The Given

by Colby R Rice

  "Is this your kid?" He demanded by way of introduction. He pointed at Manja with what Zeika recognized as an AR-15 automatic rifle. She slowly straightened up, taking care to position herself between the gun and Manja.

  "Yeah. She's my kid," she said carefully. "What's it to you?"

  "We tourists love looking at the local wildlife. We find it quite beautiful," said another from behind her. She could hear a soft metal chick as the other Koan handled his gun, most likely aiming at her back. "Hands up," he commanded. "You too, kid."

  "Zeeky…?" Manja's voice was shaking, scared. Tears had already begun to well in her eyes.

  "Do as he says, honey, okay?" Zeika tried to smile as she raised her hands slowly, lifting them until both palms were up, fingers spread. "Just look at me, only at me. Copy what I'm doing."

  "Kay…" she stammered, copying her. Her flashlight hit the ground.

  Movement at the edges of Zeika's vision. In the slinking shadows, she could see the outlines of hooded bodies moving fast and low, heading towards the dimly-lit huts.

  "You're hitting our lot…" she whispered, stunned.

  Another soldier, male, came up to the gunman at her front. Her eyes widened. The newcomer had to be sixteen, seventeen years old, max. Three more teenaged Koans, one of them a girl, came up next to him. All of them were young enough to be considered ghosts of war. But these… these were ghosts of Koa.

  "Captain?" The first ghost asked.

  "Tell the F-cells to round up the g.ow.s in the lot, and keep them subdued. Starting with these two. If they or anyone else moves, kill them."

  "Yes sir," and he took up the gunman's post at Zeika's face. She watched the gunman nod to his partner behind her, and without a word, they walked around her, heading for the huts.

  The girl ghost lifted a radio to her ceramic lips and spoke silently into it. "Round up the specters. Draft time."

  "Roger that," a voice responded through the radio.

  Zeika tensed. There was an opening between the three of them. She and Manja could run for it. They might be able to make it off the Lot… sound an alarm…

  The metal peephole of the ghost's gun sliced that thought off at the knees. He seemed to sense what she was thinking, and he was aiming, right in between her eyes.

  "If you even breathe wrong, you're dead."

  Keep them talking, stall, sing, dance, whatever you have to do…

  "You shoot me, and the whole lot will hear it. Then we'll see who's pushing up daisies at the end of the night. We're not rookies like Lot 12."

  "We?" The teen soldier looked down at Manja who was clutching her dinosaur bag to her chest. He raised an eyebrow and chuckled. "What are you going to do, kid, snuggle me to death with Barney?"

  "Leave her alone!" Zeika snarled. "The bin is open. Just take what you want, and leave!"

  "But my interest is right here. Strapping young women like yourself might do well in the right circles."

  "We're not interested in being recruited to Koa, so don't ask."

  The other male ghost circled to the side of her. "Why should we recruit you—" he said, his mask smiling as he did. "—when we can just take you?"

  Zeika looked at their home, a little over 200 feet away, at the Koan soldiers who were crawling slowly toward it, and at Manja, who was shaking. Her fingers put a tighter clutch on her dino bag.

  "What's this?" One of the ghosts stepped up to Manja and snatched the bag out her arms.

  "NO!" Manja cried out as he opened it, spilling its guts onto the ground.

  Her stuff clattered out, along with the medicine and the can of money that spilled open, shedding dollars over the dirt.

  "Jackpot," one of the girl ghosts snickered. "Looks like someone's been hoarding. Good for me. I need more nail polish." She picked up the dollars and shoved them into her pocket. Zeika began to shake with anger.

  "Score." Another male ghost bent down and picked up the box of medicine. "Clotting factor 8," he read. Then he looked up to his mates, his eyes wide with interest. "Hemostatic medicine."

  "How much is it worth?"

  "Boatloads." He pocketed the medicine and dino bag and began to walk towards the lots.

  "Wait! Please!" Zeika stuttered. "We need that. Take the money, but we need the medicine."

  "Shut up, civvie," the gunman on her muttered.

  "Please! It's the only dose of medicine she has! I just lost my job and won't be able to buy her another one! She needs it! She needs it, or she'll die!" She rose to her feet.

