I wanted to cry. For way more than just one reason.

  My precious, precious bed was done for. As was most of my apartment, for that matter. And there I was, spending even more of Glim’s very expensive powder on an idiot who’d managed to get shot and even reopened her older wounds along the way. If I was a bit rougher while applying the powder than necessary, who could blame me?

  An annoying redhead, apparently.

  “Dammit kid, you really don’t know how to treat a lady!” Mela flinched away from my fingers that were working the powder into the wound. “I disrobe for you and everything, and this is what you do?”

  I just glared in response. I would have paired the look with a painful squeeze if that wouldn’t have restarted the bleeding and forced me to spend more of my resources.

  “Maybe I’d be grateful if there was much for me to see,” I snarked instead.

  From the look she gave me, I was toeing a very thin line with that particular taunt. Was that even a genuine spark of hurt I saw there?

  Now that was just ridiculous. Sure, the bra covered with actual cutesy pink kittens was a step too far, even for someone who was dressing that way ‘ironically’, but she did have… er, a ‘bountiful’ chest. I was just a bit too wrapped up in existential horror to so much as steal a glance.

  “Rude. Ruuuude! Here I’m trying to distract you from all that happened and you’re just mouthing off. Really, kids these days!”

  I winced. If that was really what she was trying to do, well…

  “I’ll dial it back,” I mumbled, refusing to look her in the eye as I grabbed some of the bandages out of my first aid kit. I hadn’t bothered with them before because it was best to let the powder sit for a while, but I had a feeling we weren’t staying in my apartment long.

  Speaking of…

  “You know, I own this place. Like, *own-*own it.”

  Her head snapped over to me so quickly, I thought she’d break her neck.

  “Wait, really? Um…”

  She looked around at all the devastation. The shot-up bed and wardrobe, the bullet holes and cracks in the walls, the decimated shower barrier…

  Wait, is that a tiny spray of water? Did they hit a pipe or something?

  I groaned. “How the hell am I going to afford to fix this place up?”

  A second later, though, I perked up when I remembered the wealth I’d hidden away from the robbery. It was going to be ‘fun’ trying to justify where the money came from, but maybe things weren’t so bad after all.

  “I’m sorry.” Mela’s morose voice snapped me out of my thoughts. When I looked at her, she did look genuinely sad and pissed off, at herself I mean. “I didn’t know…”

  I shrugged. “S fine. Not like you knew people would try to kill us immediately.”

  Focusing on the bandages, I tried not to think too much about… well, anything.

  My home was wrecked. I’d gotten mixed up in a ganger war. And then there was that weird time glitch that had happened in the middle of the shootout, when I’d seen… stuff I didn’t have any words for, even if I wanted to talk about it to anyone ever.

  If I started thinking about any of it, I was liable to hyperventilate, or just pass out in a puddle of my own tears. Then I would definitely get gunned down, stabbed, or something equally as unpleasant very soon. Especially without a front door.

  “Why dontcha go ahead and ruffle through those guys’ stuff?” she suggested, once I’d finished tying off the bandages somewhat inexpertly. “I’m sure they had some creds. Might help.”

  “Sure. Sounds good. We… we probably need to leave right after, don’t we? If this group of idiots found us, there’ll probably be more of them coming.”

  “Yeah, probably. If you get me back to base, the Kittens can help.”

  She pulled that guilty expression again. Honestly, it was starting to make me uncomfortable. She didn’t seem like the kind of woman to stress over this sort of stuff.

  I paid careful attention to my own body as I searched the gangers. Everything ached, but that wasn’t surprising. The cut on my leg was giving me the most trouble. While I fought it admirably, my walk did still slip into a limp on occasion. At least there wasn’t any fresh blood on my pants, so it wasn’t likely that my wound had reopened.

  As it turned out, the lowlifes did have some credits. Not a lot, of course. Probably nowhere near enough money to fix up an apartment. But it was something. I wasn’t all that eager to start sticking credit chips into my port, but I’d go over them later and confirm. For now, I stuffed them in my backpack.

