Heir Ascendant

by Matthew S. Cox

  Three boys lay flopped in a clear spot among the rubble, surrounded by at least a hundred small plastic figures and toy vehicles. Two appeared to be twins, short curled hair and skin as dark as Genna’s. Both wore plain white tee shirts a few sizes too big for their bone-thin frames. One had black shorts that looked close to new, while his brother’s beige pants ended in shreds at the knee.

  The third boy seemed the youngest of all, five or six perhaps. A spherical explosion of dark brown hair hid his eyes from view. Shirtless, he lay on his belly in a pair of green camo shorts, using one hand to stick some of the figures into a plastic tank. His right index finger sank two knuckles deep in his nose.

  At Emily’s approach, they all looked up. She flopped on the floor, tucked her feet under herself, and selected a toy that looked like a space ship. The smallest boy went back to what he’d been doing, while the two older ones spotted Maya and watched her with curiosity.

  “This isn’t safe,” said Maya. “It’s open. We could fall.”

  Sarah kept holding her hand and walked her closer to the others. “We’re not allowed to get too close to the edge, so don’t.”

  The twins stood. Both were taller than Maya, but not quite as tall as Sarah.

  “That’s Marcus and Anton.” Sarah looked at them. “This is… Lisa.” She gestured at the caramel-skinned boy. “That’s Pick.”

  “Guess it’s obvious why you call him that.” Maya forced herself to look at the twins. “Hello.”

  “Hi,” said one.

  “Allo,” said the other.

  Both of them seemed fascinated by her, their stares a little too intense for comfort. She started to bow her head but got angry with herself and gave them a stern look.

  “What?” asked Maya.

  They smiled at the same time.

  “I seen you before,” said the one on the left.

  “Doubt it.” Maya glanced over the plastic people. “I’ve only been here a day. What are these?”

  “Dolls,” said Emily.

  “Action figures,” said Pick, a touch of irritation in his voice.

  “What are they for?” Maya squatted and picked up one that resembled a man covered entirely with brown hair holding a crossbow.

  “For playing,” said Emily. She made the toy space ship fly around, adding sound effects with her mouth. “Sometimes the faeries play when we’re all asleep. That’s why they move.”

  “It’s wind,” said Pick.

  Emily stuck her tongue out at him, not that he noticed.

  “We find stuff,” said one of the older boys. “When we go hunting.”

  Maya turned the tiny ape-man over in her fingers, unable to imagine how a lump of plastic could be entertaining. All it did was sit there. Sarah knelt nearby and pointed out names for some of them. After a few minutes, Maya dropped the one she had and picked up a golden man, though the metallic shine had scuffed off in numerous places to a pale tan.

  “That’s Pee Three Cee Oh,” said Pick.

  “You named them?” Maya blinked.

  “No.” Sarah bumped her with an elbow. “They’re from the stories.”

  The boy with the new shorts turned out to be Marcus, though he and his brother Anton took their time keeping her guessing who was who. Maya lost the ability to make eye contact with them for a while, wondering if they’d known Sam, Genna’s son. While they appeared in good spirits, the few times she’d gotten a good look at their faces, a mark of deep sorrow showed clear.

  She abandoned the gold man to investigate another, larger, figure that seemed to be half airplane and half robot man. According to Sarah, it worked like a puzzle. She manipulated its parts, not focused on making either a jet or a man, too distracted by guilt. Hearing people in fancy suits talk about acceptable losses in order to remain profitable hadn’t carried a tenth of the weight of seeing the faces of those expendable ‘scruffy poor people’ who’d been affected by the expense of Xenodril. The more she thought about what Sam and the two boys four feet away from her had gone through, the worse she felt. The one time she’d dared suggesting to Vanessa that she should make Xenodril cheaper, she’d gotten a look as dire as though she’d tried to kill the woman. Had that been the moment Vanessa decided her worthless?

  Sarah wiped a tear from Maya’s cheek, startling her. “What’s wrong?”

  Not wanting to say anything about where she’d come from or who she was or bring up Xenodril in front of the boys, Maya rolled a few lame ideas around in her head before settling on one. “I’m worried about Genna.”

