The shocked young girl looked up at Abby, as if unsure what this meant. Abby gently shook the hat, gesturing for the girl to take it. She did, and as she set it on her head she broke out in a huge grin and Abby smiled back.
The mother and father thanked Abby again. They handed her a small piece of paper with an address scrawled on it, telling her that if she ever needed anything to come to them, that one day they’d pay her back for her generosity. But Abby just smiled at them, saying nothing, and headed home.
As soon as she got back to her apartment, Abby put away her food, which she guessed would last for at least a week depending on how much she ate. She tried to do a little exercise after a few minutes of sitting on her couch, but she could do very little, on account of her wound, so she eventually gave up on it. Instead, she decided to practice her fighting. She had not had the opportunity to do this since Zach’s death, so it sometimes took a while to recall exactly how to perform a certain technique.
Inactivity was already frustrating Abby. She felt like she was flooring the gas pedal of a car that was stuck in neutral. She wasn’t doing anything with her life these last couple of days, and she had no one to confide in, thanks to her crippled emotional state.
She needed something to do, something to occupy her time and her thoughts. For just a brief moment, she reconsidered Hector’s invitation to join his organization, but Abby quickly shoved that thought aside. That wasn’t her fight, and she would never make it hers. Hector did say, however, that he would find a normal job for her, if she so desired. Maybe it was time to take him up on that offer, even if she was still in rough shape.
She headed up to the next floor and walked down the hallway until she found the apartment right above hers. She knocked on the door and waited for only a few seconds before a surprised Hiamovi opened the door.
“Hey, Abby. What’s up?” he said.
“Is Hea… Heammaw… is your granddad home?” Abby asked, hesitating as she tried to correctly pronounce Hector’s Cheyenne name.
“Yeah. I’ll go get him,” Hiamovi replied, wearing an amused smile at Abby’s valiant effort to use his granddad’s real name. He left the door open as he disappeared down the hall, and a few moments later, Hector appeared in the doorway.
“Something on your mind, my dear?” he asked.
“I was wondering about that job you promised me,” Abby said.
Hector’s eyebrows arched up in surprise. “Already?” he asked. Abby nodded her head. “Are you sure you’re up for it?”
“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t,” Abby replied.
He nodded his head thoughtfully and said, “Alright. I’ll go and make the arrangements. I’ll be in touch with you later today to give you the details.”
“Thank you.”
“By the way, I believe I found something that belongs to you.”
Abby shot him an inquisitive glance as he reached into a closet next to the door and retrieved something wrapped in a cloth. “Yes, this is definitely yours. But don’t open it until you’re back in your home.”
Abby took the object and by its weight and shape immediately knew what it was: a handgun. She looked up at Hector with a sly grin, and he held a finger to his lips.
“Thanks,” she said and she turned to leave.
Hector watched her for a moment and saw that she was still favoring her left side where she’d been shot. “You’re sure you’re ready to be up and about?” he called to her.
Abby turned her head and gave him a withering look that suggested disdain for attempts at coddling her. He just shrugged his shoulders and closed the door.
***
Later that night, Hector came by Abby’s apartment to tell her that she could start working the very next morning for Gina, the woman who had helped bring her into the city. She would be working as a cook in her restaurant, which was obscure enough for Abby to stay unknown, and engaging enough for her to keep her mind occupied. And after all, how hard could it be to cook diner food?
Pretty hard, apparently. Abby had not cooked properly in years, so her first few days of working were a little stressful for her. But that was okay. It kept her busy and allowed her to fend off her demons for several hours a day. Besides, she soon got the hang of it and never looked back. She worked hard for at least eight hours a day, five days a week, just trying to stay busy. When she was not working, she was pushing her body as far as she could with her still healing wound, working out and practicing fighting by herself.
