They left the hotel and stepped into the balmy twilight of the evening. The streets were already busy with people coming and going, most of them headed in the direction of the Market. Small swarms of flying insects flitted about the naked lightbulbs hanging from the entrances to the shacks that lined the alley. The smells of cooking food were everywhere, and as they walked to the refinery sector, Barrow found himself relaxing. He had been out, walking around each night, often enough for people to have gotten used to the sight of him in a radius of a few blocks. He did not stand out as an outsider anymore, and now that he was walking with Zoe, a few people even gave him friendly nods as they passed. It reminded Barrow of why he had been able to call the slums home during the years he had been here. They were a dangerous place, often ruthless and cruel, but there was also a very strong sense of community and of loyalty to those who were in the same situation as you. Aside from the arrogant Corporation agents and those who worked for them, everybody in here had fallen on hard times in one way or another. The shared poverty did not engender generosity, but it did give someone a sense of belonging.
Rigel was also with them, however, and despite his best efforts to blend in, it was still painfully obvious that he was from outside. It was more than the way he kept looking around everywhere, jumpy, as if he expected someone to come out of every corner with a gun aimed right at him. The marks of having lived a privileged life in the city were all over him, from the way he spoke to the way he conducted himself. Added to that was the frostiness with which he met Zoe’s attempts at conversation, and as they left the Market neighborhood, the walk became increasingly uncomfortable.
It took them almost an hour to walk to the refinery sector. It was on the outskirts of the slums, an area of large warehouses, clandestine factories, and wide-open areas of compacted earth that served as everything from illegal airship docks to open-air laboratories. The unforgiving desert was easily accessible from there, something that was good or bad depending on a person’s point of view. For the many shady chemical companies that operated in here, it was an easy way to escape the strict environmental regulations of the city while keeping up with the ever-rising demands of urban life. For the inhabitants of the slums, it was a source of employment, albeit a dangerous one. As they approached, Zoe told them that Graham worked there. Barrow remembered Graham from his days in the slums as a slightly chubby, awkward teenager. He told this to Zoe, speaking over Rigel’s head as he refused to participate in the conversation.
“Not anymore,” Zoe told him, her mouth set in a grim line. “He’s been working in one of the Corporation refineries for almost ten years. Lost a lot of weight and can’t get it back, no matter how much he eats. At first he used to joke about it. You remember how he was. He would tell us that it meant he would finally be skinny for life. But now… it’s painful to look at him. He’s nothing but skin and bones. I heard one of the guests back at the hotel one night as he was talking with a scientist or something like that. He was a manager in Graham’s refinery, and he was saying that the members of his workforce were dying off too young. Blamed it on the chemicals to which they were exposed every day. But the way he talked about it—it’s like he was complaining that his cattle weren’t producing enough.”
The fury in her tone was barely controlled. Barrow tried to replace the mental picture of his chubby teenage friend with an emaciated, frail man but couldn’t.
“That’s horrible,” Rigel said, speaking up for the first time in a long while. “Don’t the workers have rights? A union, maybe?”
Zoe chuckled. “Not in here, Rigel. If you want to eat, you do what you have to. You’ve only seen the really nice parts of the slums so far, the Night Market, the hotel, and so on. All those places are an exception to how things are here. Trust me, nobody lives here because they want to. If we could, I think every single one of us would go live in the city.”
“Why don’t you?” Rigel asked earnestly, his face intermittently visible as they walked beneath isolated lightbulbs along the large, empty refinery streets.
“It’s not that easy,” Zoe answered. “Sure, you can get inside without much trouble, but if you are not a registered Auroran citizen, you simply can’t get a job. Or rent a place to stay. They check for the birth implant, and there’s no way of faking that.
“Without a job you’re reduced to begging, and the cops spot you right away. Then they toss you back here, and you are worse off, because you are seen as a kind of deserter. As if you thought that you were better than all of us, and that’s why you decided to leave.”
Barrow saw Rigel nod thoughtfully. “I met a little girl a few days ago at Green Park. Couldn’t be older than twelve. She was with her little brother, and they had this enormous suitcase with them. They were from here, obviously. I wonder what happened to them.”
