CHAPTER THREE: CLIMBERS

  Jackie:

  I was living on borrowed time.

  My ears popped from the deep descent into the dungeon, while the panic flooding my system at the proximity of the hitman sharing the elevator with me caused my body to erupt in tingles. The instrumental music wafting from the speakers did nothing to calm my nerves.

  The ding of the elevator made me flinch.

  “After you,” the gunman said with a raspy voice as the metal doors screeched open.

  I nodded, avoiding eye contact.

  He followed me out into the darkness with his hand hovering near his holstered pistol.

  Toxic gas wafted from the vents in the dank basement, filling the thick air with a foul odor.

  My legs wobbled as I walked down the dim hall toward the janitorial department. I ran my hand against the gritty cement wall to steady myself.

  I stole another glance at the man behind me, eyeing his clenched jaw as he crept through the gloomy underbelly of the Life Rite mega-corp.

  Another thick cloud of smoke blew from a duct, concealing him, but the reverb from his footsteps confirmed his proximity.

  I carried on and entered the drab janitorial room that reeked of industrial strength cleaning products.

  The supervisor’s station was abandoned. No backup. No one to hear me scream.

  “Hello? Anyone here? I need a new assignment.” My voice wavered.

  I peered through the crack in the door, debating whether to run, but the professional killer lingered in the hall, and the only exit was through him.

  Instead, I grabbed another stocked cart with a radio and turned the walkie-talkie to channel thirteen.

  A voice cackled over the speaker.

  “Clean up requested in the hospital ward. Bodily fluids.”

  I squeezed the call button, jumping at the chance to be useful and accounted for.

  “Jackie Cooper reporting to the hospital wing right away. Over.”

  “Thanks, Jackie. Bring extra gloves and bleach. It’s a disaster zone.”

  “Copy that.”

  I clipped the radio to the cart and rocked from my toes to my heels, hyping myself to get back out there.

  “You’ve got this. Business as usual.” I puffed out a long-held breath.

  I gathered my courage and pushed the fresh cart into the hallway, past the armed man leaning against the wall smoking a cigarette.

  He exhaled nicotine smoke into my face, but I carried on with my head held high. The hospital ward needed me alive.

  He itched his large nose, flicked his unfinished cigarette onto the damp floor, and followed me toward the elevator.

  “What floor?” I asked.

  He looked at me deadpan and didn’t answer.

  I pressed my floor number and whistled awkwardly, my cart serving as a welcomed barrier during the ascent to the infirmary.

  The hitman followed me for the rest of the day, staying a hundred feet back, just close enough to feel his presence on the back of my neck. He watched me soak up vomit, scrub toilets, throw away old magazines from the waiting room, and dump the biohazard bins.

  At the end of the grueling day, Pops waited at the back door of the Life Rite complex where Climbers emerged at the end of their shift.

  “Hey, pumpkin.”

  “Hey, Pops.”

  Baxter put his arm around my shoulders, and I caved into the safety of his embrace.

  His shabby jumpsuit matched mine, but that’s all we had in common. He had kind blue eyes, salt and pepper hair, and a heart-shaped face much fuller than mine.

  We walked into the dusty street together.

  “How was your day?” he asked.

  “Uneventful,” I lied.

  “I heard there was a fire in the main lab,” Baxter said. “Weren’t you on that detail?”

  I looked behind me. Life Rite’s hired gun still followed.

  “No, it wasn’t me.”

  He nodded. “Huh. My mistake.”

  I trusted Pops, but the less he knew, the better. That $100,000 secret would follow me to the grave.

  The question was, would I live long enough to spend it?

  We walked in silence, past throngs of homeless Dusters in makeshift tents on littered sidewalks.

  A scruffy man held a sign that read, Trained Doctor Will Work for Food.

  Poverty was paramount in Twin Flames. We were all indentured servants, imprisoned at birth, working off a never-ending tab we didn’t sign up for.

  A patrol drone hovered past, making me shrink within myself.

  They were everywhere. Blinking. Watching. Recording.

  Unlike Alpha, patrol drones were more compact with less functionality. Their only attachment was a gun to be used in case a person of interest didn’t stop on command.

  “Stop” was the only thing patrols ever said, and in a crowd, instead of guessing who it targeted, everyone nearby froze, just in case.

  Baxter squeezed my hand. “Beautiful night.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  The night air was stiflingly hot. Even the sky felt shackled because of the Grid.

  The red laser-like patchwork covered every inch of the sky, making life feel like a suffocating prison sentence.

