Ben Chaney - Son of Sedonia

Six, eight, twelve, f-fourteen. Matteo climbed the rickety metal stairs to their apartment two at a time as he’d seen Jogun do. His scrawny thighs burned and trembled by the time he reached twenty-four, and there were forty-two to go. He grumbled and changed to slow single steps. The stairs coiled around the stack of freight container apartments where Jogun had raised him. The ragged, torch-cut window holes were creepier tonight. None of the usual candles, glow lanterns, or day-charged solars. Dark shapes moved around inside, speaking in hushed voices. Lockdown here too? Robos must be really pissed…

Dozens of tenants lived in this Stack. He passed a few sitting out on their balcony and a quick glance told him they were stoned. Sway addicts. Red powder caked their noses as they sat and stared up at nothing with giant pupils. Cigarettes smoldered at the filter in their stained hands. Further up, a man and a woman spilled out of a doorway in front of him. The man staggered back on a familiar prosthetic leg. They screamed at one another, punching, kicking, and clawing. Raia’s dad, shirtless and missing teeth, slapped the straw-haired woman. Matteo waited, keeping his eyes on his feet.

“Hey, shut the fuck up, up there! The Robos are sweepin,’ goddammit!” a hushed, rasping voice called up at them from nowhere. Raia emerged from the house, tugged her mother and father back inside, and grabbed the door. She paused when her glance met Matteo’s. A purple bruise surrounded one of her perfect blue eyes.

“Are you okay?” Matteo asked, barely loud enough to hear. She crinkled her nose in a show of disgust.

“Freak!” She yanked the door shut. Tingling upset washed over him as his mind wrestled with the word. Maybe she said it to push him away and protect him from the other kids? Maybe to protect herself from Oki? Or maybe I AM a freak… Matteo hung his head, hid his tears, and stomped up the stairs.

He finally arrived at the top apartment, entered, then shut the plastic door behind him. His legs wobbled as staggered to the floor mattress and flopped down. Wincing, he rubbed his thighs just above the knees. I’ll get stronger. I’ll do it or die trying. A fantasy of running with Jogun materialized. Jo ran with his satchel and pistol as he’d done earlier that day, and Matteo carried a fearsome assault rifle with flames painted up the mag, over the bolt, and curling at the butt-stock. The muscles of his body rippled and pulsed as his powerful legs launched him over alleys and up massive flights of stairs…taking steps three, four, or five at a time. Jo fell behind and called ahead, begging Matteo to slow down. But Matteo went faster. Faster. Faster . He ran until he reached the Border. Looking up, he flashed a brilliant white smile. No plastic tube in his nose. With the deepest, clearest in-breath he’d ever taken, he crouched and then exploded upward in a soaring arch over the Border. Jo became a spec far below him. He turned away in mid-air to look at the City. Only he was high above it, looking down.—

The book! Matteo wiped his cheeks, reached under his hoodie, and pulled out the magazine. His eyes strained to look at his prize. Too dark in here… He reached for the battery lamp then stopped. Right. EXOs. Matteo tucked the magazine under his arm, pushed himself up on shaking legs, and almost buckled again. Grunting and fighting to stay up, he crossed to the balcony door. Heaved it open, spilling the fake dawn of a billion City lights across the hard floor. Matteo sighed. He stepped out onto the balcony and willed his aching limbs up the ladder to the roof.

The attempt to sit became an awkward fall onto his hip. He swallowed the pain and pulled his legs to the cross-legged position. Bent over the magazine in his lap. The colors were ruddy and brown in this light, but the shapes on the cover were clear. Drawing in as deep a breath as he could from his airtank, he opened to the first page.

Jogun opened the plastic door of the apartment and limped inside. He lowered the satchel to the floor, then paused in the pitch black. He listened for Matteo while his eyes adjusted, but heard nothing in the close hot air of the apartment. A twinge of worry came over him. He shuffled toward the mattress and crouched beside it. Empty. Where the hell is he? The balcony door creaked slightly open and a sliver of dim orange light entered. He hated that Matteo loved that balcony so much.

“‘Teo?” A moment passed, then two light knocks clanged through the metal ceiling. Jogun puffed a sigh and walked to the balcony door. He climbed up to find Matteo pouring over pages of a magazine. The boy didn’t seem to notice him.

“What? No ‘Hey big brother, welcome home! Glad ya didn’t get shot’?” said Jogun, walking over and sitting down beside Matteo. His little brother blinked and shook his head as though waking from a Sway trance.

“Huh?”

“Nevermind. Get what you needed from the Doc?” asked Jogun. Matteo nodded and demonstrated with a smooth, deep breath. “Good good. He gave you that too I guess… Can I take a look?”

Grudgingly, Matteo held the magazine up. Above chunks of text that Jogun couldn’t read, a picture of a giant crane atop a skyscraper spread across two pages.

“Oh…I see.” said Jogun. Matteo pulled the magazine back and turned to the next page. Jogun chuckled. “Dammit, Utu…I need to have a talk with him.” Jogun stretched and laid back on the tarnished metal roof. Hands behind his head, he stared up at the twinkling flow of traffic. Matteo sighed sharply.

“About what ?”

“About fillin’ your head with all… this ,” Jogun waved a hand at the magazine. Matteo sat motionless, staring at the book. Jogun sat up. Leaned forward to grab eye contact.

“And I know you don’t like to hear about it, but maybe one day it’ll sink in. Out here, you gotta keep focused on what’s in front of you. You starve, catch a bullet, or get locked up if you don’t.”

“Like Dad did, yeah I know,” Matteo snapped.

“Y-yeah… Like him.” Both of them went quiet. Jogun dug around in a cargo pocket for the hand-rolled cigarettes there. Hearing Matteo’s nasally breath, he released the pack and took his hand back out. Flexed his fingers. Drug addled ravings rose from a few floors below. Matteo fidgeted with the corner of the magazine’s frayed binding.

“I wish I could remember something about him. Anything,” Matteo said.

“Wish I could forget,” Jogun stood up. That dark apartment flashed again through his mind. Instinct turned him to look down at the boy. He saw the magazine clutched in the tiny hands, pulling his little brother away. In one quick motion, Jogun crouched and snatched it up. Matteo lunged after it but grasped only air.

“Man, look at that wall! ” Jogun thrust a pointing finger at the giant concrete barrier in the distance. It loomed high above the shanty towns that clung to its base. Tiny red lights set at wide intervals pulsed along the top edge, and pillbox watch towers punctuated each broad slab of concrete. Everyone in the Slums knew of the big guns stationed in the towers.

“What does that say to you?!” asked Jogun. Matteo blinked back tears and turned away.

“It says ‘Don’t bother! We don’t want you here!’” said Jogun. Seeing tears run down Matteo’s cheeks, he buckled. Smoothed his voice.

“Dad wouldn’t get with that. Always talkin’ about buyin’ and killin’ his way in. How Mama and me cost too much already and she couldn’t have no more… It got him killed, ‘Teo, and he took Mama with him. Almost took us .” Jogun sat again. Leaned toward his little brother.

“This right here is your home. These are your people,” Jogun waved a hand over Rasalla, “Smart as you are, you can find a way to help us all out right here…make things better here … understand?”