Dark Voices

Chapter One: Business as Usual

Chapter One: Business As Usual

The smell of decaying flesh is stronger than usual, but Lex supposed that the weather was at fault. It was midday, and the sun was perched high in the sky, seeking out the darker corners of Harmony's slums to kiss it with sharp, bright rays that would turn the skin red of anyone unfortunate enough to not be covered.

"Gotta love the reason for life on Earth," Oakley muttered beside Lex, drawing the brim of his hat further down his brow. Lex raised her hand to do the same, and the delicate flesh of her cheeks became blissfully cool almost instantaneously.

"Ah, yes, I most agree, brother, especially when your face turns as red as an apple and starts to peel-"

"Ugh! Stop it, Lex," Oakley whined, bumping her firmly to the side. Lex grinned. Her younger brother was surprisingly calm around injured or sick people, but was incredibly sick at the thought or process of himself in the same position.

"All right, all right, I'll stop telling you about how sunburned you get and what happens when-"

Oakley bumped into her again, this time harder, and she stumbled a step, laughing. Oakley scowled and pressed on, ignoring his hysterical older sister. Lex wiped away a tear of mirth and followed suit, graciously holding her tongue for the rest of their trip.

The Market was its usual bustle of shouting stall owners and haggling customers. Lex and Oakley remained ignored as they weaved through the crowd, moving steadily but carefully, always glancing to see that they didn't lose the other. It was broad daylight, and usually there would be little means for concern, but times were changing, as their mother said. Not a day went by that the siblings didn't hear about another neighborhood child or woman disappearing, assumed dead if there was mercy, and sold into the Black Market connections if there was none.

The only reason as to why Lex even allowed Oakley to accompany her was because she felt relieved by his presence. He was only 13, but was already as tall as she was, and the daily manual labor he did during the day around the neighborhood gave his lean figure a stronger quality. Not to mention that the familiarity of their exchanges eased the worry in her mind that today the next missing face around their neighborhood would be hers.

"Careful," Oakley warned, grabbing her elbow and pulling her to halt. She waited as a stall owner hurried by with a cart overloaded with greasy and sharp machine parts that would have torn into her flesh like a knife through warm butter.

"Thanks," she told him. She hoped her voice didn't sound as breathless as the rest of her did.

"No problem, just try to avoid shredding your organs apart next time."

Lex made a face, earning her a soft scoff. With that, they continued to make their way past screaming children and howling dogs, shouting hagglers and persistent beggars, all the way to the edge of the Market's square, to the smallest stall.

Minerva was in her usual spot; feet propped up on her counter, fingers greased and wrist deep in what looked to be a severely damaged chest piece of an escort robot. She was wearing her favored rainbow scarf, which served well to cover most of her nose and mouth from the Market's less than desirable smells and smoke. Her hair was pulled back in its usual ponytail, although a dark curl escaped and brushed against her cheek as she tilted her head to get a better view inside of her latest project.

"Good business day, Minerva?" Lex asked when they approached. A grease stain smudged on her opposite cheek, but Lex didn't attempt to warn the mechanic, knowing it would be a waste of breath. Minerva barely looked up from the gadget before her, instead choosing to smile distractedly and answer carefully, "Good day to fly too, but we all know how that goes."

Lex froze, and she felt Oakley stiffen slightly beside her.

"I suppose you're right. I don't have much to sell today, and I see you got a new shipment. Fare well, alright?"

"Aye, you too. Ten cuidado, Younger."

Oakley gently touched Lex's back, and she nodded in farewell to the young stall owner, feeling her stomach roll. She didn't watch as Oakley exchanged his own farewell, and on the walk back home, she stared at the cracked and littered pavement below her boots.

The walk home was quiet, the pair lost in thought. Lex was relieved when their home came into view, and she quickened her pace. She wanted to bury herself in a ton of paper, feel the familiar plastic grip of an ink pen as she drew lines and shapes. She wanted distraction. She wanted peace.

She ignored the part of her that knew the obvious faults with that plan, since she was tired to having to only think about scrounging dinner for that night, taking care of their mother, taking care of Oakley, remembering to breath before she finally fell asleep.

She wanted to lose all thoughts about returning to the square once again tomorrow.

As if sensing her thoughts, Oakley patted her shoulder in comfort and left to head to the garage, most likely to keep his own hands and mind busy with his machine parts.

A sliver of Lex felt terribly guilty because her original plan to buy more parts for Oakley was ruined so quickly, but a bigger part of her knew it was the right decision. It was not safe there, and she hoped Oakley valued safety over his project in the garage.

Tomorrow I will get the parts at Minerva's, Lex told herself.

Of course, the next afternoon, under the blinding sun, Lex and Oakley found themselves staring at the usual spot of Minerva's stall, where the only thing that remained was charred wood, and buried under the ashes was a torn and bloodied rainbow scarf.