The Yellow Pill Read online

  The Yellow Pill

  By Michelle Chaves

  Text and image copyright Ó 2014 Michelle Chaves

  All rights Reserved

  To my old man

  Table of contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 1

  The dome once again faded back to the darkness of nighttime. The explosion of light was already over. Frey’s stomach clenched, her fingertips burning as they touched the small, white box. Her insides had turned into one huge lump of ice and she was trying, but not succeeding very well in remembering to breathe.

  Only seconds had passed since the drop had touched the ground, and already the place was crowded with dirty and wild-eyed people. Someone grabbed her braid, another’s fingers yanking at her clothes. The treasure was pressed to her chest, with a strength she didn’t know she possessed. Tiny stars obscured Frey’s vision as a punch connected with her jaw.

  She stumbled into a wall, her assailant already coming at her again, spittle flying from his mouth, his eyes bloodshot and wide. The fist moved as if in slow-motion, the ingrained dirt on his knuckles masking the skin underneath.

  Frey ducked. Bones crunched and the man howled as she slipped past. Another man, looking even worse than the first, blocked her escape route. She came in low, twisting as she rammed her elbow into his stomach. Some of his spit and bile hit her in the back of the neck. Frey felt her heart contract as more hands reached for her, their fingers gripping and slipping on the drop’s blank surface. Any minute now, this place would be crawling with gang members from every district…

  A woman barged into her, sending them both crashing into the cobblestoned street to the right. They both punched and kicked while they were still tumbling over trash and through puddles.

  Frey felt the woman’s nose crunch under her sneaker as her kick finally forced the crazed lady to let go. Frey stumbled away from the moaning heap, the others already closing in again.

  The sound of gunfire sounded just around the corner now, the gangs probably working to surround the place or fighting each other to be the first to arrive.

  She ran as if hell’s hounds were behind her, because when the guns arrived, she could kiss her treasure and her life goodbye. She squeezed the drop tighter, cold sweat breaking out from the shear fear of loosing it.

  Her feet took her through alleyways, through skyscrapers and out the back entrances she knew so well. She shrugged off her jacket, using it to cover the package while she ran, trying not to think, least she fancied stumbling into death’s embrace all on her own.

  Frey skidded around a corner and pressed her back into a green and red graffiti covering the entire side of the building. The paint had run at the edges and the Southside tag was there as a warning to others that this was their territory.

  Frey gulped air like a madwoman. She fumbled with the sleeves until they were securely knotted around her chest, then only wasted a few more precious seconds to gulp some more air before, exiting the alleyway. She walked over the street and into the darkness of the next, kicking away the debris and trash when she could, jumping or climbing over it when she couldn’t.

  Street beggars, dogs and rats scattered at the approaching sounds of fighting, and Frey tried to blend in with the mob of people that were moving up and down the street in various stages of panic from the advancing gunfire. She could feel her own fear building, half expecting to have someone grab her shoulder, shove her into a dark corner and stab a blade between her ribs.

  Then something happened she hadn’t expected. The digital sky lit up again, bright as day to allow a second package to slowly float down on its parachute, this time towards the east of the City. The blaring, triumphant music faded at the same time as the sky, and the drop was over as fast as it had started.

  Frey dodged one person after the other as they either tried to rush towards or away from the would-be war zone. She could tell by the frothing, crazed-eyed people pushing past that the only thing they would be fighting for would be the yellow treasure inside the drop.

  She elbowed her way through the mob, keeping close to the edges of the buildings to get more room to breathe. The more sober beggars scrambled out of the way, the rest were trampled, and she knew the alleyway would be littered with the dead and the dying when daylight reached it.

  A woman stumbled among the press of bodies and Frey reached out just in time to grab her arm, keeping a firm hold until the press lessened. She was gone from view in seconds.

  Frey shoved and forced her way towards the next big crossing, jumping over a smashed BMW and skidding around another car, this one upside down and unrecognizably smashed.

  She blended in with a group of youngsters for a while before slipping away to continue along a smaller street, parallel to the first. The sounds of fighting faded. At least as faded as they would ever be in Slum City.

  Frey closed her eyes and breathed in, sweat still running down her temple and dripping from her chin. She shoved her hands in her pockets and walked on, ignoring the mumbling voices and begging hands from the shadows.

  Father Patrick rubbed his eye with one hand, working the latch with the other. She held onto the windowsill, her worn sneakers still doing a pretty god job of gripping the crumbling ledge.

  Father Patrick was old, the oldest one she knew, and yet he had not lived that many years in her eyes. There was always disease, murder, accidents and more that made sure the population was kept down.

  He pulled up the squeaky window with a grunt, allowing Frey to enter. Shadows danced along the walls as he flicked on the lights, the single light-bulb’s lifespan almost at an end. He ran a hand through his graying hair that had more grey than black nowadays.

