by Drew Avera
Struggle.
"Do you want my gloves?" I asked between tugs of the heavy chain. I could see T'tireva shake her head, refusing to answer. That was her way—silent protests to any form of help, especially from me. As much as I hated to think it, I suspected the reason for her refusal of my help stemmed from the bickering we took part in before our parents brought us to this planet. I had antagonized her quite a bit, and more than once I had broken her trust. It was something I now regretted doing, but I could not take it back, no matter how many times I apologized for it. It was just another burnt bridge to the past that I desperately wanted to get back to.
Instead, here we were, an eleven-year-old girl and her fourteen-year-old sister, living in a state of flux. Neither of us had much in common other than our blood relationship, but we needed each other in order to survive. It was a struggle for sure. The hardest part, though, was not knowing why our parents left us behind. It surely was not for the endless opportunities to succeed, that much was for certain. I was afraid to know the real answer as to why, even though knowing might at least give me a sense of closure. I wondered if they even still thought of us, the daughters they left behind, or if they continued living a life she and I were not part of… and were happy for it.
The thought threatened to bring tears to my eyes, which was something I could not afford, not when the burden of the heavy sled dragging across the glassy sand required all my attention. T'tireva needed to me to be strong. Maybe I need to be strong for myself too, I thought. I tightened my grip on the chain and continued to push forward. That was our motto, our battle cry.
Always forward.
The city was still a few miles away, and I could tell by the low-hanging horizon the suns would drop a bit earlier today. It did not matter—we had plenty of time to drag our heap to the Yard, collect our coin, and make it back to the Attic before nightfall. "Are you still hanging in there?" I asked between heaves. I was out of breath and exhausted thanks to the backbreaking work, but it was work nonetheless and the coin we would receive in exchange for this would spend quite nicely for food and clothing. The key to our survival, though, was anonymity. By selling scrap to Gordus, we were paid under the table and no one would be able to track us. It was our saving grace after being brought to this unforgiving world because our father was on the run from the Consulate Navy.
"Yeah, I guess," T'tireva said without an upward glance. Sweat beaded across her forehead and ran into her eyes behind her reflective goggles. She bit her lip as she choked up on the chain and dragged the sled another few feet. I had no idea how I would be able to do this without her, but her silence still left me feeling alone.
I exhaled slowly in frustration as hot wind caused my tunic to whip behind me and snap loudly. Our previous quarrels were the only unresolved conflict between us. She never said it, but I knew she blamed me for us being left behind. The last thing that happened before our parents left was an argument I had with mom about having to share space with my annoying kid sister. The argument did not seem like a big deal at the time; it was just one of many similar arguments from an angst-ridden teen, but it was the last one before we woke to find our parents gone without a trace.
I closed my eyes and pulled the chain again. The sound of metal skids scrapping against sharp sandstone filled my ears. I can't blame her, I thought, to be honest, I blame myself too. The fact our parents left us behind caused both of us so much pain. I just hoped that if they were out there, that Mom and Dad at least thought about us a little bit. I wondered if they still loved us. Part of me thought no, otherwise they would have never left, but I had a hard time accepting that. There were too many years where they showed us just how much they cared for us to turn on us so easily. There had to be another reason they left.
I needed there to be another reason why.
"Just a little further," I said through gritted teeth.
"Yeah," T'tireva replied under her breath.
Nothing had to be said, but sometimes hearing a familiar voice was soothing. It was just the two of us and for that I was thankful. Because I had no idea if I could to do this alone.
Chapter 2
The Yard was nothing more than a garbage pit full of metallic pillars stretching towards the sky, some leaning heavily to one side or the other, yet surprisingly never falling. Metal was the most important commodity on this planet, or so I found out. The dry atmosphere served as a place for the Consulate Navy to store ships when not in use to keep them in pristine condition as they littered the landscape of Naxela. The capital planets stayed clear of the unsavory scene of grease-laden industrialism. This was not a place for the elite, but the scum of the System. Naxela was where the bottom-feeders lived and where T'tireva and I now reluctantly resided with no way of going home. Gordus was the chief appraiser and owner of the Yard. He was also the only person I sort of trusted on this planet.
