The Rebel

by Gerald Brandt

  Manfred’s head spun, moving his body with it. His fingers loosened and released their grip on her shirt. He ended up on his hands and knees, blood dripping off the tip of his nose from his split cheek. Janice reeled away as he swept out his leg. He hit just above her ankles, kicking her legs out from under her. She fell forward, throwing out her arms to break her fall. Her right arm twisted, her hand gripping the butt of her stun gun.

  He was on her before she had time to move, jumping on her back, driving his knees into her kidneys and the air from her lungs. His hands wrapped around her neck, and he leaned in to whisper in her ear.

  “I knew this was a bad idea. Maybe that’s why they told me I could kill you if you fucked up.”

  Janice’s vision blurred as the blood flow to her brain was squeezed shut. She arched her back and rolled, bringing her elbow up. The blow wasn’t hard, but it was enough. Manfred fell off her.

  She rolled onto her back, grabbing her stun gun from her pocket as she did the move. Manfred pushed to his feet at the same time she did. His eye was swollen shut.

  She surged toward him, aiming for his blind side. The stun gun drove forward, hitting the first piece of exposed skin she could find. The tip of the gun slid off his cheek, driving into his swollen eye with enough force to sink in. She pulled the trigger and held it there until Manfred’s body convulsed away and fell in a mound on the ground.

  She stood over him, panting as he continued to twitch while the lingering charge slowly drained from his body. It wasn’t enough for her. Kicking him onto his back, she leaned down and pressed the gun into the center of his chest. She held the trigger until there was nothing left in the device.

  Janice walked away from his still form, away from the main street to somewhere a bit quieter. She’d fucked up really bad. She’d let her anger take control. If SoCal found out what she had done . . .

  She saw Kris on the street, the old lady leading, and followed them, Manfred almost forgotten.

  LOS ANGELES LEVEL 2—THURSDAY, JULY 6, 2141 12:49 P.M.

  Despite the smell, my aunt helped me out of the garbage-strewn alley. I limped a bit, but the dull ache in my thigh diminished with every step I took. She turned toward the main street of Chinatown. We were almost at the corner before I stopped her. I didn’t want to be out amongst the people I had worked with. Not looking and smelling like this. I didn’t want to be seen by Janice either.

  “Can we go down a quieter street?”

  She took one look at me and nodded, leading me in the other direction to a parallel street. How had this woman, frail beyond her years, someone I had hated for too long to keep track of, become someone I was relying on? How had she become someone I could rely on?

  Despite how I felt, I kept a vigilant look out for Janice and her friend. The last thing I wanted to do was get into a fight. After training with her, I was pretty sure I would win, but it would be a tough battle. Throw in her companion and having my aunt there would make it more difficult. Who was I fooling? It would be impossible. If Janice used my aunt—and I knew she would—what would I do? I wasn’t sure.

  When we finally made it through Chinatown and into the nondescript area just outside, I relaxed a little. Ten blocks with no sight of her, farther from the kitchens and even farther away from the insurgents, was a good place to be.

  “How long?” I asked.

  “Another hour or so. You’ll have to slow down. I can’t walk as fast as I used to.”

  I was going slow. My thigh still hurt and I’d slowed down for her. “Let’s stop for a second.”

  She breathed a sigh of relief and lowered herself to the curb. I sat beside her until I got a fresh waft from my clothes. I stood and moved a bit away.

  “You wouldn’t happen to have some extra clothes, would you?” I asked.

  “Nothing you’d like, or would fit. I have a dress I can’t wear anymore. I could take it in a bit.”

  I grimaced.

  “It would be better than what you’re wearing. I did some laundry yesterday, so I won’t have enough water for another couple of weeks.” She gave a quiet little laugh. “I’m not sure I’d have enough water or detergent to get rid of that smell anyway. It’s horrible.”

