"This is going to hurt," said the old man who kneeled beside her. His voice was breathy and his skin was weathered. He had lines of paint across his cheeks that joined into a triangle on his brow. His amber eyes seemed to glitter but maybe that was just the reflection from the candle on the side table that held his implements.
"Who… who are you?" The words fought to stay in her throat. The old man's curly hair was the colour of ash and it rustled with a breeze she couldn't feel. It gave him the air of a ghost. Was she dreaming?
"Don't talk, girl. Here. Take this. Drink it slowly. It will help with the pain." The man poured a bitter liquid into her lips. It tasted like rust.
"Oof."
"It'll do you good." He smiled. "Well, let's see what we can do about all of this."
The old man moved slowly. He picked up a sharp instrument with a hooked end and he tied a string to the other end of it.
"It's best if you close your eyes."
But Dotty couldn't. When that hook poked into the open woIt wasn't long before Miso was asleep, curled up in the back of the vehicle. Caza sat beside her, watching over his sister, and Dotty climbed forward into the passenger seat. Angur stood guard over his children from the machine gun turret.
"Are we nearly there?" asked Dotty.
The headlights of the hovercar cut a path through the darkness that blanketed everything. That light could only reveal a few metres in front of them, just enough to dodge around the abandoned cars that clogged the airway.
"We're still 60 klicks out," said the commander. "Is little Miso sleeping?"
"Yeah," replied Dotty. She hugged her knees into her chest, trying to get comfortable in that seat. "Klicks…" she mused. "You talk just like my dad." she said that last part in a voice so quiet the commander could never hear.
"You know something, girl?" He raised his thick grey eyebrows, the lines on his face deepened by the light that reflected off the road ahead. "I wish that android pal of yours hadn't left us behind. From what you were saying, this would be a piece of cake with his help."
"T1N didn't leave us behind." Her reply was quick, her voice shaking. "Bella forced him to go."
"Sorry. It's tough to lose a friend, even one made out of aluminium. That woman must be a piece of work. That's the thing about humans, hate can keep us alive much longer than it should. That thirst for revenge gives power to the worst of us."
The hovercar swerved around a girder that had collapsed into the middle of the tunnel, forcing them up onto the wall.
"It nearly happened to me," he continued. "Have hope, girl. Maybe we can persuade this robot to turn herself around, too."
Dotty didn't take her eyes off the road ahead. "Commander, this place must have been so different from what it is now…"
"You don't know the half of it." He sighed. "Living on Eidolon was like a constant holiday. We were meant to be in paradise, so we had to be happy. The problem was, that happiness was fake. It was just as fake as money. Without a purpose to our lives, all that abundance meant nothing. Before long all those adverts, all those promises, vanished into thin air. We had tried everything and now life was losing its colour, its flavour. It's in our nature as a species to be unsatisfied. From the beginning of our story that was always going to lead us to our end."
"What do you mean?"
"I guess I'm talking about Forbidden Fruit. We had a long tradition of chasing after that on Earth. Everything that was beyond our reach became an object of desire. That was how a black market emerged between the citizens here.
"At first it was tolerated. It was that little spice of life that kept Paradise ticking over. But it wasn't long before it was more than just trinkets from Earth. They started manufacturing a substance that offered you a 'journey beyond the stars.' Soon after, the drug started claiming victims: overdoses, suicides, robberies— evil creating more evil. That was when they built all the guard outposts. We hadn't needed them before that. But then we needed babysitters to stop us from killing ourselves… and each other. A lot of that tension between people still lasts today."
"You mean between the different tribes?"
Narrow nodded.
Dotty was taken by a fit of coughing. She couldn't stop it. Raising her hand to her mouth she found the drops of blood speckling her palms again, so dark they were almost black.
"Are you OK, girl?" The commander gave her a concerned look.
"Don't worry. I'm fine," she lied. There was a tightness crushing her chest.
Narrow reached over and gave her head a soothing pat.
"Come on. You're strong. You'll beat this."
"I'm not so sure… From what Bour was telling me, there's not many that do."
"One in ten? That's what Mercedes always says. Those aren't bad odds!" Narrow looked at her, but he couldn't hide his sadness. "Listen, young lady. The only thing you can do is truly believe that you'll beat this. Your body will do the rest. You can't give up."
Dotty's eyes shone intensely and a single tear made a thin track down her cheek.
"I don't want to die," she admitted between sobs. "But if it has to happen, I won't give up until the very end."
The commander nodded to her. "Now get some rest. You're gonna need all your strength for what comes next. Who knows what we'll find in sector R12?"
Dotty didn't say anything more. She leaned her head against the window and closed her eyes. Dreams had taken her before Narrow could count to ten.und in her stomach, the pain bent her double. Panic took control, her eyes springing open and darting around for some form of escape. She cried out and she swore, realising in that moment that her limbs were tied to the bed.
*
The smell of sweet incense brought her back to consciousness.
"Where am I?" she asked. The sound of her voice was strange, barely a whisper.
