Maya sniveled into her fingers, not wanting to look down again and see those horrible, lifeless eyes gazing back at her. The flashlight painted a stretched oval of light before her knees in which dust motes cavorted and shimmered. That thing might be looking at her still. It rested only a few feet below. If it reached up it could…
“Maya?” yelled Pope. “Are you okay?”
“No,” she whispered.
“Maya?” A heavy thump from the door startled a yelp out of her. “Can you open the door?”
She grasped the flashlight and twisted around to point it at the exit. The table wobbled. Maya let off an uneasy whine, terrified it might collapse and dump her on top of a dead body. She braced her hands and shifted her weight from her knees to her toes. The more her perch shimmied back and forth, the louder her whining became. As if one tiny misstep would set off a nuclear bomb, she eased herself upright.
Pope’s banging on the door faded away from the forefront of her awareness as she stared down the length of the flashlight beam at the far wall. Her breath echoed in her head. She lowered the spot of light to the floor in search of a patch without a stain. It seemed whatever had leaked from the corpse migrated the same way, implying the ground wasn’t level. She crept to the edge, away from the door, closer to where clean space waited.
Five baby steps later, her foot came within three inches of the corner. She tried to think of a way to get down off the table without any chance of touching dead man. If she jumped, the table would go flying. If she tried to climb down, she might touch him.
If―
The leg collapsed… or did the dead man knock it over?
Maya shrieked at the top of her lungs as the table dumped her. She hit the floor and flung herself forward into a somersault before crawling in a blind panic against the innermost corner between the toilet and the bed, where she cowered. The flashlight wound up near the middle of the chamber, directing its beam at a twisted black-purple claw of a hand poking out from behind the upended card table.
“Maya!” Pope whomped on the armored plate. “What just happened?”
She bolted from her hiding place and ran to the door, pulling and twisting at the wheel. When it rattled without moving much, locked in place, she screamed. Why did she do this? This was such a bad idea. Why did she untie the rope? Now she would die in here.
“Let me out!” She pounded on the door. “Help!”
“I’m right outside. You’re not in any danger. Forget everything but the door. Breathe in and out. Don’t think about anything else.”
Maya stared at the wheel, rapid breaths racing in and out her nose. Her heart thudded in her head. She covered her mouth and nose with both hands and closed her eyes. Calm down. Think. Don’t panic. A momentary daydream of being reunited with Genna eased her fear, but replaced it with grief. She forced herself to turn around and walk back to the flashlight, staring only at the yellow plastic object―not what it illuminated.
As soon as she grabbed it, she sprinted to the door and studied the mechanism. A small hooked latch caught the teeth of a gear. Two whacks with the flashlight broke the grime and let her open the latch, unlocking it, but she still couldn’t budge the wheel. She grabbed one of the spars connecting the wheel to the center and pulled herself up off her feet. Even with all her weight bouncing on it, it wouldn’t turn.
“It’s stuck.”
The wheel rattled side to side from his attempt to turn it, but it refused to move. He tapped on a small hatch at eye-level to an adult. Maya dragged one of the chairs over, climbed up, and flipped the metal flap up. Pope stuck a small spray can in and dropped it.
“Use that on any part that should move.”
The spray lubricant stank, but she held her breath and applied a liberal spread until she couldn’t find anywhere else to add more. “Okay.”
Pope struggled with the wheel again. He grunted, and after a few loud bangs, the mechanism broke free of the crud and spun. He whirled it about with ease, retracting the horizontal slats, and the door gave way. She jumped down off the chair and pulled it back. Pope stepped in and swept her up in his arms.
Maya held on and sniffled. He wasn’t Genna, but he’d do in a pinch.
With her attached to his side, he searched around the place for a few minutes, fiddled with a switch on the wall, and examined wires running back and forth across the ceiling. One of the shelves held hundreds of Hydra packs as well as the machine itself. He opened an electrical panel and flicked switches one after the next.
“Is the food good? Can we eat?”
