Ghosts of Koa, The First Book of Ezekiel Read online

  "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.

  Beautiful Julie. Her innocent eyes, sweet face, and Midwestern charm was what got 'em, but it also made men think she was a punching bag. She'd come over to Zeika's house one too many times with bruises and sprained limbs. Her ballet buddy since kindergarten, best friend since grade one, and partner in forced truancy since grade six. One of her most loved friends, lost to the war in the beyond, just like she was.

  Julie parted from her. "Your stuff's behind the kids' cubbies, and the bathroom's all set up for you," she said. "The toilet, uh, will unclog itself."

  "And the shit will rise to the top." Zeika winked. "Got it."

  "Behave yourself in there. Don't break anything."

  A smirk and wave of Zeika's hand vaguely acknowledged the warning before she walked to the cubbies and pulled out a long, heavy bag from behind them. She shook it, hearing the comforting clanks of metal on metal from within. Then, she did a few curl ups with the bag to test the weight. Thirty pounds. Just right, just like she'd left it.

  She went to the bathroom to wash up. There was no door to it, just a long curtain that shrouded a speck of a room bathed in broken florescent lighting. Two toilets and two sinks sat squat in the L-shaped space, and a cracked full-length mirror hung on the only free wall. The wolf moon insignia on the back of her robes slipped in and out of her view as she passed by the mirror, and when she turned to face her reflection, the crack in the glass split the dark mocha of her face in two, right between the eyes.

  "Koa implicated in the disappearances of Civilian children."

  The headline fluttered at the top of the looking glass, freshly inked into the newsprint. This was the eleventh time she'd seen it around Demesne Five in the past month. A new record, but one that no longer surprised her. So long as kids kept disappearing, daycares had been put on special alert just in case any of the missing heads turned up. Thus far, though, no one had seen a thing.

  And they never do, do they?

  After she had officially dropped out of school for work, it hadn't taken her long to realize how invisible she was. People barely noticed ghosts of war like her and Manja-- shadows hiding beneath the moon-emblazoned sheets that were supposed to protect them. No one watched as they slipped in and out of the dark, picking their ways across fields and mines and death to support their families. And no one ever found a ghost once one had gone missing.

  So she studied them. Their faces, the bright and yet sunken eyes, how their round cheeks darkened beneath the dusks of their hoods... just in case she saw one. In case she could bring one home.

  Missing: Jonathan Espinoza-Quinn.

  Civic status: Civilian.

  Male. Brown eyes, brown curly hair. Latino. Missing since January 23, 2153. Current age: 17 years old. Last seen at the Converge, crossing from Demesne Five into Demesne Six for work.

  Missing: Michael Cray, Langdon Cray, and Clinton Cray.

  Civic Status: Civilian.

  Male identical triplets. Blue-gray eyes, blonde hair. White. Missing since March 2nd, 2155. Current age: 9 months old. Last seen at the home of their parents, Lynne and Jeffrey Cray. FOUL PLAY SUSPECTED.

  Missing: Sofia Green.

  Civic Status: Azure.

  Hazel eyes, dark brown hair, splotchy birthmark on left cheek. Black / African American. Missing since March 19th, 2155. Current age: 9 years old. Last seen in the playground of Rose Hill Lot 36, Demesne Seven. Last seen wearing pink overalls and a blue shirt. Patchy birthmark on upper left cheek.

  Any information leading to the recovery of Civilian ghosts of war can be anonymously delivered to:

  Guild #5 of the Civic Order, The Guild of Almaut

  Demesne Five, 40.81167, -73.846323

  Phone: +001 718 792 9736

  For leads on Azure ghosts of war, please direct all information to:

  Guild #51 of the Alchemic Order, The Halls of Deis

  Demesne Fifty-Two, 9.436797, 99.957685

  Phone: +66 77 915 888

  Zeika lifted her fingers and touched Johnny Quinn's picture. He had a serious and handsome face in this one, and yet it was only partially reflective of the one she'd seen every day.

  She forced her eyes away from his face and frowned as she took in the rest of the wall. The ad for the missing Azure child, Sophia Green, had been centered and swollen with a large bold font. Stained with a background of yellow dye, it shone brightly beyond the other missing children ads, which lay scattered around it like graying, dead leaves.

  Zeika jammed her hand into her pocket, snatched out her waitress' pen, and put it to the ad. With a deadly arc, she sliced ink through the words "Alchemic Order" and wrote capital letters in its place: CABAL. What had happened to Sophia was tragic, but it didn't erase the truth: there was nothing 'ordered' about the Azures or their Alchemists. They were just a bunch of rich thugs.

