Brink: A Dystopian Sci-Fi Novel (Rogue Spark Book 2)

by Cameron Coral

  “I can’t even find my own job right now, much less hire someone.” Ida placed a hand on her hip. Lucy noticed she still wore black gloves, even though she’d ditched her jacket.

  How could it be that strong, fierce adults like Ida couldn’t find work? What did it say about her own future in Spark City? “What did you do before you came here?” asked Lucy.

  Ida sighed. “Medic. I was in the military.”

  “Oh.” An idea struck Lucy. “I could come around and help anyway? I could stop by and do cleaning in exchange for something.”

  Ida’s eyes narrowed. “In exchange for what?”

  “I want to learn how to fight and protect myself. You seem like you would know all that from your military days.”

  “You want me to teach you how to fight, and you’ll unpack my stuff, clean my house, and do my gardening?” said Ida.

  “Yeah. It would be a great bargain for you,” said Lucy hoping her offer was good enough.

  “I’ll think about it. I have a lot going on right now. Things are…complicated.” Ida shifted, about to close the door.

  “Wait.” Lucy propped a hand against the door. “I have something for you.” She dug into the pockets of her shoulder bag, searching. She pulled out a small red flyer and offered it to Ida. “It’s for an art show at a street market.”

  Lucy waited as Ida took the flyer and raised an eyebrow as she read it. “My paintings will be on display!” she said. “It would be awesome if you could come by.”

  Lucy’s smile was contagious, and Ida couldn’t stop a small smile in return. “I’ll think about it. Gotta go.”

  “Ok, see ya,” said Lucy as the door closed.

  Lucy skipped away on the path home, delighted she’d made progress. Lost in thought, she collided with Paul, a neighborhood friend, on the path. Usually he could be found outside an old abandoned basketball court where he often loitered, smoking the occasional cigarette when he could score one.

  They had briefly gone to the same high school before she was forced to find work to support her mother. Normally, she would say hello and goodbye, maybe hang for a minute, but this time he’d convinced her to listen to a story. Something seemed different about him today.

  Lucy had always thought he was a good guy. They were both seventeen although she was his senior by six months.

  With a convincing demeanor, Paul told her a strange story she couldn’t believe. He claimed he’d been taken hostage in the main square of Spark City’s R Section, and shot by police bots. A lady had grabbed him and taken him to an alley. Paul wasn’t usually one to tell outlandish stories.

  Lucy trekked up a small hill toward the forested path.

  “But wait, I haven’t told you the best part,” said Paul as he matched her stride.

  Lucy rolled her eyes. “Paul, I don’t have time for this now. Catch you later, okay?”

  “She healed my gunshot wound with her bare hands! I don’t know how she did it. I was passing out, maybe I had passed out. About to die. I saw white light and shit!”

  Lucy had made it in view of her apartment building. She couldn’t wait to get home, check on her mom, and catch up on painting.

  Paul jogged in front of her and stopped, blocking her path. “Please. You gotta believe me.”

  “What do you mean she healed you?” Lucy finally asked.

  “I don’t know exactly.” Paul’s voice had less edge. “I mean, I think I was about to die, and she…” He stuffed his hands in his coat pockets. “She saved my life.”

  “No way. Where did you get shot? Let me see the wound.”

  “I’m not shitting you, I swear. But the wound—it’s gone, vanished, kaput.” Paul pulled his shirt up above his belly to show her his left side, where he’d presumably been shot. Lucy inspected it and saw no scar or evidence of injury.

  “Are you sure you didn’t take one of Jason Logan’s special mushrooms?” said Lucy with a smirk.

  “Shut up.” Paul pulled his shirt down and glanced away. “I knew nobody would believe me.”

  “Who else have you told?” she asked.

  “Nobody. I thought if anyone would believe me, you would.” He stared at her. “You see things other people don’t.”

  “What?” Lucy laughed and punched his arm.