  “She’ll be okay.” Sarah patted her on the back.

  “Dad said she got beat up.” Emily didn’t look up from the two action figures she’d been making swordfight. “He said she’s gonna get better.”

  For an hour and change, Maya watched the others play with the toys, unsure what to do with herself. An occasional raised voice from outside made her look at the massive hole, though in the full light of day, the non-Citizen city area didn’t seem quite so bad. Primitive, but not as awful as the AuthNet archives made it sound. Her mood improved a bit―until a few distant gunshots preceded a howl of pain.

  The children got quiet for about two minutes before they resumed playing as though nothing had happened. Maya squinted into the humid breeze sweeping in from the gap. Her head filled with images of Icarus and Head falling. She trembled, gripped by fear. An odd realization dawned, something she’d never considered before: she had a mother she could run to for comfort. She started to stand, but remembered Genna lay in bed, out cold and unable to offer the solace she craved.

  Loud whirring from the breach in the wall stalled the breath in her throat. A pack of four-fanned Authority drones streaked by the opening, banking left and diving out of sight.

  Maya ducked her head, hiding her face behind a wall of hair. She shivered, terrified at the thought of being located and ‘rescued.’ The others didn’t react if they noticed her sudden terror. Sarah got into speaking lines from one of the stories with the twins, and they re-enacted some scene where little hamster men captured Pee Three Cee Oh. Pick got upset when Emily involved one of the robot-puzzle men and yelled that they weren’t from the same story. That error finally got him to look up enough for Maya to see his eyes for the first time, and missing front bottom teeth. The more his finger migrated from nostril to toy and back again, the less interested Maya got in touching any of them.

  “Ruben, ¡Almuerzo! Ven a casa ahora.” A female voice echoed off the walls outside.

  Pick sprang to his feet and ran close enough to the edge that Maya gasped. He cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, “¿Puedo traer mis amigos?”

  “Si.”

  “Ooh.” Anton scrambled upright, dropping the toys as if they’d become poisonous. “Pick’s sister cooks great food.”

  Marcus and Emily made noises of agreement and hurried upright. Sarah stood but didn’t follow the others who ran off. Maya looked up at her.

  “Hey.” Sarah spoke in a low voice. “I should probably tell you…”

  “What?”

  “Stay away from Mr. Mason downstairs. He’s dangerous. Emily doesn’t even like him, and she likes everyone.”

  “You said that already.” Maya took note of a trace of blush on the older girl’s pale cheeks, which hadn’t even happened when the girl described having all her clothes stolen.

  “He’s not home now.” Sarah headed for the hallway. “He goes to the Sanc in the day ‘cause he’s got a job, even though he’s the super. If Genna sends you to bring him the rent payment, don’t do it alone.”

  “Why?” asked Maya.

  Sarah’s cheeks tinted redder, and she turned away. “Just don’t.”

  They made their way back over the slimy carpet to the stairs and to the third floor. Pick’s sister Naida looked old enough to be his mother… if she had him at seventeen. She met them at the door, barefoot and in a pink babydoll sleeper that didn’t leave much of her slender figure to the imagination. Frayed denim shorts t
hreatened to slip to the ground with each step she took back inside. This place also had one bedroom, hot pink at the end of the hallway leading off from the living room.

  Naida escorted the kids to their places around the kitchen table and seemed happy to host them all for lunch. She chatted on and off while upending a metal can and squeezing yellow foam into a pot. Though it didn’t much resemble eggs at first, once it started to cook, it looked and smelled close enough. Based on how fast it went to plates, Maya assumed the ‘cooking’ part served mostly to make them warm, as well as to add whatever seasonings the woman threw in a pinch at a time.

  Maya smiled up at the young twenty-something as she set a plate of eggs and sausage down in front of her. “Thank you. It’s generous of you to feed everyone.”

  “Naida makes a lot of money,” said Marcus.

  Pick punched him in the arm.

  Marcus rubbed the spot, looking confused. “What? She does.”

  The woman looked embarrassed for a few seconds but brushed it off. She gave Maya’s shoulder a light squeeze. “Go on and eat. You’re too skinny.”

