Like a Boss

by Adam Rakunas

  I led them up the stairs, wondering what the hell I was doing. Leading crowds out of burning buildings was one thing, but leading wannabe volunteer firefighters in? Maybe I’d get some kind of special solidarity award to decorate my tombstone.

  The heat grew more intense the higher we climbed. The shelter was meant to be sealed, so using it as a cape only prevented me from getting burned. Sweat slicked off my forehead, leaking into the mask’s poor seal. By the time we got to the fourth floor, my eyes burned more from perspiration than smoke. The extinguishers helped push back the fire, but it couldn’t save the structure. Holes had opened up in the floor and ceiling as the wood turned to cinders, and the floor began to make scary noises with every step. I hoped we wouldn’t need rescue ourselves.

  I counted off the doors; Agamjot had appeared in Millicent Cadwallader’s window, sixth from the stairs. I pointed at the door, and we took turns smashing it with our almost-empty extinguishers. Finally, the door gave, and we burst into the smoke-filled flat. Agamjot lay beneath the window, one arm hanging outside. “Look in the other flats for anyone else!” I yelled above the roar of the fire.

  I rushed into the room and slapped my respirator on Agamjot’s sooty face. She still had a pulse, and she stirred as the first puffs of clean air hit her lungs. “Good girl,” I said, wrapping the shelter around us.

  There was a crash, and I turned to see the ceiling collapse behind me. A shower of sparks rushed into the flat, pyro pixie dust riding an updraft toward my face. With a great crack, another beam smashed to the floor. A wall of burning timber cut me off from the cutters.

  I picked up Agamjot and cradled her so the respirator would stay on. We’d have to go out the window and use the fire escape. No one liked using the fire escape. The kids wouldn’t even climb on it. But it would have to do.

  As I looked out the window and tried to figure out how to get us both down, something heavy hit the floor. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

  I looked over my shoulder. Jennifer stood in the middle of the living room, sparks drifting down on her from a hole in the ceiling. Her clothes were singed, and her face was sooty, and she looked pissed. She pocketed a tiny rebreather and closed the gap between us in three fast strides. I had enough time to throw my body over Agamjot before Jennifer brought an elbow down in the middle of my back. My arms gave out, and the kid fell to the ground. I lost my grip on the shelter, and it slid off me to cover Agamjot. At least, I think it did. It was hard to tell after the follow-up kick I got to the side of my head.

  I flopped next to Millicent’s coffee table. The table was solid glass, and it had this collection of polished glass bricks on top. Each brick held a sea shell in its center. Making those knick-knacks was Millicent’s hobby, and I never noticed before how pretty they were. Above me, I saw Jennifer, her face backlit by the burning ceiling overhead. She looked at me the way someone would look at a cockroach, and she lifted a boot. I held up a hand. “Wait,” I gasped.

  She paused and cocked her head. “Why should I?”

  My head lolled in Agamjot’s direction, and Jennifer’s eyes followed. The transformation on her face was remarkable. The cool rage melted, and she froze. “You gotta help me get her out,” I croaked.

  Jennifer blinked as if I’d slapped her. “I don’t have to do anything you tell me.”

  “Then just be decent and help me help this kid.”

  She sneered and flicked away a falling ember. I glanced up; through the holes in the ceiling, I could see a sagging beam in the floor above. It had a giant crack in its middle, and it looked ready to come apart. I couldn’t outfight her, but there was no way she could win against a collapsing roof.

  “We don’t have time for this,” I said. “What’s she paying you?”

  That got a laugh. “Are you serious? I know how broke you are.”

  “I own a distillery.”

  “I hate rum.”

  “I’m not asking you for a drink, I’m telling you I can pay more than whatever Letty’s paying you!”

  Jennifer’s amused look faded. “You can’t buy your way out of everything. Definitely not this.” A half dozen pinpoint embers dropped on her head. The beam and everything it held up groaned.

  “No,” I said, hauling myself upright. “But I can buy time.”

