Ch 2.
It was another lazy afternoon in lovely downtown New York City, and New York’s preeminent Feeder was lazing around on her couch once again.
Elsbeth's eyes flitted across the screen, the glow of the teevee casting stark shadows on her defined features. The movie playing,"Crank", was a manic mess of impossibilities and inhuman chaos, perfect for lulling her into mindless relaxation. It required no thought or investigation, it barely demanded investment in its characters, it was just fun! Just what she needed after Feeding all week.
A sharp ding cut through her sloth, and she reached for her TDC tablet almost reflexively.
"Another contract," she muttered under her breath, scanning the digital notification. "Already?"
She’d just come off of another hunt out on the Poospatuck Reservation on Long Island. The Unkechaugi were being plagued by a massive flock of Seagull Mutates, so Elz and Trey had bid for the contract to clear them out. They’d taken three days to clear out the flock and waited another two days before the bodies were collected, before they could head back into The City.
The Creaux knew that she required at least two days of peace and quiet before going back out to hunt again. It was a non-negotiable term of their working relationship. Not because she wanted to rest, but because she wanted her daughter to experience and prioritize downtime and socialization.
That’s what made this new contract offer so weird. The Creaux knew better.
Her fingertips paused in mid swipe, hovering over the screen as she noticed the compensation offered. Okay!! Maybe the timing wasn't the only thing weird about this offer.
It was lucrative, disarmingly so— almost twice her regular fees and a definite push in the right direction for someone who was trying to get out of Manhattan.
Elz mulled it over for a moment. It pushed all the right buttons, but… they would have to leave immediately, and it was a hunt in the UK. Once upon a time, that would not have been a problem but now?! Now she had Trey.
Elz sighed, feeling the weight of responsibility knot in her gut. Although out in the world they operated as partners, Elz was very conscious that Trey was still just a kid and she wanted her to have as much of a childhood as possible. Trey was a great Feeder, but that stemmed from Elz’s determination that she would be able to protect herself. In this world where human lives were no longer held above all the other life on earth, the only things truly keeping them safe were the treaties and their Servers. They were back smack dab in the middle of the food chain and although the other inhabitants of their building wanted to pretend that wasn't true, Elz made sure her daughter was aware of the reality.
So Trey was a fighter and a feeder, but still a child. If Elsbeth could have her way, she would never have put a weapon in her daughter’s hands, but that bridge had long been crossed. All she could do now was ensure that Trey did not feel any responsibility for their livelihood or their safety, except for doing her part during each individual hunt. Elz kept her out of all the other aspects of the job, and encouraged her to be her most childish self in public. Determined that regardless of her skill and standings on the record, all that people contacts would see when they looked at Trey was a playful little girl—someone to be protected, not one to seek protection from.
Which was why this UK job was a problem. If something happened to Elz while they were working here in New York, Trey knew how to get home on her own, where to hide and which of any number of Elsbeth's contacts would look out for her. If something went wrong in England, Trey would be alone in a location they were unfamiliar with, in a country where they had no contacts or friends.
"No support," Elsbeth whispered to herself. "Can’t risk it." With a decisive swipe, she rejected the offer, setting the tablet aside.
The peace that followed was short-lived; before she could fully engage with the movie again, another notification pierced the silence. The Creaux Council had doubled their offer.
Elsbeth’s resolve wavered, the numbers on the screen flashing like a beacon.
The new offer could change everything. It was large enough that she could stop feeding for a while and just focus on Trey growing up in a safe and healthy space. Still, the larger payment didn't resolve her initial concerns. There was almost no one in the little community of people living in their high-rise with whom she could entrust Trey, and even if there was, Trey would absolutely resist being left behind.
"Damn it," she hissed. In one fluid motion, she was on her feet, excitement and aggravation warring for prominence.
Elsbeth’s thoughts turned to only person who might be able to help— The Old Man on the rooftop. She wasn't sure about him watching Trey, but she knew he would be good for some advice. He’d been a part of their lives forever, and at times he seemed to be the only person who Elsbeth felt truly understood how much the world had changed.
Elz vaulted up the stairs two at a time, towards the rooftop sanctuary. Bursting through the door, she was greeted by the lush greenery of The Old Man's domain. The rooftop farm was a maze of raised planter boxes and miniature greenhouses. A patchwork of flora; rows of leafy greens, hearty root vegetables, and bright berries lay neatly organized, a testament to its keeper's dedication to fostering order amidst chaos. Even though they were high above the city streets, the air here was rich with the scent of earth and the promise of growth.
Trey was exactly where Elsbeth expected to find her, kneeling among the raised beds, her slender hands buried in the loam. She looked up, her eyes catching the sunlight, shining like smoky brown quartz. The sight always steadied Elsbeth; her daughter, her reason for surviving. Trey's very existence—bright eyes, mischievous grin, that defiant set to her jaw when she wanted to have her way— every bit of her personality, stubborn and resilient, bolstered Elsbeth’s mood.
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"Mommy?" Trey called a question in her voice. She was ever alert to the tension in Elsbeth's posture.
"Big decisions, baby," Elsbeth replied, her voice steady despite the conflict within. She scanned the rooftop, looking for Man Xiong. He was lost among the rows as usual, a general inspecting his troops—each plant a silent soldier in their continued fight for their precarious existence.
