Divided Worlds Trilogy 01 - Disconnect (9 page)

A distant voice from her side spoke, “Mister and Missus Kade are here.”

“My parents are home,” whined Rosa. “I’ve got to go.”

Zachary moved right, following her roll. “When will I hear from you?”

“Tomorrow, give or take a shortage.” She inhaled, drawing her head to her chest. “I’ve never been able to use these Raptors to call anyone except my own number. And now I have you. You’d better save the battery usage. Push your thumb onto the pad three times, then pick the
Power Off
choice. I’ll call you tomorrow at about this time so don’t switch the Raptor on until then. It works the same way, push your thumb in.” Rosa licked her upper lip. “You know what this makes us now? We’re officially friends.”

“Rosa,” said Alice.

“Speak soon. Bye.” Her blue image dropped back into the Intercom.

“Bye,” mouthed Zachary, sliding his head along the pipe.

He’d made a new friend. But, it didn’t feel enough. Scavengers never admired things from afar. They’d stand on the edge of risk to reach a wanted prize. He wanted to
see
her again, and not just with the Intercom.

Zachary stared at the ceiling.

How?

Zachary concentrated on the sparks flowing within Patch’s chest. Vibrant currents glittered across the droid’s eye. Sitting on the floor, Zachary peeked between his fingers. The Intercom in his pocket felt heavy.

Hollowed emptiness had filled the remainder of his day. It didn’t matter that Diego and he had uncovered a half-depleted battery component worth six Leo-coins.

Rosa had done something unexpected; she’d changed him.

Scouring the Wastelands didn’t excite Zachary anymore. It troubled him and that felt wrong. If he couldn’t rummage through slimy sewers then what was the point? Give up and mope about until Rosa called? It had to stop; he had to take control of his thoughts.

Zachary’s fingernails dug onto his palm. “I’m confused.”

“Have you conversed with Rosa Kade, again?” Even without flesh, Patch shared the patronising nature of his dad.

“She calls me, not the other way around. I couldn’t call her even if I wanted to.”

Zachary scratched his brow. The short conversations had become an addiction. Denying that he wanted to call Rosa was a blatant lie. He’d lost count of the abandoned lanes that he could have snuck into and made a call to her. But who would answer? Her mother? Her bot?

“Her logic for doing so makes sense,” said Patch. “Her diary entry indicated a lonesome girl seeking attention.”

“You don’t know that, and you’re making an assumption.”

“Is my logic flawed?”

“You’ve only heard her. I’ve
listened
to her.”

“And that makes you know her? You are making the same assumptions about her as I am, therefore neither of us is illogical or correct.”

Zachary flicked a piece of bitten-off fingernail into the air. “She doesn’t have anyone her own age to talk to. Her parents don’t let her out. Something to do with her dad, but, she’s got me now, and it makes her happy.”

“Are you happy? I recall your haste in hacking the initial Intercom. It has not lessened. I see the same questions in your face as the day that Tania Connor left Marcus Connor.”

“Don’t say her name.” Quivering water welled up in his eyes in an instant.

“A male lost in thought over a female is the same, regardless of the cause.”

Zachary glared up at the irregular joints of the ceiling. “Rosa’s not a bad person. It’s like I understand her and then I don’t, all at the same time. I feel like I can talk to her, but I’m afraid to. She’s … different.”

“Different from whom?” asked Patch. “You have never spoken of anybody with interest or pleasure. You have always distanced yourself from association.”

Zachary recollected a moment in his home from twelve years before. Then, there’d been order in the arrangement of cutlery, the stacking of plates and the folded dishcloths. Three chairs had sat around the table. The slim man who’d come to collect his mum hurried her to leave behind the packed bags that would slow them down. She’d hugged Zachary so tight that he thought she’d be taking him with her, but she didn’t.

“I’m sorry,” were Tania’s last words.

Four years old. Unfed. Confused. Alone.

Zachary had pounded the door screaming for her to come back. The door never opened; not even when he begged Patch to smash the locks. But what could the droid welded to the wall have done? And when his dad returned home, he wished the door had remained shut.

