16

When we arrive, the police station is in chaos. They tried as much as possible to repair it after the attack, but its desolation is evident. Officers are hustling around, distributing equipment, exchanging nervous small talk and suiting up with assault armor.

Kaloaan and I step out of the SUV. I’m nearly run over by a trolley of medical equipment. “Tash! Tash give me some good news,” Kaloaan calls.

The lanky officer shakes his head. “Sorry chief, I’ve got none. We’re short on guns.”

“Short on guns?” Kaloaan asks incredulously. “How on earth are we short on guns?”

“No idea, but we are.”

“Damn,” Kaloaan mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Well… give the rest baton and riot shields.”

“Are you serious sir?”

“Do you have a better idea?”

Tash frowns.

“Sir! Should I give everybody a med pack or only the medics?” an officer named Turia asks.

“Why hasn’t this been sorted already? Where are the Swifters?”

“Not here yet,” Tash murmurs.

“Are you kidding me?” I ask Kaloaan. This is a complete mess.

He glances at me, but quickly dismisses my existence.

The distant roar of many engines silences the bustle.

I turn, walking around the SUV onto the empty road. The roar grows louder until it’s nearly deafening. Kaloaan, Tash, Grell, Turia, Vosnik and dozens of other officers join me, staring down the road.

Like a herd of wild horses, a group of Dune Rovers veer onto the lane, engines screaming. People clad in track pants and torn hoodies are packed into them and standing on the doors and bumpers holding the roof bars with guns in hand and grenades tied to their shoulders with rope. They’re hollering and firing into the air, not stopping as they draw nearer. We’re forced to back onto the front of the station as they screech to a halt, a good number of them leaping off and landing with precise rolls. There’s probably around sixty Swifters total. Far more than I would’ve reckoned.

A scrawny man with a dark blue spikes for hair and a rainbow goatee that’s so long he’s tied it into knots saunters over. His face has black streaks across it and his eyes dart around like a rabid animal. He stops in front of the crowd of policemen and the Swifters press up behind him, bouncing on their heels and twirling their guns. Where did they get so many guns from?

Kaloaan steps to the front, opposite to the rabid looking man. “Where’s Zorikan?”

The man twitches. “Name’s Dakrey Valaggrasgor. Pleasure,” he says, extending a hand. It’s covered in tattoos and morbid rings.

Kaloaan doesn’t take it. “Where’s Zorikan?” he presses again.

Dakrey gives a mock wince. “D’you miss him.”

Oh no. I knew Zorikan’s men had lost some of their loyalty for him but…wait, never mind.

The crowd parts and his familiar figure walks calmly up to Kaloaan. “I hear you need guns,” he says.

Kaloaan’s taken aback, glancing to the others. Tash shakes his head in surprise and Turia wide eyed.

How did he know that?

“What makes you say that?” Kaloaan responds, pulling his confidence back together.

Zorikan shrugs, then jerks his chin towards the police. Two dozen guns clatter to the ground at they’re feet.

All the officers stare at Kaloaan eagerly. He gives a cautious nod, and they’re picked up and handed around. “Thank you.”

“Well then, what’re we waiting for? Let’s move,” Zorikan orders, turning away and signaling for the Swifters to clamber back into the rovers.

“I thought we’d agreed to attack at dawn?” Kaloaan calls.

Zorikan halts, then turned slowly on his heel. No matter how many times I saw him, he always appeared eerier. “Qiara’s guards shift at nine. That’s half an hour from now.”

Kaloaan blinks in confusion. “We’d made an agreement.”

“I don’t care,” Zorikan slices, coolly. “Now’s the time. We’re going now.”

Kaloaan’s flustered. Not a common sight.

I dig my nails into my palm as I catch myself scanning the mob for Rieka. Damnit let her go.

Tash leans forward and whispers into Kaloaan’s ear, “With the guns here, we’ve got all we need. We’re prepared to set out now.”

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

I notice Kaloaan grit his teeth and his hands curled into fists. “So be it.”

Zorikan nodds. “Fantastic.” He turns to the Swifters. “Alright then, make yourselves at home!”

They cheer, surging forwards, powering straight through the line of stunned policemen. Dakrey skitters up to Kaloaan, growls, and took off. Kaloaan fumes with anger.

“Hey, Kally!” somebody cries. I spin around, a smile overwhelming my face at the thought of seeing Sekera again.

But nope. It was Akila. “Hey!” I respond as he hugs me fiercely. She’s wearing a white undervest, a yellow beanie and baggy jeans with a hefty construction belt around them. She looks just like the day I last saw her. The day we tried to infiltrate the underground Bansilin factory. The day Varan died. The last time I spoke to Rieka properly.

“Crazy innit?” she says, slinging her arm over me. “The shit we end up doing just gets more and more ambitions. I honestly think we should succeed at something before moving to something more difficult.”

I laugh. “True. Hey, tell me, who the hell are all these people?”

“Yeah you been gone a while Kally,” she says. “Zorikan got a load of recruits since then. Mostly from East Side.”

“I’d thought his number was depleting?”

“Oh they were. We were real few for a while. Twenty five-ish, at our lowest, but then this flood of newbies came in… crazy bastards like that hound Dakrey.”

“I’m surprised you stayed.”

“What?”

Maybe I shouldn’t have said that. “That you stayed with Zorikan… you know, after the Raven’s Nest thing.”

