A Volatiles Claim

Framed

             "I get to the final rooftop of the race and the guy is trapped on top of a venting system with a group of biters surrounding the bottom. So, I take care of the infected, and as soon as I am done another guy who looks exactly like the one who challenged me to the race comes out of nowhere and is frantically checking on the other. I almost thought I hit my head till I realized that they are twins and have been scamming people with their games." Aiden talks about his most recent adventure, and I can't help but notice the happiness in his voice. Almost as if he hardly had anyone to talk to about the things he has seen and done.

"And what happened to the money you gave them in the beginning?" I hum out, most of my focus is on tending to the survivor laying in a recovery cot with a fever. I gave him the usual herbal mixture we use for fevers a few minutes ago so now I am keeping track of his temperature while replacing the wet towel on his forehead every so often.

"I let them keep it... granted that was a big amount." He pauses for a moment like he is second-guessing his decision. "But no, it's alright. I've been exploring all the nooks and crannies of the districts and I've sold a lot of valuable items."

My eyebrows raise in surprise. "That's really generous of you, Aiden... though you need to be careful. There are many bandits lurking practically everywhere, especially after their camp was taken over. That and desperate people..." I can't help but worry for my adventurous friend, not only for always selling valuable items and storing his money on him but for another reason.

Aiden and many top officials of the Bazaar are planning something, something big involving the PK. I can only hope it won't end in something nasty even though it most likely will, but I don't have the time to worry about it since we are extremely busy. And by 'we' I mean Veronika and me. Lately, we have been getting swarms of survivors coming to the infirmary with an array of injuries, most are from pk interaction. We are slowly starting to see the extent of their restlessness in the form of them stopping any survivor from the Bazaar and... 'interrogating' them. If it wasn't from the PK, the infected are the remaining causes of their injuries. Because people are starting to notice that they would more likely than not get injured by PK during the day, some have started traveling and doing errands at night. They must be desperate knowing full well what types of infected roam the night.

Luckily things have slowed down a bit, but all of the recovery cots are taken by survivors with major lacerations or blunt force traumas; all except for the man battling a fever. Since there isn't anywhere for him to sit, Aiden has planted himself on top of the desk we use for relaxing and doing paperwork. He is waiting for something involving Vincenzo, that much I know because every so often I would catch him looking at the Craftmaster workshop like he is expecting something. He won't tell me what's going on, all I get when I ask what is being planned, all I get is, 'don't worry about it, just focus on helping the people here.' He says this all with a straight face though his eyes say he wants to tell me but he can't.

I know Aiden has the tendency to jump right into things with little to no planning, and some part of me thinks that he is going to the PK base to do something drastic, but the more logical part of me knows he isn't that reckless. So, if it's not that, and most likely they aren't planning to talk things out because that ship has sailed long ago, what could it be?

"Hey, Marcus..." Aiden's sudden nervous tone has me look at him in an instant. "Do you know anything about these things called 'Sparkercards'?"

My body tenses as soon as the word registers in my brain. I quickly turn my body away from Aiden and act like I'm tending to the patient but in reality, I'm trying to calm my breathing. It seems like a movie is playing in my mind, one that is sped up and reminds me of all the tainted experiences related to Sparkercards and... him. 'Even after all this time, he still manages to make me feel as though he has a grip on me.' My mind is struggling to comprehend that I am safe and that he is probably dead somewhere.