Change can be like a punch to the gut sometimes. Nobody likes the initial impact. You get all woozy, feel sick, don’t know where to go; it sucks. But on the rarest occasion, it can be a good thing. It can wake you up to reality.

  I was awake. I was awake and walking, and I wasn’t ever going to close my eyes again… at least not until I was lying on a beach somewhere with the sun on my face.

  Yeah. That dream had gotten lost somewhere in all the shit of the past year, but it was back. And I wanted it more than ever.

  To an older me, the one and a half million was still my ticket. It was waiting for me where I'd left it, nestled in a secret place beneath LowDowns. The easiest thing to do would be to grab it and dash off into the sunset, but I knew now that sum wouldn't be enough.

  Rent, food, clothes, normal everyday shit, the one and half mill had to cover my whole life. It wouldn't buy me a car, not one worth a damn at least, and it wouldn't give me luxuries or protection. It wouldn't even protect me from labor. I'd still have to get a job to supplement my income.

  After all of the shit I'd gone through to get it, all the pain, the misery, the shame and loss, Mackie, my suffering, the only thing that money would buy me was the most basic life possible. Maybe, at one time, that was what I wanted, but a basic life wasn't gonna cut it anymore. I'd earned better than that. And I was going to get it.

  But first, I’d have to leave all of this behind, this little life I’d made for myself here in BorderTown. Somehow, after a bad storm, my little boat drifted into the safety of this harbor, and, while I rested little critters had crawled up and attached themselves to its underside. I’d have to scrape them all off before setting out again. Some of them would be harder than others.

  I gave Milo a sad look behind her back as she stepped off the bus.

  Then the steely behemoth heaved, rolling back down cracked roads until it was lost between the masses of sun-baked high rises. We were left alone, among the derelicts towering above us, burning bright white under the sunlight, each a sad skeleton pocked by impact holes, vacant windows, and empty door frames. This was the last time I'd see this place. A warm wind cradled us as it passed by.

  Milo tugged at my jacket after staring too long.

  "You ready to go?" She asked, curious. I caught her eyes.

  Milo. An idea had been mulling around in my head since the apartment. I wanted to give her something but didn’t know if she’d accept it. But it didn't matter right now.

  "Yeah. I think I am," I said finally.

  We strolled the abandoned streets together.

  The two of us were headed in the direction of the garage, the spot she’d shown me before where her bike was stashed away. Milo was going off on her own while we boys played in the markets. She didn’t know this would be our final goodbye.

  Burnt alleys protected us from the sun while we studied fresh graffiti stained on their plain brick walls.

  "What do you think this says," she asked.

  "That's a picture of a skull," I answered, pointing to a crude black painting. It was huge and amateurish. "And this... is some kind of gang sign. Looks like... Rotbrain Boys." That's a stupid name.

  "That's a stupid name," Milo mirrored.

  "Huh. I've never heard of them before."

  "What's that one say?" Milo asked, pointing to an artless set of lewd words scribbled in red paint.

  "Uh... I don't want to read that one."

  On a side street, where the roads were crowded with dead cars, we crossed paths with a worker on the sidewalk. She wore red and orange robes to protect herself from the sun, with a thick, black gas mask hanging off the side of her face. I’d seen people like her before. They were commuters to the industrial zone and cleaned the inside of giant star ships destined to return to the outer system.

  The woman hobbled by us without much attention, slouched, gasmask hanging off one cheek so her nose poked out. She looked nearly seventy. Milo watched her wide-eyed.

  “You’ve never seen someone that old, have you?” I asked when the woman was out of earshot.

  “Only a few times. She’s all wrinkly. Why was she dressed like that?”

  “She’s a cleaner. Scrubs the inside of starships all day. I think the job is toxic or something.”

  “Starships? What’s a starship?” I scratched my head.

  “Uh. Actually, I don’t know. Big… things that go into space. Like the sky.” I pointed up.

  “Space.” She seemed to have heard that word before. “What do they do up there?”

  “Heh. You got me, kid. Mine asteroids or talk to space aliens or something,” I said, joking. Milo snapped her head up at me, excited to hear more.

