The Ordeal

Chapter Two

By the time I drop off the cash pouch and pad in the designated lock box it's after dark and I have to be extra careful on my way home. Mechas prowl the streets at night, looking for people to rob or worse. I weave through side streets and vacant buildings, staying out of sight. It's a huge relief when I see the apartment building where we live.

It's an old-fashioned soft story, still standing thanks to retrofitting after the Big One hit nearly twenty years ago. The owner couldn't afford to keep it up and offered to sell it to the current tenants for a greatly reduced price. Now it's collectively owned by my dad and our neighbors. As long as we contribute our share of the upkeep we don't have to pay rent or mortgage.

But the way my dad's business is going, I wonder if we'll be able to do that for much longer.

I walk down the back alley to the stairs that lead to our door on the second floor. The complex is old and needs a new paint job, but we take great pride in keeping it in good condition. My dad always says that in a hard world like the one we live in, you have to fight to carve out a home, a place where you can retreat to and be safe. To his credit, we've been able to do that so far.

I tiptoe up the stairs and get out my key. I told my dad I was out with Kris but I'm home after dark so he'll be worried. Maybe if I'm lucky he'll already be asleep and I can go straight to my room without having to lie about where I was.

I slip the key in the door and gently twist the knob. The door sometimes sticks in the frame but this time thankfully it slides open. I quickly step in and close and lock the door behind me.

The light is off in the living room and the door to my dad's room is almost closed, so it looks like I'm in luck. I silently take off my shoes and make for my room.

I can see just enough inside my dad's room to make him out, sleeping on the left side of the ratty queen bed that I remember he and I salvaging from an abandoned building a couple blocks north. It's been two years now since mom left, with no explanation and no trace, but he still sleeps as if there's someone in bed next to him.

If I stay and look too long I won't be able to sleep tonight, so I continue ahead towards my own room.

It's small, barely bigger than a broom closet, but I've managed to make it my little oasis. My dad and I installed a Murphy desk that folds down from the wall, since there's not enough room for a real one. I put in LED strips around the ceiling that can turn the room any color I want. I've stacked two reclaimed mattresses for extra bounce. The only good thing about the poverty in the Basin is that when people do get fed up and try their luck elsewhere (although I've never heard of things being any different, or better, anywhere else) they leave most of their stuff behind.

I sink into my bed without changing my clothes, sighing with relief but also exhaustion. I know my dad wouldn't approve of what I've been doing, but I also know he doesn't have anything to offer in its place. What does he expect me to do? Help run a failing store for the rest of my life?

I fall asleep dreaming that my bed and room have expanded into a giant master bedroom, like the one in Thorne's house. Someday...

I slowly wake up to a hand gently nudging my shoulder.

"Leander, time to get up."

My dad's voice is deep but soothing. I keep my eyes closed and pretend to still be asleep just to hear him call me one more time. He always does, even though I know he can tell when I'm actually still asleep.

I open my eyes slowly and see him sitting on the side of my bed. The room is still dark so I can't make out his face, but he's already dressed and I know he's already had his first coffee and what he calls his meditation time, although we don't belong to any particular religious faction.