Dependent Days

by Chris Sapp

  But there was no ogre rage.

  Instead the ogress volunteered to take Izabel herself.

  TEN MINUTES LATER, Pink Tusks was cruising through the streets of San Andreas with Izabel on her back. The ogress used her feet and muscular thighs to steer the airboard around slower moving traffic or above walking pedestrians. The rain had stopped and Izabel was thankful, being harassed by the wind was enough.

  "Give me five minutes,” Izabel said, when the ogress dropped her off at her door step. Her apartment, like most of the residences in San Andreas' Harmony district, sucked. It was small. Calling it an efficiency apartment would be pushing it and the kitchen sink or the shower drain was always clogged, no matter how much cleaner she used. But she dealt with it because there was a bar on every corner and they had live music every Friday night. Plus, it was all she could afford, well now she couldn't even afford this luxurious piece of shit. She unlocked the door and looked around for something she could trade for morphagens. She didn't have a clue how the trading process worked. Until today, she'd always had the cash. Fuck you Elijah. Her bed beckoned to her and she almost gave in. She was so exhausted. She wanted to crawl into it and never get up again. Izabel forced herself to keep looking. She had lots of clothes and some had been expensive but she didn't have anything that was in high demand. She stopped long enough to swap her ruined boots for another pair. She also dropped a pocket knife into her right boot. If the next twenty hours were going to be anything like the last twenty-four, it'd probably come in handy. She wasn't much for jewelry and the little bit she did have, was the cheap stuff. Turquoise and silver. No gold and no diamonds.

  Well, except for the diamond earring hidden in the bed post. She unscrewed the ball and removed the velvet pouch. She loosened the draw string and dumped the single stud into the palm of her hand. It sparkled. Besides the trust fund, it was the only thing her father had ever given her. The earrings had been a sweet sixteen present. She only stopped wearing them because she lost one and she didn't want to risk losing the other one. Was she really considering trading it in? She was out of options. It was either the earring or her acoustic guitar. The one she'd learn to play on. And now the only guitar she owned. Fuck you Elijah. Fuck you very much.

  Most girls would've chosen the guitar, but not Izabel, she loved playing more than anything in the whole galaxy. She dropped the earring back into the velvet pouch and headed for the door.

  She half expected the ogress to be gone when she stepped outside. But she wasn't. The ogress was performing an airboard trick off the busted street lamp.

  "Ready?" asked the ogress, when she spotted Izabel.

  Izabel nodded and climbed on the ogress' sweaty back. She didn't mind. She could endure a little sweat if it kept her off the detox list.

  THEY ARRIVED AT Morphagen Tower roughly thirty minutes later. It was a twenty-story building located in the heart of San Andreas. Every planet had one and as usual it was busy. The line started at the entrance on the south wall and went three-fourths around the building to the north side. Half a dozen guards patrolled the roof. There were twice as many on the ground. Plus, two well-armored ships, traveling in opposite directions, monitored the crowd from the air.

  "Thank you," Izabel said as she hopped down. "You saved my life again."

  "You're welcome and good luck."

  Pink Tusks flew away into the night and Izabel got in line behind a faery. There was a 70 inch mobi-vid screen floating above the crowd. This particular device didn't air TV shows instead it aired current information about the Morphagen Market. Izabel's elf morphagen was produced by Slade Enterprises and the standard rate for one dose was $25 credits. Her diamond earring should fetch at least ten times that much. She glanced at her watch. It was 6:30pm. She had two and half hours to reach the front of the line. It was going to be close. She sat down against the wall and closed her eyes. She wanted to sleep but she couldn't. If the line moved and she was asleep the other addicts would move on without her. Ten minutes later, the floating mobi-vid was back. It had completed its circuit around the building. The going rate for her morphagen had risen to $27 credits. Two more credits. No, biggie.