  “No, really. With your painting and how you are. You’re different than other people. I thought you might believe me. Maybe we could find the lady again. I can’t get her out of my mind. I’ve even had dreams about her.”

  “Whoa. You like her,” Lucy teased.

  He elbowed her gently. “Shut up. It’s not like that.” He turned to her. “I just think she could help a lot of people.”

  Ten

  Inside the dilapidated conservatory she now called home, Ida rested on an unopened steel trunk containing most of her scant belongings. Soldiers traveled light. She hadn’t bothered unpacking.

  She could get used to gazing up at the high, dome-shaped ceiling. Old and broken, the place suited her. Fading sunlight managed to stream in through the glass panes where overgrown ivy hadn’t yet spread to cover them.

  She pulled out her biocuff and the small device Gatz had given her and connected them. She jumped, startled as the device suddenly projected a holographic display in her front room.

  The image showed a well-coiffed man in a suit strolling along a downtown Spark City avenue on a sunny day. He began speaking:

  Welcome to Spark City—a city of the future. Your future.

  Journey with me on a tour of the city.

  I’m Vance Drem, Spark City’s mayor.

  My vision for Spark City is clear: A future that matters.

  #1 on my agenda is safety.

  The video showed Vance entering a factory where machines built police robots on assembly lines.

  That’s right, Spark City will be the first city in the world to have a police force made entirely of androids.

  Why does this matter? Because cybernetic police are never biased and never corrupt.

  In Spark City, rest assured you are safe.

  Our officers will work around the clock, never needing rest to keep you safe.

  Suddenly the scene showed a little blonde girl riding a tricycle on the street. She rode by a gang of rough-looking men who followed her. Just as they caught up to her, she halted at the feet of a tall android. She gazed up, and the robot cop patted her tiny head.

  The robot gently placed her aside and said, “Men, stop where you are. This is Spark City police.” Ida watched as the men slowly backed away, scanning for an escape, only to see four other robot police approaching.

  Vance entered the frame:

  You see, dangerous situations like this can be avoided.

  Because my police force is never tired and doesn’t need food or fuel, they’re always on.

  My vision is to have police on every corner to keep you, the fine citizens of Spark City, safe. And keep the criminals locked up.

  Vote Vance Drem for Spark City mayor.

  A close shot of a handsome, smiling Vance finished the ad:

  I’m Vance Drem, and I approve this ad.

  Several seconds passed before another scene appeared— the downtown square, site of the hostage disaster. The footage was amateur—probably captured by an onlooker. A wave of robot soldiers advanced from street to sidewalk, and rolled through the square. They commenced firing their weapons into the crowd with no regard for anyone. A woman, strafed with bullets, slammed to the ground. The footage grew shaky and ended abruptly.

  Gatz had said the video was an education on the mayor. From what she could tell, the police force that Vance Drem had promised would keep citizens safe definitely preferred killing innocent bystanders.

  Not only was the mayor bad news, he was deadly. Could he be stopped, and what was Gatz up to? Ida knew if she were found with this footage, she’d wind up arrested or dead.

  Outside, she burned the device in a small fire, hypnotized by the glowing flames.

  Eleven
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  The minutes ticked by in the small, dimly lit Spark City General hospital room. The nurses had given Vance a private room and asked his men to wait outside, but they caved when he flashed his smile and told them they looked lovely today, and surely his men could sit quietly in the room—he needed them for moral support.

  Jennifer, one of the nurses on duty, a blonde who looked to be in her mid-forties, arched her eyebrows and tapped one foot nervously. Had she been pretty once? He thought so.

  Vance was in luck. A young, mid-twenties nurse named Kate attended him. With long, dark brown hair, she was petite and fit, and Vance knew he would have her in bed that night. She hadn’t been able to pick her mouth off the floor or string a sentence together after meeting the dashing, single mayor.

  “You dropped this, Miss,” said Vance as he leaned over from his seated position on the hospital bed and retrieved a small bag of liquid Kate had dropped. She managed to utter a squeaky thank you and blushed.

