16

November 15

Selah hadn’t seen much of her mother for the last couple weeks. Not since the first disagreement about that woman who played Joli. Besides STORM, Joli was the only other dome vice that nearly everyone participated in. A caustic game involving cards, dice, and figurines, it ruined every life it touched, including that of this woman who played it constantly, to the detriment of her sick child.

“Selah, over here!” Mari waved from the other side of the gymnasium, near a stack of crates labeled food.

Selah worked her way along the rows of empty cots toward Mari, where two dozen patients were spread out along the back rows. As Selah got closer, the smell of antiseptic mixed with body fluids assaulted her nose.

“What’s going on here? What happened to the clinic at the bottom of the hill?” Selah looked around at the numerous neatly placed rows covering the polished wooden floor. There had to be a hundred cots set up.

“There’s been an outbreak of plague. We have at least fifteen patients coming in from different parts of the dome,” Mari said. “They’re expecting it to escalate quickly among the compromised. The Cleveland School Center has the only building big enough.”

Selah started to worry about passing something to Rylla or Dane. “Maybe we shouldn’t be so close.”

“Apparently living in a germy world all our lives has had an inoculating effect. We’re not susceptible to any of the disease strains plaguing them.” Mari carried over another case of antiseptic.

“Can we help them at all?”

Mari frowned. “It’s pretty much a lost cause. Their immune systems are literally crashing by the day. I’d say in ten years they should just about all be gone.”

Selah couldn’t understand where her mother got so much compassion or the stamina to do this day after day. It had become almost an obsession for her, and Selah wondered how she would handle it when they were ready to leave.

“Where’s Mother?” Selah wanted to cover her nose, but she didn’t want Mari to chastise her.

“She’s trying to console the girl,” Mari said. “Her mother is gone again.” The child also happened to be the only girl patient, and Mother would have spirited her away from the dome if it was at all possible.

Selah had always managed to avoid coming here when the Joli-addicted woman was missing. She knew what would come next. Pasha would compel her to help them find the woman. Maybe she could get away before her mother spotted her.

She turned. Too late. Pasha scurried between the cots.

“I’m so glad you’re here. You came at just the right time. We need to go to the wharf.”

“Mother, have you lost—that place is dangerous,” Selah said.

“But it’s not dangerous for you. Do you see that boy over there?” Pasha pointed to the far left corner. “He just came from the wharf and he saw the girl’s mother getting beat up.”

“That’s what he said last time.” Mari pressed her lips tight.

“He said it looked bad this time.” Pasha wiped her shaking hands on her slacks.

“She keeps telling people she won the lottery. People around there will kill you for that kind of prize.” Mari shook her head. “No, I don’t want to go there either.”

“Then it’s settled. We’re not going,” Selah said as she glanced to her right. Brejian worked her way between the rows as though she were walking through a field of prickly thorns.

“What are you doing here?” Selah strolled toward Brejian, moving closer to the door.

“Pasha called me to draw her directions to somewhere,” Brejian said. She seemed concerned that Selah would be displeased.

Selah frowned. “Oh no. Get out of here fast. She wants you to—”

“Brejian, I’m glad you’re here. Now we can go.” Pasha hurried over.

“No! You’re not going to the wharf. I refuse to go, and I refuse to let you go,” Selah said.

Pasha put her hand on her hip. “Listen, young lady. You might get away with bossing others around because they’re captivated by the fact that you’re the novarium. But I’m your mother. It doesn’t impress me. You don’t have to go. I’ll go myself.” Pasha snatched Brejian by the hand and dragged her off between the rows of empty cots.

The irony was not lost on Selah that the ramshackle abodes and everyday world of the dockworkers was located directly below Brook Heights, the only exclusive conclave of the Keepers.

They walked down the hill toward the dome’s portion of Lake Erie as the sun set. Strange angular rays of sun shot into the dome over the frosted sides that delineated the snow lines. Eight feet to go and they could leave here. Checking the lines to see the progress had become Selah’s daily ritual.