  Bam! Zeika's lip split open beneath the butt of his rifle, and she fell to her hands and knees in the dirt.

  Manja screamed, grabbing the arm of Zeika's robes and pulling. Sobbing.

  Zeika's vision swarmed, sending bile from stomach to throat, and she could feel a painful swell rising at her chin. The impact clouded her sight, but all she could think about was the one who had Manja's medicine. Those boots were getting farther and farther away with each second she cowered in the dirt. She gritted her teeth, forcing herself to a stand once more.

  "Give it back…" she snarled, watching the ghost walk into the distance. Manja's dinosaur bag swung in his grasp.

  "Stay down."

  She kept rising, blood streaming down her chin.

  "Stay down, I said!" The ghost roared, jamming the muzzle into the side of her head.

  Zeika grabbed the barrel of the rifle, even as he pulled the trigger—

  Click.

  The gun still-birthed in the night air, and Zeika slammed her heel into his gut, parting the rifle from his grip, sending him flying back and skidding through the mud.

  The staccato of dry clicks and jamming chambers echoed across the remaining three, and stunned, they all exchanged confused looks as their guns yielded nothing but noise and air. Zeika still held the ghost's rifle, and she tossed it onto the ground in front of her and tightened her fists. She could hear Manja's whimpers, feel her trembling even as she put a hand on her head and pushed the girl behind her, shielding her—

  The ghosts came at her all at once, and Zeika lashed out, disarming each of them before hitting one in the throat, another with a back fist, grabbing the last by her lapels and hurling her into the mud.

  "RUN, Manja!" She shouted, and Manja obeyed, ducking and beelining for the house, screaming Mama and Baba's names.

  "You little bitch!"

  Two ghosts closed in on Zeika, again, one of them grabbing her hood. She threw an elbow back, smashing one in the face, and clotheslining the other with a spinning roundhouse. A fist slammed across her face, pushing black into her line of sight, but as she fell into the mud, one pulsing thought brought her consciousness back—

  MANJA.

  Almost on command, her vision cleared, just in time to see two rebels sprinting, bearing down on Manja from behind. She felt a ghost jump on her, and snarling, Zeika reached over her shoulder and threw him, slamming his body to the ground. She scrambled to her feet and plowed towards the other ghosts in front of her. Just as one of them reached to grab Manja's hair, Zeika left the ground, planted both feet into his back, and pushed, hurling his body face first into the ground. He tumbled, and his mouth and nose splashed crimson across the grass and gravel. Manja was still running and crying out, Zeika could hear her— and the army of footfalls as Koa ran out from the shadows.

  The noise caused doors to open. Lights spilled into the lot and people poked their heads out of their houses.

  "RAID!" Zeika screamed as a ghost tackled her to the ground, pinning her with his weight.

  Civilians rushed out of their homes, but they stopped in a messy wave as Koan soldiers darted from the shadows from all sides, aiming their guns.

  "Hands in the air, now!" One of the soldiers shouted.

  Zeika wriggled under the weight of the ghost on her back, but she could still see into the lot. The group of Koans wasn't that big, fifteen at most. If they didn't have guns, they could take them.

  "Round 'em up," the leader commanded. Then he turned
to Zeika, searing her with an angry gaze. "And bring that little whistle blower to me. She needs to be taught some manners."

  His soldiers dispersed, and with a few warning shots, they dragged most of the remaining lot out of their homes. As the older soldiers rounded Civilians up at the lot's edge, Zeika was hoisted to her feet by the two ghosts. She shot a long angry look at each Koan soldier and the weapon in his hand as she was shoved forward. They dragged her in front of the cowering crowd and then threw her down in front of the leader.

  "EZEKIEL!" Mama's voice rang out, and there was a bustle in the crowd as she tried to barge through. A nearby soldier grabbed her and threw her to the ground, aiming his rifle at her. She scrambled to her knees.

  "Please, don't hurt her!"

  Zeika felt her mouth curl downwards as she watched her mother grab the hem of the Koan's robes. It wasn't how she imagined it, her mother down on her knees before specters that weren't even supposed to exist.

  "How dare you buck your recruits on our lot!" Zeika snarled at the Koan leader.

  "Shut up, Ezekiel!" Mama screamed. "Just shut up for once!"

