Playing With a Full Deck: Stories of Hope in Hard Times: Aces High, Jokers Wild, #9

By O. E. Tearmann, Salma Ahmed, L. M. Kate Johnston and 3 more

Sometimes life deals a bad hand.

But it's all about how you play the cards.

 

Solidarity in the face of oppression. Songs in the dark. Finding hope in spite of the odds. Thirteen stories set in the dystopian universe of the Aces High, Jokers Wild series keep fighting the good fight in the darkest of times. Characters from the pens of O.E. Tearman, Michael G. Williams, Alex Silver and their colleagues haven't been dealt good cards in life. But in these pages, they show us how to play the game.

Maybe they can even show us how to win.

INCLUDING THESE INCREDIBLE STORIES
Burn Card
Tomorrow Will Come
After Hours
The Square Dance Rap
Bad Hand
Follow The Lady
Midwives
Bottom Dealing
Draw Out
Come Tell It To The Mountain
Fill The Pot
All Amped Up
Call the Clock

• Language: English
• Publisher: Amphibian Press
• Release date: Jan 20, 2024
• ISBN: 9781949693454

Book preview

A black and white logo Description automatically generated

TIMESTAMP: 05:30-11-02-2155

Shit.

What? Kevin sat up in bed, resting his chin on his boyfriend’s shoulder. Without his glasses, he could just make out Aidan’s arm and a glowing blur that was probably a tab.

Damian just forwarded me this when he got on duty. Here. Aidan’s fingers pushed his glasses into his hand. He put them on and read.

Message Handle: Sector40MED

Message: Personnel Required To Appear For Psychological Evaluation:

Officer Kevin Ruairi McIllian, 1407

Officer Steven Lazarus Smith, 1407

Officer Elizabeth Marie Carlan, 1407

Specialist Yvonne Louise Flesher, 1407

Specialist Sarah Monique Flesher, 1407

Administration Of Evaluation: 11:30-11-04-2155

Administering Staff: Stephen Petree, Sector Medical Officer

Please Assign Duties Accordingly

Evaluations Are Mandatory

Damn. Kevin sighed. Rolling over, he flopped back onto his side of the bed and stared at the ceiling. His fist thumped the mattress. Damn, damn, damn. I thought we’d dodge that in light of all the accolades we’ve had of late. That unit commendation, in particular.

You knew this was coming? Aidan asked.

Kevin waved a hand vaguely. I didn’t, but I’m not surprised. Bloody Quinn. When we…well, to be blunt, when we pranked him off this base, he threatened to send us all up for psychological evaluations. Looks like he made good on his threat. The paperwork must have been working its way along all this time. He sighed. Or it may have been Adams who reported us. Or the one who was only here for three days before Liza got rid of him. Samuels. That pedophilic little toad. It might have been him.

For a beat, the room was silent. Kevin closed his eyes. He should have warned Aidan about the fallout that was the result of three worthless interim commanders who constituted that miserable interregnum between Taylor’s last day of duty and Aidan’s first. He should have said something. Now silence hung between them.

Um, Kev… When Aidan spoke, his voice was tentative.

Yes?

How do you say your middle name?

Kevin had to laugh. It’s pronounced ‘Rory’. A family name, it’s Irish. I believe my mother’s grandfather carried it last.

Aidan nodded. Okay, Irish. That why it looks, um… weird?

Indeed, Kevin agreed. He pushed himself up and out of bed. A very ‘weird’ language, Irish. Now, about the note. Best thing for us to do with that summons is to get it over with, you think?

Probably, Aidan agreed, giving him a tired smile. Better not have failure to report for a psych eval on everyone’s records. He sat up, elbows on knees, and considered. Raising his eyes, he studied Kevin’s face. Kevin waited on his word.

Before you guys go up, let’s sit down and get depositions from everybody, Aidan said eventually. I can turn in your side of the story, ‘cause I’m guessing you didn’t.

