Asimov's Science Fiction: April/May 2014 (29 page)

The problem was, there were a lot more refugees now. Before Richmond fell, refugees had poured into the city as the starfish seized more and more of the outlying areas, and Kai and his family had done what they could to help them, like they were supposed to. Kai had shared his clothes with the refugees who were his age, brought them along to hang out with him and his friends. He could still remember how proud his mom was, how she smiled whenever he did something nice for one of the scared, shrunken kids who came down the road pulling a suitcase. Now that Kai was a refugee, there were just too many for that sort of kindness. Washington was packed with refugees.

It was so hard, getting used to each thing that was taken away. First, communication, when the Luyten took their satellites out. No way to speak to Grandma, or to Pauly, who'd been his best friend until last year. No way to pop into school via screen, when schools were still open. Then, as the Luyten choked off the routes between cities, no toothpaste, no food that arrived at the table ready to eat. Then the Luyten gained control of most of the solar and wind farms, the fusion and nuclear plants, and there wasn't enough power to run the house AI, or Kabuki, his personal AI.

Now he had no warm bed, no food to eat at all.

He was heading away from the makeshift shanty camp where he'd stayed the past three nights. The camp was too far to reach in the cold and dark; he'd walked too far, trying to find a store where a clerk might be less vigilant of theft than the ones nearer the camp.

His toes were already numb, his shoes soaked from puddles he couldn't see.

He wished he had someone with him. Anyone. If he could pick one person who was still alive, it wouldn't be one of the cool friends he'd started hanging out with in the last year, it would be Pauly, who he'd known forever. Scrawny, goofy Pauly, who Kai had pretty much dropped, for no good reason. Mom had been disappointed in Kai when he ditched Pauly. She'd told him you don't throw away friends.

What he wouldn't give to have Pauly walking beside him right now. Kai wondered where he was right now, what he was doing.

There was an old brick and concrete building ahead, three separate dark, open bays of what must have once been an auto body shop, or a fire department. The building must have been a hundred years old. It had been a long time since things were built out of brick.

The first bay was nothing but a concrete floor, providing shelter from the rain, but little relief from the cold, gusty wind. There was a door sitting slightly ajar, up three concrete steps along the wall. Even if it was a tiny toilet room, it would be warmer, at least.

The door squealed when Kai nudged it open. The room stank of cigarettes. A woman was curled up in one corner of what had once been an office. She was partially covered by a corner of the wall-to-wall carpet, which she'd peeled up from the floor. In the faint light, Kai took in her swollen face, matted hair, her bulging, empty eyes, wide open and unblinking. He swung the door closed with a cry of disgust.

Skin prickling, he scurried down the steps and out of the bay, back into the biting rain.

There were two more bays. Kai didn't like the thought of being so close to a dead body, but he was shivering uncontrollably from the cold. He couldn't keep going. What were the odds he'd find another abandoned building?

There was a door in the second bay, but it led to a bathroom, not an office. The third and final bay had no inner doors at all, so Kai returned to the second, gathered up what scraps of paper he could find, along with a small cardboard box, and returned to the bathroom.

The room smelled dank, with an undertone of dried urine. Still shivering, Kai pulled a half-used roll of toilet paper off the dispenser and used it to dab his wet clothes. It wasn't much help.

The room was too small for Kai to stretch out, so he curled his legs in, used a wadded-up juice carton as a pillow, piled the trash over his legs as best he could. It still felt strange to fall asleep gradually, rather than having sleep induced by his AI.

He missed Kabuki almost as much as he missed Pauly, though not nearly as much as he missed his mom. He knew Kabuki wasn't real, was nothing but a bunch of chips designed to say pleasant things and follow directions, but he'd been a part of Kai's life for as long as he could remember.

Kai was freezing. He couldn't stop shaking; his hissing breath echoed off the half-tiled walls.

An image flashed, of the woman in the next bay. She must have frozen to death, maybe last night. And she had a carpet.

