Fire, Ruin, and Fury (Embers Saga)

by Matthew Taylor

  “If there is another rupture coming, it’s hard to say how the Ellies will react. During the first bend of the Great Spiral, the Ellie families pulled together to form the Commonwealth. They eventually pulled through the water wars too. Their grand bargain has nearly come undone from their infighting or natural disasters many times before. Who’s to say they won’t come together this time?” Joshua wasn’t even convincing himself.

  Jasmine intimated that their relationships with the Ellies, regardless of the tensions between the Ellies, might also protect the family. But the more she explained her association with the Templetons, and Alias’ move to live with Rashid in the Nautilus, the more disconcerted Joshua became.

  “Setting aside the opportunity this gives the Ellies to put a wedge in the family, a lot now depends on how much leaks out about the church’s association with the Consortium and the Gang of Seven. The rivalries among the Gang of Seven members are one thing, but the rivalries they each have with other Ellies and foreign powers complicates this even more. If Carroll can’t manage the Big Five, that’ll spell trouble. If an Ellie family with a grudge against any of them—or the Chief Regents—finds out and decides to use it to embarrass their enemies, that would cause problems, and you are the most expendable asset in the whole arrangement.”

  Joshua’s expression was grave as he passed glances to the stunned faces of Emily and Nessa, who clearly couldn’t believe what Joshua’s former family had gotten themselves into.

  “At least they hired Farid Sherman to give us some security,” Alias said, hopefully.

  “With this whole thing being secret,” Joshua answered, “it makes sense that the Ellies would hire a mercenary to provide security. I don’t doubt that Sherman’s got the capability—and the ruthlessness—to do what’s necessary. Could be that things are getting worse again, and the Ellies just want extra muscle to protect their investment in the church. Could also give the Big Five, the ones who can’t be bribed, second thoughts.”

  Alias and Jasmine looked encouraged, until Joshua let out a reluctant sigh and continued.

  “That said, if there’s trouble ahead, Sherman’s presence is a good bellwether for that. He’s also a murderer, a sellsword, and a thug. You shouldn’t place a drop of confidence in his commitment to your safety.”

  Nessa then reached over and put a hand on Joshua’s forearm, taking the floor as she stared at GEO.

  “Joshua, look again at these church locations.” He leaned forward to see. “We have work sites in almost all of them? And near as I can tell, we’re building mini fortresses.”

  Joshua raised a curious eyebrow.

  Nessa let out a shallow sigh of exasperation. “And the Domestic Security Service is almost never there. Shay said Sherman is cutting most of the checks for the work, and our convoy guards are always Sherman’s. His men make all kinds of shipments into and out of the worksites. They even put their own cargo in our convoys. And there’re whole sections of the sites where workers aren’t allowed to go once they’re built. You can’t possibly think this is all a coincidence,” Nessa insisted.

  “Well, it does fit the definition of coincidence,” he said with a smirk.

  Nessa swatted his arm, half-playing. He then paused more thoughtfully and gazed at GEO, wishing they all weren’t staring at him so intently.

  “The migration thing looks bad, but that’ll prob’ly play out in the same horrible way it has before. The weapons and drugs, I hate to say it, sound almost business as usual. They’re just closer to it, as Alias said.”

  Then again, so are we, he thought to himself.

  “Are the Ellies up to something? They’re always up to something—just as often against one another as against the rest of us. Is the new church part of whatever it is? But there prob’ly isn’t a lot we can do about it now.”

  Alias fidgeted in his chair, uncomfortable with what he was hearing, and Joshua could sense the disappointment he was imparting on his one-time pupils. But the children he had helped raise were grown now and had made irrevocable decisions for themselves.

  The discussion had convinced him that an upheaval was coming—beyond the low-grade, day-to-day tragedies on the news. How it all might tie together was beyond him. He wasn’t sure how to guide Alias and Jasmine, and he was reluctant to try to reassure them, they way he had done so many times in their early lives on the road.

  Yes, horrible things are coming, but you’ll prob’ly be fine—despite your links to the Ellies—because you’re still a family of faith. It’s possible.

  Your deal with the Ellies’ll land you knee-deep in whatever comes next, but they’ll most likely shield you from the worst of it.

  You’ll be an integral part of whatever bloodbath and score settling that means. You may not live through it as a result.

  None of those choices struck him as acceptable things to suggest, except to repeat that there was nothing he could do.

  There was nothing he could say to make it less scary. “Everyone’ll just have to ride it out as best they can.”

  Somehow, his last utterance erected a barrier between Joshua and Alias and Jasmine. He could see that they understood his meaning. Everyone would just have to ride it out, and they would ride it out separately. Alias swallowed hard and proposed that Joshua come meet with his father and mother—to reconcile and consider options to help each other.

  Joshua drew a deep breath, blew it out in disappointment and frustration, and shook his head. These two were dear to him—and the idea was probably a good one—but the suggestion was ridiculous, and he felt his own petty sense of betrayal getting the better of him.

  Whose fault is this? And what in God’s name am I supposed to do about it?

  “Your folks will have to handle this for the family,” he said flatly. “I have responsibilities that require me to spend my energy elsewhere.”