  BY SEVEN O’CLOCK the line had moved enough that Izabel was now on the west side of the building. She was no longer last in line either. At least twenty people had walked up in the last half hour. There was an old vampyr dude, leaning against a lamp post. He had a sign that read: Will suck for credits. His clothes were ragged and he was bare foot. His skin was splotchy and hanging off his bones. He'd lost most of his hair and his eyes were sunk deep into his skull. But his enlarged incisors still looked very functional. The mobi-vid came by and the price of her morphagen was now $32 credits. Izabel wasn't worried. Even at that price she should still be able to purchase at least a week's worth.

  At 7:15 a fight broke out between a green ogre and a brown one. The guards didn't interfere. Instead they placed bets and watched. They weren't there to protect the buyers from each other, their only priority was the dealers and the product. When the fight was over, the guards settled their bet and dragged the brown ogre's body out of line. The ogre's exposed viscera left a bloody streak on the pavement.

  Around 7:45 the faery in front of Izabel started having trouble staying airborne. She was wheezing and it took every bit of her strength just to flap her wings. Izabel didn't have to ask what was wrong. She knew. The faery had started to detox.

  "How far along are you?" she asked the faery

  "Mind your own business, elf."

  Not wanting any trouble, she did. Izabel was dozing off when the people ahead of her broke out in an uproar. Her first thought was another fight, but when people started hurling liquor bottles at the mobi-vid, she realized morphagens prices must've gone up. Most of the bottles missed completely but some shattered against the invisible shield protecting the screen. When the screen finally reached her, she saw that prices hadn't just gone up, they had sky rocketed. Her morphagen was now $51 credits for a single dose. That was the highest she'd ever seen it. She'd only be able to buy four freaking days worth. Damn the Morphagen Order and its greed.

  By 8:30 she had finally reached the south side. There was only twenty people between her and the door. She was going to make it. But then both of the faery's wings fell off and her tiny body plummeted to the sidewalk.

  "Oh shit,” Izabel knelt next to the faery. One of her arms had been broken in the fall and her wheezing was much worse.

  "Somebody help her,” she pleaded but no one seemed to care, not anyone in line and especially not the guards.

  "Here I'll help," said the centaur standing behind her. He raised his front hoof, intending to stomp on the wounded faery.

  "No!" Izabel shouted, covering the faery with both of her hands.

  "She's done. It's the humane thing to do,” argued the centaur.

  "No." Izabel refused to move her hands. The centaur shrugged his shoulders and pointed at something ahead of her. She looked. Damn! The line was moving again. She had two choices. Either leave the faery behind to detox or take her with her. She made the choice in an instant. She scooped the faery up and moved along. Her life had been saved not once but twice by a complete stranger. This was her chance to do it for someone else.

  "So, you're gonna carry her the rest of the way?" laughed the centaur.

  "Yeah, I am. What's it to you, four-legger?"

  That shut him up. But it also made him angry. Hopefully he wouldn't try anything. She turned her attention back to the faery. She was still wheezing. Izabel didn't know what else to do so she gently blew into her cupped hands. Her breath was like a strong wind. It ruffled the faery's brown hair and flapped at her tiny skirt. Izabel paused to see if her endless blowing was accomplishing anything. The faery appeared to be wheezing less so she took a deep breath and continued.

  She was second from the door when the mobi-vid came by again. Her morphagen was still fifty-one credits. Ridiculous. But at least it hadn't gone up any higher. It was 8:44 when she f
inally got inside in the lobby. Armed guards stood in front of four elevators. Jori was the name of the elf dealer and he was on the seventeenth floor but she didn't have a clue what floor was dedicated to the faery morphagen. She quickly consulted the directory and then boarded one of the elevators. She shared the elevator with a Shadowpaw, two Ogres, and a Giant. When the doors opened on the third floor, Izabel stepped forward and nearly smashed her nose on the wall. The ceilings on the third floor were only three feet tall. She had to crawl on her hands and knees to get off the elevator. She was in a hallway that had been scaled down to faery-size. Holding the faery in her hand, she crawled toward the open room at the end of the hall. The design was similar to the seventeenth floor only ten times smaller. She passed several rooms. All the doors were closed but she knew what they were used for. In fact, once she purchased her morphagen she'd lock herself in one of the rooms on her floor and get high. The hallway was so narrow that her shoulders almost touched both walls and her shirt caught on a tiny water fountain, causing it to rip. The open space at the end of the hallway was the dealer's office.