  "No, she's right!" One of the Civilians stepped forward. "The Knights of Almaut are supposed to stand for the people, not against them! Who the hell do you sons of bitches think you are?! Why are you in the Protecteds?!"

  The man let out a muffled "ugh!" and fell to his knees as a Koan slammed the butt of his rifle into his stomach.

  "Line them up," the leader said. "Show them what happens when dogs bite their master's hand."

  The crowd protested as Zeika, Mama, and the Civilian were all dragged forward. The bodies of the angry crowd teemed against an invisible line, a dead zone marked by the floating muzzles of the Koan firing squad… half of which turned towards the three of them.

  Zeika was thrown down onto her knees in front of the executioners, next to Mama and the other Civilian. The roar of protests and screams swelled against her ears.

  "Ready!" Their leader barked. "Aim!"

  Zeika raised her eyes, seeing the leader's lips scream "fire", watching the executioners squeeze the triggers— and watching as the guns clicked. Dead. Empty.

  Civilians roared and flung themselves at the small militia, grabbing their guns, and burying knuckles and knees into Koan flesh. Others ran to the nearest hut, even if it wasn't theirs, to get pots, pans, anything that could be used as a weapon.

  In the melee of flying fists and furniture, Zeika scanned the crowd, looking for the Koan with Manja's bag. He was facing off with another Civilian teen and winning, about to stomp the civvie's face in. Zeika sprinted and tackled him at his midsection, and as they rolled across the ground, she punched, kicked, and slammed her knee into his body. Clearly taken by surprise, all the ghost could do was try to cover his face as she wailed on him. The effort proved useless. His mask shattered into pieces under her assault, jagged porcelain clinging to his face like a second skin.

  "Where is it?!" Zeika screamed. She punched him again, feeling the skin of her knuckles slough off on his mask and not caring. She slammed him down onto his back by his neck and cocked back a fist. "Where is her medicine?!"

  Another ghost grabbed her hair from behind. He wrenched her off his comrade, putting her into a headlock. Twisting, she slammed her elbow into her captor's gut, but he was stocky, and her blow met him with little effect. He hooked his arm into hers and jammed it back, stopping the onslaught. Pain shot through her arm, and she could feel her throat close as her captor clamped down on her neck.

  The ghost she had been beating up crawled to his feet, his eyes burning. The broken mask clung to his bloodied, swollen cheeks like plates of dry earth.

  "Lift her chin," he snarled to his partner, wiping the blood from his face. "Civilian or not, I'm gonna cut her ear to ear." He pulled his field knife from his shoulder holster.

  BAM! The shot from the .47 went off, high and whining in the air. The group of rebels froze, and so did the citizens of Lot 3, the brawl stopped by the song of the only working gun on the lot. Dazed, Zeika looked at the scene, a living fresco of war. Civilians held the insurgents at bay, brandishing all types of clubs, rolling pins, or portable furniture, holding them tensely in case someone moved. The ghost who had Zeika in the chokehold froze as well, but his arm remained locked around her throat.

  "Get off our lot you thieving bastards!" Baba snarled, aiming the gun at the group. "And leave the girl lie!"

  Zeika felt herself thrown to the ground, and she heard her attacker back up slowly. She scrambled to her feet and whipped around, just in time to see the leader, who was bruised and knotted up, nodding at his men. Koans pulled themselves from under the crowd, and one by one, they dispersed, many of them limping away or leaning on a comrade. Seething, the leader backed off too, but as he did, he turned, allowing the venom from his gaze to seep into Zeika.

  "You got lucky this time," he said to her. "All of you. But we'll be back, and if you think the Civic or Alchemic Orders are going to swoop in and save you, you've got another think coming. This is Koan turf now. Just ask the other eight lots." Below the glint of his eyes, the lips of the mask curled into a snowy smile. Then, he ran off after his men. In the next second, they all disappeared into the shadows as quietly as they had come.

  Baba walked up to her and pulled her up from the ground. "That Majkata's doin' you pretty good, unh?"

  "Yeah, but Koa might have done me harder had you not come," she said, smiling, nursing her bloody lip. "Thanks."

