It took two hours to reach the district. She’d been forced to rest every twenty minutes to catch her breath and rest screaming muscles. The sun had seared her cheekbone and nose so badly it hurt to squint or smile. She didn’t need a mirror to know the burns were pink and raw and would probably peel. Birdie whined every time they left the spotty shade of half-dead trees. The dog’s short white hair did little to shield her fair skin, but the working harness gave her some protection at least.
From atop a low hill, Auri got her first look at the district. The homes and shops were clustered in a square layout. From this far away, the buildings seemed well maintained but unoccupied. No children played in the streets, no men or women hurried along with errands to run or jobs to do. Not even any stray dogs roamed about. It was as if everyone had just packed up and left. Something was very, very wrong.
Movement at the corner of her eye made her turn. Over fifty teru teru bozu swung from the branches of a shrubby tree on the district’s outskirts, their little ghostly-looking bodies suspended upside down. Legend claimed that hanging teru teru bozu could stop the rain. Or, by hanging them upside down, rain would come.
She’d tried the trick as a kid during monsoon season on Rokuton, but it hadn’t worked. Despite the sweat turned to itchy salt on her skin and her beleaguered state, the sight of the little figures made her smile. She stopped before the tree to take a breath. It wasn’t until a breeze sent the teru teru bozu dancing that her eyes widened.
The reverse side of their off-white fabric was stained with flecks of dried blood.
A chill scuttled down her spine. “What is this place?” she asked the dancing figures, reaching out to still one’s dance.
A stained, lopsided sign behind the tree answered her question.
Uma District
Population: 101
Suddenly Auri knew why the name seemed familiar. This settlement had been struck by a cannibal attack. The case file claimed that a single man decimated the district’s entire population, using shrapnel bombs to maim or kill and then feasting on the bodies.
She’d intended to travel here from the beginning.
The drone of approaching engines made her spin around. A mid-sized transport vessel approached from the opposite direction and descended toward the open center of the district. Birdie growled low in her throat, lowering her head. Auri ducked under the tree and held a hand up to shield her eyes. The transport ship was shaped like a falcon, wings spread wide. Which is where it got its name. All Falcon Class ships were government sanctioned, usually responsible for carrying supplies from the outer planets to Babbage, Aurora, Rokuton, and Attica. These people would help her. The thought of shelter from the sun, a shower, a fresh change of clothes… She almost moaned aloud.
Even still, she wasn’t supposed to be here and didn’t relish the crew’s reaction when she introduced her cyborg self. So she entered the town cautiously, keeping the landing ship in her line of sight.
A dirt street split the settlement in half, the hard-packed earth lined with self-filtering and self-distributing rainwater collection bins. The sleek metal seemed at odds with the “old Earth west” vibe of the surrounding buildings. Loose pebbles skittered under her feet as the ship touched down. Auri ducked behind a pharmacy, her back pressed against rough wooden shingles. She wanted to scope out the crew before she begged for help.
Auri and Birdie stuck to side alleys, the main street always to their right. The settlement was small but seemed a tight-knit community. The homes themselves were nearly identical, sharing same rectangularly narrow, single-story design, likely only holding two bedrooms at most. Even if she wanted to, Auri would be hard-pressed to squeeze through the tight gap between each home.
Voices reached Auri as she stopped behind a house facing the square. This home was even more dilapidated than the others, siding coming off in chunks where some animal had made a nest. Succulent stumps occupied its window boxes, now barely recognizable as once-living plants. The back door had been smashed in and the smell of rotten meat wafted out. Auri clapped a hand over her nose and mouth. She pressed herself against the side of the house, far away from the nest. Birdie waited at her back, her nose twitching as she fought a sneeze.
“Retreat,” Auri hissed before the poodle gave away their position. If the smell drifting from the house was bad for her human nose, she couldn’t imagine how intense it was for Birdie.
The poodle didn’t hesitate; she trotted three houses back and laid in the shade.