  “The drip machine, Kate,” said nurse Jennifer between her teeth. Vance enjoyed his power trip and the fact he could shut down the hospital on a whim if he felt like it.

  Vance smiled at Kate as he reclined on the hospital bed. “You are lovely. You remind me of my mother.”

  The young nurse smiled, regaining her composure at his compliment. “Does your mother live in Spark City, Mr. Mayor?”

  “Indeed.” Vance smiled. “My mother is very dear to me. She lives in a safe place, very close to me.”

  Nurse Jennifer pulled the IV machine next to his bedside and approached him.

  “Can she do that instead?” Vance nodded in Kate’s direction.

  Jennifer pressed her lips in a tight line as she slid the machine toward the younger nurse and stepped aside to observe.

  Kate took over, hands trembling as she touched the skin of his right arm, tying off his bicep with a band, searching for a vein. She glanced at his other side, not allowing her gaze to linger on the cybernetic forearm. “Tell us about your mother,” she said.

  Vance caressed her arm gently. “My mother has the truest heart you can imagine, but she had a tough life.”

  The young nurse fumbled with the needle preparation as he continued.

  “She was a young mother, and it wasn’t her choice to have me. She was raped when she was only fourteen. So, she left me on the steps of the Dresden House orphanage when I was an infant. She was poor and couldn’t take care of me.”

  “Oh, goodness,” said Kate. “I’m so sorry. How awful.”

  Nurse Jennifer edged closer to the bed. “I’m sorry too. I heard Dresden was a bad place—rough. It burned down about ten years ago, right?”

  Vance nodded. “Don’t be sorry.” Vance fixed his penetrating blue eyes on Jennifer. “The orphanage shaped who I am today. I came out stronger. I found those men who hurt my mother and punished them.” His thoughts flickered back to the years he’d spent tracking down the men who had assaulted and abused his mother. He hadn’t known which one had been his father and hadn’t cared. He wanted one thing—to watch them slowly bleed to death.

  After he had hunted and killed his mother’s assailants, he turned his attention to Dresden House—the orphanage where he’d suffered years of torment. Vance turned the old building of his childhood into a fireball with his former schoolmasters inside.

  Dr. Acre opened the door leading into the room, reading his computer tablet as he strode in. A tall man, he offered his large hand to Vance. “Ah, Mayor Drem, nice to see you. I have your test results.”

  The doctor noted Kate’s lack of progress. “Jennifer, can you please take over? The other nurse can be excused.”

  Jennifer tapped her shoulder and whispered, “Please go now, doctor’s orders.” The young nurse asked no questions and did as she’d been told, stealing a last longing glance at Vance as she departed.

  After Jennifer set up Vance’s drip properly and slid the needle into his arm, the doctor excused her too. Alone with Vance and his two men, Dr. Acre removed his glasses and took a seat on the edge of the bed. “I have the results of your recent tests.”

  Vance placed his cybernetic hand across his stomach and leaned forward. “What is the news?”

  Dr. Acre eyed Vance’s men seated in two gray chairs on either side of the door. “You’ll want to be alone for this,” he said quietly.

  Vance said, “J-Man, Singlet, leave.” Without hesitation, they rose and exited. “Now Doc, let’s get down to business. What’s the damage?”

  “Unfortunately, the new medication you’ve been injecting—electric blue—isn’t working as I expected.”

  Vance leaned against the bed, considering the news. The color drained from his face. He started tapping his metal fingers slowly.

  The doctor continued, speaking faster now. “The results simply aren’t showing an increase in white blood cells. In fact, we should stop it immediately, as it appears your body may be having an adverse reaction to the blue—”

  In an instant, Vance leaped from the bed and grabbed the doctor by the collars of his white coat. “You—” His face contorted as he said, “Promised me.” He threw the doctor onto the floor where he lay supine, arms raised in a defensive position. His glasses had fallen off, and his tablet had slid into a far corner. “Please, there’s still hope.” He breathed in and out heavily, straining to compose himself.