  “I was kidding."

  “Oh. Don’t joke with me, Dreamer. It’s mean.” I puffed out an amused breath, surprised at her sudden lack of timidity.

  “What’s up there? Have you been before?” She asked, hopeful.

  “To space? No,” I chuckled, “No, it’s tough to get to. I don’t know what’s up there. Stars or something. I heard you can get a ticket to Mars for… I don’t know how much these days. A lot. But that dream’s a little too far up for my taste.”

  “I’ve heard of Mars. It’s supposed to be pretty.”

  “Yeah, I’ve read the magazines, but I don’t believe a word of it.”

  “Oh? Why not?”

  “Sounds too good to be true. And when that happens… it usually is.”

  “Well, I think it sounds nice,” she said delicately. I eyed her after a moment of sudden silence. Milo was off in a dream again, mind twirling around in space or hopping from foot to foot around Mars. I let her enjoy it in peace for a while as we walked.

  You know, we weren’t that close in all fairness, me and her. She probably wouldn’t even bat an eye if I was gone. Why would she? Then again, my memories told me a different outcome was more likely.

  With Naomi, the humanitarian, my childhood affection, it didn’t matter if I was in love with her or not. That woman was my view out of that terrible little world. She gave me peace... no, that’s not right. There was a better word for it, but it slipped my mind. All I knew for sure was the day I realized she wasn’t coming back… Well, that was not a good day for me.

  And the two of us weren't close. Naomi probably didn’t even know my name, street name, or real one. To her, I was just some slum kid, one of many, she was hired to help. Still, hurt like a son of a bitch to have that hope fade away.

  Hope… That was the word.

  But things were different between me and Milo. She was almost a fully grown woman. I was just a kid. And Milo didn’t care about those things. No one had ever helped her like they did me. They never gave her hope and tore it away like a rug beneath her feet. The WarZone was all there was in her mind. Besides, she had her crew. I hoped that was enough.

  I’d tell her at the halfway point between our bus dropoff and where she’d stashed her bike. We could part ways then.

  In the quiet, while she was still dreaming, I mulled over what I would do with Chuckles and the rest, next.

  They were waiting for me in the markets. My plan was to meet them with the latch box and drop it at their feet. I’d already parsed out the portions for them. I’d educate them on some of the stuff, give some pointers, then I was off. I doubted our goodbyes would be as heartfelt.

  The markets were in the southwest, south of where we were headed, where the effects of WarZone were the least present. The spicers, nomads from the wastes who rode in long caravans, came to roost once a year there to sell their wares. The spicers brought in all kinds of unusual things, found out beyond the wastes.

  But the markets were a good place to sell, too. I made a lot of money the year prior, thanks to them. Chuckles and the rest would do well… If someone like me could do it, a feeling in my gut told me they’d make it.

  “Hey, Dreamer?” Milo broke my concentration.

  “Huh? Yes, Milo?”

  “You think I'll look like her one day?” The question threw me off. The old woman? Technically, yes. A stabbing pain in my chest told me the chances of that happening for Milo… but I stomped the idea down.

  “Yeah, if you get old enough. Do you want to look that old?”

  “I don’t know. They look weird.”

  “Who? Old women?” I asked, amused.

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, that doesn’t happen for a long time. Don’t worry about it.”

  “I’m not worried. You know, you kind of look old.”

  “Is that so?” I asked, annoyed. She hadn’t even realized what she’d said was offensive.

  “I mean, you have wrinkles like they do.” I touched my face instinctively, a sudden pride rising from the sensation of the wrinkles around my eyes. They were barely there, but they were there. Signs of a long life.

  “I guess I do. I look weird, too, then, huh?”

  “No,” she said timidly, “I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant… I don’t know.”

  “That’s alright. I’m old. And proud of it.”

  Just then, the sounds of bike engines cracked somewhere in the distance. Our heads swiveled instinctively. Flashbacks fought their way up from somewhere dark…

  I took a breath. They were too far off to concern us. But Milo, startled, obsessively double-checked the street behind us. The poor girl was terrified.

