Ghetto

by M L Sparrow

  “However,” he continues smoothly, “let’s get back to the reason I called this press conference. In our investigation following the release of that damaging footage, we have uncovered a smuggling ring that is getting things inside of the Ghetto.” My heart stops. My first though it that they had discovered everything Joel is doing to help the Ghetto Folk, but why would that be newsworthy? “A shipment of guns meant to equip the soldiers at Fort Brock was intercepted by a gang of eight men, disguised in balaclavas, on the 8th June. One of the perpetrators is said to have been without a Brand. As you all know, this is illegal, as it threatens the very foundations of our society, therefore, it is our belief that the gang originated from the Ghetto, since it would be impossible for someone without a Brand to go unnoticed within the city for an extended period of time. How they escaped from the Ghetto, or what they plan to do with the weapons they acquired is yet unknown, but, believe me, we are doing everything in our power to find the answers and keep our city safe so that you can all sleep soundly at night.”

  My head is still spinning as he winds up his speech, thanking his suddenly stunned audience for listening. Of course, my first instinct is to label everything he has said as a lie, but the wheels in my head are turning. That day I first escaped and Sin caught me, he had a black eye and a ripped sleeve… It couldn’t have been far into the summer months, the 8th of June would fit perfectly.

  I don’t realize I’m biting my nail until I feel a sharp pain. Looking down, I see blood. One of the fake fingernails Micah had stuck on is hanging off and it’s taken my real fingernail with it. The sight makes me feel sick, as does the realization that Sin could be planning to do something really bad with those guns, if he is involved.

  Turning slowly, I climb down from the stage and head off down the street. I can sense people casting me curious looks as I push past the police guarding the stage, but I don’t care. Nor do I care about the camera flashes that follow me, I just continue on my way. When I reach the city boundaries, I realize that it’s going to be impossible to sneak through this time because there are guards everywhere. One of them breaks position and heads towards me. The dry, knee length grass, tickles my legs and bare feet as I go to meet him.

  “I’m sorry, Miss, but this is a restricted area, you can’t come any further.” The fence is looming behind him, crackling with electricity, just a few more steps and I’ll be there, but he’s blocking my way.

  Putting on my snobbiest tone, I say, “I’m Sunny Beaumont, my dad is the President, and I’d like you to open the gate.”

  Observing me closely, he nods after a moment. “I do recognise you from the TV, Miss Beaumont, but I still can’t let you past without your fathers’ express permission. Does he know you’re here?”

  “Yes,” I lie without missing a beat, lifting my chin arrogantly.

  “If I phone him will he confirm that?”

  My jaw ticks. Over his shoulder, beyond the fence, a young boy is standing atop one of the garbage piles, watching us. I recognize him, but only vaguely, like someone I’d seen but never spoken to. Our gazes lock. He nods, before turning and running away. Sin will know I was here in a matter of minutes.

  “I wouldn’t bother him if I were you,” I say to the guard, already backing away, “he’s very busy at the moment and he won’t appreciate the interruption. I’ll just come back another time.”

  Returning to the apartment, I change quickly into an old pair of jeans and a plain t.shirt. I’m just about to head back out, in the hopes of getting into the Ghetto through the subway tunnels, when my laptop pings loudly to announce an incoming message. Immediately I know it’s Sin, or at least a message from him. And I’m right. Technically it’s from Joel and all it says it that someone will meet me at ten pm at the usual place. However, that seems like far too long to wait, since it’s only four now, so I decide to stick to my original plan.

  Taking a car to the school, I find the entrance to the tunnel we’d used the very first time I went with Sin to collect food. Thankfully, it’s unguarded, but then unless you knew what you were looking for you wouldn’t suspect anything.

