“He’d like that,” Moss said.

  “I think so,” Ynna agreed, and silence hung in the air.

  “It’s been a long night for you and an even longer day awaits, shall I take you to the apartment?” Powers asked.

  “One last thing,” Moss said, and looked to Ynna, who nodded. “Do you have any Carcer attire?”

  Chapter 7

  The apartment to which Powers brought them was a shrine to opulence—styled in sleek black and polished chrome, screens on every wall with every item controlled electronically.

  “Hexes have nothing on this,” Gibbs said and turned in the direction of the open kitchen, “Wine, please.” A long, slender countertop made a noise from beneath before opening, an open bottle of wine and three glasses rising out. He grinned with excitement and hustled over, pouring the dark liquid. He turned, a sadness in his eyes. Moss knew what he was thinking. “I know it’s wrong for us to live like this while our friends are, well, wherever they are, but we can’t leave until the morning, and we earned this.”

  “True,” Ynna agreed, grabbing a glass. “There is nothing we can do for them tonight, and we have been through a lot ourselves.”

  “We have,” Moss agreed, picking up a glass. “What do you think is happening to them now?”

  “Being processed,” Ynna said, taking a sip. “The torture probably won’t begin until they get them to the city.”

  “Really?” Gibbs asked in astonishment.

  “Carcer won, they have them now and probably won’t be in a rush. The assholes will take our friends to a controlled environment so they can do what they want, how they want.”

  “Won’t they want to know,” Moss trailed off.

  “You’re not that important to them now. Gotta figure they think you’re just some bub out on his own. They probably figure they expect to fish your corpse out of some gutter in a few days,” she said, looking at her glass and adding, “This is really good.”

  “How long before they get to the city?” Moss asked.

  “Probably a day. Those guys will stay strong, though, until we can get there. It’ll be toughest on Judy. Carcer sees things in black and white—biotch augmented and not. Male and female. They won’t respect Judy’s wishes,” Ynna said, not looking up and tracing the rim of her glass with her fingertip.

  “This fucking world,” Moss snarled.

  “Judy’s a tough nut though,” Ynna said. “But seriously, we can’t dwell on this shit all night.”

  “Telling us, or yourself?” Gibbs asked. She looked up, determined to shake the sadness. Moss took a sip of the wine, the flavor coating his tongue. He took a second sip.

  “Oh,” he exclaimed. “This is something. The rich know how to live.”

  Ynna looked up at him with amusement. “Think you’re on the wrong side of this thing?”

  “Maybe,” Moss replied in exaggerated consideration. Gibbs and Ynna smiled. “I’m just saying I would oppress a lot of people for wine like this.”

  “Then you are halfway there!” Ynna said with a laugh.

  Silence followed a moment.

  Gibbs turned to Ynna. “Can I ask you something I’ve been dying to know?”

  “No, I won’t sleep with you,” she answered with a sly smirk. Gibbs turned a bright crimson.

  “That wasn’t it,” he stuttered, taking a gulp of wine and wincing. “Your name?”

  “What about it?” she asked, playing dumb.

  “It’s unusual,” Gibbs said, so straight-faced that Moss couldn’t help but laugh.

  “As opposed to Moss,” Ynna said, pointing a finger.

  “At least Moss is a word,” Moss defended. “When I first heard your name, I assumed it was spelled e-e-n-a.”

  “That makes no sense,” Ynna said, though the amusement was obvious.

  “Because y-n-n-a is pretty normal?” Gibbs cried out.

  “Fine, fine, I give up,” Ynna said, raising a hand. “When I was little, my baby brother couldn’t pronounce my name, so I started going by Ynna. Happy?”

  “You have a brother?” Moss and Gibbs asked in unison.

  She had expected this question, and her face dropped. “He died when I was very little.”

  “Sorry,” Moss said.

  “How?” Gibbs asked. “I mean, sorry, too, but how? I didn’t think the rich had much in the way of mortality.”

  “Fell down a staircase. Not much anyone can do for a broken neck,” Ynna said. “It was a long time ago, and I hardly remember it now.”

