by Orion, W. J.
“Really? Fantastic. I think that’s a great idea,” Knox said and took a bite.
“But… before I go, I need to be promised that I can stay at the tower. Not for long, of course. I’m just visiting. The city sounds pretty dangerous, and I want a safe place to stay at.”
She laughed. “Yeah it sure is dangerous. We don’t go anywhere alone.”
“Monoliths?”
“Yeah, never. Always in at least a pair. Too many people out to get us. Too many crabs too.”
“Are there a lot of crabs in the city? Is that why you guys have those weird cages around your cars?”
“Yeah,” Knox said, nodding. “Not as many crabs as there used to be, like during the main years of the war, but they’re still around. We took out a few just a month ago. Hit them with some old military hardware we have stockpiled as they patrolled downtown.”
“What, like rocket launchers?”
“Yeah, like rocket launchers.”
“That must have been scary,” Yaz said and took another bite of her lizard. I wonder if those were the crabs Trey worked with? Probably.
“You could say that. Crabs are scary, Yaz. Their energy guns are no joke. No joke. Cook you alive and leave nothing but a pile of ashes.”
“I’ve seen them up close. Killed one myself, once.”
Knox narrowed her eyes. “No joke?”
“Yeah. I was picking in the deep wastes out west of here and was attacked by one in an old high school. I got a rickety old stairwell to fall on top of it. Crushed it.”
“Whoa,” Knox said, sounding impressed. “So the rumors are true?”
“Rumors?” Yaz asked, surprised.
“Yeah. Most of the folks in this dump won’t stop talking about it. About you,” Knox explained.
“Huh. I didn’t know.” Yaz looked around at the people in the market, and wondered which of them had talked about her. The world felt small.
“Yeah well, people talk. You’re gonna have your own comic here, sooner or later. Congrats on the kill. You must be a helluva fighter.”
“I’m not a fighter. I run from all the trouble I see coming.”
“You think that makes you any less of a fighter? A proper warrior doesn’t get into every fight they can. They only get into the fights they need to, and do their best to make sure those fights are ones they can win, or are worth dying for.”
“Pick your battles?”
“Bingo,” Knox said. She stepped away and handed the lizard cook back the stick she’d eaten the grilled reptile off of. She returned, wiping the corners of her lips.
“So how do I go about getting the A-okay from the Baron? Do I write him a letter? Can you talk to him on my behalf?”
Knox laughed. “Sure, Yaz. I’ll talk to him. I’m gonna warn you though; he always asks for two things from anyone who wants in. Always.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“First, you gotta show the Monoliths that you’re an asset. He’ll want you to do something to show you have a skill that will contribute to our tribe. Cooking, cleaning, hunting, scavenging, sewing, something. He’ll ask you to show a skill or the ability to learn one. We don’t suffer dead weight.”
“Easy enough. I’m useful.”
“And second, he’ll ask you to give something to the community as a gesture of good faith. Bring something to invest in us, and we’ll invest in you.”
“Like a gift? Could I just bring in the toaster you traded me the other day?”
Knox laughed. “Yeah, that could be a suitable gift. I might bring something a little more robust, however.”
“I’ll bring a few slices of bread too. And that’s all just to stay there a few days?”
“Yeah but once you’re in, you’re in for good. Our tower, Yaz… It’s a special place. Safe. There’s food, water, peace and quiet. We have rules, and people follow them. The crabs don’t attack us anymore either, and the Station doesn’t allow visitors, so it’s where everyone wants to be. Can’t just let anyone in.”
“Okay. How do I show him I can be an asset?”
“I dunno. Think about what you’re good at. I’ll get word back to him you’re looking to visit, and we’ll see what he comes up with,” Knox said. “He’ll have an idea. He’s… clever like that.”
“Should I be worried?”
She shrugged. “Maybe. He’s asked people to do stuff that led them to danger. Some have died. But… when you say you’re a fighter, you gotta prove it. And we all know you can’t win every fight.”
“Right. There aren’t enough stairwells out there for me to be the warrior I could be; The Amazing Captain Stairwell. Well, if you can look into it, I’d really like that,” Yaz said.
“Consider it done. I’ll let you know what I hear as soon as I hear it.”
“When might that be?”
“We radio in to the tower at sundown,” Knox answered.
“You guys have radios? Like, for music?”
“No, we use old fire truck and cop car radios. CB’s I think they’re called. The signal is weak out here, but it gets the job done more often than not.”
Yaz was nervous, but couldn’t figure out why.
Chapter Twenty-Six
…But What if Entry is Free?
Yasmine awoke with the rising sun the next day. Her body ached and her head pounded; she had talked to Trey again at 3:33 in the morning for an hour and change, and to make matters worse, she hadn’t drank nearly enough the day before. Dehydration and fatigue brought on by night after night of texting with the captive in the city had caught up to her.
On the side of her new bed, in her new apartment, she sat and drank a whole battered plastic bottle of water. She remained there, head propped up by her hands until the water swept the majority of the headache away. When she stood, the warmth of the day had already started to slip through the gaps of the heavy curtains on the windows, and the small apartment felt uncomfortable.
Her basement never got warm.