Above her head, steel cables held up a swathe of threadbare fabric that served as a ceiling. A single candle, about to sputter out, was the only light in that improvised bedroom. She looked around for something familiar, trying to work out what had happened, but there was nothing. Where was she?
Aside from the small table beside her bed there was a set of shelves made from recycled materials. On the shelves was an assortment of jars and scraps of metal. There was also a handful of paper books with well-worn spines. Near a stool made from a jerry can, she saw an old photograph sewn to the cloth wall.
She tried to sit up to see it better but she could only move her neck. Despite the distance, she could make out a boy with dark skin hugging a woman in a colourful dress. Beside them stood a white man in an elegant suit smiling at the camera.
Light suddenly flooded the space as the old man drew back the curtain that served as a door. He smiled at her.
"Good afternoon, little one. How are we feeling?"
Dotty felt a cold sweat prickling her eyebrows and forehead. She lifted her hand to wipe her face and realised it was no longer tied down. Rubbing her head with her hand she found that her hair was gone, she felt only her shaved scalp.
"Where— And what about my hair?" she asked, still dazed.
The old man came over to the jerry can and sat beside her. He was very thin and his skin, lined with wrinkles and stretch marks drooped from biceps that would have once been strong. On his neck he wore a choker made from iron nails and on his body he wore a sleeveless, threadbare tunic. And that was all.
"That's one of the rules in our camp and also," he paused, searching for the correct words. "It would have fallen out sooner or later. I'm sorry it took you by surprise. You fainted before we could explain."
"What happened to me?" she asked, her voice rising in alarm.
With great effort, this time she managed to sit up. She felt a tugging in her stomach and prodded at the strips of fabric that wove around her waist. They were stained with small drops of blood. Doing a quick scan of the rest of her body she realised that they had also bandaged her shoulder and wrapped her feet.
The old man watched her as she did this, stroking his chin. Then he continued: "The leaper that attacked you," he pointed to her wound. "Its claw punctured your skin and nicked your lower intestine. Their venom works fast and by the time they brought you here it had already spread throughout your body. I am truly sorry, girl. There was nothing I could do…"
"Venom!?" cried Dotty, her stomach starting to quiver. "What venom?"
The old man avoided her gaze. He chewed something and spat on the floor.
"The venom they carry is usually fatal, but some survive. We all did."
Dotty wanted to open her mouth. There were a million questions fighting their way up her throat but she couldn't speak. The old man took her hand. His hands were large and as thin as his voice.
"You'll start to feel its effects soon. Your body is already fighting it. If you can survive the next ten days…"
"Ten days?" Dotty asked, afraid to be hopeful. "What happens after that?"
"If you survive ten days that means your body has absorbed the venom. After that point, it can't hurt you anymore."
"Who are you?" Dotty could feel the stitches in her stomach pulling at the skin around the wound. She grit her teeth and lay down again.
"I'm Bour. I'm from Earth, like you. But I was born in the African Exclusion Zone. Thankfully, my stepfather fell for my mother and he was able to get us both out of there and bring us to this moon. I was only seven years old. I lived in this artificial paradise with all the other rich folk until the leapers came. But Eidolon was already failing at that point, it was just a question of time. This society was rotten to the core, with or without the invasion. The creatures just sped up the process. Now we're the only humans left. In this camp there's only a dozen, but there are a few other tribes of ghosts scattered about. They all survive in their own way."
"Leapers? Ghosts? This is madness."
Bour nodded.
"Everyone on this moon has been long doomed. You can't really say that we're living, but we're not dead yet either. We cling to life with tooth and nail, although we're barely a shadow of the true strength of our species. Every night we survive is another victory for us. But—" The old man stared at her and Dotty could see the conviction that burned in his eyes. "With each new day the fight starts over."
"And what about that boy and girl? Are they OK?"
"Caza and Miso? Yes. They're very special members of our tribe: children of Ground Zero. They were born when this moon was already a catastrophic ruin." Bour stood up and searched the shelves without pausing in his speech. "Everything is poisoned here, girl. The air is rife with a powder so fine that it burns your throat and coats your lungs over time. It's even in the precious little water that we can gather with our extractors, but we drink it anyway. Some of us have developed an immunity but, especially for those born here, it can lead to chronic illness, deformity, or sometimes worse."
"Is that why Caza has that… is like he is?" Dotty's hands drew a giant head around her own.
"There will be plenty of time to talk. For now, the important thing is that you get some rest. You need it. There's nothing to worry about, we'll give you the best care that we can. You're a part of our tribe now."
"Me?"
"Yes. Which reminds me that I need to speak to Caza and Miso regarding their escapade. That little excursion of theirs could have cost them their lives. We have rules and they must be followed for the good of all." The old man bowed his head and the nails on his choker clinked together. "I'm making dinner. Are you hungry?"
Dotty salivated at the thought of food. "Yes. Very."
"Perfect. That's a good sign."
When Bour returned with a steaming bowl in his hands, Dotty was already asleep.