Flame

by Jim Heskett

  Tenney glanced at her, wetness in his eyes. Maybe he’d thought Yorick and Rosia would abandon him now that they’d finished their journey.

  “I’m so sorry about Malina,” she said. “We’re still with you if you want us.”

  Tenney nodded and turned his attention back to his meal.

  A strange sensation passed through Yorick, like a wave of extreme exhaustion. Then, he realized it wasn’t that. More like a weight to his body. It reminded him of when he’d been thirteen years old, on the plantación, and he’d broken his arm. The doctor had given him an injection, and then he’d felt as light as air and as heavy as a boulder, both at the same time.

  The feeling intensified. Yorick swayed in his chair. He looked up at Rosia, and her eyes fluttered. She wasn’t right, either.

  And then, Yorick thought about his parents mentioning how impressed they were that he and his friends had hiked down here from Jackson. He hadn’t told his parents where they’d come from.

  Tenney shifted, and the former farm serf groaned as he fell out of his chair.

  Rosia watched Tenney slip from the chair, and the realization passed through her like a ghost. Memories blinked into existence like stars appearing in twilight as the day faded. She remembered where she had seen Olivia and Laertes before.

  At the plantación.

  They had been among the groups of well-dressed visitors who would occasionally come through the plantación walls to do business with Wybert. They would arrive in their fancy vehicles, disappear inside the mansion, then come out minutes or hours later. Sometimes, they arrived in large transport trucks, bringing groups of children to become serfs.

  These two were slavers from the First City of Denver.

  “Yorick,” she said, her words slow, her mouth moving like a thick syrup. He tried to turn his head toward her, but it slowly drifted down, toward the table.

  Something was very wrong here.

  Tenney was already prone on the tile, and Yorick slid from his chair and thunked on the floor, next to Tenney.

  Danger sensors fired inside Rosia’s brain, but she couldn’t seem to force herself to do anything about it.

  She tried to push herself up, but when she placed her hands on the table, she had no strength. Her eyes drifted down to Tenney and Yorick, both of them now on the floor with eyes closed. Were they dead? No, Yorick’s chest still rose and fell. Tenney’s left eyelid fluttered as if in the middle of a dream.

  Her chair moved. Someone was moving it. The world shifted in and out of phase as her eyes begged to slam shut and she expended tremendous energy to keep them open. Her body bounced on clouds.

  The chair she sat in spun around. She found herself face to face with Olivia. “This one’s not out yet,” Olivia said to Laertes, hovering behind her.

  “What… you…” Rosia said. Her mouth stopped working after that.

  “I know,” Olivia said. “Just go to sleep. It’s okay.”

  “There’s nothing in the bags,” Laertes said. “Just some battle suits and guns. I can’t believe they would have come all this way without taking something useful from there.”

  “Maybe they stashed it in town, in a safe spot?”

  Laertes stroked his chin, considering. “I suppose once we’ve got them situated we’ll be in a better spot to ask questions.” Then, his eyes jumped wide open. “Wait. Wait. I have an idea.”

  Rosia’s shoe slipped off her foot. Laertes was kneeling in front of her, digging a finger around inside her shoe. “Got one! You’re not going to believe what’s in here. It’s better than we’d hoped for.”

  “What is it?” Olivia asked.

  He angled his body so she could see the control chip in his hand. “Is that what I think it is?” she asked.

  Laertes nodded. “Can you believe this? Check their shoes. All of them.”

  As Olivia moved around to take off Yorick and Tenney’s shoes, Laertes held up the chip in front of her face. “Thank you for this, my dear. You probably have no idea what this is, do you? You have no idea what this little device is capable of. That idiot Wybert didn’t even fully understand it himself. We’ve been wanting to get our hands on one of these for years.”

  Rosia tried to speak. Muted anger raced up and down her body, but her facial muscles didn’t work. She wanted to bear her teeth at them, but her mouth lolled open. A cascade of drool trickled out from her lower lip. She tried to make her mouth say, you sold your son to a monster, but the words wouldn’t come.

