Changed excerpt
CHAPTER 1
KELVIN WILSON stood on the scarred metal deck as the Island Princess powered away from the Southside Dock and turned toward the mainland. The rumble of the ship’s mag-drive engines vibrated up through the soles of his work boots and rattled along the rusting steel chains under his fingers. Bone-deep weariness mixed with evening breeze, pulling his eyes into slits.
Ahead, wispy clouds gathered on the horizon, back-lit by the setting sun, ablaze in incandescent crimsons and yellows. Two state-of-the-art, long-haul freight dirigibles floated as black silhouettes above their mooring docks on the city’s west side. One of the dirigibles carried an LED billboard that read, “Orbital Colonies – Find Your Future.” Kel let his gaze fall away. It wasn’t his future.
A stranger leaned on the railing two paces to Kel’s right and stared toward their destination – New Jax, Florida, in the Southern Alliance, on the Norte-Americano continent. In bygone glory days, Florida had been part of the United States, but those days were ancient, fossil-fueled history.
The ship’s automated system crackled from loudspeakers hung from the bridge. “The current time is sixteen fifty-four. Current temperature is thirty-four degrees Celsius. Current speed is seven point seven-two meters per second. Land-side ETA is thirty-eight minutes.”
“Thirty-nine point eight-seven,” Kel said to no one in particular.
The man stared over his shoulder at Kel in a silent mix of curiosity and sneer.
Kel ignored him. In truth, his new-found mathematical ability spooked him more than a little. He’d experienced few changes in his life that were for the better. People weren’t supposed to start getting smarter for no reason, and he was certain he’d been getting smarter for the past six months – along with other, more subtle changes.
The man returned his attention to the marsh they crossed. A respectable few moments later, he turned and made his way across the gently swaying deck to the passenger compartment, mumbling something about elastic straps for aluminum-foil hats, leaving Kel alone on the bow.
Hot wind whipped through his hair as the boat moved across the marsh on its sixteen-kilometer crossing of the St. Johns from Jackson’s Island toward the 103rd Street Landing dock. Despite the wind and spray, he preferred the open breeze to the interior of the ferry, where between three hundred fifty and four hundred other have-nots and left-behinds rode in the stuffy, cramped, passenger section toward the mainland.
Kel sniffed. A muted change rode toward him on the wind The air carried the far-off promise of cooler temperatures. Tomorrow, maybe the day after, he thought, there would be a storm, sure as the sunset. He hoped it would herald winter’s relief from the relentless heat.
Kel had half a mind to abandon dinner with Troy and head straight home. He’d allowed his friend to talk him into staying too long at the Robot Wars competition last night, and he’d paid for it at work. He’d barely managed to drag himself through the day. His legs felt as though he was walking hip-deep in mud and all things equal, Kel would have been satisfied to grab some take-out, flop on his couch, and catch some screen.
“Lentamente, pass me the money in your pockets and you get off the barco alive, punta.”
Something sharp jabbed against the small of his back. An uncomfortable, ice-on-skin prickle washed over him, like stepping into an over-cooled building on a sweaty day.
His eyelids popped open and his muscles stiffened. Breath caught in his throat and his mouth went dry as his fingers tightened around the links of the chain railing. “Please, don’t.” He shook his head, switching to the combination Spanish-English-Creole that had worked its way from the Miami plague zone up the center of the state and taken root over the last hundred years. “No haga, por favor.”
Leaving the shallow, island-side marsh, the boat churned into the open channel that had been the St. Johns River a hundred years ago. Angling into a course change, the Princess caught a rogue wave blown up by the sunset breezes. Its bow thrust into the air like a huge roller coaster, shoving them toward the sky. Kel leaned forward, knees bent, flowing with the boat’s movement the way he’d learned as a kid on Troy’s parents’ ketch.
Without realizing he’d done it, he calculated the amplitude of the wave from the angle of the deck and the time the bow had risen. He moved away from the blade that scraped across his lightweight jacket, spun on the balls of his feet with more agility than he thought he had and faced his attacker.
The owner of the voice looked no more than fifteen or sixteen. A shock of black hair poked from under a tattered, lightweight, hooded jacket. His lifeless eyes, set in thin, hairless face stared at Kel with an expression that was harder than the deck and colder than the surrounding water.
The bow dived toward the brackish river, trying to drop away from their boots and throwing them off balance. Surprise widened the robber’s eyes and opened his mouth as his footing disappeared. An audible gasp punctuated the moment of weightlessness as the ferry dropped toward the water below. The blade moved to the side when he lost his balance. Kel’s own feet strained for contact with the metal as the sudden weightlessness tried to send his gut into his chest. His one-handed grip on the chain helped him stay in contact with the deck and his bent knees kept him upright as the bow slammed into the water, throwing up a wall of spray.
The force of the thief’s upscale running shoes slamming into the deck buckled his knees and cast him forward. With a sharp, exhaled, “Meidrda!” he stumbled toward the bow. Kel stepped to his left as the hooded man reached for the chain with his free hand, trying to regain his equilibrium and advantage. Realization that a simple armed robbery was spiraling out of control flashed into the young man’s eyes. Determination formed his lips into a tight snarl. The blade glinted crimson in the evening light as it started a path that would bring it point-first into Kel’s stomach.
Kel’s disbelieving gaze latched onto the knife as its projected arc formed into a solid-looking ribbon leading to his abdomen. As he braced himself, adrenaline surged through him. A shiver sluiced down his spine and through his arms and legs, so sharp and electric, he was sure it crackled. He gasped at the sensation.
Around him the world changed.
The knife’s movement slowed until it was an easy matter for him to step out of its path, allowing the deadly steel and the hand holding it to pass by. Kel released his grip on the safety chain. He reached out, grasped the thief’s wrist, and pulled. The young man lurched toward the bow, surreal and slow, as if the air he moved through were suddenly molasses-thick.
Understanding crept over the young man’s face. The spray hung in mid-air around them, the glint off the droplets frozen as they tunneled through. The slow-motion momentum of the ferry crashing into the waves and the resulting loss of balance bent Kel’s adversary over the safety chain at his waist.
The fingers of Kel’s free hand found his opponent’s belt where his faded denim shorts hung low around his hips, exposing gray and purple paisley underwear. In one silky movement, he lifted the young man up and over the safety chain and released his grip. The thief disappeared over the edge of the ferry’s deck toward the violent water below.
As the implications of his actions sank in, Kel stood alone on the bow of the ferry, grabbing his breath in gulps as everything around him returned to normal speed. His hand found the safety chain. Turning, he looked over his shoulder. He was alone on the deck. He glanced up to the bridge. Empty. The A.I. that controlled the ancient ferry was buried deep in the ship’s bowels, in constant contact with the docking facility on both shorelines, the GPS satellites above, and all the surrounding boat traffic on the marsh. No one had witnessed what happened.
With his stomach twisting around itself, Kel leaned over the chain and vomited into the grim, frothy turbulence sliding under the ferry. He sank to the deck, his knees landing hard on the metal surface. His left hand gripped the safety chain with savage ferocity while his right found the upright steel post where the chain was attached. Again and again, coils of nausea tightened his stomach.
Kel remained kneeling on the deck with his head thrust between the chains, his shoulder braced against the steel post until the thrumming of the ferry’s motors changed pitch, signaling they were nearing the mainland shallows on the other side of the river. He stood slowly and wiped the sour remnants of stomach acid and saliva from his mouth with the back of his hand. His throat burned. His knees shook and his vision blurred as he headed toward the passenger compartment.
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