The Tides That Bind Us [AfroFuturism]

Unlikely Allies

Even in her pocking days, Zaharah couldn't function in chaos, and as she stumbled down the corridor in her sister's wake, it felt as though the lane of concrete and metal closed in tighter with every step. The hall seemed to twist and turn, glitchy and pixilated like a corrupted file. Her head filled with static, a constant buzz that smothered any coherent thought before it could form.

Her hands had gone numb, and when she stuck it in her pocket, her skin barely registered Skorpi climbing over it. Get it together, she told herself over and over. But repeating her mantra did nothing to bring the world back into focus.

"We need to stop." Pharah's voice cut through the static.

Roddi shook his head. "We need to keep moving."

"We need to stop. He's bleeding everywhere."

He groaned. "Fine, but we need to make this quick. Zaharah, Jade, do you two have anything we can use to stop the bleeding?"

"I don't know." Zaharah shook her head, the gravity of everything that just happened slamming into her like a speeding train. Her body grew weak and shaky, as though she'd been running on coffee the whole day instead of proper food. "God, this is so fucked."

"Shit," Devin hissed as Pharah and Roddi leaned him against the wall. "That bitch shot me." His shirt was already soaked through with blood.

Zaharah looked away and dropped her backpack to dig through it. There had to be something. She shoved her drawing tablet aside, tossed out a bag of plantain chips. At the bottom sat the carrying case that held her watercolour pencils and markers. Its strap was long, broad and adjustable. They just needed something to stop the bleeding.

Jade tapped her shoulder and presented a thick wad of cotton, a string and their source—a box of tampons. Zaharah took a handful and unwrapped them before butterflying the layers of cotton. They passed their makeshift medical supplies over to Roddi and left him to do dirty work.

The bullet wound was deep purple against Devin's brown skin, and the metallic scent of blood clung to him like cheap perfume. Roddi secured the cotton to the wound and pulled the strap tight. "That's the best we've got for now. Let's go."

They packed up and continued towards the vents. The musty stench was stronger through here. It clung to Zaharah's throat and sucked away the moisture. She stayed to the rear of the group, flanked by their luggage, kicking cigarette butts and discarded syringes out of their way. Demarkus had told her the older kids around here got up to some shady shit, but seeing the needles sparkling under the bright lights like glitter made her shiver.

Zaharah tucked her hands into the pocket of her hoodie and squeezed the boomerang he'd given her. Bile filled her mouth as she remembered the creeper slamming him into the wall, his arms going limp, gun falling to the floor, blue fluid leaking from his head. They had to make it out of here. For him.

Up ahead, the hall opened up into a circular room with a ladder leading up to a vent big enough for a large dog to walk through. And standing next to said ladder was Elliot. He leaned against the wall, eyes downcast, but instead of the delicate stem of a hibiscus flower, he held a pistol between his hands.

"Goddammit." Roddi said.

Zaharah skidded to a stop, and the suitcases bumped against her hip. "Shit." Trapped again. She put herself in front of Jade, same as Markus had done for them. If anyone else was going to die, it would be her. She deserved it more than anyone else for starting this mess.

"Zaharah," Elliot said without looking up from his gun. "With me."

She put her hands up, but before she could move, Jade grabbed the back of her shirt. "Jade stop." Her sister tugged her backwards. "Jade." She fisted her hands. It was hard enough giving up, but leaving Jade behind was like watching the Hurakan blow up a million times over.