Chapter 6: Chapter 4.1

“You were told I live in the slums, correct?” I asked.

“You live where?” he asked.

Oh, this was going to be fun…

I led Alener through the tunnels to the elevator to the slums. By now we were alone. Carly had split for her ride up another plate, Allen two plates above us, and Felix one above. So it would be a quiet ride down to the bottom for myself and Alener. I motioned to the duffle of clothes he had brought. “You may want to change into something other than your uniform,” I said. “People won’t be too friendly towards you dressed like you are now.”

“What? Why?”

How new was this guy? “Your kind isn’t exactly welcome in the slums,” I said.

“My kind?”

“Yeah, your kind. Dead Heads, they aren’t welcome down in the slums,” I said. “My neighbors will murder you in your sleep if they see you in your uniform.”

“They would be arrested and sent to work camps,” Alener said drawing his shoulders up. “The Dead Heads are to be feared. I refuse to change because a few poor cripples would be frightened at the site of me.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “You will change here or you will change in the elevator. If you do not, you will find yourself hard pressed to keep up with this cripple as the others introduce you to Segvug ul vesig Miltzew.”

“Segvug ul vesig Miltzew?” he asked as he unbuttoned his jacket. He spoke the words slowly, stumbling over the syllables.

“It’s Tzi for Teeth of the Dragon and is the name of the slum,” I explained. “What, do they not require you Dead Heads to learn the Tzi language?”

“It’s an optional course,” Alener said.

“What? Didn’t want to understand them as they begged for their lives?” I scoffed.

“Why do you know it?” he asked.

I looked at him sideways. “I live in a slum that was founded by militant Tzis. I picked some up since I came to live here,” I lied. My parents taught me the Tzi language when I was young. They taught me mannerisms, etiquette, everything. I didn’t grow up in a traditional Tzi family, but my father was an excommunicated Tzi and he would have nothing less. He’s the reason I still styled my hair the way I did. My mother wasn’t a Tzi but that hadn’t mattered when the Dead Heads found us. A sympathizer, just as bad a trueblood Tzi. They were both hauled away as I stood across the road with my neighbors holding my arms so I didn’t run across.

My father swore relentlessly in Tzi as they hauled him out kicking and struggling. I sobbed as they beat him into the ground with truncheons and rifle stocks. The last thing he shouted had been directed at me, “vopzin van woflik, rovil.” Make me proud, little one.

“Are you going to turn me in for learning some of a language because of where I live?” I asked.

“No,” he said as he pulled a plain tee shirt on and started unlacing his shoes.

I screwed around in the news feed on my wrist interface while I waited. Mixed in with the government approved stories were the underground stories, hidden as tiny bits of news. Three successful raids against weapon caches, two alliance spies were in the city looking for any information on the work camps, plus a smattering of other smaller things, a successful escape by two Tzi families and new members to the resistance. Some of it was a few days old, but I hadn’t checked recently.

I glanced over to see him stuffing his dress pants into the duffle, now clad in a pair of jeans and a loose grey shirt. He had his sidearm clipped to a belt and a truncheon hanging next to it.

“Done?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said.

I called the elevator and the door opened. I stepped in and he followed me. Well, it’s an elevator, really no need to explain it in super detail. We stepped out two minutes later onto a metal grated floor. Several men sat around talking, they were always there when I got off. Four heavily muscled men, all Tzi, all military deserters and all members of the original militant group that founded the slum. They took note of everyone who entered and left.

“Hey, Tawny,” one of them said. “Who’s your friend?”

The three men around the one that spoke stood, revealing the weapons they hand on them. A modified tire iron, a pistol, a makeshift short sword created from a lawn mower blade and rope, and a pipe.

Alener looked at me. I could see the fear in his eyes as he fumbled for his truncheon.

“You a soldier, pretty boy?” the man holding the tire iron sneered. “Only a soldier would go for his truncheon and not his pistol. Too much paperwork.”

“Na, he’s probably one of them investigative Dead Heads,” the one with the sword said. “Never seen the front lines.”

“Doesn’t know what it feels like to be shot,” the one with the pistol said. He flicked the safety off, the green bar running down the barrel changing to red.

Alener finally managed to get a hold of his truncheon and snapped it out. I could see the fear in his eyes, the end of the truncheon quivering. “Tawny?” he asked. “Help me out, please.”

“I told you, your kind isn’t welcome here,” I said. I took a few steps away as three of the men stepped up to Alener. The sword wielder, the tire iron and the pipe. The man with the pistol stepped over to me.

“Do you want us to deal with him, ivega?” he asked. Sister, he called me sister. The way they through Tzi around so carelessly always concerned me. I would get it bad enough later when Alener was gone for bringing a Dead Head down here, but if Alener wasn’t craven like he made himself out to be, the entire slum was at risk. Segvug ul vesig Miltzew was a slum run entirely by Tzis. Sort of like one big family, everyone had a job. Some, like this group, were guards to protect us from Dead Heads or other threats. Others were there to keep the children safe.

“Please don’t hurt him too badly, segli,” I said. I always remembered my courtesies around Tzis, especially men. They were always so pompous and looked down upon the girls. So I would call him brother and be cautious of how I spoke around him, no matter how disgusted I felt inside.