  “It is, isn’t it?” I started laughing with her. The tension of the last few days flowed out. Without warning, my laughter turned to tears. I swiped at my eyes.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s nothing I can talk about.” The look on her face was one of pure hurt. “I’m sorry, it’s just . . .”

  “No. It’s all right. I . . . I’m not in any position to have earned your trust. I understand. It’s okay.” She stood and faced away from Chinatown, turning her back on me. “Should we continue?”

  I hesitated before answering. “Sure.”

  We finished the rest of the walk in silence. Alone, I could have done it in half the time. When we finally got there, she was breathing hard.

  Her apartment was on the bottom floor of an old building. It looked like someone had tried to keep it up long ago, but now filth and cobwebs clung to the corners. A light came on in the foyer when we walked in and cockroaches scurried away, trying to find safety in the shadows. I’d seen worse, but this was pretty bad.

  Auntie must have seen the distaste on my face.

  “It’s the best I can afford.”

  “But your place on Level 1 was better than this.”

  “It had its own problems. And it was Level 1. I would live in worse than this to be out of that hellhole. To be rid of the memories.”

  She shuffled down the hall, unlocking a door at the end with a key hung around her neck. When I walked in, it was like a different world. The walls were clean and the floor uncluttered. Along the edges of the walls were roach traps.

  “It helps, but it’s not perfect.”

  “Your place is great.”

  “Thanks. The bathroom is down there. I’ll get a bag for your clothes. You’ll find a housecoat behind the door, until we can get you fitted into the dress.”

  I grimaced again.

  “It’s all I have to offer.”

  “It’ll be great, thanks.” I hated dresses. I always had. Dresses made me look like a girl, and a girl was a target on the streets I’d lived in. I’d switch it out as soon as I could.

  “Use as much of the water and soap as you need, please.”

  I smiled as I closed the door to the bathroom. There was a lock on it, an improvement from when I had lived with her—with them—on Level 1. I stripped out of my pants and shirt and socks, holding them in my hands until the bag came. Auntie knocked on the door and slipped the bag through to me. Once the clothes were sealed and outside the bathroom, the smell got better. I washed up as best I could without using all the water and walked out wearing a frilly pink housecoat that swept the floor.

  “Feeling better?”

  “Much, thank you.”

  “This is the dress.” She held up a plain navy blue shift. It was obviously too big for me, dragging on the floor and billowing at the waist. “Let’s get some measurements and I’ll see what I can do.”

  I hesitated.

  “If you have nothing on under the robe, you can wear one of my shirts before I measure. If you’re not, there is nothing to be afraid of.” She paused, making eye contact with me. “There’s no one here to hurt you. Not this time.”

  No one ever would. I’d learned how to take care of myself. It wasn’t the only reason I hesitated though . . . I was pregnant. I slipped the robe off my shoulders and shivered in the sudden cold.

  “I’ll be quick.”

  Auntie took her measurements, not saying anything if she noticed my bump. She hadn’t seen me for a long time, so maybe she thought this was the way I was.

  “You can put the robe back on.”

  I put it on and retreated to a couch in the corner
. Auntie stayed by the kitchen table humming happily to herself. I’d never seen this side of her. When I’d lived with them, she’d always been going off to work or cleaning or shopping. In hindsight, she’d probably kept that busy just to stay away from her husband. She had been a bitter woman back then.

  I woke up when a shadow fell across my face, jumping to my feet and almost knocking Auntie over, not realizing I’d fallen asleep. I apologized and stood there like an idiot. She handed me the dress.

  “I took one of my old shirts and sewed it in as a liner. It should keep you warmer. I kept it a bit loose-fitting as well. I didn’t think you would mind.”

  “No . . . I . . . thanks.” I took the dress. The stitches, all hand sewn, were perfect. “How long was I asleep?”

  “It looked like you needed it.”

  “How long?”

  “Most of the afternoon.”

  I went to the bathroom and dropped the robe, replacing it on the hook by the door. The dress slipped easily over my head. The shoulder straps had been shortened, so most of me was covered. It still showed my shape despite the loose fit. Too much. The dress let me move, but I still felt exposed.