  Not knowing what else to say, Moss repeated, “Sorry.”

  “It is what it is,” Ynna said. “Now Gibbs, what’s with you and the old-time stuff?”

  Moss groaned, and Gibbs punched him lightly. “I think I just like the simpler time. Movies filmed with real actors on real sets. Everything now is so produced. Can’t tell the difference between the real and the digital. So loud and flashy. It’s exhausting.”

  “What is your favorite type of old movie?” she asked, sounding genuinely interested.

  “Westerns,” Gibbs said without having to think about it. Moss had always watched as his friend forced uninterested people to listen to him wax on about the things he loved, and he was happy that for once in his life, someone actually wanted to know. “The sweeping vistas, long, slow shots of the country. Unequivocal good and evil. The fight between man and nature before man always won. There is a simple beauty to the genre which attracts me.”

  “I can see that,” Ynna said with a smile. “Will you play one for us tonight?”

  Gibbs looked as though he was going to vibrate off the earth, he was so excited, “I will!”

  “While we are being honest, Moss, what do you remember of your parents?” Ynna asked.

  “Not sure I’m in the mood for truth or dare,” Moss said quietly.

  “Oh please, if this were truth or dare, Gibbs would have me streaking down the hallways as quick as he could,” Ynna chided.

  “That is true,” Gibbs affirmed with a laugh.

  “I just want to know,” Ynna said. “I knew your dad as a very different man than the one I’m sure you did.”

  “That’s what’s so weird,” Moss began. “I didn’t know the man who wanted to take down ThutoCo, the man who helped form this group. I knew a simple, hardworking version who was just dad, you know? He was just the guy who wanted to tuck me in at night. The person who would sit and watch the tigers with me for hours because he knew I loved it.

  “When you first showed up at my door, talking of big plans, I had no idea what that could be about. It was nothing the people I knew as my parents had even prepared me for.”

  “It showed,” Ynna said.

  “I know it,” Moss said with a little smile. “I have flashes of memories. The moment so scary that the brain wipe couldn’t fully erase it. The lights coming through the door, my father calling out to me as he was dragged away. It’s like remembering a dream. A thought so vague that I can’t quite get my hands around it. I don’t know if this makes any sense?”

  “It does,” Ynna assured him.

  “And my grandmother… the woman I didn’t recognize being beaten by Ninety-Nine, she was a kind woman who loved to give me little trinkets when she came to visit. I never knew she was a warrior—a tough woman who made those around her stronger. A woman whose death could crush the soul of the toughest man I ever met,” he said, thinking about Burn getting drunk night after night in Jo’s saloon.

  “I ever tell you how I met Sandra?” Ynna asked.

  “No,” Moss said.

  “It was the early days of all this. She and Burn were only beginning to bring people together. Grimy had brought me in, and Burn was beginning to show me that I could use my skills with purpose. But the whole thing felt like a boy’s club, even with just the two of them. A few days in, Sandra showed up, back from some mission. She was bloody and bedraggled and pissed. She took one look at me and just said, “What the fuck is this?”

  “I had thought I was such a badass but had recently gotten my ass kicked and her words cut through me like a shot. Made me question if I had any value at all or if I was just the spoiled rich kid everyone assumed I was. Burn just told me to give her time, wait it out, but I was butthurt and proud and stormed out.

  “Back on the street, I was trying to run a scam on a wealthy businessman, but I was pissed and failing miserably. He was about to call Carcer on me. The gig was up, but Sandra walked over and hollered at me like I was her daughter. The businessman thought I was just some runaway and backed off, thinking I was gonna get worse from my mom than anything Carcer could do to me.

  “Sandra looked on me with pity and told me I would need to toughen up if I wanted to run with them. I know now that Burn sent her after me, but at the time, it was what I needed to hear. She began training me, too. Her and Burn taking turns showing me the ropes. Made me the woman I am now. I’ll never forget how she saved my ass when she still thought I was just some stray.”

  “I want to know that woman,” Moss said.