“You’re always so squeamish,” he tisked.

I heard the air burst from Alener’s chest and his truncheon hit the ground.

I squeezed my eyes shut, bit my lower lip and tried to block out the sound of them beating Alener. If I didn’t bring Alener back with me tomorrow and didn’t have a good reason, I’d be dead by sundown. “If he doesn’t come in with me tomorrow, your sister won’t get her identification,” I said.

The man with the pistol raised a hand and I heard a groan from Alener. A quick glance back revealed the men had stopped beating Alener and stepped back. “I have the mind to turn them on you.”

I held my silence, waiting for him to give a command.

“Get going,” he snarled. “And don’t think I’ll forget this.”

“I apologize for speaking against your wishes, segli, but if I don’t show up with him tomorrow I will be in an extermination camp by sundown,” I said.

Alener picked himself up and limped over to me. Blood ran down his forehead and from his lip.

“Just go, we will speak later,” the man with the pistol said.

I was not looking forward to that conversation. I started walking away and Alener caught up with me. “Why didn’t you stop them?” he said.

“I did,” I said.

“Before it started,” Alener said.

I stopped and turned to him. “I risked my safety speaking up against those men,” I said. “I told you, your kind isn’t welcome here. Dead Heads aren’t welcome in the slums and I can’t offer you much protection. You’ve been beaten, so the others should leave you alone, but don’t think that blood is going to protect you. The men here are like dogs, drawn to the smell of blood. If you keep your head down we should be able to make it to my home without incident.”

He nodded and I started walking again.

“I’ve got some medical supplies at home,” I said.

Alener nodded and I shoved my hands into my pockets. As I led him through all the twists and turns of the slum, trying to keep him away from the large social areas, we ran into a three other groups of arms men. One passed us by with a few dirty looks, but nothing else; one decided to give Alener a few shots on the ribs, but did nothing to me; and one decided that I deserved a few shots, mostly to the legs, for bringing a Dead Head to the slum.

I kind of guess I am a bad guy for not telling Alener that he would be recognized for what he was no matter what he wore. Most of the militant residents were former soldiers from all walks: Dead Heads, Hackers, infantry, a smattering of officers. They knew the look, how the Dead Heads carried themselves, everything. I really could have done more to try to protect him from them at the risk of myself. I should have done more to protect him. Alener was only following orders; he didn’t deserve the beating the militants were dishing out to him. But I lived with these people, I knew what would happen if the Dead Heads ever got a strong foothold in this slum.  If I gave them up to the Dead Heads, god knows what would happen, but I wouldn’t be alive to see the protection of the Dead Heads.

A little girl ran up to us in one of the alleys. “Loovs, teivega,” she said. Hello, big sister. “Why do you have one of them with you?”

Even the small children knew a Dead Head when they saw one. It’s just something they learned from a young age.

“Because I have to, don’t worry, he’ll be gone soon enough,” I told her. “Get going, your mother will be wondering where you are if you’re out too long.”

She nodded and ran off, her bare feet thumping against the metal floor.

“How did she know?” Alener asked. “She was what, seven? How did she know?”

“I’m not saying it again,” I told him. I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw the butcher shop in the distance. Two blocks to go, then I’d be home and I can keep Alener under control. Or at least out of the public site. It was bad enough that half the slum would know I had an active Dead Head in my home and I’d lose business for several months if not permanently. The less interaction he had with people here, the better.

We made it to my home without anymore incident. Although I did have to spend a few minutes convincing him to cross the bridge. Seriously, I don’t know what anyone’s issue is with it. It’s never collapsed. I pushed the door open and froze. Maybe I wanted to take my chances with Alener outside. Vicki, Nick and Kai were in my front room.

I looked between the three of them and Alener. Nick stood up from his spot on my couch and walked over. “Hey honey,” he said. He wrapped his arms around me in a hug and pressed his lips to my forehead. “You remember my sister, Felicity, and her husband, Jason, right?”

“I, uh, not really, it’s been so long,” I said.

“Well, when we heard about what happened last night with the resistance, we came right over,” Vicki said standing. I noticed she was wearing a pair of slacks and a nicer shirt and that Kai was similarly dressed. She walked over to me and gently hugged me.

“What are you doing here?” I whispered, hugging her back.

“Who is this?” she asked.

“This is Lieutenant Alener, a Dead Head assigned to protect me from the resistance,” I said.

“Is he now?” Nick asked.

“I would be, and you are?” Alener asked.

“I’m Tawny’s boyfriend,” Nick said with a smug look on his face. He put his hand on my shoulder and I did my best to smile. “Name’s Henry. So, you’ll be staying the night?”

Alener nodded. “Possibly for a few days, we’re searching for this group and Tawny wasn’t able to provide us with many details,” he said. He looked around my little shack expectantly. The confidence turned to confusion rather quickly as it became apparent I didn’t have the room for guests. “Where will I be sleeping?”

“Well, I think we can squeeze Felicity and Jason into the bedroom if they are staying the night, but there is the couch and it’s not as bad as it looks,” I said. His eyes went wide and Vicki snickered.

The room began to swim for a moment, darkness coming from every side. I threw my arm out, flailing for something, anything to grab onto.