Steel Lily ARC

by Megan Curd

  Well, except for my mom.

  And she was gone.

  Each step I took reverberated off the steel steps, no matter how lightly I treaded. I waited for someone to ask me where I was going, why I was using the stairway when airbuses ran around the clock, but no one stopped me. I took it as an indication that fate was on my side for this little endeavor.

  With my mask back in place, I put my beanie on and hoped there weren’t any Polatzi close to recognize me. If I could get into a crowd, I could disappear into the masses.

  Probably.

  Hopefully.

  The seal on the door hissed when I pushed against it, and then the harsh light bombarded me.

  Rebellion. Sweet, adrenaline-inducing rebellion.

  Freedom surged through me as I stepped outside. The pathway out of Wutherford Tower and into the Traditional area of the Dome was worn to mud from the humidity and sweat of everyday life. It was real. It was gritty.

  It was life for everyone but a select few.

  Twenty minutes later I passed under the Welcome to Detroit, the Motor City sign. It creaked as it swayed back and forth, barely hanging onto the thick wire holding it aloft. I scanned the surging crowd for the sweeping capes of the Polatzi, who would be more than happy to cart me back to “approved” grounds, but saw none.

  I was safe…

  For now.

  I pulled my beanie a bit further down and kept my head down. It wouldn’t take the Polatzi long to figure out it was me if they saw a stray lock, or saw my Elite mask.

  To the right of the market was government housing. Wooden boards covered broken windows and hid the inhabitants from the outside world. Candlelight flickered through the boards of one house, as the family turned in for the evening. Even the bravest souls made sure to be off the streets when darkness fell.

  There was little mercy for those out past curfew.

  I’d take the risk today.

  With one last glance around, I headed into the crowded marketplace building and stuffed my mask back in my bag. One less identifying trait to worry about.

  People milled about, murmuring, their faces tinged with resolve. There was no joy in this place. Only a dogged determination to survive.

  Most of the lights overhead were broken and hung by their thin wiring. A few flickered as they clung to life, casting everything in a sickly yellow glow. Steam hung in the air like a corporeal being and made me feel like the market wouldn’t be out of place in the underworld.

  I gazed around the hazy market as people brushed past me, not bothering to apologize or excuse themselves. Signs for booths and “Today Only!” sales bombarded me from either side. The constant stream of people made it almost impossible to see down the long row of wooden ramshackled booths.

  “Hey, shorty,” called the familiar, slow drawl of a southern woman who used to know me all too well.

  The wooden cart to my left was laden with overripe fruit. The woman behind the table leaned toward me, her ample bosom spilling out of her ragged dress. She placed a hand on her chest and smiled broadly. “My lands, if it ain’t baby girl comin’ down from her throne! I haven’t seen you since your mamma and daddy got snatched. Now look at you, all grown up.”

  Heat rushed to my face. Memories of my mother and I coming to visit the market flooded back. The warmth of her hand and the assurance of her stride as she navigated the throngs of people. The Red Vines she bought me each time we came.

  I hadn’t eaten Red Vines since Mom and Dad disappeared.

  I forced a smile. She meant nothing by it. “Hey, Dana.”

  “Heard good things about you, little miss. I’m proud of you! Always knew you were special, what with the way trouble followed you around like it was gum stuck to the bottom of your shoe. Glad to see you’re makin’ something of yourself.” She glanced around, then returned her gaze to me. “You ain’t come out here in ages, and I know you ain’t supposed to be here now. What’s got you out of your shiny home at the top of Wutherford Tower?”

  I shook my head and tried to look nonchalant. After the mention of my parents, inside it felt like I was barely keeping my head above water. My throat tightened as I remembered the day Alice and I returned to find my front door hanging off the hinges, Polatzi swarming the place. I fought back the tears and smiled. “What, I can’t come visit you?”

