Son of Sedonia

11

Spark


MATTEO AWOKE IN the dark, panting and sweating. The dream images still flickered through his mind, becoming fainter but no less real. Or terrifying. Blaring engines and fire. A dark space with a broad window of fiery light ahead. Everything shaking...screaming and crying. He recognized, and yet didn’t recognize, his voice among theirs.

As the vision slowly cleared, he remembered where he was. Utu’s recovery ward in the Temple of the Wheel...a long narrow ship hull, gutted to fit two rows of bedrolls. He could have gone back to the family apartment days ago. Back to work in the Pits. But Utu, upon studying Matteo’s lost expression, said the same thing every morning.

“Hmm...more rest. Yes. More rest and another day of hot food, and you’ll be free to go.” He would end with a squinting smile. Something hid behind it, Matteo could tell, but nothing to fear. A soft bed, three meals a day, and no Pits...hard to argue with. Even if he couldn’t sleep more than a few hours. The Choice wouldn’t let him. In the stagnant darkness, his mind throbbed with possibilities.

I could be Lifted and over the wall in less than a month with the Nines...nothin’ would happen...I might not even need the gun. But if I did...Jo... Shit. Might still be able to do it if I hit triple salvage enough times. Yeah...that could work. Unless I die in the Pits trying. Okay. Hm.

He suddenly became aware of the exhausting thought stream. No way he was getting back to sleep. He rose carefully from the bedroll, crouched and lifted his bag. His belongings clinked inside and an elderly man a few beds over shifted in his sleep. Matteo winced and allowed the bag’s contents to settle. He tip-toed past the huddled bodies and out the embroidered door-flap.

The cool night air and the spiced smells of the Temple refreshed him. Much better than the faint reek of sickness in the ward. Torchlight licked up into the air from posts in the ground. The same time of night it had been whenever he stirred. After all of the most nocturnal dwellers and gangsters had turned in. So still. Peaceful. He’d never realized how loud the Slums were until the volume had been turned down. With a deep breath he walked along the wall and found the ladder to his new favorite spot.

Row upon row of green growing things bloomed out of burlap sacks in the rooftop Temple Garden. Utu gave him a tour two days past, giving names to the shapes and patterns. There was fresh kale, a messy clump of wrinkled leaves that felt weird on the tongue, but tasted good. Spinach with its round, softer leaves. And then the red, round tomatoes. The fruits of a fortune in seeds, and the source of still more. Utu could have lived in a dweller mansion, but instead chose a monastery, clinic, and free kitchen. Yesterday, he had given Matteo a small tomato to try. The sweet, juicy flavor had made Matteo’s eyes roll back in his head. He thought about taking another every night since, but never dared.

Instead, he walked among the plants, felt their textures and savored their smells. He sat between two kale bushels and dug through his bag, searching for the slick pages of the new magazine Utu had let him borrow. A curious picture on the cover teased his mind. A spiral shape with a big bright center made up of uncountable dots of light. Utu read the word “Galaxies” on the cover aloud, though he claimed he didn’t know what it meant. Something to do with the stars. People could travel to them now, further away from home than Matteo had ever imagined. Gotta fly at the speed of light for four years to get to the closest one... He had noticed the ships that flew straight up from the City and into the sky before...always wondered where they went. The City was more than a City. It was a key to the universe. Maybe even God...or whatever the force was that pulled him there.

The sound of a shifting brick yanked him to the present. He whirled, eyes wide and staring into the twilight. Thieves... Most left the gardens alone out of respect and those that didn’t answered to the T99s. But that didn’t mean a few didn’t sometimes get desperate. And people that desperate were dangerous. Matteo remembered the gun in his bag. Light footsteps approached through swishing leaves. Against the pounding in his chest, he pulled the satchel open and reached in.

“Matteo?” said a soft voice. Matteo hesitated. Raia stepped out of the rows, squinting in the darkness. The pounding in Matteo’s chest continued, but in a different way as he removed his hand from the bag.

