Son of Sedonia

4

Promises


DUSK CREPT ACROSS the overcast sky toward the horizon. Miles of evening lights flickered on, feeding the dull orange glow of the clouds and the ruddy twilight of the Slums beneath. But the south-western Rasalla district waited quietly in the dark. With the EXOs on the war path and the risk of stray bullets, the locals shut off their lamps and locked themselves indoors.

Jogun felt exposed no matter which corner he ducked into. Word was the EXOs could see in the dark...maybe even through walls. He crouched at the edge of an alley underneath a fire escape. Pouring sweat and out of breath, he struggled to hold still and listen. No engines. No thump-whine-thump-whine of Augmentor boots...at least none that he could tell. He eased a hand into his satchel and searched through the contents. Touched the cool sweat of his water bottle. A few things shifted and clinked in the pack. He winced.

Jogun gulped a mouthful of cloudy water, replaced the cap, and swallowed the urge to clear his throat. He put the bottle back in his pack then pulled the draw-string shut. Settled a moment. His exhausted muscles throbbed in the stillness. I made it quick for her...it was mercy. Mercy. He shook his head, cleared the woman’s bloody face from his mind, and leaned out of the alley’s edge. Scanned the red gloom of the street. Beyond a few meters of open ground, a narrow stairway carved a path upward through a multi-tiered neighborhood of scrap metal shacks and lean-tos. They’d run him all the way to the Northwest edge of Rasalla, almost to South Bogi. Jogun stayed still for a few more heartbeats. All quiet...

He sucked a breath, ducked low, and sprinted toward the stairs. No more than four strides passed when he heard it over his own footfalls. The rhythmic, violent thumping of an approaching EXO. Panic begged his body to push harder. Shit! He leaped for the stairwell and crashed hard against the mud-brick steps. Pain shot up his right side but fear kept it dull. He pressed his back against a shack wall.

Thump-whine-thump-whine-THUMP. The EXO crouched on the rooftop two buildings down from where Jogun had hidden in the alley. A black silhouette against the dim copper sky. The EXO touched something on his hip then the whine of Augmentor servos died to silence. The ambient roar of the City filled the neighborhood.

Jogun paralyzed himself against the wall. He was out of the cop’s line of sight, but that didn’t mean much. No way of knowing if they could hear the faintest sound, trace the smallest sign...or even smell fear. Jogun slid a hand behind his back and wrapped his fingers around the pistol grip. He eased the weapon out from his waistband.

Two electronic beeps from the rooftop shattered the moment. Jogun froze.

“No sir, it’s all lights-out over here. Sector 7’s on lock down—.” The EXO’s voice, though hushed, echoed against the thin metal walls of the block, bouncing down to Jogun.

“Yes sir, on my way.” The EXO’s Augmentor gear whirred to life. He straightened, stretched, then loped off East. Jogun slackened. Hearing the thumping foot-falls fade away, he holstered the pistol. Pain flushed through the shoulder that had broken his fall on the steps. He threw the satchel over the less-sore shoulder and limped toward home.

Six, eight, twelve, f-fourteen. Matteo climbed the rickety metal stairs to their apartment two at a time as he’d seen Jogun do. His scrawny thighs burned and trembled by the time he reached twenty-four, and there were forty-two to go. He grumbled and changed to slow single steps. The stairs coiled around the stack of freight container apartments where Jogun had raised him. The ragged, torch-cut window holes were creepier tonight. None of the usual candles, glow lanterns, or day-charged solars. Dark shapes moved around inside, speaking in hushed voices. Lockdown here too? Robos must be really pissed...

Dozens of tenants lived in this Stack. He passed a few sitting out on their balcony and a quick glance told him they were stoned. Sway addicts. Red powder caked their noses as they sat and stared up at nothing with giant pupils. Cigarettes smoldered at the filter in their stained hands. Further up, a man and a woman spilled out of a doorway in front of him. The man staggered back on a familiar prosthetic leg. They screamed at one another, punching, kicking, and clawing. Raia’s dad, shirtless and missing teeth, slapped the straw-haired woman. Matteo waited, keeping his eyes on his feet.

“Hey, shut the f*ck up, up there! The Robos are sweepin,’ goddammit!” a hushed, rasping voice called up at them from nowhere. Raia emerged from the house, tugged her mother and father back inside, and grabbed the door. She paused when her glance met Matteo’s. A purple bruise surrounded one of her perfect blue eyes.

“Are you okay?” Matteo asked, barely loud enough to hear. She crinkled her nose in a show of disgust.

“Freak!” She yanked the door shut. Tingling upset washed over him as his mind wrestled with the word. Maybe she said it to push him away and protect him from the other kids? Maybe to protect herself from Oki? Or maybe I AM a freak... Matteo hung his head, hid his tears, and stomped up the stairs.