“Where’s the place we’re supposed to look for this woman? Some of these businesses look sketchy as far as safety goes,” Selah said to Brejian. She had successfully evaded running into Mojica and Taraji when they stopped by the housing unit, so she was able to change into her boots and drop off her scrambler so the Keeper couldn’t track her. Everyone else still wore theirs, and now she felt a little twitchy having Pasha and Mari in a situation where she needed to trust Brejian for their safety. She didn’t want others to suffer if she was making a mistake. Why had she let her mother talk her into this crazy search?

Brook Heights was at the top of the only hill in Cleveland and was the center location in the dome, making Selah wonder if the dome was generated from there. At the top, the streets were smooth rocrete roads with fusion lighting, pristine passages, and well-kept stone masonry buildings. But down here at the bottom where the lanes were populated with questionable business enterprises and the smell of rotting fish from the wharf outdoor market, the roads morphed into worn cobblestone streets, with garbage everywhere and liquid-propellant flame lights on wrought-iron posts. High tech clashed with ancient.

Despite the danger, Selah envisioned living a fantasy life like she’d seen in one of the ancient paintings in the Borough building back in Dominion, with a parasol, a hooped skirt, and a horse and buggy traveling over these cobblestone streets.

Brejian jumped at a loud bang as they stopped at the last cross street. The wharf lay straight ahead.

Loud music and raucous conversations drifted from the left while screams and breaking glass filtered from the right.

“Why would this woman come down here?” Selah gestured to the left and tried to imagine the desperation that would bring a woman here. They worked their way down the street searching between buildings.

“She was probably trying to make more money for a shot at the next lottery. Apparently she was quite a roller with the Joli game,” Brejian said.

“Why didn’t she just use the Joli winnings to buy STORM?” Selah asked.

“It would take ten years of Joli winnings to pay the black market price of STORM,” Brejian said.

“This is a small and closed environment. I don’t understand why the Keepers can’t get control of the black market operation.” Selah stopped and searched behind a railing leading to a belowground shop.

Brejian checked both directions as they stood there. “I guess that’s a good indication there are corrupt Keepers in the system.”

“Wait! Explain to me how you get to be a Keeper and how many there are.” Selah was still trying to figure out if the Keeper mentoring her could be involved, but she didn’t want to come out and ask because Brejian seemed to have a connection to him.

“Keepers are the original members of the team who developed the Protocols. They and their ancestors have kept the designation. It’s now an honored title almost like royalty. They continue to maintain the dome and its purpose,” Brejian said almost reverently.

Mari stepped closer to listen. “How many are there?”

Brejian shrugged. “Most of the people living in Brook Heights.”

“The rich section.” Pasha shook her head. “Absolute power corrupts absolutely.”

“So I guess that explains the black market and why it isn’t shut down. A lot of people are profiting from the health misery of others,” Mari said.

Selah had to agree. She’d seen that same kind of sad behavior back home in Dominion. She trained her light stick into the dark space, disturbing some sort of animal that scurried away at the first shot of light. She jumped back. “Are we sure the woman is really in this area?”

Pasha walked up beside Selah. “The boy said she was sober when she beat the latest Joli challenger. She took the winnings and bought a lottery token and really won. The boy saw it.”

“She’s told us a half dozen times she won, and somebody stole it from her each time.” Mari rolled her eyes and moved off in Brejian’s direction. “You know that woman never won anything. She’s too smashed most of the time to remember what’s true.”

Pasha flinched at Mari’s words. “She once told me she stayed smashed to forget how many times she had won the right for her daughter to be well, only to have it stolen from her.”

Selah stopped in the street and looked directly at her mother. “Do you believe her?”

Pasha smiled and nodded. “Yes, I do. She’s very good at the game but gets taken advantage of on a regular basis. Someone’s got to help her. We’ll be leaving soon, and this might be my last chance to make a difference. So I have to try.”

“She may be good at Joli because it’s a game of skill, but the lottery is a game of chance, and when ‘chance’ finds the same person repeatedly, it’s rigged,” Brejian said.

“So is this woman being used as some kind of shill? They steal it back from her to raffle off again and keep all the money from everyone who entered.” Mari moved up beside Pasha.

“I don’t care about the lottery. I just want to find her and get out of here,” Pasha said.