  She narrowed her eyes. A shower of sparks fell on her, and she looked up long enough for me to grab a glass brick and hurl it at her face. The brick hit her in the chest, but it gave me enough of an opening to scoop up Agamjot and leap for the fire escape. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jennifer pivot to grab me. Her nails raked through the jacket, so sharp they cut through to my skin. I didn’t care because I was too busy pushing aside the flower pots filled with petunias and cannabis.

  Jennifer roared, and I clung to the fire escape as the ceiling came down on her. The rest of the building began to collapse in on itself, and the coral steel platform creaked away. I tried to climb down, but ironwork trellis moved too fast for me to do anything else but hang on to Agamjot. The fire escape smashed into the koa tree, and the branches jabbed at us as we came to a gentle halt. I looked down at my neighbors, who looked back at me.

  Rohit Patil called up, “You put your foot on that branch to climb down!” He waved in the direction of my left foot. Below was a well-worn spot in the bark. I clambered to the ground, where Mustache Man and his crew had gathered with everyone else. I handed Agamjot to her father. She was still out, but breathing.

  A small explosion blew out the windows on the second floor, and the whole building rumbled. I grabbed Mustache Man by the shoulder. “Can you and your crew make sure this fire doesn’t spread?”

  He whisked ashes out of his facial hair and grinned. “Like I said, we’re the best in the biz.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Don’t bullshit me, man. Can you keep this under control?”

  He nodded. “We’ll need help.”

  “You’ll get it.” I climbed into the lowest branches of the tree and yelled, “LISTEN UP!”

  The crowd stopped talking.

  I pointed at Mustache Man. “This right here is…’ I leaned over and hissed, “What’s your name?”

  “Onanefe.”

  I nodded, then looked back at the crowd. “Onanefe and his crew are going to keep this blaze under control until the pros get here. He’ll need your help. Our building’s a goner, but that doesn’t mean anyone else has to lose their home tonight. Can I count on you?”

  Silence.

  “Oh, come on, people,” I said. “I know I’ve been busy, but are you really gonna tell me that you’re not going to work together to keep the rest of this block from going up in smoke?”

  “Who put you in charge?” said Millicent, clutching the lone surviving pot of sativa close to her chest.

  “No one,” I said. “I have absolutely no authority here. I’m just a regular schmoe like the rest of you. But I’m still a schmoe who believes in this.” I pointed at the fist on my right cheek. “I still believe in working together to fight anything that threatens us. And right now, this fire is threatening our block, and maybe our neighborhood. Onanefe and his crew work in the cane fields. They know how to shut down fires. Their livelihoods depend on that. And I think, Millie, that they might be the most qualified people here to fix our common problem. Don’t you?”

  Millicent sniffed and cradled the plant. “I was just checking.”

  “I thank you for that,” I said, hoping it didn’t sound too sarcastic. “Does anyone else have any further objections?”

  The people looked at each other and shrugged.

  “Good. Shall we?”

  Onanefe and his crew divided the crowd up into teams and directed them to work.

  An ambulance finally made an appearance. Its bubble lights splashed color across everyone’s faces. I ran to the driver’s side and banged on the window. “Look, you gotta call Search and Rescue or someone. There’s a woman trapped in there–”

  The driver looked up. It was the w
oman I’d seen earlier today at the Co-Op, the one who’d asked me about the Mutual Fund. Her face was cold and hard, and I realized she was the spitting image of Jennifer.

  I took a step back, right into someone that felt as solid as a brick wall. I turned. It was Jennifer, her clothes torn and burnt and her face screwed up in a look that said she was going to kick my spine out the top of my head. “Get in,” she said, pointing to the back. I was too stunned to protest.

  The ambo’s back doors opened, and, this time, I let out a yelp. Letty sat on the bench, an O2 mask to her face. She took a deep breath and offered me the mask. “Need a hit?”

