The Ordeal

Chapter Eleven

I walk out the front doors of the Guyong tired and frustrated.

It's not actually an unpleasant evening. Dust levels are low, the sundown sky has a lovely orange hue and the temperature is balmy. If I were walking home from the store with my dad, I might even whistle a tune.

But after the day I've had, none of it registers.

The Guyong is not what I thought it would be. Wu Zhen uses new students as janitorial staff and I didn't learn anything. I didn't do any sparring, all we did is watch video. What good is video to someone untrained?

Jerrold comes up from behind and walks past me out the door. "See you tomorrow," he says, his voice absurdly cheerful. What does he have to be cheerful about?

I wish for a moment that I could talk to my dad. But now that I have some distance from our confrontation, I realize that I have no desire to be anywhere near him right now. His words still make bile come up in my throat: If you enroll in that school...you're not welcome in this house anymore.

At least I have a home with Kris. I have the sudden thought that I should do something to thank her. If I'm going to be staying with her, I should pull my own weight a little. Maybe I can bring home some food for us. But from where? I have no money and no home. But then I remember: Night Nachos. Mikey Mike. After collecting debts I would sometimes sit at the bar and order whatever he would let me get away with. I always left good tips. Maybe he'll let me dig through the day's leftovers. There are usually other people waiting around with the same idea so I'll have to hurry.

I walk briskly down the street leading away from the Guyong. The buildings here are taller on average than on the street where the antique shop is, but most are boarded up here as well. There's only an occasional light on upper floors, probably due to squatters. They are all rundown, but the orange dusk light gives them a different hue. You could almost picture them, not as abandoned dumps, but as carefully preserved ruins from the past.

I try to imagine what it must have been like when all these buildings were occupied, hosting successful businesses that had crowds of people passing through. Before the Big One, and before the scorching heat and drought that made it impossible to grow crops. I hear this region used to be called 'America's breadbasket'. That was a long time ago. Now the only crops that grow are those tended by the Preserve. I see the drone footage in the chatstream and it's still hard for me to believe I'm not looking at something animated.

I suddenly hit a fleshy barrier and bounce back. I look up and freeze. That's what you get for letting your mind wander, Leander. You stupid idiot.

I just ran straight into a Mecha. His tattoo coverage is nearly complete, so he's a higher up.

And so are his five other friends.

I know I can't even dream of fighting back against these odds. Their smell makes me recoil, a pungent combo of body odor and one too many rat-burgers. I look around as the Mechas close in, desperately trying to find an escape route.

I see it when two of the Mechas are a bit too eager to close in on me and leave a gap in the circle. I stomp down hard on the foot of the closest one and lunge for the gap as he grunts. I'm almost free when I trip on something, probably someone's foot, and go sprawling in the dust. I feel several pairs of hands yank me up. They carry me roughly to the nearest wall and hold me pinned down.

The leader glares at me with wide eyes, accented by the dark bags of skin under them. Some Mechas like to taunt their victims but he just looks at me silently, deadly serious. I feel a numb, dead fear creep through me. Is this what a deer would feel like, trapped by a mountain lion?