Ash (16 page)

“I don’t know,” I said gently. “I just thought I could find some answers.”

“And did you?” she asked, gripping the jersey tight.

I shook my head no.

Tears streamed down her face. “You destroyed his room. This was all that was left of him, and now it doesn’t even look like his.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re always sorry, Dax.” Her voice shook. “And you’ve always got some kind of reason, don’t you? So why don’t you answer this. What kind of world takes one son, then the other?”

I should have kept my mouth shut, but she was staring at me—waiting. I had to say something, anything to make it better, for both of us. “Destiny can be unfair sometimes,” I said, hoping they would be the right words.

They weren’t.

She stared at me. “You want to talk about unfair destiny?” she said, her voice growing louder. “Unfair destiny is being told that having a daughter is your destiny. To have baby after baby—all boys. And to finally have the girl, only to be told she’s a Blank.”

Anger spiked through me, but I pushed it back down. To keep talking would invite a fight that I didn’t have the energy for. I swallowed anything else I could have said and walked over to where she was still crouched on the floor. I reached out to help her to her feet, “Come on, Mom.” She stumbled up, and I steered her out of Aldan’s room, down the hall to her own. “It’s time for bed. We can talk about this tomorrow when you’re feeling better.”

“Better?” she whispered. “Tell me how can it get better? All of my boys grown up and moved on. Aldan dead. Link in jail.”

I didn’t have an answer for her. I didn’t even try. “Goodnight,” I said instead. I walked away, stopping off in my room to change out of Laira’s dress and into my usual pants and shirt, then slipped out the front door and into the night.

I
caught the next train east from the UV station and settled into a private compartment in the Purple car. It had been almost a year since I took a connector zone ride. Sure, I had jumped on the Purple line to get from NoPur, the northern border between the Purple and Crimson ring, or to SoPur, the southern border—but going from Purple to a bottom ring was a whole different animal. This was a real commute, not just a shuttle ride, and called for the proper amenities. Fortunately, the Purple car was well equipped. I ordered an energy fizz from the porter and gave him a generous tip to ensure my privacy. I then activated my tracker’s sound cloud. Immediately the background noises of the train were muted, and I was surrounded by a protective layer of Beethoven.

We pulled away from the Center Lake, and my home beside it. Below the streets were lit brightly enough to imagine the sun was still overhead. The shining skyscrapers soaring up from both sides of the rail only added to the effect. I watched them go by in an aggravated stupor. It was incomprehensible that Link would think
my mother
was a non-believer. I’d get to the bottom of the restricted articles soon enough, and when I did, I’d march right back into the holding cells and explain. Maybe that would help him shed his disillusions.

A few minutes later the buildings began to lose height as we sped past the eastern border of the Purple zone and into Crimson. I turned the geolocator on my wrist tracker off as we approached the East 2 stop, wondering if I would receive a fine. It was illegal to disable the locator feature, but Purples were generally given a pass, and I could afford the fine if it happened. It wouldn’t do for my father to find out where I was going tonight.

The rail sliced directly through the bustling center of the Crimson zone, but tonight, the usually raucous bars and clubs were subdued, and the bright lights seemed somehow harsh instead of energized. Had the race turned out differently I’d be here now with Bas and the rest of our friends celebrating. Say what you would about Crimsons, but they definitely knew how to throw a good party.

Another stop later we were in the Green zone. The buildings were closer to the ground in this ring—most not higher than ten stories—and I could see the moon now, round and bloated, resting on their tops.
The area surrounding the rail was mostly residential, and the apartments were made from recycled plastic and solar roofs. They weren’t particularly pretty, but Greens hadn’t paid for energy since the ministry created the homes during the rebuilding. It was one of the many reasons post-Event zoning had been so efficient.

The next stop, East 4, brought us to a residential section of the Yellow zone. There was no one on the streets, but I could see the lights on in some of the buildings we passed. The ministry planned to renovate this area soon, but for now, most of the architecture still relied on aluminum and solar panels. Link’s home was out there somewhere, but I’d never visited. One of the many issues in our relationship. Past relationship, I reminded myself. I shook my head, growing angry all over again.
No one could make me lose my temper as quickly as Link Harris. He had a soft spot for the lower rings that could become downright absurd if his family was brought into it. I understood he came from a mixed ring home, but he was a Destiny Specialist. He, of all people, should have understood that certain individuals were destined for certain paths.

I looked out the window as we approached the Brown zone, still fuming. The other thing about Link was that he could never be wrong. Today’s conversation was a perfect example. He’d brought my mother into it to prove a point, and once I had the truth I’d squash the discussion once and for all. I took a sip of my energy drink, then returned it to the windowsill ledge, noting how close we were to the East River. The Brown zone was the last on the main island of New City. It looked about the same as Yellow, though lower to the ground, and darker.
The zone was mostly populated by minor Trigger destinies, the kind of destinies that weren’t great by themselves, but could cause something to happen. A ripple in a pond. I’d been trained to give the Browns some respect. Even the best Destiny Specialists could occasionally misdiagnose the importance of a Brown. It was a rare occurrence, but I’d seen the stories on the news. Like Argo Eta who was destined to pull a lever. During a maintenance call to the New City Blank Ward he witnessed ‘the uprising.’ The Blanks had overtaken the guards, demagnetized the gates, and were about to make it out, when Argo managed to pull the emergency security lever. The alarms were sounded and the force field reactivated. If it wasn’t for Argo, the Blanks would have headed straight for the UV and who knows what might have happened then. Despite his unfortunate death, he was made a post-mortem Purple, allowing him to die with the utmost dignity and respect. I let out a sigh. The exact opposite of Aldan.