  The recently on-fire Jennifer pushed me into the back and pulled the doors shut behind her. She sat down next to me and clamped a hand around my upper arm. With a whoop-whoop, the ambo reversed and eased its way onto Samarkand Road. The back bay of the ambo opened up into the driver’s seat, so I could see out the windshield. We edged through the crowd, the younger Jennifer pulling her hat down lower on her face. “Do I get to know what’s going on?” Letty just chuckled. I tried blinking up video, but, of course, I got an eyeful of static. All three of them probably had scramblers.

  The Jennifer driving the ambo stepped on the gas. We peeled through the few boulevards free of marchers until we were on the bumpy road to the kampong. I lost track of time, what with the terrible road conditions and the human vise grip on my arm. We eased to a halt, and the older Jennifer let go. I gasped at the ice-fire that zipped up and down my arm. She had left marks in my skin. She might have even left fingerprints.

  The older Jennifer wiped the soot off her face with a towel. She tossed aside the dirty cloth, and her skin glowed, like she had swallowed a searchlight.

  Letty took one last puff of O2. “They make ’em a lot tougher than when you were an Indenture.”

  I eyed Jennifer and realized she had no pores. Her skin was a smooth, continuous surface, as if she’d been glazed and fired like a ceramic statue.

  Letty smiled. “Carbon silicates in her skin, five times the hemoglobin, funky muscle fibers. She could tear an entire goon squad apart before you could blink.”

  “And it looks like she comes in pairs.”

  The older Jennifer nodded. “Triplets, actually.”

  “So is the third the maiden or the crone?”

  The Jennifer nearest me narrowed her eyes. “She’s none of your business.”

  “Let’s talk,” said Letty. She climbed past me and opened the doors.

  The smell of caramelized sugar and burnt ironpalm barrels hit me, and I didn’t have to climb out to see we were parked in front of the Old Windswept Distillery. I eyeballed Letty. “What, you weren’t satisfied with torching my house? You gonna do the same to my distillery, too?”

  Letty grunted as she climbed out. “Seeing how there’s no fire response out here, that would be pointless. Besides, I like your rum. You coming?” The Jennifer in the EMT outfit appeared at her side, and the Jennifer in the ambo gave me a jab with her finger.

  I sat back and crossed my arms. “I’m not going anywhere with you until you tell me what the fuck is going on. Starting with why she” – I pointed at the Jennifer who’d tried to kill me – “tried to kill me.”

  “Nonsense,” said Letty. “She wouldn’t do that.”

  “Are you gaslighting me, Letty? It’s bad enough you’re packing scramblers. Now you’re going to tell me that your bodyguard didn’t try to kill me?”

  Letty gave the older Jennifer a glare. “We’ve talked. Things got a little more heated than they were supposed to.”

  “Not the best choice of words, considering you burned my building down.”

  “Oh, please.” Letty dug around in her pockets until she found her stogie and a matchbox. She took out an actual match and lit her cigar. A few toxic puffs later, she smiled. “Your whole block is a dump. Once this all blows over, it’s going to get rebuilt.”

  “What whole thing? You mean this strike?” I vaulted out of the ambulance, clearing the distance between us in a few steps. Both Jennifers leaped to Letty, their hands loose at their sides. I didn’t care. I got in Letty’s face. “Did you let this whole thing happen on purpose?”

  She took a puff on her cigar and blew the smoke out the side of her mouth. “You are sharp, Padma. I shouldn’t have let you take that crap job. You’d be a lot better off working for me.”

  “Thanks, but I’m not a fan of arson.” I sniffed at Letty. “I don’t smell any alcohol. Were you even drunk?”

  She smiled, took another puff.

  I looked at the two Jennifers and wondered if I could take a swing before they could react. Their slate-gray eyes turned to me, their neck muscles flexing. They could probably knock my head off my shoulders before I twitched. If Letty could set my building on fire, then she could easily have these two kill me and make my body disappear. Hell, I was still sure she did try to have me killed. For now, I would have to use my words.

  “I have no idea how to help you here, Letty. I really don’t. I went to another one of Saarien’s churches, and – oh, that’s right. You’ve already seen everywhere I’ve been and reviewed everything I said. Why rehash it for you?”