  Once I’d searched the gangers’ bodies, all I had to do was grab my own hidden stash of credit chips and zip them away in my backpack. I threw in a couple changes of clothes from my ruined wardrobe, just in case, and I was ready to leave.

  Really, that my life could be so easily uprooted was what hit me the hardest. I was aware of just how little I owned, of how transient my life was at the best of times, but to see proof of that…

  I pushed it all down and forced myself to speak casually. “I’m ready to go, if you are.”

  The look of profound pity on Mela’s face totally did NOT make me want to punch her.

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  “What?” I demanded.

  “Nothing, kid, nothing. Come on, help me up. I’m not gonna be able to do much but hobble, but you’ll be a big strong man and help me out, wontcha?”

  “Please never call me that again.”

  “Think about the two of us, pressed together, breathing heavy…”

  My self-control failed me.

  Ignoring her outstretched arms, I put my hand on her face and shoved. Lightly. She broke out into chuckles and refused to be knocked over, but her smile did shift from ‘teasing’ to a more genuine expression.

  “This ain’t the end of the world, kid. I promise.”

  What could I say when she decided to switch to that solemn, quiet tone? There was nothing to say. I just put her arm around my shoulder and helped her up.

  She swayed, but kept her feet. I still knew we were in trouble. I doubted she had it in her to make the entire trip, and I was struggling to support her weight already. My leg throbbed. I swear I could feel every inch of the wound that stretched across my thigh.

  “You alright there kiddo? You sure the big bad man can manage a trip to our cattery?”

  “Oh no,” I gasped, as dramatically as I could manage. “I think my strength is failing me. Terribly sorry, but I guess I need to drop you now.”

  I shifted like I was about to drop her on purpose, and her arm tightened around my shoulders.

  “Sorry, big bad man. Keeping my mouth shut now,” she pleaded, sporting a strained smile.

  I scoffed but didn’t rise to her bait. Instead, I made sure she had a gun in her free hand and then slowly took us out of the apartment.

  Really, the operative word for the entire experience was ‘slowly’. A slow shamble over the various obstacles our fight had left behind, and out the door. A slow descent down the stairs, having to take a break once or twice when our wounds acted up. A slow exit through the underground garage, which I typically tried to avoid.

  If there was one thing to feel thankful for, it was that all the typical riff-raff had cleared out from down there. I saw the favorite setup of the local druggies. A fire was still crackling away inside the massive metal barrel they normally gathered around. But there wasn’t a single idiot trying to visit heaven through a syringe for us to worry about. All the nearby violence must have spooked them.

  “Hey, we’re almost out of here!” Mela decided to proclaim cheerfully when we were halfway to the exit ramp.

  So, of course, we immediately heard hollering and laughter from that direction.

  “What happened to staying quiet?” I hissed. “Really? What happened?”

  I hurriedly dragged us over behind one of the derelict vehicles that graced the garage. The old hover car was beat up to hell and back. Even the frame looked like it might crumble away into rust if I touched it too hard. But at least it provided some cover. We managed to throw ourselves behind it and out of view just as a pack of gangers strolled into the garage like they owned it.

  Which, depending on how the clash in the streets had gone, they very well might.

  From the brief glimpse I got, they were definitely Zerx. They were all bedecked in their signature psychedelic clothes, featuring enough odd colors and shapes to trigger someone’s seizures. They also had a variety of weapons in hand. I saw several shooters, ranging from impressive to pathetic, but there were also pipes and, I swear to all I hold dear, an honest to goodness katana.

  Who even used katana anymore?

  The Zerx spotted the fire barrel and cheered. Gathering around, they each claimed one of the empty crates. Then they looted the drinks and a few syringes of some filth that the druggies hadn’t been in the right state of mind to take with them while fleeing.

  I, meanwhile, was focused on escaping as quickly and as quietly as possible.

