Ben Chaney - Son of Sedonia

“So he gets locked up in one of these? Really?” asked Nicks.

“That’s what the man said,” Andreas crossed to the center door and scanned his forearm on the side panel. It beeped. The door jarred with a soft click and Nicks pushed it open. He whistled as the lights came on inside.

The room was enormous. Big enough to house at least twelve Rasalla families and their relatives. The floor stepped down in plush carpeted terraces to a central area where high arched windows pushed up the ceiling. Couches, recliners, foot rests, and all other kinds of inviting, obese furniture sat waiting throughout the room in pleasing, flowing patterns. Matteo recognized a bar off in one corner with an array of handsome stools and back-lit bottles of liquor on the wall. A kitchen in another with pristine, high-end versions of appliances he’d seen dropped from Pit Scows. And there were other doors set in the perimeter walls. MORE rooms…? No fantasy he’d had on the roof of the rusted family apartment ever came close to this.

A fist rammed into his stomach, knocking the breath out of him. Matteo doubled over on the floor, coughing. His hands sank into the silky, fat threads of the carpet.

“Don’t get too comfortable, shithead,” said Nicks, cracking meaty knuckles. Matteo fought for breath as the two goons walked out of the room and slammed the door. His airway winked open with each sucking gasp, gradually making the familiar sound. He gnashed his teeth together. Forced himself to sit back on his heels.

The room was dead quiet. Against the ringing in his ears and wheezing in his throat, his every move made some kind of god awful noise. The City clothes chafed him. He tore his puffy white vest off and flung it aside, followed by each of his skin-tight long sleeves. The boots weighed heavy on his legs. He clawed at the buckles and yanked them off one by one, freeing his calloused bare feet. Better. He winced as he rocked forward to stand.

The thought of looking for a weapon crossed his mind. There had to be one somewhere. A knife from the kitchen, maybe, to sink into Nicks’ skull. But as he looked around, feeling the carpet caress his toes, his body begged him to relax. To take it in. He limped down the carpeted terraces to the common area and ran his rough fingers over the supple fabric of a couch. The cushion swallowed his hand as he pressed into it. On the low glass coffee table, a colorful mutant plant reached out of a silver vase. He took one of its velvet red and yellow petals between his thumb and forefinger. Smelled the sweet, heady fragrance. It gave him a fleeting buzz.

Boom. The low thud vibrated the still, clean air. Matteo looked to the arched bay window and saw a burst of hot orange rise into the twilit sky. As it faded, another rose. Fainter and further away to the left. Boom. The distant sound caught up with it. Matteo felt sick as he took a step toward the window, the floral perfume still in his nose.

Boom. B-boom…

He reached his reflection in the crystal glass, cupped his hands against it, and looked through. Fires. Great twisting columns of blackening fire swirled up to the sky from places throughout the dark, vertical landscape of Sedonia City. The tiny point-lights of ships darted through the structures, firing bursts of white streaks. A few ships popped in flashes of light as they crashed into glass and steel. Matteo staggered away from the window. The reflection of his heavenly prison surrounded him, broken by the molten clouds rising in the distance. His hands balled into fists.

He picked up the silver vase, dashed the flowers over the couches, and threw it crashing through the coffee table. Shards of glass dug into the soles of his feet as he grabbed the legs of a plush white chair. Flipped it over backwards.

“It’s not real!” he screamed as he picked up a slender standing lamp, “ None of it’s fucking real! ” He turned and threw it at the bay window. It bounced harmlessly off, leaving a pathetic scuff mark on the safety glass. In midstep to try and use the lamp as a club, Matteo heard voices from outside. Shouting.

Matteo sprang up and sprinted to the kitchen, tracking bloody footprints behind him. As the main door beeped open he spotted a wooden block of knives, yanked out the biggest one, and ducked behind the counter, slipping in his own wet tracks. The wheezing betrayed his struggle to keep quiet.

“Aden?” a woman’s voice called out. Jada… His grip on the knife handle loosened, but he stayed down, listening in breathless silence.

“Oh my God,” she said.

“Tried to tell you, ma’am, the kid’s dangerous! You shouldn’t—”

“Get out. Both of you.”

“Ma’am, your safety is—”

“You would have to drag me out,” she said, “Making my safety a moot point. So I’ll repeat. Get. Out.”

A silent moment passed. Then the door shut.

“It’s just you and me now,” said Jada, “I brought some food…unless you’ve found something in the kitchen.”

Matteo tensed, seeing the bloody trail he’d left on the floor. He leaned slowly out from behind the counter. Saw Jada with her back turned, setting a steaming tray on a long, glass table. Rich smells of sweet meat and exotic spices drifted over to him. He got up, hesitated, then set the knife down on the counter.

“Come. Have a seat with me,” she said, pulling out a chair for him. The tray made his mouth water. A slab of thick, brown meat sat in its juices on a square plate, flanked by steaming green veggies and a soft, fluffy pile of something he’d never seen.

“Catering leftovers, I’m afraid… but I’ve brought them back to life as best I could. Hanger steak, green beans, and mashed potatoes.”

When he didn’t move, she sat in the chair adjacent and began cutting the steak into bite-size chunks. She stuck a fork in one and took a bite.

“See?” she said, smiling with her mouth full, “Delicious.”

Matteo couldn’t help but smile back. He slowly crossed to the table. Sat down. His eyes darted between Jada and the plate of food.

“Go ahead,” said Jada. He reached forward and picked up a piece of steak with his fingers. Brought it slowly to his lips. As he bit down, salty-sweet juice flooded his mouth. Hunger took over everything. He dug in. Jada smiled wide as his cheeks filled to bursting.

“Not much to eat in Rasalla, is there?” she asked. He froze mid-mouthful. Swallowed hard.

“No—” he coughed, “No, ma’am…” She handed him a glass of pure clear water. He gulped it down.

“I can’t begin to imagine what it was like for you. All those years… I’m so sorry, baby,” she said, “We searched everywhere after the crash. Even after they told us all three of your family’s chips had been disabled by the… by the people who found you.”

Feeling the ghost of the alien object under the flesh of his forearm, Matteo put down the empty glass. His hands retreated from the table to his lap.

“Why?” he asked, looking up into the strange woman’s eyes. The blue-green circles trembled as they looked back at him. Drops filled and crept down her cheeks.

“Sweety, I’m your Godmother. Enota, the man you met upstairs, he’s your Godfather. Your parents… When your mother, Patty, was pregnant with you, she and your father asked us to be your Godparents. To take care of you if anything should ever happen to them.”

Boom. Boom. The far off explosions rippled gently through the windows. Jada saw his glance shift to the skyline. She reached forward and placed her soft, smooth hand on his.

“It’s okay,” she said, “This’ll all be over when the military gets here. In the meantime, you’re safe here with us… safe for the rest of your life … If you want.”