“Over here,” Matteo said, standing up among the plants. Raia jumped a little, then placed a relieved hand to her chest. She looked so different without her skin-tight club clothes. She wore a modest, angled dress, cinched at the waist with a long, patterned scarf. The fabric fluttered softly against her curves in the hot, dry wind.

“Sorry...didn’t mean to scare you,” said Matteo, shying away from the curves. Something dawned on him in the anxiety. “You lookin’ for me?”

Raia nodded. Even with so little light, the deep blue of her eyes flashed as she turned away in the dark.

“Doc told me you come up here at night...when everybody else is in bed. Wanted to talk without anybody seein’,” she said. Matteo darkened.

“I get it,” he said.

Suddenly worried, she shook her head.

“It ain’t like that! If somebody saw us...if somebody heard me...Oki’d take me out,” Raia said. Matteo waited, curiosity boiling in his head. She must have sensed it. “You gonna say ‘yes’ to the boss...right?”

“I...” Matteo looked down at the satchel, “I don’t know, yet.”

“But...I can’t be your girl, if you ain’t a Nine,” she said, “If you was, Oki couldn’t touch me or you...”

Matteo’s head swam with a sudden rush. She...wants me? No one ever had. At least no one he’d ever heard of. A legion of flies buzzed in his stomach. What the hell do I do with that...? Raia broke off eye contact, and looked around the place.

“Why you come up here so late?” she asked. Matteo lifted inside. Nice, I can answer that.

“It’s quiet,” he said, “Calm. I feel more connected up here. Somethin’ about the plants helps. Reminds me we’re alive...not just dying.” He snapped out of it, noticing her blank expression. Part of him dimmed. The whole thing had just sailed right over her head. He wanted her. He had always wanted her. But in his gut, Matteo knew Raia wasn’t a part of the path. He didn’t want to know it.

“I can’t...” he forced it out. To his surprise, a grin creased Raia’s full lips.

“Come on,” she said, cocking her head and tilting her hips, “Every Nine needs a girl. And not every girl can get a man like you.” She waited for an endless moment for him to respond. He had nothing. Raia seemed to sink then turned to leave. Dammit—.

“Hold up!” Matteo said. He stooped, reached into the satchel, and pulled out the gun. It didn’t seem to weigh as much as he stuffed it into his waistband. “I’ll...walk you home.”

Together, they made their way through the eerie quiet from central to Southwest Rasalla. Despite knowing the way like the back of his hand, he found himself unsure of the allies, stairwells, and catwalks. The gun tugged on his shorts too much, so he kept it drawn. He felt her eyes on his back as they crept through the district. It was a relief when they reached the Dyer Walk. A long alley where the Blue Ladies and their girl helpers spun their own cloth, dyed it, and patterned it to be sold in Falari Market. The normally vibrant colors of the hanging wet fabrics all looked cold gray at night. Matteo and Raia started up the gradual slope of the Walk.

Matteo felt her inch closer to him, then slip smooth fingers around his arm. He was glad it was too dark to read his expression. Just take her back to her place, then go home...take her back to her place, then go ho—

BOOOOM! The two of them dropped into the cover of an alley on instinct. Looked up to the sky. A bright orange glow surrounded a mushroom cloud to the South. As the rumble subsided, dogs all over the Slums started barking. Followed soon after by the shouts of dwellers.

“Maybe one of the labs,” Raia said, “Oki’s guys ain’t too smart, maybe they—” Gunshots. A few at first, then more, streaking white-hot bursts into the sky in all directions.

“We gotta go!” Matteo said, grabbing Raia by the arm. They ran down the rest of the Dyer Walk and hung a left up the stairs. Then a right up some more. The pistol grip slicked with sweat in Matteo’s hands. The path ahead led to a mutated block of shacks and cinder-block apartments. Five minutes from home. Familiar jagged shapes loomed over them as they climbed the stairs.

Strange sounds and voices came from out of sight ahead. Matteo stopped her with his palm just shy of the top of the stairs, and they dropped low. He turned, crawled arm-over-arm, and peeked over. EXOs...at least six.