  Naida prepared lunch for everyone before sitting down with a plate for herself. Despite the eggs coming out of a can, they had more flavor than Maya expected. Pick seemed blasé to the meal, though the twins and Sarah attacked their food as if they hadn’t seen any in weeks. Naida smiled at everyone and fussed with Pick’s hair while she ate with the other hand. The first two times she reached for him, he ducked, but he tolerated her attention after that―though he refused to make eye contact with any of the other kids. The twins didn’t react to his being mothered, Sarah smiled at the display of affection, and Emily covered her mouth to suppress laughing at the faces Pick made.

  Maya lost a few seconds feeling jealous. A tiny inkling of desire to do something nasty to Pick to pay him back for having such a loving family reared up and died. I’m not Vanessa. Sarah reached over and held her hand under the table, offering a warm smile.

  A knock at the front door silenced the table.

  Naida looked up with a mixture of annoyance and resignation. At a second knock, she excused herself and went to the door.

  Maya leaned back in her chair, peering at a man standing out in the hall. They muttered a few words too low to hear before she muttered about a short wait and let him in. The face visible under the shrouded hood of his grey jacket/coat looked old enough to be Naida’s father. He offered a pleasant wave at the kitchen full of children and flopped on the couch in the living room. She flipped on the TV for him, then hurried back to the kitchen with her head down. Once everyone finished eating, Naida ushered the kids to the exit, apologizing, saying she had to clean up the apartment for someone important who was coming. She told Pick she loved him and made him promise to be careful. When she closed the door, he got a look on his face as though he wanted to get into a fight.

  Maya stared at the floor.

  Anton, seeming oblivious to Naida’s profession, clapped once. “Hey, let’s show Lisa the basement.”

  “I’ll be there in a little bit. Gotta make sure Dad eats,” said Sarah with an apologetic look to Maya. She lingered a few seconds more, and hurried off.

  The idea resonated among the group, and soon Maya found herself pulled along by Emily on one arm and Anton on the other. They had to use the main stairwell to get to the basement since the fire stairs stopped at the ground floor. Maya held her breath on the way down so her food didn’t come back up. Sarah had described it well: the entire stairwell reeked of spoiled milk. Waist-high trash collected in the landing at the bottom, mostly empty cardboard boxes, plastic cartons, and soda cans. Marcus waded up to the dark-blue door first and shoved it to the side.

  A room full of dusty junk, dangling wires, and eerie shapes covered in plastic sheeting made Maya lean back on her heels. The air here carried a dry smell tinged with something chemical, like a lesser cousin of rotten eggs. It didn’t seem like a great place to go. The other kids showed no fear of the creepy, abandoned basement and plowed right in. She hesitated in the doorway, battling between venturing into the darkness ahead or being alone in the ‘poor’ area. The worry of how many street drugs a designer nightdress would trade for got her moving. Granted, someone who stole the shirts off the backs of children for drug money would likely not recognize a Dori Kavan nightgown.

  Maya navigated a windy corridor formed of old washing machines, kitchen ranges, and other giant boxy cabinets that might’ve been refrigerators. Chairs, ceiling fans, and an assortment of smaller appliances had been stacked on top of them. Her feet turned grey from all the silt on the floor, though at least dry beat slimy.

  Beeping and digital explosions came from ahead.

  She emerged from the junk maze into an area covered in dark red and brown carpet. From the look of it, someone had used long rugs intended for the building’s halls to create a lounge. An enclosed area covered in several uneven layers of rug sat inside square walls of still-rolled carpet. Five ancient arcade games lined the left wall, one of which had Emily’s attention. Anton and Marcus occupied themselves with a physical game where they used plastic paddles to knock a flat disc around a white surface. On the far right, a huge table with a green interior held a number of balls as well as two long, tapered sticks. Feeling like she’d invaded someone else’s sanctuary, Maya stood at the entrance watching them play for some time without taking a step farther in.

  “You can go in.” Sarah startled her by coming out of nowhere at her left. “Zoe set this room up for us. She got all the games working. It’s nice, except when the heating machines come on and it gets loud… but it’s summer now so they won’t.”