  Inside the tunnel, I use the man-made hook to pull the lid back over the hole in the pavement, plunging myself into darkness. Luckily, I came prepared. Fishing the torch out of the front pocket of my jeans, I click it on and the tunnel fills with bright, yellow light. It’s small and thin, compact, but it still does a better job than the torches Sin has, which is why I have several more in my pockets to give to him. With the torch lighting my way, as bright as the sunlight it is powered by, I follow the tunnel straight. There are several turn offs, but I don’t remember having taken any of them when I was with the others so I keep true, wading through the dirty water. I don’t wear a watch, so there is no way for me to tell how long I walk for, but it feels like hours and I begin to wonder if I’ve done the right thing in coming down here. Maybe I should have waited for Sin to come to me. I think I may have gone the wrong way; I don’t remember it taking this long the first time around. Shivering, despite the stuffy heat in the sewer, I lift my hand to my mouth, nervously chewing at the fake nails still overlaying my own. Pausing, I glance over my shoulder and consider turning back. However, I’ve been walking so long and the exit I’m looking for could be just a few steps further on.

  “Just a little further,” I whisper to myself and continue my fruitless trudging.

  “You’re goin’ the wrong way.” A voice says suddenly through the darkness. Starting violently, I shriek, whirling around just as Sin steps into the torch light, appearing from behind me.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I cry, hand over my pounding heart, “You scared the life out of me!”

  “Thought you might like to know you missed the turning about a mile back,” he shrugs, the glaring torch light making his blond hair shine white.

  Narrowing my eyes on him, I ask, “How long have you been following me?”

  “About a mile.” His lips twitch, but it may have been a trick of the light.

  “And you didn’t think to stop me sooner?” I arch a brow at him, irritation bubbling beneath the surface, “I suppose you’ve just been following me, laughing.”

  “Did you hear me laughing?” Sin asks reasonably, coming closer. Reaching for my hand, he seems surprised when I draw away. He frowns, “What’s wrong?”

  “Were you the one who stole all those guns?” I demand. The way his face pales, all amusement slipping away, answers my question for me. “What are you planning to do with them?” When he doesn’t answer, I cross my arms and snap, “Well? Are you going to answer me or not?”

  “We were desperate, but it’s all changed now. With what you’re doin’, we don’t need to go to such extremes.”

  “What were you planning?” Once again, his guilty silence speaks for itself and my mind jumps to the most logical conclusion. “Assassination?” His eyes refuse to meet mine. “My dad?”

  “It was before I knew you,” he says quietly after a minute.

  “That makes it right, does it? The fact that you didn’t personally know his daughter.”

  “What do you want me to say, Sunny? I’m not gunna say sorry, ‘cos I’m not. Your dad’s a dick.”

  “So, he deserves to be shot?”

  “Do we deserve to starve, to freeze in the winter, to die because we have no medicine or doctors? Your dad did that to us!”

  “He didn’t make the laws, he’s just stuck to them and I know that isn’t right and you don’t deserve it, but it’s not right to kill someone either. I thought you were trying to be a peaceful group?”

  “We made the plan in a moment of weakness, Sunny, we were tired of being ignored. But you don’t need to worry about that anymore, we’ve decided against it.”

  “Where are they now?”

  “Well hidden.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay.”

  Slowly, we head back the way we’d come, with him leading the way, se
veral steps in front. We go the whole way in silence and when we reach the turning, which I’m not quite sure how I managed to bypass, Sin pauses. Hands stuffed deep into his pockets, he turns to face me, “You goin’ back, or you wanna come see the others, they’ve been askin’ about you?”

  “Is it safe?”

  “Think I’d take you if it weren’t?” he snaps, scowling.

  “Why are you angry at me?” I snap back.

  “I’m not angry.”

  “Yes, you are.” I argue, “I’m the one who should be angry.”

  “You are angry, the people on the street above could probably hear you stompin’ along back there.”

  “Well you were going to assassinate my dad and he is the only family I have.”

  “Were! Not anymore.”

  “You still thought about it. Not to mention stealing a truck load of guns.”

  “We’re not going to use them,” Sin reiterates loudly, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

  “But you still have them. What happens if things start to go downhill again, are you going to return to your original plan?”

  “No.”