We weren’t really in the mindset for paperwork at the time, Kevin acknowledged. Liza did turn in a few reports. The rest of us…

Went the pranking route. Yeah. I got briefed before I took over, Aidan interjected with quiet humor. Levering himself out of bed, the blond man grabbed his binder, fighting with the fabric. Kevin stepped in, helping him hold it closed as he got his chest adjusted and zipped up. I’ll get it coordinated and scheduled, he offered. Won’t be a problem.

Thanks, Aidan murmured. You gonna be able to convince the med staff that Lazarus and Yvonne aren’t nuts?

I’ll certainly give it a shot, Kevin murmured, stealing a kiss.

♠

Timestamp: 11:30-11-04-2155

The sector medical bay’s interview room smelled of cordite and disinfectant. Across the table, Petree started up his tab and gave the date. He was a fussy little guy, fiddling with everything: his stylus, his tab, everything. No wonder he was going bald, if he fussed that much.

Specialist Flesher, do you consent to this interview? Under the table, Yvonne picked at her cuticles.

Yes, sir.

Do you consent to being recorded? Yes, sir.

Petree jotted something on his tab. Then he set his stylus down, and stared at her. Can you tell me why you’re in this office?

There was a jittery little sound, and Petree slapped his tab flat against the table.

Specialist, you do realize you’re tapping your foot hard enough to jostle the table?

Yvonne gulped. Sorry, sir.

Do you know why you’re being evaluated, specialist? Yvonne bit her lip. "Was it…the sheep? It was the sheep,

wasn’t it?"

Petree jotted a note. Can you tell me about the sheep? Uh…yeah. Sure.

♠

"Fuck! Adams has got to go!"

Lazarus flopped onto the bed between Yvonne and her wife. You said it, Barbie, he muttered, flicking his knife in one hand. There’s one way to get rid of him for sure.

Yvonne snorted. Yeah, we heard you. I’ll put a grenade up your ass with the pin pulled if you ever hit on my cousin again. 

Sarah rolled over, resting her head on Lazarus’s chest. Did he seriously…

He did, Yvonne agreed, snuggling into the comfort of her cousin’s draped arm. First he pushes way more work on us than anybody can do, makes a pass at every femme on the crew who’s anywhere near his age, and then he basically says ‘get your subordinate to suck my dick and maybe I’ll lighten up your team’s workload’ when Kev says we need to let up on the grid runs.

Oh yeah. He really said it, Sarah’s words were dazed. I didn’t imagine it. He really did that, in front of everybody.

He really did, Lazarus agreed. He really did. Complete fuckwad.

For a moment, the three of them were silent. Only their breathing and the metallic flick of Lazarus’s knife punctuated the silence.

We can file a report with Sector Integrity. Sarah stated flatly. Joint report. Back each other up.

Lazarus snorted; enough said on how he felt about that. It can take months for that to get anywhere, Yvonne

murmured, voice small in the dark. What’s going to happen in between? What’s he going to do next?

Silence.

Slowly, Yvonne sat up. Hey, Sarah? You think Liza recorded all that shit he said in the canteen?

Sarah shrugged. Probably. She’s good like that. You still in touch with Kitty?

Well, yeah, Sarah agreed, a little bewildered. Yvonne turned to her cousin.

Laz?

Yeah?

You’re supposed to do security detail for Adams at the end of the week, yeah? We’re supposed to go up to the sector hub as a unit?

Laz eyed her thoughtfully. You got an idea, Eevie?

Kevin looked like he was this close to losing it. Even his lips had gone white. Yvonne was so damn proud of him when he managed to grind out ‘yes, sir,’ instead of clocking the dickface.

Good, Adams smirked. You’re learning. Yvonne heard Kevin’s knuckles pop.

Quin swaggered his way into the sector meeting. And froze.

"We all know what girls like these are good at. So how

about you do a little sweet talking, tell them about the perks of being in favor with Command, and…" Adams’s recorded voice ambled out of an inflatable sex toy in the shape of a very fat white sheep. The painted words on its side glistened.