Gordus waited as he normally did, stretched across the sandstone with his scaly skin exposed to the two sons. He was unnaturally pale, which distinguished him from the others of his kind. Like us, he was an outcast, but life on Naxela was easier for him. At least he was not a refugee like T'tireva and me.
"I see your sled is full today," he said. His voice was soft and slithery when he spoke. He usually blinked three times after every sentence he said. At first, I found it unsettling, but I eventually grew use to it.
"Yes," I replied, "we found a new debris field not far from our last cache." It was all I could do to speak while trying to drag the heap onto the scale. My eyes burned from the sweat pouring down my face, and I felt a headache starting. I assumed it was because I was dehydrated, but there was nothing I could do about that now.
Gordus slid next to us and watched the digital readout climb higher as it weighed our heap. His diagonal eyelids widened as the numbers rose, and it looked as if he were holding his breath. "Impressive heap," he muttered once the numbers stopped. "Forty coin if you deduct the weight of the sled." His arms crossed over his chest when he spoke. It was his way of showing he refused to negotiate. I'd seen him do it hundreds of times, but it made me angry whenever he did it to us. I knew, based on the weight, that we should be able to fetch at least twenty more coin than he was offering.
"I thought your scale already deducted weight?" T'tireva snapped. Her irritated tone caught me off guard, even though I was used to it. She stared him down with a steely gaze. Her cobalt eyes dug into his for several seconds before he finally flinched and relented.
Gordus stifled a laugh and nodded his head. "I guess I forgot who I was dealing with, T'tireva. I'm sorry," he said as he sauntered over to the other side of the sled. My sister did not speak but glared at him with cold eyes. Sometimes I forgot she was younger than me by three years. "Fifty-three coin," Gordus said as he pointed upward as if he were proving a point. He was a sly devil, and I often wondered how many times he had short-changed us when we were first stranded on this planet. It didn’t matter now, though. He was the only person we could go to for money for scavenging items he could sell back to the Consulate.
"Sixty would be better," she said, as she extended her hand for the payment. She was not the patient one in our family, and I did not have to try too hard to figure out where she got her lack of patience from. She got her negotiation skills from Dad too.
Gordus looked down at his empty pockets and shrugged. "Let's go inside, shall we, I'll pay you there?"
T'tireva dropped her hand and nodded, "so long as the pay is right," she replied, her voice on the verge of threatening.
We followed Gordus into his hut which serviced as his office and his bedroom. It was made from baked sandstone and had windows, none without broken glass. It was a mess and smelled of stale biscuits and grease, but it was not entirely unpleasant. While there was no denying it was in need of some deep cleaning, Gordus’s home was at least his alone and was nowhere near as dangerous as the cut out where T'tireva and I lived. His bedding lay strewn across the grit-marred floor. I could not imagine livi
ng like him. Not that our accommodations are all that pleasant either, I thought.
He took his place behind an old register and hammered onto the keys. Each one made a small ringing sound as he struck it. The smug expression on his face betrayed the fact he normally had a pleasant personality. He just had a way about him that few people took the time to understand, especially when it came to his business sense. It seemed selfish, but he believed in looking out for number one: himself. A few large coins rolled out from the top of the register when he was done and collected in a tray on our side of the counter. "Sixty coin. Not bad for a one-day heap, ladies."
I grabbed the coins from the tray and stuffed them into my pockets. "Thanks, Gordus. Will be back for our sled tomorrow," I said. I had no desire to wait around until dark for him to get around to unloading our sled. Besides, I was too tired after dragging it around all day long.
