First thing in the morning Graycie stuck her butt in the air and farted so loudly one of their neighbours banged on the plywood wall. Then she asked for chocolate.
‘Aw, hell no. I said we’d buy chocolate if you were good and quiet,’ Alida said.
‘I was good. You said. You promised.’
‘Nuh-uh. You got Odeene hassling us. That’s bad. Very bad. Next time I have to go somewhere at night, you be quiet and then we’ll buy some chocolate.’
Graycie squeezed out some tears.
‘That’s not gonna work on me. Just because Mum’s not here anymore, don’t think you can start being a brat.’ Mum would never back down on her threats and promises, and throughout her childhood Alida had bought every word Mum said and learnt never to call her bluff.
Graycie chucked herself down and beat the floor with her fists and feet, raising puffs of dust.
Alida coughed and waved away the dust motes. The neighbour banged on the wall again and Graycie headbutted the floor.
Alida screwed up her face and moaned. ‘There’ll be no chocolate. Today. But we do have some dosh for grub. How about we go down to the garden market and buy a couple of pieces of fruit?’
Graycie pushed up onto her knees. Tears dirtied her cheeks. ‘Can I pick?’
‘You can pick two pieces.’
‘I wanna go now.’ Graycie stood and jumped up and down. Tantrum forgotten.
They slipped on their shoes and Graycie raced ahead. Despite the messiness of the night before, Graycie was having a good day. When she was feeling well she could bounce around like a rubber ball, hard enough to take somebody’s eye out. Shame the good days were so rare.
The garden market was filled with all sorts of crops and fruit trees and surrounded by a barbed-wire-topped fence. Mum had told Alida it was originally parkland for the characters of the old city to have picnics and play sport. Apparently a picnic was when you made grub at home then put it in a basket and carried it outside somewhere to munch. People of the old city had weird ways of spending their time. Most characters in the Demi-Settlements ate and cooked their grub outside anyway so they didn’t stink up their shacks. What was the point of adding a long trip into it?
Alida joined the market queue while Graycie played in the dirt with a much younger, more robust-looking littlie. The morning was already heating up. Alida brushed sweat from her brow.
The garden was how she imagined a jungle to be. It smelt so fresh. Inside, characters with floppy sunhats instead of SunSuits pushed wheelbarrows, dug in the dirt and climbed ladders to collect ripe fruit. Some of the trees had dirty-white nets over them like enormous spider webs. The soil looked black and soft. The gardeners usually wore gloves, but if Alida were one of them she’d dig her fingers in to feel what was so magical that it could turn sunlight and water into grub.
A pair of chicks in front of Alida were speaking softly. Something about Freel and explosives and armoured trucks.
‘What are you chatting about?’ Alida said loudly. There was nothing worse than whispers to snag your attention and tickle at your curiosity like a fly that wouldn’t let you alone.
One of the chicks turned to Alida. ‘We’re trying to be discreet, love. Do you have any idea how to be discreet?’
‘Sure. What are you chatting about?’ Alida said in a loud whisper.
‘You should know all about it. Aren’t you one of Freel’s girls now?’ the other chick asked.
‘No.’ Well, that was kind of a fib. But she had only done one gig and she wasn’t at all sure that would ever happen again. There had to be other ways to make dosh. She’d had some scavenging leads, but scavenging took a long time for shit-all return. She just needed time to chew it over and sort something out. ‘It’s zero business of yours anyway.’ She supposed she hadn’t been all that discreet when she was yelling out of Ganya’s car. People would put two and two together.
The chicks scoffed and gave Alida the up-and-down. They shuffled forward a bit as the queue moved and continued talking with their backs to her. She listened closely and heard something about forcing LeaderCorp to give them all implants like the ones the Citizens had.
Alida neared the front of the queue and called Graycie over. ‘What do you want? You can pick two pieces.’
Graycie wandered over and gawked at the table. A tarp shaded the gardeners who stood there every day from sunrise to sunset, along with the goons who stood behind them with shotguns. At night hungry mutts roamed the garden to munch on thieves. Still, littlies dared each other to scale the fence, throw a blanket over the barbed wire and grab some fruit to prove their bravery. Alida had done it once, on Zave’s dare, when they were about twelve. The trees had been black cut-outs in the dark and she’d had no clue what kind of fruit she was grabbing. The barking of mutts racing towards her from the other side of the garden had been enough to send her bolting for the fence with a single hard green apple. Mum had snickered and called the two of them Adam and Eve for weeks after that.
‘Look but don’t touch, kid,’ one of the gardeners arced up at Graycie.
Graycie didn’t even flinch. She’d heard it a bazillion times before.
The gardeners were clear-eyed and rosy-cheeked. Mum always said one thing the Rewilders got right was that there was no substitute for whole foods. Vitamins and minerals manufactured in a lab and made into a sludge were just not the same.
Behind Alida a guy started gabbing on about Freel’s plan too. She didn’t interrupt this time. Just turned to watch and listen. He was several places behind her, chatting like he reckoned the louder his voice was, the smarter he’d sound.
‘Tomorrow at 8 a.m.,’ he said. ‘Freel told me himself it’s all going down then. I’m to spread the word. The explosives will be placed on trucks after they’ve crossed out of no-man’s-land.’