  A toilet flushed. It was the one farthest to Zeika's left, and it gurgled loudly, like its throat was clogged with gobs of toilet paper and--

  "Shit! Damn, girl, you should've told me you were coming early. I would've put on my Sunday's best." A voice as smooth and as slimy as moss rose above the toilet's wet roar, resounding off the walls of the bathroom.

  Here we go. I'll try not to "break" him, Jules.

  Zeika sighed as she walked towards the stall, peeking in just in time to see the large slab of wall tile moving upward. A secret door to an old speakeasy, and through it glided David Kohler, or "Wavy Davy", as some on
his circuit now called him. Zeika leaned against the wall outside the stall and crossed her arms, looking at him critically.

  He must have gotten his style from the history books of hustlers because the fool was completely out of context. Shiny finger waves set against pale skin, like a black sea on a white sand beach. Three gold teeth, which often switched places on different days, were set in a mouth that used to kiss all the girls. He always dressed up, and today he sported a dark red shirt, unbuttoned to the navel, tucked into a gaudy, gold-plated belt and black slacks. Polished gators on his feet. But none of the trimmings could hide the deep crags in his face, or his yellowing eyes, or the nervous tics in his fingers, all lingering specters of heavy drug and alcohol use.

  Zeika tried to feel sympathy for him but came up empty. A lot had happened since the economic collapse, and even more had happened last spring, when the Azure raids began in the Protecteds. A lot of people-- friends, neighbors, workers, good Civilians-- had plummeted into some messed up places. Davy hadn't been one of those good people, though. He'd always been a creep and outcast, slinking around the streets of the Fifth. But the man who was once garbage was now godly. The recent darkness that had been cast over the Protecteds allowed vermin like him to thrive, and he did so on the very vices that now gripped the indigent. The streets on which so many had passed him by were now his domain. Poor, desperate girls clung to him for his connections and for work, and he controlled all of them. Julie was one of many in his stable.

  "Hello, David," Zeika said, not bothering to mask her disgust.

  "That's my name, the prettiest and wittiest. But look at you! You looked so tired when you got here. Outta breath. Why don't you come through to the other side and get comfortable?" He stepped closer as he said this, his gaze sliding to places they shouldn't, especially for a man his age.

  She rolled her eyes at his suggestion. "I'm not a working girl. I assume Julie told you that already."

  "Yeah, yeah, but she didn't tell me how fine you'd become, either. Mm!" He bit his lip, a gold tooth protruding from his crooked grin. He looked like some broke-down comic book character or something. "Time flies like a goose from Christmas dinner! One minute I'm cheering you on at your ballet recitals and martial arts competitions, and next thing I know, you're all woman and wiggle."

  "Look. I don't generally do business with pimps. So let's get on with it. I'm already struggling to re-swallow my lunch."

  "Pimp?" He laughed and shook his head. "That's a filthy thing you're callin' me, baby. Me, I'm more of a manager... a manager of lovely ladies of leisure."

  "Whatever. Manage your dick out of our business, and we'll do just fine." She threw the bag down at his feet, its contents clanging together. "Everything you asked for. Where's my money?"

  "A business woman. I like that." Davy reached into his pockets, produced a thick roll of green, and started counting it. "You know, you ain't always gotta bring the bag, girly. You got some zippers of your own to sell that I'd pay real nice for. Others too--"

  "Keep counting, David. Four hundred, clean."

  "Ah, come on, I count dough in my sleep. We can talk."

  "We have nothing to discuss except the exchange."

  "Oh, we got plenty to discuss! What? Don't act like you've never bartered your God-given slice, baby. We all know where you got that work pass from. Now you think your shit's too hot to swap with civvies, eh? Think I can't afford it? Azures ain't the only guys that get to be treated nice, you know."

  "What I think is that you wouldn't know what to do with it. You couldn't come if I called you."

  Davy paused in his counting, look at her, and scowled. Zeika never broke her gaze. Inside, she hated it, talking and acting that way. Hustling meant she couldn't be the best of herself, but worse would be to end up like Julie: bouncy, cute, and getting her ass handed to her every night. In order to be taken seriously, to keep both her and Manja safe, Zeika had to be rock hard. This was the lay of the land now, this was the game, and if she wanted to stay a step ahead, she had to speak the language. She often wished she could be softer... but out here, soft didn't survive.

  Guess Davy bought the tough girl act because he sneered, breaking their gaze to look back down at the money. He shook his head before starting his count again, pretending as though he hadn't lost his place. "All you civvie bitches, swinging from the Azure boner branch like fuckin' monkeys," he muttered. "And now you're all used up, the lot of you. A sad world we're in when Jills can't get it hot for their own Jacks."

  "Yeah, because that's the only time when the world gets sad, right? Get over yourself. Hand me the money, and get the hell on."

