| Author: | Andrea Zunino | ISBN: | 9781370384709 |
| Publisher: | Andrea Zunino | Publication: | March 17, 2018 |
| Imprint: | Smashwords Edition | Language: | English |
| Author: | Andrea Zunino |
| ISBN: | 9781370384709 |
| Publisher: | Andrea Zunino |
| Publication: | March 17, 2018 |
| Imprint: | Smashwords Edition |
| Language: | English |
Cassie was sitting on the front steps of her building, inhaling mechanically, dragging smoke from her cigarette with consumed teenage calm, her bright grey eyes rimmed by black mascara lost somewhere very distant. Somewhere beyond the abandoned basket ball court right in front of her, or the bridge behind it.
Cassie was sixteen. At her age time was an entirely dimensionless concept. Hours dripped down the huge basin of human existence with unnatural slowness. Normally, she would have enjoyed the time alone, basking in the lukewarm Australian winter sun, while her mum was at work, and her dad down at the Centre. She would have enjoyed her own oasis of time, because it felt as if it was going to last for ever. Then at night, she’d simply lock herself up in her bedroom and drown out their screams with industrial music.
But today it was different.
Her mum wasn’t at work, and her dad wasn’t at the Centre.
She saw Tara strolling down the street like a stray dog. A dirty, lean, hungry-looking thing, walking almost sideways, her torso constantly half-twisted while she cast paranoid glances behind her for the fear of being followed by someone. Someone like her father.
When Tara was in front of her, Cassie saw from the look on her face that she didn’t know yet, but all Cassie did was nod and say ‘Hey.’
Tara replied with a grunt and sat down next to her, starting to roll one of her own cigarettes straight away. ‘Your mum better?’
Cassie felt the knot form in her throat, but she shrugged and simply let the words slip out very casually ‘She’s dead.’
Tara dropped her tobacco satchel and stared at Cassie, her mouth gaping ‘Fuck…’
‘Yeah.’ Cassie replied. Her left forearm was tingling where the old Motorola tracking chip was implanted. It always did when she was upset or distressed.
A huge airliner banked overhead, so close that the roar of its engines throbbed deep inside Cassie’s stomach. Then other noises came and went: a gang of street kids coming from the Bridge track, clutching multicoloured skate boards, a group of giggling girls; a muttering hobo. And tourists. A constant stream of them. You saw a lot of tourists all year round if you lived in Sirius 10. Sirius 10 was their condo, a bizarre luxury extravaganza for lucky dole-bludgers. Cassie’s father, together with few others had been given the rare chance by the NSW flat-assignment lottery, to live in the only council estate in the Sydney Metropolitan area with spectacular harbour views and terraced balconies like the hanging gardens of Babylon. Their flat was at the base of one of the Sydney Harbour Bridge pylons. Inner city side.
Of all the people slowly walking their way, only the gang of street kids showed a bit of interest. Their leader skidded his carbon fibre skate to a halt right in front of Cassie and paused significantly, his young Eurasian face half masked by bright gold sunglasses. The kid’s million-dollar grin was instantly erased from his face as the boy heard the deep growl coming from the gate behind Cassie. Thor’s huge head had emerged there, between two thick steel bars, his bared fangs and horn-like twin radio implants masking the trimmed ears giving him the aspect of a hell-spawned creature. The kid jumped back on his skate without a word, swallowing hard, and pushed away from the curb so hard he almost fell over, his mates now laughing hysterically at him now. From a safe distance.
Cassie was sitting on the front steps of her building, inhaling mechanically, dragging smoke from her cigarette with consumed teenage calm, her bright grey eyes rimmed by black mascara lost somewhere very distant. Somewhere beyond the abandoned basket ball court right in front of her, or the bridge behind it.
Cassie was sixteen. At her age time was an entirely dimensionless concept. Hours dripped down the huge basin of human existence with unnatural slowness. Normally, she would have enjoyed the time alone, basking in the lukewarm Australian winter sun, while her mum was at work, and her dad down at the Centre. She would have enjoyed her own oasis of time, because it felt as if it was going to last for ever. Then at night, she’d simply lock herself up in her bedroom and drown out their screams with industrial music.
But today it was different.
Her mum wasn’t at work, and her dad wasn’t at the Centre.
She saw Tara strolling down the street like a stray dog. A dirty, lean, hungry-looking thing, walking almost sideways, her torso constantly half-twisted while she cast paranoid glances behind her for the fear of being followed by someone. Someone like her father.
When Tara was in front of her, Cassie saw from the look on her face that she didn’t know yet, but all Cassie did was nod and say ‘Hey.’
Tara replied with a grunt and sat down next to her, starting to roll one of her own cigarettes straight away. ‘Your mum better?’
Cassie felt the knot form in her throat, but she shrugged and simply let the words slip out very casually ‘She’s dead.’
Tara dropped her tobacco satchel and stared at Cassie, her mouth gaping ‘Fuck…’
‘Yeah.’ Cassie replied. Her left forearm was tingling where the old Motorola tracking chip was implanted. It always did when she was upset or distressed.
A huge airliner banked overhead, so close that the roar of its engines throbbed deep inside Cassie’s stomach. Then other noises came and went: a gang of street kids coming from the Bridge track, clutching multicoloured skate boards, a group of giggling girls; a muttering hobo. And tourists. A constant stream of them. You saw a lot of tourists all year round if you lived in Sirius 10. Sirius 10 was their condo, a bizarre luxury extravaganza for lucky dole-bludgers. Cassie’s father, together with few others had been given the rare chance by the NSW flat-assignment lottery, to live in the only council estate in the Sydney Metropolitan area with spectacular harbour views and terraced balconies like the hanging gardens of Babylon. Their flat was at the base of one of the Sydney Harbour Bridge pylons. Inner city side.
Of all the people slowly walking their way, only the gang of street kids showed a bit of interest. Their leader skidded his carbon fibre skate to a halt right in front of Cassie and paused significantly, his young Eurasian face half masked by bright gold sunglasses. The kid’s million-dollar grin was instantly erased from his face as the boy heard the deep growl coming from the gate behind Cassie. Thor’s huge head had emerged there, between two thick steel bars, his bared fangs and horn-like twin radio implants masking the trimmed ears giving him the aspect of a hell-spawned creature. The kid jumped back on his skate without a word, swallowing hard, and pushed away from the curb so hard he almost fell over, his mates now laughing hysterically at him now. From a safe distance.