  “It’s alright, Milo. They’re too far off for us to worry,” I reassured her. Probably chasing some poor soul or scaring a neighborhood they're passing through.

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  Milo looked up at me and nodded, her expression changing to match mine. She trusted my words. I didn’t like that kind of responsibility. I sighed.

  Of all the people to meet in my time in BorderZone, it had to be Milo.

  Sometime later we ambled back onto a side road, where the street was narrow and the buildings were short. The sun crept in over the rooftops, showering us with gold. I recognized this place. We were getting close.

  While we trudged along, from a pocket Milo pulled out a brick wrapped in Telofane packaging.

  Telofane was a food production company. I’d seen their logos at the corner store, except they didn’t make actual food. This was one of their nutrient blocks, gelly filled packages shaped like house bricks. They tasted awful but would last two hundred years.

  Her packaging was a little different from the store's. It read: from Halifax Repository. A food repository issue, handed out at food banks. There was a very well-guarded food bank in NorthBlock. I wondered when she’d gone there.

  “I don’t know how you can eat that crap,” I said, finally, trying to air out my head. She looked up after snapping off a portion of the corner with her teeth. Jelly stuck to the corner of her mouth.

  Through jellied teeth, she said, “It’s good. You want some?” She happily raised the block to me, offering a corner, but I waved her away.

  “No. God. That is nasty.” It had no odor, but my body expected there to be a bad one. Milo took it back, holding it like a precious egg in her hands. She was smiling.

  Meanwhile, her gaze wandered curiously over the street around us. Burned stores, signs smashed on the streets in piles of glass... When the breeze picked up, it whistled in hollow places.

  WarZone was taking this place over, slowly, street after street like some incurable rot. Nobody lived here now, but eventually, slummers would hide inside these derelicts, and gangers would take their thrones in the streets.

  Milo didn’t see it that way, apparently.

  “What do you think this place was before it was like this?” She curiously inspected the shells of buildings as we passed, staring up at their heads and peering into their burnt-out mouths. There was wonder in her eyes.

  I took a second to look around myself, trying to imagine what it looked like before.

  “Hmm. I don’t know. Some kind of business sector maybe. Probably full of people. All these buildings… They used to be filled with people. Cars riding up and down these streets all hours of the day. Most of these holes would have windows, see there. A couple stores on ground level–”

  “No, I mean, do you think it used to be fun here?” I gave her an odd look.

  “I wish I could see what you’re seeing. No, it wasn’t fun. It was like any other part of the city before whatever happened happened.”

  “I don’t know what that means, but it still sounds cool to me,” she said, gnawing off another bite of gelatin. I took another look around.

  There was history here, but only ghosts came to me. Drooping heads bustling along sidewalks. Hustlers sitting on the curbs offering different stolen products. Announcements buzzing in the alleyways.

  I’d seen it a hundred times before.

  “Yeah, Milo? And what do you know about fun?”

  “I have fun,” she protested.

  “Okay. Where? What do you do?”

  “There’s fun stuff to do around here. You have to find it, though. Like, there’s a place I visit sometimes, high up. It’s nice cus I can look down and see the city for miles around. There's stuff to climb, um, a train comes through. I put stuff on the tracks to watch it get flattened. Uh. I know a good place to throw rocks at birds.” A smile cracked its way over my lips and I turned away to let out a raspy laugh.

  “What?” She asked. The image of her pelting birds with stones was weirdly funny. Especially someone as soft-hearted as Milo.

  “Nothing,” I said, trying to keep it together, “You shouldn’t do that. They don’t like that.”

  “Oh, okay.” She took another bite. “Do you think the other side of the city looks like this? Like on the other side of those tall, tall buildings?” Her mouth smacked at each word with horrible tasting gelly.

  “I don’t know. Maybe.” It had occurred to me that maybe that’s how the city ended. “I’ve never been to that side.”

  “Why not?” Her cheeks puffed with gelatin.

  “Cus they have these big walls and gates and all other kinds of stuff I can’t explain to you. Makes it hard to travel. Probably not worth it anyways.”

  "But you've been so many places. You should go there, too."