  “Can you guarantee that?”

  “You’re not goin’ to let this go are you?”

  “No.”

  “Fine. I’ll see you another time, you know the way back.” And with that he turns around and disappears into the darkness, the shadows closing around him as he steps out of the torch light.

  For several moments, I’m too stunned to speak as I watch him retreat with my mouth hanging open, but then my voice returns. “Sin,” I yell furiously, “Sin! Don’t just walk away from me.” I take a few steps as if to follow him, before stopping. Why should I chase him? I’m not the one in the wrong here, not this time. But if I let him leave like this, does that mean we’re over? Indecisive, slightly scared, I just stand there for a minute, biting my nails. In the end though, my pride wins.

  Chapter 21

  Back home, I stomp angrily down the hall to my bedroom. I’d had the walk home to work my rage back up to boiling point. I could have gotten in a car, but the bottoms of my jeans and trainers are still dripping sewage water. How dare he just walk away? How dare he! Jumping in the shower, I wash myself roughly before stomping across the hall to my room. Flinging myself onto the bed, I lob the pillows onto the floor and give the mattress a few good punches. I can’t believe he did that, walked away as if my feelings and opinions weren’t even worth listening to. The uncomfortable lumps in my pocket reminds me that I didn’t even give him the high-powered torches. Kicking off my trainers, I roll onto my back and stare morosely up at the ceiling.

  I think I must have dozed off, because what seems only to be a mere moment later, I’m awoken by an electronic female voice announcing, “You have an unscheduled visitor. Please confirm admission.” Slightly disorientated, I push myself off the bed and head over to the Comm Panel by the door, bringing up the security cameras, I jerk at the sight of Sin standing in the lobby, shifting nervously from foot to foot and glancing over his shoulder.

  “Let him up,” I order immediately, already heading towards the elevator.

  Behind me, I hear the voice reply, “Command processing… Command complete.” Reaching the elevator several seconds before the doors slid open, I just stand there uncertainly, waiting for him to make the first move. All my anger seems to have drained away during sleep, leaving me wondering if maybe I’d overreacted just a little.

  “I’m sorry,” are the first words out of his mouth as he steps out of the elevator, “I handled things badly earlier. No one ever really argues with me, except Kit, and him I can hit.”

  “Poor Kit, he’s only trying to look out for your best interests,” I chide softly, not wanting to start another row when we seem to be on speaking terms.

  “I know,” he ducks his head, frowning down at his shoes as he continues, “and I get where you were comin’ from earlier. All I can do is give you my word that the guns won’t be used and I know my word probably don’t mean much but it’s all I can give you. I hope you’ll trust me to keep it.”

  “I do trust you, Sin, I really do and I’m sorry too, for going off on one earlier. I should have given you chance to explain, but instead I just got mad.” The way I’d heard the news about the guns probably hadn’t helped either; it had just been sprung on me out of nowhere.

  “Your trust means a lot, but I don’t know if I deserve it.”

  “If that’s the case, perhaps you should work on earning it from now on.”

  “I’ll try,” he says doubtfully, looking at me as if I’m something fragile and breakable, even as one hand reaches out to cup my cheek. Turning my head slightly to kiss his palm, I lean into the touch, lifting my own hand to grip his wrist. “I really am sorry, you know,” he murmurs after a minute of silence.

  “I know,” I assure him, stepping forward to curl my arms around his waist. He hesitates for only a heartbeat, before returning the embrace. Sighing, I close my eyes and feel his arms tighten.

  Contentedly cuddled into him, I don’t hear footsteps approaching. My first indication that we are not alone is the sudden tension in Sin’s body and the drumming of his heart beneath my cheek. Lifting my head to look up at him, I slowly turn, following his gaze. Standing in the hallway, with a face like thunder, is my dad.

  “Dad, I can explain…” When I had imagined us being caught in my head, I was always stubborn and stoic, defiant in the face of my dads’ fury, but before I even have time to think those pleading words spill from my mouth.