There was a draft whistling through the space where Kai had left the door open a crack. It would be warmer if he closed it, but he would lose the sliver of grey light. He didn't want to be in the pitch dark.

He couldn't understand how this was happening. A week ago he'd been in his warm bed in Richmond; his mother had tucked him in, told him not to worry about Dad, who was with his brigade less than forty miles away between Richmond and the Luyten surge. A day later he was on a bus roaring down I–95 packed with kids and old people.

There was no point in crying, but he couldn't help it. The sound of his own crying made him feel worse. What was he going to do? Why wouldn't anyone tell him what to do, where to go?

Did you smell?

Kai cried out, jolted upright. He hadn't thought the words, they'd just come, raking through his head like steel fingernails on glass.

She's smoke. Lighter.

Kai clamped his palms over his ears. His soaked pants were suddenly warm; he was vaguely aware he'd wet himself.

Build fire.

It felt like there was something crawling around in his head. Kai sat frozen, trembling, praying it wouldn't happen again.

Or you die.

Kai howled in terror. He didn't understand what was happening to him.

Happening to you. Kai. Freezing.

His teeth were chattering; his whole body was shaking from the cold, from fear. The voice went on, about the cold, about Kai dying, about fire. There was enough trash around to burn, but he had nothing to start a fire.

She's smoker. Lighter.

A lighter was what he needed.

You dead this morning. Do you Kai?

The voice had asked him something. Kai was afraid if he didn't answer, the voice might get angry, might do something to him. Drive him crazy, pull him down into whatever dark, awful place it came from. Something about the voice was so terribly wrong, so profoundly
off.
It was as if the words were jagged, scraping the inside of his head.

You do?

"No, I don't want to be dead," Kai said aloud, the volume of his own voice in the tight space making him flinch.

The voice had asked him something. Kai was afraid if he didn't answer, the voice might get angry, might do something to him. Drive him crazy, pull him down into whatever dark, awful place it came from. Something about the voice was so terribly wrong, so profoundly
off.
It was as if the words were jagged, scraping the inside of his head.

You do?

"No, I don't want to be dead," Kai said aloud, the volume of his own voice in the tight space making him flinch.

She smoked. Lighter.

Maybe he was already crazy. This was just what it was like, wasn't it? Voices in your head?

Lighter. Her pocket.

Kai jolted. Her pocket. Suddenly he understood what the voice was saying. She smoked. The dead woman smoked. He'd smelled smoke in there, hadn't he? The voice was telling him there was a lighter in her pocket.

Yes.

He didn't want to go back in that room. She was dead; her eyes were bulging—
Or you die. Go.

Kai shoved the door open, peered into the bay, half-expecting to see something crouching there, waiting for him, but there was nothing but concrete, shadows, the howling wind.

Hunched against the wind, Kai marched into the next bay, his heart in his throat. He climbed the steps, put his hand on the knob, twisted it partway.

Maybe the voice lived in the bathroom. Maybe if he didn't go back it couldn't get him, couldn't talk to him—

Wrong. Go on.

Kai gripped the handle tighter. It was ice cold. He twisted it, pushed the door open a foot.

There she was. He pushed the door open further, took a step into the room. She was old, maybe sixty, Hispanic or maybe Indian. The tip of her tongue was jutting from between her blue lips.

He didn't want to do this; he'd rather freeze to death than stick his fingers in her pocket and feel her body. Would it be squishy or stiff?

The voice was silent, but he knew if he waited it would speak to him again, would tell him to get the lighter. It might even yell at him. That would be awful. He had to do it. Quickly—as quick as he could. Kai's breath was coming in rattling gasps. He took a deep breath and held it, stood paralyzed for a moment.

Do it.

The voice was like a shove at his back. Kai scurried to the body, squatted.

Other one,
the voice said before Kai even had time to lift his left hand. He reached with his right, slipped two fingers into her pocket.

Her hip felt stiff through the denim of her jeans. It didn't feel as bad as he'd feared, but it was still bad. He felt the pointed tip of the lighter, but couldn't reach it.

