Victor:
It was dark again. The evening shadows had stretched and stretched until they swallowed everything, me included. I lay on my bed listening to the whir of the bullet trains outside and watched the neon splashes of light that flickered on my ceiling.
The huge cryo tank that sat across the room hummed and buzzed at irregular intervals, but I was used to it, meaning it wasn’t the reason I was awake. The real reason? It was just something silly, a bad feeling, a shiver down my spine that had been bugging me all day. It felt like a huge pair of eyes was boring a hole into my back, glaring at me with a cold and furious focus that was alarming- alarming because everyone in the lower district regarded each other in a way that was wary, afraid, indifferent, and aloof. If you weren’t in the highrises, you couldn’t afford to trust anyone except the people who trusted you, and they were your family. But even though you couldn't trust anyone, you didn't care about them enough to hate them.
Of course, I was probably imagining the feeling, and I knew this. Yet, despite all my rationalizing and dismissing of the feeling, I was still too wound up, too stiff, and too tired to fall asleep.
Finally, I sat up and swung my bare feet onto the cool wooden floor. If I couldn’t sleep, then I figured that I might as well study for college and the upcoming doctor examination. If I passed the exam and got my degree, I’d be able to get my interstellar doctor’s license. Then, I could zip off to some developing planet and find a job, maybe even buy a farm.
I began fumbling through the dark for the light switch, but before I flicked it on I managed to stumble over two different book piles and assault a chair.
Once my eyes adjusted to the light, I glanced around at the pit that was my room and sighed. Between a shady part-time job (don’t ask, it’s really not important) and college, I hadn’t even attempted to clean it since I’d moved in a few weeks prior.
Just as I was sitting down in the same chair I’d previously attacked, the window shattered and something sliced through the air and nicked my cheek.
Shocked, I turned around and looked at the bullet that had buried itself in the wall behind me. I squinted up out the window into the night, searching for its source when another bullet lodged in my shoulder.
“SHIT!” I yelled, breaking out of my frozen position. I flung myself out of the chair, landing on yet another pile of stuff, a book digging into my ribs. Again, one zipped above me and glanced off the cryo tank into the cabinet behind it.
“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit” I mumbled as I tried to analyze the situation. How did they find me so quickly?
I ran over my interactions with anyone in the past few days, but I drew a blank. The deliveryman? The hostess next door? The old lady who needed help in the elevator? None of them made sense. All of them didn’t care enough to glare the way the eyes I’d felt on me had. They were tired, but the eyes were hungry in a way that would either end badly for their owner or me.
But now was not the time to be thinking about how I screwed up and revealed my location. I need to get Liza and get the fuck out.
I started to stand, hoping they would have finished firing, but right as I entered view, another bullet flew by and shattered a picture on the wall.
The remains of the photo fluttered down into view and I reached for it, but then jerked back, holding in a moan at the pain in my shoulder.
The photo had a picture of me and Liza, both with teeth missing, both 9 years old. Behind us stood Dr. Justine, her hands resting comfortably on our shoulders. She was grinning at the camera, revealing her sharp canines and the dimples that usually were hidden away behind a stern mask.
Dr. Justine laying on the floor, a bullet put through her head. Don’t think about it. Liza crying and screaming and coughing up black blood onto her pillow after she got sick. Stop. Don’t think about it! I shook my head, wincing again when my shoulder moved, and forced myself to snap out of it. I didn’t have time to sit around and reminisce about how I fucked my life up.
On all fours, not daring to raise my head into range and tempt fate again, I began a limping crawl towards the cryo tank and my twin sister inside of it.
I looked at the tank, took in my damaged shoulder, looked back at the 500-pound metal chamber, and came to the conclusion that I wouldn’t be able to drag it a foot, much less down the hall at a sprint.
Hastily, I unbuckled all the latches on the cryo tank, flinching at every release, and then pulled my cold, dead sister out onto my lap.
Her skin, still supple thanks to the wonderful magic of very expensive preservation drugs, was so cold that it hurt to touch her. I inched back towards the bed as quickly as I could, pulled the quilt off, and dragged myself back over to the body on my floor.
I moved urgently, sensing the doom that continued to encircle me as I worked. The bullets had stopped, meaning my attackers were most likely closing in, trapping me in my own home.
I finally managed to secure Liza’s limp form in the blanket and I hoisted her onto my back, the skin on my arms stinging as it came in contact with her frozen thighs.
When she was essentially secure, I stood up, still crouching, and struggled towards the door.
My shoulder ached with every movement, the weight causing more blood to flow out of the wound, turning my light shirt to something darker. The chill was seeping through the blanket and into my clothes and skin, but I ignored it, since it meant Liza would be cold for a while yet.
I reached the door, and hesitated for a moment, looking back at the place I’d lived for just a short while. Not feeling sentimental, since I’d had to move more times than I could count, I instead search over my possessions, looking for something.
I spotted it near my feet on the floor. Groaning with effort, I leaned over and snatched the gun up, stuffing it in my pocket.
Footsteps and loud voices were now echoing down the hallway and I kicked open the door, the flimsy lock breaking open so easily that I stumbled out of my apartment and into view.
Next to me, another door opened and the hostess stuck her head out. I turned to look at her, struggling to regain my balance, my bare feet now aching.
“Can you, like, keep it down?” she mumbled, half awake. “I literally just fell asleep. I have work in the morning, so, like, please take it elsewhere?”
She yawned, her puffy red robe slipping down and revealing a pale, shoulder beneath, embellished by a black bra strap. She straightened her robe, yawned again, and finally seemed to grasp the situation.