“Sometimes it’s easier for children to manage to stay in Aurora for good, if they are adopted by a citizen. I wouldn’t bet on it, though. It’s not very common and there are…. There are bad people who prey on children from the slums. They know they are helpless and vulnerable. Sometimes you see them on the news when the police catch them. The things they have done to some of those kids are sickening.”
“But there must be a way around the system,” Rigel insisted, looking at Barrow. “After all, Steve managed to find a job.”
Zoe shook her head sadly. “Stevie is an Auroran citizen. He just ended up in the slums after some hard times, but he was born in the city.” Rigel gave Barrow a curious look but, thankfully, decided not to ask any more questions.
Barrow grabbed his melted key pendant briefly and walked on. Zoe knew the story of the fire because she had wheedled it out of him after years of insistence, but besides her and the little gang of friends he used to hang out with here in the slums, Barrow had not told that part of his story to anyone. He had a feeling he might tell Rigel if he asked, but not right then. Maybe not for a long time.
“Zoe,” Barrow said instead, “I think that over there is Jared’s warehouse.”
He pointed across a rectangular empty lot to a cluster of two single-story buildings with no windows. They were set in an L shape, blocking off two of the sides of the rectangle. The third side was flanked by the street they had been walking, and the last side led out into the open desert. The empty lot was lit by two lonely lampposts that gave out a feeble yellow glow against the dark desert night. Beyond them, light shone in one of the buildings through its open main access gate. It was barely possible to make out a battered sign above the gate spelling out Jared’s name.
“Yes, this is it,” Zoe confirmed. “That over there is the warehouse, and the other building is the refinery.”
“Let’s go, then,” Barrow said, looking at Rigel, who nodded. “Zoe, thanks for everything. I’ll keep in touch.”
She shook her head. “I’ll go with you, at least until your deal is done. I know lots of people here, Stevie. I’ll know if they are trying to scam you.”
Barrow debated with himself briefly, but this past week he had come to know Zoe well enough to know she could still take care of herself. And besides, she could actually prove helpful, so he finally nodded and headed off across the lot. The other two followed.
It was eerily quiet as they made their way to the beckoning lights of the open building. Out here in the open, away from the narrow winding alleys and the crush of people going about their business, the desert night was cold. There was a slight wind, which ruffled Barrow’s hair, whistling ominously. Barrow felt around under his belt until he found the reassuring touch of warm metal next to his skin. Having a gun made him feel a bit safer, more in control of the situation. He had no doubt that Streaker would show up with the goods, but the probability that he would try to double-cross them was very high. He had already been paid, after all. Streaker might decide to simply keep all that money without giving them anything in return.
Well, they had come too far already, and this was their only shot. Nothing to do but follow through.
As they got nearer, Barrow saw three men moving about inside the place, talking and passing the time. It looked like the warehouse was really a repair shop of some kind, as there were lots of vehicles in various states of disrepair inside and a pile of scattered auto parts by the heavy gate. There was an off-roader in there as well, old and battered from the looks of it but polished and shiny, giving off reflections of the bright lights in the warehouse’s interior. That was good. At least they had procured the merchandise as per the agreement.
They were halfway there when the three men walked out onto the lot to meet them. Barrow did not hurry and merely nodded when Rigel got closer to whisper, “Bodyguard,” indicating they should continue the charade of Rigel being a rich guy from the city.
The two groups met a few paces outside the repair shop, with light spilling over all of them. Streaker was there, along with two guys he did not know. There didn’t appear to be anyone else.
“Streaker,” Barrow said, coming forward and shaking the junkie’s hand. “Good to see you kept your end of the deal.”
“Course I did, Barrow,” Streaker answered, scratching his nose with a long and filthy fingernail. “I said I would, didn’t I? Took me a while to get the engine, though. These things are almost antiques now, very hard to come by.”
“And it’s ready?” Barrow asked.
