The Rise of Io (18 page)

E
ight hours
after Melonhead had dropped her off at the gym, Ella again regretted ever getting out of bed. She seemed to have forgotten all her training in three days. Her cardio was off, her muscles seemed to have melted into nothing, and her reflexes were so poor she felt like she was wading in the Gulf of Khambhat.

Finally, even Manish had had enough.

“You move like garbage and you look even worse.”

He bounced a tennis ball off Ella's head. She even saw it hurdling lazily toward her, but was too slow or indifferent to duck. And this was after two rounds of Melonhead playing bongo drums on her forehead in a sparring match. Even the speed bag had gotten a lucky hit in and cracked her on the head.

Frustrated, she screeched and kicked at the closest thing within reach, which unfortunately was Melonhead. Luckily for him, he was used to her random outbursts by now and smoothly stepped out of reach of her short legs.

“What's wrong with you?” Manish asked, slipping through the ropes and walking toward her. He held out his hands.

“Nothing,” she grumbled, holding her arms out so he could take the gloves off.

“You're done,” Manish said. “Go wash up and help Aarav prepare dinner.”

Ella quickly washed up and wiped herself with a damp rag, and then the three of them moved the table to the front of the gym and sat down to eat. That was the nice thing about working out here until the early evening. Melonhead's cooking was pretty mediocre, but free food was the best food in the world.

The three of them feasted on some deformed samosas and watered-down palak soup, and then people-watched as the families who lived in the neighborhood came out to play now that the day had cooled. The setting sun was retreating behind the one-story shacks that made up most of Little Dharavi. What little orange light was left blended with the rust that covered nearly every inch of the building walls.

Ella studied a couple nearby watching over their two young children, half-naked and barefoot, playing on the broken streets amidst a pile of blue plastic container drums next to a trash heap. She wondered if that's where she was going to be in a few years. Assuming she even wanted children. Ella was drawn to the little girl, wearing a brightly colored but worn out orange embroidered sari, one hand clutching a doll, the other playing in the mud. She hadn't grown up like that little girl.

Her upbringing had been middle-class, whatever that meant. Sure, they had to move all the time because her parents were in the military, but she really couldn't complain. There was always a roof and four good walls, and she never went to bed hungry. She had playmates, a good enough education and good enough grades. She played the bassoon, took gymnastics classes, and had many friends in grade school. So what happened? How did she end up all alone in the world living in Crate Town? What happened to that life that once held so much promise?

That war happened. That damn Quasing Alien World War. It ruined her life. The war that had consumed the world for eight years had devastated her country. India was one of the principal battlegrounds, and society had fallen apart within the first year. It had been a struggle to survive.

Ella didn't even know who had won. All she knew was that she had lost. Amma was gone, Appa disappeared, and now here she was, living off the streets and calling a post-war slum home. Ella didn't know if she should be sad or angry. She chose to seethe. She just wasn't sure who she should seethe at, so she latched on to the easiest target.

“Damn all you aliens.”

Are we never going to get past this?

“Not in a million years.”

It is a good thing I can live that long.

Ella tore her gaze away from the family. Any longer and she might start crying, and then she would never hear the end of it from Manish and Melonhead.

“Hey Aarav,” Manish said. “Put these dishes away.”

“Why don't you have Ella do it?” Aarav said. “I cooked the food.”

“Because I want to talk to her, you lazy oaf. Now clean up before I bodyshot your kidney out of you and sell it as a replacement to drunks.”

Melonhead looked as if he was going to retort, then stomped off. Ella got up to help with the plates.

Manish put a hand on her arm. “Let him do it. I do want to talk to you.”

“You're awfully mean to him,” said Ella. “Why? He's your blood. You're nicer to everyone else.”

Manish looked back at Aarav. “My nephew still has a lot of growing up to do. He and his brother and my grandson are all I have left in the world. I'm retiring after this year, and he convinced me to give him the gym instead of selling it. Says he'll give me a quarter of the profits until I die. I would rather he not lose the business and me end up a beggar on the streets.” He turned back to Ella, and put his arms around her shoulders. “That's where you come in. Did I ever tell you I like you? I consider you the daughter I never had.”

Ella wasn't born yesterday. She curved an eyebrow at Manish. “Really?”

“Like my own flesh and blood.”

A tingle shot through her spine. “Coach, if you say the words I think you're going to say, I'm going to punch your nose. There's no way I'm going to marry that melonhead nephew–”

“Oh gods no,” Manish choked. “I said I liked you. Why would I want to saddle you with that buffoon, even if he is my sister's son. What I'm saying is, the Prophus stipend has always been a good twenty percent of my earnings. Once I retire, the payments won't continue. If that's the case, I'm afraid Aarav won't be able to keep the doors open, and I won't get my steady retirement income. Unless, of course, you, as a Prophus agent, tell them you require this gym's services to complete your training.”

That is not how it works, especially considering you are the only operative to train here in over five years. Manish has been taking advantage of an oversight. His days of free money are over.

Ella considered both Manish and Io's words. “You want to stay open. I can make it happen. What's my cut?”

“I think we can work something out,” the old man grinned.

What? You are not allowed to embezzle from the Prophus.

“Hush, alien. I need some new clothes.”

The old man was growing on her. Even if he did want to use her to scam the aliens. If anything, it just reinforced that Manish and her were like-minded people, and she found that endearing. It was nice to have someone looking out for her, to not feel like she was alone all the time.

What about me? I am here.

“You don't count, alien.”