  "Wrong floor, elf,” said Apryl, the faery dealer hovering behind a miniature desk, "You want seventeen."

  "No, I brought this.” She sat the detoxing faery down on the rug.

  "What the hell am I supposed to do with her?" asked the dealer.

  "Sell her a morphagen!"

  “Selling is normally associated with buying. I don't see any credits,” Apryl said.

  Izabel grabbed the faery's credit pouch and emptied it out on the rug. Thirty lousy credits, Izabel thought bitterly.

  "That ain't enough,” stated the dealer.

  "This should cover the difference,” Izabel said, adding her diamond earring to the pile.

  "I hate to break it to you honey, but your friend's probably not gonna make it."

  "Just do it."

  The dealer shrugged, picked up the earring, and flew up to the light where she could inspect it further. “Ah, this a Terra Gigas diamond,” said the dealer with a smile on her face. She returned to the window.

  "I'll give ya two hundred credits for the stud.”

  "Fine, " Izabel knew she was getting ripped off. But what else could she do.

  "Hold her hand up,” instructed the dealer.

  Izabel held the faery's quivering hand up so the dealer could scan it with a data pad. Then the dealer typed something into the computer on her desk.

  "Okay. That'll be one hundred and seventy-seven credits."

  "What? How much was her morphagen?"

  "Well, the current rate is fifty-nine credits. But she's on the detox list so it's three times the standard amount."

  Izabel looked down at the faery. Her whole body was trembling now. Maybe the dealer was right. Maybe she wasn't going to make it. It was going to cost her, two-hundred for the earring, plus the faery's thirty, minus one-hundred and seventy-seven for the drugs. That left her with fifty-three credits for herself. She had vowed to save this chick's life. She wasn't about to quit now.

  "Do it."

  The dealer took the credits and gave Izabel her change.

  "Got another one,” the Dealer said into the intercom on her desk. Two guards, both male faeries, emerged from a side room.

  "Take the faery to room four."

  "No. Wait!" Izabel protested.

  "Don't worry," soothed the dealer. "She's paid up. We'll administer the drug and with any luck she pull through."

  Izabel nodded as the two guards grabbed the wingless faery and flew her away. Izabel was careful to avoid the water fountain as she crawled back to the elevator. She hit the call button and waited. Her spine groaned when she was finally able to stand up in the elevator. When the doors opened on the seventeenth floor, she practically ran to the office where Jori, the elf dealer, was waiting. She held her palm out and he scanned it.

  "Okay, that'll be one-hundred and fifty-three credits."

  "No. Just one dose,” Izabel corrected him.

  "That is just one dose."

  "What?" Her heart began to pound and her head felt dizzy. "It's fifty-one credits for one dose."

  Jori smiled. There was nothing friendly about it. "You're right the current rate for the elf morphagen is fifty-one credits. But you were added to the list at nine o'clock and now it's three times that amount."

  The list? No, she couldn't be on the detox list. It was only—

  She looked at her watch. Oh, God. It was 9:08. "Wait. There's been a mistake."

  "We don't make mistakes,” said Jori, motioning his guards over. They had her gripped between them in an instant.

  "Wait. I have the money,” she poured her fifty-three credits onto his desk.

  Jori rolled his eyes. "That's only fifty-three credits. I just explained to you that the standard amount tripled at nine o'clock."

  "I was inside the fucking building before nine o'clock!” Izabel squirmed but the guards wouldn't let her go. "I was on the third floor."

  “Three? But you're an elf? Why would you go there?"

  "This faery started detoxing while we were in line. I wanted to help her out. So I took her to three."