Yaz got dressed in the cooler, darker bathroom while music from her mom’s phone played. She kept the volume low so anyone in the hall, or possibly below her wouldn’t hear it. Having electronics that played music wasn’t uncommon in some Shant homes, but Yaz didn’t have anything in the apartment she could pawn the playing of the music off on. She had to get a stereo from somewhere to cover for the phone, if anyone came into her place.
Yaz tucked her knife into her boot, and slung her backpack over her shoulders before heading to the door. She didn’t bring the halligan tool with her when she didn’t plan on leaving Shant. Plus, she reasoned, if Shant were attacked, her fireman’s tool wouldn’t mean much in a fight. Maybe she was wrong.
She scooped up a battered but sealed can of expired peaches to eat later, and departed to head downstairs to say hi to Kim.
She returned for the halligan.
Because maybe she was wrong.
Kim wasn’t home, and neither were the boys. Yaz vowed to head to the market to help Brent at the stall for the umpteenth day, and hoped to see the family on the way.
She skittered down the steps, two at a time in places, eager for fresher air, and the blue sky. When she pulled the blanket door on the first floor open, she nearly tumbled to the sidewalk. Someone stood right there.
Yaz’s down-the-stairs momentum pushed the person in the doorway aside and sent her into the covered street of downtown Shant.
“Hey!” she exclaimed. “Who stands in a door like that?”
“I’m Bernie. You don’t remember me?”
She circled the man in the doorway, expending the momentum and finally strode to a slow walk, heading back towards the creepy Monolith. She came to a stop several feet away and surveyed him. He’d donned a heavy leather jacket adorned with stitched-on heavier leather panels, and had a hat Yaz recognized as one people who went fishing wore. The high collar of the jacket covered the ugly scar on his neck. He had to be burning alive under all that dead cow.
“I remember you. What ar
e you doing here?” Yaz asked him.
“This is where you live,” he said, as if it were the most obvious possible answer.
“Why are you where I live, Bernie?”
“Because you got the go-ahead to come with us to the tower.”
“Yeah?” Yaz said, a smile spreading on her face. “What do I have to do to prove myself? What gift do I need to bring?”
“Nothing,” Bernie said, but it sounded almost like a grunt.
“You sound frustrated?”
“Wrong word. Confused.”
“Confused by what?”
He huffed half a laugh. “No one gets in the tower without some kind of gauntlet to run, and gift given. It’s our way.”
“I’ll bring a gift. I’ll take the test. What do I need to do?”
“No,” he said, and shook his head. “You get to pass ‘Go’ and collect your $200.”
“What?”
“An old expression. We leave at sundown for the city. Have whatever you want to bring with you, and meet us at our house,” he said, and turned to walk away.
“Wait,” Yaz pleaded. He stopped. “Do I… wait. Are you coming back soon? Are you leaving again soon? Is this my last chance to go?”
He shrugged as if thinking about it made him weary.
“Really? Nothing? You’re just not gonna answer?”
“We come and go every few days. You know this. I know you watch us move. You’re welcome to leave with us tonight, or wait a couple days for us to return. No skin off my back, whatever you decide.”
“Okay. Is there anything I should bring?”
“Anything you think you’ll need,” he answered.
“Do you ever answer straight?”
“Only when the Baron asks.” They stared at each other until Bernie started talking again. “Don’t expect to be fed. Don’t expect to be armed. Don’t expect to be safe between this shithole’s gates and the parking garage under the tower. Don’t trust anyone you don’t already trust, until you know you can trust them, okay?”
“That’s much more helpful, thank you.”
“Whatever,” he muttered, and turned to leave again.
“Wait. One more question,” Yaz pleaded, stepped forward and almost grabbed his arm. He stopped and looked over his shoulder at her. “Do you have any idea why he didn’t want a gift from me, or to put me through one of his tests?”
“The Baron has a plan for you.”
“What plan?”
“I don’t know the plan, kid. I just know he doesn’t do anything like this unless he has a damn good reason. He’s not stupid, he’s not impulsive. He’s not who you think he is.”
“Should I be scared?”
Based on how his face got squished up Yaz concluded the question befuddled the burnt man. He tried to reply, but in the end, just shrugged his shoulders again. He left her standing under the canopy over the street.
Before she made her decision, she had to find the Murdoughs.
And also decide if she was afraid.
“Things like this will take much longer now,” Trader Joe said to Brent at the family’s business in the garage. “I’m having to range further and further out for the most basic supplies.”
“Yeah,” Brent agreed. “Between you and Yasmine everything that’s out there, is now here in Shant.” Brent sighed and took the canvas bag filled with loot from the tall, obscured scavenger and sat it on the table behind him. He saw Yasmine and waved. “Speak of the Devil.”
“Hey Brent, hey Joe,” Yaz said to them.
“Good morning,” Trader Joe replied.
“Funny thing about picking, Yaz, is that the better you get at it, the harder it gets.”
“True. Can I talk to you for a minute? I have a serious thing to talk about.”
Brent assessed her. Everyone was always assessing her.
“I’ll take my leave,” Joe said. “Always a pleasure doing business, Brent. Yasmine, it is nice to see you.”