  A pained silence fell over the table. He watched Alias and Jasmine stiffen at the rejection and start their formal and gracious farewells. Nessa stood as they got up to depart, pulling Joshua up from his slouch at the table. Joshua trailed Nessa and Emily in accompanying Alias and Jasmine to the door. While the goodbyes between his sister, niece, and godchildren were warm and appreciative, his own farewells were cold and melancholy. This departure seemed more permanent than the last. This time, Joshua felt no external event pulling them apart, but they were now—maybe forever—separated by a greater distance.

  Within minutes, Joshua found himself sitting beside Nessa in the two tattered armchairs of his small apartment. He drew a sip of Shay’s hooch from the plastic cup Nessa has given him before, passing it back to his sister, who took a larger gulp. Her hands felt warm and soft in his.

  “You know your paths will cross again, right?”

  Joshua’s eyes brimmed with tears at the overwhelming rush of sadness, fear, gratitude, and hope. He squeezed her hand in thanks, shot her a smile, and gestured for her to pass the cup.

  Chapter 23: The Lottery

  (Victoria Lancaster)

  Victoria Lancaster plopped down on the sofa by the window of the small apartment she shared with her mother. She thumbed the memory stick that Jasmine Goodwell had given her that afternoon. It was a gift she probably should have declined, with so many religious sects being banned for inciting revolution against the Commonwealth. The leadership of one of the Big Five churches had even been detained, reminding her that once she plugged it into her V-plat, she’d have to watch the Forbidden List closely, just in case Jasmine’s church was condemned. Even if she wiped her V-plat immediately after, she’d never have peace of mind that the data couldn’t be retrieved and used against her.

  Plus, she generally found religious Immersive Virtual Experiences to be tiresome.

  But it’ll give me something to talk about with Jasmine tomorrow, she figured. And I’ve got some time on my hands for once. …So unfair for mom to put me on restriction, bitch me out, and then go out to get laid herself. Then again, I’ve got the place to myself for once,
tomorrow off, and this IVE might be good after a few drags.

  She detached a small magnetic box from under her chair, took out her stash, and cracked open the window. The stale, hot night air flowed into the room, and she pulled out a little pipe, a bag of leaf, and a mini torch-lighter. She admired the orange embers engulfing the ball of weed as she drew on the pipe and blew the smoke out the window. She closed her eyes as the tension drained from her neck and shoulders. Her limbs became long and floppy. A luxurious, luminous haze filled her mind as she exhaled out the window and gazed into the darkness outside.

  It had started to feel to Victoria like every moment before they arrived had happened at night, and almost every moment since happened in the day. She released another drag from her lungs, recalling the improbable sequence of events that had landed her in this room, on this sofa, with a strange new life in Community Sector #7, Troy Township, Ozarks Province.

  Overjoyed—ebullient—she had leaned out of this very window with her mother and brother, gazing out over the rooftops after the township administrator led them to the plain cement tenement building. Her heart ached with relief when she read the sign “Community Sector #7” painted on the wall of the subdivision.

  Unlocking the door to their very own single-room dormitory apartment, they practically bowled over their chaperone in their excitement to get in. Though it was late, and they were all beyond tired, she jumped up and down in circles with her mother, Aunt Honey, and cousin Emily. She threw a hug around her brother, Uncle Christian, and even Shay, who was all smiles as he broke out a flask of his moonshine.

  They celebrated until almost dawn, when they couldn’t go on anymore. When it finally died down, and her extended family had left, she made her way into the bedroom she would henceforth share with her mother. She threw herself onto one of the plasti-foam mattresses, certain her pounding heart wouldn’t permit her a wink of sleep. But she was out in an instant and enjoyed the most restful sleep she could remember, even if was among the shortest.

  Too early the next morning, her mother roused her for work. Aunt Honey and Emily were waiting in the living room, where Paul was still groggily untangling himself from the sheets on the sofa bed. Emily, indefatigable, was beaming with their commissary passes in her grip, eager to take them to shop for Victoria’s first new clothes.

  They arrived just as the commissary opened, and the line to get in was long. The muggy summer heat was already stifling the marketplace, and the line was even longer to reach the folding tables with stacks of merchandise. The queue to check out was longer still. But as they filled their rusty cart and swiped their Commonwealth Commerce Cards—which worked—Victoria couldn’t believe her luck. She walked out with a bagful of treasure.

  Two pairs of clean, stiff denim coveralls;

  Two pairs of clean, stiff denim overalls;

  One pair of knee-length cargo shorts with detachable insect mesh stockings;

  Four beige button-down shirts, detachable cloth sleeves and insect mesh replacements;

  One sun hat, insect mesh rolled neatly up around the brim;

  One pair of polarized goggles;

  Five pairs of new socks;

  Underwear, both bras and panties, sized to fit;

  One pair of boots, properly refurbished and more comfortable than anything she had ever had;

  And one lightweight sundress, which struck her as an odd and not-very-sensible allocation, but she was smitten with its almost imperceptible floral design and faint new factory smell. She could barely wait to put it on back at the apartment, where she wanted to burn the few things she still owned from her life in Cali-Sur.