Property Of Commander Adams

Use Me Next Time You’re Horny!

Under the sound of Adams’s own recorded voice incriminating him, quiet laughter rippled through the room. Somebody nudged the sex toy with a foot. It bleated.

Adams went brick red.

Gently, Kevin’s hand squeezed Yvonne’s shoulder. By unspoken agreement, the team stepped back into the hall.  They barely managed to get out of there before they all cracked up laughing.

♠

Petree consulted his tab. I understand that Commander Adams requested transfer after this incident?

Yes sir, Yvonne agreed. No duh, he transferred. That had been the point of the inflatable sheep.

And that he was brought up on charges of inappropriate conduct with a subordinate and dismissed from duty, based on this incident. Petree added, scrolling on his tab.

Yvonne blinked. Yes, sir? I didn’t hear about that, sir.

Petree cleared his screen. It’s not important to this evaluation, but I thought you might want to know. Over the top of his tab, the sector medical officer gave her a tight smile.

Officer Smith? Do you know why you’re being evaluated?

Laz wished they hadn’t made him hang up his knife. He felt naked without it. He snapped his fingers to keep his hand busy.

I’m guessing it was the toilets. It was the toilets, right? Or was it the tar and feathers? Or the painted pussies all over that twat’s truck? I mean, Samuels earned that one.

Petree scribbled on his tab like a prairie dog nibbling a seed. The toilets. I don’t have a record of this incident. Can you tell me what happened?

Lazarus grinned. Sure! See, it was like this…

♠

The bastard was at it again. Now he was having Topher clean the baseboards with a toothbrush because the kid had come into the base with muddy boots. Fuck this, Lazarus growled to his cousin, watching from their shadowed corner against the wall. Topher’s got a metric shitload of jobs backed up on the printer, and the guy pulls him off work for this shit. He’s wasting all our time on his unit-discipline power trips.

"He so doesn’t get it," Yvonne agreed, watching Quinn

hang over Topher like a vulture waiting for something to die. She sighed.

We gotta get it through to him; he keeps pushing and something’s gonna break, Lazarus muttered.

Yeah, well. He keeps pushing, we just keep pushing back until Quinn wears out, right? Yvonne asked, smiling up at him. Her smile was a good front, but her eyes were hurting. Lazarus wanted to fuck Quinn over for that alone, never mind how much the cocksplat was pushing everyone. If they kept working at this pace, somebody was going to die.

Know what, Eevie? What?

Lazarus flicked his knife. I think it’s time we take this up a notch. Your room tonight, kay? Let’s talk.

They talked half the night. By oh-four-hundred, they had their plan.

Okay, so, tomorrow? Lazarus glanced between the girls, grinning. Operation Oust Dictator’s a go?

They gave his grin right back. Hell yes, Yvonne laughed. They started with Sarah showing up topless to duty and saying it was ‘dress down Friday’. That got everyone hours of pointless make-work, sure, but it also got them a sweet minute of absolute shock from Quinn. They went with snappers out of Lazarus’s munitions supplies the next time Quinn gave useless orders. The little explosive caps were the perfect wakeup call when they were tucked under Quinn’s mattress, popping off when the guy’s weight compressed them and making his room sound like a fireworks display.

Even that didn’t make the underfed buzzard transfer out,

which sucked. They’d been so sure that’d do it.

They moved up to flash bangs under Quinn’ chair. Still the fuckwad stuck around. He kept on pushing more work on them than they could do in a day, kept up the pressure and cut everything that made life worthwhile.

This isn’t working, Yvonne sighed after another shittastic week. We gotta try something else.

Something big, Sarah groaned. Get him off our backs already!

I got an idea, Lazarus offered. Let’s see how he does with his pants around his ankles in front of the whole base.

Yvonne and Sarah rolled over, and grinned at him. Tell us what you need.

Lazarus grinned right back. "First thing, bags of mustard.

The little kind, like you get at restaurants."

