by Greg Hanks
“How?” she yelled.
“I used the elevator,” V’delle said nonchalantly.
The woman kicked V’delle’s leg. “Piss off! How’d you find it?”
“Your friends upstairs helped me.”
“You . . . did you hurt them?”
V’delle paused. “No . . .”
“Did you kill them?” The pistol barrel touched V’delle’s nose.
“No! Didn’t I just say they helped me?”
“Get up, bitch,” the woman said. She grabbed V’delle by the collar and pulled.
V’delle assaulted the woman’s wrist with her prosthetic hand and the pistol dropped. A quick knee to the stomach, a reversal of body weight, and the woman had replaced V’delle on the floor.
“Now who’s the bitch?” V’delle said. She aimed the pistol at the woman’s face.
She spit at V’delle.
V’delle raised her pistol to bring it down, but the adjacent door opened, and three men ran inside. It was a standoff. Three assault rifles to her one pistol. The center man with a missing eye stepped forward. Thick nose, scars across his mouth like barb to a wire, and dirty blonde hair down to his waist.
“Ah, the Preen’ch,” he croaked. “Better drop it. You don’t want to leave your kutt all alone, do you?”
“Gonna chop us up?” V’delle asked.
“You killed two of my best men. Rodder and Ferlyle. That’s who you killed. You came into our city and killed two of us. Rodder had a kid.”
“You’re the ones who trashed our bike. We were only passing through. I’m glad I killed them.”
The man’s neck flexed, and his jaw clenched. “Zicke. The hell is a Preen’ch and a kutt doing in Berlin?”
“Passing through,” she said, exaggerated.
“Keiver!” the woman yelled in annoyance, struggling underneath V’delle.
“All right, all right,” Keiver said. “Drop the pistol, girl.”
V’delle knew it was over. She lowered her gun. She couldn’t move fast enough to grab her rifle, either.
The woman wiggled free. Once standing, she punched V’delle in the face hard enough to draw blood. V’delle spat to the floor. The woman giggled.
“All right, Ferret?” said Keiver to the woman.
Ferret stood proudly above V’delle. “I want this one.”
“Best just to trash her.”
“No,” Ferret said, smiling. “I’m taking her. She’s gonna be my little pet. You’ll fetch my food and bring me water. How’s that sound? Pet?”
V’delle scoffed.
“Ferret,” Keiver urged. “I don’t think people’ll like this—”
“I’m their ruler, am I not?” Ferret said, eyes stricken with yellow. Her face changed from vindictive to embarrassed curiosity. “How . . . is everyone?”
Keiver sighed. He opened his mouth to speak, but one of the men behind him grabbed his chin and slid a blade across his throat.
Ferret screamed in rage. V’delle grabbed the pistol in Ferret’s hand and shot both nameless guards just as they fired back. A flam of bullets. V’delle tried to dodge, but something hot and violent struck her shoulder. Caustic, electric fire, pulsing down her arm, up her neck. The familiar piercing of a bullet.
Before reacting to the wound, she pivoted on her hip, aiming at Ferret.
“No!” Ferret screamed. “No! No! No!”
V’delle fired at the ceiling before Ferret could rush to Keiver’s body.
“Hold on, dipshit,” V’delle said, pulling herself up, her unaffected arm holding the pistol steady. “What the hell just happened?” Blood seeped through her suit’s synthetic material.
“Let me see him!” Ferret yelled.
“He’s gone. Maybe you should be more concerned about the ones who almost killed us.”
Ferret collapsed to her knees and put her head in a hand vice. She bellowed behind clenched teeth. “Not now. Please. Not now.”
“Bring me something for the wound,” V’delle said. “Now, pet.”
Ferret gave V’delle a defeated, vicious look. “Just kill me. They’re gonna do it anyway. I’m not gonna help you. So just do it.”
“Fine, I’ll kill you after you tell me where my friend is.”
“I don’t know! They took him.”
“So you’re the leader here and you don’t even—”
“Was. Was the leader.”