  “Let’s see if we can eat at Joe’s Place,” Baxter suggested.

  I shrugged. “It’s harder to get into than first-class, but worth a try, I guess.”

  We rounded the corner to scrounge up dinner. As always, the line for free soup at Joe’s wrapped around the block, so we abandoned that plan and walked toward the subway.

  At least we had a home. We were better off than most.

  As I descended the subway stairs, the shadow of an enormous hawk engulfed me overhead.

  I looked up to catch a glimpse, but the twinkle of the Grid blinded me, so I only saw the tail of the impressive bird.

  My nostrils curled from the rotten stench of the subway platform, packed with the diseased and defeated, their eyes hollow, their skin damp with despair.

  The pressure on the back of my neck returned, and my eyes darted around the crowd. It took me a beat to spot my stalker, but there he was, still watching me. I moved toward the tracks, putting as much distance between us as possible.

  My stomach growled as we waited.

  When the train pulled into the station, it pushed around the dusty air, making my eyes burn.

  The subway doors opened, but no one got off.

  “Come on, Pops. Let’s try to fit in.”

  “It’s stuffed to the gills, Jackie.”

  “Yeah, but I don’t feel like waiting for the next one.”

  I grabbed Baxter’s hand, and we squeezed into the packed train car. I elbowed my way through, determined to lose Life Rite’s hitman in the fray.

  Commuters huddled in the aisle. Homeless Dusters and their garbage bags of random goodies owned the seats, a permanent fixture never to be evicted. The thick air was tinged with body odor and spoiled food.

  At least there wasn’t room for the armed man tailing me. Maybe I’d live another day.

  The doors were about to close when the Life Rite’s hitman scanned his DNA Identifier to enter the spacious first-class cabin next to mine.

  We locked eyes through the single-pane glass dividing us. The crushing weight of his cocky smile pressed on my chest.

  I bit my dirty fingernails as the train took off down the track.

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  “You alright?” Baxter asked.

  I forced a smile. “Yeah. I’m good, Pops.”

  My stalker stared at me from the guarded first-class cabins that were reserved for the Flyer’s maids, butlers, drivers, and apparently gunmen, so they could get to and from work.

  We had similar access implanted into our Identifiers to get to Life Rite, but since our job was janitorial, we didn’t get the luxury of the nicer cabin. No movement escaped the watchful gaze of the surveillance network.

  Baxter grabbed my hand. “Jackie, you’re shaking.”

  I pulled away. “I’m fine, okay? I’m just hungry.”

  The burden of Life Rite’s secrets weighed heavily on me. Maybe Beatrice’s contract killer would leave me alone if I spoke to no one, so I turned away from Baxter, pretending he didn’t exist.

  A tattered copy of High Flyer Magazine sat on a Duster’s garbage pile. Beatrice Claudi graced the cover under the headline, “The World’s Most Powerful Woman.”

  I bet Beatrice drinks pure water. How old was she? How many pairs of shoes does she own?

  The dirty pair on my feet were my only ones. Dust covered everything in my life.

  We traveled through a Flyer community. The subway doors in second-class locked to ensure undesirables didn’t roam their well-manicured streets.

  The train burst to the surface and stopped at a high-end station. All doors remained locked with heavy bolts, except the first-class cabin.

  The assassin didn’t get off.

  I stole a glimpse at the Grid from the train’s graffiti-covered window. Even the checkered sky looked prettier on the wealthy side of town.

  The train rattled on, and I lost myself in restless worries.

  “Here we are.” Luckily, Baxter paid attention and nudged me to get off at our stop.

  They didn’t lock the doors in our neighborhood. Any lowlife was welcome here.

  Unsurprisingly, this was also my stalker’s stop.

  We spilled onto Wright Road amidst a throng of commuting bikers. Few cars drove these streets anymore. Gas was too expensive. Even electric cars were pricey to run, not including the insurance and government fees.

  Lived-in parked cars looked like a comfy alternative to sidewalk sleeping.

  The corner grocery store boasted a sale on bread for $300 per loaf.

  “I’ll eat through my hush money in two weeks,” I joked to myself.

  “What was that?” Baxter asked with a furrowed brow.

  “Home sweet home.” I ran up the cement stairs of our two-story duplex with a cracked brick facade.

  Before entering, I turned to confirm my suspicions. Life Rite’s brute sauntered down my street, locked onto my location.

  Baxter moved to unlock the front door but found it already ajar. My breath caught in my throat, wondering what awaited me inside.