  ”Sorry to wake you,” Frey said in a whisper even thought the walls were thick. ”But I got you something.” She reached up to untie her sleeves as they sat down at the narrow, crocked table. Frey placed the package on the table, gently after all its rough handling. Her fingertips still burned, and she could almost imagine a glow spreading from the white box. She pushed it closer to him. His shaking hand reached out to touch it, as if he was not quite sure it was there.

  When his fingers made contact he looked up at her, his wrinkled eyes wide, any sign of sleepiness like blown away. ”How did you get one?”

  Frey was looking at the package with a small shake of her head as if she couldn’t quite believe it either. ”Luck,” she said. “Pure damn luck. There was a drop practically at my feet. Over at the west district.”

  Father Patrick sat back in his chair, his hands rubbing his temples hard. “Are you hurt?” He didn’t look up but kept that pose as he waited for an answer.

  “No,” she said, and in spite of herself she grinned as she added; “Still can’t believe how lucky I was! There was a second drop just when I thought they were gonna catch up with me. Probably saved me some bullet holes.”

  “Frey, please don’t joke about this.”

  Frey suppressed the grin, and her slight frown returned as she looked down at the small, white, perfect box sitting on the table like a newly discovered species. The corners
were rounded, and it was startlingly clean compared to everything else.

  “Open it.” Before he could argue she held up a finger in his face. “I took it here for a reason. Please. Just open it.”

  He placed his hand on the package again, just posing like that for a second before unhitching the grey clasps. It opened at the middle with a faint hiss, and a small trail of cool smoke escaped into the air.

  Frey found herself leaning back in her chair as if she could distance herself from the alien object. She tried not to let the chill force a shudder out of her as Father Patrick opened the lid all the way, letting it rest on the tabletop.

  Frey snaked her hand forward and picked up a black object, turning it in her hand.

  A taser.

  Father Patrick pulled out the larger package covered in butcher’s paper. “Brown powder,” he said, stroking his thumb along the precious powdered food like a caress.

  Frey didn’t answer. Her focus was on the last object. A sick feeling escalated in her stomach as she clutched it, wondering how such small things could ruin the lives of thousands. Her hands tore away the butcher’s paper to reveal the yellow pills.

  The excitement at having won the drop was gone, and replaced with cold sweat and an uncomfortable throbbing in her head, bordering on a headache. Frey could feel all the questions starting to stir again, the ones she had tried to suppress. Instead they grew, and now worse than ever.

  Father Patrick covered her hand with his. “Frey…” he said. “Don’t go there. I can see it in your eyes…” he leaned in closer, his voice barely loud enough for her to hear; “You know what happens with those who question.”

  I know…. The problem was, she couldn’t shut her mind up.

  Her fist clenched around the pill package. “Don’t you dare argue,” she said, seeing his expression when she refused to accept the brown powder. “I meant for you and the kids to have it. I’m going up.”

  She sat cross-legged by the low wall surrounding the rooftop. Frey crushed every pill to powdery dust with the heel of her foot. Then a small trickle of precious water was added, and she watched as the mixture foamed and bubbled before sinking down to useless muck at her feet.

  Frey leaned back, knowing she could never shut out the sight of the insane suffering, even when she closed her eyes. Nothing anyone did could dull the reality they were living in. Not even the drugs.

  Even from this height the towering black mass could be seen in the distance. The Wall was massive and threatening in its construction, intimidating and unreachable. It also completely surrounded Slum City. The shifting of the digital dome caught her attention, the illusion of stars more a distraction than anything.

  Damn dome. And damn Wall…

  Frey took a gulp of water from her canteen, a constant companion which had seen better days. The Wall was darker than the night sky, making it a stark contrast against everything else.

  If only I could see the real sky. Frey sighed. Bet it’d be worth it, even if we’d all die… Man, I’d be a goner if anyone knew I was thinking like this… Well, she could think things, couldn’t she? As far as she knew, no one could read her thoughts.

  Looking down at the yellow-brown muck, she was reminded that more questions arose the more she tried to ignore them.

  Frey walked away from the dark corner, her hood pulled up, hands shoved deep into her pockets as she joined the crowd. There was a foul smelling alleyway close by, where a loud argument was taking place between four men. As she passed they stopped yelling and started swinging punches. She didn’t have to turn around to know they were all foaming around the mouths.

  She parted from the slow-moving crowd when the garage came into view. Frey climbed the broad spiraling driveway to the fifth level. The cars were all covered with a thick layer of grease and dirt, and most of the windows were broken. Whatever valuables could have been pried out of the cars were long gone.

  Frey walked to the faded black Volvo. She could see his outline through the driver’s window.

  The door thudded shut, and they sat in silence for a while, just enjoying the mute world inside the car.

  “We haven’t been to this spot in a while,” she said, her gaze fixing on the dirty rear view mirror. Her green eyes stared back at her for a second before she looked at Jin. Frey brushed away some dark, dirty strands from her face.

