Remembrance

Chapter 3 - Jack

Usually, I'd kill to see the sun. 

Reno only ever gets three types of weather: hot fat raindrops, clouds, and the occasional electricstorm. The Union really picket a bad spot for another shipyard. Half the time, It seems like those high-tech cruisers and destroyers can hardly launch through the thick gusts of wind and pelting bullets of rain. Some navy Earth's got. 

But today's different. Except for a few small clouds on the horizon, the sky's clear. It's even starting to light up bright blue—something I haven't seen in weeks—as the sun begins to rise over the mountains. 

I sit on the seventh story of a crumbling building, my legs dangling off the concrete ledge. If it were midday I'd be more careful, staying hidden in the shadows and avoid exposing myself. It's early, though. I don't see a single uniformed soldier on the streets below. Most people are still sleeping. 

This high-rise was an apartment block, I think, but it was abandoned a long time ago. During the first exodus, by the looks of it. Small puddles mark the rotting floor, and the brick walls—peeking out from behind layers of peeling paint—are slowly crumbling under the weight of the structure. Despite the damage, the Viceroy's goddy portrait somehow manages to cling to one of the walls like a leech, sucking the life from the room. I wonder who put it here—this building looks like it was abandoned long before he came to power. 

I'm wearing the same as usual—a fraying shirt and old military boots—but I can still feel the warmth of the sun through the fabric, heating my skin. A gust of wind blows some hair into my eyes and I run a hand through it, trying to calm it down. I pause for a second, then pull my shirt down to glance at my injured shoulder.

Not so injured anymore—the gunshot wound from two days ago has shrunk into a small patch of angry-red skin. 

My eyes catch on the mountains, far away. Closer are the shipyards, looking hazy in the distance. If they weren't so smooth, you might easily mistake them as being several other mounds of rock. Next is the lake and poorer districts, then the railway center, the large army garrisons, the rest of the city, and, finally, us.

Generally, the sight of Reno sprawled out in front of me like a map is irritating. It's like staring at an ugly scar, or an injury that's finally scabbed over. Either way, a bad memory of the past. Usually, I can only picture the officers combing through the streets abusing power, extorting people, and taking bribes.

But not today. I don't know if it's the warm glow of the sun wiping away the usual signs of decay, refreshing the city, but Reno almost looks. . . pleasant? It's weird to admit, but it's true. It actually seems like something they'd show on the holoscreens—I guess I know where they get those constant picture-perfect propaganda images. Or maybe I'm just in a good mood because in two month's time, I won't see this place ever again.

I turn back into the building, where April's tucked away in a dark corner. She's still asleep, wrapped up in my raincoat, and part of me wants to let her stay that way. She's always so calm when she sleeps—unlike me. I get nightmares almost every night, always waking up sweating and thrashing around, my heart pounding a million miles a minute. Just another wonderful side-effect of my cracked brain. 

It's a bad habit to rest in place for too long, though. We usually don't stay anywhere for more than eight hours—the time it takes to sleep. The Union probably wants to dig their claws into me like a hungry dog, and we shouldn't make it too easy. 

I gently wake April, and once she's standing it only takes twenty minutes to pack our stuff—just a few knives and other trinkets—scale down the building, and disappear into the city. In that time, the sun creeps even higher into the sky and Reno starts to come alive. Hopefully it won't take us too long to snake our way through the buildings, heading for a small, easily unnoticeable warehouse tucked up near the mountains. Just like Luke and Kadir directed.