Scion of Atlantis Ch. 05

The afternoon ground on, and by the time the subway dropped us off at Autumncrest, the sun had begun it's long slow fall into the west. Autumnvale was a wealthier, gentrified neighbourhood, where all the housing was crammed into art deco apartment buildings dating back to the 20s and even older brownstones, and the skyline immediately outside the station was dominated by a tall, three-tiered clock tower, standing tall over a high-end liquor store that was once a railway station in times gone by.

We slouched around the station until the crowd that followed us off the subway dispersed, before we stacked up on the wall beside the exit like a part of oddball secret agents masquerading as broke college kids. Rosalie peeked out down either end of the street before she took my hand and we exited onto the street, trying to look casual. We got two blocks before Rosalie realized she was still holding my hand, and released me with a murmured apology.

It was easy to stick to the neighbourhood streets. A series of overpasses made sure that the poors didn't have have to drive past the art galleries, trendy cafes and upscale clothing shops to get where they were going, but dressing down was popular enough with the locals that we didn't stick out all that much. This close to the downtown core, the subway stations were still reasonably close together, but we decided to swing wide, almost going as far west as Castle Hill before curving north. Château Colline, the fake castle that was one of the city's biggest tourist traps and gave that neighbourhood it's name, loomed on the horizon behind us as we cautiously closed in on my stomping grounds.

Once we got close to Claire, we both came on alert, keeping to side streets, alleys and walkways, keep an eye out for the grey man, or anyone who looked like they might be a Harvester. For all that their men-in-black-style outfits kept them anonymous, they would still stand out against the multitude of people dressed for a summer weekday with nice weather. That didn't mean the Harvesters couldn't go undercover themselves, but at the moment we didn't have any defense against someone in disguise other than to keep an eye out for anyone who seemed to be acting weird or examining us in particular. I wasn't practiced at that kind of thing, so I just followed Rosalie's lead, and if she had noticed anything she didn't tell me. Our newest nemesis didn't make an appearance, either. Either he was licking his wounds after tangling with Marlowe or we actually had lost him for the moment.

I led her to the back door of my building. The main entrance was out front, sandwiched between a Jug City and a Chinese take out place, but the back contained the world's noisiest freight elevator and the dumpsters we used for trash and cardboard. My landlord, a gnarled, middle aged Italian man named Ricky who only seemed to care about hockey and getting rent on time, hated when anyone used the elevator except to move in or out, but today I had bigger problems. Besides, I couldn't imagine that I was going to stick with my lease for much longer, given the trajectory my life had taken since waking.

As usual, someone had jammed a scrap of cardboard to keep the bolt on the door closing on the back entrance, and I tugged the door open with a grunt. The smell of the dumpsters hit me like a hammer, but the affect they had on Rosalie was even more dramatic. She stumbled a half step back and made an odd noise in the back of her throat, clapping her hands over her nose. I grinned at her apologetically. "Sorry, I know it's gross, but I didn't grab my keys and the front entrance is right on the street."

"It's fine, I was just caught by surprise," Rosalie murmured, lifting her hoodie up to cover her nose and mouth, then she led the way into the building while I held the door. Thankfully, the freight elevator was on the ground floor, the heavy gate immediately clanking open when I hit the call button. A moment later, we where chugging up to my floor, the elevator making periodic bangs and chugs of protest.

My apartment door was hanging open, but closed off with something that looked like police tape. Whoever set it up was lazy about it, however, and it was easy to just duck underneath and push into my tiny apartment. That might have been a trap, though, and I had to be sure. I laid one hand on the doorframe, and muttered "[INSPECT]." For a brief second, it was like I experienced by entire apartment all at once, every stick of furniture, every corner and cranny, from the contents of the fridge to the bugs living in the walls. The knowledge flowed through, leaving as quickly as it came, but I was left with the bit of information I desired.

"There's nobody inside, I think," I said, hesitantly, as I pushed the door open with my toe before ducking under the tape. Rosalie snorted before following me. "You have good instincts, you know, except for being too quick to trust people," she told me as she stepped through, "You should trust yourself more."

