Heart of Smoke

Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Mari knelt beside me on the threadbare carpet, chewing her lips together as I poured the water from the jugs into five separate containers, like I hadn’t done the exact same thing hundreds of times before. I squinted in the dim light, pretending to make sure the portions were equal, but I think even little Mar had figured out I always skewed the bottles.

She and I got the same amount, never mind what the blue kep pamphlets said about my needing more water since I was ten years older and a good foot-and-a-half taller. Mom’s bottle got more than both of ours. The fourth bottle, the one for trade, got the most. The one bowl got just enough for us to wash with.

“It’s not a lot,” Mari said when I’d emptied all the water we’d managed to snag before the kep shut down the tanks.

“Take some from the stash if your head starts to hurt.”

She nodded, but I knew she wouldn’t dig under the floorboards in the closet, no matter how thirsty she got. She never touched the bits of water I’d managed to squirrel away in case.

In case they shut the tanks down. In case the smoke shut the city down. In case they closed the factory and I needed time to find a new way to earn my ration. In case there was another riot and we had to hide in our dingy apartment until the glass guards were done killing people. In case a hundred other horrible things happened.

I hated in case.

“Can you still help?” Mari held out her hands.

“Sure.” I kissed the top of her head and left the front room of our apartment to dig under the floorboards in the bedroom.

The bedroom was tiny, with barely enough space for me to walk between Mom’s bed and the one I shared with Mari. I’d had to wall off half the room the year before to hide my project. That was after I’d made the cubbies under the floorboards.

I’d spent a lot of time making places to stash bits of what we had in case someone found out the Sampsons had treasures worth stealing. The truth of our privilege weighed heavy in my stomach.

You are lucky. You are lucky.

I repeated the phrase in my head as I popped up the floorboard in the corner and pulled out the case of medical supplies. A gift Mom had come home with, and a wonder she always managed to keep stocked. I hated the weight of the case in my hands even though I knew it was a prize most would kill to have.

The bandages, salves, vials, pills, and I-Vents had all been gifts from Mom’s friends. The same way the extra water rations that made our stash possible came from Mom’s friends. Like the power packs and computer tablet had come from Mom’s friends. Like Mari and I had come from Mom’s friends.

I sat with Mari on the floor of the front room, picking the tiny metal shards from her fingers. She hummed to herself, trying not to flinch when I knew full well I must be hurting her.

I gritted my teeth when the tune became louder as I dabbed on the disinfectant. Gripping her wrists, I waved her hands through the air to dry the stinging gel.

Mari giggled.

I loved the sound of her laugh, especially when it was real.

“Are you going out tonight?” she asked as I passed her an I-Vent.

“I have to.” I held the silver tube of my own I-Vent to my lips and took a deep breath, not flinching at the horrible metallic taste as the medicine flowed into my lungs, wiping away whatever pollutants my bandana hadn’t been able to keep me from inhaling.

“You don’t really have to.” Mari sipped her water, trying to wash the taste from her mouth. “We have water and dinner.”

“I seem to remember promising someone peaches.” I tucked her hair behind her ears and went back to the bedroom to hide the med kit under the floor.

“I don’t need peaches.” Mari scampered behind me. “I want you to stay here.”

I didn’t bother answering, even as Mari gripped my arm while I headed back to the front room.

The computer tablet hid behind the half-broken couch, plugged into the tiny solar charger on the windowsill that somehow managed to function with the slim bits of sunlight that broke through the smoke shrouding the city.

I pulled the tablet out and tapped the screen, checking for messages.

Not that we’d ever received a message. But there was a little tab where one might pop up, and I couldn’t stop myself from checking. Just like I couldn’t stop myself from scanning through the channels on the old radio Mom had brought home. I knew it was useless, but a stupid part of me still hoped someone would reach out and tell me there was a way to escape this piece of s**t city and a place where I could keep Mari safe.

But life didn’t work that way. And if I wanted to keep Mari safe, I needed to keep her fed.

“Do your schoolwork.” I held out the tablet.

“I already did school today at the factory.” She frowned. “I want to come with you.”

“Mom wants us both to do the school programs on the tablet. Do you want to tell her you decided not to do your work?”

“You do yours first.”

“I’ll do it when I get back with peaches.” I set the tablet down on the couch, grabbed my portion of water, and went to the bedroom, closing the door behind me.

The water tasted like grit, but I took slow sips anyway, careful to hold a bit in my mouth each time.

I sat on Mom’s bed to let the syringes fall from the back of my shirt. I needed to change. Clean shirt, clean pants, the pair of boots that were a bit too big so I could hide the syringes around my ankles without it being obvious to any guards who cared to look.

I borrowed my mother’s comb even though I hated brushing my hair and pretending I was proud of how thick and healthy I’d managed to keep it. Leaving it down would make getting through some doors easier. It would make the wig men follow me, too, but there wasn’t a way around it.

I tucked my knife into the waist of my pants and pulled on the only non-sunsafe coat we owned. All I had to do was toss the water for trade into my bag and I’d be ready to go back out into the smoke-filled city.

Still, I stood in the bedroom, my mind coming up with reasons I shouldn’t go just as quickly as it screamed I was wasting time.

“Don’t be a coward, Lanni.” I grabbed my bandana and went back to the front room.

Mari had curled up on the couch, her gaze fixed on the tablet as a female voice explained geometry.