  “Get. Out.” For a moment I think he’s talking to me as well and the relief that shoots through me is unprecedented. Stepping from Sin’s arms, which fall instantly to his sides, I grab his wrist and begin pulling him over to the elevator. “Sunny, you’re staying.” My dads’ voice is cold and hard, making me flinch. Concern writ all over his face, Sin glances down at me, indecision in his eyes.

  “I’ll be fine,” I assure him in a whisper, “but you need to go. Now, while you’ve got the chance.”

  “Listen to her, boy, because I’m seconds away from having you arrested.”

  Beside me, Sin bristles, even as I scan my Brand to call the elevator up. “Oh yeah,” he sneers, “and what you gunna do with me, send me home?” I’m silently begging him to shut up.

  “I’ll execute you, you dirty little rat, just for touching my daughter. I hope you enjoyed your time together because you’ll never see her again.”

  “Well if I’m gunna die, why don’t you give us fifteen minutes to make my death worthwhile?” The crude innuendo is clear and my whole face flushes, even as frustrated tears fill my eyes. Clutching at his sleeve, I drag him towards the open elevator, away from where he and my dad are squaring up to each other, though Sin towers over him. For a moment he resists, but then he looks down at me and surprise flits across his face. One hand reaches up to brush my cheek, his thumb wiping away the stray tear that spills over.

  “Please, just go,” I choke out. His brow creases, but he allows himself to be shoved into the metal box and seconds later the doors shut once more. Slowly, I turn back to face my father. “Dad, please just listen for a minute.”

  A sharp pain has me stumbling back. My hands fly up to shield my burning cheek. More tears escape. The sting of betrayal hurts worse than the actual slap. Fathers aren’t supposed to hit their little girls.

  “Go to your room and stay there,” he hisses at me, “from this moment on you are not to leave this apartment without permission and an escort. You are never to see that boy again.”

  “You can’t stop me.” The defiant words come out as a husky whisper.

  “Just watch me,” he snarls, red faced, “I run this country, I can do whatever I damn well please.” Grabbing my upper arm in a tight, bruising grip, he yanks me through the living room and down the hall. Instinctively, I fight against him, trying to pull my arm free, but I can’t. His fingers dig into my flesh. When we reach my bedroom door it glides open smo
othly and he throws me inside.

  Swinging around angrily, blinded now by my tears, I scream, “You can’t keep me locked in here.”

  Standing in the doorway, my dad yells right back at me, “You don’t think I know all about you hacking into the government computers, or about all the little games you play around here to get your own way? But not anymore! I have tech’s in my pocket that are ten times smarter than you, Sunny. Up until now I’ve been giving you leeway, but obviously that was the wrong move. I can see now that all I’ve done is spoil you.”

  “Spoil me?” I cry, appalled, “You think you’ve spoilt me? ‘Spoiling’ implies some kind of affection, but you’ve never cared about me, not really, not the way you’re supposed to.”

  “You know that’s not true. I’ve always tried my hardest to love you.”

  “You shouldn’t have to try! It should come naturally.”

  “For God’s sake, Sunny, stop twisting everything.”

  “That’s ironic coming from you, you twist everything. Is it because of Mum that you can’t love me? Because I killed her?”

  “Shut up,” he snaps, “don’t talk about her. This conversation is over.” And with that he steps back and presses the button to shut the door. I can hear the buttons beeping as he locks it and then the light on the comm-panel flashes red. Rushing to the door, I slam my fists into it over and over again, screaming incoherently.

  Vaguely, the scene reminds me of that first night in the Ghetto; this prison is plusher by far, but it is a prison nonetheless.

  Outside, I can hear the sound of voices, so I quieten down to listen. Using the Comm panel, I try to connect to the one by the elevator so that I can turn the video feed on and see who the voice belongs to, however, I find myself locked out. Not wanting to miss the conversation by messing around, I resort to spying the old fashioned way. Sliding down to the floor, I sit with one ear pressed to the door, straining to hear.