The Alley

The woman stepped through the open door first. She wore a silver halter dress and matching ankle boots. Her hair was cropped short in a pixie style and dyed a deep lavender. She held a black rod in one hand reminiscent of old-time police batons but had a copper cap on the tip of it. Two men emerged behind her dressed in all black.

"You know what the price is if you don't repay us." Her voice purred through the alley. She prowled forward until the copper end of the rod was barely an inch away from the man's outstretched leg.

"P-please," he sputtered through his cracked Visor. He cradled a limp wrist against his chest. "I just need a little more time."

The woman spat on the ground, her full strawberry pink lips twisting in a sneer. "I've heard that before. Too many times."

She lifted the rod from his leg and pointed it at his chest. A whimper escaped his throat. My feet moved before my brain could stop them. I shoved Melody back and took a step forward.

"What are you doing?" I snapped at the woman.

Her shoulders went stiff. She turned her head slowly and icy blue eyes sent prickles running up my arms.

"What are you doing?" Mel rasped from behind me. "Let's go!"

My hands curled into fists and I planted my feet. "One touch of that rod will paralyze him for thirty minutes and disable any devices in his immediate vicinity, which means—"

"Which means he will die," the woman cut me off. "That's the idea, Rover."

She jerked her head at the men. They moved toward me and Mel. Panic laced through my gut and my treacherous feet finally decided to run. I grabbed Melody's arm and sprinted back the way we had come. The men's boots hammered the ground behind us.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid! Why did you do that? I yelled in my head.

The pool of light from the LED lamp at the end of the alley loomed closer. Mel flagged, her heels skidding on the concrete. She shrieked and her arm was wrenched from my grip. My hand floundered in the air behind me, searching for hers, then I slowed to look over my shoulder. One of the men twisted her arms behind her back. The other still pounded towards me.

"Calyx, go!" she yelled at me. Her makeup had started to streak underneath her Visor. "Run!"

The Immune held her wrists with one hand and clamped his other around her jaw, silencing her.

My chest pinched tight and my eyes stung. I ran. Past the streetlamp and between the buildings across from the night club. When I reached the end of that alley, I veered left and chanced a look for my pursuer. He was still there, just a little farther behind. I willed more speed into my burning legs and zigzagged through the city, headed south.

It usually took almost an hour to get back to our apartment in Genesis Southside without taking the shortcut through the nightclub alley. If I sprinted the whole way, then that could be cut down to twenty minutes, but I couldn't sprint for that long. The flats I wore were rubbing my heels raw and the balls of my feet felt bruised.

I slowed to a jog and listened for the Immune. My breath wheezed through the gills and ports in my Oris. I estimated that I had been running for about ten minutes. Voices carried through the quiet city behind me. I ducked into a side street. A small dumpster occupied the sidewalk halfway down the block. It was shrouded in shadow and I would have missed it if I hadn't turned down the street.

I lifted the lid and hopped up over the side. The lid bumped against my backside as I slid into the stink. Garbage bags crinkled underneath me, and rancid air puffed through holes in the plastic into my face. My eyes watered as I cupped my hands over my Oris. The gills filtered most of the rotten egg smell but not all of it.

I slurped in one shallow breath after another, my knees pressed against my chest. My heart still pounded and showed no sign of slowing down. I strained to hear any movement outside as I sat in suffocating, complete darkness. I was used to crawling into cramped, dark places, courtesy of my occupation, but I always had a headlamp or glow bar at work.

If the Naked Faces didn't find me and I waited long enough, until first light, then I could make it home amid the first commuters of the day. I could even hop on a bus. City transportation shut down at ten o'clock every night and law enforcement would do one more sweep of the streets to make sure everyone was indoors. If you went out after that you were on your own.

Mel and I knew it was risky leaving the club halfway through the night, but we never liked the idea of staying there until dawn. We had done it every weekend for the past year. We had talked about the risks. Two young women alone in the city streets after curfew. Mel and I knew what could happen but never thought for a moment that we would become victims. Best laid plans and all that.

I pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes. Tears heaved up inside my chest. I swallowed them back down. Crying wouldn't help Melody. Our plan had worked so far. One of us had gotten away. I just had to see it through to the end. It was up to me to bring her home. I had to go to the police and convince them to help me find her.

Shivers coursed up and down my body. A chill set in from spent adrenaline and half-dried sweat. I hugged my legs and laid my head against my knees. It was damp inside the dumpster and the bags of garbage were lumpy, hard, and squishy. My short dress did nothing for me in the way of warmth, but at least the maroon cotton was comfortable.

People were talking. The voices were muffled by the metal, but a sharp laugh startled me. I lifted my head, wincing at the crick in my neck. Pale light filtered through the cracks around the lid. I blinked the grogginess out of my eyes and lifted the lid a few inches. It was morning already. A bus passed by at the end of the street followed by a woman in a business suit clacking along the sidewalk. It was still early. The sunlight was pale and gray. I had fallen asleep for only a few hours, but I still couldn't believe I had slept at all.

I flipped the dumpster's lid up against the concrete wall with a bang. I didn't care who heard me anymore as I unfolded my stiff limbs and climbed out of the garbage. My feet stung when they hit the ground. I winced, hissing through my teeth. I definitely felt like I had been folded up tight in a metal box.

I shuffled down the street and headed for home. My leg muscles protested every step and my back and shoulders ached. Something had spilled on the side of my dress that smelled sour like rotten milk except it had a green hue. My hands, arms, and legs were spattered with dirt and grime. I was sure my face wasn't any cleaner and there could have been strips of newspaper coiled in my hair judging by the looks people gave me.

The apartment appeared down the street. I broke into an uneven jog.

It was an old-style house with two stories and a narrow front. There were quite a few of them in Southside. There was a reason it was called Old Town in a derogatory sense. Most people didn't like the old-style buildings with porches and window trim where the contents and purposes of the rooms were carefully planned for comfort and function. Mel and I loved it and the elderly lady who owned it, which was another reason Southside became Old Town. The population was primarily the older generation whose parents had lived through the Purge. The younger generations didn't like to think about the Purge outside of history class.

There had been three stages to the Purge. First, there was the Contagion, a virus with a 50% mortality rate. Next were the Riots that led to escalated murder rates worldwide and international war. The Riots started because governments imposed isolation laws on their citizens to slow the spread of the Contagion but struggled to enforce them. The wars began because people tried to run from the Contagion by escaping to other countries, but those governments had to protect their own citizens. The worldwide community tried communication and democracy to contain the Contagion and the Riots, but ultimately resorted to force. The oceans and coastlines became littered with the wreckage and skeletons of aircraft and ships.

Last but not least, there was the Fallout. It came from civilization's acts of war and turned nature against humans. Rain became acidic while the air and water became poisonous. The earth grew infertile, vitamins and minerals leeched out of the soil. The Contagion still ran rampant through the spaces shared by humans and other diseases resurfaced. The human race was nearly eradicated, our own fertility plummeting due to the effects of the hostile environment.

Masks and barriers became a way of life. Until the Immune surfaced. The first Immune were discovered by mistake. It was easy for most people to commit suicide with so many outlets, but a rare few were unaffected when they removed their protective equipment. They became our hope, the proof that humanity could adapt and survive. They drew the remaining few together and spearheaded the start of a new civilization. The city of Genesis was commissioned and built by the Naked Faces to be the birthplace of a renewed human existence.

It was still rough around the edges. We were still learning to walk again as a species, but we would survive and be wiser the second time around. At least I hoped we would.

I thumped up the front steps and across the boards of the porch. I slapped my palm against the scanner by the door, my breath ragged and heart wild. I suddenly appreciated the high-tech security system that our landlady had retrofitted into the ancient house.

"Calyx Williams." A smooth male voice casually drawled my name.

I stopped breathing. My hand shook against the scanner. The glass plate flashed green and the door locks clicked open. Dread slithered up the back of my neck. I straightened and turned toward the voice anyway.