Heir Ascendant

by Matthew S. Cox

  Emily tilted her head at it. “Who stole her clothes?”

  Maya exchanged a knowing glance with Pick of all people, who seemed ashamed. Sarah kicked the magazine into the trash pile and herded the twins plus Emily upward. One of the twins hustled up ahead of everyone. Of the two, Marcus seemed more given to action and Anton more pensive. Marcus, she assumed, halted two and a half landings up, listening at the door leading to the fifth floor. Evidently hearing nothing frightening, he grinned, opened it and walked in.

  A steady breeze carried down the corridor from broken windows at either end. The boys proceeded to the first door on the left and entered an empty apartment. Maya stood in the middle of the main room while the others spread out and searched cabinets, closets, and interior rooms. In a back hallway, Sarah opened a panel and took several fuses, which she put in her hip bag. Pick returned from a distant bedroom with a knife in a battered army-green sheath. Emily pranced over showing off a curtain rod, which she tossed aside with a forlorn sigh when no one seemed impressed.

  A tickle caressed the outside edge of Maya’s left foot. She looked down at a roach too big to fit in her palm a second before it scurried up and over both of her feet. Maya jumped and danced about, trying to get away from the feeling that bugs crawled all over her. In her haste to back up, she stepped on another one, which burst under her heel like an armored packet of mayonnaise. Disgust paralyzed her. A moment later when she managed to open her eyes, she counted fourteen more at a quick glance. The urge to scream welled up, but she bit it back to a whimper thinking of Sarah’s warning. Without the fear of a room full of kidnappers, she wanted nothing to do with such disgusting creatures.

  Pick crawled out from the kitchen cupboards with a half dozen of the giant bugs on his back. He brushed them off and went for the fridge. Maya shivered and looked away. Two seconds after the rubber door gasket peeled open, he coughed and backed away, fanning at dust in the air. Anton staggered out of a side hallway looking ashen.

  “Don’t go in the back.” He waved his hand past his face a few times. “Whole lotta bad food in the closet.”

  “Who keeps food in a closet?” asked Sarah with a scrunched up face.

  Maya wiped her foot on a roach-free patch of rug while spinning in a constant circle to watch for any others getting close. Having bug guts touch her bare sole made her want to jump in a bathtub now. Sarah left the electrical panel open and walked over to put an arm around her. “You okay?”

  “Bugs,” said Maya in a tiny voice.

  “You’re such a girl,” said Pick. “They’re just roaches.”

  Emily glared for a second before pouncing on one of the foul things and grabbing it. She snuck up on Pick and stuffed the insect down his shorts from behind. He squealed and jumped around until it fell out.

  “Now who’s a girl?” Emily stuck her tongue out at him.

  Looking about as apt to cry from embarrassment as hit her, Pick grabbed a roach and stomped over. Emily folded her arms, clearly unimpressed as he put the insect on her head. She didn’t flinch or flick it away until he wandered off muttering.

  Maya forced herself to follow along as the crew went from apartment to apartment. By the sixth one, she managed not to feel like standing on a table or chair to get away from the bugs, though not every space had an infestation. Most of the rooms offered little in the way of anything interesting to take, so the searching didn’t consume much time. By the fourteenth apartment, Maya stopped standing around and joined in the scavenging. She found a box of four Hydra packets in a cabinet over a fridge, though an empty spot indicated the Hydra unit itself had been liberated already, perhaps the same one Foz now wanted a thousand NuCoin for. Maya rolled her eyes. The boy had to be exaggerating. Asking that much money for a Hydra from people who had to choose between shoes or food seemed ridiculous.

  Apartment fifteen had a locked door. The twins, Pick, and Emily gathered around it, casting expectant looks at Sarah.

  She bit her lip and muttered, “I dunno. Maybe we should get back before something happens. Dad had a feeling.”

  “Do it,” said Pick.

  “Do it,” said the twins in unison.

  Emily got down and tried to peek under the door. “I don’t see anyone moving.”

  Sarah sighed. “Fine.” She opened her hip bag and pulled out a small nylon case with a zipper around three sides. From it, she selected two thin metal tools and stuck them in the keyhole. “Everyone be quiet.”