  Olivia returned and knelt next to her husband. “I understand Wybert is dead,” she asked of Rosia. “Is it true? We hear rumors, but nothing verified.” Then, she smiled. “Of course, you can’t answer. I’m surprised you’re still conscious.”

  Rosia made a grunting sound, and it came out of her throat like a wet cough.

  “It’s no matter,” Olivia said. “We were going to steal the robot-training technology for ourselves. But now, we don’t have to. Thank you, young Rosia. You have no idea how grateful we are and how much your sacrifice will do to secure the future.”

  Rosia fought to keep her eyes open, but they drifted shut. As her head lolled forward, she smelled the soup again, a second before she drifted into unconsciousness.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Rosia’s eyes blinked open, then they shut again. She realized a few things at once, in a hazy, confusing sort of way.

  She was upright. Seated. The pressure on her cula1 told her she was in a chair. Her shoulders were at an odd angle because her hands had been forced behind her back. Tied with rope or something like it. When she tried to wriggle free, her hands refused to move. Feet wouldn’t either. Her ankles were tied to the legs of the chair.

  Her eyes flicked open again, and she looked down to see a concrete floor. The smell of chemicals. A shelf on the wall contained tools. Garage.

  She was seated next to a large vehicle, like a modified van. It had armor plating on the sides, and slits along the back. This was a transport truck, armored and probably armed.

  Who in the stars were Olivia and Laertes that they would have such a serious van?

  The door at the far end of the room opened, and light spilled in. Olivia stood in the doorway. She called back to somewhere out of sight, “This one is awake.” She mumbled something Rosia couldn’t hear and then nodded a few times. “Okay, I’ll be careful. but, we should leave as soon as possible.”

  Olivia sauntered into the room and dropped down to kneel in front of Rosia. “You’re angry.”

  “I’m confused,” Rosia said, her jaw still as thick as syrup and her words slow. “How could you do this to your son? How could you leave him to grow up as a slave, forced to play war games for that wicked man?”

  “I don’t expect you to understand. Any answer I could give you would take hours to explain. I don’t know how long you were there, but I would suspect most of your life, too. Well, young lady, I will tell you this: you have no idea what it takes to survive out here. No idea at all.”

  Rosia tried to gather saliva to spit in Olivia’s face, but her mouth was too dry. So, instead, she sneered. “I’m going to kill you. I wish I could do so much more than that, but I will settle for ending your life.”

  Olivia smiled a sad smile. “Now, you’re angry.”

  “Are Yorick and Tenney alive?”

  “Oh, yes, of course. You’re no good to us dead.” She smiled. “I always wondered what Franco would have been like as a young man. And to see he’s turned into someone so brave and valiant... it's wonderful. I expect you had a hand in that.”

  “His name is Yorick. Not Franco.”

  Olivia nodded. “Of course.”

  “What’s going to happen to us?”

  “We’ll take you down to Denver. You’re still young, and you can fetch a good price.” Then, she held up a clear baggie containing the control chips. They dangled in space, these innocent-looking objects that had been the cause of so much pain.

  “Then,” Olivia said, “we’re going to get
down to business. I’m sorry that you’ll probably be in Denver when the war starts. But, there’s a good chance you’ll be dead already. You thought Wybert’s plantación was tough? Wait until you see how they use up and spit out people in the capital city. It will make your head spin. But, better to be crushed under the boot of some small-time hustler with dreams of riches than to see the gunk on the inside of the machine. What we do is a dirty business, and I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. You don’t know this yet, but we’re doing you a favor.”

  Olivia stood, but Rosia said, “Wait.”

  The older lady paused, eyebrows raised.

  “Did you know my parents? I entered the plantación soon after Yorick did. Maybe a month or two.”

  Olivia sighed as she dropped to a knee again. She got close to Rosia, eyes darting back and forth, studying her features. “Is Rosia your real first name?”