I shrugged, gestured at my living room. It wasn't a lot- a couple of love seats angled to face a hip-high mall-wart bookshelf and a modest flatscreen standing on a pair of milk crates that was hooked up to a battered PS3 lying on the floor. A combination of manga, comic books, DVDs and games filled the shelves. "Welcome to Chez Ozzy," I told her, as I carefully edged towards the street-facing windows and peered down suspiciously at the street below, "It doesn't look like they're following, but we should probably keep from the windows, just in case."

"I'd be willing to bet that they're tracking your phone," Rosalie said, pointing to where the smooth black rectangle with the cracked screen was sitting on the bookshelf next to my brown leather wallet and keys, hooked up to a charger. "Probably just waiting for you to make a call or see if it moves. I wouldn't trust that that's their only way of keeping an eye on the place, though, so it couldn't hurt to be careful of the windows, in case they will be making periodic check-ins."

I nodded. That made as much sense as anything. "Well, we may as well take the time to rest and recuperate a little," I said, crouch-walking along the wall until I could grab my wallet. I flipped it open and was about to take out my bank card when I hesitated, and instead flipped open the billfold and fished out a couple shiny, plastic twenties and a five. "I'll head downstairs and grab us a bite to eat and a couple drinks. I wouldn't trust the leftovers in the fridge." I was usually pretty good about eating all my food before it turned, but who knows what the Harvesters could have put in there while I was gone?

Rosalie seemed to look uncomfortable for a moment, then relaxed herself with visible effort, shaking her head. "Uh, can you get me at least as much as you get yourself?" she asked uneasily, "I'm, uh, I'm a big eater. For a girl." I gave her a nod, but she didn't stop there. "Just be careful," she said eventually, as she put down her guitar and flopped onto one of the couches, "Just because they don't seem to be watching, doesn't mean that they're not watching."

I tried to think of something clever to shoot back, something snappy to impress the woman who had repeatedly saved my bacon earlier today, and reassure her that I'd be okay, but all I could come up with was a "Yeah, sure." I hesitated at the door, stifled my anxiety, readying myself before I was prepared to head outside. At least the latch was still catching, even if there was a huge chuck of doorframe missing where the deadbolt was kicked in. I ducked out into the hall, and made for the front entrance.

As far as I could tell, there was nobody watching the building out front. All the parked cars seemed empty, and nobody in any of the storefronts across the street looked to be paying particular attention to my side of the street. As quickly as I could, I slipped out the front door and casually walked the few steps down to the Chinese kitchen. The restaurant, as usual, was a couple degrees hotter than the street outside, regardless of the front door being held open with half a brick.

The same tall, skinny, shaggy haired guy who was there every afternoon and evening since I moved in was slouched behind the counter, watching The Magnificent Seven on the restaurant's only TV. He recognized me, as I had been down here for enough easy meals since I moved to the city, although we weren't friends. "Hey man," he said, giving me a friendly tilt of the chin, "What'll it be?"

I puffed by cheeks out thoughtfully, eyeing the menu. Rosalie would have probably mentioned any dietary restrictions, but beyond that I didn't have any idea what she'd like. "Could I get two dozen steamed dumplings, two green teas and two colas?" I asked, glancing out the door while I gave my order. A full two dozen dumplings might be overkill but I was pretty hungry and hadn't eaten anything else since that hot dog Rosalie bought for me. When I turned back I could see the shaggy haired guy's eyes flickering between me and the front window.

"Don't worry, my guy, the cops cleared out a couple hours ago," he said, giving a shrug, "They asked about you, but I'm no snitch. What filling you want?" I gave it some more thought, and ordered a mix of beef and pork. "You got it, bro," he said, "Take it easy, I'll be back in five."

I turned my attention to the TV while shaggy-hair headed to the kitchen. Denzel Washington was asking the sheriff of Rose Creek if he was sure he didn't want to take Denzel's gun. I took a deep breath, and tried to relax. I distracted myself by thinking about some of what Aya had said. The guy running the shop had done me, an almost complete stranger, a real solid by not talking to whoever came to question him. Was that because he was a nice guy who looked out for his regulars, because he hated cops... or was it because he worked in a building that might be part of my demesne? I gave up trying to puzzle it out around the same time Denzel and his crew finished shooting. From my perspective, it didn't matter, I was grateful all the same.

