Authors: David Luna
Inna attempts to turn back over, wincing in pain, but Neil pins her down and locks her in place. He digs his nails into her thighs upon seeing the metrics of the city’s carrying capacity flash one after another, each graph decreasing in size as the population does the same.
“No...Neil, stop...,” she murmurs.
Neil ramps up the pace as he remembers his conversation with Adrianne when she helped him search through the Archives, then recalls the image of her tied to a chair, her face covered with a burlap sack, as the hostage video transmits on every hacked digital billboard screen all because of him.
“Ow...stop it...,” Inna says again, continuing to be ignored. She pushes away, but fails.
Neil pounds between her thighs as he remembers Leon trapped at the edge of the sinking wharf. He can still feel the coldness on his fingertips after pulling the metallic trigger, killing a man he’s known since the Academy at point blank.
Inna desperately kicks and squirms, no longer enjoying any of this, but Neil’s trapped in another world. A torturous nightmare. He hears the gala protester shouting in the ballroom, “Murderer!” All the survivors in attendance turn towards Neil and shout the same thing, seemingly straight at him while converging in from all directions, a haunting chant. “Murderer! Murderer!”
The crescendo of shouts reaches a peak, his guilty conscience at a breaking point when suddenly, “Neil!!!” Inna screams in a bloodcurdling scream.
Her shriek immediately silences the voices as Neil whips back, eyes wide and severely out of breath, panting as he comes to. He’s completely disoriented, like someone awakening from a nightmare. Inna covers herself with her hands and scoots away, both afraid and violated.
“I’m not one of your whores,” she derides him.
Silence, as Inna waits for any sort of response, any sort of apology, any words to leave Neil’s lips, but nothing. Neil merely lowers his head in shame.
Inna rises and shoves her things back into her satchel, having had enough.
“What are you doing?” Neil meekly asks, finally able to get out a string of words. No response. It’s clear what she’s doing. “Inna, wait.” Neil chases her to the living room as she finishes with her last few items and storms away. “You can’t be out there alone. What if they check you?”
“Then let them do it,” she whirls around in defeat. “Assigned. Not assigned. Partner or no partner. You’re no better than Damian. Just a coward.” She rips open the door when suddenly…
“Did you miss me?”
It’s Paulina, Neil’s original call girl, standing seductively in the doorway. Her satin black dress is visible beneath her trench coat. “Who are you?” Paulina asks, not even attempting to cover herself up.
“That’s a good question,” another voice chimes in. The voice belongs to Mazer as he follows in after Paulina.
Neil and Inna exchange glances as Mazer eyes Inna, recognizing her, though unable to pinpoint from where. There is a brief silence as the duo knows they’re caught dead in the water.
“She’s a call girl,” Neil says off the top of his head. “Our second session.”
Mazer squints before nodding to accept the explanation. “Well I brought you one too,” he says.
“One’s enough, sir.”
Mazer grabs Neil’s elbow and leans in close. “Where is it unclear that non-participation will not be tolerated?” His stern glare puts Neil in his place. “I read the filed complaint,” he reveals. His clinched jaw soon gives way to his usual faux charismatic grin. “So please, take both.”
Neil looks to Inna. His eyes tell her they have to do this. He has to keep up the image of being a Collector. Inna shakes her head and scoffs. Neil might have to go through with this, but she doesn’t. She pushes past Paulina and storms down the corridor.
“Don’t think you can have that affect on me,” Paulina jokes as she pats Neil.
“It’s clear she’s emotionally attached,” Mazer notes. “I’ll have her retired from the system.” He motions for Neil to continue forward with Paulina. “Go on, you earned that fourth stripe.”
Paulina struts forward and places her arm around Neil’s neck, then drags him into the bedroom.
While Neil keeps up the façade and reluctantly participates in his night with the Agency-issued call girl, Inna rides the SectorLink in tears on her way back to the slums. She can barely make out the mugshots of the four Brigade Leaders as the last digital billboard shrinks in the distance, the tram exiting out of Downtown. All four faces have red X’s drawn through them along with a notice at the bottom: THE AGENCY THANKS YOU FOR YOUR PARITICPATION. She knows Neil must have helped achieve that milestone, but at what cost?
With the satchel open on her lap, Inna stares at the framed photo of the angel statue from the church where her grandparents were married.
