by Kristin Cast
Aiden stood and nodded stiffly, the delicate tinkling of his zippers at war with the heavy clomp of his boots as he shuffled toward the door.
“And, Aiden, tread lightly. You don’t want all that dirt you’re tracking in to give someone a heart attack.”
He gingerly lifted each foot, admiring the powder of dirt left behind. “Guess it’s a good thing we’re in the MediCenter.” With a grin, Aiden strolled through the open door, dirt crunching in muted applause with each step.
III
Elodie had never been so relieved to leave for work. As long as she could keep from thinking about her mother and about that disturbing lesson fifteen during her ride on the commuter train, she’d be fine. Once she got to work, she’d be swallowed by her job, and the little girl’s screams would be scrubbed from her memory to make way for more pertinent information.
Focused on the day ahead, Elodie jogged down the wide front stairs of the renovated Craftsman she shared with her parents. She paused at street level and pressed the small, purple button on her Key Corp–issued cuff. A comforting sound hissed, like a match being lit, as a translucent violet bubble expanded from the cuff and encased Elodie. The Violet Shield Personal Protection Pods weren’t mandatory while walking around in Zone Two, but judging from the number of hazy purple spheres bobbing along the pedestrian walkways like grapes, they made everyone, Elodie included, feel a little bit safer.
Clutching her nursing textbook inside the bubble, Elodie turned to the right and walked briskly along the wide sidewalk to the MAX transit center hub that would take her downtown to Zone One, and Westfall’s central MediCenter.
It was late April and the prettiest season in Westfall, the only city in the West Coast sector of New America. The heavy gray clouds that had loomed over the city, promising rain every day from late fall to spring, had finally lost their battle against the sun. Now the glorious yellow orb dried the streets and added color back to the streets. Elodie breathed deeply as she passed a bush heavy with purple flowers, thankful that the latest updates to Personal Pods allowed scents to pass through the Violet Shield.
As always, she’d timed it perfectly. The train’s arrival bell chimed exactly as she rounded the corner to the MAX’s platform. Keeping her distance from those around her, Elodie hung back and allowed the other Zone Two residents to enter before she slipped between the slowly closing doors and into the slick, pristine interior of the MAX car, spotless from its daily sterilization.
The scent of bleach tickled her nose. It was the way life would always smell, a fact Elodie found reassuring. Actually, she found it more than reassuring. Bleach was sterile. Bleach was safe. And, therefore, life was safe.
Elodie bathed in the sharp scent as she settled into one of the few aluminum seats. She’d read somewhere once that prepandemic, the seats on the MAX were all squished up right next to each other. With a grimace, she glanced at the empty space on either side of her.
It’s no wonder Cerberus claimed ninety percent of the population. They were entirely too close to each other—all the time.
She sat back and relaxed. Her attention automatically flicked to the digital clock in the wall of the train. It was exactly 0900. It would take twenty minutes to get to the MediCenter, which meant she would arrive at work ten minutes before her morning shift began.
More importantly, she had a whole twenty minutes all to herself.
She eyed the other passengers before cracking open her textbook just enough so only she could see the pages. An icy wave of adrenaline tickled her spine as she took another glance around the car. None of the other passengers were even looking at a book, much less one as special as hers.
Elodie was breaking rules. In public.
She ran her fingers over the forbidden sheets she’d so carefully pasted to the pages of her textbook, and she could hardly keep still as she began to read.
“And that, my friend, is why life is worth living. Or, in your case, worth dying . . .” With a grimace, Vi shook her head. The blunt ends of her blond wig barely moved with the gesture. “Forgive me, Johnny.”
Johnny Diamoto jerked away as Vi leaned in from behind and rested her pointed chin on his shoulder. He was slick with sweat and stank of fear, ripe for the plucking.
Vi sighed. “That was a shitty line. I’m trying to come up with a catchphrase, but can I be honest?” Vi didn’t wait for a response. Instead, she stood and tightened the garrote around his fat, hairy log of a neck. Slowly. Not wanting to shed light on the shadow of hope hanging dark in the stuffy room.
