A little small talk

We opened the door of the hideout, and as usual, everyone looked our way. I was beginning to wonder how many people took shifts to protect this place. There were always at least a dozen people awake at any given time, eyes sharp and weapons within reach. The Undercity never slept, and neither did the Atreides, it seemed.

Lloyd rose from his sofa, a worn-down piece of furniture that somehow looked like a throne when he sat in it. Those red eyes of his scanned us both as he approached, his white hair catching the dim light of the chemtech lamps that hung from the ceiling. When he saw the shallow cuts on Cole's forearm and the dried blood on his knuckles, he began scratching his head, a gesture I was starting to recognize as frustration.

"Seriously Cole, I'm telling you to grab a weapon. Even just a damn club. One of these days, those bare hands of yours won't be enough."

"I'm fine," Cole responded, his voice as immovable as his massive frame. The way he said it suggested this was a conversation they'd had many times before.

Lloyd sighed, an exhalation that somehow managed to sound both annoyed and concerned. "Whatever you say," he muttered before turning those unsettling red eyes to me. "So how much did you make?"

I dug into my pockets with fingers that felt clumsy and pulled out the seven bronze coins. Lloyd took them faster than I could blink, holding one up to a chemlight that glowed with an eerie green luminescence. The coin gleamed dully in the light as he inspected it.

"Damn," he said, a hint of genuine surprise in his voice. "I knew you were a cute kid, but this is really good for your first time."

Was I the only one who thought that sounded weird? A chill ran down my spine despite the stuffy air of the hideout. Though I supposed looking pitiful helped when asking for handouts.

"Yeah, you're going back tomorrow, until then—"

GRRRR

The loud protest of my empty stomach interrupted him mid-sentence, the sound seeming to echo in the sudden silence. Several gang members looked at each other, then at Lloyd, and finally at me. Some smirked, others looked away, uncomfortable.

"Oh, that's right," Lloyd said, raising an eyebrow. "You haven't eaten."

"AND WHO'S FAULT IS THAT?!" I wanted to scream at him. Two days of barely any food, being dragged around the Undercity, nearly dying from the gray, killing someone with my bare hands, watching my mother die, and this man acted like feeding me was an afterthought. But I kept my mouth shut, swallowing the angry words that threatened to spill out. Survival meant knowing when to stay quiet.

Lloyd gestured toward Cole. "Cole, go to Veronica and get fixed up. Those cuts might be shallow, but we don't want any gas from chempools leaking into your wounds." 

Cole nodded almost imperceptibly before heading toward what I assumed was the medical area. 

"As for food," Lloyd continued, his eyes sweeping the room until they landed on a woman with short blonde hair who was leaning precariously on the two hind legs of her chair, a bored expression on her face. "Rey, go to the kitchen and grab some octupi for the kid."

The woman – Rey – let her chair fall forward with a loud clack that made me flinch. She stood up lazily, stretching arms corded with lean muscle. A tattoo of what looked like a rose with a river twisted around it snaked up her left forearm, it seemed to be... glowing? She didn't look happy about the order, but she didn't protest either.

"Go with her, Paul," Lloyd instructed, already turning away and heading back to his sofa.

How many names had this dude memorized? From what I'd been able to count, and the unfamiliar faces I'd seen, there were almost sixty people living here. Was I special, or did he just have a freakishly good memory? Neither option was particularly comforting.

Still, my stomach growled again, reminding me that food was more important than questions right now. I followed behind Rey, trying to keep up with her long strides. She led me down a narrow corridor I hadn't seen before, the walls lined with pipes that occasionally hissed steam. The further we went, the colder it got, until she finally stopped at a heavy metal door. 

She punched a code into a keypad – an actual working keypad, something I'd only heard about – and pushed the door open to reveal what looked like a cooling room. Inside, shelves lined the walls, stocked with food. More food than I'd ever seen in one place. Meats, vegetables, even fruits – rare treasures in the Undercity. My eyes widened, and I had to consciously stop myself from drooling.

Rey grabbed a portion of wiggling octupi from one of the shelves. The purplish-gray tentacles squirmed even in death, preserved by some chemtech process I didn't understand. She closed the heavy door behind us, the electronic lock beeping as it reengaged, and led me to another room – a kitchen of sorts.

She set the octupi down on a table, and when I turned to look, I saw another person I recognized sitting there, already eating. Jay, the kid from my room, was slurping his food and making a bit of a mess, bits of octupi stuck to his chin.

"Sit, eat," Rey said, already turning to leave. "I'm going back to the lounge."

With that, she was gone, leaving me alone with Jay. The moment she disappeared, I practically lunged at the food. My hands dug in without waiting for utensils, and I began stuffing as much as I could into my mouth. The octupi was chewy and slightly spicy, with a salty tang that reminded me of the times mom and I had managed to get our hands on seafood – rare occasions that always felt like celebrations.

And then I began choking.

KOFF! KOFF! KOFF!

Jay, watching me choke, went into panic mode. He jumped up from his seat, knocking it backward with a clatter, and grabbed a cup from somewhere, filling it with water from a tap at the side of the room – another luxury I wasn't used to seeing.

"Drink, dude, drink!" he urged, thrusting the cup into my hands.

I took the glass and drank it all in one gulp, the water helping the octupi slither down my throat. The relief was immediate, though my chest still burned.

"Thanks," I muttered, embarrassed.

"No worries," Jay replied, sitting back down and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Happens to the best of us. I love octupi too but you can't eat it all at once."