  Such stillness settled over the hallway, the scratching of the implements seemed loud. The girl wiggled one while trying to twist the other one around like a wrench. A little while later, Sarah turned the knob and pushed the door open an inch. The twins went in first. Pick waved the sheathed knife over his head and mumbled a pirate’s “arrrr” before following.

  Maya looked from the hip bag to Sarah’s face. “Where’d you learn that?”

  Sarah put the tools away. “My dad. He’s strange. The last time he bought me clothes, he went a week or two without beer and decided I needed to learn how to pick locks. A couple months ago, he showed me how to clean and cook rats. Couple months before that, how to escape if ‘the Koreans’ captured me.”

  “Eww.” Maya shivered. “You ate a rat?”

  “It wasn’t bad.”

  “Eww!”

  Sarah shrugged. “If you didn’t have anything else, you’d eventually get hungry enough to eat it.” She gathered Maya with an arm around the back and ushered her inside before prodding the door closed with a foot. “We’re easy to spot in hallways, better to stay inside.”

  Maya headed for the kitchen while Sarah roamed in search of the fuse panel. The boys sat crowded around the coffee table, devouring still-edible Chinese food they scooped out of white cartons with their hands. Maya halted, staring at the recent-looking containers, dead beer cans, and the stink of an unflushed toilet. Someone lives here. Before dread eased its grip on her throat to let words of protest out, the boys finished their hurried feast and zipped about, tearing through cabinets, drawers, and closets.

  Maya ran to where Sarah extracted circuit breakers and pulled at her arm. “Someone’s staying here. We have to leave.”

  Sarah nodded. “Okay, won’t be long.”

  “No I mean we’re stealing from someone’s home.”

  “Oh.” Sarah hesitated, sighed, and pushed the breaker box closed.

  The twins discovered a few gadgets. Old personal electronics from the look of it, a media player and two flashlights. Emily stomped triumphant out of the secondary bedroom with a scuffed laptop computer held over her head. All were disappointed when it wouldn’t turn on, and lost interest until Emily suggested her mother might be able to fix it.

  Maya bounced on the balls of her feet. “We need to get out of―”

  Thump.

  Everyone froze and faced the door. More banging in the hallway grew louder, accompanied by a man attempting to scream despite something covering his mouth. Sarah grabbed Maya and darted to the kitchen, ducking around the wall separating it from the living room. She huddled on the floor, pulling Maya down next to her. A key rattled in the knob. The others scampered in. Pick went straight for the cabinets under the sink, as did the twins and Emily. A nervous whine leaked out of Sarah’s nose for a second while indecision radiated from her eyes. She seemed to change her mind that the kitchen wall would make enough of a hiding spot and started to shove Maya toward the cabinets, but yanked her back not a second before the apartment door slammed open.

  Sarah scooted to the right, away from the opening between kitchen and living room, butt on the floor. Maya tucked up to her side, unable to tell if the terrified redhead clung to her protectively or if it worked the other way around.

  “You fucked up, Dave. I gave you another chance, and you fucked it up,” said a raspy male voice.

  A meaty smack preceded the floor-shaking thud of a body crashing down.

  Two different men chuckled. The mmmm-ing of a desperate man grew louder.

/>   Sarah stared wide-eyed at Maya and held a finger to her lips in a gesture of ‘shh!’

  “Either you’re an idiot, or you did it on purpose,” said the first voice. Boot steps thumped around in a lazy orbit. “Which is it, Dave, eh? Whimper once for idiot and twice for on purpose.”

  One whimper.

  “Jackass,” said a deeper voice.

  Maya twitched at the thump of a foot slamming into a gut with a subsequent muffled “oof.” Silent tears streamed down Sarah’s cheeks. The sight got Maya trembling. If these guys found them, they’d do a lot worse than steal their clothes.

  “How am I supposed to trust you to make this right?” asked Raspy. Whump.

  Dave mumbled incomprehensibly between moans of pain.

  For a few seconds, it seemed men took turns kicking and hitting Dave. Pick peeked out of his cabinet door, staring at the open archway between kitchen and the other room. He glanced at the girls and held up three fingers followed by a finger gun, then three more fingers before ducking out of sight.