“Ration packs look intact, but there’s no juice here. Bet the wire’s been cut somewhere… I think I know where the solar panels are. Found them a while back, wondered what they went to. Probably take a couple days to get things online.” He set her down on the bed and went over to the body.
Maya rolled away and curled up, having less than zero interest in watching that. Rummaging noises continued for several minutes. She cringed and flinched with every squish and crinkle. Eventually, the jingle of keys preceded a triumphant grunt from Pope.
“I’m going to move this poor bastard. Take him topside and give him a proper grave. Be right back.”
“Okay.” She closed her eyes even harder.
Amid the total silence of the underground room, Maya imagined an angry ghost staring at her. She couldn’t bring herself to look, terrified of what he’d do if she made eye contact, and shivered in silence. Her nightdress had finally dried out, but she couldn’t get comfortable.
Some time later, Pope returned―without the corpse. She sat up as he attacked the padlock.
“Reckon you don’t want to sit around here for three days waitin’ on a meal.”
“They might kill her. I can’t wait.” With the flashlight back in the room, enough ambient radiance existed to confirm the body as gone. She couldn’t help but stare at the patch of floor where he’d been.
“All right. Wait here a moment while I make sure this key works.”
“‘Kay.”
Pope walked outside and closed the door. The wheel spun, sealing the chamber again. Metal rattled, and the little locking hook flipped over and grabbed the gears. He tested the wheel to verify it had locked, then opened it.
Maya ran to him.
He re-locked the door, stashed the key in his satchel, and picked her up. She held on while he carried her down tunnel after tunnel, up a ladder, and walked along a dry length of concrete piping. Water fell in drops and trickles around them, though he weaved among them without letting any touch her.
Soon, he patted her on the back to get her attention and put her down once she let go. She looked up at him and followed his gesture to a ladder leading to a round metal disc. Maya took a step back to give him room. He climbed to the top and pushed the cover aside, flooding the tunnel with heavy metallic scraping. She pulled herself up, taking one rung at a time. When she reached the end, he grabbed her by one arm and lifted her out of the hole like a caught fish before setting her down in dead grass next to a rectangular white concrete slab a few inches higher than the dirt.
“The Spread is that way. Take us about two hours to walk.” He worked the metal cover plate back over the hole. “We’re going to pass close to the highway. If you hear any noises you don’t recognize or don’t expect, drop flat where you are and don’t move. The human eye goes to motion. It’s better to sit still in an open field than run to a bush.”
“Okay.”
“There’s tall grass; little critter like you can disappear.” He winked and pulled the sniper rifle off his back.
He set off at a brisk walk, but slowed when it seemed she had to exert herself to keep up. Soon, a mixture of dead brown and live green wild grass tickled her legs and came up to her shoulders in places. The whirr of drones got louder over the course of fifteen or twenty minutes, and eventually, the glow of flying lights became apparent to the right. Not long after that, the black highway surface emerged at the center of a trail the authority
had burned through the field. About twenty yards of bare ground flanked the road, offering little potential cover for anyone trying to set up an ambush for travelers.
When a rumble vibrated the earth, Maya stared down at her feet for a split second, and flopped on her belly. Pope eased himself to one knee and flattened out on his chest, rifle trained in the general direction of the road. The lens caps opened automatically when he touched the trigger, and he leaned his eye over the scope.
“One Authority transport,” he whispered. “Looks like they’re heading for the Hab District.”
She crawled up alongside him, though couldn’t see anything but grass. “One?”
“Probably taking a detainee back to the shithole.”
Maya gasped. She started to feel like bursting into tears at a grand waste of time, but if that truck carried Genna home, she wouldn’t care. She trembled with anticipation until the whirring electric motors changed pitch downward.
“Stay still. They’re stopping. That’s real weird.”
She gulped air.
“There’s a civilian car coming in from the south.” Pope shifted, pointing the rifle more to his right. “One man inside. Figure him early twenties maybe. Short blond hair.”
