4: Dad is Dead 

“It’s about dad.” 

“Not going to the funeral.” 

“He’s alive.” 

“Huh.” 

“He’s been alive. You just convinced yourself that he was dead.” 

“He is dead.” 

“He will be soon, if we don’t help him.” 

“The man who raised us is dead.” 

“The man named Kastin Rane is alive, and he is hostage.” 

“Hostage? Who the fuck would capture his sorry ass.” 

“Zorikan did. Because he wants to get to you.” Kaloaan offers me a hand. 

I get up by myself. 

“If you run I will tase you.” 

“Who’s running?” 

His hand strokes his perfectly trimmed goatee, not a hair out of place. “We found out through a mole. They kidnapped Dad straight out of his apartment.” 

“Zorikan’s really getting desperate.” 

“He’s being held in one of their string of abandoned high rises by the West Gap sector. They move him regularly, so we don’t know where he is at any given moment. Storming the wrong building will be a massacre.”

“Why don’t you ask your mole.” 

“They don’t have a comm. Communicates once a week at most. They’d have their skull turned inside out if they did.” 

I had heard rumors of what Zorikan did to prisoners. Switching their teeth and their eyes and parading them in front of police stations and corporate centers. 

“Zorikan wants you for a specific job. It’s a raid on a yeast replacement factory.” 

“He sounds more like a wounded dog than a threat to your glorious institution.” 

“A wounded dog that will kill Dad if it realizes that he’s not as useful as he thought.” 

“Dad’s already dead.” 

Kaloaan sighs, and sits on the the hood of his car. “What’s your plan, Kallix? Run around and keep robbing people for drug money?” 

“I’ve never robbed anyone.” 

“I have your entire record here. Do you know how many string’s I’ve had to pull to avoid you getting a life sentence?” He presses his knuckle to his brow. “East Side Chief Adrikar is launching a corruption investigation against me. I’m going to have lawyers on my doorstep for the rest of the year.” 

“Sucks to suck. Maybe don’t shoot up a fucking concert hall when you want to find me next time.” 

“They were rubber bullets. This place is a cesspool of illegal substance use. I’m doing this street a favor.” 

“If I see Dad, I’m going to tell him to kill himself.” 

“That’s fine, I just need to know where he is.” He reaches into his uniform jacket and pulls out a small, plastic container. The sound of it’s contents rustling makes my fingers twitch before I even see it. He sets the medical container of pills on the hood of the car. “How long has it been?” 

My jaw grinds. My headache screams, twisting the left side of my head and neck. 

“Hold out your hand.” 

I obey him like a dog. 

He taps three pills into my hand. I’ve swallowed one before he’s even closed the lid. “That should keep you until the job is done.” 

Almost immediately the tension flutters away, swept up by the wind. My muscle’s feel warm. I can think now without the throbbing. 

He hands me a bottle of water to wash it down. “Kallix, listen. I’ll wipe your record. I’ll get you a health insurance plan and you’ll get a bottle of these every month. I can get you a place in one of the academies, I know you wont like the theoretical stuff but you would do great in a trade. Something you can use your skills with your hands.” 

“Yeah, jacking off is a great skill. Write that on my resume.” I spit on his shoes. “Tell me the details of this fucking Zorikan job.” 

He sighs. Someone buzzes in his com. “Yes, give me a minute,” he mutters back. “He’ll reach out to you soon. When he does, agree with whatever he wants. Go with him and find out where Dad is being held.”

“And if I can’t? He’s not just going to let me run away after seeing that.” 

“If anyone can run away from him, its you. Regardless, if you can’t that’s ok. I told you he wants you for that job at the bread factory. Go with him and give us a signal. It will be a trap, we’ll overwhelm him while he’s out of his turf and capture him at last. Once he’s incarcerated it wont take long for his street gang to fall apart and we’ll get Dad back.” 

“Right.” 

“Right?” 

“Right. Sounds good.” 

“Really?” 

“Yes.” 

Kaloaan flinches, his hand flying to his holster. “Did you hear that?” 

“Hear what?” 

He glances over his shoulder. He pull his handgun out, cocking it. “Get behind me.” 

“Bro, there’s nothing fucking there.” 

He’s still, gun aimed into the darkness. “Shh.” 

“Relax man, this isn’t the side of town you think it is,” I scoff. 

The first gunshot pierces the night, grazing my arm. 

Kaloaan flattens himself sideways against the car, stretching his arm and firing back. “Get under the car!” he shouts. 

A bullet glints off the hood, exploding the concrete of the alley wall. 

I dive down behind the car while he rolls in the other direction, taking cover behind a dumpster. He glances to the side to check on me as I crawl between the wheels. Then, he explodes up, turning and firing three shots, then drops back down. “Are you ok?” he asks. 

I grab the underbelly of his car, pulling myself further underneath. 

A bullet flies over the dumpster, narrowly missing his head. He pulls his comm from his chest. “Shots fired, need backup. Left alley eastward.” 

Blood’s pumping in my ringing ears. If I can get into a position to run, I can make a break for the back of the club and get out of here. I have to wait until my brother’s shooting and use that for cover. The back of my arm burns, blood starting to drip. 

The bullets fly, skittering over the dumpster while Kaloaan tries to lower himself out of shot. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. 

They stop. 

Kaloaan dives to the left, shooting two shots midair before rolling behind the hood of his car. 

There’s a cry in the distance. 

He reloads with one fluid motion. He peeks out, gun first. “I think I got them.” 

We wait a few moments. Silence. 

I squeeze out from under the car. “Motherfucker, who’s out here trying to kill you?” 

“Wait! Not yet!” Kaloaan shouts, just as the shot flies. He dives forward, shoving me to the side. 

The sound of bullet ripping through flesh is unmistakable. 

It’s not my flesh. 

My brother falls to the ground with a thud.

I’m diving to cover behind a dumpster as I am yanked back and slammed into the bumper. The butt of a rifle crashes into the back of my neck, crunching me between metal and metal. 

I can’t breathe. Kaloaan isn’t moving. 

“You die if you move.” says a voice like clear, deep water. “You die if you speak. You die if you flinch. Blink if you understand.” 

I blink. Blood drips into my eyes.