  I walked out of the bathroom, heat rising in my cheeks.

  “There! Almost perfect. I could take in the sides a bit more—”

  “No. No, thank you. It’ll be fine.”

  “Until you find some pants.”

  I grinned. “Until I find some pants. I’m sorry for taking you away from the kitchens. We could still get some food. I know some people.”

  “I have a little left in my freezer. I try to take some home every day, just in case I can’t make it one time. I’ll thaw out a couple of plates.”

  I sat back on the couch in my dress, trying to remember to keep my knees together, and watched my aunt prepare us supper.

  LOS ANGELES LEVEL 2—THURSDAY, JULY 6, 2141 4:57 P.M.

  It took a while to get dinner ready. We sat at her small kitchen table, covered in an old lace tablecloth, and chatted while we waited, getting to know each for the first time. The more we spoke, the more she reminded me of my dad.

  Dinner itself was barely passable. The freezing and thawing cycle hadn’t added anything to the free kitchen’s food, and she must have grabbed this stuff from a really bad day. The end result was a grainy soup that slid down your throat in a gelatinous lump.

  “I always go out for an evening walk before the Ambients dim,” my aunt said. “Even with the distance to the food, I still need more exercise than I get. These bones aren’t getting any younger. The air seems cleaner at this time of day as well. I know I’m too slow for you, but would you want to join me?”

  “Of course!” The thought of heading out in the dress made me feel vulnerable and exposed, but how could I say no? She had offered me a roof over my head, and put food, if you could call it that, into my stomach.

  Before we opened the door, a loud bang and swearing came from the hall. I froze, gripping the doorknob. Auntie put her hand on my arm, her shrunken muscles pushing hard through the thinning skin.

  “That’s Jackson from down the hall. He comes in drunk and cursing most nights. If you wait a bit, he’ll get himself into his rooms and quiet down.”

  Her voice stayed soft, hiding the tension I saw so clearly in her arm. We waited for a couple of minutes, listening to the noise. A door slammed and the yelling became muffled.

  Auntie visibly relaxed, and it drove the point home that I wasn’t the only one being abused in that old apartment on Level 1. She had been as well. Maybe not physically like I was, but she had been emotionally battered, and still showed the scars from those years.

  Did we ever really lose them?

  “We can go now.” She opened the door and closed it behind us, locking it.

  “How do you put up with it?” I asked, nodding my head toward a closed door. I could still hear him cursing.

  “I know he lives alone . . . that his lack of control, his addiction, isn’t harming anyone else. I stay out of his way.”

  That was more than she’d been able to do when it was her husband. As we walked past Jackson’s apartment, she picked up her pace, slowing only when we reached the door heading outside. I could almost feel the connection between us forming. There wasn’t anything she could have done to help me all those years ago.

  He wouldn’t have let her.

  The strength she would have needed when she kicked him out. The fear she must have felt. The same as mine. All I wanted to do was pull her into my arms and hold her until we both could let go of what that man had done to us. I held the door open for her instead.

  The air felt fresher than when we had come in, but that could have been my imagination. For one, I didn’t smell as bad anymore, and the dress let me feel the air swirl around my legs with every step. Auntie looped her arm over mine, and we strolled around the block, not saying anything, each of us lost in our own thoughts and memories.

  From nowhere, a body slammed into me.

  We fell in a pile of arms and legs, intertwined and writhing in a hope for freedom. I could see Auntie, she had been thrown into the wall of the apartment block and lay still. I slashed out with an elbow, happy with the solid impact and the feeling of less weight holding me down.

  Before I could stand, a foot arced toward my head. I rolled to the left and the heavy booted foot scraped my cheek. Blood splashed in my ears. I didn’t know who had attacked us. My world was a flurry of arms and hands and feet and knees.