Auri turned her attention to the crew lounging about the exit ramp of the ship.
There were only three people: one man, one woman, and a young girl with an umbrella. The girl looked to be around eleven years old, her head shaved bald. The man and woman sat on the ramp’s end, their legs stretched out before them.
“Why does he do this every year?” the woman asked. Her beautiful copper skin seemed to soak in the sunlight. Her hair was long, the left side tied in a myriad of braids.
The man shook his head, his blond hair and pale skin a contrast to the woman’s. “Don’t ask me. I always thought he was a weird one. Blame his blood type. Me, I’d avoid Uma like a vengeful lover with the spots.”
The woman’s lips quirked in a rueful smirk. “Ever had a vengeful lover with the spots?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.”
The girl turned toward Auri suddenly, her shaved head cocked under the bright yellow umbrella. She wore a traditional yukata dress, her bare feet poking out of the hem.
Auri froze. Something about the girl’s eyes seemed off. She couldn’t be sure from this distance, but the shape and the way they reflected the light—
The girl’s gaze narrowed.
Auri scrambled back, knocking her cyborg elbow into the side of the house. The synthetic skin tore, revealing flecks of metal underneath. Great. As she eased away from the building, her heart prepared to gallop straight out of her chest. She held her breath, listening, but the girl didn’t audibly alert anyone or approach.
Something felt off about the group, and Auri wanted more intel before waltzing up and asking for help. She turned to the poodle, who was rubbing her back into the dirt. Auri rolled her eyes.
“Come,” she whispered to Birdie. “Come here.”
Birdie groaned as if it all was a great inconvenience and trotted over.
The two followed another road a meter back from the main street that ran parallel to the ship. Auri intended to circle the vessel and come at it from the back. She could check out the rest of the district and maybe learn something more about the ship and its crew.
She passed a crumbling stone church on the outskirts, all the stained-glass windows shattered. Dead trees lined the exterior of the broken picket fence that enclosed the building. A lopsided gate, suspended by a single hinge, opened into the cemetery. Tombstones stretched out in every direction, arranged in neat lines like a miniature army prepared for war. There had to be almost a hundred people buried here.
The district’s entire population.
A man knelt before a tombstone near the dilapidated fence. His hands were tight fists at his sides, muscles tensed through the long-sleeved black thermal he wore.
Today was Obon, she realized. A small part of her knew she wouldn’t be able to send her “I can’t make the Festival” ping to the GIC. But the danger of her current situation lessened her fear of being court martialed. Whoever these people were, they had flown to Uma District so this man could pay respects to a deceased family member.
She would love to question this man about what he knew about the attack.
He raised a towel from a basin of water and rang out the excess. Droplets rained into the small bowl. He used the damp cloth to wipe away the dust and grime from the tombstone until it shone. Each stroke was slow, deliberate, aching with tenderness and care.
Auri found herself mesmerized by the motion. Who lay underneath the earth? What kind of individual deserved such a deep love?
Loneliness hissed a biting truth into her ear: no one would mourn Aurelia Peri the way this man mourned. Not even the GIC or Ty. Their lives would go on as normal, as if she were a passing rainstorm on a sunny day. Quickly overlooked and forgotten once the earth dried.
The crunch of boot heels on dirt brought Auri back to the present. The man stood, the cleaning supplies gathered in his arms. He’d stabbed a single falcon feather into the dirt before the gravestone. Though she couldn’t see the dates, the name stood out in deep grooves: KESTREL TREATIS.
The man turned, gaze locking with Auri’s. He dropped the supplies. His hand darted for one of the three coilguns Auri now noticed: two fixed at his waist and one in a thigh holster. The barrel of one was trained on Auri just as her fingers wrapped around the grip of her disc. She cursed the slower, clumsier nature of her organic arm. She’d never used it to handle the disc before, trusting the faster reflexes of her robotic arm to give her an advantage. She now saw the folly of that dependency.
And so, for the second time in less than twenty-four hours, a weapon was aimed at her face.