The Other Side: Part 2
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A Supra is just a Vocate with a fancy badge, access to steel, and too much authority. Alex always said that Vocates who wanted to be Supra were born the same. But were they?
The Supra continued walking down alleyways and unlit streets, fading into the darkness of covered houses and the shadows of monuments. She would have taken this way to avoid detection. Why is he hiding? He could have found out she had been following him, but if he did, why hadn't he turned around and jumped her with those weapons he carried? That sling gun could hit her before she even saw him turn.
The hilt of her knife presses into her palm, keeping her grip and attention sharp. She waits under a mossy, stone-arched passageway, overlooking a stream with a view of more of the city lit with blue light on the other side.
There's only a narrow walkway that leads to a staircase uphill that the Supra had turned onto.
Thwump. Thwump. Thwump. The Supra's boots clomp on the stone stairs as he climbs the last step, the sound echoing through the archway's chamber.
When he is farther away, the girl continues up the stairs behind him. At the top of the staircase, the streets were lined with large shops and blue lampposts lighting the ground. Quickly, she runs to a weathered shop and peers around the side, watching the Supra walk with a swagger down the center of the road to the Supremacy Barracks. His woffle bat shakes in his pack as he moves. There is something about him. He kind of... looks like Alex. But Alex would never be seen in Supra gear. Couldn't, in fact. He wore no Vocate bracelet on his wrist.
Thwomp. Thwomp. Footsteps. The sound of boots hitting stone rises in a rhythm, growing louder. Another Supra has started climbing the staircase. Damnit. Couldn't go back that way now.
The Supra from earlier is farther away now, too close to the Supremacy building.
"Ahh," a voice sighs. The Supra reaches the top of the steps.
Shit. He's too close. Where can she go that he won't see her? There's nowhere to hide.
The girl quickly takes off to the blue-lit street, jogging to the corner of a shop to cut through an alleyway. Thup. Thup. Rattle. Rattle. Goddamn backpack wants her found.
"Hey!" The Supra thumps across the stony ground, boots loud behind her.
She's too fast for them. When she breaks from the alley, she runs across the district's square that stretches around storefronts.
Straight ahead, a fence is all that stands between her and open air.
Just roofs and tall buildings.
Damnit...
She's reached a cliff.
Forcing weak muscles to give every ounce they still have, she leaps, stepping off the fence, and flies through the air.
Shit-shit. She's much too high.
Her stomach lifts into her chest as she falls, heart pounding like a drum. She's going to die. She's going to die. She's going to die.
With bent knees, she shifts her feet before landing, leaning her weight over her ankles, and she hits the ground, landing on a dirt road. A painful ripple courses through her knees and up her thighs. "Fuck," she mutters. Rubbing her ankles and knees, she slowly steps forward. A vibration rolls up from her feet. At least she can still move.
She swings her pack forward and holds it tight against her chest so the hard object inside won't bounce.
His house isn't too far now.
But of course, she had fucking Supra on her tail now, and she could never lead Supra to his door.
She charges forward through the shadows the pulsing blue streets create. As she scrapes along the walls of repurposed buildings, the bag grows heavier in her arms every minute. She'll need to find a place for it. Somewhere it will be safe.
A Supra is just a Vocate with a fancy badge, access to steel, and too much authority. Alex always said that Vocates who wanted to be Supra were born the same. But were they?
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The Supra continues walking down alleyways and unlit streets, fading into the darkness of covered houses and the shadows of monuments. She would have taken this way to avoid detection. Why is he hiding? He could have found out she had been following him, but if he did, why hadn't he turned around and jumped her with those weapons he carried? That sling gun could hit her before she even saw him turn.
The hilt of her knife presses into her palm, keeping her grip and attention sharp. She waits under a mossy, stone-arched passageway, overlooking a stream with a view of more of the city lit with blue light on the other side.
There's only a narrow walkway that leads to a staircase uphill that the Supra had turned onto.
Thwomp. The sound of his boots hammering the stone stairs echoes through the archway.
When the Supra moved farther away, the girl followed him up the stairs. At the top of the staircase, the streets were lined with large shops and blue lampposts lighting the ground. Quickly, she runs to a weathered shop and peers around the shop’s corner. The Supra strides down the center of the road toward the Supremacy Barracks, swagger loose in his shoulders. The woffle bat in his pack rattles with each step. There is something about him. He kind of... looks like Alex. But Alex would never be seen in Supra gear. Couldn't, in fact. He wore no Vocate bracelet on his wrist.
Thwomp. Thwomp. Footsteps. The sound of boots hitting stone rises in a rhythm, growing louder. Another Supra has started climbing the staircase. Damnit. Couldn't go back that way now.
The Supra from earlier is farther away now, too close to the Supremacy building.
"Ahh," a voice sighs. The Supra reaches the top of the steps.
Shit. He's too close. Where can she go that he won't see her? There's nowhere to hide.
The girl quickly takes off to the blue-lit street, jogging to the corner of a shop to cut through an alleyway. Thup. Thup. Rattle. Rattle. Goddamn backpack wants her found.