‘What does he want us to do?’ asked a teen with lumps under the skin of his forearms, maybe from some DIY bio-hacking efforts.
‘Stay away from the roads and bridges. Unless you’re making the bombs or hanging out at the gates to slap them on the trucks, I’d suggest staying in bed and letting the grown-ups handle it.’ The jerk winked and Alida couldn’t help rolling her eyes.
Graycie tugged at the waist of Alida’s jeans. ‘Apple and carrot.’
Alida stepped up to the table. Her mouth watered. She couldn’t see a bare centimetre of the table surface. If she had her way she’d pick one of everything. Just to try them. There were baskets of figs, grapes, passionfruit, silverbeet, tomatoes, strawberries and blackberries, pyramids of apples, zucchinis, apricots, carrots, lemons, plums, beans and pumpkins, as well as sacks of potatoes and mushrooms. Not for the first time Alida imagined the feasts the gardeners must have after-hours. There would be tables bursting with every type of fruit and vegetable cooked every which way possible. That would be the life.
‘Hey, you need any extra workers right now?’ Alida asked one of the gardener chicks.
The chick rolled her eyes. ‘Sorry, love. We’ve no need.’
‘Well, I’m always available whenever you do have the need.’ Alida regularly hassled them for work, hoping one day they’d realise they needed someone. You didn’t get if you didn’t ask.
Alida eyed the cartons of eggs and the pile of fruit bats at the far end of the table.
‘Fresh killed this morning.’ The gardener jerked her head towards the bats.
Alida would have liked some meat. Mum had never let them eat bat. She reckoned they were full of viruses and caused half the illnesses in the Demi-Settlements. They also reeked like piss when they were cooking.
‘Hurry it up, love. Don’t hold up the line,’ the gardener said as Alida stood clocking everything on the table, taking in the colours and shapes and the texture of the skins. It was so hard to choose.
Alida settled on some eggs to cook later for their dinner and a handful of strawberries. They strolled away with Graycie happily munching on her apple. Alida popped a strawberry into her mouth. It was juicy and sweet, but it was a mistake. The strawberry reminded her too much of Mum. Little love hearts, Mum had always called them. Grief washed over Alida. It kept creeping up on her. She fooled herself that she was dealing until the impossible unfairness stabbed her in the gut and disembowelled her. Mum was never coming back.
Zave ran up to them, puffing. ‘I’ve been looking for you everywhere.’
‘Everything okay, Zave? You want these strawbs?’ She held them out to him. They tasted like memories she couldn’t handle just yet.
‘Nah, cheers. I can’t eat.’ He ran his fingertips over a cluster of zits on his chin and glanced down at Graycie, who had nabbed the opportunity to sit on a rock by the side of the path and munch through the core of her apple. ‘I’m sick, Al.’
‘What do you mean?’ Now that he’d mentioned it, Zave’s skin did look clammy and paler than usual. His hair was limp and unwashed and he wasn’t wearing any make-up. Zave usually never left his shack without looking slick. ‘The virus?’ Alida pressed her fingernails into her palms. She couldn’t lose someone else. The virus was supposed to be burnt out now. There’d been no new cases reported for a couple of days.
‘Nah, nah.’ Zave shook his head. ‘I need passenger.’
‘Ah.’ Zave had been gigging for Freel for almost a year. At least once a week. That was a shitload of passenger to take. She could imagine how you could become needy for it. Even though she’d only taken it once she felt a tug towards trying it again. Passenger could take away the rawness of Mum’s absence. ‘Can’t Freel get you a gig or –’
‘No!’ Zave screwed up his face. ‘You don’t understand. I had one client and he moved to another city. Freel can’t find me any more work.’
Zave lowered his voice and leaned forward. ‘Has Freel been getting you work?’
‘I had the one gig and he wants me to do others, but I don’t wanna unless I’m skint.’
Zave scowled. ‘You don’t even put any effort into your looks or your threads. Why do you get work and I don’t?’
Alida didn’t take offence. Zave had always been the cute one. He was pretty shiny-looking for a Demi without access to enhancements, augmentations or gene editing. Nature had given him slick bone structure and full lips. His only flaw was crooked teeth which he hid behind his fist whenever he smiled.
‘Maybe I’m a lump of coal and beneath all the muck is a diamond for them to uncover,’ Alida said.
‘Pfft.’ Zave clearly doubted the existence of that diamond. ‘Well, since you’re so popular could you cover me for three or four caps? I’ll sort something else out and I’ll pay you back.’
They had always shared everything they had, without having to ask. She wanted to help him but she needed her dosh to feed Graycie and she didn’t want to end up gigging for Freel to support Graycie and Zave.
‘I can’t do that, Zave.’
‘Come on, Al. Have a heart.’ Zave paced frantically. ‘Just this one time?’
Alida groaned. How could she say no to her best mate? Drug addiction devoured people like the bio-recycler at the hub, but it was none of her business how he or anyone else chose to make their days bearable.
‘Hell. Just this one time. But you have to suss out some other source of dosh. I have to look after Gray and I don’t wanna work for Freel regular.’
‘Awesome. You’re the best.’ Zave pulled her into a hug.