  "Did it work?"

  "I don't know,” she was crying. She didn't want to. But she couldn't help it. This had been the worst day of her life.

  "That's a sad story. Maybe you should have taken care of yourself instead of trying to help someone else,” said Jori.

  The guards pulled her away. She reached out and managed to grab the edge of Jori's desk.

  "Jori! I buy from you all of the time!"

  "So? Do you think that makes us friends? I'm a dealer, Izabel. I can't afford the luxury of friends."

  Jori's guards passed her off to the elevator guards and the elevator guards passed her off to the ones in the lobby. Then the lobby guards tossed her out in the street. It was raining again. But instead of soothing her aches and pains, all the hard drops did was irritate them. She laid there for a while because it was too painful to do anything else. But what hurt most of all was the fact that she'd been betrayed twice in one day. Maybe Jori was just doing his job, but he knew what putting her on that list meant and he didn't even care. But it wasn't just Jori or even Elijah. She felt betrayed by life in general. What had she done to deserve all of this? The ogress had saved her life so she'd tried to return the favor and somehow she'd still gotten the short end of the stick. Welcome to San Andreas where getting fucked is easier than breathing.

  KARIAH

  SEVENTY-FIVE PERCENT OF Slade Enterprises profit was derived from the morphagens Kariah and Blair developed in the lab. The other twenty-five percent was derived from the creations that were developed in the greenhouse, the garden, and the forest. Despite this fact, Magnus had always viewed her work outside of the labs as a hobby. Which is why he did absolutely nothing while the berserk blood oak killed eight people and injured another fifteen. Each was a loyal employee to Slade Enterprises. Her husband had one-thousand stallions at his command. He could have sent in a hundred colts. Instead he had posted a few guards at the edge of the forest, and told them to contain it at all costs.

  With Flame throwers.

  Some of the trees in the forest were over a hundred years old. Thank the Gods, Blair’s neutralizing toxin had worked, otherwise those trees and dozens of more employees would’ve been lost forever.

  The elevator doors opened and Kariah galloped out. Her pulse raced and hands trembled with rage as she stormed down the hallway towards Magnus’s office. Everyone she passed gave her a wide birth. Which probably had to do more with the flame thrower in her hands than the scowl on her face.

  Petro and Flynn were posted outside the doors. They tightened their grip on their shotguns when they saw her coming.

  “Lord Slade ordered us not to disturb him,” Petro said.

  She leveled the flame thrower’s barrel at them.

  “Move.”

  They complied.

  She kicked the doors open with her front hooves and cha
rged in. She immediately saw why Magnus did not want to be disturbed. He had a blond filly bent over the mahogany desk. His hands were busy with her plump breasts while his hindquarters pumped away. Kariah hadn’t intended on using the flame thrower for anything other than intimidation. Although she was aware of Magnus’s infidelity, seeing him in the act changed her mind. She leveled the flame thrower at them and squeezed the trigger. The filly’s pleasure turned into sheer panic as the desk suddenly caught fire. Magnus was nearly knocked off his hooves as his mount scrambled to get away from him. Kariah waved the flame thrower back and forth across the desk until the fire sprinklers came on. She lowered the weapon and glared at her husband through the falling mist and dying flames. The filly got to her hooves.

  “Lady Slade…I—

  “Hoof it bitch. My problem is with my husband not his whore,” Kariah said. The filly galloped from the room, leaving her bra and blouse on the floor. The sprinklers shut off, having extinguished the fire. Husband and wife glared at each other through the rising smoke.

  “If this isn’t about her and the dozens more like her. Then what is it about?” Magus asked.

  “It’s about the forest and your idea for a solution.” She tossed the flame thrower onto the charred remains of the desk, kicking up a cloud of soot.

  “It’s my understanding that your assistant Blair provided a better solution. So, what’s the problem?”

  “What if he hadn’t?” she asked.

  “Then I would’ve burned the forest to the ground.”

  “What about the victims?” Kariah asked.