  Ynna smiled softly at him. “You will.”

  “I wish I was so confident,” Moss replied.

  Gibbs gave a weak smile. “Hope is what we have.”

  Moss looked at Ynna. “Ever been outside the city?”

  “Not really, and I’m guessing you haven’t either?” she said, and though Moss noted the evasive answer, he let it go.

  “Sorta,” Moss answered. “I mean, never physically.”

  “What does that mean?” she asked, never having investigated his life in the Burb too deeply.

  “My job was to control a drudge who worked outside the walls,” he stated.

  “Right, the ones who were supposed to be uploaded with your personalities and replace you,” she said.

  “Exactly. My days were spent seeing the world through his camera, out in the fields. Mostly crops and solar panels. I would repair the machinery,” he explained.

  “Tell her your drudge’s name,” Gibbs smirked.

  “You’re the fucking worst!” Moss stated. “You know I regret it! Plus, you told her about the Relief Aide!”

  “I had to tell someone, and there are so few people to gossip to anymore,” Gibbs defended, though he was obviously amused.

  “Or you could just not gossip,” Ynna put in, “not that it wasn’t hilarious to find out.”

  “I dislike both of you.” Moss took another gulp of wine as the others giggled.

  “Its name was MOSS II!” Gibbs shrieked with glee.

  At that, Ynna let out a hearty laugh and quickly covered her mouth with her hands. “Very clever.”

  “Right?” Gibbs guffawed. Moss tried to turn the page.

  “So, while I have never been out in the world, I have worked in it remotely,” he said, but the other two were having far too much fun.

  “We should get a cat and call it Moss III,” Ynna joked.

  “What about Moss Junior?” Gibbs piled on.

  “Lord Mossington the Twelfth.” Ynna snorted through laughter.

  “Mossamillion Mosslebottom,” Gibbs shouted. The room fell silent as the two attempted to concoct more names.

  “Mossy something,” Ynna said, but the moment had passed.

  “Are you two quite done?” Moss said.

  “Where did your name even come from? I’m shocked I never thought to ask,” Gibbs said.

  “No idea,” Moss said, “I never thought to ask either.”

  “I know,” Ynna revealed, instantly gaining their full attention.

  “I’m getting sick of realizing how much more you know about my family than I do,” Moss said, and it was true.

  “The first time I ever heard about you, I asked your dad where that name came from,” she told them.

  “And you didn’t think to tell me when we asked about yours?” he shot.

  “Assumed you knew,” she said innocently.

  “Let’s have it,” Moss said, making a beckoning gesture with his hand.

  “He said it was a joke. Your grandmother always said she was a rolling stone, but she wanted security and stability for her family—before realizing what ThutoCo actually was,” she said.

  “Oh,” Moss said, thinking about his father.

  “What?” Gibbs asked.

  “A rolling stone gathers no moss,” he told his friend. “Dad loved expressions and turn of phrases like that. So, if I were the thing which held our family in place, I would be Moss.”

  “He really did love those things,” Ynna agreed. “He would always say, ‘I need that like—’”

  “A moose needs a hat rack,” Moss finished with a groan.

  Ynna laughed. “Right.”

  “Is now the time where you tell us you really want to see a moose?” Gibbs asked.

  “Yes,” Moss said plainly. “You want to know what the most striking thing about the outside is, Ynna?” She nodded, leaning forward on the countertop. “Bird calls.”

  “What?” Ynna said, genuinely perplexed.

  “The trilling of birds. You never hear it in the Burb or the city, but out in the fields, it’s a constant sound. The drudges are programmed to filter it out, but a friend of mine—”

  “Issy?” Gibbs interrupted.

  “No,” Moss said.

  “Ricky?” Gibbs pressed.

  “No, a friend from engineering, will you let me finish?” Moss groused, and Gibbs fell silent. “A friend told me that if you turn off the filter, one could hear the sound of the wild. It is wonderful.”

  “It’s just I didn’t really think you had friends other than us,” Gibbs put in.

  “Sounds great,” Ynna rescued the moment.