A terrifying noise became apparent in the distance. It sounded like the straining e-motors of Mr. Mason’s car. No way did they let him go. Not after finding those addresses. Worry at what he’d do to Sarah or Emily made rat meat dance in her gut. Then again, all e-cars sounded the same.
The car stopped with a faint squeak of brakes about fifteen yards from the huge blue six-wheeled Authority van.
She couldn’t take the suspense anymore, and pulled her legs up to kneel. Inch by inch, she perked higher until she could see over the tips of the grass. Sure enough, it was Mason’s car, but not Mason driving it. Brian got out and shoved the door closed. He looked annoyed―not the sort of attitude anyone without a death wish projected when approaching two blueberries.
“We already told you, pal, the info was bogus.” The shorter Authority officer pointed at Brian.
“I know how you people work.” Brian put his hands on his hips. “That kid vanished. You fuckers snuck in when everyone was sleeping and took her back to her mother. I need that reward since I found her.”
Maya’s jaw dropped. She started to jump up, but Pope grabbed her and clamped a hand over her mouth. She stared at Brian, trying to give him brain cancer with her eyes.
You asshole!
ast the wavering tips of pale brown wild grass, Maya glared at the man responsible for Genna being taken away from her. Angry tears streamed out of her eyes. She struggled to get away from Pope, his hand over her mouth holding back a furious barrage of shouted curses. Patient and calm, he kept her still and―relatively―quiet.
“There’s no reward for Maya Oman because the girl is not missing,” said the Authority officer.
“Oh, fuck. Of course not. You bastards already got her.” Brian scowled.
“No. The child you identified was not a match,” said the second officer. “While I’ll give it to you that she looked a lot like her, it wasn’t her.”
“Yeah.” The taller officer chuckled. “The kid’s a tiny version of her mother. If that was her, she’d have been trying to order us around, calling us lazy, worthless, that sort of thing.”
“Yep.” Officer Two shook his head. “That girl kept her head down and behaved herself like any other Non. Besides, if the daughter of Vanessa Oman was missing, don’t you think there’d be dozens of us tearing the Hab apart building by building?”
Brian grumbled. “So that’s it then? There’s nothing? What about that other guy you nabbed? Any reward for him?”
“We can’t discuss it. If an informant had been involved, and I’m not saying there was, it would be on them to contact us about any possible reward once criminality was confirmed on the part of the detainee.”
Brian wiped both hands down his face and sighed. “Shit.”
“Have a pleasant day, Mr. Harper.”
The blueberries sauntered back to their APC and climbed in. Maya writhed and squirmed, grabbing fistfuls of grass between gesturing and pointing at Brian.
“Mmm! Mmmmmm!” She clutched at Pope’s wrist and futilely tried to pull his hand away from her mouth. “Mmm!”
Brian walked backwards until his ass hit the little beige e-car. He leaned/sat on the hood, rubbing the bridge of his nose. The Authority transport reversed around in a K-turn and lumbered off in the direction of the Sanctuary Zone. Snot flew from Maya’s nostrils, launched into the grass from hard breaths with her mouth covered. When the rumble of the Authority van’s existence faded from the air, Pope let go of her.
“You asshole!” yelled Maya. She sprang up to a sprint and darted onto the road, pointing at Brian. “You killed Genna!”
She rushed him, landing two or three punches in the approximate area of his groin before he got his hands on her arms and held her at bay. A pair of four-fanned Authority drones glided abreast about twenty feet above, though neither paid them much mind.
“You lying piece of shit!” She tried to kick him while screaming a series of random swear words. “Why? Why did you sell us out? They’re gonna kill her.”
Brian hoisted her into the air by the arms, his expression of confusion tinged with exasperation. His gaze drifted left to Pope emerging from the weeds. “Uhh.” He put her down, weathered a few more feeble punches, and grabbed her by the wrists again. “Stop.”
“I hate you!” She twisted and jerked on her arms, trying to get away. “Get offa me, you piece of shit! You killed my mom…” The fight melted out of her. She sank to her knees and sobbed.