  She leaned back and put her arms behind her head. “Child, you ain’t never come here before now, so don’t you go trying to tell me you’re here to see me. Land’s sakes. I know you ain’t gonna risk coming down to LaFayette for me, and I ain’t expecting you to. Your parents would be madder than hornets if they knew you was bein’ reckless. You got it good up there. Don’t be messing it up by fooling around in these parts. I know the Guv keeps a hawk’s eye on you Elementalists,” she narrowed her eyes, but the crow’s feet at the corners gave away her happiness. “Tell me what ol’ Dana can get you, then get yourself outta here before you find trouble.”

  “I’m looking for a birthday gift for Alice.”

  Dana leaned under her booth and pulled out a box of trinkets. “I’ve got a few knick-knacks she might like if she’s still workin’ at the old seamstress shop down on East Jefferson.” She brandished a box of brand new sewing needles. “She’ll be needin’ some new needles, won’t she? Last I saw, the ones she was usin’ were rusted.”

  I smiled at the suggestion. Alice had wanted new needles forever. “What do you want for these?”

  Dana winked. “Take ‘em. You know I ain’t gonna ask you for nuthin’.”

  “Do you need steam for your generator at home? I know you’re still nannying for kids around here. You want to keep that oxygen purifier going for them.”

  Dana nodded thoughtfully. “I ain’t asking you for nuthin’, sweet girl. We make it out here just fine.”

  I placed my hand on hers as I took the needles. “I’ll be back next week. We can fill your generator with steam to last you a week or so. Sound good?”

  Her white teeth shone in a wide smile. “Your parents would be proud, I know that much, Miss Pike. You’ve grown into a fine young woman. You took a bad situation—what with losing your parents and everything else—and turned it into something good for yourself and the rest of us. You’ve made what a lot of people would think was a curse into a blessing. Who needs fossil fuel when we’ve got Elementalists like you?” She smiled and waved me away. “Now get before the Polatzi start sniffing around. They give me the willies as it is, and I don’t need to be worrying about you! And stay away from those steam cisterns — I know there are extra Polatzi roaming down that way, what with steam shortage.”

  “Thanks, Dana. Stay safe.”

  I waved one last time before losing sight of her in the crowd on my way out. The roar of steam hissed below me as it erupted through the metal grates in a fresh bloom of humidity, one of two daily releases required to keep our soil producing food. I picked up the pace.

  The lower east side was nothing more than run-down brick homes and a handful of places still clinging to their former shape. Dilapidated houses lined the road, laid out in grids like some perverse game of battleship. Right behind them and outside the dome was the now-radiated Detroit River. In the distance, the once magnificent skyscrapers loomed. The tops of them were now rebar and caving in on themselves.

  The sun hung low in the sky, but I still had time. Outside the market, it felt ten degrees cooler as I entered the alleyway. Rats scurried under my feet as though they were escaping a sinking ship.

  I wished I could escape.

  Each night the Polatzi ensured that everyone was in their government-sanctioned housing at curfew. Some nights, they’d do surprise raids in this end of town—the condemned housing where no one was permitted to live. They claimed they were trying to protect the ones who might be exposed to radiation by being on the outskirts of the dome. Maybe at one point they had noble intentions, but not anymore. Now they were little more than modern day pirates, plundering anything they found under the pre
tense of the law.

  “Pike!” someone yelled.

  I jumped as a tall, lanky frame bolted upright from behind the dumpster ahead. Even with the red handkerchief covering his nose and mouth, I could see the mischievous smile hidden beneath by the glint in the boy’s eyes. “Really, Legs?”

  He smiled and shrugged, his spiked hair waving as he shook his head. “I was just stopping by to say hi to Alice. I figured you were at home, you know, after last week’s little adventure.”

  I shuddered as I remembered being huddled behind the dumpster to avoid being caught out by the Polatzi. The little black legs of cockroaches had scuttled across my legs and covered me in writhing black bodies. It took everything in me not to scream. Legs had drawn the Polatzi the other direction at the last moment by causing a commotion. I was lucky he’d been there. “I’d rather not get comfortable with the cockroaches again anytime soon, and you don’t need to have any more run-ins with the Polatzi. You better have something good to trade. I’m in a hurry. There’s not much time before curfew, and I need to see Alice.”