  “We haven’t been in any of the spots for a long time, Frey.”

  “Yeah, well, you weren’t too happy with me the last time.”

  Jin scratched his short, reddish-tinted beard, bits of dirt falling down to decorate his worn shirt. “I guess not. Anyway, how’ve you been?”

  Her hand came up to rub her arm. She couldn’t decide if she should tell him or not. Last time she had spoken her mind, it had done their friendship little good. Shrugging mentally she decided that he had asked. “I got a drop the other day.”

  His head and body turned as much as the car would allow his tall frame. “You got a drop!? Holy shit! Where is it?!”

  “Well…” Suddenly she wasn’t so sure it had been a good idea. “I gave the brown powder and the weapon to the orphanage.”

  Jin sat rock steady, only his fists clenching a bit. “And?”

  “What?”

  “Was there anything more in it?”

  Frey shrugged with an annoyed frown, knowing they were heading towards another disagreement. “I destroyed the pills, if that’s what you mean.”

  Jin moaned as he covered his face with his hands, leaning back against the seat. The words eventually came out as a muffed croak, with him still looking up at the car’s roof. “Do you have any idea what those are worth? What kind of money-”

  “I knew I shouldn’t have said anything!”

  “What the hell did you expect, telling me something like that!”

  “Jin, seriously. They’re gone. Let it go. I wanted food, and I got it. I don’t need to remind you what those drugs do to people. I’m not promoting that shit. Especially not by becoming a drug dealer!”

  “Well, shit!” Jin clutched the steering wheel, looking the opposite way. “Shit…” He dropped his hands to his knees and sighed, a slow breath that filled his lungs to the max.

  Frey clenched her jaw together to keep the words inside. She knew she shouldn’t say what was on her mind, but she couldn’t help herself and they came out anyway. “Jin, think about it. The packages, where the hell do they come from in the first place? I mean, now I finally got one, and trying to ignore all this is like trying to tell myself fire won’t burn.”

  “Don’t.”

  But she ploughed on regardless, the words almost crawling up her throat on their own. “Who’s sending them through the dome if it’s humanly impossible to be out th-”

  “Don’t you do this to me Frey.”

  “-and who are they? Where are they? Why do we never ever see them?”

  “Stop it.”

  “Why do people keep disappearing whenever they ask-“

  “Shut up!” He yelled in her face, slamming his hand against the steering wheel, making the car rock. “Stop asking questions! Be like everyone goddamn else and stop questioning stuff or next time they might-” Jin snapped his mouth shut.

  “I found another camera,” Frey said, circling her thumb on her palm, watching it create small circles on her dirty skin. “It was built into a street sign.” She shook her head without looking up. “Why would anyone conceal cameras around the City? Who’s watching us, and why?”

  Jin took her head in his hands, forcing her eyes to meet his. “Stop this Frey. You know…” there was a small pause as he swallowed. “You know what happens to those who start asking questions.” He let go and stepped out of the car without another word.

  After he was gone she realized she had not asked how things were with him.

  Even for all his, and Father Patrick’s warnings, she could hear the thoughts echoing inside her louder than ever. One thought rang clearer than the rest.

  Who is making
people disappear, and were do they go?

  Chapter 2

  Frey locked and secured the door as best she could. It was no secret that this building still had running water in the bathrooms, but this was south gang territory, and only a level three gang member was allowed here. Trespassers were often found in some dark corner with a bullet hole between the eyes.

  She left the window open, a lesson she had learnt the hard way. She had always been a good climber, ever since she was a child, and climbing up and down buildings had made it possible for her to reach places otherwise blocked by debris or gunfire.

  The brick wall had proved a challenge, though, since its smooth and well-built sides continued to defy the rules of general decay that seemed to apply to everything else in Slum City.

  The south gang was the smallest of the four; so breaking into one of their buildings was considerably less dangerous compared to the other three gangs.

  Frey shrugged off her dirty, worn jacket, kicking off her boots as she did so, but being careful not to make too much noise. Pants and t-shirt soon followed onto the pile and she stepped into the shower, letting a small whoop of joy escape as she spotted a piece of soap crammed between the pipes.

  Frey scrubbed away at her dirty skin, looking as the brown water draining away through the rusted and bent metal grid. The locked door would buy her some time if anyone were to investigate the sound of running water.

  She dressed and carefully unlocked the door again, listening to make sure no one was outside. Frey hadn’t, however, come all this way just to take a much-needed shower.

  She climbed out the window again, grabbing onto the tiny handholds along the smooth bricks. She fumbled twice before hoisting herself out into the cold night. The dome was glowing from the digital stars, a hazy mist covering the city from the sewers below. The bricks were thankfully not too slippery, but she still only lost her footing once, sending a miniature avalanche of loose cement and brick fragments down into the darkness. She held her breath until she was sure no one had ended up getting the surprise gift on their head, then quickly scrabbled up the fire escape.