“What’s worse than being alone?”
She remembers asking herself this on many occasions throughout the years while paired with Damian, intending to serve him the ultimate punishment. Now, after all that has happened, she herself is the one who is alone. No family. No Neil.
Her self-pity manages to worsen upon returning to her antique shop to find the windows broken. The shop has been raided by looters during her time away as most of the items are either stolen or smashed to the floor. She adds this to her list. No family, no Neil, and now no shop. Everything’s been stripped away by this city, even her right to live.
She drops her satchel in defeat.
Slayter leans against the hood of his utility truck facing the slums. He’s parked near the entrance to the transfer tunnels, waiting while Neil escorts a line of five volunteers to Check-In Guard at the kiosk station.
“You look like shit,” the guard tells Neil, but Neil doesn’t even register the comment. From the black bags beneath his eyes, it’s clear he hasn’t slept in days.
Check-In Guard logs each volunteer into the system, including a Praying Volunteer reciting through psalms and a twelve year old boy wrapped in a raincoat. Check-In Guard notices the yellow jacket designed to shield again water. “Don’t get your hopes up, kid,” he quips.
Neil prods the volunteers towards the underground tunnel entrance where Gate Guard unlocks the wrought iron bars and leads them inside.
“Father forgives you,” Praying Volunteer says to Neil as he’s ushered away. Suddenly Neil snaps and
BASHES
the volunteer with his shock baton straight in the nose, the notion of needing forgiveness not sitting well. Blood gushes down his chin.
“Jesus, Neil, calm down,” Gate Guard says as he blocks Neil from attacking again. Neil threatens Gate Guard with the baton, on edge, before backing down.
Praying Volunteer resumes his holy verses as Gate Guard helps him up and shoves him inside the tunnel, the iron gate slamming shut behind him. Gate Guard loads the volunteers into a cattle car and taps the rear of the truck for it to pull away.
In transit, two Transfer Tunnel SEOs stand guard from each side of the bumper. Their bodies sway as the truck creeps along the old mining tracks deeper into the tunnels.
Meanwhile, Neil joins Mazer overlooking Downtown from the balcony back at Agency Headquarters.
“They still have hope,” Mazer observes. He looks to the haunting statue of the child, its features destroyed by decades of acid rain, reaching out with its stone fingers. “Hope is blinding,” he continues. “It can block out reality, which is even more hopeless than they want to believe.”
Riding through the cavernous tunnels, Praying Volunteer notices beads of sweat forming across Raincoat Boy’s forehead before spotting wires poking out from the rear of his coat. Raincoat Boy adjusts his jacket to hide them from view, but Praying Volunteer scoots away, eyes wide, his recitations becoming louder.
Raincoat Boy motions for him to shush, nodding towards the SEOs nearby on the bumper. “Be quiet you idiot. You’re already going to die,” he reminds him.
The other volunteers start to catch on, also backing away while whispering amongst themselves. It causes a scene, exactly what Raincoat Boy didn’t want. He kicks at them all. “Quiet. Quiet!” he shushes.
Suddenly a pair of boots land in the middle of the truck bed as a Tunnel SEO hops over from the rear bumper. Raincoat Boy diverts attention to Praying Volunteer, but Tunnel SEO lifts him up and takes notice of the bulky yellow jacket.
With his feet dangling in the air, the boy is able to glance up ahead and spot the entrance to the processing facility coming into view – his main target. He hugs his jacket tight to buy time as Tunnel SEO attempts to zip it open.
As the cattle car pulls within one hundred meters of the facility’s steel double doors, Raincoat Boy holds his ground. He squirms and swats Tunnel SEO away as the SEO continues to tug at the coat.
Twenty-five meters. Twenty. Fifteen.
As the vehicle slows to its destination, Raincoat Boy manages to finally break free. He tries to leap over the side, but Tunnel SEO reaches out and yanks him back by the collar, the force ripping open the coat and revealing blocks of
homemade explosives
wrapped around the boy’s torso. Tunnel SEO’s eyes barely register the danger when the boy flips a switch.
BOOM!
A fireball incinerates the cattle car and everyone in it, the blast causing chunks of the roof to cave in. The flames barrel towards the processing facility and eat everything in its path – another pair of guards, a second and third cattle car – but taper off just as they get a taste of the steel double doors, coming up shy from the intended target.
