Flash Fiction #3: Speaker with the Dead
Karlissa Doanekai padded up the circular staircase, her feet all but silent on the rusty steps. The subway tunnel receded below as she climbed to the rear entrance of her parents’ gift shop. The rear door stood slightly ajar, allowing a sliver of light to escape. She pushed the door open, squinting against the glare as she slipped into the stockroom.
“Welcome back, sis.”
She recognized her brother’s voice. If Jerrod was here, Zachary couldn’t be far. The two friends were virtually inseparable. She blinked as her eyes adjusted. “I came as fast as I could. Zack wouldn’t say anything specific over the phone.”
“Smart move.” Jerrod tossed his clipboard onto a ramshackle desk, bolted — almost as an afterthought — to the central shelving rack. Boxed product adorned every available space, with the overflow piled waist-deep on either side of a single door leading from the stockroom into the shop. “Looks like we finally caught a break.”
Karlissa scooted to the doorway, peering inside. Perplexed, she pivoted to face him. “Where’s Zack? He said he’d meet me here.”
Jerrod gave a casual shrug, but she sensed his tension, his eagerness. “He’s waiting for us topside. He’ll fill you in.”
Karlissa nodded and they scurried through the shop, dodging customers, seeing but not acknowledging her parents behind the counter. A flight of stairs, a forty-yard speed-walk, one final up-ramp, and they emerged from the Sunken City into the bustling chaos of Wharfside Market.
“Took you long enough.” Zack’s voice erupted close to Karlissa’s ear and she jumped. Zack retreated a step. “Sorry. I’ve been waiting here ever since I phoned.” He glanced around the busy street, his lip curling. “Apparently, some of our fellow Covians don’t approve of Asukans loitering —”
“You’re sure he’s a legit Speaker-with-the-dead?” Karlissa felt a tingling in her fingertips; she tried to keep her voice steady. “I don’t want to cause a scene for no reason.”
Zack gestured and they fell in step with him. “I asked Old Man Winston the same thing — twice, just to be sure.” He rolled his eyes. “Let’s just say he didn’t appreciate me repeating the question. It’s been a while since I’ve been cussed out in ancient Asukan. Winston is convinced the Speaker’s legit, and I trust Winston’s judgment. He is an Elder, after all.”
Jerrod cut in. “Any idea where we can find the Speaker?”
“I know exactly where to find him,” Zack replied. They paused at the next intersection, waiting for the traffic lights to change. “He’s with a woman; his wife, Winston thinks.” He pointed to a pub about a half-block west. The traffic light changed and they hurried to cross the street. “They’re having dinner. And — just saying — he looks kinda young to be a Speaker. Not much older than me.”
Gift matters, not age, Karlissa almost said. “I’ll approach them … alone.” She was the eldest; the responsibility was hers. “Three Asukans crashing their dinner date isn’t very subtle.”
“What if he refuses?” Zack held the heavy door open for her. “Maybe he’s no better than his old man — may he rot in prison.”
Karlissa hesitated in the doorway, and Jerrod answered instead. “Do we have a choice?” His golden eyes looked haunted. “There are worse fates than dying.”
Karlissa stole a glance at him, eyes burning with unshed tears. Without another word, she stepped over the threshold, leaving her companions to wait outside.
The door whooshed shut with a solid thud, cutting off both sunlight and traffic noise. The ambience of muffled conversations and recorded music filled Karlissa’s ears. She blinked as her eyes adjusted to the pub’s artificial twilight.
She meticulously scanned the customers seated at the bar, then the diners at their tables, every sense alert for the telltale aura of a Speaker-with-the-dead.
Her fists clenched when she spotted him.
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