The large dent in the centre of the table where his dad had slammed his fist that day was still present. Zachary had cowered in the corner of the room, crying, struggling to shut up no matter how agitated his dad became. Marcus stormed out of their home. The door was unlocked. Zachary could have left, but he didn’t. Every limb failed to move as he curled up in tears. Hours had passed before Marcus returned after searching. He never said if he’d found them, or whose blood etched his knuckles.

Zachary had run to his room when his dad turned on the Haulage-404 droid. Marcus had smashed a chair against Patch, and then clobbered the droid with no break for minutes. Without a sound, Patch took it all.

It had been the darkest moment of Zachary’s life in this home. His mum had destroyed any trust he had in anybody. Days with his dad’s anger had intensified the cold hatred Zachary developed toward her. With age, he saw other homes unravel amidst similar deceit. Nobody was immune, and when he came to know of a family living in peace, he wondered how long before somebody trampled on their happiness.

Zachary had vowed never to bring his home to a wrecked state on the promise of a woman’s heart. Yet, he couldn’t cling to that decision any more.

“Rosa is different,” he said. “She lies to protect herself. She doesn’t do it to hurt anybody. She has a good heart, and if she found something she liked, she’d want to look after it.”

“Do you like her?” questioned Patch.

Zachary grimaced. “The girls around here don’t care about you. They judge you on what you’re wearing, how many coins you have to spend on them, and how much respect you can carry on your shoulders when you march down the lane. They never give anybody a chance.”

Patch shook his finger. “But you’ve never tried. Have you?”

“You know I haven’t. I’m nothing but a poor scavenger. That’s what my dad thinks of me. Rosa doesn’t.”

“How do you know that she doesn’t?”

“
I don’t
. Damn, Patch, can’t you say anything nice? Look, Rosa has every right to look down on me, but she doesn’t.”

“Does she know your feelings?”

Zachary’s neck tingled. “Do you think I should tell her?”

“You have both crossed a boundary and I do not know what the outcome will be. An Underworlder feels for an Overworlder. Incompatible civilisations. Worlds apart with differing expectations.”

“We can
still
be friends.”

“I detect that you have exceeded that.” The droid’s cold fingertips touched Zachary’s head. “Even a machine can empathise with your grief. If you continue to converse with Rosa Kade, then be prepared to desert the feelings you harbour.”

Zachary’s pounding heart battered inside him. He recalled his worthless life. Getting up. Scavenging. Handing in treasure. Cooking. Sleeping. If he’d never found that Intercom, he wouldn’t have experienced the perfection she’d thrust into his imperfect world. Eyes closed, he tried to think back to before he found the wired box.

He couldn’t.

Rosa’s face whooshed back as if she’d always been there.

“But what if –”

Patch interrupted, “There is no ‘if’. It can never work.”

“That’s what people say about everything.”

“Rosa Kade is your first. There will be more.”

“Give up on her, you mean?” demanded Zachary.

“Give up on something too risky to have.”

Something big clunked outside followed by thuds and a squeal. Zachary ran to the door, unlocking it even though shrieking increased.

Paper flapped onto his face. Taking it, he blinked at the thousands of sheets scattering down from the ceiling. Since when did a drop point exist above Shantytown?

“We’re going,” roared a middle-aged man at another in the opposite lane. A stove crashed between them from a home above.

“Look what you’ve done,” shouted someone high up.

Zachary shut the door. Next to the lantern, he read the sheet.

Districts One to Four to be evacuated. This warning must not be ignored. Vacate immediately.

“Trouble?” asked Patch.

The droid took the paper Zach handed to him. “Where did this come from?”

“Overworlders are using the drop points to launch these. That’s from the second batch. The first one was less aggressive.”

Patch beeped. “You must inform Marcus Connor.”

Zachary smirked. “You believe in this? Dad already knows.”

“This is not a scheme to be ignored. This has happened before.”

“I know. Nine years ago, but nothing came of it.” Zachary surveyed the area of the droid’s head that made loud grinding whirs. “What’s wrong?”

“No – it
has
happened before.” Patch heaved a crackling cough. “Scouring-SH3Ys. Welders-HN4Zs. MM-Conduit-Relayers. Haulage-404s. All droids received a destabilising command when our use was spent.” A deep human voice omitted from his open mouth. “Haulage-404s will be decommissioned. This command must not be ignored. Prepare for functional-destruction.”

Patch released the sheet of paper. “Droids dropped like nails.”