  Sarah looked down at Maya as if she really wanted to speak but couldn’t force herself to. When the thumps and pops of a beating stopped, her hug crushed all the air out of Maya’s lungs.

  “What’s that, Dave? I didn’t catch that?”

  Dave emitted a wounded moan.

  “Need that again a little louder,” said Raspy, along with the rattle of metal.

  Dave emitted a terrified scream from his nose, and the thumping of a struggling tied-up body rumbled the linoleum under Maya.

  “Good night, Dave.”

  Sarah’s foot slipped forward an inch as she trembled; her toe hit an empty piece of pistol brass, sending it rolling across the floor. She cringed at the noise.

  Dave emitted a long, muffled scream.

  “What was that?” asked the deep voice. “Fink I heard somethin’ in the kitchen.”

  “Rats,” said Raspy. “Where do you want it, Dave? Head or chest? Whimper once for head.”

  The gagged man moaned in a pleading tone, likely begging for another chance.

  Maya held her breath. Her heart pounded in her head.

  “Hold up,” said the deep voice, sounding far too close. “I smell…”

  Dave’s screaming subsided to sobs.

  A head with dark violet color airbrushed across the eyes hovered in the doorway, quite far up off the floor. Its owner leaned farther in, a black leather coat over a bare chest marked by copious scars and a tattoo of a grinning horned skull over his sternum.

  “Whatcha got?” asked the raspy man.

  The tall thug stepped all the way into the kitchen and set his hands on his hips by a pair of pistols. A heavy, blood-caked chain hung along the length of his left leg atop jeans covered in marker-drawn images of stylized words, more skulls, knives, and other unidentifiable squiggles.

  “Couple of little girls,” said the tall man. “Thought I smelled kid.”

  “Juicy,” said a new voice.

  The tall one stared at Sarah, who hunched over Maya, trying to hide her. After a moment, he glanced into the living room. “Naw, ya sick fucker. Too little. Actual kids. Ain’t ripe yet.”

  Maya couldn’t breathe. She threaded her arms around Sarah and held on.

  “We d-din’t hear n-nothin’.” Sarah leaned back. “P-please don’t k-kill us.”

  Another man in a similar jacket but with a dark shirt on under it walked in. He had short black hair in an array of spikes and kept a handgun pointed into the living room. “For fuck’s sake, man. Get rid of ‘em.” He moved out of sight with an annoyed head shake.

  Maya stared at his hands, committing herself to take off at a sprint as soon as he twitched and went for a gun.

  “G’won. Get outta here,” said the tall man, pointing.

  Sarah glanced at the cabinets and forced herself upright. “R-really?”

  “Yeah. Skeleton Crew don’t kill kids… ‘less you pointin’ guns at us.”

  “Uhh,” said Raspy. “Only problem I got wit’ shooting kids is tryin’ to hit ‘em when they’re runnin’ sideways. I hate small targets.”

  Sarah made a gurgling noise while the other men laughed.

  “Come on, come on,” yelled Raspy. “Dave here ain’t getting any deader. I can’t get it up with goddamned kids in the next room.”

  Dave wailed and moaned.

  Maya pushed Sarah forward. “Go. He’s just trying to scare us.”

  Sarah reached behind her and took Maya’s hand. The big man backed out of the door, forming a living wall between them and a squirming man nearly mummified in duct tape on the floor. Maya looked away before his face came into view. Sarah emitted a faint squeal when the tall man put his hand on her back, but he only urged them out into the hall and closed the door.

  “Shit.” Sarah fell to her knees. “I-I d-don’t believe it.”

  Maya glanced at the door, sucked in a breath, and knocked.

  “What?” screamed the younger sounding guy. “You two little bitches have a freakin’ death wish?”

  A man with maraschino-red hair whipped the door open. He blinked at Maya and spoke in the raspy voice. “Damn, this one’s tiny. Probably take five or six tries to hit her on the run.”

  “I’m sorry for interrupting your shooting Dave in the head,” said Maya, “but I left something in the kitchen. Can I please get it?”

  The Skeleton Crew gawked at her for a few seconds in silence before erupting in laughter, and the tall one with the purple band across his eyes waved her in.