  The task was difficult. There weren’t all that many cars to hide behind, and our shuffle-step-shuffle rhythm wasn’t the quietest thing in the world. Our luck held, but only because the gangers promptly broke out into a loud argument.

  I kept half an ear on what they were saying, then felt my blood turn to ice in my veins.

  They were discussing us.

  Apparently, the group of clowns we’d left cooling in the wreckage of my apartment had called for backup before they managed to rub two brain cells together and find a way to batter my door down. This brave group of volunteers had arrived to help.

  Well, if by ‘help’, you meant ‘happily join in the rape of the Kitten before grabbing whatever loot she drops.’ Zerx: classy people, one and all.

  I put extra speed into our shuffle out of the parking lot. When we emerged outside into the chill air of a late evening, I wasn’t the only one to let out a breath of pure relief. I chanced a glance at my fellow sneak, but the boiling rage in her eyes made me look away quickly and decide I didn’t want to engage with her just that moment.

  I didn’t really need to, either. I knew where we were going.

  Mela had referred to the Kitten’s HQ as the ‘cattery’, and that was an apt description for the place. Day or night, it was rambunctious and loud, with plenty of caterwauling from gang members absolutely butchering karaoke. It was also the building most street kids watched with envy, wondering if they might one day be allowed to join ‘the good life’.

  I didn’t really share their enthusiasm when it came to signing away my future to a gang, but I did know where the place was located, at least.

  We were halfway there before I attempted conversation again.

  “So… you guys have cookies?”

  Mela gave me such a confused look that I snickered. “Everyone says ‘the dark side has cookies’, I explained. “I have no clue what that even means, but… a gang has to count as ‘the dark side’, right?”

  She stared a second longer, but then she chuckled. “Sure, kid, we’ve got cookies. I’ll even see if we can drum up some milk for you. Didja even ever try a cookie?”

  Once. A long time ago, when my mother was still around and treats were something we could afford. Not that I was going to unveil my whole life story to a ganger I was helping against my better judgment.

  I shrugged. “Eh, not really. What’s it like?”

  “Divine,” she teased, then changed tracks. “It’s sweet. You’ll like it.”

  “I bet I will. I’ll at least like it more than you.”

  “Oi.”

  I kept her talking, though we both kept our voices quiet. The slums were unusually deserted. Everyone had scattered when trouble reared its ugly head, and they were now safely hiding away in whatever corner they could find.

  It was a wise move, and I made sure to borrow some of that wisdom. We stuck to side streets and filthy alleys whenever we could manage, and I tried never to pick a path without some debris to hide behind if the need struck.

  And the need definitely struck. We came across another three groups of Zerx gang members, just roving around like they were itching for a fight.

  The whole thing would have been a lot trickier if they’d bothered to be stealthy at all. But the Zerx were celebrating their victory in whatever clash they’d had with the Kittens. We always had ample warning in the form of laughter, jeers, and even drunken singing on one occasion. Each time, we were in a decent position to duck behind cover and wait out their passage.

  When we were almost to the cattery, Mela spoke up.

  “Don’t go directly for the front door. See that old building with the storefront on the first floor? Head there. We use a side entrance there.”

  I did as she said gladly. I’d been wondering how we were going to get inside the cattery when the Zerx would almost definitely be watching the main door.

  From the outside, the building looked on the verge of falling apart. But when we entered through the back, I realized it was much better appointed inside. The walls were actually in good condition, with no peeling or cracking in sight.

  The innermost room contained a shaft with a ladder to a lower level. Our injuries made that a doozy to handle. Mela went first. I helped her by scooting up to the shaft on my belly and holding onto her arms to give her extra support. Once she was at the bottom, it was my turn.

  I almost told her to leave me up there.

  After all of our shuffling, my leg was killing me. I nearly slipped once or twice when I had to put my weight on it. Thankfully, I didn’t break my neck.

  Not so thankfully, once I finally made it down and turned around, it was to the sight of a grinning Mela and about two dozen guns pointed at my face.

  Joy.