Simultaneously, the electronic tickers and digital billboards in the Downtown Sector flicker as a rumble sounds in the distance, but they ultimately remain on. Suicide mission failed.
Still outside on the fourteenth floor balcony, Neil peeks at the frayed Dream Catcher in hand.
“Some people think where there’s hope, there’s love,” he says.
Mazer scrunches his brow as he notices many of the display screens stabilizing after a reboot. He can sense they just dodged a bullet. He doesn’t like near misses like that, and they are becoming more and more common.
“There’s no room for hope,” he finally responds. “Where there’s hope there’s despair. We’re trying to ease that suffering.”
Just then, the moss webbing within Neil’s Dream Catcher completely disintegrates as it is swept away with the wind. He clinches his fist around the empty circled hoop, void of hope and full of despair.
But little does Neil know that his despair is about to worsen. For at that exact moment over in the slums, Kerra Shea – the sixteen-year old girl who traded spots with Inna – just reached her original Collection Date.
******
Rock Quarry
A new restricted zone went into effect today after some kids stumbled upon a rock quarry in the slums. I hear this was where they extracted the limestone used to build the Wall. I’m surprised any of it still exists. Wasn’t it all converted into the landfill?
-Quado
20
M
azer addresses the Collectors – Cecil, Dale, Raymond, Garrison, Slayer, and Neil – in the Agency conference room. Photos of Brock, Jace, Chelsea, and Leon are projected on a screen, each crossed out with a red X.
“Our interrogations have proved successful,” Mazer announces. “We’ve collected all four Brigade Leaders and learned more about how they operate.”
Mazer cycles through a series of slides: the aftermath of the transfer tunnel explosion, a half destroyed water tank distribution truck, and another collapsed digital billboard blocking the road.
“But the rise in bombings is a harsh reminder that we can’t lose focus.” Next, three photos of
new Brigade Leaders
appear. “These are the Agency’s primary new enemies,” he proclaims.
“How long are we going to do this?” Cecil chimes in from the front row. “Are we Collectors or bounty hunters?”
“We’ll be what we must to help this city ease its burden,” Mazer responds “We have to adapt to survive.”
“For every one we capture, another joins,” Cecil laments.
“And for every one that joins, we’ll capture. It’s not rocket science,” Mazer fires back. “Be on alert and don’t underestimate their influence. Anyone is capable of becoming an enemy to the Agency. Man. Woman. Child. Young. Old. Even those sitting here in this room.”
Mazer brings up Inna’s profile on the projector screen, then in dual display, adds Kerra’s next to it. Neil immediately shifts in his seat while Mazer asks, “Can anyone tell me what’s wrong here?”
The Collectors lean forwards to get a better look, except for Neil, eyeing those around him, his focus split between Mazer and Slayter.
“Different ages. Different heights. Weights. Different blood samples,” Mazer lists. “Besides being female they have nothing in common, yet one was accidentally submitted in place of the other.” BREACH OF CONTRACT appears on Inna’s profile. “Or was it an accident?” Mazer questions.
Murmurs sound from around the room. Mazer nods to Slayter to proceed. As Slayter rises to move about the table, Neil’s heart races, gripping the chair handle and bracing for the worst, but to his surprise Slayter passes by and instead looms behind Raymond and Garrison.
“How the hell could you two collect the wrong volunteer?” Mazer asks, putting Raymond and Garrison in the hot seat.
Neil remains silent as he watches Slayter lift Raymond to his feet and forcefully bind his hands behind his back.
“It wasn’t us. This is a mistake,” Raymond defends.
“There’s a final verification check inside the facility,” Mazer reveals. Not very many people know that fact, never having actually seen inside the processing facility, including Neil. “The Agency doesn’t make mistakes,” Mazer assures them.
Slayter yanks Garrison upright and ties his hands.
“Eeeeena,” Garrison pronounces as he reads the profile, quickly realizing it’s the same name he stumbled over before. “Hold up man, he’s telling the truth. It was Neil,” Garrison defends. “Neil, ain’t that the girl you submitted for us?”
“You two were the only ones assigned to the slums that day,” Mazer interjects.
“But Neil was there,” Garrison claims. “C’mon Neil, tell ‘em.”