The Walls of Orion

by T. D. Fox

  In the stillest corner of his instincts, Jasper imagined another sound on the wind. A whistle, far down the street, lilting and high. He turned. The street lamps shimmered on the pavement. Cars stood quiet and dark. No sign of anyone on the sidewalk. Just that silly tune. An eerie echo.

  He discovered his hand on his gun. He let go, rolling his shoulders to dispel the trickle of goosebumps. Folding his tall frame behind the wheel of his tiny sedan, he started up the engine and pulled out onto the icy street.

  8. WHAT'S THE HOLDUP?

  FOR THE FIRST time in over a month, the sun broke through the thick blanket of gray. It burned bright and clear all morning, warding off the autumn mist that usually settled over the city.

  Courtney woke up happy. She didn’t know why, but she wasn’t about to question it. Maybe it was the brightness outside affecting her inside. Maybe the universe had decided she needed a break from all her woes. Whatever the cause, she hopped out of bed and pulled on a bright red sweater. They were allowed to wear whatever they wanted to work, so long as it was clean and free of logos, so she flicked on a shade of lipstick to match her mood.

  Maybe she’d call Dina and try to actually go out tonight and meet some new people, as she’d promised. After all, for the first time in weeks, she didn’t work the closing shift.

  She pulled on her second warmest jacket—she’d given away her warmest—and twisted her long hair back, pinning it in place with a pencil. Then she headed out into the snow.

  The weather had grown milder since the blizzard that trapped her inside the café with W last week. Shallow blankets of powder covered the city, dusting lamp posts and parked cars. The streets reflected the sunlight with brilliance enough to make her eyes water. She wished she’d thought to bring sunglasses.

  A car drove by, blasting Christmas music loud and cheery enough for her to hear it through the windows. It was barely November, for Pete’s sake. But she couldn’t blame them. She smiled. The tree across the street still held onto some of its orange leaves, warm and bright. She’d heard the phrase Christmas in the air often enough, but rarely did she wake up with holiday spirit in her bones.

  The tinny jangle of the bell sounded above her head when she walked into the café. She looked around, half-hoping as usual to see a particular customer. But the booth in the corner was empty. W’s absence had become the norm over the past week or so, ever since the night the power went out. She tried not to let it bother her—didn’t know why it should bother her. But today, even that empty booth didn’t dampen her mood.

  Max looked up from behind the counter when she walked in. “You look happy today.”

  “It’s a clear morning.” Courtney joined him in the empty station. “Is it just us?”

  “Yeah. Flu season. Madeline called in sick, couldn’t find a cover.”

  “Hm.” Courtney scooped an apron out of the bin below the sinks, looping it around her neck. “Guess I’ll make sure to wash my hands.”

  Max didn’t say anything from his post by the coffee grinders. He dumped a bag of beans into the grinder, and the gritty sound filled the space between them. Courtney glanced at the back of his head. It wasn’t like him to stay quiet for long.

  She helped customers with their orders, whipped up espressos and shakes and hot teas. All the while Max ground beans.

  She waited. Whatever he had on his mind must be serious.

  “Have you seen the previews for that superhero movie?” he finally said.

  “Yeah.” Courtney rang up another customer. Who hadn’t seen them? The government allowed Orion City a small number of shipments for entertainment purposes. They’d get movies far later than the rest of the country, and only if they’d done well in the box office. Everybody within the Wall saw the previews ages before anything came out, since TV channels streamed from Outside. Which meant, once a new movie finally hit Orion’s theaters, people scrambled to buy tickets.

  “I hear it’s pretty good,” Max said.

  “Yeah, I guess,” Courtney said, wondering where he was going with this.

  “Are you doing anything Friday night?”

  There it was. He hadn’t mentioned anything since that one night, so long ago now; she’d hoped he’d let it pass. Courtney pursed her lips, searching for an appropriate response. “I’m working.”

  “We could go after your shift.”

  “Dina wanted to do something after,” she lied.

  “Poop-emoji girl,” Max remembered. “Okay, what about next week?”