Zachary stepped back. “They wouldn’t do that to us.”

“Wouldn’t they?” Patch’s eye glowed. “In the dark of Underworld, who would see what happens?”

Zachary watched his dad slurp from a bowl of mashed potato. Nothing had been mentioned about the latest batch of sheets dropped the previous night.

Marcus lifted up a pair of scratched, steel-clad boots. He’d borrowed them from Horatio who lived on the uppermost fifth floor of their tower. Dismissed from the Far-Wallers because of the spasms in his arms, Horatio now led a dormant lifestyle doing little but watch Shantytown.

“I don’t need these anymore. Take them back before you leave.” Marcus kicked out one leg, revealing a thick boot with blackened metal coverings. “Reinforced titanium wall-hoggers.”

It was bizarre to Zachary that his dad had used the
spend-with-caution
Gallis on footwear. With the threat of departure from the Districts, shouldn’t their money be hoarded?

Marcus gazed at him. “Is everything fine with you?”

Zachary’s brow creased. He glimpsed at the still posture of the Haulage-404 droid. What could his dad be referring to?

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Is there something you want to tell me?”

Keeping his balance steady, Zachary shoved his hands into his pockets. He felt the smooth curve of the Raptor’s side. “What do you mean?”

“You’re quieter.” Marcus left the table. “Is something bothering you?”

Zachary frowned, blowing air. “It’s nothing, Dad. I’m fine.”

Marcus nodded. “Zach, I’m sorry that I’ve never been the best dad for you.”

Whoa
. The strength in Zachary’s legs faltered a little.

“But, I’m still your dad, and if anyone out there’s hassling you, I don’t care who it is, that rat Shekhar, his tight-pocketed boss, or any of the gangs, remember, I’m here.”

Several days since the episode of the Bombay depletion, his dad’s anger had succumbed to a form of composure he’d never seen. Thoughts bombarded Zachary in wondering if now was the right moment to reveal Rosa. “There’s new competition in the Wastelands. I’ve had a few tiring days. Running and digging.”

“It doesn’t have to be that way. You can have five more months, and when you hit seventeen, you’re coming to the Far-Wall. No debate. Five months.” Marcus turned to the door. “See you later.”

What if there wasn’t a Far-Wall in five months?

Zachary returned to his bedroom.

Rosa would call soon, and he hoped that time would slow to let their conversation last. The urge to scavenge, the force that forever propelled him, felt distant. Studying the grime under his fingernails, images of Rosa’s disgust at holding his hand amused him.

Another concern dumbfounded him. He prodded the small pinholes along the edge of the device which indicated a method of charging, except he didn’t have the components. And there was no chance of forcing a wireless charge either. Once the Raptor’s battery ran out, that’d be it. Zachary kicked his bed. He couldn’t think of the last time that a scavenger had found an intact charger. But – parts – yes. There must have been traders with expert knowledge of building a charger. Wires. Chips. Connectors. It could be done. And if that didn’t work?

What about stealing one from IOTA? Zachary recoiled at his audacity.

Inserting his thumb, the Intercom reactivated. After placing it in a pocket, he took the boots off the table, and left his home. With the boots hanging from tied straps around his neck, Zachary climbed the external ladder. Mid-climb, he peered out to watch the dwellers of Shantytown shrink. The District resembled the mounds and tips of the Wastelands. There’s no way that Overworld could move them and all their stuff. It’d take forever. The streets would be blocked for days with everybody arguing.

Zachary slowed as he passed each home, intrigued by the missing sounds of generators chugging, or dwellers shuffling across creaky floors. Had they left last night?

Horatio lived alone in a square block not much bigger than a bedroom. Zachary knocked on the wooden-beamed door, expecting the old man to yell to be left alone. The door opened.

Flies buzzed in the middle of the room containing a stove, a wardrobe and rolled carpets. Leaving the door open for some light, Zachary swiped at the flies. He observed blankets and pillows missing from the bed. The wardrobe was empty of clothes, and the drawers of cutlery. Placing the boots on the table, he eyed the corners of the room, expecting the old man to surprise him.

Had Horatio left in a hurry? For fear? Worry? Self-preservation? If the paper drops were to be believed, even a madman wouldn’t have scarpered without bartering his goods first.