  "Yeah... because you need this money, don't you?" Davy looked up, smiling slyly. He'd finished his count and was now looking at her with a carnivorous gaze, like a cat who'd cornered a rat.

  Zeika regarded him with suspicion, suddenly very aware of how small the bathroom was, of the fact that she was leaning against a wall, of how he was slowly halving the distance between them. She tensed, watching his movements.

  Don't do it, asshole. I really don't want to hurt you.

  "The mighty have fallen, yourself and your Papa included, baby. So you'd better play nice," Davy continued, still advancing. "The meek like me have inherited the earth. We're highly favored. 'Specially me. So many good things just gravitate towards my energy--"

  "Like flies are attracted to shit," she said, making a face. "Yeah, totally. I can totally see that."

  "You come work for me, and you ain't gotta flip another waffle ever again in your life. I'll take care of you."

  Zeika extended her hand, waiting for the money, but Davy kept on.

  "I've been real nice letting the daycare use my secret place, haven't I? Someone's gotta pay up, right?"

  Hairs raised on the back of Zeika's neck. Somehow, it didn't sound like he was asking. It didn't look like it, either. Davy's eyes danced, as though the machinations of his mind had suddenly turned diabolic, cruel.

  "If you don't wanna pay, then that's fine," he said, grinning. "But I see you gotta cute little sister in there. I'd give her about three or four more years before--"

  She reached into her robes, but Davy was faster, grabbing her arm with one hand and pinning it against her body before she could draw her field knife. His long fingers tightened around her neck, and air rushed out of her chest as he slammed her into the concrete wall. The bulky contents of her pack dug into her spine as he pressed on her.

  "Get off me," she seethed.

  Davy's grin widened as he squeezed, and though he thought he had the upper hand, Zeika could feel it, the control slipping away from her second by second. She struggled to keep herself from walking through that door, but he'd just threatened her, threatened Manja.

  "I'm warning you," she snarled again, ready to let loose. "Get the hell off me, or I promise you'll regret it."

  Davy got close to her ear, rubbing his nose against her cheek. She squirmed as his stale breath condensed on her lobe as he whispered into it. "You smell really good," he said. "Like desperation. Tell your Papa if he's serious about doing business again, don't send his pretty little jailbait kid to negotiate. Gets me... distracted."

  Laughing, he let go, and she pushed him off her, snarling.

  "Go fuck yourself!" She rubbed her throat as it opened again, allowing her to breathe.

  "I wish you luck with that too, baby," he muttered, lighting a cigarette as he picked up the duffel bag. He tossed the wad of cash he owed her in the sink. "But don't forget to send me a video of it, eh?" Cackling, he disappeared into the wall of the stall with his package, the tiled door sliding closed behind him.

  Zeika shuddered and grabbed the knob of the money sink, turning it on full blast. She splashed her face and neck trying to get his stench off. So gross. It was bad enough that Civilian girls had to keep their guards up against Azures. Civilian guys weren't much different sometimes. It all sucked, really, but Zeika had chosen not to dwell on it,
at least not until today. Ugh.

  Her face dripping, she turned off the faucet and pocketed all five hundred dollars' worth of bills as they floated, not caring that they were soaking wet. It was just as well. She didn't want Davy's grease on her money, either.

  "Hey you." Julie stepped in, timid in her walk. "Got what you came for?"

  "Yeah, and more than that." Zeika wrinkled her nose, still feeling the icky warmth of Davy's body on hers. "Thanks, though. I owe you one." She walked up to her, coming in close. "Listen," she dropped her voice to a whisper. "About the daycare space..."

  She explained what had happened with Davy, repeated what he'd said about Manja. Horrified, Julie agreed to move the daycare across town-- today-- to one of their old stations until they found a new space. The kids' parents would help to move the classroom supplies later. She apologized the entire time, blaming herself.

  "Stop, Jules. Stop taking responsibility for all these assholes," Zeika said, forcing a smile. "Please."

  Julie nodded, but cast her eyes down. "Yeah..."

  Zeika grinned, suddenly unable to hold it back: "Plus, you got some other 'holes' to worry about--"

  Julie laughed and shoved her playfully. "You're such a bitch, you know that?"

  Attagirl. Keep smiling.

  Warmth filled Zeika up as Julie hooked her arm around her neck and walked her back into the daycare.

  Simply laid, the one room cavern was just big enough to hold the entire class, with some extra room for limited movement. Crates of children's books, bundled sleeping bags and floor pillows, battered toy trucks, patchwork dolls-- they all lined the craggy walls. Children's kitchens and tool shops kept lopsided vigils nearby. Even hanging loosely on the wall was a mini chalkboard where the children could use colored chalk to draw pictures. A few adult-sized chairs were scattered around, but besides those, the thinning gym mat on the floor was the only soft spot in the cave for sitting.