  She tried to play dumb. “What about it?”

  “Do you want to go to a movie with me?”

  “I...” She landed on an escape, and decided to use it because it was honest. “I promised my little brother I would go see it with him.”

  Max sighed. “Okay. I get it.”

  “I mean it, I really did promise.” She’d planned to see the movie last Friday with Mikey, but that had been the day of the snowstorm. They’d postponed.

  He turned around, long enough to shoot her a grim smile. “Don’t do that, Court. I know it’s that other guy.”

  “What other guy?”

  He snorted, and went back to grinding coffee beans. “You’ve got a customer waiting to order.”

  Distracted, Courtney turned back to the register. “Sorry. What would you like?”

  “Um, hi. Just an espresso with... I’m sorry, this is probably super weird, but could I get, like, twenty sugars?”

  Courtney looked up in surprise. A young man stood before her, sheepish. He wore a dark uniform with a nightstick at his hip, Chinese characters emblazoned on the sleeve.

  “Sorry, how many sugars did you say you wanted?”

  “If it’s not too much trouble...” He blushed, fidgeting a little. “How many are you allowed to give me?”

  She chuckled. “You’d be surprised at how many we give away.”

  “Really? Well, then can I have thirty?”

  “Why not? There must be something in the water.”

  “Tell me about it,” the guy said with a half smile. “Y’know, if everyone threw a little sugar in the water it just might keep this city from going completely bonkers. A sweet tooth can drive people crazy when not taken care of.”

  Courtney smiled wryly back. Finally, a lighthearted joke about the invisible axe hanging over their heads. Quarantined under one for as long as they’d been, people tended either to ignore it or fear it. She rarely heard quips. Counting out thirty sugars, she passed them across the counter, and he dipped his head in thanks.

  “Can I get a name for that order?”

  “Oliver.” He slid the bill across the counter. “Keep the change.”

  Courtney watched him head over to join a girl at the back of the café and sit down—in W’s empty booth.

  It shouldn’t have bothered her. But she couldn’t help frowning at the backs of their heads as she steamed milk for the next order of lattes. They didn’t stay long. Oliver drank his coffee, talked with the girl, heads bent low over the table, and then the pair left.

  Courtney went back to loading the espresso machine. They were running low on beans, so she turned around to ask Max for a refill.

  He stood stock-still in the middle of the station, blood drained from his face. He’d paused halfway through scrubbing out a coffee pot, arms frozen at an angle like a wax figure. Courtney took a step toward him.

  “Max?”

  The bell jangled. Courtney turned out of habit.

  Her brain took a few seconds—deadly seconds—to process the three figures striding in.

  Two wore ski masks. One did not. All three were enormous, sheer muscle and height. The bigger two stood side by side: one with hands hanging, the other’s tattooed arms crossed over bulging muscles. The man without a mask was the smallest, but still looming. His dark eyes scanned the room. He wore a funny expression, somewhere between a smirk and sneer. It twisted his otherwise soft features into something fearsome.

  The two masked men stopped at the door,
flanking the bare-faced man. They surveyed the café. The unmasked man cleared his throat loudly.

  “Could I get everybody’s attention?”

  A few heads turned his way. Frowns followed. But many of the dozen or so customers in the shop remained fixed in their conversations, or zoned out, attention glued to their phones.

  The man who’d spoken nodded to himself, as if the lack of response had been expected. He reached into his pocket.

  With explosive speed, he sprang for the nearest table, leapt up onto it and plunged his arm into the air.

  BANG. BANG. BANG.

  Courtney clapped her hands over her ears. Customers shrieked. Everyone stared up at the three crisp white holes punched in the plaster. The man held a pistol pointed to the ceiling, looking down at the people now staring with rapt attention.

  “That’s more like it. Now, I’d say we’ve got nine minutes, give or take, before the blue lights show up to crash this party. So let’s get on with this, shall we?”

  The man waved his gun in a wide semicircle, and the woman below him whimpered. He looked down at her.

  “Aw, don’t worry. I don’t have a problem with you. Could you do something for me?”

