Chapter Eight – River Heights

Chapter Eight – River Heights

“Charity has proven to be nothing but a mistake. You give and give, and while it might help some, most of those you pull out of the pits of poverty merely drop back in as soon as you stop helping them.

No, if a person in need of charity doesn’t want to need it, then all they need to do is work harder.”

–Hope Rutherford, Professional Philanthropist, 2026

***

“Hey, you,” I said while gesturing to Miss Baker. She jumped, probably not expecting me to call her out. She was with a small group of well-dressed folk, mostly they looked like more corporate stooges, the type of failed human whose entire identity is tied to a single company.

“Miss Stray Cat,” she said with a nod. “Can I help you? We were about to return to River Heights with the good news.”

“Really? That’s perfect. I’m bumming a ride,” I said.

She blinked, then turned to her groupies and pointed one out. “Jacob, stay here, please. Check on our offices and maybe press Mister Daniels to get the accounting done fast. If he complains, refer him to me.”

The man nodded, then picked up a briefcase and walked off.

“There, now there’s plenty of space for you,” she said with a saccharin smile. “Are you going to stay at River Heights for long?”

“Not planning on it,” I said. “Just want to check the defences there, get an idea of what needs to be shored up and where. How do you travel to and from River Heights to here?”

“We fly over,” she explained. “The roads between Downtown and the better part of the city are patrolled lightly, especially as we have convoys that travel back and forth, but the area is still relatively dangerous.”

I nodded along. “How’s the state of the wider city?”

“The wider city?” she asked. “You mean the sections we’ve had to abandon?”

“Yeah. Sounds to me like this divide between Downtown and River Heights would be a lot easier to handle if the defences circled the entire city, not just two sections of it. We’re going to need to take the rest of it back anyway.”

Miss Baker nodded, enthused by the idea. “Quite a few members of the River Heights council believe the same thing. Though I’ll admit it’s a somewhat divisive issue. Some would rather wait for assistance to arrive to clear out the city, but others do wish we could scour the antithesis away. When the global incursion began, there was a vote on whether or not River Height’s defences would be used to protect the wider city, but in the end we chose to protect what’s most important first.”

My flesh eye twitched a bit. “Yeah, I totally understand,” I said.

I don’t think she caught on to the sarcasm, which was probably for the best.

She led me, and consequently her gaggle of aides, out of the mall and into the parking lot just above it. The room was nearly empty, which was a bit off-putting. I hadn’t seen many empty parking lots in my time.

Baker and friends had a trio of cars waiting for them. Two larger, armoured trucks with some of those militia-PMCs hanging around them, and a car that looked like it cost more than most people made in a lifetime. It was one of those fat, sleek Bently-like cars, with all of the bells and whistles a rich dipshit needed on their car, like bulletproof-glass and anti-riot measures. The kind of stuff they needed to stop angry folk from just blowing them up.

“Did you want to ride with me?” she asked.

I shrugged. “Sure,” I said. Then I ignored her spiel about the car’s seats being made of real leather sewn together by peruvian orphans or whatever.

It wasn’t nearly as comfortable as Gomorrah’s ride. Then again, this car wasn’t made for someone wearing even basic body armour. If I was wearing my bigger power armour I’d have to horrify Miss Baker by riding on the roof.

We took off, the bigger hovercars flanking the nicer one. They had proper gun emplacements on the bottoms and tops, probably to dissuade chasers and such, but I imagined they worked well enough on antithesis.

“Slow down on the edge of Downtown,” I said.