When he emerged from the kitchen, the floof on his head tucked conscientiously into a hairnet, and started packing up my order, I looked back to him. "Hey, what's your name?" I asked, putting my bills on the counter. The order would only come to twenty-something but I already decided I was giving him the whole forty-five regardless.

"Mingze," he replied, "But if that's a little hard for you, Mingzy is fine." He paused in his work offer me a hand. I took it, giving him a brief shake. "Ozzy," I replied, and he gave me a nod. "You like westerns?" he asked, giving another chin gesture towards the TV as he finished up, balancing the two boxes of dumplings on top of the carefully stacked bottles.

"Not really, but I saw this one in theatres and I really liked it," I said as he passed me the bag and rang me up. I handed him the bills and told him to keep the change. He gave me a brief questioning look before replying with a shrug. "Don't let yourself get beat down by the black hats in your life, brother," he told me as I was headed out. I gave him a thumbs' up and replied, "See you around, Mingzy." I resolved to remember Mingzy. If I could ever get back to a new normal, I was definitely going to look out for him from the otherside.

Rosalie opened the door just moment before my hand touched the knob, once I was upstairs. "Oh, hey, were you listening for me?" I asked as I passed her the paper bag full of goodies between lengths of crime scene tape. She flushed, and stammered a moment. "N-no, it's just," she hesitated again, before admitting, "It smells great and I'm starving."

I chuckled as I ducked my way back into the apartment. "You know, it's fine if you have an appetite," I tried to reassure her, "Don't feel you have to hold back. It's nothing to be embarrassed by, and even if it was it's not like you're carrying a lot of extra weight."

By the time I sat down, she already had the box full of steaming, fat dumplings open on the couch, and bit into one with a wordless sound of delight. She seemed to barely pause to chew, taking the entire dumpling in two big bites. If that was how she habitually ate, no wonder she was self conscious. I didn't remark on it at all, and tried to keep the surprise from my face as I wordlessly handed her a bottle of iced green tea.

"Chinese food is so good," she said after taking a swig, "That's one of the things I love about living in the city, there's so many options. We should try to find some Indian for lunch tomorrow. I know a place down by the college that does a killer vindaloo rice bowl." As she pulled out another dumpling to devour, I gave her a smile. Something about her assuming that we'd still be on the run together the following day made me feel really happy.

Rosalie made the next dumpling disappear in short order, and I picked up my own, since it looked like if I didn't chow down myself she would go through the entire contents of the box like a buzzsaw. For awhile, we sat in silence, our meal accompanied only by the sounds of the street below, and some rock music being played in another apartment somewhere else in the building. Even with two dumplings in her, Rosalie hardly slowed down, and our eventual "score" was 14-10 in her favour, and even that left me feeling a little bloated. For a time after, we just lounged on my two love seats, enjoying the feeling of having had a good meal, and sipping at our drinks.

"I can tell you're sensitive about it, and you don't have to tell me one way or another," I asked eventually, watching Rosalie get comfortable laying down on her seat out of the corner of my eye, "But does your appetite have to do with your magic, or super strength, or whatever?"

She froze in mid-stretch, and forced herself to relax again. "Yeah, well.... yes," she said, hesitantly, "What makes me different isn't exactly magic. It's not exactly, you know, feminine, either." She sighed, flopping onto her side to look over at me. "I wish I wasn't different, either. Life on the otherside isn't all that it's cracked up to be."

"Feminine or not, I'm grateful you were able to handle those Harvesters so easily," I replied with my own sigh, "But I'm sorry to hear that you're not happy with what you've got." I grimaced, as I stared up at the patchy popcorn ceiling. My gifts hadn't exactly turned out super hot, so far, either.

We were quiet together for a while, but Rosalie eventually broke the silence. "I was born the way I am, to parents who had no idea what kind of genes they were carrying," she said slowly, choosing her words carefully, "When I first changed back in high school, I loved it. One day I was an ordinary high schooler, the next I was stronger, faster, healthier than everyone else." I glanced her way, and I could see her wearing a little smile in response to her own reminiscense.

