To Escape From Gravity

Chapter Two

"I got a Dusty Drewdop coming up," screeched the bartender.

She clanked a slightly dirtied glass down on the worn countertop, with the blue liquid sloshing dangerously close to the rim. Seconds later, a burly man in desperate need of a shave snatched it up.

The hum of human interaction swelled in the bar. McRidley's was by no means the nicest bar in Wardor, but the locals had an affinity for it. And it's where Reed liked to go when she had to travel into the ground city, mostly because no one minded Harlem following her in.

Reed approached the bar, with Harlem right at her side. "Hey Marla, I need a tall brew and a lead on when to get a cheap ride up."

For a bartender, Marla had a short fuse for being bothered. Her side eye was as infamous as her drinks. She glared at Reed as she poured the amber ale.

"Why would I know anything about that?" she said.

Reed held her breath for a beat, then slipped a silver coin on the table. Pausing the pour, Marla glanced at it and swiftly swept it off the table. She slammed the glass in its place, the liquid sloshing inside with a wave of froth.

Marla's voice was a notch above a whisper. "Someone told me there's gonna be a barge of produce headed up at three tonight. Going out of Transit G. But I wouldn't advise someone of your..." she hesitated as her eyes moved up and down Reed. "...stature to go down to Transit G alone."

Reed downed the drink quickly, letting herself relish in its taste and effect. She enjoyed the buzz that flooded her mind, although its effect left her aching for more.

Pushing the glass back towards Marla, Reed glanced down at Harlem. "You give me the same advice every time, and look how long I've survived. The silver is for the brew and you letting me keep my bike in the back for two nights. Right?" she asked, though her question left little room for negotiation.

Marla rolled her eyes as she took the empty glass. "No one will touch that bike of yours. But if you ain't back by Saturday, you'll owe me a lot more silver."

With a curt nod, Reed pulled her dusty overcoat onto broad shoulders and a bulging leather knapsack onto her back. She sauntered away from the bar, Harlem fast to follow in her footsteps. As soon as she reached the door, the howling wind filled her ears again, amplified by the way it forced itself between the shallow buildings. Pulling a black knit hat down over her copper-colored hair, she braced herself for the elements and exited McRidley's onto the dirt-covered street.

***

Transit G was known for being dreary and for being chaotic; two attributes that resulted in the surrounding area becoming commonplace for the homeless and desolate, doing whatever it took to snatch some food or make a quick coin. Screams were not a rare occurrence in its vicinity. It sat near the southeast corner of Wardor. And while the ground city had very few things that made it pleasant, the southeast corner was especially unappealing.

The streets surrounding it brimmed with trash and rotting food, since large palettes of produce were most often shipped through that transit. Rats were as ever-present as the stench. One-story buildings housed the poorest residents and unsavory businesses. Every few crooked blocks, there'd be a corner store selling odds and ends and a selection of bare necessities. Each patron would fall into at least one of three categories: poor, drunk, or desperate.

The hub of Transit G was a large domed-shaped building, sitting three times as high as any of the surrounding structures. It was made of steel, and had hints of former architectural beauty, but like most other transits, the harsh conditions on the ground beat it into dullness. When it was first created seventy-six years ago, its metal would shimmer in the sunlight. But after the exposure to the wind and dirt and rain, it was now a lackluster gray, with some growing spots of rust.