Pass The Baton: Part 1

Chapter 1.2: Goodbye Rashatta

She was not going to miss this apartment building - the smell of rotting fish that festered in the hall, the water dripping down the ceiling, and the constantly yelling neighbors. Even tonight they were at each other's throats.

"Good riddance," Redha said, shut the door, and it jammed behind her. "C'mon, even the last time?"

She tugged once, twice, and yanked back with the entirety of her weight. The wood frame cracked as she slammed the door shut.

"HEY!" her fighting neighbors stomped and yelled from above, "KEEP IT DOWN!"

Redha bit her tongue. Another fight with Crystal and she'd miss her tight schedule. Red ran down the stairs, the wood creaking with each step.

"I SAID-"

"Yeah, yeah, I HEARD you Crystal!" she yelled back, running out the front door.

She stepped out the same time an old diesel truck sputtered past her, spewing a black cloud of smog into her face. She coughed a fit, waved the exhaust away, and pulled a mask from her bag. It was wishful thinking to expect clean air.

The streets were as filthy as ever, and even the low hanging fog couldn't hide it. Junkies sat on raw, cracked pavement, with tiny patches attached to the back of their necks. Reality bending drugs seeped into their spines, and plastic casings lined the storm drains. They were high on Dreamweaver, staring into space, dreaming of futures they'd never have.

It broke Redha's heart seeing them. Interstellar drug lords peddled Dreamweaver and milked junkies raw. They were stuck here, abandoned like the rest of Earth. There were no jobs, no supplies. The only way to a future was in space, and the only way to space was the lottery.

People were desperate, and desperation ran all hours of the day. Even then, at midnight, junkies gambled on a golden ticket. The only store still open on her block was Rashatta's Corner Store, where the same junkies begging for food were dropping pennies for a ticket.

"C'mon Rashatta," one of the junkies pleaded, hunched over the counter, "Just one ticket, swear I'll be good for it next time."

The older man with his wiry mustache and frayed hair kept his arms crossed. "You said that last time." He noticed Redha walk in, made eye contact, and nodded for help. She knew the sign - he asked for her help before. She checked her LINK and had a few minutes to spare.

What she had in mind, wasn't the same as him.

"Hey Rash!"

"OH, Redha!" He ignored the junkie and turned to Red. "Yes, how may I help you?"

"I still have some credits left, right? From the trade-in?"

"Yes, would you like something? Maybe-"

"Yeah, can you get him a lottery ticket please."

"...um."

"Use whatever I have left on my account. I won't need it."

The junkie looked as surprised as Rashatta looked irritated. Yet he plugged a lottery chip into the register computer, watched it flicker with a holographic spinning number, until it settled on 1313.

"Here you are," he said with disdain. "...good luck."

The junkie took it from him with a glint of light in his eyes and his hope restored.

"Wow... thank you! What's your name?"

"Redha," she shook his hand.

"Bonzo."