Impatient rage and a burning shoulder made V’delle cross the room and swipe Ferret’s jaw with the butt of her pistol. Ferret fell back on her palms, looking up at V’delle with deranged vulnerability.
“Get something for this wound!” V’delle yelled.
Ferret twitched and blinked. She crawled over to one of the corpses, eyes flicking to Keiver. She patted down their uniforms and unraveled pockets.
“Nothing. There’s nothing.”
“Rip off pieces of their clothes. The pants. Then you’re going to get this bullet out of my shoulder.”
Ferret recoiled, snorting. “I’m not doing that.”
“Yes, you are. Bring those strips.”
“Some Preen’ch you are,” Ferret mumbled.
“Yeah, and some leader you are. What kinda name is ‘Ferret’ anyways?”
“You don’t understand shit,” Ferret said. She gathered the strips of clothing and brought them over to V’delle.
“Set them there,” V’delle said, nodding to the floor. “Now take your fingers and pull it out.”
“My fingers? Are you insane, bitch?”
“It didn’t penetrate that far. Do it.”
“I’m not getting your blood all over my hand!”
“Oh, so you’ll cut people up into parts, but you’re scared of a little blood? The hell is wrong with you?”
“This isn’t how you do it,” Ferret said, readying her hand.
“Oh, really?” V’delle said, dumbly.
She clenched her teeth, made sure the pistol was pointed at Ferret’s head, and braced her back against the concrete wall.
Ferret’s fingers plunged into the wound. Gushy, juicy sounds played as Ferret twisted and felt for the bullet. V’delle’s legs spasmed. She forced out several hoarse grunts. The pain intensified as Ferret went deeper.
“I can’t feel anything,” Ferret complained.
“Keep looking!” V’delle gasped.
The micro-rummaging continued. V’delle bowed her head. Little chirps of exhaustive pain. A bellow of excruciation.
“There!” Ferret exclaimed and withdrew her fingers.
Like a bomb’s crater, V’delle emerged from the sphere of pain feeling hollow, but refreshed. Gasping and fighting off shivers, she saw the tiny metal dome between Ferret’s pointer finger and thumb.
“Good,” V’delle breathed, panting and sweating profusely. “Now wrap . . .”
“What?” Ferret asked.
“The strips. Wrap my arm. Around the armpit. Do it . . .”
Ferret grabbed strips one by one and encircled V’delle’s armpit and shoulder. Each new strip brought pressure, tightness, and pain. The security was worth it. After the final strip, Ferret tied off the tourniquet and sat back. V’delle sighed and slouched against the wall.
V’delle’s eyes flickered. The exhaustion tried to take her. Now she really needed to find Balien; his shell had Hayla and Rosalie’s salve and the sealing bandages.
Ferret reached for V’delle’s pistol, but V’delle raised it to Ferret’s face at the same time.
“Some Preen’ch, huh?” V’delle said.
“Ugh, you idiot!” Ferret shouted out of frustration. “They’re just gonna come and kill us both anyways. Just give me it now or kill me already!”
“Here’s a better idea: how about you tell me what’s going on?”
“Why?”
“Just tell me, goddamnit.”
Ferret grimaced and shook her head. Her eyes stared blankly at the wall. “I was made our leader last week. Brand new. I took over when our old boss died. Half of
‘em wanted a guy named Turlio instead of me. He’s behind all this.”
“You didn’t see it coming?”
“He was the one who told his followers to get behind me. He always said he wanted order and that his time would come eventually. He was . . . always nice to me. That good enough for you?”
“Are more coming?”
“Hell if I know.”
“What about your supporters? Won’t they help?”
“Probably dead or turned sides. It’s all gone. Everything. Keiver . . .” Her eyes began to glint. “I’ve gotta go. I need to leave. I need to go.”
V’delle stood. “You’re gonna take me to the Khor’Zon.”
Ferret looked long and hard at V’delle. “You’re going to die.”
“How many people live here?”
“That’s my point.”