  The woman stared up at him, lower lip trembling. She shrank back as the man leaned down, baring his teeth in a sinister smile.

  “Hit the floor.”

  She scrambled out of her chair and collapsed on the hardwood floor, hands over her head. The man straightened. He turned to the rest of the room.

  “I mean everybody,” he bellowed. “On your knees! Now!”

  Chairs scraped back. Coffee splattered. Everyone in the café dove to their hands and knees, some huddling under tables for flimsy cover. No one dared speak.

  “There we go. Thanks a million. Now you all sit tight and quiet while my boys and I get some business taken care of. We’ll be out of your hair in no time.”

  The man hopped off the table and strode across the café—swinging his arms, gun twirling by the handle—and headed straight for Courtney.

  “Mornin’, sweetheart.” He grinned, and she caught a flash of silver in his teeth. He glanced down at her nametag. “Hm. Courtney,” he said, popping the t. “Your coworker around?”

  Her tongue came unglued. “No.”

  “Really? Funny, I could’ve sworn you shared a shift. Let’s look for him, shall we?” He threw his head back. “Oh, Maaaaaax-well!”

  Courtney jumped at the volume. She wasn’t alone. At her feet, the coffee beans crunched. She looked down to see Max crouched beneath the storage shelves, hands on his head, peeking up at her with a colorless face.

  “Maxy-boy, come out and play.” The man stopped twirling his gun and leveled it at Courtney’s face. “Hurry it up or your girlfriend catches one in the teeth.”

  “Okay!” Max uncurled himself from beneath the shelves and stood, hands up. “Don’t shoot anybody, okay?”

  “Why not? Don’t want their blood on your hands? Because it would be on your hands, hotshot.”

  “Max,” Courtney hissed. “What is he talking about?”

  “What am I talking about? Max, want to give her an education? No? Well, darlin’, your boy here seems to be under the impression he can steal from us.”

  “I didn’t steal anything,” Max said.

  “You didn’t? Oh.” The man lowered the gun. “Well, this is awkward. Terribly sorry for the misunderstanding. We’ll just be on our way then.” He turned on his heel and headed toward the two masked men by the door. Reaching up, he patted the larger on the side of his covered face. “You’re up, sweetheart.”

  The huge man nodded. He lumbered toward the counter. The second, slightly smaller man with the tattooed sleeves followed him, while the unmasked one stood in front of the doors. The bare-faced leader tossed the gun in the air, caught it, and tossed it again. Courtney flinched every time it hit his palm.

  “So where are they?” he asked.

  Behind her, the huge man stepped into the station. Courtney shrank back against the counter as he crossed the floor. He positioned himself behind Max, who glanced back and licked his lips.

  “Where’s what?”

  WHAM. The big guy grabbed the back of his collar and slammed him forward. Max’s head cracked against the counter. A woman under one of the tables screamed.

  “Take two,” chimed the man at the front. “Where are they?”

  “I don’t know!” Max gasped. The man jerked him upright again. “I swear, I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

  THWACK. His face hit the counter once more. This time, when the man yanked him back, Max spat out a mouthful of blood.

  “Stop it!” Courtney shrieked.

  “Third time’s the charm,” said the unmasked man. “Should I ask again? Or can you even still remember with your brain rattling around like that?”

  Max’s chest heaved, his head tipped back with a huge fist holding him by the hair. “I—”

  SLAM. Max slumped over the counter, and didn’t rise until the giant snagged him by the hair again. He gasped for breath, blood streaming from his nose and lips.

  The shaking started in her gut. Twisting, churning, worse than she’d ever felt before at the sight of blood. As if her own bones were starting to writhe. She slammed it down. Stay calm. You can’t afford to panic. Not now.

  “Whoa there, champ.” The unmasked man frowned at the brute in the ski mask. “Gettin’ a touch overzealous.”

  “Sorry, Boss.”

  “Hey. Hey, Max.” The unmasked man took a few slow, swinging steps toward the counter. He tilted his head to peer into Max’s half-lidded eyes. “You still in there, buddy? Can’t skip out on this conversation that easy.”