  "Maybe I will some day. Have you ever been anywhere outside of… here,” I asked.

  “Only with you. That was pretty cool. I saw so many people. So many cars. Hey, you think I could ever get a car?” She asked, suddenly excited. Her mind was going a mile a minute. It was strange to see her like this...happy.

  “I don't know. They’re expensive. Cost a hundred thousand for a cheap one.”

  “Oh, so that’s why you haven’t bought another one?” She asked, innocently.

  “Uh, yeah.”

  “That would be cool, though. I want a really fast one. I bet we could limit burst down these streets,” she said, her eyes glazing over with thoughts of burning engines and smoking tires. Burst limit was a biker term for exceeding a machine's speed limiters. Now she was talking my language. I think I like this kid.

  “You’re trouble,” I smirked. I’d never thought of that. We could go pretty fast down these streets. Maybe even push the speedometer to its full… at least until someone blew out our tires from the shadows.

  “Yeah, that would kick ass,” I said.

  But I sighed. That was just a dream. This would be the last time I’d see little Milo. If you’d asked me a week ago about her, I’d have told you, “Who cares? Mind your own business.” But the little turd… she’d grown on me. I hated to say it, but it was true.

  I almost said something about it to her, but the thought of her reaction kept me quiet. It was silly, but I was nervous she wouldn’t care at all if I left. For some reason, that idea frightened me. I don’t know why.

  “You have any friends here, Milo?” I asked, hoping for a specific answer. She looked up at me, curiously.

  “Friends? Um… I don’t know. Do–”

  “No, the gang doesn't count. I mean normal friends. People who don’t hit you.”

  “Oh.” She picked at her nutrient block with a finger. “Stefi is my friend, I guess. She’s mean, though.”

  “Then she doesn’t count. I mean people who like you. People you like.”

  “Oh,” she said, hopeful, looking up at me. “I like you.” I knew she was going to do that.

  “No, Milo. We’re not friends.” Her face dropped. “I mean, I’m too old to be your friend. Nobody around your age?” Why am I even asking? The answer is only going to depress me.

  “Not really, I guess.”

  “You don’t have anybody to watch your back? What about… parents?” She shook her head without much care.

  “You don’t know em? Or they aren’t…”

  “I don’t know. I saw em once. I can still remember their faces. Don’t remember much after that.” She clearly didn’t want to talk about it. “Why are you asking me all this stuff, Dreamer?”

  “Just curious. Wondering what you do all day.” That was only a half lie. A part of me wished she would say something like, “Oh yea, I have a secret family who loves me and takes care of me.”

  “You don’t have anything in your life that makes you happy?” Her eyes lit up, as if her answer would appease me.

  “I have this secret place where I put my stash of stuff. It’s really cool. Got all kinds of stuff stashed there. I found this bike chassis, full chrome. Came off a ganger's rollerbike. And it’s in one of those tall factories, hidden somewhere up high so I can see for miles around if somebody's coming. I’ve got tons of magazines I found there, a mattress and stuff I can look at.

  "I only go there sometimes but when I do it makes me happy,” She spouted, looking up at me hopeful, even boasting a bit. That smile... It broke me. All of a sudden, she transformed right before my eyes.

  In WarZone boys and girls grew up fast. Milo had to be a woman pretty early on in her life to survive all this time. But right then, for once... she looked like the girl she really was.

  It felt like a serrated shovel stabbed my heart.

  Her eyes softened as she examined my expression. She didn’t understand. I was supposed to approve, to be happy with her answer. Thoughts ran wild behind those brown eyes as she tried to understand what I was feeling.

  I couldn’t stand to look at her. Fuck. I thought to myself, twisting away in anguish. I can't do this anymore. Now’s as good a time as any. Let's get this over with. Painfully, I met her gaze, and stopped her with a hand. She looked worried.

  “Put that away,” I said, motioning at the food block. Promptly, she wrapped it up, her face growing serious. I waited until she wiped her mouth to say anything else.

  “Listen, Milo. This place... I don’t know how but you gotta get out. Go. Go far away. If you stay here… nothing good will come of it.”

