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along with the little bags and place all of it on the coffee table. She swigs the glass back like it’s a shot and scans the bags, counting in her head. Her eyes scroll back and forthagain, counting twice just to make sure.
    “You’re a hundred fifty short,” she states, “I need three hundred.”
    I take a seat in the one uninjured armchair across from her.
    “I got mugged in the street by a guy with messy hair, pale, cute—maybe you know him?” I ask. It’s less a question than a threat. Never let the middle man think they have control. That’s how you keep yourself safe. She tries to act as if she doesn’t know him, but a simple flash of her eyes betrays her. Years of Corp interrogation training works to my advantage. I raise my eyebrows in expectation.
    “I know him, but I didn’t set it up if that’s what you’re implying,” she says, “but he’s my biggest client so I can go after him for the money.” Her tone is almost apologetic. Almost.
    “I want fifteen hundred up front. You sort out the remainder with him, then. We’ve got a deal?” I ask, keeping eye contact. She sighs as she pulls wrinkled bills from her pockets and sticks them on the table.
    “You’re a tough one, Madden, I’ll give you that. Same time next week?” she asks. I nod as she deftly slips the bags into the many pockets of her khaki jacket. It’s cute. I make a mental note to mention the design to Shelley. I spin until my legs are hanging over the side of the chair.
    “Let me ask you, Darcy. What’s the appeal in all of this? People are willing to pay twenty bucks a tab for this shit. Enlighten me,” I say. A glimmer shines across the girl’s eyes. She leans forward, hands rubbing together like she’s getting ready to tell a secret.
    “You ever feel so bad, so shitty and depressed and hopeless, so angry and out of control you’d do anything for it to stop?” she asks.
    David’s face appears in my mind. Before everything, when he still wore that infectious grin.
    “Yeah,” I answer.
    She replaces her hands on her lap. It’s as if we’re comrades now, both fighting the same war. Maybe we are.
    “Regular use of Ten makes that all go away. All of that pain, that anguish, gone in ten little minutes. In our world, why wouldn’t anyone want that?” she says.
    I can only nod my head, not wanting to rebut. A soldier must be strong. A soldier should feel none of these feelings, even if a teammate is killed, even if that someone is your brother. But I still feel it. I like to think it’s the last shred of humanity left in me. I glance at the clock and realize I have to get ready for this meeting with Tor. Darcy takes the hint and stands. We shake hands as we always do, mine rough and calloused while hers the silken smooth of hands never exposed to hard labor.
    “One more thing,” she says before releasing my grip, “That guy, the one who stole from you? Stay away from him if you know what’s good for you,” she finishes, then turns on her heel and struts out the door. That guy.
    I have the feeling she knows him much better than she lets on. Maybe they were lovers. Flashes of his crooked grin invade my brain. I shut my eyes and count slowly back from ten, then open them. Quiet, messy apartment, not a soul around but me.
    Before I hop in the shower, already dreading the chlorine stink of purified water, I check the address on the note Shelley’s left me and grimace:
    It’s above ground.

Chapter Four
    Avoid the Harpy Threat, Live in an underground Elder compound. Safe, secure and radiation free—guaranteed.
    The thing about Harpies is you can’t tell what they are until you’re being torn apart and eaten alive. Years of evolution have allowed them to keep their identities secret. In the times just after the war they’d cut holes in their backs, their rapid cell regeneration covering their folded wings. Now it’s evolved into just another skill to add to the list.
    For years the eyes were a problem, these