  Vance began pacing the small room, his arms jerking in contorted movements. “Hope,” he said. “Do you think I had hope as an orphan, tortured and forced to do unspeakable things?”

  The doctor stared at Vance in fear and was met with a sharp kick to the side. Acre curled up in pain.

  “I’ll ask again, Doctor.” Vance knelt and grabbed the man, bringing them face-to-face. “Do you think my mother had hope as a fourteen-year-old schoolgirl who suddenly found herself knocked up after being attacked by a group of men?”

  Acre cowered, arms raised to cover his head.

  “Oh yes,” said Vance. “I looked her up—finally located mommy all those years after she abandoned me.”

  The doctor grunted, and tears streamed from his eyes as Vance started to choke him.

  “Do you think there was any chance of hope for her when she was forced to leave school and work in factories, fearing for her life every day and waiting for the bad men to attack her again?”

  Vance laughed as he cut off the doctor’s air supply. “Well, I hunted down those men, and I captured them. I brought my lovely mother to visit them as they were dying.”

  The doctor’s face started turning blue and his tongue lolled.

  “Do you know what my mother said to me after I captured those men who hurt her? She said to me, ‘You must forgive them.’ Ha! Utter bullshit, Dr. Acre.”

  Rage filled Vance as the memories of his mother flooded him. He would never forget the sting of her disappointment, her rejection of his vengeance. His staff had discovered her the next day after she had tried to end her life with a bottle of painkillers. He loved her, but he would never forgive the men who had hurt her or the sins of Dresden House.

  Vance released the doctor’s body, which slid onto the floor. He rose and straightened his suit, peering down at the lifeless man. “There is no such thing as hope. We make our choices.”

  He picked up the doctor’s tablet from the corner and opened the door. J-Man and Singlet glanced inside, taking in the doctor’s body. Vance breezed past and handed J-Man the tablet. “Find out what’s on here.”

  In the hallway, Vance rolled down his sleeves with a quick motion, and he pulled his suit jacket on. He looked fresh from a magazine shoot instead of a murder.

  “Quiz time, Singlet.” Vance started talking over his shoulder as the men fell in line behind him. “How many doctors does that make now?”

  Singlet paused a few moments, counting on his fingers. “That’d be seven, sir.”

  “Seven have failed me! Time to find a new method, gentlemen. I’m done with doctors.” As they traveled through the busy lobby of
Spark City General, he spied the nurses. With a flourish, he bowed toward them and extended his right arm to Kate. “You’re coming with me, lovely,” he said as he flashed a smile. “Have you ever been to my restaurant, The Phoenix?”

  She hesitated, then quickly joined Vance at his side. Jennifer glared at them, arms crossed, mouth a straight line of disapproval.

  With the young nurse on his arm, Vance strolled out of the lobby onto a dense Spark City street where they climbed into a black, armored cruiser. His men followed the pair inside, and they ascended.

  Twelve

  Lucy considered Paul’s story as she climbed the stairs to her apartment. Had he told the truth? His story was beyond nuts. No way had he been cured of a gunshot wound, but he’d made it sound so real.

  The old elevator had long been out of service, but eight flights of stairs passed quickly with so much on her mind. Paul had said goodbye at the front door, starting the half-mile journey to his own apartment, which he shared with his brothers and an uncle.

  She had the key in the door and started turning it when she smelled it. Oh no. Cigarette smoke. Someone else was in the apartment. Her mom wasn’t a smoker—the one vice she didn’t have.

  Before she could reconsider her decision to enter, the door flew open, and her body tipped forward from the force.

  “We don’t want none,” said a man with dark hair and a short, scruffy beard. His crooked, blue, button-down shirt was slightly open, revealing a white tank top underneath, and he wore a silver chain around his neck.

  He side stepped and motioned Lucy inside. His cigarette drooped from the side of his mouth, and he let ashes drop all over the floor.