“But do all of them have weapons? Keiver said one of those guys had a kid. Do the kids know how to fight? How to kill?”
“When they’re smart enough to deceive us. That’s usually when we know they’re ready.”
“I doubt all of you have weapons.”
Ferret looked defeated. She was biting her cheek, furious and exhausted.
V’delle faced Ferret while detaching her shell. She demagnetized her pistol’s suppressor and placed it inside, then resumed aim. She rifled through the contents, eventually finding a small, porcelain white acorn device. Ferret watched intently.
When V’delle held the acorn device to her shoulder, Ferret made a noise.
“Why’d you make me do all that!” she said.
“To keep you busy,” V’delle said. The pain in her shoulder ceased. She reattached her shell and went to pick up her rifle. “Get up. We’re going to get that Khor’Zon.”
“You’re not Preen’ch, are you?”
“I told you to get up.”
Ferret’s vicious eyes instantly changed to wondrous and hopeful. “Wait!” She grabbed on to V’delle’s wrist. “You could help me! You could help me get control again. We could kill Turlio. Please!”
V’delle yanked away her hand. “I don’t give a shit about your problems. Now get up.”
“I can fix your bike,” Ferret said, realizing the power it gave her well-after saying the words. “Wherever you’re going, I bet it’s far. You help me kill Turlio, I’ll fix your bike.”
V’delle pinned Ferret to the floor with her metal hand. “The only reason I’m keeping you alive is because you know the way to the Khor’Zon. I don’t need you for anything after that. We’ll find our own way.”
“It was the whole reason people don’t like me!” Ferret exclaimed desperately. V’delle squinted, confused. “Maybe I’m not an angel, but I’m trying to run this place with some shred of dignity. I didn’t order them to hit you on the street. I opposed it. But they did it anyway. It was Turlio’s men.”
“I’m not about to help a bunch of disgusting cannibals.”
“What does that have to do with this? Why do you care? Food’s hard to come by; we’re not going to live in one of your bullshit kutt Cities.”
“And the drug addicts?”
“They’re my friends, no, my family. Turlio wants to kill them off. I can’t do that. Please. I’m sorry I punched you. I’m sorry they took your friend. Let me help you find him, and you can help me on the way.”
V’delle searched Ferret’s grimy face. What was the right move here? Ferret could not be trusted. The second V’delle looked the other way, Ferret could bludgeon V’delle’s head. But they needed transportation. And she needed a guide to Balien.
“You’re gonna move in front of me,” V’delle said, easing back. “My pistol’s gonna be pointed at the back of your skull the whole time.”
“Look, whatever your name is,” Ferret said, “I’m serious when I say I want Turlio gone. I’d do anything. I have no reason to do anything to you once he’s gone. You won’t believe me, but it’s true. I’m not going to screw you.”
“Your skull would be so thankful if that were all true. Get up.”
V’delle underhanded Ferret’s armpit and lifted. With the cold barrel of a Khor’Zon pistol pressed against Ferret’s shaven head, they walked toward the door through which Keiver had come. Ferret looked at her friend’s body as they passed.
“Why Berlin?” Ferret asked quietly.
“Doesn’t matter. Move.”
“Yeah, you’re definitely not a normal Preen’ch.”
“And it looks like you’re not a human who cares that aliens have taken her planet.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? You think I like eating people?”
Ferret opened the door.
“Why haven’t you tried joining the Calcitra?”
Ferret gave a dubious noise. “What are you talking about? Calcitra? There’s no Calcitra for miles that have any sense of warfare. Are you mental? It’s either this or slavery.”
“You just told that man you wanted me as a pet.”
“I’m not gonna pretend I’m a good person. I’m not gonna be a slave to a bunch of kutts, but I’ll sure as hell take one.”
“You’re a piece of shit. Move.”
Another corridor. Plastered walls and hanging banners with hand-drawn ferrets. Low hanging pipes whining. Tink. Tink. Tink. The distant clanking sound from before filtered through the hallway, clearer than before. V’delle pulled Ferret to a stop.
“What’s that noise?” she asked.