He smiled devilishly as we walked out of his hut to head home. The two suns were dropping fast over the horizon and we still had a hike in order to get home to the Attic. If ever there was a place to not roam after dark, it was the Attic. The stories floating around those parts were enough to turn your stomach.
"Walk swiftly," I said as we stepped past the gate. We might not agree on much, but when it came to our safety and how dangerous this area was at night, I knew T'tireva did not have to be told twice.
Chapter 3
The Attic was nothing more than a narrow alley carved into a mountain of sandstone. Where the name originated from was beyond me, but everyone knew what it was. The Alley was a place for the homeless and non-congenial of society. Essentially, it was a place for those without a place, for people like T'tireva and me, but it was all we had and it was scary as hell.
Dim lamps burned as we strolled past carve-outs. Each one rose above the ground a few feet before falling back behind a privacy wall. There was nothing to keep another person out of your carveout other than the unspoken code of honor often broken once the lights were extinguished. It made for a horrific existence, but it beat the alternative; imprisonment or death if you were found outside after curfew.
The curfew was in effect for all non-citizens of this world. Being found outside the Attic would bring punishment. I had no idea what the punishment would be for someone like T'tireva or me, and I was not eager to find out. As we approached, the tenants of the Attic welcomed us with their glares. I felt the trembling of my hands as we slowly walked into the dark recesses of the main corridor of the Attic. It was the first place you came to when entering and the last place you saw as you left, but it did little to prepare you for what waited inside.
I took a deep breath as we passed derelicts and addicts. The latter were the most dangerous people in the Attic, always looking for a fix or the means to afford it. T'tireva and I stayed close to one another, and I gripped the blade under my tunic. The handle was wrapped in surgical tape that was still sticky to the touch. I preferred it that way because it meant my sweaty palms would not cause me to drop it if I had to use it. I said a silent prayer as we walked, hoping to the gods that we would not come across anyone with ill intent. Our carve-out was close, but this part of the Attic was terrifying, even after all this time. What scared me most was that it did not matter if you were armed or not. The people willing to do harm to you did not care if they lived or died—they were just living in the moment and to hell with the future.
"Do you have any coin to spare, kid?" A disabled man asked. His crooked hand lifted towards us, shaking uncontrollably. His cold eyes were a piercing blue, and the folds of his wrinkles made him look like he was over a hundred years old. There was a stench to his breath I could smell from several feet away, but I could not tell if it was the smell of the rotting teeth in his mouth or if it was something that he'd consumed. Either way, it made my eyes water.
"Eyes forward," I whispered to T'tireva. My heart was racing and my hands were clammy. I could feel the trembling in my legs as I took each step forward. I wanted to run. I wanted to flee and to not be followed by the people who are watching us. He may have been alone, but he could also be trying to distract us so someone could approach us from behind. I had to avoid his stare and keep going. I could not afford to fall victim to his tactic, whatever it was.
"I asked you a question," he said as he raised voice angrily. His voice showed a strength that betrayed his frail stature and the sound reverberated of the high, sandstone walls. The echo of his voice felt like it was wrapping around us, blanketing us in its vile report. What was worse was that I could still smell the revolting odor from behind me.
"Keep walking," I said, my voice shaking from fear and my heart pounding in my ears.
"I am," T'tireva replied. There is no sarcasm in her voice, just the sound of fear that mirrored my own.
We kept walking, hearing the man rant behind us, but not drawing any closer. I knew there could be a trap ahead, it was something I had seen countless times and avoided even more than that. All it took was one coin placed into the hand of the right person, and we would be robbed. Showing that you had something to lose made you more vulnerable to lose it. That was just how things were in the Attic and it did not matter that it was wrong. T'tireva and I saw it happen time and time again in the Attic. That was why we hoped beyond anything for our parents to return and save us from the hellish nightmare we had to endure.
