Ghosts of Koa

Jills and Jacks

Jills and Jacks

Zeika stumbled into the mouth of the underground cavern, heaving. She had sprinted from the Converge all the way to Kingsbridge Road. Over five miles in 35 minutes. She had jetted it. Almost broke her ass a few times too. But she’d made it, and that was all that mattered.

Still reeling, she stumbled at the wide steel door and banged on it with her fist three times before collapsing onto the ground.

A rectangular space opened in the door, and a warm light filtered out, cutting into the darkness of the tunnel. A pair of large, twinkling gray eyes looked down at her, and a singsong voice twittered through. “Well isn’t that a graceful pose for you!”

Zeika smirked. “You know me, Jules, I love the dramatic look.”

The daycare assistant giggled and began to unlock the door. It was a complicated affair, as there were at least three bolts from what Zeika could see and more where she couldn’t see. When the door finally swung inwards, she rolled to her feet and staggered inside.

“Wow. You look like something a horse crapped out.” Julie snickered as she closed and locked the door behind them.

“Thanks for the vote of sympathy.” Zeika reached into her robes to pull out a wad of singles. “Here.”

“Twenty bucks? This is almost three times the weekly fee!”

“So what? Take it. Make it rain.”

“But—” Julie protested.

“Think of it as a tip. For helping to arrange the meeting with your boss. Do the kids have food?”

“Just enough to last us until tomorrow’s breakfast.” Julie eyed her warily. “I mean, daycare fees have been coming in pretty slowly lately—”

Zeika reached into her backpack and took one of the plastic containers out. “Share it.”

“What the hell, Z?” Julie crossed her arms, her face firm. “Is this a tip, too? Trust me, I don’t need it. I get plenty of those on my job.”

Zeika shoved the container into Julie’s hands. “Not sure if anyone told you, but cheese sandwiches don’t count as tips. Not even in your line of work where the mayo is free, if you get my drift.”

Julie smirked and rolled her eyes. “Oh go screw yourself,” she muttered, giggling. “They can actually be pretty nice, some of them. Lonely, war-torn, lookin’ for a willing ear.”

“That isn’t all they’re lookin’ for, girl,” Zeika said, smiling.

“You could make a really good living, you know. They love ‘em dark around here. Reminds them of Azure-livin’. Reminds ‘em of home.”

“Thanks, but I’ll pass. I deal in one too many vices already. I can barely walk into a church without exploding into flames.”

Julie hunched her shoulders, suddenly sheepish. “Guess you’re right. I know you’re not exactly a fan of what I do—”

“Hey.” Zeika waved her off. “I wasn’t judging. Really. I don’t care what you do. We all have to survive out here. All I care about is that you’re safe. You know?” 

Julie grinned off her embarrassment and hugged her. Zeika hugged back, tight.

“Don’t worry,” Julie whispered. “I’m safe. I’ve made sure of it. Okay?”

Zeika nodded in response, her throat tight. When the Civic economy had finally collapsed five years ago, they both left school to go work at the Lakeside Diner, but life had soon taken them to different careers. Julie’s parents had been social workers and had gotten caught in the middle of some flying shrapnel on a peace mission in the beyond. Koa had bombed some Azure councilman’s motorcade, and while the Azure himself had survived, but many others didn’t. Word had it that Julie’s parents had been on the sidelines of the procession, protesting Azure occupation of Civic Demesnes. Bombs never had the right names on them, though. Zeika would always give Julie her tips to help her out, but it wasn’t enough. Eventually, she had to leave the diner and support herself in a job that’d singlehandedly pay the bills.