“Agreed,” Selah said. “Which of these joints shall we start in? And remember, it doesn’t matter if we find her in a Joli game or not, we’re taking her.”

“The boy from the shelter told me he knew where she went, the man was hurting her, and she asked the boy to get help. So he came to me.”

Selah hesitated. “Are you sure this is the real situation?” It had occurred to her that this could be another ruse to get at her.

“I know the sick child. I know her mother. The mother is missing,” Pasha said. Mari nodded in agreement.

Selah looked up at the numbers on the buildings. “This is the six hundred block. Where’s the Joli game in this section?”

“That third building over there.” Brejian pointed at the building outlined in fluorescent rope lights that flashed off and on. “We could just wait for the game to be over in an hour and see if she comes out.”

“No. The object is to find her now before anything else happens. I’ll go in. You three stay right here.” Selah started across the street.

“Wait, maybe this is a bad idea,” Pasha said.

Selah smiled softly. “You’re going to have to work on your timing.” She continued across the street, still wearing her black and red aerodynamic training suit. She’d only stopped long enough to change from the combat rubber soles into her boots, and the forceful sound of her footfalls echoed in the street.

She approached the front of the building where several men sat around a barrel with a sheet of wood as a tabletop. They separated from the table and stood to face her. She scanned the table for weapons. None. The men were playing Joli. It was illegal to play in the streets.

She flashed them her most confident look, tossed her ponytail, and strode past. Her heart felt like it was going to crawl out of her throat. The last guy grabbed her by the wrist with a large, meaty hand.

Selah jerked to a stop. Her demeanor never wavered. It was going to be all in her attitude. She stared into the man’s bloodshot eyes, then slowly lowered her eyes to his hand. “It’s not polite to restrain a lady you don’t know.” She breathed evenly though her brain wanted to scream at her stupidity. Doing a thrust would get her no closer to finding the woman, so she’d have to use her combat training when it came time.

“I think I’ve met you somewhere before.” The beefy dockworker turned to laugh with his friends. Selah saw the purple scar on his cheek. One of her previous attackers.

“I don’t think so.” Selah pulled three lightning-fast maneuvers and came up with the guy’s thumb bent at a very uncomfortable angle.

She drew the man close so his friends couldn’t see he was captive and whispered in his ear, “I won’t pull off your thumb and ruin your occupation if you will consent to moving away from me when I release you.”

A moment of recognition crossed his face. Selah smiled at him. Sweat broke out across his forehead as he nodded vigorously.

Selah kept her stony gaze fixed on the man and released him, pushing him far enough away that she’d have room for attack. He turned his back on her and sat down.

She blew out a few nervous huffs of air as she walked toward the doorway. She jumped out of the way as a man tumbled out of the opening. “I won and you’re cheating me,” he yelled over his shoulder.

“Keep going, ya bum. That’s what all you losers say,” a rouster at the door said. He looked Selah over. “You come to play in my club?”

“Yes.” She decided the less talk, the less she could mess up.

The rouster stared at her for a long moment. Finally he waved her in. Selah moved past him, and once out of his sight she added a little swagger to her newfound confidence. She climbed the wide landing and stepped into the Joli parlor. Her bravado faded when she surveyed the surroundings. She had never viewed any inside scene that compared. Something set off an internal alarm that bubbled to the surface as tangible fear. Her chest tightened and her arms surged with nervous energy. She glanced around, searching for the source of her undefined angst.

Her head throbbed. The club’s wide and double-long room had been painted black, with multicolored rope lights traversing the ceiling at so many angles it made Selah dizzy to look up.

A pale wisp of some kind of mist hung over the darkened room. As she breathed it in, her throat grew dry. Light poles coming up through the center of each table provided the only ambient light for the games. Selah walked slowly among the booths and table groupings along the walls that weren’t involved with the games. She had the description of the man she wanted to find. He would be wearing a knit beanie pulled down tight, with a foot of blond hair hanging from the back of the cap.

A hand rested on her shoulder. Selah spun around to see a woman carrying a tray.

“What can I help you with? Do you want to play Joli?” The woman grabbed a cup from the table next to her.

