Chapter 12: Cruelty By Firelight

Exhausted, Karma trekked forward. His legs felt like lead, his ears were drooping, and his breathing was harsh. What time was it? He didn’t know. His phone died hours ago. He had been trying to find his way back to his block through a labyrinth he’d only ever seen from above. On top of that, he was trying to avoid the guards. 

“HEY!”

Karma heard a guard shout nearby and he ducked into the shadows, the sled with his findings dragging behind him and scraping the earth with too much noise. He pressed himself into a wall, staying out of sight as the aggressor and his partner dashed past him to kick out some poor soul’s barrel fire. 

“This one was regulated, sir!”

“Not anymore, it was rotated just this evening. Now beat it or I’ll beat you, Filth!”

Karma watched in horror as the man they went after struggled to leave in time due to not having the strength. He flinched and looked away as the baton came down and the man cried out. 

Whack! Whack!

The sound made his stomach turn. He wanted to step in, especially as the guards laughed, but he couldn’t risk getting caught. He covered his mouth, staying as still as possible, his other hand resting on Clever in his pocket to keep her silent. Soon the screaming had stopped and was replaced with quiet sobbing. The guards had left, satisfied. 

After waiting a moment, Karma went over to the man on the ground, gazing at his weak and bloodied body. He kneeled down and began to work, cleaning his wounds with what was left of his water bottle and using scrap fabrics he had collected to bandage them. Thankfully, muscle memory kicked in and he was able to take care of the man as best he  could, even cleanly stitch a couple wounds using a needle, some thread, and his blue cat fire to sterilize. “Thank you, kind stranger…” The man choked out weakly. Karma didn’t answer. 

Clever at some point left Karma’s pocket and came back with some food scraps for the man. Once Karma finished, he helped him get somewhere safer. Then he left again to find his way—more cautious than before.

With the sled he couldn’t take to the rooftops, though it may have been easier. That left him fumbling on the ground, tripping over his own feet and scrambling in the pitch black to stay unseen by the guards’ spotlights. His night vision had kicked in, but with little light to absorb, it was still fairly black. He was relying more on his whiskers, ears, and nose. To add to it, he was fatigued and his wounds were burning, desperate to be cleansed from the incoming infection. 

He dashed from corner to corner, pausing with his back to the wall to listen or smell around. Footfalls in the darkness made his ears swivel in the direction. The smell of rust and mold drowned out any hint of a patrol below it. At some point a dog someone smuggled into the underground barked at him unexpectedly, causing his fur to bristle as he jumped forward a bit. “Damn dog,” he hissed under his breath, finding an area to loosen his nerves.  

Karma was peeking around a corner when:

“Sir, what are you doing?”

He swore under his breath, glaring at the ghost boy behind him. “Seriously?? Paxton, I’m not joking about that bell anymore. You need one. Badly.” He muttered, tails lashing which caused the sled to hop slightly with a dull thud. “I’m trying to find my way back, if you so need to know.”

“Oh. You’re going the wrong way, then. You’re heading for Block 6 not Block 9. Are you dyslexic, Sir?”

STAAAAAAAAARRRREEEE.

“Paxton. No I’m not fucking dyslexic. There’s no fucking signs, Paxton. How could I have mixed up 6 and 9, Paxton? There’s nothing to fucking read, Paxton.”

The ghost boy blinked at the sheer annoyance Karma displayed. “Oh. Wow. I’m glad I found you cigarettes. You’re a jerk when you haven’t smoked.”

Karma took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. “...Sorry. It has been a day I want to leave behind. Also, yes, I haven’t had a cigarette since early this morning. It’s been almost 24 hours. I am… Not in a great mood.” He took a second to look around. He didn’t want to be in one place too long. 

He began moving again, knowing Paxton would float close behind. He was on high alert, ears constantly rotating to catch any sounds. “You seem a little tense, Sir.”

“Oh do I now?!” 

“...Yes…?” 

“No shit, Pax! They can't see you, you're lucky!” Karma hid behind another wall, hoping Paxton would tell him if he made another wrong turn. He pressed himself further as a patrol swept the area, holding his breath. He immediately changed locations after they passed by, recollecting himself. 

Before Paxton could respond, a loud scream echoed off the broken concrete before it went disturbingly silent. Karma felt his ears pin as he stared in the direction. A body on the ground. A blue light coming from it. Thanks to his necromancy, he could see it. The moment someone left their physical body. 