Elsbeth’s gaze caught and lingered on his prized cherry tomato plant, flourishing in its isolation. Growing in a pot instead of one of the raised beds, it stood out, an outlier among all the other food plants—much like its owner amidst the other residents of their fractured world. Still, The Old Man never let it far from his sight so he couldn’t be too far away.
Elz's shadow stretched long across the rooftop, a silent announcement of her arrival. The Old Man was hunched over a strawberry bush, its red fruit vibrant against the green leaves. His head, smooth and shiny as if polished by time itself, lifted at the sound of Elz's approach. His dark eyes, heavy with experience and secret, met hers with an unspoken question.
"I have a conundrum. I need to talk it out," she said, her voice urgent but low so as not to tip Trey off. Trey would be determined to go; Elz didn't want her knowing about the trip until decisions had been made.
The Old Man straightened up, the lines on his face telling stories of countless seasons. He wore the years like armor, his body wiry yet strong, movements deliberate and full of intent.
"Walk with me," he gestured towards the far edge of the roof, where the scent of herbs blended with the bite of the wind.
"Just got a new contract from the Creaux Council," Elz began, her voice low as they paced along the perimeter of the raised beds. "Culling a flock in the UK somewhere."
"Risky?" he asked, his hand brushing a basil leaf, leaving the faintest tremor in its wake. Elsbeth was very open with her daughter, so he knew if she was keeping it a secret there had to be a reason.
"Not really, other than being outside of our regular haunts. They're offering twice my usual rate." She paused, then corrected, "No, they quadrupled it, after I declined."
He hummed thoughtfully, an almost growling sound that seemed to resonate with the plant under his hand. "You’re worried about Trey?"
"That’s the hitch," she admitted, her gaze flicking back to where her daughter remained oblivious, weeding rows of carrots.
"She's as good as you, she’ll be fine." His assertion sliced through her hesitation, but her fear pushed back.
"Across the ocean? It's mad, isn't’ it? There's no backup, no safety net." Her brow furrowed, betraying a mother's worry amid the steel resolve. “The people there are spread out more, city populations are lower and the mutates aren’t hunted or culled as much as they are here. Its way more risky.”
“Are you trying to find a reason to stay or go?”
“I want to go, but I need it to make sense. I need her to be safe.” Elsbeth’s voice rose a little in frustration.
"She’s always safe with you. But if you are worried, then take me too." He responded without hesitation, the suggestion hanging between them like a lifeline..
Elsbeth lost whatever argument she’d been lining up in response. "You'd come? But your farm..."
"Trey isn't the only one who I've taught to take care of the farm. Plus with me gone, its free food for them. When they get hungry, they’ll tend it," he said, his gruff voice was firm. "If not, it will grow wild, but the roots shall remain. Seeds will wait. So will I."
"Thank you," she breathed, the weight of parenthood lifting just enough to let hope seep in.
“When will we leave?” he asked looking around at all the plants still in need of harvesting.
“As soon as we’re ready. The Creaux will secure all the arrangements.”
"Then we should get a move on. Tell the kid." He nodded towards Trey, who had now moved on to plucking berries with practiced ease.
Elz approached her daughter, her heart hammering a staccato against her ribs. "Trey, we're taking a trip," she said, each word tinged with the potential inherent in her decision.
"Another contract?" Trey's face lit up with excitement.
"Something like that," Elz replied, a smile ghosting her lips. "Grandpa will be coming too."
Trey’s eyes widened with surprise and delight at the news as she looked over to the Old Man. He gave her a solemn nod, a rare smile quirking the corners of his weathered lips. In that moment, the rooftop seemed to shrink, and the weight of the world lifted from Trey's shoulders.
"Grandpa's coming too?" Trey's voice was filled with wonder, her gaze darting between Elz and the Old Man as if searching for confirmation. Trey had always had a special bond with Man Xiong, and even though he had been the one to teach her to fight, she was, in her childlike way, very protective of him. Knowing he would be accompanying them on this journey made her heart soar.
"But Grandpa isn't a Feeder."
The old man chuckled softly at Trey's reaction, his eyes crinkling at the corners with a warmth that belied his stoic exterior.
"Yeah, Shortstuff. This old dog may love laying in the sun, but he still has some bite left in him," he said with a twinkle in his eye. "Still, I'll leave the Feeding up to you two."
“An adventure, then!” Trey said gleefully.
The Old Man’s weathered face softened into a rare smile, a glint of mischief dancing in his dark eyes. "An adventure! So now we have to get this food prepped for travel."The Old Man beckoned Trey over, assigning her tasks with the efficiency of a general. Together, they began to harvest the ripened foods and pack seeds and medicinal herbs into pouches.
"Go, accept their terms," the Old Man urged Elz, his hands steady as they worked. "We'll be ready."
Elz turned away. She felt lighter than she did coming up the stairs, but the trepidation had not completely dissipated. Each step back to her condo was a march towards an uncertain future. The job itself held minimal danger—nothing they hadn’t handled before. The lack of familiarity with the location was the only wildcard. But still, with the completion of the contract came the promise of true freedom, and it was that promise and the peril that came with it, that echoed in the hollows of her mind.