  Courtney’s coworker hung from the big man’s grip. His lips parted. A gurgle rattled from his throat.

  “Good.” Behind the first goon, the tattooed one stepped up into the station. “Now,” continued the man in charge. “I’m gonna ask you one more time. Where’s the stash?”

  Courtney moved without thinking. She squeezed herself between Max and the counter, facing the man without a mask.

  “Stop,” she begged. “Please.”

  The inside of the gun barrel yawned black and cold. It was so close to her face, she could see the little ticks of light just inside the metal rim, before the shadows swallowed everything beyond. Her insides felt eerily still. She didn’t blink, didn’t breathe. Only the beating of her heart echoed in her head.

  The unmasked man straightened. Something flickered behind his dark eyes, a spark she’d seen somewhere before. To her surprise, he lowered his gun. She opened her mouth to offer some sort of trade, she could give them all the money in the cash register, she could—

  Someone grabbed her from behind. “You speak,” a muffled voice growled in her ear. “When the boss man tells you to speak. Got it?” The tattooed man pinned her arms to her sides, foul breath leaking through his ski mask. Courtney twisted her face away, but he tightened his grip, burying his nose in her hair. She heard him inhale, and a spear of adrenaline lanced through her. She stomped down hard on his foot. He grunted. The hand twisted in her hair, wrenching her head back. Fire seared along her scalp. A cry burst from her throat.

  “Ninth,” Max gasped out behind her.

  Both men turned to him. The tattooed man didn’t let her go, but Courtney felt him shift behind her, one arm still clamped around her chest.

  “What was that?” said the unmasked man.

  “Let her go—” Max sounded like he was struggling to breathe. “—and I’ll tell you where I put the stash.”

  A laugh rumbled at her back. “We don’t bargain with—”

  “Let her go, Ritzo.”

  The man behind her stiffened. For a second, Courtney thought he wouldn’t obey. But his grip uncoiled and he grumbled, “It’s Ripper.”

  She jerked back from him and stumbled away.

  “All right, Maxwell. Start talking,” the unmasked man demanded.

  “Ninth
Street,” Max rasped. Blood leaked from under his hairline, and his hands scrabbled at the man’s wrist to try and support some of his own weight. “I sold them to a guy off Ninth Street, between Ninth and Stewart. It was only two, I didn’t think you guys would notice out of all the—”

  “He noticed,” barked Ripper.

  “—I’m sorry.” Max coughed, a bubbling kind of cough, and spat out a bloody mass. A tooth hit the floor.

  That faint roar started in her ears. Courtney gripped the counter behind her for support, and her hands brushed something hot. An idea sparked.

  “Whaddaya think, boss?” said Ripper. “I think we should take all your teeth, pretty boy. Every last crown, fillings and all. Maybe we’ll sell ’em between Ninth and Stewart, too. You know how pricey those are under Quarantine.”

  Courtney moved. Her hands found the hot espresso pot behind her. Lunging forward, she threw it over Ripper’s back. He howled. She dove for the station exit. Feet clomped behind her, and she pressed her back against the far side of the station wall, under the outside counter.

  A few yards away, right at eye level, a customer gaped at her from under a table. The lady pointed with wide eyes, jerking her chin in warning.

  Courtney ducked, just as a fist smashed into the wall above her head.

  “Bitch!” Ripper bellowed. She scrambled across the floor on her hands, rolling sideways when she felt the air move above her.

  Not fast enough. A boot grazed the side of her skull, catching her above the temple. She sprawled, head smacking the floor. Stars swam in her eyes.

  “I’ll teach you a lesson, you—”

  Courtney kicked out, leg flailing, hoping to make contact. She did. He tripped, stumbling over his feet. She snatched the opportunity to scoot even further backwards, moving so fast on her feet and hands that she slipped, and fell backwards—

  —into something solid.

  She looked up. The man without a mask looked down. “Hello there.”

  She’d backed herself right into his feet, her shoulders against his knees. Her stomach dropped. Ripper came to a stop, panting.