  “Damn it, Johnnie never closes this thing. We’re going to get squatters.” Baxter’s voice raised as he walked into the foyer, for the benefit of whatever random roommate might overhear it.

  I rushed in after him and searched for clues of a break-in.

  Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, I shut the door and locked the deadbolt.

  Peeking through the blinds, the street was too full of homeless encampments to spot the man trailing me.

  “Dinner in five,” Baxter said.

  “Is there much to eat?”

  He squeezed my shoulder. “I’ll whip up something. Always do.”

  “Thanks, Pops.” I pulled him into a much-needed deep embrace.

  “My pleasure, pumpkin. I’m always here for you.”

  “I know.”

  The hug ended abruptly on account of the tears threatening to fall. I refused to let Baxter in on the drama.

  On my way to my room, I tripped over some boxes lining the hallway. No one thought they were here to stay.

  “Hey.” I passed three roommates in the living room, all too exhausted to acknowledge me with a wave.

  I turned into my bedroom and nosedived into the pillow on the lower bunk bed.

  Finally alone, I let out a whimper as the lab incident sank in.

  The sound of flesh and bone against the vinyl. The melting skin and oozing brain matter, the warmth of the blaze, the silence of the fire…

  Who or what rose from those ashes?

  Rumors swelled about Flyers living longer, with no titans of industry dying in recent years. Maybe there was truth to the kooky Project One Life conspiracy.

  Why give me a bonus? Could I have negotiated a larger hush fee? Opportunities are scarce… Did I miss a big one?

  My body shook as a torrential downpour of tears broke like a dam.

  If I actually witnessed a rebirth, would Life Rite let me live with such a secret? Would the kill be swift or would he take his time, making me suffer?

  “Hey Jackie. Rough day?” My roommate Gabby walked in and jumped onto the top bunk.

  “The worst.” I punched my pillow and moved to the adjoining bathroom, needing space to process it all.

  The door clicked behind me.

  “Finally, a moment alone.” I turned the faucet on and scrubbed my hands raw with rusty water.

  Then I splashed my face, looked into the mirror, and combed my hands through the red streak in my hair.

  My eyes looked sad and tired. Dark circles and a few dreaded wrinkles had already settled onto my seventeen-year-old face.

  I’m not ugly; just poor. I’d look as attractive as Beatrice, or better, if I could afford a little Life Rite cream. But with my measly salary, I was aging by the minute.

  The average life expectancy of a Duster was forty, so at seventeen, maybe it was okay to look middle-aged already.

  Gabby knocked on the bathroom door. “Are you done in there? My turn.”

  You were never alone in communal living, but it’s a decent option if you’re lucky to have a down payment for a mortgage. Pops took good care of me like that, but add property taxes, and you get eight other roommates in a single-family home.

  I wiped the tears from my red eyes and opened the bathroom door.

  “It’s all yours.”

  Gabby brushed past me, closing the bathroom door behind her.

  I peeled off my sweaty janitor’s jumpsuit and threw on my ratty house clothes. Lucky to have two outfits, I chose my favorite shirt with the familiar holes in the armpit and my comfy black leggings.

  My hunger raged, begging to be fed, so I went to the kitchen and opened the fridge. It was empty except for a few ketchup packets and half a stick of butter.

  Too starving to cry anymore, I filled a water filter with murky liquid from the faucet.

  The pitcher slowly filtered out toxins and spat out foggy water that still wasn’t safe to drink.

  I opened the cupboards to find them completely bare.

  “Who ate my last can of spaghetti?” I yelled.

  No response.

  My nose flared as I breathed through my mounting rage.

  Baxter, now in sweatpants, entered with a smile. “Look what I have.”

  He pulled a can of corn from his pocket.

  “Oh, thank you. Yes!”

  Baxter cracked the can and spilled the corn into two bowls for the microwave.

  As dinner cooked, I peeked out the window again. No sign of the hitman, but no doubt he was still nearby.

  I glimpsed my roommate Johnnie’s slicked black hair and tired pinstripe suit pass by in the hallway.

  “Hey Johnnie, you got rent?” I called out.

  “I have something even better.” Johnnie entered the kitchen with a baggie full of pills.

  “I don’t want your drugs,” I scoffed.

  “You’ll want these.” Johnnie lifted his bushy black eyebrows. “This here is Life Rite. Take these every day for a month, and you’ll have immortality. They’ve been developing this for the Flyers, but I got a hookup.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Why would I want a longer life? So I can live in this dump with you for eternity? No thanks. Where’s your rent money?”

  Baxter chimed in. “I hope you didn’t spend your rent on that street crap. Life Rite isn’t a pill.”