She’d turned the heat up before he’d arrived at the swanky downtown hotel. The Honeymoon Suite, tonight 7p. That’s all his text had said. Honeymoon suite. Typical. Men like him loved dressing up their double life, making it seem like there would be a fairytale ending if the woman could just hold on long enough. Admittedly, Vi had hung on too long to this one. She’d lavished in the gifts, the trips, but now he wanted more. He’d “bought” and “paid for” enough. It was time to “see some returns.”
The timing had actually been perfect. Home Office was crawling up her ass about finishing the job. And finish, Vi would.
Diamoto’s sausage-roll arms strained against the silk ties she’d used to secure him to the chair. What was it with men and wanting to be tied up?
“Well, this whole catchphrase thing is not really working out for me,” Vi said. “I definitely thought it’d be a lot easier. I’ll have to get back to you.”
Wet, strangled grunts burbled through Diamoto’s swollen lips as she pulled on the ends of the wire.
“Did you have a thought, Johnny?” she purred. “Something to add?”
The chair creaked in response.
“What do you think my catchphrase should be?” Vi liked to leave them with a question. A small thread of connection she could twirl between her fingers after the job was done and she was back to being alone.
A final fighting burst surged through Diamoto, and his right arm freed itself from its binding.
That was the last time she would use silk.
Keeping her gloved hands securely wrapped around the wire, Vi dodged his arm as it flailed back, reaching for her. His waist was still tied in place, but Diamoto’s stumpy fingers found her wrist. His thick paws wildly clawed at her, pulling at and crashing against her leather-clad forearms.
“Bad . . . boy . . . Johnny,” Vi grunted as she tore away from him and crossed the wire behind his neck.
She leaned into him and pulled.
Johnny Diamoto shuddered and his hand slapped against hers like a wet, dying fish.
Vi breathed in a lungful of air as his ran out, and the world, no doubt, darkened around him.
Vi knew what that was like. Once upon a time, gloved hands had kept her from breathing. Left her for dead.
But Vi was better than that man. Vi always finished what she started.
The train clunked to a stop and the doors slid open with a hiss. Elodie glanced up as one person boarded. One person without his Violet Shield up. It wasn’t technically illegal to use public transport without a pod—as long as you followed the Hands-Off Protocol and kept distance between you and other passengers.
The man scanned for an empty seat, his gaze pausing, lingering on her. He ran his hand through his swirl of blond hair, his lips quirking up in a charming half smile. Elodie’s cheeks heated and she flicked her eyes down to her clean white sneakers. She felt his eyes still on her, heavy yet inviting, as he found an empty seat at the back of the train car.
Astrid would’ve chided her, saying something like, “You can still talk to people even though you have a fiancé. If he’s telling you that you can’t, you have a real problem.” But this was something Elodie’s cheery, talk-to-anyone best friend would never understand. It wasn’t that Elodie wasn’t allowed to talk to other guys. She was her own person and could do what she wanted (within reason, of c
ourse). Plus, Rhett would never even know. No, it wasn’t an issue of allowance, it was an issue of her actual human capabilities. She just . . . couldn’t. Most real-life interactions were so rushed and uncomfortable. Words wouldn’t even come out of her mouth and she ended up stuck.
The sterile white lights of the MAX flashed purple, and Holly materialized in the center of the small commuter train, her hands gently cupping The Key’s flowering red logo hovering just in front of her chest. “Please do not be alarmed.” Her smile was broad and white and calm and perfect. “The Violet Shield has been activated for your protection. You may continue with your activities. And remember, no touching today for a healthy tomorrow.” She paused for a few moments, blinking rapidly as she tested the MAX’s system, before repeating the message in the same steady, almost lullaby tone. Elodie recognized it from earlier. It was the same timbre Holly had used when Elodie had come out of lesson fifteen, when the weight of an awkward glance would have broken her into a million pieces.