Unfortunately, that hope waned with each passing day. It broke my heart to know Mom and Dad were out there somewhere and could not find it in their hearts to come back for us. The only thing worse than their not wanting to come back for us would be if they were not able to come because they were dead. The finality of that thought brought me to the verge of crying. But as we walked through the Attic, with fear lapping at our heels, I had to focus on getting us to our carve-out. I can’t think about what we have lost, I thought, I can only think about staying alive.
Chapter 4
The deeper we went into the Attic, the darker it got, and the more my fear threatened to paralyze me. The fear itself I was used to, but the premonition that something bad was about to happen was new. I sensed something was wrong, but I could not put my finger on it. Suddenly, like some kind of nightmare, I felt large, cold hands cover my face. My body clenched as the hands pulled me back, and I watched in the darkness as T'tireva struggle to fight back against her own oppressor. Our captors were bigger than us and very strong. My blade, held securely in its sheath, posed no more of a threat to my scaly-skinned assailant than it did to the wind. For all intents and purposes, there was no sense in fighting. Given our exhaustion, it was a losing battle.
"No." I tried to scream, but the large hands over my mouth made it so my voice barely sounded above an awkward whisper. I imagined this moment many times in my dreams, waking in a cold sweat drenched in the darkness as I returned from the nightmare of my dreamlike world to that of my reality. In these dreams I woke up, but what happens when you are already awake and going through such a horrific experience? What happens when it’s not a dream?
Nothing good.
"Shut up," he hissed. His hot breath fell on the back of my neck and burned like steam. "If you try to scream again, we will pull the flesh from your sister’s body. Do you understand?" His voice was low but powerful, and I had no doubt he would carry out with his threat.
I nodded nervously. I tried to get my eyes on T'tireva, but her captor held her out of view. It was a matter of seconds before I felt my arms bound behind me and a dark hood draped over my head. At that moment, my entire world became darker than ever "T'tireva," I whispered, hoping that she could hear me and take comfort in the fact she was not alone. I could only hear muffled grunts before the man behind me pulled me close, gripping my arms tight.
"One. More. Word," he warned, before he loosened his grip on my upper arms and shoved me forward. I tried not to imagine how much worse this night was going to get if we could not get away. But with no more fight left in me, I decided to reserve my strength for later in hopes that we would be
in a better position to fight, but hope was an elusive thing in the Attic. I could only hope that we made it to where we were going in one piece instead of being cut to bits by these monsters. With one foot in front of the other, I whispered a silent prayer. “By the gods,” I started to say, before realizing I was sending my words to careless, deaf ears. If the gods truly existed, I would not have lost my family on this terrible planet and I would not be in the position I was in now, I realized. Any sense of hope I may have found before deflated like a balloon.
"Where are you taking us?" I asked. The rapid beating of my heart betrayed my defiance, causing my voice to quiver.
"Did I say you could speak?" The man snarled. I could not help but feel I was rattling the cage of a wild beast.
"My sister asked you a question." T'tireva said. I could tell she was trying to support me, to show that we were a team and not just two lost girls on an unforgiving planet, but what if we were making things worse for ourselves by speaking? What if we were sealing our fate by feigning bravery in the depths of trepidation?
There was a moment of silence before the man spoke again. "I heard it, and if I hear another word from either of you, I'm going to cut both of your tongues out. Understand?"
Unfortunately, I understood all too clearly: T'tireva and I were going to die.
Chapter 5
The smell of mold met my nostrils as we were led into a cold, damp room. I could hear T'tireva's small steps behind me, the shuffling of her feet causing a light echo in the narrow corridors. My captor’s hand reached out and stopped me, causing T'tireva to bump into me, and I was relieved to know they had not separated us, at least not yet. Two hands shoved me back and down onto a stiff-backed chair. The sensation of falling back made me groan, but luckily the chair did not topple over. Instead, my body slumped into the seat, my legs relieved to no longer having to carry my weight. Though I was glad the hike was over, a new anxiety flooded into my mind. What was going to happen next?