“Why are you here?” Hanna asked. “Did my mom send you? I thought you didn’t work with us, anymore.”
Beneath them, the buckles in the pavement burped along. They were still on the Acoutsina, then. It had the oldest roads with the most repairs. Hwa worked to quiet the alarm bell ringing in her head. Hanna’s skin was so cold under her hands. She probably needed a hospital. But right now, she needed Hwa to be calm. She needed Hwa to be smart. She needed Hwa to think.
“With us?” Hwa asked.
“For the union,” Hanna sniffed.
“Eh?”
The angle of the vehicle changed. They tipped down into something. Hwa heard hydraulics. They were in a lift. Tower Three. They’d parked Hanna not far from where they were, then. Hwa’s ears popped. She rolled up as close as possible to the opening of the trunk. She cleared her wrists and flexed her toes. She’d have one good chance when the trunk opened. If there weren’t too many of them. If they didn’t have crowbars. Something slammed onto the trunk. A fist. A big one, by the sound of it.
“Wakey, wakey, Hanna!”
The voice was muffled, but strong. Manic. He’d been awake for a while. Boosters? Shit. Hanna started to say something, but Hwa shushed her.
“Had enough time to think about what you did?”
Definitely boosters. That swaggering arrogance, those delusions of grandeur. Hwa listened for more voices, the sound of footsteps. She heard none. Maybe this was a solo performance.
“You know, I didn’t like doing this. But you made me do it. You have to learn, Hanna.”
Behind her, Hanna was crying.
“I can’t have you just giving it away. It really cuts into what I’m trying to do for us.”
Fingers drummed on the trunk of the ride.
“Are you ready to come out and say you’re sorry?”
You’re goddamn right I am, Hwa thought.
The trunk popped open. Jared’s pale, scaly face registered surprise for just a moment. Then Hwa’s foot snapped out and hit him square in the jaw. He stumbled back and tried to slam the trunk shut. It landed on her leg and she yelled. The door bounced up. Not her ankle. Not her knee. Thank goodness. She rolled out.
Jared was huge. A tall, lanky man in his early twenties, the kind of rigger who’d get made fun of by guys with more muscle while still being plenty strong enough to get the job done. He had bad skin and a three-day growth of patchy beard. He lunged for Hwa and she jumped back. He swung wide and she jumped again.
“Let me guess,” she said. “You told Hanna you’d fix it with the union if she paid you her dues directly. Even though she’s a minor and USWC doesn’t allow those.”
Jared’s eyes were red. He spat blood. He reeked of booster sweat—acrid and bitter.
“And you had her doing what, camwork?” She grinned. “I thought her eyes were red because she’d been crying. But yours look just the same. You’re both wearing the same shitty lenses.”
“He made me watch the locker room.” Hanna sat on her knees in the trunk of the ride. Her voice was a croak. For a moment she looked so much like her mother that Hwa’s heart twisted in her chest. “He said he’d edit my team’s faces out—”
“Shut up!”
Jared reached for the lid of the trunk again. He tried to slam it shut on Hanna. Hwa ran for him. He grabbed her by the shoulders. Hwa’s right heel came down hard on his. The instep deflated under the pressure. He howled. She elbowed him hard under the ribs and spun halfway out of his grip. His right hand still clung to her vest. She grabbed the wrist and wedged it into the mouth of the trunk.
“Hanna! Get down!”
She slammed the lid once. Then twice. Then a third time. He’ll never work this rig again, she thought, distantly. The trunk creaked open and Jared sank to his knees. He clutched his wrist. His hand dangled from his arm like a piece of wet kelp.
Behind her, she heard a slow, dry clap.
“Excellent work,” Síofra said.
He leaned against the ride he’d summoned. Two go-cups of coffee sat on the hood. He held one out.
“You didn’t want in on that?” Hwa asked, jerking her head at the whimpering mess on the floor of the parking garage.
“Genius can’t be improved upon.” Síofra gestured with his cup. “We should get them to a hospital. Or a police station.”
“Hanna needs a hospital.” Hwa sipped her coffee. “This guy, I should report to the union. He falsified a membership and defrauded someone of dues in bad faith.”
“They don’t take kindly to that, in the USWC?”
Hwa swallowed hard. “Nope. Not one bit.”
Síofra made a sound in his throat like purring.
*
During the elevator ride between the hospital and the school in Tower Two, Hwa munched a breakfast sandwich. She’d protested the presence of bread, but Síofra said the flour was mostly crickets anyway. So she’d relented. Now he stood across the elevator watching her eat.
“What?” she asked, between swallows.
“I have something to share with you.”
She swiped at her mouth with the back of her hand. “Aye?”
“I don’t remember anything beyond ten years ago.”