Resurgence

Chapter Two

Nyra Quinn awoke to the sound of gunshots outside her bedroom door. Paying little mind to her pounding heart, she swiftly rolled to the ground, placing a finger on the scanner of her gun safe tucked beneath her bed, and pulled out her loaded pistol. Rising to her feet, she stalked toward the door, her senses sharpening with each step. Pressing her left ear against the peeling plaster of the bedroom wall, she realized the gunshots were too muffled to be real...and was that—laughter? The fear surging through her veins quickly gave way to momentary relief, then anger.

Starting across the hall of her cramped, two bedroom apartment, she made her way to the slightly ajar door, from which flickering lights and hushed male voices leaked into the dim hallway. Moonlight and crisp night air dripped in from the cracked window, simmering her fury before stepping inside.

A collage of mismatched monitors, propped onto fold-out tables forming a makeshift L-shaped desk, lit up the cluttered room before her. Strings of LEDs, pulsing in sync with the video game's audio, strobed across the littered floor, casting the mess in shifting hues of color. And there sat her 12 year old brother, fixed in the midst of it.

"Bro, cover me! I'm reloading!" Nyra rolled her eyes in disapproval as she silently critiqued his gameplay.

"Ari." She called, leaning against the doorframe, her arms crossed in front of her chest.

"Dude, he's one shot. Just finish him!"

"Ari." She tried again, a bit louder this time.

"I swear that guy's hacking, just watch the deathcam."

"Ari!" Nyra stepped forwards and flicked him hard in the back of the head, causing her brother to whip around and face her. He rubbed the sore spot and furrowed his eyebrows in annoyance.

"Hey! What was that for?" Ari whined, setting the controller down in his lap and scowling at his older sister. She could hear the wails of his friends over the comms, begging for him to return to the game, but he didn't reply. He just sat there, waiting for her to scold him.

Nyra stared at him, baffled at how unaware her little brother was of his surroundings. Not only had she entered his room without him noticing, but it was also clear he had no idea how late it was. She shook her head, glancing at the PulseBand around her wrist.

"Ari," she said, her voice heavy with disbelief, "do you even know what time it is?"

He blinked, and rubbed his eyes with the backs of his hands. "I dunno... midnight?" he guessed with a half-shrug, as if it didn't matter.

Nyra sighed, tapping her PulseBand. A neon green holographic image of a digital clock illuminated the space between them.

"It's three in the morning," she corrected, her tone stern. "And you didn't even hear me come in. You're completely zoned out." Nyra tapped once more, causing the clock of light to dissipate, revealing a rather defeated Ari. He slumped in his seat.

"We've talked about this," Nyra crouched before him on the balls of her feet and placed her hands on the armrests of his chair. "What if I wasn't home? What if I was an intruder?"

"But you were home and you're not an intruder." Ari spoke, putting emphasis on the words were and not by dragging the syllables lazily.

"And what have I told you about not wearing headphones? I'm tired of waking up at the crack of dawn mistaking this apartment for an active warzone."

Despite Ari's cranky retorts, Nyra could tell he was sorry. Not for playing of course, but for scaring his sister. He was old enough now to understand just how much she had sacrificed for them—for him, for his future. Ari had been only an infant when their parents were taken, caught up in illegal weapon smuggling in a desperate attempt to support their struggling family. Nyra, barely a teenager at the time, had been too young and powerless to stop it but mature enough to grasp the gravity of their situation.