It was easy: all Lazarus had to do was put sample-size bags of mustard under the seat of each toilet in the men’s hygiene room and tell the rest of the guys to use the girls’ room for a bit. And wait. It wasn’t long before there was a loud farting sound out of the men’s hygiene room, and a scream of rage. Leaning out of the munitions room, Lazarus watched the show. Mustard dribbling out of his pants, Quinn stormed down the hall and grabbed the first person he saw by the shoulders, shaking her. Bad luck for him, it was Janice.

I want everyone in the canteen NOW! All of you are going to learn what happens when you disrespect your commander!

Janice stepped in and rammed the idiot up against the wall, arm across his turkey neck and a knee pressing all her weight into his groin. Lazarus grinned, taking in the show. Anybody dumb enough to try to grab Janice deserved what they got. Quinn had earned this.

Clotheslining the guy’s throat, Janice poked him in the nose with her free hand. Listen up, you sorry shit-sucking excuse for a human. You ever fucking touch me again, and I will put a wrench through your motherfucking skull and find out what kind of shit you’ve been using for brains. Savvy?

Quinn was tall, but he was skinny as a rake, and Janice was no joke in a fight. Quinn took the smart route and made a little ‘ack’ of agreement. Janice gave one last good shove with her knee. Good. Remember that. Then she let him go and stepped back, clomping away. Behind her, Quinn crumpled.

Nobody showed up to answer the summons he sent a while later. The crew had learned what to do with Quinn when he threw a tantrum: ignore him.

Still trying for a power move, the asshole stamped into every one of their offices and tried the loom-and-intimidate thing. Based on what he said, he sti! didn’t get it. And that was okay, until the vulture got to Kevin. Quinn swept down on him in the chow line with a face like something out of a mummy exhibit.

Officer. I intended to speak with you earlier. You were not in your office.

Apologies, sir, Kevin stated in a voice so neutral that it sounded mechanized, I was attending to my duties.

One of your duties is to be available as your superior officer requires, McIllian, Quinn rasped out. I will not tolerate this attitude.

Lazarus swore he heard the twang when Kevin’s patience snapped. Slamming his tray down, Kevin turned on the man like a puma warning an eagle off his kill. With all due respect, sir, he snapped in that tone that Laz parsed as ‘you don’t deserve any’, given the number of missions and the volume of tasks you’ve lumbered my people with, I’m surprised you can find anyone in their office when you’re in the mood to impose your will upon a cowering victim. If you’d like us available at your beck and call, I suggest you reconsider the amount of work you’re assigning and realign whatever absolute fantasy is playing in your mind with human reality and standards of humane leadership.

For a moment, the room was dead still. Nobody said a word. Then Quinn stepped in. I shouldn’t be surprised that a boy like you decides this is too much. If you want to be in this army, you’ll grow a pair and deal with it. Savvy?

And what, exactly, do you mean by that? Every word

Kevin spoke was cold and razor-edged.

Quinn’s corpse face creased in a smirk. You know what I mean. Pansy-boys always want easy duties. Too bad. Not on my watch.

Lazarus put a hand on his gun. Janice palmed a wrench. All of them watched Kevin, waiting on his word. If he gave it, they’d finish this homophobic cocksplat.

But Kevin didn’t move. Even his lips had gone paper white.

Who I take to bed does not define what duties I can perform, he stated in a voice that should have left marks on Quinn. "And who you choose to shame does not make you a leader. We are soldiers, not slaves. You’re not our master. So drop the autocratic act before it gets one of my people killed."

Quinn shoved Kevin back. "Your people?! They’re my command! You think you can give me orders, you little homo, you—"

Kevin lashed out and laid a punch like a poem right on the bastard’s chin. Quinn stumbled back, eyes narrowed. Before he could go for Kevin, Lazarus had leveled his gun at the man’s nose.

Touch him again and they’ll never find the bones, he stated, voice dead. Quinn, moron he was, opened his mouth.