  She frowned, her lower lip quivering. “I don’t know.”

  “Well, I can’t say for sure, but you do look a bit like a couple I knew from Cheyenne. We had some dealings with them a long time ago, but I don’t know if they had kids, or if they did, how they lost them.”

  “What were their names?”

  “It doesn’t matter. If you are their kid, you’re too late. They were killed by King Nichol five years ago. He likes to make examples of people he thinks could possibly betray him.” Olivia’s face changed, softening. “What would you want with your parents, anyway?”

  “Answers.”

  Olivia sighed as she gave a slow shake of the head. “There aren’t answers. For any of us. We keep moving forward, doing what we think is best.” She stood and dusted off her hands. “Anything else?”

  Rosia looked up at this woman. So many emotions ran through her. The betrayal, the lies, the careless way they could treat a person as a thing and somehow view it as virtuous. Instead, all she said was, “I meant it when I said I am going to kill you.”

  1 Cula: butt

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Valentine spent a while wandering the area, hunting for Yorick and his two remaining companions. They’d only eluded her a few minutes before, and they couldn’t have gone far. Her heart still raced from the pursuit.

  If there were any soldados behind her, they weren’t actively on her trail. And, since she didn’t know which way to run, she slowed down. Her targets had to be close by. Had to be.

  But every time she turned a corner, she found nothing except empty neighborhood streets. Defeat after defeat. Maybe it was the time of day or the day of the week, but it seemed oddly abandoned for such a good-sized city.

  For a long moment, as she strolled, she had to ask herself if she’d lost her edge. Maybe being on the wrong side of thirty meant she no longer possessed the drive and the stamina necessary to win. These were kids after all. A quartet—now a trio, actually—who had beaten her on multiple occasions over the last week.

  Maybe it was best that Red, Blaine, and Galeno weren’t around to see her fail so spectacularly. Any outside observer would remark how her whole week had been spent trying to catch up when she should have found a way to gain control of the situation. That’s what true hunters do.

  A man walking a large dog came down the sidewalk toward her. The first person she’d seen lately that wasn’t trying to shoot her. This was an odd sight, mostly due to the dog. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen one of those in Wyoming. At least, not one kept as a pet. An archaic practice, as far as she was concerned.

  She raised a hand and stashed her weapon behind her back, then put herself in the man’s path. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Good day and kind weather,” he said, coming to a halt. “How can I help?” He was a tall thing, with scars under both of his eyes and faded tattoos along his exposed arms. Not White Flames, for sure. But, maybe affiliated with some other organization. The tattoos did seem vaguely familiar.

  “Have you seen two guys and a girl running through here? All of them are young, and one of the males is quite large. They would have been frantic, like pigs in a slaughterhouse.”

  The man shook his head. “Sorry, I haven’t seen anything like that. Been pretty quiet out here, from what I can see. Just out for a quick walk with Blue.” He jiggled the dog’s leash.

  With a sigh, Valentine whipped the rifle around and put a bullet in his chest, sending him to the ground with a single shot. The dog yipped and tried to skitter away, but it only reached the end of the leash, still clutched in the dying man’s hand. Valentine swung the rifle behind her back and dropped to one knee. She held a hand out toward the dog, and it hesitated at first, then shuffled toward her, terrified.

  Valentine ruffled the dog’s neck fur as she unbuckled its collar. “You’re free, Blue. Good luck out there, and don’t let anyone enslave you again.”

  The dog fled, and she hurried on, in case others came to check out the fuss. There wasn’t anyone else out on this street at the moment, but that could change quickly.

  There weren’t many visible in this town at all, actually. Valentine hadn’t been here in a few years, and it seemed a mass exodus had occurred since then. Or, maybe people didn’t like to live on this side of town, so close to the wall and the soldados and all that mess.