  Letty ground the cigar out on her sole of her boot and put it back in her coat pocket. “But I don’t know what you’re thinking, Padma. It’s not enough to know where you’ve been. I don’t know what your gut is telling you about the strike.”

  “That it’s stupid and wrongheaded and that you should end it right away.”

  “How do you suggest I do that?”

  “Give the strikers what they want.”

  “Which is?”

  “What, you don’t know?”

  She shook her head. “I have yet to get a list of formal demands from anyone. All I’ve seen is the city flooded with angry Freeborn and a whole lot of Union people walking alongside them.”

  “Then maybe you can hack into all those pais and find out for yourself.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Bullshit.”

  She shrugged and showed me her open hands. “It’s the truth, Padma. Hacking into your pai was a one-time trick. I start getting into everyone’s heads, I’m going to leave fingerprints, and then it’s all over for me.”

  “Ah. So it’s perfectly acceptable for you to violate only my head. Got it.”

  Letty bit her lip. “You think this is easy for me? You think I like having to go to these measures? We are up against the wall, Padma. Not just the Executive Committee, but everyone on this planet, Union and Freeborn alike.” She looked away, her mouth turning into a sour frown. “I told you about the Big Three cutting back on the amount of cane they’re going to buy from us, right?”

  “You have, though I don’t see why you haven’t told everyone else about it.”

  “Because I didn’t want a full-blown panic.”

  “Instead you’ve got a full-blown strike. Great move.”

  “And we can still stop it!” Letty put her hands on my shoulders.

  I tensed, ready to pop her one if she tried to hug me. I was so not in the mood for a hug from this woman. “You keep saying we, but I really think you mean you. As in me.”

  “Because you can still move around in all the circles that matter. I can’t go out into the streets without worrying about getting assaulted.”

  “You’re the President of the Union!” I flicked her hands off me. “It’s your job to talk to everyone, especially when they’re unhappy and pissed off. That’s why we elected you.”

  She smiled. “Good to know I had your vote.”

  “You’re not getting it again,” I said, walking toward my distillery.

  “Come on, Padma! What about our deal?”

  “It went up in smoke with my building.”

  “I don’t remember those terms.”

  “Well, gee, Letty, maybe if you hadn’t insisted on all this cloak-and-dagger bullshit, we could have come to actual terms. I should have sussed this before. You’re using me as a proxy, even
though I’ve been out of any serious Union work for almost two years. You talked about the strike as if it were something on the horizon when it was ready to explode today. Not even Saarien could motivate that many people to march on short notice. He’s been out for three months, and that tells me he’s been building his movement for three months. And there is no way someone in your position couldn’t have seen this coming. You’re too wired in, Letty.”

  She shrugged. “Even I can get things wrong.”

  “Not like this. You got me wrapped up in this for some reason. You burned my building down for some reason. And you know what? I have no desire to figure those reasons out. I’ve got rum to make.” I walked up the crushed shell path to the press house.

  As I approached the front door, Letty called out: “What are you going to do when you run out of cane, Padma?”

  I gave her the finger before slamming the door behind me. My office chair had never felt more comfortable.

  NINE

  It was still dark when I woke up, and I didn’t bother to blink up the time. The camp bed squeaked, and I shivered as I wrapped the blanket tighter around me. My office was the designated hurricane shelter for the distillery, which meant all the survival gear lived in my desk. I figured it had nothing to do with how Old Windswept was made, so I had splurged for good stuff. Even though it was great not having to worry about making Six O’Clock, a week of living on canned food and sleeping on a bed made of pipes and canvas had taken its toll. I wanted to do something.

  I was still half-asleep when the idea hit me: I should fire up the whole operation and make a batch of rum all on my own. I got as far as loading cane onto the press when I realized I was working with the wrong batch. Tonggow had created a complicated curing process, with some stalks sitting in sunlight while others hid in the shadows. I had loaded the sunlight bundles first instead of the shady ones. There’s a lot of biochemistry involved, she had told me, and, no matter how many times I watched the footage I’d shot of our talks, I could never get a handle on just why she had done these things. I only know that she had, so I had to, too.