Juniper

I tried to get up once again, a desperate attempt, and tumbled down into my seat. Why now, of all times?

I looked to my left and right. The woman from earlier had disappeared, but the elderly man remained, still clutching his briefcase. He caught me looking and sent me a small smile. 

What was I supposed to do? I was chained, tired, and likely freshly unemployed. And okay, I had to admit it was a stupid idea to begin with, chasing after some high-ranking corporate employee for a apple. 

“The doors are now closing,” the voice from above announced again. “Please step away from the exits.” 

The silver doors began to close, sealing my fate. With a loud squeak, their metallic wings moved closer and closer together, the light from the station outside growing dimmer and dimmer. 

That was until I spotted the hand.

What the actual fuck.  

Someone had stuck their hand between the closing doors and was attempting to push them apart. The old man next to me gasped, whispering a prayer to some deity, his eyes wide. The man across from me took out his corpcell and started recording. 

It wasn’t the wildest thing I had ever seen while on Gamma-8, but it was up there. What were they thinking? There were literal sticker warnings all around the monorail doors saying don’t even come close to them, nevertheless a hand in the door.  

I looked down at the handcuffs and let out a laugh. I may be stuck here, but at least I still had a hand. 

Just before the doors closed, I heard the sound of crushing metal.

“W-warning,” the speaker crackled. “We have detected an anomaly. Please sit tight as we attend to this issue. As always, we value your s-safety above all, dear passengers.”

I glanced up. 

The hand was pushing back the door, purple-painted nails gripping it with enough pressure to turn the already pale hand stark white. But it was almost like the owner of the mysterious hand was being somewhat careful, cautiously pushing the door back, avoiding any external damage to the door. 

The doors slowly parted to reveal the woman from earlier, her hair shining blue from the fluorescent lights. Her face glowed from the light inside the train, lighting up the focused frown painted across her face. 

Across from me, I heard an object clatter to the ground. I looked over to spot a cracked corpcell just a few feet away from the man who was recording earlier. He looked on in awe, completely dumbfounded.  

Scratch that, this was the wildest thing I had witnessed while on Gamma-8. 

The woman outside let go of the doors and quickly slipped through as they closed yet again, spinning in a quick turn to face the music.  

“What were you thinking?” 

“How did you get that strong?”

 “Who raised you?”

The man next to me gave her a wave, saying, “I hadn’t seen something that exciting in decades, my dear. I hope your hand is okay.” 

She just let out a little laugh and flashed a peace sign, giving a small thumbs up to my neighbor. He grinned back at her. 

The mysterious woman returned to her seat beside me and shot me a small grin as well. I looked at her in bewilderment. 

“Is your hand… okay?” I asked. 

This was awkward. I shifted in my seat, suddenly uncomfortable.   

“It’s fine,” she laughed. “Worth it.” 

“Wha-“ I started. 

She cut me off with a silent finger to her mouth and reached into her coat, pulling out an object wrapped in a black silk handkerchief and handing it to me. 

“Don’t freak out,” she smiled. 

I unwrapped the silk package, my face splitting into a grin as soon as I saw the telltale flash of red. 

An apple. She had gone back for an apple, an apple just for me. 

I was dumbfounded.

“How did you know?” I asked. 

“I saw you eyeing it the entire train ride, girl,” she chuckled. “You think I wouldn’t notice? He didn’t need all of them.” 

She raised one of her well-manicured hands and started twirling the ends of her silky hair between her fingers subconsciously, gazing off into the distance. 

“I-uh-how can I ever thank you?” I replied, desperate. 

“Don’t,” she replied. “It’s okay. It was kind of fun," she paused, as if she was hoping what she was planning to say next wouldn't make things weird. "And worth it to make you smile.”

I flushed red, averting my eyes and returning my gaze to the window in front of us, running a hand through my ragged hair. The monorail was getting faster and faster, racing towards the outer quarters and away from the dregs of society.  

“I don’t think I caught your name,” I asked.

“Oh! My name is Elia. What’s yours?”

“Juniper. I’m so sorry, I feel like I have to repay you in some way. Let me take you out for coffee or something. Or drinks if that’s what you would prefer?” 

Yes, I was absolutely shooting my shot. What? She was pretty and she risked her life for me. What more did a girl need?

And okay, I had to admit, I hadn’t really talked to anyone since I left Xylia except my boss. Too busy with the whole trying-to-fit-in thing. I was a little rusty.

“No, it’s fine,” Elia smiled. 

Ouch.

“Seriously. This means the world to me. Are you sure there isn’t anything I could do?” 

Nice. I sounded desperate. 

“No worries. You’ll be coming with me back to the station later anyways.”

What? 

I shot her a confused glance. She pointed down at my leg. My handcuffed leg. 

“What do you mean?” I exclaimed.

What crime had I committed on Gamma-8 to warrant being handcuffed on public transportation? I swear, I had been cautious, always being polite with customers at the café as if I was following a script. I never once stepped out of my set paths, paths I had scouted time and time again for operatives and hidden cameras. Not until today. 

“I’m sorry, girl,” Elia sighed. “The Xylish embassy wants you arrested and deported back to Xylia.”

I felt my body going into panic mode before my brain had registered the message. My heart rate spiked, my stomach churning at an alarming pace. How did they find me so soon? 

“Please. I can’t go back! I-”

“Shh,” she held a finger up to my lips. “You’ll be fine. We’ll discuss your options once we get off the train. I’m not going to just hand you over to them.”

I looked up at her, hopeful that she was telling the truth.

These last few months had been the only freedom I had ever known. I wasn’t ready to go back. 

“You mean it?” I asked. 

“I do.”