"But it didn't last," she eventually continued, "I was found by a group of... people like me, who claimed to have all the answers to my questions, easy answers." I could see her joy fade. "And, well, I was a young girl who just entered into a bigger world than I could have possibly imagined. A good looking older man offered me a place in that world, and nothing comes free of charge. He had... ideas... about 'blood purity' and 'strengthening furture generations' and 'what females in the pack owed the alpha'." She fell silent again. The otherside weirdness notwithstanding, it was a familiar story, one I had heard before from other women I knew.

After awhile, Rosalie pushed herself upright. "Mind if I take a shower?" she asked me. "Of course, there should be a clean towel in the hall closet," I offered, and she shot me a thumb's up while she passed by, circumnavigating the loveseats. A couple minutes later, I heard the pipes rattling in the wall, and the gush of running water. I sat by myself for awhile, but, not having anything better to do, I walked over to my phone and plucked it from it's charger. Sure, I couldn't call out, but checking my messages and email should be fine, right?

I slid my thumb in the shape of a sigma over the grid of dots presented to me, and immediately I was alerted to two text messages and three missed calls. I ignore the missed calls, as there was nothing I could do about them anyway, and looked at the first message.

"Some cops or something came asking around at the resto for you. Bobby pissed and says your fired. Grabbed your tip out + will drop off at your mail box. -D"

Derek was a line cook from work who also liked JRPGs so I occasionally had him over to smoke a joint and play. "Bobby", or Robert as he insisted on being called, was a forty year old twerp general manager who had no fucking idea how to run a kitchen. Derek was a good enough guy, although I wasn't going to hold my breath on that tip money. Dude was as broke as I was, lived nine stops and a transfer away on the subway, and I had no idea when I'd see him next. Eventually he was going to need the cash and justify it by saying he would pay me back if I showed up, which was fine. He already did me a solid by confirming what Rosalie said earlier, that I couldn't return to my job.

The second message cut deep, though. It was from my mom.

"Are you alright honey? Got a scary phone call from someone who said they're from the police. Call me back asap love you"

With a grim expression, I deleted my message history, then removed my mom from my phone. Better to just rip the bandage off, sometimes.

I sat back onto the couch with a sigh, slumping back. I felt completely disconnected. My mom, my brother, Derek, the handful of friends I still had from high school and the few I made since the move, I couldn't contact them anymore. I had been forced, against my wishes, into a whole new, different life, one without them in it. Moving to the city was a deliberate choice to "start over", but I never wanted to disconnect entirely.

I was still reclining, feeling depressed and letting my eyes go all unfocused until the popcorn ceiling looked like it was rippling like water, when I heard the shower stop. Shortly after it was followed by the sound of damp footsteps heading towards the bedroom. I waited a little while to give her time to change, then pushed myself up to go see Rosalie. She wasn't responsible for my poor mood, but I thought that talking to her about it might help. She had to go through all this herself, at one point, after all.

When I walked into my bedroom, I found her wearing one of my t-shirts, pulling her blue hair back into a ponytail, with an anime waifu's playfully grinning face stretched over one of her modest breasts, and her nipples standing out against the fabric. The size difference between us wasn't great, so my shirt only came down to her mid-thigh. To say I had been feeling down just a few moments before was an understatement, but somehow the image before me set my veins on fire, and made me feel an urgency that seemed to come out of nowhere.

Rosalie gave me an embarrassed smile. "Sorry, but my clothes are filthy, and-" She cut herself off, her expression changing, eyes widening as I crossed the room towards her. One of my arms went to her waist, the other around her back, and I pulled her body against mine. I could feel every muscle in her body stiffen at my touch, but I continued onward regardless, pressing my lips against hers. The fact that she could have probably chokeslammed me to the floor one-handed didn't even enter my mind. I was wrapped up in the feeling of her lean body in my arms, her soft breasts against my chest, and the way that her mouth opened to accept my probing tongue. For what seemed like an eternity, we stayed in that embrace, tasting each other, completely absorbed in the moment of intimacy, her body slowly relaxing in my arms. My heart pounded in my chest like a drumbeat, counting off the seconds.