“Wait,” Yasmine said, stopping him. “I think you should hear this. Well, I at least wouldn’t mind hearing your opinion.”
Trader Joe nodded his goggled head, and remained in place.
“I was invited to visit the tower.”
“Really?” Brent sat on his stool. “The one in the city? And you’re going to go?”
“I don’t know. I think so. I want to go to the city, but I’m nervous.”
“You should be nervous,” Joe said. “The city is a scary place. I don’t go there unless I must.”
“I’m not nervous because it’s the city. I’m nervous because the Baron is letting me right through his front door.”
Trader Joe cocked his head to the side. “That is curious. He apparently has a vetting process. He’s given you a pass then? Has he given you any inclination as to why he’s given you access to the tower so easily?”
“No, nothing.”
“He looked at you weird when he came here,” Brent said, his voice distant. “Like he recognized you. Took a shine to you for sure. Should’ve kept you away from him. Any chance he has a grudge against you? You ever steal something of his, maybe without knowing?”
“How would I know that I took something from him if I didn’t know it was him?”
“True. How would you get there?”
“I can ride in one of their cars.”
Brent sighed. “I guess that’s the safest way.”
“I believe you’re right,” Trader Joe said. “How long do you plan on staying there? Are you naïve enough to think that this will be a pleasant journey, for sight-seeing?”
“No,” Yaz said and rolled her eyes. “I have a friend in the city. I want to see him. And… I guess I just want to say I went there once.”
“They leave at sundown, yes?” Trader Joe asked.
“Yeah. I could leave with them tonight.”
“Kim will lose her mind,” Brent said. “I don’t like it one bit either, but… you gotta do it if you gotta do it. I won’t stand in your way.”
“I’d step around you anyway,” Yaz joked. “I won’t be gone long.”
“Are you planning on telling the boys?”
“No. I mean, this is no different than me going out on a picking run. Telling them I’m going into the city will just make them worry more.”
“Are you asking me to cover for you with my wife and kids? You got shady, girl. Shady. Putting a man in such a position,” Brent said with a laugh.
“It’s not lying. It’s just… not sharing the whole story.”
“Like, being selective about what’s private, and what’s a secret?” Brent asked her.
“Call it a learning curve. I’m going to pack and get ready to be gone for a few days. Thanks for listening. Wish me luck.”
“Indeed,” Trader Joe said. “Good luck to you.” The lanky wanderer backed away, and let the shopkeeper and his quasi-adopted child speak in private.
“I’ll see you before you go?” Brent asked her.
“Sure. I’ll stop back here before closing.”
“You better.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Just the Once
I don’t know if you’re awake or not, but I’m heading into the city later today.
I’m scared, but excited.
Seriously?
You’re awake!
I am, are you sure about this? What’s going on?
I’ve made friends with some Monoliths, and they got me an invite to the tower, so I’m coming.
An invite? Specifically, a personal invitation?
Yeah. Brent thinks he took a shine to me.
What’s a shine? You know what, never mind.
Don’t come.
Don’t. Something’s not right.
Trey… calm down.
I’m deadly serious. If he gave you a free pass, he’s got some kind of ill plan for you.
I don’t know. I think he’s not the guy people think he is.
Yasmine, I’ve heard him talk a hundred times
here in the tower.
He’s not a hero.
He’s not a villain either.
The difference in those two choices is perspective.
Yeah, well. Whatever. I’m heading your way. Maybe I’ll rescue you, maybe I won’t.
I thought you’d be more excited.
It’s not that… I just… the idea of being rescued doesn’t seem important if it means you get hurt.
I’m torn.
Don’t get hurt for me. I don’t think I could live with myself if you got hurt for me.
I get to make that choice. I’ll see you soon.
I… hope so.
She had everything. Enough, at least.
Yasmine undertook the preparation for the city trip as if she were going deep into the western wastes on a picking run. She brought four days of compact food, her knife, halligan, empty pistol, solar cell, a dozen recharging batteries for her mom’s phone (all charged, across the board) several changes of clothes for heat and cold, wires, tools, lights, and anything she might need to get in, or out a jam.
Also water. Always water.
Yaz slipped out of the apartment building at the evening meal. She lingered in the hall outside the door of the Murdough’s home and listened to them as they talked over the simple but satisfying meal she knew they shared. The sound of the boy’s laughter mingling with that of their parents made her long for childhood. Made her long for a different childhood. She wrapped her arms around her torso and closed her eyes. She could pretend her mom was hugging her if she did that.
Her hand came free, and went to the door to knock, but stopped. She couldn’t do it. Couldn’t say goodbye.
Before she started to cry, and waste water again, she bolted down the stairs, and into the night of Shant.
The desert climate of the dry world made the hot days erode into frigid nights. People would leave their shelters during the day, covered in linens and wraps to shield themselves from the sun, but as day gave way to night those thin coverings provided no protection from the dry, cold air. The world was better once. Not like this. Not parched, and fragile like the people who lived on it.
As the sun set she strode through the outskirts of the downtown. Yasmine watched her exhalations condense into tiny clouds of wasted moisture in the night air.