  I jumped up, risking a glance at my aunt. She had moved to a sitting position by the wall and watched, her eyes wide, her face a sickly white. Looking was a mistake. A fist snaked toward my face. I ducked, blocking it with a forearm and swinging back in return.

  It was then I recognized Janice.

  How had she found me, and where was her partner? I stumbled back, away from my aunt. The move created more space between us, and we stood there, both of us ready for another attack. I had to finish this quickly, before her partner could join the fray.

  “Why?” I panted. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Because I was told to.” She circled to the right, trying to get me between the building and her, with my back to my aunt.

  “By who?” I stepped backward instead, out onto the street.

  “William, from ACE. Jeremy would have wanted it too.”

  “Jeremy is dead and William has disappeared. You don’t need to do this.”

  “You’re right. This is for me.” Her last words sounded more like a snarl.

  I didn’t know what to say. Before I could, she was on me again, her foot lashing out at my knee.

  I blocked it, pain shooting through my shin. The momentum of her kick spun her partway around. She was out of control. I took advantage and jumped, hammering my elbow into the base of her skull. She collapsed and lay still. I stood over her, struggling to catch my breath before grabbing and dragging her to the side of the road. I dropped her in the gutter and grabbed her hair, raising her head over the curb, and slammed down with everything I had left. Her forehead glanced off the corner and smashed into street. I picked up her head again.

  “Kris!”

  I let go and rushed up to my aunt, pain shooting up my leg at every step and my breath coming in sharp ragged gasps. “Are you okay?”

  “I can’t move my leg. You . . . you were trying to kill her.”

  “She was trying to kill me. We need to go. Last time I saw her, I think she had a partner.”

  “Okay.”

  I heard the fear in her voice.

  Auntie tried to stand and collapsed back down with a whimper. “I can’t.”

  “Where does it hurt? Let me see.”

  “My hip, I think. As soon as I put weight on it, I start to feel weak.”

  “Is it bad?”

  “I don’t think so. I ca
n make it.”

  “Okay. Put your arm over my shoulder. I’ll help you up.” I crouched under her arm and stood. She cried out in agony. “I know where I need to take you. We need to find a car.”

  nine

  LOS ANGELES LEVEL 2—THURSDAY, JULY 6, 2141 5:22 P.M.

  JANICE TWITCHED ON the ground. The curb, only a few centimeters from her face, came into focus. She watched a cockroach skitter in the corner, disappearing inside a tiny crack. The back of her head ached and her face was numb. She pushed up to her hands and knees, and the ache turned into a sharp pain, making everything blur. Kris and her friend were gone. Though she knew which building Kris’s friend lived in, it wasn’t worth checking out. Kris was too smart to head back in there. This wasn’t over yet.

  Her world spun as she struggled to get to her feet, eventually crawling over to the wall the old woman had leaned against and using it to brace herself. When she finally made it up, she rested, pressing her cheek against the cool, moist fibercrete, closing her eyes against the spin. She stayed that way, trying to focus her thoughts. Blood ran down her face from a gash.

  Before she could move on, her comm unit rang.

  She fumbled through her pockets, her coordination still uncertain. The buzzing stopped. She focused her eyes on the screen. Damn. It was SoCal. The thought barely formed before the unit starting buzzing again.

  “Hello?” Her head pounded with the sound of her own voice.

  “Where are you?” John asked.

  “I . . . I followed the old woman. Like Manfred told me.” Lying was her best plan at this point.

  “Manfred told you?”

  “Yeah. We lost Kris and decided to split up, then call each other if we found her.”

  “Fine. Where are you?”

  “I’m west of Chinatown, a little over thirty minutes away by foot.”

  “You’ll have to be more specific than that.”

  “Okay, let me find a street sign.” Janice lurched from the wall and wiped the blood from her eye. She wandered around the back of the building, each step sending shards of pain into her head. She stuffed her empty stun gun into a drainpipe. Better to get rid of the evidence. “There are no signs here. It’s on the main road leading out of Chinatown. I’ll start walking back.”