  “Oh.” Maya looked from the twins to Pick, flopped on his chest inside the square on a pile of pillows, reading a thin book full of colorful pictures. Two massive cardboard boxes next to him had tons more. The corner of the carpet roll wall at his right held a bunch more plastic people, only these were about three times the height of the ones upstairs and most looked like the same too-skinny blonde woman in various outfits. Three resembled false babies, though nowhere near as realistic as the one in Lynn’s backpack. “Wow.”

  “There’s video games there, but I’m already kinda bored with all of them. The driving one’s the only one I still try, but it’s hard.” Sarah pointed at the twins. “Air hockey, and a pool table over there. Comic books there, but Pick will give you a hard time if you don’t wash your hands before touching them.”

  Pick made a raspberry noise.

  “There’s dolls too if you wanna play with them.” Sarah indicated the pile.

  Maya stared at them. “I don’t understand why people play with dolls.”

  “They’re fun to put different clothes on and make their hair.” Sarah pulled her over to them.

  Kinda like me. Standing on a platform while a throng of attendants dressed and redressed her, did makeup, and got her hair perfect for an ad shoot sure felt like being the doll. She flopped on the mound of spare couch cushions and watched Sarah demonstrate ‘playing with dolls.’ It didn’t pique much interest, though this whole having friends thing had gone from scary to might-be-fun. Maya tolerated the pointless plastic people to humor Sarah’s good mood.

  The rest of the afternoon went by in a blur. A few hours got sacrificed to video games, she tried playing pool but wound up either miscuing or hitting too weak to sink anything. Frustration got the better of her and she stormed away from the table. She did better at air hockey, though Anton still won three in a row. A bit of Vanessa came out and she refused to accept total defeat. Maya kept going for five more games, eventually winning by one point.

  Hours after they arrived in the basement, Pick led a migration out and they spent a while exploring the second floor where every apartment was abandoned. One, which had frightening marks on the walls the twins claimed to be blood, triggered nine different versions of ‘what happened’ stories, everything from an accident, argument, dosers fighting, and monsters. Emily told everyone how she had talk
ed to the faeries about the dead man’s ghost, and assured the others he wouldn’t bother them. When Emily said the faeries wouldn’t talk about how he died, Maya figured the girl had no real answers and made it up to help the others feel better, then felt stupid for almost believing the girl had talked to faeries. They spent several hours climbing through cabinets and holes in walls, before the twins wanted to go outside.

  Pick shook his head. “Nai said she heard people gonna fight when it got dark. I tol’ her promise I wouldn’t go out.” He reached across his chest to scratch his shoulder. “Not safe for kids outside now.”

  “I’m not allowed out today either,” said Emily.

  Anton’s disappointment faded in seconds. “Book’s gonna feed us tonight. It’s probably time to go up anyway.”

  “Is it ever?” asked Maya while they trudged up the stairs. “Safe, I mean.”

  “Not really,” said Sarah. “You should never go outside alone. We always go together. Most people won’t bother kids, but there’s bad ones too.”

  Maya looked down, making a game of not stepping on stains. “What’s scavving?”

  “We find stuff,” said Anton. “Sometimes we keep it. Sometimes we can sell it to Foz.”

  “He owns the Emperor,” said Emily.

  “Emporium.” Marcus gestured at the wall. “It’s a store outside, ‘bout two blocks down past the big blue car.”

  “Like stealing?” asked Maya.

  “Nope. It ain’t stealin’ if it’s just sittin’ there.” Marcus grabbed an aluminum can from the ninth floor landing and dropped it down the narrow space in the center of the stairwell, sending it rattling and clanking to the ground floor.

  “Sometimes Sarah steals a door.” Emily giggled.

  “How do you steal a door?” Maya looked up at the redhead.

  “She means I unlock it.” Sarah stuck her tongue out at Emily. “It’s not stealing if no one lives there.”

  They returned to the ninth floor, the large chamber with the missing wall. It had gotten dark out, though few stars managed to appear behind the smog. Intermittent pops echoed off the buildings, gunshots so far away they sounded fake. Maya hurried over to the sprawl of toys and sat on the floor, eager to get low in case of a stray bullet.