“Oh.”

He found himself staring as the spirit fully formed, a woman. She spotted him staring and rushed over, seemingly confused at first. “Please, you need to help me..! I'm injured! I need to see my baby! Please!” But before she could reach him, something seemed to click on her mind and she stood suddenly still, eyes dulling. “....I don't hurt anymore… I…am I…?” 

Karma didn't mean to but he wasn't sure what to say, so he just stared. That gave her the answer she didn't want to know. “....I died? My poor baby…. He's 15. His name is Winston. I wanted to bring him food … You– Cat, you can see me? Please help my baby…. Let him know Momma loves him.”

Then she was gone. Her spirit didn't linger like Paxton's did. The air felt colder and more hollow. Karma tore his blue eyes from where she was standing to her body still bleeding on the ground. “....okay…” He muttered to no one in particular. 

He wasn't usually one to run an errand like this, but seeing this woman's final moments made him want to find the kid. He couldn’t live comfortably with himself if he didn’t. He would do it tomorrow when he could get a lead. In the meantime, he didn't know what to do but he wanted to put her body to rest. He thought for a moment before hesitantly kneeling near the body and lighting it ablaze with his blue fire. He increased the temperature to which the heat was even affecting him, the azure flames licking up his arms. 

Soon her body turned to ash. Karma looked away but finished the job. His nose crinkled at the smell. Turns out, there was something worse than a mountain of garbage. He met eyes with Paxton, both sharing a pained understanding. Then Karma continued on solemnly. He would find Winston. For sure. He knew what it was like to feel abandoned. He wasn’t going to leave a child with that feeling. 

“Come on… Let’s get home… “ He continued moving, less vigor in his step. He glanced upwards at the high ceilings of the cavern, but he was gazing past it to the clean and pristine streets of Dene. He reminisced about his time living there, and yet now he had a wider perspective. As he slept soundly in a cushioned bed with soft pajamas, people were right below him fighting frostbite and batons. “Disgusting…”

—-------------------------

With Paxton’s help, Karma made it back to Block 9. Mira rushed him, checking him over immediately. “Kitten! We’ve been worried! You gave poor Agnes a heart attack with how long ya been gone!”

Karma didn’t say much. He didn’t really look her in the eye. Mira didn’t push, but was absolutely concerned. “Oh, Kitten…Shoulda had someone go with ya, you just fell not too long ago.”

“It’s…”

A beat. 

“It’s fine. I’m fine. It’s just been a long and stressful day. I’m gonna try to have a hot shower before the pipes freeze and I’m gonna go have a cigarette before bed. I’ll be better tomorrow. Here’s your stuff.” He untied the sled and began to head towards the lift he created, his body heavy. 

“Wait, Karma. Here. Ya did good, Kitten. It’ll get easier as ya improve yer skills.” She shoved blankets filled with food into his weary arms, earning no complaints. He nodded and hopped onto the lift he spent the previous day making. He strained to start it but once the rope began moving, the electronics he installed kicked in and began to raise him. Once it got to the top floor, his floor, he climbed onto the balcony. He fell onto his back and just laid there a moment before weakly getting up and regathering the food he dropped in the collapse. He got inside his loft, suddenly loving the rundown safety net. He set everything down with a sigh. 

Then went back onto the lift—the communal showers were 7 floors down after all. Once he finally arrived at the showers, he turned the water on. He stood beneath the flow with his clothes on, hoping to wash the garbage off them and himself at the same time. It was nice and hot at first, easing his aching muscles. But two minutes in, the water turned to ice and felt like needles on his injuries. No matter, he needed it, so he let it happen anyway. 

Afterwards, he was clean and his injuries stung less, but he was completely chilled to the bone. He feebly made it back to the lift, brought himself back to his loft, and scaled the balcony railing once more. He headed inside and went to light his makeshift stove, only to discover the potatoes he left to form chips were absolutely burnt with no one to tend to them for hours. He swore under his breath, taking the metal sheet off the stove to deal with later. Then tossed some wood he collected into the belly of the stove and lit it with his flames, blue light dancing across the room. He stripped down and left his sopping clothes by the fire, sitting nearby and letting the warmth hit his skin. He finally let himself light a cigarette. 

“Tomorrow’s another day…”