The train fell eerily quiet. The young man who’d gotten on without his pod activated was now encased in his own purple haze. Apparently, all it took was one routine test to make sure everyone was doing what, in Elodie’s opinion, they should have done the moment they had left the house. Elodie shifted in her seat as thick ribbons of tension snaked around her. Why was everyone being so quiet? This happened every Tuesday. Transit Test Tuesday. That’s how she remembered to anticipate Holly’s appearance, so she wouldn’t freak out and think something bad—
Incoming call from Astrid Fujimoto.
A line of block-lettered text scrolled along the bottom of Elodie’s field of vision, announcing the call from her best friend. With a thought, Elodie answered. A translucent gray rectangle filled the left section of Elodie’s vision, partially pasting over the scene in the train. Like the sunrise, Astrid’s image faded into view, dim at first and then bright and vibrant, the other MAX passengers only visible behind her when they moved.
Astrid’s melanite black hair hung from her slick high ponytail in a giant frazzled knot against her chest as she stared wide-eyed at Elodie. “The shield is on in the MAX, isn’t it?” She didn’t waste any time. “They’re on throughout Zone One. And they’re on here, too.”
Elodie shifted nervously, all too aware that her voice was one of only a handful of other passengers who whispered to each other. “That’s weird. They normally only test the MAX’s shield on Tuesdays.” She hiked her shoulders. “But I guess it does make sense to do the train and all the zones in the same day.”
Astrid’s round face scrunched. “Yeah, that’s great. What does it have to do with today? Thursday.”
Thursday? A strangled breath squeaked past Elodie’s lips. It was Thursday. “Wait, the shield is on where you are? In Zone Two? There shouldn’t be any reason for it to be on that far from city center. There’s nothing but houses out there.”
Astrid twisted the length of her ponytail, only adding more tangles to the nest. “It was a germ stack. The shield is on in case it’s airborne.”
The same hard lump Elodie had felt earlier that morning returned to the back of her throat. “Where—” She cleared her throat in an attempt to break through the fear tightening her airway. “Where is it?”
Astrid’s lips firmed into a thin line. “Tilikum Crossing.”
Elodie pressed her back against the cold seat. “That’s a major MAX stop. Everyone traveling across the river switches trains there.”
Astrid’s eyes were wide and frantic. “It went off right before the train doors closed. Whatever was in the stack . . . it’s trapped in there with all of those people.”
Elodie stiffened. These kinds of things didn’t happen in Westfall. These kinds of things happened in other cities. Far away cities. Cities that weren’t filled with kind, rule-abiding citizens.
She chewed her bottom lip. She didn’t need to ask who’d set it off. She already knew the answer.
Astrid’s dark gaze fell and she let out a shaky breath. “It was Eos.” Again, she mussed her hair. “Two seconds and I’ll have the feed to you.”
Silence stuffed Elodie’s ears as she stared through Astrid at Holly standing in the middle of the train with her perfect smile, blinking through a test that was not routine after all.
Do something! she wanted to scream at the holographic woman who was everywhere and nowhere—the face and voice of the company that had saved their species from extinction. The Key Corp had set up rules to keep its citizens safe, but Elodie began to feel that protective shell crack. She shuddered at the thought of what could come in.
The MAX slowed to a stop. When Holly instructed all passengers to disembark, Elodie leapt out of her seat and darted through the open doors, the image of Astrid projected ahead, as though she raced backward through the crowd. With their Violet Shields engaged, the other riders purposefully hurried to their destinations. Were they really supposed to just go on? Everyone acting like nothing was happening when just a few miles away, living, breathing human beings were already marked as dead? Those citizens would never see their families again. They’d never see anyone again. The Key would take them into quarantine where they’d be put into a medically induced coma while bots monitored them until they inevitably died of whatever disease was packed into the germ stack. If they were lucky, the Key would put them out of their misery. Either way, no one ever survived Eos.
“Just sent it your way. Pull it up. It’s wild.” Astrid leaned back, cradling her head, her fear quickly sliding away, lacing itself with the glassy-eyed amusement of a spectator.