  His nickname was true to his form. Legs was my age—fifteen—and supporting his little sister while his father drank his way into oblivion. Legs’s pants were too short and his clothes were tattered. Everything he owned was in need of repair; the patches on his shirt needed re-patching. I’d never seen his entire face. He always wore something over his nose and mouth, even on days when the oxygen levels were good and we didn’t need to wear oxygen masks.

  His shoulders slumped. “I hate to admit this, but I’m hungry.”

  “Everyone’s hungry,” I said, digging into my satchel. “Is business down?”

  He nodded. “No one’s looking for specialty items any more. Only bare necessities, and LaFayette Market is thick with traders for that stuff.”

  I dug deep in my bag, pushing personal items out of the way. At the bottom were a couple cogs. The cold brass slid across my fingertips as I pulled them from the satchel. “Here,” I dropped three cogs into his palm. “That’s all I’ve got. Can you trade these to get what you need? I don’t have any cash.”

  Legs nodded and glanced back toward the market. “Yeah. Thanks, Pike. Sorry I had to ask.”

  The humidity bore down on us like a thick blanket, and sweat wound down his forehead when he leaned into me. “I heard the Polatzi are running another sweep tonight. Be careful, you hear? Check on Alice to make sure she’s set, but then go home.”

  “Sure thing,” I said, knowing that was impossible. Wutherford Tower Estates wasn’t my home. I hadn’t been home in years. “What about you? Do you need a place to hide? You know the military doesn’t take lightly to people straying out.”

  Legs waved away my offer and shrugged. “I’m laying low in the foyer of the house next door to Alice. A couple other sellers are squatting there, and they said it’s safe. The past couple sweeps, the Polatzi breezed right past.” He tugged on a stray hair that had escaped from under my beanie. “You’re the one that should be worried. If your hair was any redder, it could be a neon sign.”

  “I wear hats,” I joked, slapping his hand away. “Take care of yourself, Legs.”

  He laughed and turned to leave. “Thanks for caring, but you definitely still owe me.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know I’ll never get out from under the oppression of your debt.”

  He waved before he crossed the street and disappeared into the bustling sea of vendors. I knew he would end up trading the cogs for food for his sister, and go hungry himself. His determination to take care of his family made me proud.

  I pushed around the dumpster. The gritty smell of overripe fruit and mold hung heavy in the air, and not even my shirt over my nose blocked out the scent. I ran my hand along the ground-level window ledge, slipped through, and into the dark, damp basement.

  My fingers fumbled with the gas lamp. Sallow light cast long shadows across the small room, throwing hodge-podge of boxes and broken furniture into sharp relief. Alice and I constantly tossed old junk down here. Anyone who looked would assume this place was a dumpsite. So far it had worked. No one suspected anyone lived on the main floor.

  I avoided the sixth wooden stair, which creaked with age. Excitement had me taking the remaining steps two at a time until I reached the landing. I didn’t even bother to knock before unlocking the door. It grated against the tile floor, and I tried to shut it as fast as I could. The rubber hosing wiggled in protest as I fought with it, sealing the door back. All of the windows were fashioned the same way; it was necessary to keep out the bad air on days that the Dome turned off the oxygen purifiers and made us wear masks.

  I tossed my things on the countertop and smiled when I caught sight of Alice in the living room, peeking over the far end of the couch. Her face was leaner; her bright eyes now duller than when we’d first met as children playing in each other’s yards. But all the same, she was still my vivacious Alice. Still the one person I could count on through thick and thin.

  She was as close to family as I had.

  “Avery!” she said with a nervous laugh as she stood up. “You scared me to death.”

  I grinned. “Sorry. Did you really think I’d miss your birthday?” I handed her the box of needles. “Happy birthday. I know it’s not much but—“

  She squealed with delight and wrapped me in a bear hug. “But nothing! They’re amazing!”