One of their dropships sat below on a wide, flat rooftop with its rear hatch open. Some kinda new IG model... Two EXOs kept watch while the others worked, picking up limp bodies and handing them down the line to the hatch. Some bodies were T99s. Others’ shoulders were bare. Matteo ground his teeth and squeezed the gun grip. Remembered Jogun. Raia crawled up next to him and put a soft hand on the gun. Wide-eyed, she shook her head ‘no.’ He bit hard into his lower lip. Inched back down the steps.

They took a side route back toward the Stack. Along the way, they saw one of the IG ships take-off in the distance. It rose, turned, and started its ascent when the sharp hiss of an RPG round sliced the sky. Matteo and Raia ducked as they watched the missile arc and hit the ship. It sparked, burst into flame, then listed off to the West. Crashed with a loud boom...right where it shouldn’t.

“Daddy!” Raia yelled, breaking into a dead sprint. Matteo ran after her as fast as he could. Every alley and turn toward the Stack brightened with a fiery glow. No...please, God...come on, man!

The EXO ship had flipped sideways, plowing directly into the top three container apartments. The Stack burned as the ship’s chemical blood spurted onto the flames. Two figures sat wedged in the cockpit behind a fractured glass canopy, taking pistol pot-shots at the angry dwellers who had already started to gather.

“NO!!!” Matteo sprinted through the crowd toward his toppled apartment, ignoring the gunfire. He stopped as the heat seared his front. It was already gone. His house. The seeds... He dropped to his knees and bowed into a tight ball. Screamed. The sound joined the chorus of screams behind him.

POP! Another shot from the cockpit...followed by wail to silence all the others. It felt like death. He turned to see Raia on the ground holding her father in her lap. A red hole gushed in the man’s chest as he died by inches. The prosthetic leg jerked in the dirt, then he was gone. Raia’s dad had put her through hell growing up. The fights, the binges, the bruises. Raia was hardly ever home these past years. That what it means to have a Dad? The question stung. Jogun had been the closest thing to one he’d ever known. As tears ached in his eyes, he turned to look at the ship. Hate washed over him like an acid bath.

Matteo strangled the pistol grip. Shaking, he lifted the weight. Aimed at the struggling pilots.

BANG! B-B-B-BANG! B-B-BANG! The pilots’ bodies burst in a flurry of glass, sparks, and blood. An instant of horror passed before Matteo realized he hadn’t fired. Cheers and shouts picked up as a pack of T99s flooded into the street, armed with rifles, SMGs, knives, and sheet metal machetes. Suomo ran to the center of the block, and hopped up on a smoking rubble pile.

“Brothers and sisters! This here is the day we been waitin’ on!” Suomo shouted. The other T99s let out a whoop and raised their weapons.

“That’s right, the War of the Righteous has started, y’all, and they,” Suomo pointed to the dropship, “hit us first! Now, I got word from my boy Oki that he’s got three more of these motherf*ckers caged up on Daigi’s roof!” He turned and looked at Matteo. Kept his voice loud for the crowd.

“You wanna go back to ya homes and hide, good luck! Ain’t nobody stoppin’ you. But if you wanna fight, don’t matter if you got the Mark on your arm or not, you come with ME!” Suomo turned and trotted down the pile. Quick as cats, the other T99s locked and loaded their guns, and loped after Suomo. A handful of the survivors hobbled off quickly down alleyways and side-streets. Mostly the elderly and their caretakers. Some of the husbands and wives who had children. The others looked at one another and the ruins around them. A middle-aged bald man with a rock-solid paunch knelt down and picked up a long piece of re-bar. A young woman, whose’ child lay bloody and lifeless beside her, tore a strip out of her shawl and wrapped it around the end of a long metal sliver. Clutched it.

Matteo stared down at the gun. He’d never seen bodies come apart like that. As the others left to follow Suomo, he stayed still. The street grew quiet except for the roaring fire and groans of hot metal. He looked up and noticed she was staring at him. Raia still sat with her father on the ground, clutching the man’s ratty, blood-soaked t-shirt. Her eyes shimmered as her face contorted in pain. It cut through him.

“Don’t worry,” Matteo said, tucking the gun tight in his waistband. Easier to run that way, and he had catching up to do. “I got this.”