Pull her flat.

That would mean touching her, really touching her. Kai so desperately didn't want to do that.

Whimpering, he scooted back, grasped her feet by her tattered shoes, squeezed his eyes closed. As soon as he pulled, the shoes slipped off. His belly roiling with disgust, he half-flung, half-dropped them, then grasped her spongy, swollen ankles and
pulled.

The body slid forward inch by inch, then suddenly her head lolled to the left and she dropped, hard, to the floor. Not thinking, just wanting to get it over with, Kai shoved his hand into her pocket, closed his fingers around the long, thin lighter.

A moment later he was in the bay, running.

Trash for fire.

The voice was right—this bay had much more trash than the others. Kai ran around picking up as much as he could carry before returning to the second bay.

Moments later, he had a small fire burning. The heat felt marvelous on his fingers, his cheeks, his nose. The orange light pushed back the shadows and the darkness, made a place that was
his
in a way he couldn't put into words.

Better. Yes. Collect more trash.

Kai did as he was told, checking the last bay and returning with another armful of trash, set it in a pile near the fire.

Now sleep. I'll watch you for danger.

The voice was horrible, but the words were reassuring, and they were growing clearer, less grating. Kai lay down, closed his eyes. He was so tired.

It would watch over him. How would it watch? Where were its eyes, Kai wondered?

He was drifting off, his front side warm, his back and feet still stiff with damp cold. The voice would watch over him.

Kai jolted upright, suddenly knowing whose voice it was.

I won't hurt you.

They knew what you were thinking. But Kai had never heard of one
speaking
to someone. Never. Not on the news, not from anyone.

We can if we want.

It heard everything he thought. There was no way for Kai to stop thinking, no shelter from it. It was in his head. They could read your mind until you were a few miles away. Kai pressed one hand to the cold ground. He had to—

If you run, I will hurt you.

Kai froze, a trickle of dread running through him.

"Where are you?" he whispered.

Close.

Kai sat utterly frozen, afraid to move, afraid to breathe.

Sleep

Kai pried the flagstone loose from the walk that meandered through the church's walled garden. The small, square key was underneath, just as the Luyten said it would be. He plucked it from its hiding spot, headed for the back door of the church.

Not there. Back the other way. Walk along the wall.

Kai did as he was told, his mouth watering with anticipation despite the wild guilt he felt. A
church.

There was a small graveyard set inside a low, ornamental fence. Ivy covered the fence and crawled along the ground.

There. Behind the statue.

Behind a mold-stricken statue of an angel with spread wings was a raised concrete circle with a steel cover. Looking around first, though it was probably unnecessary, Kai approached the cover, inserted the key into the hole, and pulled the hatch open.

The cover lifted fairly easily, revealing a dark hole, a ladder leading down. Kai climbed to the bottom, a dozen or so feet below the ground. He was surrounded by shelves of food—dried, packaged meals, like the ones soldiers ate.

Whose are these? he thought. It was confusing, to speak to it without speaking. There was no line dividing what he wanted to say and what he just wanted to think.

The pastor. Speak out loud if you prefer, but quietly.

"Why is this food down here?" Kai whispered, relieved.

Because he doesn't want to share it. Take six.

Hands shaking with anticipation, Kai grabbed the meals, struggled up the ladder one-handed, headed for the gate.

Not yet. Go toward the church.

"I don't want to get caught," Kai whispered.

I know where everyone is. Go.

Kai went. The voice directed him along the back of the church, to a dirt-and leaf-covered black steel grate in the ground along the back wall.

Open the grate. Drop four down.

Drop them. Why on Earth would he do that?

Realization swept over him with an icy chill. It was down there. Hiding. Probably hurt.

I'm in trouble, just like you. I'm alone and afraid, just like you.

As Kai knocked on the door, he told himself he had no choice but to do what the Luyten told him. It hadn't made any threats, but it was huge, and powerful, and he was just a kid.