  She took a new needle out, threaded it, and returned to her latest sewing project with a satisfied sigh. The needle wove in and out of the fabric, leaving no trace of human error. Her craftsmanship was better than any sewing machine I’d ever seen. “What are you making now?”

  “Well,” she said, her eyes never leaving the pins that marked her way like a roadmap, “I was trying to make Legs a pair of pants that actually fit him. Last week he brought me bread when I ran out of money.” She glanced over the fabric. “I could make you a nice dress if you’d let me, you know.”

  I shook my head and laughed. “If you had your way, you’d dress me in a tu-tu.”

  In one fluid motion, Alice grabbed the nearest cushion and launched it my direction. It flew past my head and connected with the side of the refrigerator. Some of the colorful United States of America magnets rained down and clattered on the floor.

  I chuckled. “Good thing we don’t need your aim to keep us alive.”

  “Bite me.”

  She smiled, her eyes crinkling at the edges. Sheets of inky black hair fell around her naturally tan face as she focused on the pants again. “I guess you’ll want to get back to your house soon, right? So no one sees you leaving?”

  I plopped down on the arm of the couch. A plume of dust clouded the air, making me sneeze. Yet another perk of furniture shopping in condemned housing. I picked at a hole in the fabric, pulling out a thin strand of filler.

  Hot tingles prickled my insides, setting my nerves on edge. “Legs told me that the Polatzi are doing another sweep tonight. Keep away from the windows, okay?”

  Alice paled, fear etched into her otherwise perfect features. “Already? They did one last week. Do you think they’ll find me?”

  “Of course not.” I said, placing a hand on Alice’s shoulder. “Have they found you yet? You’re careful. They aren’t going to find you.”

  As if the Polatzi had heard me making a promise I couldn’t keep, the worn carpet rumbled under our feet. Alice’s face paled as the vibration turned into a low drone that quickly became a roar. Bits of plaster fell from the ceiling.

  The hovercrafts were outside.

  “It’s not curfew yet!” she cried as she ran to get the lights, “Why are they here? The sun hasn’t gone down!”

  My stomach sank as the steady pounding of footsteps echoed along the road. Then it happened.

  Heavy thuds of boots hit the wet cement of the basement, and then someone hit the sixth step on the stairs. Moments later the wood snapped, giving way under the abuse.

  I tried to think of a way to escape, but we were trapped. It was d
usk, I was on the wrong end of town, and the Polatzi would break the door down any minute.

  So much for fate being on my side today.

  CHAPTER

  THREE

  “Oh God, Avery, we’re screwed!”

  Alice scrambled to open the hidden nook we’d created behind the dilapidated bookshelf for a situation like this. Books tumbled from the crooked shelves and pages flew from the tattered old spines, littering the wood floor. She threw her tiny frame against the side of the shelf again, each time with a grunt. If the Polatzi wondered if someone lived here, their suspicions were confirmed by the racket. “Avery, come on. Help me!”

  Panic welled in my chest. The thought of the Polatzi bursting through the door was almost paralyzing, but I couldn’t let them get Alice. I ran to her aid, and together we pushed the shelf to the side.

  A tiny crevice barely big enough for one of us came into view. An old blanket and pillow lay at the back of the nook, holes in the cloth chewed away by moths. The musty scent of wet wood and disuse filled my nostrils, but that didn’t make me pause.

  The turning of the locked basement door handle did.

  “Alice, go,” I said as I shoved her into the tiny space and began to push the shelf back in place.

  Alice’s eyes grew wide. “What are you doing? You can fit. We’ll squeeze—”

  “No, we won’t,” I argued, the bookshelf grinding against the wooden floor, “I’m not the one that’ll get arrested and end up God knows where. Stay quiet and don’t come out until it’s been silent for at least an hour. You know the Polatzi linger.”

  Before she could argue, a yell sounded from below, followed by gunshots.

  “What the hell…” Alice whispered through the remaining crack, her shadowy figure leaning toward me.

  The muscles in my legs burned as I crawled toward the kitchen. “I don’t know. Let me go listen.”