad athletic body flushed against the tactical compression shirt he wore. When he settled, he leveled his eyes with hers, observing her. His gaze smoldered, a touch of silver roiling in an ash green that was dark and mute. Black buzz-cut hair, almond-shaped eyes, tanned skin, and a square set jaw with just a hint of stubble.
She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen something that beautiful. And he was staring at her.
Woah, relax. Down girl.
She'd been ready to pummel him just 30 minutes ago, and she might still have to, depending on where this interview went. Better to keep that in mind going forward.
He broke his gaze to look at Manja, who was clinging to Zeika's robe
s for dear life. "How's it goin', kiddo?"
Manja pouted and buried her head into Zeika's shoulder.
Zeika smiled weakly. "Sorry. She's not usually like this. We've had a rough two weeks."
He smiled back. "It's okay."
The waitress set down their food, squeezing Manja's plate of pancakes in next to Zeika's. Still, Manja wouldn't turn around.
"Manja, sweetie. Your food's here."
"I wanna go back home. I wanna see Mommy."
"We're going to eat first, okay? Then we'll go back home." When Manja didn't move, Zeika nudged her. "It's pancakes, honey. You love pancakes."
"NO! I HATE PANCAKES!"
Zeika expected the detective to scowl, but he actually cracked a wide grin. His eyes lit up, and he grabbed his fork.
"Wow, you hate pancakes? That's too bad. They sure look good. Mm, mm, so buttery and syrupy, yum. You're missin' out, kid." When Manja didn't lift her head, he continued. "Oh wow, just look at these chocolate chips! They're even making a smile. Man, these pancakes sure are happy to see me."
Manja peeked out from Zeika's shoulder, looking at him warily.
"And there's whipped cream? It looks so good, I think I'm gonna try some—" He reached over to prod the top flapjack with his fork.
"No, they're my pancakes!" Manja turned around and grabbed the edge of her plate. "You said so!"
The detective gazed at her, a twinkle in his eyes.
"My pancakes." Manja smiled sheepishly. Then she turned to Zeika, trying to whisper and failing miserably. "He's cute, Zeeky!"
Zeika's cheeks flushed hot. "Manja!"
The detective laughed. "Thanks. You're not half bad yourself, kid." He reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out a pen and pad, and then looked at Zeika. "Now, tell me again about that night at the—"
"Oh we're ssstepping out with the Azure pigss now, are we, Z? Thiss a date?"
The three of them turned to the shadow that inked over them. Franz. And he was glaring at them. His puffy red-splotched gaze focused mostly on the detective, but his boozy stench was making its rounds. Manja sank down in her seat, her little nose scrunched up, and finally, she climbed over Zeika to sit on the inside of the booth.