Elodie paused, hesitated. She didn’t want to watch the feed. It wasn’t going to be wild. It was going to be heartbreaking, nauseating, sad. She exited the MAX stop and walked with purpose down Third Avenue.
Astrid waved her hands in front of her face, her image drifting through other pedestrians also learning about Tilikum Crossing on their own private screens and text messages. “El? Helllloooo? Where arrrrrre youuuuu?”
“What? I’m right here. Obviously. You can see me.” Elodie forced one foot in front of the other, forced herself to match everyone else’s pace.
“Physically, sure, but mentally.” Astrid tapped her temple. “Light years away.”
“Can’t I take a few seconds to think about things?” An escaped clump of damp hair slapped against Elodie’s cheek, and she tucked it back under her beanie. “Serious stuff is happening right now, and I need a minute.”
“You can take as long as you want, as long as you aren’t thinking about Vee again.”
“Vi,” Elodie corrected automatically.
“I knew it!” Astrid clapped. “I knew you were still reading those books. Getting lost and daydreaming about those ridiculous stories. All books like that do is cause problems. And they’re banned, Elodie. They’ll get you into so much trouble. You have to stop.” Her ponytail swished from side to side to punctuate her point. “I mean, next you’re going to tell me you believe in New Dawn.”
Elodie quickened her pace. Her gaze darted suspiciously at the passersby, monitoring every little reaction for fear they’d somehow heard Astrid’s side of their private conversation, though she knew it was only in her field of vision, pumped into her eardrum via implant. “I was not daydreaming. Plus, I don’t do that anymore. I turned all of those”—she checked her surroundings before whispering—
“illegal books over to the Key’s librarian myself.” It wasn’t exactly a lie since she planned on doing just that as soon as she finished the entire series. “So there’s no reason to talk about it again.” Her brow furrowed. “And I would never say that I believe in New Dawn.”
Astrid smoothed a finger over her perfectly plucked eyebrow. “Well, they’re both made-up stories.”
“But one is a book,” Elodie whispered. “It’s art, Astrid. And the other is a lie Eos created to drum up recruits. Not the same at all.” She shook her head and
Astrid’s image moved in unison with the motion. “Play the feed,” Elodie commanded her vidlink before Astrid had a chance to comment.
A gray rectangle appeared above Astrid’s image. The shape bisected the translucent panel covering the left side of Elodie’s vision and created two separate panels—the lower was Astrid, and the upper was the live feed of Tilikum Crossing.
The first thing Elodie noticed was all the people lined up, each on their backs with their arms in an X across their chests. Hazmat-clad soldiers pointed guns at each person while trash can–sized bots sped around the bridge spraying every surface with liquid.
Her breath hitched in her chest and her legs ceased moving. This time, she couldn’t force herself forward. She couldn’t make her body blend in with the others who moved around her, swerving so as not to bump into her, not to touch her, everyone a little more cautious, a little more anxious, as the morning news spread. Maybe they could do all these things at once, their bodies continuing through the world on autopilot while their minds attended to more important matters, but Elodie couldn’t do it all. She felt too much.
The drone transmitting the live feed didn’t supply audio and was too high above the scene for Elodie to tell whether or not the eyes of the men and women lying on the bridge were closed out of fear, obedience, or death.
Elodie’s fingers tingled. “Are they dead?” she finally heard herself ask.
Astrid’s ponytail slid from her shoulder as she shrugged dismissively. “If they aren’t now, they will be soon.”
Elodie wanted to run until Westfall was nothing but a distant haze, but she would only be able to go so far. The Key had locked down the city at the threshold of Zone Seven. And for good reason.
Astrid cocked her head. “You think one of those soldiers is Rhett?”
Elodie squinted at the image, but it was no use. With their shiny Key Corp–red Hazmat suits and black weapons, the soldiers resembled a swarm of ladybugs. “I hope not. I don’t want him anywhere near that kind of stuff.”