  “You got a pair, kid.” The guy with too-red hair motioned his pistol at the kitchen. “Sure.” He kicked Dave in the face, putting an end to the muffled screaming.

  Maya didn’t look at anything but her feet as she scurried into the kitchen and crouched by the cabinets. “You really don’t want to be in there when what’s about to happen in the other room happens.”

  Marcus pushed the door open and climbed out, pulling Emily along behind him. Pick and Anton waited another three seconds before following. Maya marched back out to the door, again without a look to the side.

  “God dammit.” Cherry Red braced the side of his head with his gun hand. “Where the shit did all these rugrats come from?”

  “That little bastard in the camo shorts looks quick.” The young ganger pulled his gun and winked.

  Pick screamed and took off at a sprint. Maya shrieked and tripped over herself on the way out the door, falling into Sarah’s arms. The older girl grabbed her by the wrist, and they ran as fast as they could to the stairway door all the way at the end. Emily brought up the rear, lugging the laptop. They stopped running three blocks later in an alley. Even there, the crack of a gunshot from the fifth floor apartment reached them.

  Anton and Marcus stared down. Maya gulped. Sarah looked about ready to pass out. Emily’s expression could’ve been contemplative or bored. Pick fell on all fours and made gagging noises amid coughs. He stopped short of throwing up, but remained bent forward for a minute or two, breathing hard, before he sat back on his heels and wiped his mouth on his forearm. Emily set the laptop on the ground and sat on it.

  “Damn,” said Marcus. “Faerie’s ol’ man got some skills.”

  “Yeah. Truth.” Anton leaned forward, hands on his knees, and gasped for air.

  “I had you wrong.” Marcus patted Maya on the shoulder. “Thought you was a fluffy bit, but you got some balls.”

  Sarah wheezed, breathless. “I can’t believe you did that.”

  Maya tried not to think about Dave. “I couldn’t leave you guys in there when they were gonna shoot someone.”

  “Sorry.” Sarah sank to a seat on the pavement. “I didn’t know what they were gonna do. Didn’t wanna give the others away in case they hurt us.”

  Pick jammed his finger up his nose.

  “Can we go home now?” asked Emily. “I’m hungry an’ I’m scared.”

  “Good idea,” said Anton.

  “Yes.” Sarah jumped up.

  Marcu
s glanced at Emily. “Wow, those guys let you take that thing.”

  “It didn’t turn on,” said Maya. “They probably thought it’s junk.”

  “It is junk.” Marcus frowned.

  Pick gathered saliva in his throat and spat a giant wad to the side. “Shortcut.”

  Before anyone could protest, he ran off.

  “Pick!” Sarah’s nerves tamped her intended shout down to a normal speaking volume. She let off an exasperated sigh, grabbed Maya’s hand, and rushed after him. “Ruben!”

  The twins and Emily ran behind them. At the end of the alley, Pick zipped around the left corner. They chased him down two more alleys and through a parking lot with about fourteen dead cars. He seemed to be cutting as diagonal a line as possible across the city blocks, using alleys and open doors whenever he could.

  The group ducked into the ground floor of a different building, which led them to the street on the other side. They dodged a group of begging vagrants, ran two blocks, and came to a halt at the edge of a courtyard in the hollow of a C-shaped building where two four-story wings sprouted like hugging arms from a nine-story tower. Pick had stopped at the base of a broken statue in the middle, poking a crashed Authority drone with his foot. His toes left dust prints on the dark blue hull, but the machine didn’t react.

  “Pick!” Sarah whisper shouted. “Get away from that right now.”

  He ignored her.

  She let go of Maya’s arm and stormed up to him. Curiosity overwhelmed the twins and they hurried over with Maya jogging along behind them. Emily waited alone, clutching the laptop by the brick wall at the courtyard’s mouth for five seconds before darting in with a fearful glance at something down the street.

  On the ground, the killing machine was larger than Maya expected, not quite the size of a compact car. The crash had mangled its front-left fan shroud to an unrecognizable tangle of metal. Small silver streaks appeared over the dark blue central body where paint had scratched off. The generally aerodynamic shape reminded her of a giant motorcycle without any wheels, windscreen, or handlebars.