"Hey!" The Supra thumps across the stony ground, boots loud behind her.
She's too fast for them. When she breaks from the alley, she runs across the district's square that stretches around storefronts.
Straight ahead, a fence is all that stands between her and open air.
Just roofs and tall buildings.
Damnit...
She's reached a cliff.
Forcing weak muscles to give every ounce they still have, she leaps, stepping off the fence, and flies through the air.
Shit-shit. She's much too high.
Her stomach lifts into her chest as she falls, heart pounding like a drum. She's going to die. She's going to die. She's going to die.
With bent knees she shifts her feet before landing and throws her weight over her ankles. She slams into the dirt road. Pain ripples through her knees and up her thighs, knocking the breath from her lungs.
“Fuck,” she mutters.
At least nothing feels broken. She takes a slow step forward, a vibration rolling up from her feet.
The pack swings forward against her chest, and she clamps it tight so the hard object inside won’t bounce.
The house at the top of the hill isn’t far now.
But of course, she had fucking Supra on her tail now, and she could never lead Supra to his door.
She charges forward through shadows cast by the pulsing blue streets. As she scrapes along the walls of repurposed buildings, the bag grows heavier in her arms every minute. She'll need to find a place for it. Somewhere it will be safe.
Streets are always empty in a city where the dead don't pay rent. It looks different than years ago when she'd travel on roads at night on her way to see him. Her finger slides across the windowpane of a house destroyed by age, half of it fallen and propped up by the structure beside it. Her fingers lift dark dirt from dust that had been watered by the rain.
She must have lost the Supra by now. Almost had another run-in, but she had been able to sneak away quietly, detouring further through the alleyways of the northern shopping district. It's safer than it should be. Supra had posts with the best visuals to cover as much ground as possible, but none appeared to be here.
Where were they? If Supra were watching this street, they wouldn't be here.
On the other side of the street, someone is slumped over. Unmistakably Inert. She gazes down the street. Right. Left. Nothing...
Through the fabric of her backpack, she presses her fingers into the crevice of clay that managed to survive several falls. She lowers and then takes off quickly. Her footsteps echo through the street, crunching on crumbled pavement until she stops in front of the Inert.
Beside him, she crouches and scans the empty street. No sound. Just silence.
Hello, friend.
The Inert man that had been folded over had long white hair curling over his lap and brushing the ground. He is so still he could be a corpse, but he's breathing. Alive. Earned. He had a bright blue hat and ragged clothes that were too big for him, nearly falling off his scrawny body. Must've been a lot older. His skin is covered in poik, the mottled, leathery patches across his face and neck. He smelled of booze. The scent is sickly and inviting.
Where'd you get that? An empty glass lay next to him on its side, another upright with brown liquid still in it. Must have got it after the storm ended.
"Hey, you shouldn't be here," she whispers.
The man is quiet. A Supra is sure to walk by and spot him here in the shopping district. There is an invisible line in the city that everyone knew not to cross, and the man had found his way into Vocate central. The only thing that made him somewhat fit in is the dumb, bright blue hat.
The girl sets down her bag and picks up the glass of alcohol, swirling it around in her hand. It's a strong, yeasty brew. Poor man never finished it. She brings it to her lips and sips the warm liquor. It burns her throat.
"What is this?" she asks the man, but he doesn't answer. Doesn't even budge.
The smell lingers in her nostrils and colors her tongue, and she drinks the rest of the alcohol down in a thirsty chug. Chest burning like fire, and face smoldering with the heat.
She lays the glass down and gently nudges the man's shoulder. "Thanks. I've got something for you too."
The bag's button pops open and her hands slide inside, feeling through the contents for damage. The rounded bowl shape is still smooth, but jagged where it must have chipped off.
Please be intact...
Carefully, she lifts a clay planter from the bag, cracked down the center and missing pieces that must have broken off in the shuffle. Soil spills over the edges as she moves it to the ground. There. It's out of her hands now.
"Take care of this. It doesn't need watering right away," she tells the Inert man as she stands back up. She turns her bag upside down and shakes it free of clay and dirt.
Then the girl slips her empty pack back on. "Get out of here as soon as you can."
He isn't listening at all. She steps back, heart racing when she looks at the clay planter one last time. The small sapling in the center sits off-kilter, roots loose in the soil, exposed through cracks in the clay. It had been through a lot. If Supra find it... at least she'll be far away.
To the west, a tall green hill rises from the land, small houses lined up to greet the sunset. His house is at the top. Behind it, a smoky cloud rises over the cliff.
Pressing her back against the store wall, she breathes in and out slowly in relief and distress.
In one swift movement, she slips her phone out of her pocket.
Fingers shaking, she taps quickly and tucks her phone away.
Then she steps forward. One more hill to climb.
I'm stopping by.
Sent.
*** Character-specific extras included in post author's note*
Thank you for reading!
Hear from Pablo, Miles's best friend, in the next update.
January 1, 2249.
It's been 1,248 days.
-M
***Author's Note:
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