“Lock the door behind me.” I started the process of undoing the five different bolts that kept us safe after the sun went down.

“What if Mom gets home before you?” Mari paused her lesson.

“Tell her Jaime needed me and I’m staying there.” I tied my bandana around my face.

“And when she doesn’t believe me?”

“Lock the door, Mar.”

“You really could stay here.”

“Love you, Mar.” I stepped out into the dim hallway and closed the door behind me.

I stayed frozen for a moment, listening while each of the locks clicked into place before heading down the corridor.

The familiar stench of smoke-coated mildew filled the hall. Someone was cooking meat for dinner, and that scent joined in, too. Voices drifted from the other apartments, and Mr. Layhie was singing again.

I checked the knife in my waistband before heading down the hall.

A kid slept across the stairs, but I didn’t see anyone else as I crept down the steps and to the outside door.

I didn’t pause to listen before pushing the door open and heading out onto the street. Letting anyone see my fear was a mistake I couldn’t afford to make.

Being afraid of the smoke that still hung over the city was smart. So was being afraid of the men and women who lurked in the shadows, ready to steal everything from your clothes to your blood if it suited their mood. Being afraid of the kep guards was necessary if you wanted to survive.

But letting any of the monsters who lurked in the city after sunset know you were afraid? Not many regular human girls survived that kind of mistake.

I strode down the street, my hand draped over my bag giving the only hint that I was smart enough to know there were pickpockets lurking everywhere.

The men lounging around the half-dead trees at the center of Five Points Crossing had seen me come and go enough times their catcalling was more of a nightly custom than an actual attempt to get my attention.

“The pretty girl comes to grace us again,” one of the men shouted down from his perch high up in a tree.

“Uncover your face and give us a look.” A man sitting on the sidewalk joined in.

I gave them a wave and a flip of my hair, pretending I was in on the joke rather than risking them guessing how my skin crawled beneath their gazes.

I wished I could be upstairs in the apartment, listening to Mari whine about having to do her lessons, instead of hearing the kissing sounds the drunkest of the men made. I’d even have settled for an empty path to walk, free of leering city scum. I wasn’t that lucky.

There were no good roads leading out of Five Points, but there were choices. I could head toward the factories, the chem shops, the lux district, the barrens, or the dark corridor. It was almost cruel how easy they made it look, giving me the illusion of freedom when really I had none.

I had to walk toward the dark corridor, even though venturing into those shadows was my second-to-last choice. The only thing worse than facing the night crowd would be walking up to the glass domes beyond the barrens and begging for favors.

But the dark corridor had peaches for Mari. The dark corridor had people who could transfer credits. The dark corridor had someone who could buy the syringes hidden in my boots before the kep caught me with my pilfered stash, fired me from my job at the factory, and cancelled my ration. Or worse.

I always forgot to appreciate the streetlamps near Five Points, no matter how many times I walked down Salvation Street and my heart skittered in my chest as the lights gradually dimmed.

I knew damn well the night crowd had painted the glass of the streetlamps to dull the light, just like I knew the fear creeping up my spine was well-founded. There really were people hiding in the shadows, waiting for a frightened-looking girl to feast on. But a girl like me, one who walked with purpose, she might be on her way to see someone important. Someone who could tell the Maker one of her creations had stepped out of line.

Feast on the wrong nightwalker’s claimed human, you could end up burning in the sun come dawn.

I understood the dangers of the monsters that thrived in the shadows of the city. I hoped Mari would never need to learn the lessons that had kept me alive.

The thumping of music carried through the night long before I reached the warren of alleys that led to the Misery Drain.

Ten kep patrolled the streets, guns on hips, clubs in hand, watching the people filtering in and out of the shadows. The glass guards couldn’t stay in the city to give water to the dying, but standing in the haze of smoke to keep the night crowd in check―that was worth the risk of contaminating their precious lungs.

“Face,” one of the kep said.

I kept walking straight for the alley.

“Show us your face.” A guard stepped right in front of me.

I looked up at the kep. He wasn’t much older than me, maybe eighteen, not old enough to be giving orders on a dark street at any rate. He had emerald-green eyes and pale blond hair.

I wanted to pick up a fistful of ash and rub it into his clean hair, but I planted my hands on my hips instead, not letting myself give in to the deadly temptation.

“Why?” I didn’t loosen my bandana.

“Face coverings aren’t allowed in the Misery Drain,” the kep said.

“I’m not going there.” I moved to step around him.

“All faces must be uncovered before entering this section of the city,” the kep said. “We need to know what sort are coming and going.”

“Have the glass guards really gotten that”―I swallowed the word stupid―“paranoid? Look at my eyes. I’m clearly a regular human.”

The boy stared into my eyes for a moment. I let him study their light blue that seemed so ill-fitted to the rest of my darker coloring.

“You have beautiful eyes.” The kep gave me a nod.

“Thanks.” I tried again to step around him.

“Face covering off.” He held out an arm, blocking my path with his club.

I untied the knot at the back of my bandana and tucked the fabric into my pocket. My first breath of smoke-laden air burned the back of my throat. My chest shuddered as I fought my instinct to cough.

“That wasn’t so hard.” The kep bowed me past.

“Thanks for protecting the dark corridor from dangerous city scum like me.” I bowed back to him and strode down the alley, not letting myself wonder if the kep’s laughter would be followed by a shot to my back.