“Huh? The pipes?”
“No, that metal noise. Sounds like someone’s banging a hammer.”
Ferret tilted her head, trying to listen. “I don’t hear anything.”
The sound had gone. She pushed Ferret forward.
The building’s lobby lay on the other side of the next door, a massive chamber with two staircases curving up to a second floor. They walked out of the maintenance alcove behind one staircase and crept to the curved bannister. The floors and walls gave new meaning to the word “grime.” Where was the original floor? Was it tile? V’delle couldn’t tell between the layers of cardboard, particle board, pallets, papers, and sheets of tarpaulin and cloth. The walls and pillars held effigies made from balled-up clothing tied with waxen cords. White drawings, black streaks. Wooden apparatuses nailed and bound to the front pillars, little lookout stands with vacant chairs. Shopping carts and emptied metal book trollies. Boarded windows. Dark corners. An immense chandelier hung in the center of the room, rigged and fastened with chains, boards, and railings to create a grand lookout on which two soldiers were sitting and talking.
“Wait,” Ferret whispered, scanning the room.
“Where is everyone?” V’delle whispered back.
It seemed Ferret wondered that, too.
“Which way?” V’delle urged.
“Across the lobby. There’s a door that leads to the pens.”
“Anything other than that chandelier going to shoot us?”
“Our only security system is linked to the doors and windows, and Turlio’s men could be anywhere. Those two up there will radio upstairs if anything happens.”
V’delle sighed. “Okay. We’ll move underneath them.”
“Wait,” Ferret said. “Why don’t we pretend that I captured you and am taking you to a cell?”
“I’m surprised you’re so goddamn stupid.”
“It’s a good idea.”
“You just said they would radio upstairs if anything happens. Doesn’t Turlio want you dead?”
“They’re not with him. I know them. They’re my guys.”
“Yes, you seemed extremely perceptive back when those other two guys killed your friend.”
Ferret toughened. “But I didn’t know they’d already started a goddamn mutiny, did I? Those other two were Turlio’s men. These guys, they’re mine. I know them, trust me. They just sit and play cards all day.”
V’delle investigated the chandelier lookout. She played out both scenarios; walking underneath silently without recourse or letting Ferret tote her
around as if their positions were reversed. Both ideas were pretty shit.
“No,” said V’delle. “If you know them, then they’ll have no problem accepting me like you have.”
Ferret cursed and V’delle pushed her forward.
They started walking across the lobby floor, slowly. V’delle held the pistol to Ferrets lower back. Small voices echoed above. One of them shifted in his seat. A head poked over the chandelier railing.
“Ferret?” he asked. “Hey, look, it’s the boss.”
Ferret didn’t look up, but waved. “Found the kutt’s friend. Gonna take her to the pens. Back to work, gents.”
“You sure you wanna do that?” said the second, leaning his arms over the railing and resting his chin in them. Ferret and V’delle stopped. “I hear Turlio’s started some kind of revolt.” A flicker of sugar in his speech. “Heard somethin’ about this Preen’ch.”
“We’ll find some way to curb him,” Ferret said.
“Mm,” the guard said, turning to his companion. They mumbled something to each other. He returned. “Hey, how come you never remember our names?”
Ferret gave them a dubious look. “What?”
Without moving, V’delle readied her fist to activate her shield.
“How come you never remember our names? Simple question. I mean you see us practically every day.”
“I . . .” For a split second, it was as if Ferret was going to try and fake her way through it. “I’m sorry. I should have remembered them. It is awful. I am truly sorry. What are your names?”
The guard sucked in disappointedly. “You see, that isn’t gonna work with us. Since you’ve been put in, it’s all been a bunch of talk, but nothing’s been done about it. You leaders are all the same; you make us sit up here all day and night, but don’t have the sympathy to remember a name.”
“I’ve been very busy,” Ferret said, restrained.
“And we haven’t? You get a nice throne room, get to command people around, and we get to play cards, guarding a door that no one will ever breach.”
“Look, I promise to—”