  So, it should have been easy to find her targets, but she didn’t know where to start. Randomly walking along neighborhood sidewalks, hoping for a glimpse of them was a terrible plan.

  An idea sprang to life, which made her shift the hip bag around and dig through it. Galeno’s hip bag. His key was sitting right there. The key to his storage facility on 8th Street. Maybe she truly was losing her edge since it had taken her so long to think of it.

  Valentine held the key in her hand, turning it over and over. She’d known she wouldn’t be with Galeno and the others forever, but they were her boys. And she did miss them. They’d deserved better than to be posted on a pikes outside of Rock Springs by the king’s pinche soldados.

  She wondered if the soldados had actually killed them, or only found them already dead in town and had put them on pikes. Entirely possible they’d met an end some other way. Maybe even her targets killed them.

  Valentine hustled down to 8th and hopped the storage facility fence. She looked at the identical rows of buildings with their orange garages and tried to recall the specific number. It wasn’t written on the key, probably as a security measure.

  She pictured Galeno, his smile, the way his eyes used to light up. She thought of the last time they’d been here. He’d mentioned he had a couch inside the garage and they could spend the night on it. His relentless pursuit of her was as charming as it was annoying.

  Row 2, Garage 12.

  She sprinted over to that garage and inserted the key. Sure enough, it turned on the first try. She rolled up the door and gazed at the contents within. The car was still there, a little dusty, but looking sharp and clean. She plugged it into the charging port and gazed through the window to check out the dashboard reading. Battery still had 40% charge left anyway, so no need to wait around for it to have enough juice to drive.

  Valentine picked through a few boxes, collecting random weapons when she noticed a large case sitting on top of a stack of crates at the end. Curious. She didn’t remember ever seeing that before. What sorts of secrets had Galeno been keeping in here?

  The case was unlocked, and when she swung it up, her eyes shot wide open. “Oh, my stars,” she said. “That’s going to come in handy.”

  She took the case and slid it into the back seat of the car, then got in and started it up. The old Honda grumbled but sprang to life without much trouble. Galeno had only ever let her drive it one time. But, she had to believe he would want her to have it.

  She pulled out of the storage facility and began to cruise around town, looking for two men and one woman, in possession of an unknown number of Ramirez Control Chips. A bounty to set Valentine up for life.

  A half hour passed. Up and down the neighborhood streets, peering t
hrough open windows when possible. Almost no cars out right now. Any she did see didn’t have her targets within. Only random Harmony residents, out doing the things Harmony residents did.

  That’s why, when she saw the large truck, an impulse told her to follow it. It wasn’t any normal truck. This was a beast, an armored thing with reinforced glass and steel. No markings on the side, which made it even more intriguing to her.

  Valentine watched it pass, then she pulled behind it and followed for a couple of kilometers. When it made a turn at the western edge of town, she grinned.

  She knew exactly where they were going.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Yorick sat with the others in the back of the van as it sped along the city streets. He knew the interior well because Wybert had owned one like it on the plantación. Spacious, enough room for half a dozen people on the inside. Except this van had been modified. The seats had been removed, and there were rows of bench seating pushed up against opposite walls. Rings had been welded to those benches, and he and his two companions were handcuffed to the rings. Olivia and Laertes sat up front, separated from the captives in the back by a wire mesh barrier.

  When Yorick gazed around the interior of the van, he came to an inevitable and devastating conclusion: his parents were slavers. They hadn’t sold him to Wybert out of a sense of desperation and the need to survive. Jettisoning their own son had been a deliberate business decision. An opportunity to shed unwanted baggage and profit from it at the same time.

  He might have felt rage, were the depression not so severe. He didn’t know if he’d ever felt lower than this in his entire life. Prior to this moment, the day he’d come to accept his lifelong fate as a serf to Lord Wybert had been the absolute lowest.

  This was so much worse. Partly, because he had delivered not only himself to this fate, but also Tenney and Rosia. And, he didn’t even want to think about how Malina had already given her life for the cause.