“...Never mind.” She blanked, after registering the guns, blood, and the dead body. “ You gentlemen have a nice, like, night and stuff. As far as I’m concerned, I didn’t see or hear anything.” She quickly retreated back into the apartment and slammed the door, the lock audibly clicking into place.
The men down the hall from me, obviously a little disoriented from the interruption, regained their composure, cleared their throats awkwardly, and pointed their guns at me.
“Ah, now my friends…” I jokingly mumbled, backing away with my hands in the air. “ I’m sure you don’t want to kill me… We can come to an understanding… Just, you know, put the guns away?”
The men appeared unmoved by my half-assed peacemaking and started advancing, driving me back towards the end of the hall. One grunted, and they aimed their guns. Seconds later, I was sprinting towards the stairs, bullets far too close behind me.
Walton:
It was the first day in months that I’d walked on an actual planet. I did love Kione, and she was a fantastic ship, although admittedly old, but there was just something about actually ground that couldn’t be replicated or found anywhere but on a planet.
There was a thin layer of frost on the weeds that pushed through the cracked sidewalk, and the sun was just barely peeking over the horizon, reflecting off of the highrises that jutted out of the ground in the distance.
I could see my breath in the air as I strolled down the street, trying to savor the scent of cigarettes and alcohol. I turned down an alley, not sure where I was wandering towards, and spotted what looked like a big street.
Above me, a train zipped towards the tall glassy buildings in the distance, carrying people to their jobs downtown. Ahead of me, neon signs flickered and flashed, and a thin stream of people and auto bikes wove throughout the street, but in general, the roads were empty thanks to the early hour
As I got closer I could practically see the street turning off as night faded away, the nightclubs and bars and brothels shutting their doors and turning off their signs.
As I neared the corner, preparing to turn onto the street in search of a diner, a person crashed into me and I stumbled backward.
A head full of fluffy pink hair was under my chin and a body built of joints and angles slammed into mine, thin legs entangled and disrupting my balance. I stumbled again, but this time I fell and crashed on my butt, attempting to protect the frail body on top of mine.
The person was on top of me, straddling my waist and their shoulder-length hair was dangling in my eyes, making it hard to see. As my eyes focused, I noticed a few things. The first was bright yellow eyes that were looking straight into mine, and the second was the pale arm that was draped over the boy’s back. That was the third thing I noticed; the gender of the person on top of me.
The boy stood up, groaning with pain, and started to run down the alley, the direction from which I’d come.
That was when he collapsed, burdened by the weight he was carrying and by the effects of serious blood loss.
Honestly, based on the amount of blood pooled already pooling around him, I was surprised he was alive, much less moving.
I heaved myself off the ground, not taking the time to relish the added weight I was experiencing thanks to stronger gravity. The was melting beneath my palms, making my hands wet and dirty, but I didn't mind one bit.
My pink-haired friend suddenly pushed himself up into a crouching position and started struggling forwards. His sense of urgency sent off warning bells in my head immediately. Initially, I had thought that he was the one doing something illegal, but now I wasn’t so sure. Why was he running like a cornered animal, full of a wild and overwhelming need to live?
My questions were answered when two men rounded the corner and cocked their guns, one aiming towards me and the other towards the boy on the ground.
The boy looked over his shoulder and his eyes widened in alarm, the pupils dilating and his face hardening as he took in the situation. His hand went for his pocket, looking for something, but whatever it was had disappeared, leaving behind nothing but flimsy gray pajama pants that hung loosely around his legs, but tightened at his ankles exposing the bare feet beneath them.
He suddenly jerked his gaze towards me and I flinched at the hostility in his eyes. In the few seconds since I’d met him his gaze had gone from dark, to scared, to hateful and I couldn't help but wonder what he'd suffered through.
He straightened up, the body still on his back. Long locks of pink hair that matched his draped over the blanket, and similarly small and bony joints poked out awkwardly. I winced with him when he moved his shoulder to readjust his human backpack. However, the person on his back kept sliding lower and lower as his strength drained out of him and pooled on the concrete under his feet.
“Hey, you! Over there on the ground!” The man pointing his gun at me called out. “ I don’t know how you know this little bastard, but if you want to keep your life, you’d better kick the gun over here and put your hands where I can see them!”
I looked down at my boots and locked in on the dim metal machine near my left ankle. “Fu-” I cut myself short before I could finish. So this was some kind of mafia dispute. Guns were illegal on this planet, even for police and military. If someone had a gun it meant that they had ties to one of the families that ravaged the lower district. I turned towards who I assumed was the actual owner of the gun and saw something animalistic flicker behind his eyes. He wasn’t going down without a fight, and if it meant he would get away, he’d probably go as far as cutting off a limb.
Something stirred uncomfortably in my chest. The whole situation didn’t sit well with me. The boy didn’t look like someone who’d own a gun, and yet here he was, tangled up with the mafia. He looked like he was barely out of high school- no age to be screwing around with dangerous people and illegal killing machines.
I looked back at the gun and then to the men in front of me, contemplating the situation. I knew how to use a gun. My older brother had made sure that I could take care of myself, yet even he couldn't fix my naturally bad aim. It was reasonable that I could hit one of them, but not before I had more holes than a golf course. And yet, knowing this all too well, I couldn’t stand the idea of letting this young, calm, and yet so utterly terrified creature be handed over to the mafia. My chest throbbed again when I thought of his probable fate.
Screw it. If I was going to die, at least it would be in some stupid heroic stunt that maybe, just maybe, would give him a chance. I tried to recall my horoscope from this morning, hoping it was lucky, cause if it wasn't, there was no way I'd be getting out of this alive.
Looking back towards the men, I grabbed the gun, aimed, and fired, my eyes closing as I pulled the trigger and sealed my doom.
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