Page 4 of The Fall

“Every man we’ve found is infected,” Sesi explained. “Which means what your Uncle Sparx has made and arse of himself by telling my teenage daughters about useless penises.”

“It’s not too late to kill him,” Talia said under her breath to Lusa. Lusa snickered, happy to share her approval. Her vendetta against her sister had been temporarily set aside and now she hoped Pinga would continue.

And she did. “Then why do you use penises?”

Sparx twirled his head around frantically looking for help. Callie continued to avoid his gaze. Talia glowered. Lusa stared, unblinking and expectant.

Finally, Sesi broke the tension. “Most women like it when men do that.”

“Do you like it when they do that?” Pinga now directed her questions to Sesi. Sparx’s shoulders relaxed.

“No. Your moms and I aren’t most women. That’s why you’re here.”

“What about the other moms?”

Sesi blew out her cheeks. “They’re uninfected, but like your Uncle Sparx. They still use your Aunt Jenni because that’s the only way right now.”

“Most women are straight,” Sparx added.

“So, I shouldn’t put one of those in me?” Pinga narrowed her eyes. By now, Lusa understood enough, even if she had zero desire for penises or babies, but Pinga always was a bit slower.

“You can do whatever you want with your body.” Sparx said. “When you’re old enough!” he added quickly. Callie struggled to hold Talia back.

Lusa nearly vomited a little. Pinga would absolutely take that as implicit permission to try everything, just to see.

“Sparx isn’t wrong. We really should have told them a lot more by now,” Callie said.

“Why? It’s not like there’s any point.” Talia’s body language suggested that the only thing preventing her from strangling Sparx was Callie holding her hand.

Callie stopped in the middle of the market. “And two girls ran off with trader boys last year. Way too young, I might add.” She crossed her arms. Pinga and Lusa knew that meant she was standing her ground. Sesi and Talia did too. “We need to have a proper discussion with them.”

“Fine. But not until we get home,” Sesi conceded. “There are things that shouldn’t be said in public.”

Lusa looked around. The public was only dilapidated stalls made from broken Hexaline bricks, chain link and corrugated metal in the shadow of a fancy megabuilding – The Glacier. Even Lusa had heard of it. If you had the scrip, you lived there and you never left. The only entrance was at the top from a helipad. She doubted the rich cared whether her family was bickering.

Talia seemed less amenable to the idea, but it was two against one. “Let’s finish shopping and get out of here. Siku’s blowing up my Opti asking where we are.”

Yet the Traitor Stands in Worse Case of Woe

She’s one of us now!” Piston swept her up to the bar and into a bracing hug with his metal arm. Titanium ceramic composite, built himself with scrap from the very junk pile Kerr had just found.

Kerr reddened, but relished the accolades. It distracted her from the soreness in her feet. Her mother’s combat boots were too big, but seemed fitting for such a grand occasion. She knew Saoirse would be proud of the two new circles branded just under her left eye

“Caoimhe was always one of us, dad. She was born here,” Chalice slunk around the other side of Piston, leaning her elbows on the great block of rusted iron that functioned as a bar top.

Typical pettiness, Kerr thought. She’d thought that a lot lately. Thought about leaving. But that’s all they were. Thoughts. And their current situation made it more difficult.

“Kerr,” Piston corrected. “She’s Kerr now.”

Kerr flicked her eyes between Chalice and Piston, grateful he’d said something. It itched that he had to.

“You were born here too.” Piston reminded his daughter. The quiet gruffness in his voice said everything. He wouldn’t push too hard, but everyone knew Chalice’s mother was a sore point. Piston might have organised the Chargers and gotten most of them off of Chem, but Lydia hadn’t been among them. Chalice had never quite forgiven her for it. Or Piston. Or Kerr.

Kerr tried to project something like sympathy through her eyes, but Chalice was staring off into the middle distance, lost in her Opti and ignoring them both.

She thought she saw the hint of a smirk before the clink of glass on metal interrupted her borrowed family drama. A shot of ethanol appeared, along with Greasegun’s smiling visage. “Congrats.” They arched and lowered their eyebrows. “Now you can drink here while you complain about her.” Greasegun tilted their head toward Chalice as if she couldn’t hear them.

The phantom smirk became a scowl. “Fuck you, Grease.” Chalice pushed herself off the bar. She stole Kerr’s shot and downed it. “I’ll be upstairs.”