Besides her coworkers there were only two people who she consistently saw: Nora and Hiamovi. Once every few days, Nora would come by to invite Abby to a lunch at her place. She was such a friendly, kind old woman that Abby did not have the heart to shut her out, and once in a while during their conversations she could get even Abby to smile and laugh. But Abby never once confided anything personal to Nora. She believed that if she did, Nora’s personality would force her to pity Abby, and pity was the last thing that Abby wanted from anyone. She remained friends with her, but their relationship was really more of an acquaintance.
She also saw Hiamovi almost every day, either at work or in passing in their apartment building, but rarely spoke with him. He had come into the diner where Abby worked a few weeks after she’d started, looking surprised to see her, but Abby suspected that he had known where to find her. Since then, he’d come in at least once a week to eat and say hi. It annoyed Abby a little at first, and she’d return his greeting with nothing more than a cold glance and a curt nod.
But after weeks of Hiamovi’s persistent visits, she began to oblige him with an actual ‘hello’, or a wave of her fingers. Before long, he would tack on a question about her day after greeting her, which Abby sometimes answered with more than two words. And just like that, after several months of dancing around each other, Abby realized that she considered Hiamovi a friend, and she even looked forward to his visits and would greet him with a small smile.
At the same time, Abby felt like her body was back at 100%. She could run for miles and work out till she felt like puking, and it felt great. She now spent less time brooding about her past and more time wondering about her future. But that’s not to say she had defeated her demons. She still had bad days, days when she sought solace at the bottom of a bottle. Whiskey was her weapon of choice on these days, a drink readily available in the markets and sold to anyone who had the money, regardless of age. Cigarettes worked as well, but she preferred the taste of whiskey, and she did her best to hold herself to just one or two smokes a day.
The small, shrinking part of Abby that was still the old version of herself hated the habits she’d acquired, but what choice did she have? Misery permeated the city, and there were only so many ways to find escape. At least she wasn’t doing the hard stuff that she’d seen out in District 3 and, to a lesser degree, in the surrounding neighborhood, Abby told herself. At least she hadn’t hit total rock bottom.
She had also finally unveiled her TV and would sometimes watch it, although she was careful to never tune in to that channel that played all those old shows. She would see a lot of news reports about ‘domestic terrorists’ whom Abby assumed belonged to Hector’s ReFounding Fathers group. On a weekly basis, all over the West Coast, an Army convoy was ambushed or government money and supplies were stolen. The TV stations were always careful to describe these actions as deplorable and the people who perpetrated them as wicked anarchists, but Abby sensed that this was propaganda. There was rarely rebellious activity in the capital, however, given the extremely high security presence, but Abby still heard the occasional popping of distant gunfire or the thrumming of helicopters.
So despite her habits and her continued stumbling, Abby was indeed starting to feel like she was getting back to normal, both in body and mind, but she still lacked a purpose. She still felt unworthy of the praise Zach had given her moments before he died. There was simply no way he could have been proud of her, especially not if he could see her now. She wanted to change that. No, sh
e needed to change that.
But how? Zach was a military man. He had the heart of a warrior and Abby knew that he only truly respected other such people. He had told her stories of great Marines like John Basilone and Jack H. Lucas, and Abby could still see the fire in his eyes when he spoke of them and their heroic deeds. They had earned the respect of Sergeant Zach Davidson, a man whom Abby believed should be included on any list of heroes. If Abby wanted to be someone Zach would be proud of, she would have to be like those men; she would have to be like Zach.
It was upon all this that Abby was pondering as she lay in bed one morning, still in her sleepwear, but her train of thought was interrupted by someone knocking on her door. Annoyed, she got up and quickly threw some clothes on as she went to answer the door. She glanced into the peephole and saw that it was Hiamovi. A strange mixture of excitement and uneasiness seized her heart as she simultaneously wondered why he was coming to her door again and if she looked even remotely presentable.
“Hey,” she said as she opened the door. No longer did she bother with the door chain for Hiamovi.
“Hi Abby,” Hiamovi said. “I’m a little nervous so I’ll just get right to the point: I want to take you out again. And I know that you said you don’t want any friends but… well, I can’t believe that. You can turn me down now, and I promise not to bother you again. But I would be really happy if you didn’t, and I think you would be too.”