Enough! Liza’s voice cut the air. Striding into the middle of the firefight waiting to happen, she threw her arms wide. Kevin, stand down! Lazarus, down arms. Do it. Now.

For a heartbeat, Liza stared at them, and Lazarus stared right back. The tension ached in his gun hand. But Liza was right. This wasn’t worth it. He holstered his gun.

Drawing a breath, Liza turned to face the enemy. Commander Quinn. Sir. Please step back. I’d like to de- escalate this situation.

For a moment, the room was frozen. Then Quinn turned on his heel. You’re all on report. The base is on half rations for three days. When you show the proper discipline, more rations will be provided. His shoes clicked as he left the silent room. Then Lazarus holstered his gun. That’s it. He’s gotta go.

We need to level this up, he sighed at that night’s meeting. Go with something huge. Something that’ll really make this asshole throw in the towel.

Sarah and Yvonne glanced at each other.

For that, we need Kev, Yvonne replied quietly.

Point. Lazarus nodded

♠

And that was a week before your former commander requested transfer? Petree asked.

Yep, Lazarus agreed, slouching in his chair. Is there anything you’d like to add? Nope.

Petree sighed. Officer Smith. What message did you mean to send by your behavior?

Lazarus snorted. Dude, stupid question.

You fuck with my people, you get fucked. Simple. I see. Petree’s stylus scribbled.

♠

Officer Carlan. Do you know why you’re in this office?

Yes sir, Liza agreed, keeping her gaze trained on the poached-egg eyes of the medical supervisor. It was the incident with the knives, sir. I filed my report sir.

All the same, can you tell me a bit about the incident with the knives?

Yes, sir. Of course, sir.

♠

"Yvonne, Sarah, let me go, I need to get out there and

exterminate that pedophilic son of a — Kev, baby, put it back! Stoppit!"

Kev! Quit! It won’t help! Seriously, stop already!

You can’t shoot a commanding officer, man! Sarah looked like a child, clamped onto Kevin’s arm and dragged along in his wake. Yvonne was fighting to keep herself glued to his other arm, the one he’d pulled the gun with.

Watch me, Kevin snarled. "I will obliterate him. I will shoot him in the head and throw his body down an arroyo to be dismembered by coyotes. I—"

Enough! Gripping her friend’s gun hand, Liza nearly yelled the word into Kevin’s ear. Down arms, soldier. That’s an order.

Kevin shut his eyes. For a beat, Liza was terrified; not by her friend, but for him. Kevin would commit murder in this frame of mind if he got a bead on Commander Samuels. And he’d never live with himself after that.

Fucking Samuels. Three days the little toad had been here, and already he’d gone miles over the line.

Breathing deeply through his nose, Kevin holstered his service pistol. When he opened his eyes, they were flat silver, cold as dry ice.

"He goes. Tonight."

He does. I’ll make it happen, Liza agreed.

Slowly, Kevin nodded. Liza returned the gesture. Turning on her heel, she strode down the hall.

Samuels was standing in the kitchen, giving Andrea a talk about something or other; the rest of the crew were eyeballing him as he harangued their cook. And he was right next to a wall. Perfect.

Liza pulled four throwing knives from their pockets in her sleeves. All those hours of throwing practice had been worth it. She pinned the slimy little toad to the wall with four quick flicks of the wrist. Blades through cloth only, but he’d feel the cold metal a hair from his skin. Good.

Striding up, Liza pulled her belt knife and held it against the little shit’s bobbing adam’s apple.

"The only reason you’re breathing is because this is a food preparation area my unit eats from, and I don’t want to pollute it. You convinced teenage girls, girls under the protection

of the Wildcards, that they have to give you sexual favors in

order to get to safety. If you’re still on this base by the end of the week, I will personally slit your throat and Andrea and I will turn your body into ground chuck. And if I ever hear a

whisper of you coercing refugees again, I will castrate you with

one slice and carve the word ‘pedophile’ into your forehead with this knife. Are we clear…sir?"