“No thank you. I’m just looking for someone,” Selah said, relieved it was a woman.

“The boss is watching you, and he said to tell you if you ain’t here to play, then you’re gonna have to pay by sitting at his table.”

Selah found herself wanting to give the man a few words about manners. “I don’t want trouble. I’m just looking for a woman they call the Joli Woman because she plays so well.”

The woman’s face dissolved into a mask of fear. “Get out of here right now! Meet me in the alley.”

A man grabbed Selah’s left shoulder. She reached across with her right hand, grabbed the intruder’s wrist, and spun herself around as she bent his arm and hand up his back. She whispered in his ear, “Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to put your hands on a lady?”

He grunted.

“If I let you go, will you walk away?” She only wanted out of here at this point. The server girl might be the lead she needed.

He grunted again.

Relieved to have avoided a confrontation, Selah let go.

He spun to sweep her legs from under her. Selah’s abilities put the speed of her reflexes between the strokes of a second. She sprang from the floor before his leg swept by and landed on her left foot. She planted her right boot in his back.

The guy flew forward across a Joli table, scattering the game and opponents. Fighting broke out at the table and spread like pollen to nearby tables.

Selah turned to flee. Purple Scar blocked her path and yelled over the fighting crowd, “Follow me if you want to get out of here alive.”

“Why should I trust you?” She had a hard time reading people in the dome.

“It’s follow me or go it alone back through that crowd.”

Selah looked around him at the jumble of fighting men and quite a few women. They didn’t have weapons, but more than one chair was sacrificed to become multiple clubs. Selah had no weapon and no scrambler. She figured she could take him one-on-one if she had to. “Okay, I’ll follow—”

He snatched her by the wrist and elbowed his way through the crowd. His girth was such that Selah managed nicely with him as a shield. With no security agents that she could see, the fight grew louder. The chorus of breaking data glass and lighting elements added to the raging sound. They turned to the left and went through a passageway instead of to the front door she’d used.

Selah panicked. The corridor was too narrow for her to take a good hit at him. He charged forward, dragging her behind.

“No!” She pounded on his back with her free hand. “Let go of me!”

“Stop it, crazy woman!” Purple Scar edged around her so he was on the club side of the corridor. He continued to push her just by moving forward because he filled the space.

“Let me out. People know I’m here. You won’t get away with this.” Selah tried to push back at him, but she wasn’t sure why. What was in the dark behind her?

No. She didn’t want to go into the dark. She struggled against him but he pushed faster. With a jolt, her back hit a wall. She opened her mouth to scream. He slammed his hand against the wall, and it popped open outward. She tumbled into the alley.

Selah hopped to her feet. “Why didn’t you kidnap me at the way station?” She was ready for a fight.

Purple Scar shrugged. “He didn’t pay me. I don’t collect his samples for free.” He slammed the door shut. Selah peered around. She scrambled to pull her light stick from her pocket.

“Miss.”

Selah swung around in a fighting stance.

“Wait! It’s me, from inside.” The woman came from the shadows with her hands raised. “The Joli Woman . . . I heard them talking about dumping her in the alley three buildings down that way.” She pointed. “But they said she was dead.” The woman ran away down the alley and turned back into the club.

Selah gathered the ladies, and Pasha counted off the buildings then pointed to an alleyway between two tall brick buildings. The light mounted on the building had been knocked off, and the air smelled ripe with intoxicating beverages and human waste.

Selah raised a hand. “Stay here. Let me look first.” She was ready for this, but she hadn’t told Pasha about the woman’s possible fate.

She concentrated the light beam and passed over the alley the first time. Traveling back over it from the other side, Selah saw some waste packaging. She slid back the largest strip. The sight made her want to lose her last meal.

The poor woman lay among the corrugated package refuse. One leg was bent at an odd angle, and a dark crimson spot had spread across the front of her tunic. Dried blood had caked on the outside of her right ear and down the side of her neck, merging with the blood at the corner of her mouth.

Her face. A shiver crawled up Selah’s back. The woman’s face seemed familiar.