Abby looked down at the ground as she contemplated what Hiamovi said. Her instinct was telling her to slam the door in his face for presuming that he could just waltz down here and ask her out. She had already laid out in no unspecific terms how she felt about letting people into her life. Hiamovi dropping by at work was one thing, but this was blatantly ignoring her request.
And yet, that was nearly a year ago. Winter had melted into Spring, Spring became Summer, and the leaves changed color once again. Hell, she was sixteen now, her birthday having passed uncelebrated last month. And if she was going to be honest, part of her was plain giddy that Hiamovi had asked her out.
“Okay, wait there,” Abby said. She started to close the door, but Hiamovi put his hand out and stopped it.
“Actually, would it be alright if I waited for you inside?” Hiamovi asked.
For a brief moment, Abby once again considered a hasty retreat from this situation. She knew what Hiamovi was doing. He was testing his limits. He had already convinced her to accept his invitation to a morning out, and that had given him enough confidence to launch this follow-up strike deeper into uncharted territory.
“Fine,” Abby said, stepping back and allowing Hiamovi to come in.
“Thanks,” Hiamovi said as he walked into Abby’s apartment, officially becoming her first house guest. Abby closed the door behind him, but without turning her back to him. Not that she did not trust Hiamovi, but she was annoyed that he just won two battles of will.
“I’ll be right back,” Abby said as she walked into her bedroom, closing the door so that she could change into nicer clothes.
Hiamovi meanwhile stayed standing in the living room, inwardly rejoicing that his gamble had paid off, but not wanting to push his luck by getting too comfortable in Abby’s apartment. Regardless, he did not have to wait long before Abby returned from her bedroom, putting her hair up into a ponytail.
“You look nice,” Hiamovi said.
“Thanks,” Abby said. She gestured towards the door and said, “Lead the way.”
Hiamovi nodded and indeed led the way outside, heading towards a destination unknown to Abby.
Chapter Seventeen
“I really think you’ll like this place,” Hiamovi said as he and Abby walked down the road in the opposite direction of the market. “We’ll be getting pretty close to District 1, but there shouldn’t be any problems.”
“Would there normally be problems near District 1?” Abby asked. Besides going to work and the market, she almost never left her home.
“Sometimes there are issues, yeah,” Hiamovi replied. “The Tories are pretty vigilant over there, and they can get pretty rough if you so much as look at them the wrong way.”
Abby nodded her head in response. It looked like she would have to avoid eye contact with anyone near District 1, given her usual demeanor. She looked across the street and, as if to lend credit to Hiamovi’s assertion, she saw two black-clad DAS agents talking to a man who looked anxious. She could not hear the words, but their body language told Abby that their conversation was not a pleasant one. The man was staring at his feet as he spoke and one of the agents smacked him in the head.
“You’ll see that a lot, too, the more you get out,” Hiamovi said as he gestured towards the scene that Abby was watching unfold.
“So what is this place that you’re taking me to?” Abby asked as she glanced back at Hiamovi, wanting to change the topic.
“You’ll see,” Hiamovi said with a sly smirk.
“I have functioning eyes, so I don’t doubt that,” Abby replied. “But I’d like to know what it is right now.”
“Well, that’s unfortunate. You’ll have to wait to find out.”
“Suppose I just go back home then?”
“Suppose you do.”
Hiamovi annoyed Abby sometimes. More specifically, the fact that it was getting harder and harder for her to turn him down. Part of her wanted to leave him right there just to prove a point, but a bigger part of her would miss spending this time with him. This is what she told herself as she decided to keep walking with Hiamovi, but not without having the final word.
“Jackass,” she muttered, directing it at Hiamovi, who laughed in return.
The walked in silence for a few minutes until Hiamovi said, “Okay, we’re almost there. It’s the last building on the left, at the end of the block.”