There was a whimper from the man, and the sound of dribbling liquid. Liza glanced down, and sighed. Andrea? Grab a mop. He pissed himself.

♠

Ah. I see. Yes, your current commander filed a full report on the incident. Petree scrolled. I see that the refugees were contacted for comment.

How are they doing? The refugee girls, I mean.

Petree glanced up, his screens reflecting blue off his bald patch. He made a little ‘hm’ noise in the back of his throat.

Interesting that your first question is about the refugees.

Liza gave a small shrug. It was always about them, sir. Not about us.

Petree studied her. I see.

♠

Officer McIllian. Do you know why you’re being evaluated? Classic tactic, let the subject incriminate themselves.

Kevin leaned back in his chair, affecting his most unruffled manner. Oh, a series of unfortunate reports, I imagine. But I suppose the tar and feathering was what stood out with particular salience.

A series of reports? Petree peered good-naturedly at him. Why would you expect a series of negative reports, Officer?

Kevin shrugged. Given the interim commanders we endured, it’s to be expected, sir.

Endured? In what way?

Holding up his fingers, Kevin ticked off points. It was, admittedly, a rather thespian gesture. But if the man was going to ask obvious questions for show, he would give his answers in the same vein.

We were trained and inculcated with the concepts of equality, dignity in service, and solidarity by one of the best men I’ll ever know. We lost him. And then we had three wastes of rations foisted on us after the loss. The first was a horse’s ass more fitted to concocting hazing rituals at some frat house than leading a unit of the Democratic State Force. The second was a sleazy little letch who coerced sexual favors from vulnerable girls. And the third was a sadistic, homophobic disciplinarian who believed he could whip us into shape. The operative word being ‘whip’. Commander Taylor taught us too well to allow us to accept their pathetic excuses for leadership. We filed reports, of course. But reports take time to enact their form of retribution. We needed something more immediate to prevent further damage being done to our fam— He caught himself and cleared his throat. —our unit. He shrugged. With that in mind, the senior officers of Base 1407 made sure the interim commanders felt the urge to relocate.

And how, exactly, did you ‘make sure’? Petree asked, as if he didn’t know.

Kevin smiled. Oh, creatively. Hence the tar-and-feather trick.

Petree lifted his stylus. Feel free to elaborate. So Kevin did.

♠

Quinn. He’s gotta go, dude.

Agreed, Kevin murmured. The question is how. He tapped his fingers on the bedspread. We need to utterly humiliate him. He’s a prideful man. Shame him thoroughly enough, and he’ll walk away and find somewhere to succor his pride.

Okay, great, Sarah agreed. So how?

Let me think…let me think… Kevin pulled off his glasses, cleaning them with his cloth. You’d think he’d have left by now of his own volition; after all, we mix like oil and water, and…

He blinked. Sitting up, he snapped his fingers as the idea struck him. Oil! Oh of course! Perfect.

Dude, you skipped a bit, Lazarus observed. Kevin smiled, acknowledging the point. True. Sorry. Alright, the next maneuver of Operation Oust Dictator goes like this. We need gun cleaning oil, and the recording of a drone flyover alert. Oh, and washable glue, and a couple bags of wall insulation. And then…

♠

Three in the morning crept through the base on cat feet, perfectly silent. Until the drone alert blared. The corridor filled with the thunder of feet as people poured out of their rooms dressed in whatever came to hand.

In nothing but his boxers, Commander Quinn came out of his room like a vulture taking flight…and hit the slick pool of gun oil laid out in front of his door. He slid right into the ladder with its bucket of glue and open pillow case of insulation. The improvised bag puffed out its contents as it fell. Fluffy whiteness floated like the seeds of a mutant dandelion.

The ersatz alarm shut off. A hush enfolded the hall, freezing them all in tableau. Every eye was on the gently settling cloud of white.