As we neared East 5, I once again pinged Sol. This was the last stop before the overpass, and I still hadn’t heard back from him. I pressed my lips together and considered getting off the train and turning around. But I didn’t. I needed to find out about my mother, I reminded myself, and this was the quickest way. The train came to a stop, and an overhead sign flashed that we’d reached a transfer to the agricultural or AnaKurtz sector. There were transfers involved to get there? When I gave my speech, I was driven to AnaKurtz. I couldn’t imagine taking this commute every day. How time consuming.

As the rail zipped over the water we seemed to float in the darkness. I looked back toward the island we’d left, my reflection superimposed over the twinkling buildings. It was beautiful from the distance, like a steep, glittering mountainside, rising quickly from the banks of the Brown zone to the crests of the gleaming skyscrapers of the Purple. I focused back on my own reflection. I fluffed my hair a bit and looked at my face with satisfaction. My cheekbones were still perfectly defined, my lips still red. Nora’s work would remain intact for another three days if I chose to leave it on. The marvels of modern science, I thought.

We soon crossed the water and entered the Slate zone. I knew this area was enormous, though I’d only visited once before. The factory lights in AnaKurtz gleamed in the distance. Beyond that were farms, though you couldn’t see them at this time of night. A memory came to me unbidden. I’d been seven when we’d gone to an orchard in the north on a class trip. We’d picked apples. I’d always been competitive and had quickly gathered the largest quantity. I reported my success to my father that night, begging him to take me back the next day. But instead of congratulating me, he threw the fruit in the trash. He told me the area was no place for a Purple, and I couldn’t go back. There’d been a new teacher when I’d returned to school the next day. In retrospect, I understood, if somewhat reluctantly. The sector wasn’t a play zone, it was where work was done. Taking a group of Purple children so far out of their ring, especially without a proper chaperone and explanation, just wasn’t appropriate. I looked down at my wrist, triple checking that my geolocator was disabled. I was no longer a child, and I didn’t need my father to treat me like one if he found out about my trip.

It would be three minutes until I’d arrive at the Ash stop. I took down my sound cloud and enabled the atlas feature of my tracker, making sure to keep my placement hidden. I then opened my hand and projected a tiny holographic map onto my palm. I set my purple dot to begin at the Ash train station, then forwarded through the directions that would lead me to Sol’s doorstep. It would take eight minutes from door to door. Easy enough. Though walking in four-inch heels would never do. I adjusted my heels down to the ground level mark. I hated being this short, but I hated sore feet even more. The porter was nowhere to be seen as I exited my compartment, and I whisked out the sliding doors of the train, the holographic map now flattened into a bird’s eye view. I opened my palm again, checking the directions. Straight onto Park Street, right onto Downing Way, left on Ashton, right on Avenue D.

The Ash platform was deserted as I walked out. A holograph of a much younger Dr. Og smiled as I approached. “Welcome to the Ash ring, one of the most important, hard working areas in our system today. As you know, all rings are vital to the success of our world, and all people are vital to…” The holograph cut out for a second, then began the loop again. ‘Vital to the rings,’ I filled in. It was one of Og’s most famous quotes. I made my way down the stairs and onto the street. Though street, I thought, was being charitable.

I wrinkled my nose and lifted my dress from the dirt covering the cracked and broken concrete underfoot. A steady breeze blew from the west, from the river. I shuddered involuntarily, looking down at the ground more closely. The tragedy of the Event had been drilled into us at Spectrum. The surrounding area that had existed before New City formed had lost nine million people alone, and the majority of the bodies had been transported by underground subway—now known as the Tombs—to Sinderlock Island for cremation. Due to some trick of the coastal wind coming up the river, the residue from the fires skipped over most of Slate, instead dusting the Ash ring.
Quiet, Madden,
I told myself in annoyance. The dirt on the ground was just dirt, not the ashes of my ancestors.

The thin pools cast by overhead streetlights did little to ward off the darkness, and I walked down Park Street with care, doing my best not to trip over the broken pavement. The buildings to either side of me were made from the same dismal gray concrete as the street, and they all appeared to have been constructed from a two-story, rectangular mold. The business signs in front were their only distinguishing features. Despite the hour—only 8:37—most lights were off and doors and windows barred. There were few people on the streets, and all turned to stare as I walked by. I felt my heartbeat beginning to increase, and I realized for the first time that this might have been a bad idea. My purple dress was a burst of color through the gray and although its cut had been perfect for the championship, I now felt like a moving target. I held my head up and did my best to appear indifferent. It was one of the earliest lessons I’d learned. People only reacted when you gave them something to react to.