Abby looked up and followed Hiamovi’s gaze. Down the street, on the left, there stood on the sidewalk a chalkboard sign advertising a video arcade. “An arcade?” she asked.
“Yeah. Bet that makes you pretty nostalgic,” Hiamovi replied with a grin.
Abby shook her head and said, “I’ve never been to one.”
Hiamovi looked as if a knife had pierced his heart. “What? Are you kidding me?” he asked, but Abby shook her head again. “Well, we are going to end this reign of madness right now,” he declared. He took Abby by the hand and quickly escorted her forward.
His sudden touch startled Abby at first. She thought about wrenching her hand away, but once again found herself unwilling. “Okay, maybe that does feel kind of nice,” she admitted to herself.
The inside of the arcade was dimly lit, the big game machines supplying most of the ambient light. Kids of all ages and even some adults were clustered around their favorite games, waiting for their turn to take control of the steering wheel or joystick.
“This is one of the very few luxuries we have in this district,” Hiamovi explained to Abby as he traded in some dollar bills for arcade tokens. “It’s nice to come here once in a while and just forget about everything happening out there, you know? For a few bucks, you can pretend that you’re just a regular kid playing video games and nothing more.”
Abby liked the thought of that. Sometimes, all she wanted to do was forget about everything in her life, and achieving that bliss of forgetfulness via video games was healthier than her usual method, and it wouldn’t leave her hung over. “So what games are we gonna play?” she asked.
“We’ll start with a classic. Follow me, I’ll show you,” Hiamovi replied. He led Abby towards the back of the arcade, hooked a left at the last row of games, and finally stopped in front of a very old game with two joysticks and blue and red buttons on either side.
“Space Invaders,” Abby said, reading the name on the machine.
“Yup. So you’ve at least heard of it?” Hiamovi asked as he bent over to deposit two tokens into the game’s coin slot. Abby nodded her head in reply and took one of the joysticks in her hand. Hiamovi stood back up and took control of
the other joystick as the demo that had been playing on the screen ended abruptly and was replaced by the main screen of the game. Hiamovi selected a two-player game, then both he and Abby waited for the first round to begin.
“You know how to play, right?” Hiamovi asked Abby as the rows of tiny alien invaders appeared at the top of the screen and began their slow, deliberate descent.
“Kersplode the aliens; don’t let them kersplode you,” she replied as she began to shoot up at the pixelated bad guys. Hiamovi laughed and joined the defense of Earth. The two of them working together got through the first three rounds easily enough, but by the fourth round, things were getting difficult as the alien ships sped up.
“Come on, there’s still a lot on your side,” Hiamovi said, nudging Abby with his elbow.
“Well, they’re dropping a shit-ton of bombs! I can’t get good shots,” she retorted.
“Do you wanna switch sides?” Hiamovi asked, looking over at Abby.
“Do you wanna get your hand broken?” Abby joked as she kept her eyes fixed on the screen, making Hiamovi grin.
Their back and forth dialogue of jabs and insults continued until they eventually completed that round, and it recommenced in the next one. Abby didn’t show it, but their playful banter was making her more nostalgic than any video game ever could. It reminded her of happier times when she was a quick-witted, sarcastic kid, trading verbal barbs with Zach whenever she could.
She was surprising herself all day, from allowing Hiamovi to take her out to engaging him in a duel of wordplay. She couldn’t believe it, but she was actually having fun. She was smiling a bit and even laughing. It seemed like Hiamovi brought out the best in Abby these days.
Eventually, the alien invaders overcame Abby and Hiamovi, and the game was over. Of course, they both blamed the other for not doing their fair share of defending the planet. From this game they went to play air hockey, a racing game, and yet another racing game, all of which became bitter contests between the two, peppered with good-natured trash talk. In the end though, Hiamovi won more games than Abby, a fact he was reminding her of yet again as they left the arcade and walked down the sidewalk together.
His Name Was Zach (Book 2): Her Name Was Abby Page 17