From the mess arose a feathery white monstrosity. Not an inch of Quinn’ skin could be seen; he’d been thoroughly coated in glue, and the insulation had stuck to him beautifully. For a moment he swayed, mouthing, utterly bereft of words. Kevin started a countdown in his head. Explosion in three…two…

When Quinn went off, he nearly matched the faux drone alarm for tone.

Batshit! You’re all batshit! You’re all Fringe bait! Unfit for duty! I’ll report you all to psych! None of you should be in this force! You’re all completely insane!

Holding the tab he was using to film the rant, Kevin grinned, shooting the prick a salute.

♠

I see you’re smiling, Officer.

Kevin cleared his throat. My apologies, sir. It’s…well. A fond memory.

Petree’s lips pursed. If Kevin was right, the medical officer was hiding a smile. The stylus scribbled.

♠

Timestamp: 1020-10-14-2155

It was a tense week, waiting on Petree’s report. Finally, finally, the note showed up.

Your psych results are in. My office, after lunch.

-D

It was all Kevin could do to remain in his seat and work through the morning. He stayed in his office through lunch; no sense sitting and picking at rations he wouldn’t be able to swallow.

Then there was the long walk down to Damian’s office, tension drawing every muscle into a wire.

He’d told the truth. He’d said what he needed to say. If Command didn’t see those actions as sane…well. So be it.

Liza met him outside the door. She gave him a tight smile. He patted her shoulder. Then they both stiffened their sinews and walked inside.

Damian stood like a basalt obelisk as they gathered, sheepish penitents before their judge.

So, are we bugnuts? Yvonne asked, trying for peppy and missing the mark. Reaching over, Kevin gave her shoulder a squeeze.

Damian parceled a slow look out between them. I’ve read the report.

And? Kevin asked, stiff as a board with nerves. Spill, dude! Lazarus exclaimed.

Slowly, Damian brought out his tab and flicked up a holographic window, letting them read. Well, I happen to know for a fact that you’re all certifiable. But you’re also cleared for duty. Clean bills of health for everyone.

Kevin breathed, feeling the release of tension untying knots all through his body. With a little cheer of delight, Yvonne grabbed him and Lazarus in a hug.

Yay! We’re sane!

On paper, Damian observed dryly. But he smiled when Kevin glanced his way.

A black text with black lines Description automatically generated

TIMESTAMP: 1:00:00-11-24-2155

My heavy breathing felt like the only sound in the world. I was running as fast as I could to evade the EagleCorp drones chasing me. Luckily, the perks of defying the system included learning the ways to defy it. One of them was to run in random lines when you’ve got drones after you.

It’s a good thing that I can’t do anything straight, I laughed to myself.

For some reason, I decided that was the perfect time to look behind me. Dumb? Yes. Definitely yes, since they were right behind me. I would have loved nothing more than annoying the shit out of the drones as they tried to catch me. The sad reality is that they have batteries, and I don’t. They can recharge themselves in seconds; I would probably need half an hour to start functioning again.

Son of a bitch! I whispered as a bullet hit the place my foot had landed a second ago. One second later, and I would have been done for.

Rounding the corner, I gained some momentum. An actual wooden sign on top of the entrance to a small shop caught my eye. Guess Lily’s Bakery was my hotel for tonight.

I noticed the bell hanging above the door from the inside, and as I reached the bakery I opened the door a little bit and managed to hold the bell with my left hand as I eased myself in.

I crouched behind the counter, lifting my head slowly to make sure the drones didn't see me. The buzzing machines circled around a bit, but eventually they split off to right and left. Guess the Corporations didn’t spend enough money after all. I heard their rotors fade away.

Then I heard another sound.

Sshnk!

For some reason, I can recognize the sound of a knife moving through the air, and it didn’t need a genius to guess that I’m probably what it’s aimed at. I turned around slowly.

Who are you? a girl asked me as she held a knife—I guessed correctly—pointed at me. Her hands were shaking.

I threw my hands up. Look! Look I mean no harm—

She moved closer still, pointing that damned knife at me.

"I will call the Peacekeepers!"

I laughed. Like really laughed.

"Honey, this