“Oh because a couple people died? That shit happens all the time! This is dangerous business. Plus, where else would I go? I’m too ludicrous to get a job,” she laughs in her raspy voice. “But yeah, Reeler, Barrlin, Varan and all the others… they’ll be missed. Hey you seen Deqar since then?”

I grimace. “Yeah. He left too though. I guess he couldn’t take it.”

“Huh. I hope he’s alright.”

“Yeah… me too.”

“Oh, but by the way…”

“Yeah?”

“Your little lady friend’s here,” she says with a wicked, toothy grin.

“Rieka’s… ah shit.”

“Oh damn. Yeah, she told me about what a cunt you are. I didn’t believe a word! Anyway. I best be going. Don’t want all those tasty police donuts to be finished. Peace!”

I swallowed.

To commit suicide or not.

Is it better to lose your life performing a heroic action, or to preserve it for future heroic actions.

I catch myself looking around for her, but not before I see her… and she sees me. The impossibly brief moment of eye contact that we share sends shivers down my spine. Her eyes are more electric than a hurricane.

I look away so hard I nearly strain a muscle in my neck.

~

I weave through the station. Swifters are trashing everything they don’t care for officers are desperately trying to organize each other and fights are on the verge of breaking out. I manage to steal a police branded backpack and shove a couple water bottles, medical supplies and a combat knife. I move past the cells, making my way downstairs to where they keep their rations. No guard, just as I suspected, so I slink down and shove a couple cans of synthetic canned beef and energy bars in as well. This should last me a few days if shit goes south. When it goes south. Just as I’m turning around I see her at the end of the stairs.

My heart skips a beat.

She nearly trips over herself.

Damnit universe, why do this?

I panic and a river of words tumble through my brain, but all that reaches my mouth is a singular, idiotic, simpleton syllable. “Hi.”

Rieka’s breathing quickly. Her eyes dart to the rations, to me and then to my backpack. Last time she saw me, she pulled a knife on me. She says nothing.

“What’re you… doing down here?” I ask, awkward as a long-legged duck.

“There was no food. I haven’t eaten in a while.”

“Oh. How come?” I speak slowly, racking my brain for ideas of what to do, but all it can concentrate on is how her hairs not tied in a ponytail, but flows past her shoulders like a waterfall. How soft it looks. How good it must smell…

“We haven’t got any,” she says softly. “We’re short… on everything…”

“You’re short on supplies and Zorikan decided to take on the greatest threat in West Side?”

Rieka shrugs and looks at the floor, her arms pressed close to her body.

A shrug could not possibly be so cute. No… no she’s lethal… she’s a weapon…

“It’s an assault… and a raid. If we take the building, we get all the supplies.”

“Do you know Qiara? Do you know how heavily armed that building is going to be?”

“We’re over a hundred together.”

“And it’s not going to matter. We’re attacking the high ground. If she’s got RPGs, which she likely does, most of us would be dead before we reach the building. It’s suicide, you know that, right?”

Rieka swallows, avoiding eye contact with me. “It’s not like we have a choice.”

I flash back to Zorikan, drunk and helpless in the derelict skyscraper with my knife pressed to his neck. The story he told me. The final explanation to why Rieka refuses to remove the chain that he has around her neck. “Yeah we do.”

Her brow furrows a moment and I can see her thinking. Her shoulders slump. “Why are you down here?”

“I was…”

She shakes her head. “You’re running away. Of course. No… of course you are. That’s what you do.”

“Rieka it’s suicide!” I protest. “Suicide, valiant or not, ends the same. You’re dead. None of the shit… all the shit of your past… none of that matters. Nothing you ever did matters if you’re dead, Rieka.”

She meets my eyes for a moment. I can feel a pulse of electricity, crackling down my spine. Why are her eyes so damn hypnotizing?

“And for what? So Zorikan can take out a rival? So you can get a few more supplies?”

“Did you forget the lives?” she strikes. “All the lives that Qiara’s taken? The innocent lives that she’s going to take? Do those not matter to you? Beneath all that scar and bone you must have a heart Kallix…”

I step towards her, my gaze searing. “Don’t you talk to me about having a heart.”

“Run away. It’s fine. I won’t tell the others and they won’t notice you gone,” she tells me.

I blink away tears, and step forwards again, taking both her hands. “Come with me. We can get away and forget about any of this. We don’t have to die yet. We’re young Rieka, it’s not fair… this isn’t right.”

She recoils like as if I’m made of acid. “You’re disgusting, Kallix.”

I move away form her. The blade made of words remains impaled in my chest. “I’m sorry,” is all I can mutter. Because that would do something. Because apologizing changes anything. I scrunch my eyes shut, bawling my hands up into fists and lose the fight against the knot in my throat. “Rieka I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything that happened. I’m sorry I’m such a dick and I know you don’t deserve any of this shit. This world… this world is just so fucked up and we’re caught up in the middle of it like… like branches in a hurricane. I’m trying Rieka, I swear… I’m trying to be better but I’m just so… scared… all the damn time. I don’t know what’s happening. It’s not like it used to be. It’s only cold.” I take a long, shaky breath.

I’m ready to embrace her. To hug her until we forget everything. To be innocent, fun loving, renegade teenagers again. I want to collapse into her. To tell her everything. To feel her soft hands through my hair and be safe again.

But when I open my eyes I’m alone in the room. I would’ve been unsure if she was ever there if it weren’t for her lingering scent… of flowers in the rain.