  “I don’t understand–” Milo wasn’t sure what bad thing was happening to her.

  “I mean leave. I don’t know how. I don’t care how. But you get out of here as quick as you can."

  "W-where do I go?"

  “It doesn't matter. Somewhere where you feel safe. And if you can't leave for some reason, then take care of yourself. I don't care how or what rules you break. Live. You’re on your own, Milo, don’t forget that. No matter who you think your friends are. You’re all you’ve got."

  “Why are you telling me this, Dreamer?”

  “I’m leaving Milo. And I’m not coming back.” The answer cracked the tension like a board finally snapping. She had no reaction. I was a bit relieved... and hurt.

  "You can do this... You’re almost as old as I was when I struck out alone. Someone gave me the skills I needed to survive, but I can’t give that to you. Though, I can give you this.”

  I reached into my pocket and gripped my revolver. I’d been giving this some thought for a while.

  “You’re old enough now. It’s time to learn to use one.” I pulled it out and showed her while I spoke, “This is the safety. Push it and the gun is ready. Cock back the hammer and pull the trigger. Easy.”

  I laid it in her open palms. To her, it was like a hand grenade I’d just primed. When her eyes found mine, they were uncertain, unsure, and afraid.

  “Only use it when you absolutely have to, but I promise you it will save your life in a place like this. I know it did mine. The gang will teach you the rest of the skills you need to make it out here, but don’t ever trust them, Milo. Only trust this,” I said, pointing to my head, miming the same action my teacher had taught me so long ago.

  "And when things get desperate, you remember that happy place. Hold it close to you because it will keep you sane. I know that better than anyone.” With my impromptu speech at a close, I waited for her response.

  Milo was unsure.

  Her eyes fell on the gun again with no expression. I almost thought she wouldn’t say anything, thought she’d think I was crazy for even caring, but then…

  She looked up with glossy eyes, “You’re leaving?” I nodded.

  “When?”

  “Now, Milo. This is where we part ways.” The words looked like they cut into her, the way she winced at them. She looked at me like I was a book in a foreign language.

  “Why? Where are you going?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “And you’re not coming back?”

  “That’s right.”

  Hesitating, “C-Can’t I come–”

  “No, Milo you can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because. We’re strangers, Milo. I can’t save you. I can barely take care of myself.”

  She was quiet for another moment, looking down at the ground. It was a long minute before I realized tears were falling into her palms, jumping down from her cheeks onto the cold steel barrel of the revolver one by one. I was about to say goodbye and end this misery for both of us, but then...

  A thick punch landed in my guts. It actually knocked the wind out of me.

  “Ow. Fuck.”

  “Fuck you, Dreamer!” She exploded. "You're leaving? Just like that? You selfish asshole!" Her voice had lost that timid softness. The fury echoed into the empty highrises.

  "I'm sorry-"

  I shielded myself as another impact, this time with the butt of the gun, wracked against my shoulder. The plastic handle was heavy and thwapped my shoulder bone.

  “Shit. What the fuck, Milo?” She hit me a couple more times, chasing me onto the sidewalk before she stopped, heaving angered breaths.

  “What do you want from me, Milo? Huh?” I shot back angrily, shoulder pulsing, “You’re a kid. What am I going to do, bring you with me to a halfway house in LowDowns? We’re strangers, Milo. Get over it.”

  “You’re an adult. You can do whatever you want,” she spat through gritted teeth. I hadn’t ever seen her like this. My rage subsided with the aching in my shoulder.

  “I’m sorry, kid. I can’t take care of two deadbeats.” Her jaw trembled with rage; she was absolutely disgusted with me.

  “Fuck yourself, Dreamer. Go ahead. Leave. Take care of yourself. It’s all you’re good for.” She trembled, flashing around, and storming down the sidewalk without a second look. I watched her go, shoulder thumping, heart pumping, head pulsing with angry thoughts.

  Then, it was over. I didn’t chase her. She didn’t want me to. I just watched her go, confused, angry, hurt, sad… a whole bunch of other stuff I couldn’t even begin to understand. Most of all, I wondered if I had done the right thing.