  “To be fair, there are birds in the city, too,” Gibbs said.

  “Yeah, pigeons, falcons, and vultures. It’s not the same thing,” Moss said, tiring of his friend. “Should we watch a western now?”

  The three plodded over to the couch, Ynna bringing over the wine bottle by one finger stuck in the top. The couch automatically shifted under their weight, extending footrests under their legs.

  “This is the most comfortable couch in the world,” Gibbs said as he put on the movie.

  PART 2

  Chapter 8

  A soft chime rang in the apartment as the autoshade dissolved off the windows, allowing in the light of day. Moss’s whole body ached, and his head pounded. He licked his dry lips, the taste of stale wine nauseating in his mouth. The chime rang a second time, and he saw Ynna stride over to the door, fully dressed for the day ahead, her hair shimmering yellow now.

  “Morning, sunshine,” Gibbs said, stepping into view. He handed Moss a pill and a glass of water. “Seemed so tired, we let you sleep a little longer.”

  “What time is it?” Moss asked, throwing the pill in his mouth and slurping at the water before realizing it was vodka and gagging. Gibbs chuckled.

  “Just let the pill do its thing, you’ll be right as rain in a minute,” he said. “The alcohol gets it working faster.”

  “You could have warned me,” Moss sputtered, the liquid leaking from the corners of his mouth.

  Gibbs smiled. “That would have been way less funny.” Moss looked him over. He had the bodysuit on under clean gray jeans which hugged his legs and a shirt with specifically tailored tears. A new, muted, black leather jacket fit snugly on his frame. He was freshly shaven, having given up on the wispy mustache he normally sported, and his orange hair was spiked up.

  “She did good,” Moss observed hoarsely, thinking that his friend really did look better dressed like this than in his usual, baggy attire.

  “You think? I like it,” he said with pride, pulling on the collars of the jacket.

  “She get me anything?” Moss asked, looking to Ynna who was speaking to Powers at the door.

  “No,” Gibbs said sadly, “she said your style suits you.”

  “Oh, how nice,” he said, sitting up painfully. The new Kingfisher had been pressing into his side overnight, the digifoam unable to contour to the awkward shape. The drug was already working, and his hangover was fading quickly. “I have time to shower?”

  “Think so, and I made breakfast for you—bacon and eggs with orange juice,” Gibbs said.

  “You cooked?” Moss exclaimed.

  “The kitchen helped,” Gibbs admitted.

  “And coffee might suit me better,” Moss stood slowly and made his way to the bathroom, the pain he had been feeling quickly replaced by a singular pressure on his bladder.

  After reluctantly forcing himself from the shower, Moss emerged into the main room of the apartment to find his plate in a warming nook. He pulled it and joined the three at the table.

  “Now we are all here, I tell you the plan,” Powers said, Moss forking the food in as he listened. “I have packed some provisions for you at the specifications of your transporter. She will take you as far as the first town, but from there you will need to make further arrangements for the next leg of your journey. The world is strictly patrolled and unsafe for people, so the trip will be perilous. If you have any remaining business in the city, I would take care of it in the next short while.”

  “The networks in here are secure?” Moss asked, suspecting he knew the answer.

  “No more secure networks will you find anywhere,” Powers affirmed.

  “Good.” Moss stood, his plate already clean of food. “I want to make a call.”

  “Ooh,” Gibbs and Ynna called out like teenagers.

  “You have some time,” Powers said. “There are vidphones in the bedrooms, too.”

  “Thanks,” Moss said, heading straight for a room and closing the door. He pulled the scrap of paper with Issy’s routing number scrawled on it and input the information. A ringing tone emitted from the black screen and Moss worried that she wouldn’t be there to answer. Her father, Vihaan’s face appeared, filling the screen.

  “Hello, young Moss. It’s been too long,” he said. “How are you?”

  “Well, thank you,” Moss said, his voice formally stilted.

  “That is good to hear,” he replied. “I presume it is my daughter to whom you wish to speak?”

  “It is, not that it isn’t nice to speak with you as well,” Moss said.

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20