“Yes, sir,” the man standing next to Streaker answered. He was thin and balding, with a rough edge to his voice. “The vehicle’s been fully charged, and the backup fuel engine also had a refill. Should be good to drive you pretty far out. The charge alone will last you four to five hours, more if you drive around during the day.”
“This is Oswald, Barrow,” Streaker explained, gesturing at the man who had just spoken. “My brother-in-law. Told you about him before, didn’t I? And this gentleman over here is Jared. He’s an old friend of mine. Agreed to let us use his shop for the little exchange.”
Barrow shook both their hands. “This is Rigel, my employer,” he introduced in turn. “And you probably know Zoe from the Market Hotel.”
“Of course,” Jared said, speaking up with a surprisingly deep voice. “How have you been, Zoe?”
He said it politely enough, but the look he gave her was enough to make Barrow’s skin crawl. Zoe edged in closer to him.
“Please, follow me,” Jared told them all. “Rigel, sir, I hope you will find the vehicle we have procured adequate for your needs. I myself helped Oswald with the fuel recharge, and I had some of my crew go over the more complex repairs. As you can see, I have lots of spare parts in here.”
“I thought you were in the refinery business,” Rigel said, looking around curiously as he went inside the repair shop.
Barrow imitated him. It was larger than it looked from the outside, with a big open space in front where the off-roader was and a veritable maze of vehicle parts, unfinished repair jobs, and mysterious crates filling up the back with narrow walking spaces in between them. Barrow scanned the area with a practiced eye, but nothing seemed amiss. And the off-roader itself was better than he had hoped it would be. It looked like it would be able to take them out to the desert and back without breaking apart.
“This is it,” Jared announced, stopping beside the vehicle. “I got it from a couple of archaeologists that had fallen on hard times and decided to sell. Full Auroran license and plates, so you won’t be stopped at the military checkpoints on the perimeter when you leave the city. The suspension is not the best, but a quick trip should present no problem. From what Streaker tells me, you were planning on making a single trip and back, correct?”
“That’s right,” Rigel said, walking all around the car slowly and making a big show of looking at everything. Barrow thought he was overdoing it a bit, but Jared seemed to buy it. Barrow did notice that both Oswald and Streaker were standing back now, fidgeting and nervous. They seemed to want nothing more than to get out of there as fast as possible, but the thought had barely occurred to Barrow when Jared took out a little remote and clicked it. The heavy gates that closed the entrance to the repair shop began to clang shut.
“For security,” Jared explained in answer to the dirty look Barrow gave him. “It might look safe out there, but you never can be sure. I think your employer will feel safer behind closed doors. Don’t you agree?”
Rigel had reached the hood of the vehicle and attempted to open it on his own. He lifted, grimaced in pain, and dropped it immediately.
“Barrow, open this for me,” he said authoritatively to cover up the awkward incident.
“Of course,” Barrow answered right away. He walked over there and lifted the hood. The engine seemed fine.
“Oswald, Streaker,” Jared said, momentarily hidden by the lifted hood. “Why don’t you go get us the papers to finalize the transaction? And take the lady with you. Offer her something to drink.”
“What?” Streaker blurted. “Oh, right. Sure. This way, Miss.”
“Okay, be right back, Steve,” Zoe said after a brief hesitation. She left with the other two through a side door that led into some kind of office.
Rigel spent some more time examining the engine, and Barrow had no idea if he knew what he was doing or not.
Then there was a loud click, a barely repressed hiss of static.
And Barrow knew.
“Duck!” he yelled, yanking Rigel down with him to the floor.
Bang
!
The gunshot was immediately followed by the loud sound of shattering glass somewhere to the right. Rigel and Barrow crashed to the floor at the same time another shot was fired, but there was no impact nearby. Barrow exchanged a look with Rigel, who was terrified and looking around wildly. He gestured for Rigel to take out his gun as he did the same.
“Don’t do that,” a raspy voice said from behind them. A voice Barrow recognized. A voice that had threatened him over the phone just a few days ago. “There’s five of us, Barrow. We got both of you in our sights. Drop the guns, and then come up with your hands up. Now.”