  “How do you know, old man?” Johnnie asked.

  Baxter shrugged. “Your lowlife dealer is trying to get you addicted to I don’t even know what. A month of that, and you’ll be his customer for life. Don’t do it, kid.”

  Johnnie popped a pill. “Suit yourself. More eternal life for me. More time to hustle.”

  Baxter shook his head as Johnnie bounced out of the room.

  Pops handed me a bowl of corn, and I shoveled it into my mouth, inhaling the last kernel within seconds.

  “You really think there’s an immortality drug?” I asked, but didn’t pause for his answer. “I know there’s been rumors, but for real? How do you know it isn’t a pill?”

  Baxter winked. “You’d be surprised what you learn when no one sees you.”

  “What have you seen?”

  “What have you seen?” Pops poked back.

  “Nothing.”

  Does he know about my involvement in the lab fire?

  He was the lead custodian, after all.

  If only Beatrice hadn’t seen me… I should have run like all the lab workers.

  I peeked out the window again.

  Is Life Rite listening, waiting to murder me for divulging their secret?

  Pops sensed my strife. “Relax, pumpkin. It’s not our job to right the wrongs we see. It’s our job to keep our heads down, mouths shut, and clean the place. Got it?”

  I stared blankly and nodded, jaded from the repeated lesson.

  Can I make it my job to right some wrongs in this world? Someone should.

  Arguing echoed from the living room, so Pops and I went to investigate.

  Johnnie and Gabby bartered aggressively.

  Dirt seeped from the ripped plaid couch cushions as we sat to watch the drama unfold. Roommate squabbles were more interesting than television.

  “I'll give you a thousand dollars for five pills,” Gabby offered Johnnie.

  He wagged his finger. “These are way more valuable than that.”

  Steve, another deadbeat roommate, sat in my favorite recliner. “I’ll pay your rent this month for ten pills, Johnnie.”

  I interjected. “I like the sound of that. Payable to me.”

  Gabby sighed. “Too rich for my blood, but this is a story for my ViewMe channel.”

  She pulled out a pocket-sized camera and pressed record.

  Johnnie pushed the camera away. “If you keep that out of my face, I'll give you two pills for a thousand. Vlog about the effects of Life Rite as long as you don’t mention where you got it. I take five percent of your clicks.”

  “Deal.” Gabby took a pill and popped it. She turned the camera on herself.

  “Does eternal life come in a pill? I just took Life Rite, y’all. Follow me for immortal updates.” She threw the camera a peace sign and a kissy face.

  With the drama settled, I turned on the TV and flipped through channels to relax and forget about the man lurking outside.

  A commercial boasted that the lottery jackpot was two trillion dollars.

  On another channel, a celebrity Flyer bragged that one container of yogurt only cost a $100 and might kill ten percent of the pesky parasites living in your gut.

  I clicked the remote again, and the Life Rite logo filled the screen.

  “Reclaim your youth with Life Rite.”

  Despite seeing that logo every day at work, I never realized that the R resembled a bird’s beak.

  An odd detail that punched me in the gut. Feraz rebirthed first as a baby bird-like creature…

  The lab accident nagged at me, so I flipped the channel and settled on the news. Doom and gloom newscasts were a popular form of entertainment.

  The reporter filled us in on the dystopian state of the world, lulling us ever deeper into our trance of indifference.

  “The PX virus came early this year,” the newscaster said.

  “They better catch those PX gutter rats. Nobody’s gonna give me no virus.” Gabby laughed.

  Johnnie snickered too. Clearly, the effects of the drug had already kicked in.

  I wish I had taken some. Maybe that was how to spend my pending bonus payment. If I lived long enough to receive it…

  Everyone stopped laughing when a patrol drone hovered near the window.

  We froze, even though it didn’t command us to stop.

  Everyone except me exhaled when it continued its routine scan of the neighborhood.

  “Sources say there’s been a breakthrough in the development of the PX virus vaccine, which may become available to the public as early as next year,” the reporter added.

  A crash echoed from the alley behind the house.

  “Raccoons must be back,” Baxter said.

  We hadn’t had raccoons in months. My homemade traps did the trick and kept us fed for weeks.

  “I’ll go check,” Baxter offered.

  “No, Pops.” My lower lip quivered. “I’ll go.”

  If Life Rite’s enforcer was ready to make his move, I refused to let Pops get hurt.

  I stood, went to the kitchen, and grabbed the sharpest knife for protection.

  The rusty blade shook in my unsteady hand as I tiptoed into the dark alley.