We fell into silence once more as we continued eating, though I took smaller bites now. The kitchen was warm, and for the first time since mom died, I felt something close to comfortable. My body was finally getting what it needed, and the fog of hunger that had clouded my thoughts began to lift.

"So," Jay said after a while, breaking the silence, "are you still hurt and tired, or what?"

I considered the question. My muscles still ached, particularly my legs, and there was a deep weariness in my bones that food alone couldn't fix. But compared to how I'd felt yesterday, it was an improvement.

"A bit, but better now, thanks."

Jay nodded, seeming satisfied with my answer. "Well, since you're feeling better, I think we deserve a proper introduction. Name's Jay, I'm 15, and I mostly pickpocket. Been doing it for a while now."

"Paul, 10, and I guess I'm begging right now." The word felt bitter in my mouth, like admitting defeat. In the hierarchy of the Undercity, beggars were near the bottom – only the truly desperate, the broken, and the very young resorted to it.

"Damn, that's a rough one," Jay said, wincing sympathetically. "Long hours and unless you get lucky, you're only making two or three bronze a day, and that's even accounting for location." He took a swig from his cup. 

I honestly didn't want to talk more about begging. The thought of sitting there day after day, holding out a bowl, looking pathetic enough to earn pity coins – it made my skin crawl. So I changed the subject.

"How long have you been in Atreides for?"

Jay's expression shifted, becoming more guarded. "Going on three years now." He poked at his food with a fork someone had apparently thought to give him. "You know the Hope House Orphanage?"

I nodded. It was a pretty well-known place in the Sump and most likely where I would have ended up if I hadn't been picked up by Lloyd. The orphanage had a reputation – not a good one, but not the worst either. At least the kids there got fed most days.

"It got attacked a few years ago by chem-hounds," Jay continued, his voice dropping lower. "Killed a few kids and adults. I ran and ended up here, luckily. Lloyd took me in when I was about your age."

There was something in the way he said "luckily" that made me wonder if it had been luck at all. But I didn't press. Everyone in the Undercity had their stories, and most of them weren't pretty.

"How about you?" Jay asked, clearly eager to shift the focus.

"You know the gray spill that happened two days ago?"

Jay's eyes widened. "You survived that?! I heard the entire east side of the slums was overrun. They're still finding bodies."

"Yeah," I said, the memory of mom's still form flashing through my mind. I pushed it away. "I got snatched though, and here I am."

"Well, you'll see, getting here is one of the best things that could have happened to you," Jay said with certainty that sounded rehearsed. "The Atreides take care of their own. Sure, Lloyd's tough, but he's fair. Better than most of the gang leaders in the Undercity."

We went quiet for a bit more, finishing our plates. The octupi was gone, leaving only smears of sauce. My stomach felt full – actually full – for the first time in what felt like forever.

"So, pickpocketing?" I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.

Jay's face lit up, seemingly pleased by my interest. "Yeah, it's easy money if you know what you're doing. More than begging, less risky than mugging."

"How do you do it?"

If I could earn more money, why wouldn't I? The thought of getting away from begging was appealing, even if it meant risking my fingers. I really didn't like begging, if you couldn't tell.

Jay leaned in closer, lowering his voice even though we were alone. "It's all about the distraction. You bump into someone, not too hard or they'll shank you, while in the bump you can grab something if you're fast enough then keep moving." He demonstrated with surprising speed, his fingers dancing through the air. "Or you create a scene – someone drops something, people look, and that's when you strike."

"I could teach you if you want," he offered, as he licked his fingers clean.

"I'd appreciate it, thanks." 

"No worries," Jay said, clapping me on the shoulder. "You're part of the Atreides gang now. We stick together." There was genuine warmth in his voice, he really seemed like a nice guy.

As we came out of the kitchen, Lloyd was waiting there, leaning against the wall. I hadn't heard him approach. He held two bronze coins in his hand, rolling them between his fingers with practiced ease.

"Here you go," he said, flipping them to me one after another. I caught them clumsily, nearly dropping the second one. "This is your part of the haul. Don't go wasting it all in one place."

Two out of seven. According to our agreement I was only to keep 20%, 20% of seven is... 1.4. Meaning he had given me more than what he had said I would be given, not a lot more mind you but still more.

"Now off to bed, both of you," Lloyd continued, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Jay, you're going with Rey tomorrow. Got a job for you." His eyes shifted to me. "As for you, Cole will continue to accompany you for the foreseeable future. Can't have my new little earner getting stabbed in an alley, can I?"

I nodded along, clutching the coins tightly in my fist. They weren't much, but they were mine – the first money I'd ever earned. Or most of it, anyway.

As Jay and I began walking to our room, he nudged me with his elbow. "You're getting tons of attention from Lloyd. I was here for almost a year before he learned my name. Lucky."

Was it lucky? I didn't feel lucky. Something about the way Lloyd watched me made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. But I said nothing, merely shrugging as we continued down the corridor.

We made it to our room, passing a few other kids who were either already asleep or pretending to be. Jay climbed into his bunk across the room, while I crawled into mine, the thin mattress creaking beneath my weight. It wasn't comfortable – nothing like the bed I'd shared with mom – but it was better than the cold street.

As I closed my eyes, I realized that for the first time in what felt like forever, I was going to fall asleep without my mom's lullaby. The thought brought a lump to my throat, I tried to cry but realize I had run out.

Instead, I clutched the two bronze coins in my hand until they left imprints in my palm, focusing on their weight, this was mine, and no one was gonna take it away from me.

And as sleep finally claimed me, I dreamed not of blue eyes or burning cities, in fact I didn't dream of anything in weeks, and for that I was beyond thankful.