“Uncle,” Aarav shouted from inside the gym. “The water heater is acting up.”

Manish stood up and patted her on the shoulder. “We can discuss terms later.”

Ella watched the old man go inside, and listened to the shouting match that erupted between him and his nephew. She leaned back in her chair, put her feet up on the table, and basked in the cool breeze. The wind brought with it a slightly foul stench, but it probably masked something worse. Ella couldn't remember the last time she had smelled something pleasant, unless it was the heavy scent of cologne on some slimy man, which again was just another stench masking something worse.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a group of young men passing by. One of them, unsteady on his feet, kicked a chair at the table and sent it tumbling down the sidewalk. They continued joking and staggering away.

“Hey!” Ella stood up. “Pick that back up.”

“Pick it up yourself, whore,” one of the men replied. The others laughed.

Let it go. It is not worth the trouble.

Ella looked down at the plate, the knife and the half-cup of lassi in front of her. She reached for the lassi, and then changed her mind. She wanted to finish it. Her hand moved over to the dull dinner knife. She hefted it in her hand and pulled her arm back.

No. Do not throw it. There are nine of them there. I am ordering you to put the knife down.

Ordering her, eh? She'd see about that. Ella aimed and then hurled the knife as hard as she could at one of the scrawny guys wearing a sleeveless T-shirt. She had aimed for the guy's head. Fortunately, she missed, instead nailing him square in the back. To her surprise, she had flung the knife hard enough that it actually stuck into his flesh. All that training had produced results.

First of all, your windup is still way too long. Second of all, you are an idiot.

The man screamed and hunched over, frantically grasping at the knife embedded in his back. The rest of them stopped and stared openmouthed at their injured friend. After the initial shock wore off, one of the braver ones pulled it out of his back. The group's attention turned toward Ella. Their faces darkened.

“Hmm. This could be a problem.”

You think?! Get inside, quick.

Ella ducked as the knife flew past her head. The group approached and surrounded her. She planted her feet and glared back at them defiantly, daring one of them to hit her first. This wouldn't be the first time she got knocked around for standing her ground, but she wasn't going to let these jerks cow her. One of them gave her a hard shove. She almost fell over, but managed to stay on her feet.

Another to her right looked at the poles inside the gym. “Isn't this the school where they teach those strippers?”

The guy who pushed her chuckled. “Of course, that's why this whore is here.”

“Who would pay you?” a man to her left sneered.

Ella's fingers contorted into claws and she lunged, scratching the face of one who was laughing. She stomped on the foot of another, and then tried to squeeze between two bodies to escape. Someone grabbed her by the shirt, and then a blow across her cheek sent her flying into the air. She landed with a thud, the wind knocked out of her. She groaned.

One of the men knelt down. “Next time, don't mess with your bett–”

Ella kicked up and hit his nose with her heel. A spray of blood splattered all over her as his head snapped backward.

“My nose is broken,” he cried, holding it. Then they were all over her. Ella tried to cover her head with her arms as three men began punching and kicking her.

Just as quickly as it began, the beating ended.

There was a scream. Ella pried an eye open and saw one of her assailants on his backside begging for mercy. Towering in front of her was Melonhead, swinging his fists and punching another in the face over and over again. She looked to the other side, and her mouth dropped as she saw Manish pounce on three men at the same time.

She had never seen Manish move before, except when he flung himself around the poles. She was amazed at the sight. Where Melonhead was this bull of a man wrecking his way through two men, Manish ducked and dodged as if he were dancing. His movements flowed gracefully as he evaded the clumsy blows from those lumbering idiots, and then he would retaliate with a flurry of fists. Within seconds, half of the group was lying on the ground, while the other half fled down the street.

Aarav chased them for a few meters before stopping. He bent over and picked up two of the bodies and pushed them after their friends. “Don't come back,” he yelled in a booming voice, “or I will beat you until your mother feels it in her womb.”

What does that even mean?

“I don't know.”

Manish came over and offered a hand. She accepted and groaned as he pulled her up. He held her face in his hands and felt a painful spot on her cheek. “Anything broken?”

She shook her head.

He made
tsk
sounds and kissed her forehead. “You're a brave one, girl. Stupid as an empty spit bucket, but brave.” He pulled her in close and gave her a rough hug. He then guided her inside the gym. “Go wash up. Aarav will drive you home.”

Ella gave him a puzzled look, but continued inside. Manish's worry for her felt strange and weirdly touching. She wasn't used to someone being concerned for her wellbeing. She never thought she missed having a father figure. It was kind of nice.

She went to the locker room and checked her reflection in the uneven mirror that made her face look like it was half the size of her body, and made her eyes perfectly circular. That was why she liked it. She had grown up looking at the pictures of the beautiful women on newsstands and in magazines, and they all had such round eyes. Hers were thin slits by comparison, and no amount of trying to pull her eyes wider as a little girl made them any larger.

You look awful.

She did look awful. One side of her face was a mess of red and purple while the other had a gash from her ear to her nose. Her right eye was puffy like that one time she ate lobster and almost died. She closed her left eye and strained to see.

You could not just let it go, could you?

“Well, I'm sorry if I'm not as big of a pushover as you are.”

There was a knock on the door, and Melonhead came in. “Here.” He handed her a bag of ice. “For your face. Uncle says I need to drive you home.”

Ella stopped him before he closed the door. “Hey, Me… I mean, Aarav, thank you for helping me back there.”

“No problem.”

“If there's anything I can do, please just ask.”

He paused. “It would be great if you don't kick me in the balls anymore.”