  Baba forced a smile. He had a few scratches on him too, but nothing too serious. Men tended to bounce off his tank-like body. She had no doubt that he had bounced more than a few Koans tonight before going for the gun.

  "Your Pa's not liking that dirty mouth you've picked up, chicken." Baba smiled. "But you're welcome nonetheless. Now take your tail inside and give Manja a snuggle. She's scared stiff."

  "Manja!" She felt herself stiffen. "She's okay?"

  Baba nodded. "She was in the crowd, but when the brawl started, your mother snatched her up and ran."

  Zeika nodded, relief filling her. Then, her shoulders slumped, and she was fighting tears of frustration. "They took it, Baba. Our savings and Manja's medicine."

  He put a hand on her shoulder, and smiling, he reached in his back pocket, pulling out the hard case. "This fell out of that ghost's pocket as he was having it out with the Smith kid. I knew it could only be one thing, so I snatched it. The bastard made off with her little bag though…"

  "Oh Baba!" Zeika grabbed him around the mid-section in a hug.

  He handed Manja's medicine case back to her. "Now go check on them. I'll finish things out here."

  Smiling, Zeika nodded and turned to go in. That was, until she could see a blue and white light flashing in the distance. It headed towards them, its shine speckling the thick moist air, like a raincloud rolling over the horizon. Her eyes widened, and she exchanged looks with Baba, who looked as shocked as she felt. None of them, in their 15 years of living in the Fifth, had seen such a sight.

  It was a Demesne Five policeman.

  The Canopy had snuffed out all heavenly night lights with an electric black, and as Caleb's police lights washed over the quiet lot, he wondered if he was in the right place. From what he could see, the lot's electricity had been cut as reported, but the residents looked relatively in tact. They ambled around listlessly, carrying small tea-light candles, and while he was glad people were still alive, he decided to save the sigh of relief for later. He had never seen so many that looked like walking dead.

  He'd gotten the distress call at the desk— rather, the precinct had, and he had just happened to be walking by the empty dispatch booth, where Loka Torv and her team were supposed to be sitting. He didn't know what the hell the police secretary and dispatches did all day, but it certainly wasn't cop work. They had routed all dispatch to a silent line, and calls had been backed up the goddamned wazoo.

  From Lot 36, Lot 14, Lot 3… How long had the phones been turned off?r />
  Caleb was still trying to shake them off, the sounds of bullet ricochet, the screams of terror that had been coming through the airwaves as he picked up each call and dispatched units. Civilians had been begging for police assistance, pleading for the lives of their children— until they were all cut off at once, all the sounds muted, all the blinking lights on the switchboard extinguished, leaving nothing but dead silence. It didn't take an Einstein to figure out that some of the lots in the Fifth were getting hit at the same time. He had done what he could to get units to each lot under attack, even though he knew it would already be too late.

  Dirty bastards. All of them.

  He gripped the steering wheel, resisting the urge to tear it off as he remembered running through the precinct, looking for on-duty cops to dispatch. Many officers had refused, even when he reminded them that he had authority over them. Fear or sheer lack of respect had kept each AP rooted to his donut. Caleb had known about the prejudice between Civilians and Azures, but this bit the artery. He'd been pissed, had roared at five officers and kicked over a chair before he jumped into a car and barreled down the streets of the Fifth, sirens blazing, with nothing but his gun and a prayer that the people in Co-op City Lot 3 were still alive.

  Violating restricted duty, Captain's gonna chew my ass, don't give a damn. Fuck em, every last one of 'em.

  Now he understood, that this is why he'd been called into the Fifth. To pick up after the apathetic bullshit of Azure cops in a dying Demesne, help them do a song and dance for the Civic Order while it crumbled from the inside out.

  Please, God, don't let anyone be dead.

  Caleb pulled into the lot, to see that a group of Civilians were standing or sitting at the edge. Steeling himself, he got out of his vehicle and pulled his weapon, in the same moment realizing how stupid he had been. Even if a raid were happening, how the hell was he supposed to stop it alone? He hadn't seen any suspicious activity on his way in, but as he walked to the group, he understood that perhaps Koa wasn't the only danger to look out for. The Civilians were staring, holding all manners of bludgeoning miscellany, and none of them looked particularly happy to see him.