He finally arrived at the top apartment, entered, then shut the plastic door behind him. His legs wobbled as staggered to the floor mattress and flopped down. Wincing, he rubbed his thighs just above the knees. I’ll get stronger. I’ll do it or die trying. A fantasy of running with Jogun materialized. Jo ran with his satchel and pistol as he’d done earlier that day, and Matteo carried a fearsome assault rifle with flames painted up the mag, over the bolt, and curling at the butt-stock. The muscles of his body rippled and pulsed as his powerful legs launched him over alleys and up massive flights of stairs...taking steps three, four, or five at a time. Jo fell behind and called ahead, begging Matteo to slow down. But Matteo went faster. Faster. Faster. He ran until he reached the Border. Looking up, he flashed a brilliant white smile. No plastic tube in his nose. With the deepest, clearest in-breath he’d ever taken, he crouched and then exploded upward in a soaring arch over the Border. Jo became a spec far below him. He turned away in mid-air to look at the City. Only he was high above it, looking down.—

The book! Matteo wiped his cheeks, reached under his hoodie, and pulled out the magazine. His eyes strained to look at his prize. Too dark in here... He reached for the battery lamp then stopped. Right. EXOs. Matteo tucked the magazine under his arm, pushed himself up on shaking legs, and almost buckled again. Grunting and fighting to stay up, he crossed to the balcony door. Heaved it open, spilling the fake dawn of a billion City lights across the hard floor. Matteo sighed. He stepped out onto the balcony and willed his aching limbs up the ladder to the roof.

The attempt to sit became an awkward fall onto his hip. He swallowed the pain and pulled his legs to the cross-legged position. Bent over the magazine in his lap. The colors were ruddy and brown in this light, but the shapes on the cover were clear. Drawing in as deep a breath as he could from his airtank, he opened to the first page.

Jogun opened the plastic door of the apartment and limped inside. He lowered the satchel to the floor, then paused in the pitch black. He listened for Matteo while his eyes adjusted, but heard nothing in the close hot air of the apartment. A twinge of worry came over him. He shuffled toward the mattress and crouched beside it. Empty. Where the hell is he? The balcony door creaked slightly open and a sliver of dim orange light entered. He hated that Matteo loved that balcony so much.

“‘Teo?” A moment passed, then two light knocks clanged through the metal ceiling. Jogun puffed a sigh and walked to the balcony door. He climbed up to find Matteo pouring over pages of a magazine. The boy didn’t seem to notice him.

“What? No ‘Hey big brother, welcome home! Glad ya didn’t get shot’?” said Jogun, walking over and sitting down beside Matteo. His little brother blinked and shook his head as though waking from a Sway trance.

“Huh?”

“Nevermind. Get what you needed from the Doc?” asked Jogun. Matteo nodded and demonstrated with a smooth, deep breath. “Good good. He gave you that too I guess... Can I take a look?”

Grudgingly, Matteo held the magazine up. Above chunks of text that Jogun couldn’t read, a picture of a giant crane atop a skyscraper spread across two pages.

“Oh...I see.” said Jogun. Matteo pulled the magazine back and turned to the next page. Jogun chuckled. “Dammit, Utu...I need to have a talk with him.” Jogun stretched and laid back on the tarnished metal roof. Hands behind his head, he stared up at the twinkling flow of traffic. Matteo sighed sharply.

“About what?”

“About fillin’ your head with all...this,” Jogun waved a hand at the magazine. Matteo sat motionless, staring at the book. Jogun sat up. Leaned forward to grab eye contact.

“And I know you don’t like to hear about it, but maybe one day it’ll sink in. Out here, you gotta keep focused on what’s in front of you. You starve, catch a bullet, or get locked up if you don’t.”

“Like Dad did, yeah I know,” Matteo snapped.

“Y-yeah... Like him.” Both of them went quiet. Jogun dug around in a cargo pocket for the hand-rolled cigarettes there. Hearing Matteo’s nasally breath, he released the pack and took his hand back out. Flexed his fingers. Drug addled ravings rose from a few floors below. Matteo fidgeted with the corner of the magazine’s frayed binding.

“I wish I could remember something about him. Anything,” Matteo said.

“Wish I could forget,” Jogun stood up. That dark apartment flashed again through his mind. Instinct turned him to look down at the boy. He saw the magazine clutched in the tiny hands, pulling his little brother away. In one quick motion, Jogun crouched and snatched it up. Matteo lunged after it but grasped only air.

“Man, look at that wall!” Jogun thrust a pointing finger at the giant concrete barrier in the distance. It loomed high above the shanty towns that clung to its base. Tiny red lights set at wide intervals pulsed along the top edge, and pillbox watch towers punctuated each broad slab of concrete. Everyone in the Slums knew of the big guns stationed in the towers.

“What does that say to you?!” asked Jogun. Matteo blinked back tears and turned away.

“It says ‘Don’t bother! We don’t want you here!’” said Jogun. Seeing tears run down Matteo’s cheeks, he buckled. Smoothed his voice.