Selah bent close to the woman’s ear. “Can you hear me? Pasha sent me to help you.” She checked for a pulse. The woman was dead. “Mother, come here, please.”

Pasha moved slowly into the lane, shuffling up behind Selah without looking down. “Is she . . . dead?”

“Yes. Is that her?” Selah pointed to the body.

Pasha looked over Selah’s shoulder and shuddered. “Poor woman. Yes, that’s her. Can you tell how she died?”

Selah grimaced as she knelt down beside the body. “It looks like she was hit in the head with something heavy.” She looked around the immediate area. “But I don’t think it happened here because there’s too much blood on her and no splatter anywhere.”

Tears slid down Pasha’s cheeks. “So they just discarded her like trash. We can’t leave her here.”

“Brejian will call the proper authorities,” Selah said as she rose. The copper smell of the drying blood made her stomach lurch.

A glint of light caught her attention. Selah hesitated but then gingerly used her foot to move the woman’s bloodied hand.

Pasha had started to walk away but turned back. “What’s the matter?”

“I don’t know.” Selah moved closer to the body. Congealing blood collected in the woman’s hand, obscuring the object except where her fingers had closed over it.

Selah reached out. Her fingers hovered over the gelatinous mess. She gagged, turned away, and grabbed a piece of packing material.

“What are you doing?” Pasha asked.

“I’m trying to see what’s in her hand. The edge is shiny but it’s mired in her drying blood,” Selah said.

“Lottery tokens are gold!” Pasha moved closer.

Selah used the packing material to scrape away the blood, but it wasn’t enough. The other fingers on the woman’s hand would have to be pried open. Selah turned her head away from the body, sucked in a great gulp of relatively clean air, and turned back with a grimace. She swiftly pried the fingers open as her stomach flopped a couple times. She was rewarded with the nonbloodied face of a lottery token. Selah snatched it up, wiped the outer edges on the dead woman’s tunic, and secured the token in one of her sealed pockets.

Selah quickly backed Pasha out to the entrance of the alley and gathered up the other two huddled against the building. The anxious women turned the corner for home.

Four beefy, broad-shouldered men stood in their way. One particularly ominous man wore a dark knit cap pulled down to his eyebrows. It pressed his long blond hair to his neck and covered his ears. The boss. Selah spread her arms to keep the other women behind her.

“We don’t want any trouble, so just move aside and let us pass, please,” Selah said calmly.

One of the men with a scarf tied around his short dark hair moved to stand in front of Selah. His bulging muscles showed the faint tattoo of an exotic bird. He looked down at Selah and then turned to a burly man with a green neck scarf. “Go check the body.”

The man lumbered into the alley. Selah pressed her arm against her side, feeling the token in her pocket. She backed away a couple feet and checked her range. The man’s growl of displeasure echoed the length of the alley.

Green Scarf trudged from the alley, ran to Bird Guy, and whispered in his ear. Bird Guy turned to look at Selah. “Give me the token.”

Brejian and Mari tried to barge around Selah, talking at the same time. She held them back. “Stop!” They moved back behind her.

“If I did have the token, it still wouldn’t be yours. It belongs to the woman’s child.”

“Leaving the token behind was a grave error on my part, and if it’s not corrected there will be dire consequences,” Bird Guy said.

Selah frowned. “I’m sorry, but our need to remain unharmed tops your need to reclaim the token.” Calculating that the men were in the zone, she reared back and launched a wide thrust through the center of the four men. Two flew against the brick side of the building, while the other two were thrown into the center of the cobblestone street.

Selah and the ladies ran up the street until they reached the safety of the smooth rocrete and Brook Heights. Pasha stopped the group at the top of the road. Selah looked back, searching carefully to make sure they weren’t being followed.

“Was it really the token?” Pasha’s eyes were wide.

“Yes, I’ve got it.” Selah produced the gold five-sided token.

Pasha gasped. “She actually won the lottery. Her daughter can be saved. We have to redeem it while the girl is strong enough to be cured. She only has a matter of weeks before she passes the point of a successful cure.”

“Wait. How do we explain this?” Selah stuck the token back in her pocket. She remembered seeing a whole basket of this kind before. Why had they just been lying out?