  As her mother passed their township credit over the reader to pay for the items, Victoria became aware of a previously unconscious shame melting off her, a tiny blossom of pride cautiously peeking through.

  As soon as they got back to their apartment, she donned her new dress, and grabbed Emily by the hand to visit Alias Goodwell and his security detail in the township infirmary. She felt a compelling impulse to show Alias, her family’s erstwhile benefactor, that his intervention on their behalf was not a wasted gesture. Though showing off a new dress hardly seemed an appropriate way to do it, she was determined to make up for wanting to leave him for dead. Showing herself clean and dignified, she figured, might give him some reassurance that she was worth the effort. Maybe that, and another dose of bountiful kindness, would help him forgive her—though he seemed to need no encouragement at all.

  Alias appeared sincerely happy to see Victoria done up, as she had hoped, though his eyes were more trained on Emily. His primary guard, a quiet and awkward young man named Ben, seemed nonplussed with the attention Alias Jr gave Emily, but that was no matter to Victoria. Any ill-will between her and Alias from the rescue had evaporated, and she soon found herself again focused on Alias’ more muscular and handsome mercenary—the one they called Nanner.

  Within half an hour, she had made off with him again, this time to a nearby janitorial closet. While she prayed that her mother, who also paid Alias and his crew frequent visits, wouldn’t catch them, she also relished the thrill. They returned to the group as stealthily as they could, and though the others pretended not to notice, they hadn’t fooled anyone. She snuck away with Nanner again an hour later, and though Emily departed for work, Victoria stayed with Alias, Nanner, and the others most of the day. It was nearly sunset when her mother arrived for her shift as a temp in the infirmary and sent her home.

  The next morning, the same township administrator who had given them their passes came to the door. He handed her mother a regular work permit and an assignment as a part-time nurse in the township infirmary. Nessa was affirmatively ecstatic, despite having to balance the shifts with her work as head nurse for Shay’s work sites. He then turned to Victoria and Paul, summoning them to the municipal building to take their core aptitudes test. The Commonwealth and most provinces had long abandoned their tests before she was born, but some townships had reinstituted testing to filter potential residents and place selectees in the vocations best suited to their skills, intelligence, and personality.

  Arriving at the seemingly ancient train station that now housed government offices, Victoria’s heart began to pound.

  Alias’s favors won’t matter much if we bomb this thing, she thought anxiously. What’ll they do to us if I’m not smart enough?

  Flashbacks to the dark days in Cali-Sur and the nightmarish trek through the Wilds made her palms sweat as she followed the administrator to a cubicle, where he gave her some cursory instructions, activated the V-plat, and promised to return in exactly three hours. If he noticed how nervous and unsettled she was, he didn’t let on.

  He’s prob’ly seen a thousand people like me, scared stiff and can’t even relate anymore.

  The holographic bust of Operetta flickered to life, and Victoria nearly cried as the administrator exited.

  Three hours later, on the dot, the administrator appeared again, stopped her test, and dismissed her to wait outside. Under the canopies at the entrance to the train station, she found Paul lounging in the shade with her mother. Instructed to wait in the plaza, they watched the citizens mill about on their various jobs and errands. They said little, consumed with worry, though Victoria secretly felt confident in her performance. It had always gone unsaid that she was smarter than Paul, so her principle worry was for him.

  When they were finally summoned back inside the station in turn for the results. They parted with Paul, as Nessa had chosen to accompany Victoria—a decision that struck Victoria as odd, given the likely results. Victoria could barely believe her ears—to the point that she wondered if she was so stupid that she didn’t even understand the outcome. But her mother was beaming beside her, and it began to sink in. She had been selected to “the Track”—the township’s program for gifted residents. If she did well during the probationary period, she was told, her residency permit would be made permanent. The Provincial Labor Council would offer her an apprentic
eship, leading to a career of what the administrator termed “first-tier” duties. Virtually no manual labor. A life free from the extreme heat and cold of outdoor work. A life free from blisters, sunburns, and aching muscles. Free from the ubiquitous dust, dirt, rats, and insects. Plus, extra shower rations—which itself sounded like Heaven. Once she was a permanent resident, the chances of her mother getting a permanent residency improved dramatically.

  Of course, there would be drudgery along the way. Like the other teenagers in the township, she would split her time each week between schooling, labor, and vocational work, and civil defense training. She’d have ten hours flex time each week, which she could sell to licensed companies, including her family’s contract at the nearby work site, though kids on the Track were discouraged from taking assignments beyond the township’s walls, much less beyond the township’s outer edge, where they were more likely to get hurt or kidnapped. She’d have one day off each week, although she would be expected to join youth projects—refurbishing tenements, patching cracks in irrigation pipes, repairing trails, planning emergency and evacuation drills, and the like.

  The administrator, in his first sign of warmth, offered his congratulations.

  You’re prob’ly worried I’ll be your boss someday, she caught herself scoffing. As he handed her a township wrist-plat and several data sticks—with instructions to study and memorize the content—she began to realize the gravity of her new station. She was in a daze when her mother led her out to the plaza, where they again found her brother, pale and troubled. Emily’s heart stopped at the sight of him.