Brian let go of her arms, gaze locked on Pope’s rifle. “I didn’t have a choice. We’re having a baby any day now. I… thought you were kidnapped. Thought I was doing something good for a kid. I had no damn idea they’d take Genna.”
“Don’t!” shrieked Maya. “You’re not allowed to even say her name.” She continued bawling.
Pope walked up behind her.
“I had no idea… I thought you’d be sent home where you’d be safe and happy and we’d have enough money to give my baby a decent shot at not turning out as a piece of gang trash.” Brian bowed his head, scratching at his nose. “That reward was a lifeline I couldn’t resist.”
Maya cried into her hands for another few minutes. “What if they kill her?”
“I’m sorry.” Brian stared at the street, raking a hand over his hair. “I never even imagined they’d go after her. I figured they’d come in, rescue you, and leave. Why would they care about her anyway?”
“You want this guy dead?” asked Pope.
Brian coughed.
She lifted her head and peered up at him. Vanessa’s haughty laugh danced across the back of her mind. Maya could kill a man with one word right now. One yes, and no more Brian. Vanessa would do it without a second thought. She’d ordered death for less. Her gut twisted up in a knot at the worry the Authority had executed Genna. It tightened harder at imagining Arlene’s reaction to the news Brian had been found dead and their kid would never know a father. She clenched her hands into trembling fists and glared at him.
Brian stared at the street. “I’m sorry.”
“No. I don’t want him dead.” Maya looked down. A second later, an explosion of rage leapt out of her heart and raced down her arm to her fist, which she pounded square into his groin.
Brian wheezed, grabbed himself, and slid off the car hood to his right. He curled up on the road, moaning.
“Vanessa would kill him. I’m not her.” Maya scowled. “It’s not his baby’s fault. Does Arlene know what you did?”
“No,” squeaked Brian. He took a few quick gasps of air and found a normal voice. “Thank you.”
Maya stepped closer to him. “Don’t thank me yet. If Genna’s dead… I’m… gonna do something mean to you.”
Brian emitted a high-pitched whine.
“Small fists hurt,
don’t they?” Pope chuckled. “Sooner or later, you’ll figure out the Authority ain’t to be trusted. They do whatever they want on account o’ no one stands up to them.”
“I thought it was Mr. Mason who called them.” Maya lifted and dropped her toes a few times. She didn’t feel too bad over setting him up. He still deserved it for what he did to Sarah, plus none of the kids in the building (or near it) would’ve been safe with him around. “I’m going to tell Genna it was you. She’s probably going to kick your ass.”
Brian cringed, but nodded. He dragged himself upright and moved around the car with one hand braced on it as he limped.
Maya glanced up at Pope as the little car pulled a U-turn and sped away. “We should get off the road before the next drone comes by.”
“Yeah. They’d probably give me a hard time over this rifle.” He hurried back into the weeds.
She ran after him. “I don’t think they’d be too polite.”
“Probably right.” Pope winked at her.
Her rollercoaster of anger and grief leveled off in a few minutes. She wiped her eyes and nose, then looked up at him. “I thought he was nice. He seemed friendly.”
Pope shook his head. “Out here, it’s everyone for themselves. Hell, even in that fancy city it’s the same way. Only difference is they shoot each other in the back with politics or legal bullshit.”
“Boo-shee,” muttered Maya, thinking of Sarah’s father.
Silence save for the rustling of grass gave way to the distant whine of drone fans about fifteen minutes later. Pope steered her farther west, away from the highway and out of easy sight. They stopped once for a pee break and continued on their way until the sun went down a little more than an hour later. With the sun waning, towers of stacked shipping containers bathed in electric lights glowed prominent against the indigo sky up ahead.
The Spread resembled a massive scrapyard run by someone obsessive about order but too lazy to clean anything. A grid of passageways crisscrossed among piles of junk, old airplanes, and hundreds of clusters of trans-oceanic shipping containers. Some still sat on frame trailers that converted them from boat boxes to trucks, though the majority had been there so long they’d been built up to permanent structures with awnings, flowerpots, lawn chairs around grills, even small gardens.
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