“Dad wouldn’t get with that. Always talkin’ about buyin’ and killin’ his way in. How Mama and me cost too much already and she couldn’t have no more... It got him killed, ‘Teo, and he took Mama with him. Almost took us.” Jogun sat again. Leaned toward his little brother.

“This right here is your home. These are your people,” Jogun waved a hand over Rasalla, “Smart as you are, you can find a way to help us all out right here...make things better here... understand?”

“Y-yeah...” Matteo sniffled.

“And don’t ever let me catch you with a gun in your hand again, aight? Bad enough one of us got blood on his soul, ain’t no need for you to have it too,” Jogun said. Matteo sucked in a sob and nodded.

“Promise me.”

“I promise.”

“Cool,” Jogun said, “Love you, big man...” He wrapped an arm around his little brother and pulled him in close. Matteo hugged him back. Jogun both heard and felt Matteo’s stomach growl.

“Boy, you forget to eat again? How you expect to get stronger if you don’t—” Jogun froze. His eyes rolled down to his left arm. A shiny, jagged barb stuck out below ‘T99’ on his shoulder. Dead cold spread out from it. His mind screamed as he watched himself slump and topple, sprawling him flat on his back. The sounds of thumping footsteps and whining servos approached from all sides. Matteo threw himself over Jogun’s limp body.

“Don’t move, kid!” One of four EXOs shouted. They surrounded them, glaring through lifeless black visors.

“Just stick a spur in him!” said another EXO. Behind his back, Jogun felt Matteo’s hand close around the pistol grip.

“Stand the f*ck down, Shima! Stun this one and his heart could stop. What do you think happens when all of Rasalla learns we killed a sick kid? Just pull him off.”

The one they called Shima nodded, then approached the brothers. Matteo started pulling the pistol out from Jogun’s waistband.

“D-don’t,” Jogun rasped through clenched teeth, “No...b-blood...” Jogun’s wild eyes met his brother’s. Matteo released the pistol as an Augged hand clamped on his shoulder. His bony arms tried to cling, but were easily ripped away. They tossed him to the side.

Jogun tensed as the four officers converged on him. His body was deaf to every plea for movement. They flipped him over like a carcass at the market and cuffed his wrists. The ranking officer stooped low next to him and raised the visor. Kabbard... The flat scowl and gray eyes few got away to talk about. The straight, sharp scar from chin to cheek left no doubt.

“You know my face, you piece of shit?” asked Kabbard. Jogun could only stare. “Good.” Kabbard turned to his officers.

“So our boy here must know what we do to lady-killing scumbags when we catch ‘em,” said one of the others. An older, deeper voice. Jogun’s face contorted as he tried to spit a curse. It came out in a weak hiss. Kabbard shrugged and stood up.

“You heard the man.” Kabbard nodded. Shima stepped forward and landed a kick into Jogun’s ribs. Two others followed suit, driving carbon-fiber toes into the kidneys and shoulders. Sharp cracks punctuated Jogun’s grunts. Through the pain, he saw Matteo crumple in the corner of the roof, hands pressed over his ears with eyes clenched shut.

“Pick him up.” Kabbard ordered. The EXOs lifted Jogun by his cuffed wrists. Kabbard touched under Jo’s chin. Raised the bloody head.

“Her name was Kathy. She was a District Attorney. A wife and a mother. I’d kill you right here if I weren’t already sending you to Hell.” Kabbard’s dead-eyes glared into him. The Sergeant’s finger servos buzzed as they curled into an armored fist. It cracked into Jogun’s jaw with a right cross. The world shocked to white, then went black a moment.

Straightening, Kabbard pressed two fingers against his throat.

“Omega-Two ready for pick-up.”

The throbbing of hover engines emerged from the background noise of the Slums and grew to a pounding roar as the drop-ship flew in. Jogun watched in horror. The black cockpit glass and pulsing red beacons at the nose formed a gaunt, lifeless face. A demon without mercy. A yawning mouth opened toward the rear of the thirty-foot craft. Dull fluorescent lighting blinked on inside, revealing rows of unconscious, bloody prisoners sat harnessed and bolted into metal flight seats. Two of the EXOs grabbed Jogun under the arms and dragged him toward the hatch. With agonizing effort, Jogun turned his heavy, shaking head. Looked at Matteo through eyes nearly swollen shut.

“M-matteo,” his mouth sputtered blood, “Y-you got this...” Something like a smile creased his broken mouth as the EXOs threw him inside. They found an empty seat, hefted Jogun’s limp body, and dropped him in. A bulky metal harness locked down on him. Kabbard and the officers stepped inside.

“We’re good here, button it up,” Kabbard said. The hatch door clamped shut, swallowing all of them. As the thrum of the engines picked up, the drop-ship listed heavily to the right, pulled up, then blasted off into the night sky.

Matteo whimpered. Though unhurt, he struggled to open his eyes. The rooftop was dark and quiet again, and wet black stains glistened on the metal. The magazine sprawled open near Matteo’s feet. Its pages flapped in the breeze.