I helped her become a ghost.
Soo-hyun crossed the city slowly, piecing together everything they wanted to say to Kali, everything they would tell the others. By the time they reached the canal, the outline of a speech had formed, and they chewed over the words with every step.
Plato met them at the outskirts of Liber, the dog drone crouching in the mud, sunlight reflecting off the solar panels along its spine. It lifted its head when it saw Soo-hyun.
“You’ve been waiting for me?” Soo-hyun said. The dog drone stood and walked to meet them. “What’s been happening?” they asked it, though they knew it couldn’t answer.
Together Soo-hyun and Plato walked deeper into the commune. They stopped when they saw Kali emerge from her building. She pulled a wheeled suitcase behind her, talking loudly into her phone while Andrea stood on the steps behind her, crying.
“Kali?” Soo-hyun called out.
She didn’t turn to face Soo-hyun, she just kept dragging her suitcase over the uneven ground.
“Kali! You don’t get to just leave. You owe us more than that!”
Kali didn’t stop, and Soo-hyun didn’t chase her. They knew Kali would offer no explanation, no apology.
Soo-hyun made their way down to the open courtyard where a dog drone lay beside Red’s body, both bullet-riddled. The air was humid and dank. Flies buzzed over Red’s corpse.
Soo-hyun marched to their workshop, searching for a shovel. The battle chairs sat on one side of the workshop, a reminder of the time Soo-hyun almost hurt JD again. And for what? They weren’t sure anymore.
Soo-hyun dragged the cockpits out of the workshop, leaving the parts for the kids and teens of Liber to pilfer for their makeshift gaming rigs.
No shovel.
Soo-hyun cursed under their breath. They walked toward the greenhouse and passed Andrea sitting on Kali’s stoop with her hands at her face, tears pouring down her cheeks.
Soo-hyun stopped and turned around. “Andrea, go to the greenhouse and get me a shovel.”
“Get it yourself.”
“Go get me a shovel. Now.”
Andrea stood and stormed off, muttering under her breath. Soo-hyun felt bad for barking at the girl, but they knew authority was the only approach she would respond to.
Soo-hyun walked back to Red. His white skin was too pale beneath the sun, eyes open and empty. Soo-hyun didn’t bother trying to close them—they knew that was another thing movies lied about. Instead they shooed away the flies, grabbed both his arms, and began to drag him out of the courtyard, toward the old soccer field and the young orchard that grew there.
Some of Kali’s most devout walked past Soo-hyun, trailing after their prophet. They carried their phones with them—Kali’s voice streaming from the speakers, distorted by volume—along with whatever they could fit in tattered old school backpacks and reusable shopping bags.
Some flicked curious glances at Soo-hyun, but none of them stopped to help.
When Soo-hyun reached the shade of the largest apple tree, they were drenched in sweat. They took off their one-sleeved olive shirt and fanned themselves with their soaked tee. Andrea approached, squinting in the sunlight, a shovel laid across both her skinny arms.
“Here,” she said. She dropped the shovel with a metallic clang, and turned to leave.
“Andrea.”
“What?” the girl said, her tongue sharp with venom.
“Stay and keep me company.”
“Why?”
“Because I asked.”
Andrea crossed her arms over her chest, but she sat in the tree’s shadow and watched. She wiped her nose with her hand, her eyes red and raw.
Soo-hyun put the shovel against the ground and stood on the step, shifting their weight to dig into the soft, rain-soaked earth.
“Why are you crying?” Soo-hyun asked as she continued to dig.
Andrea inhaled sharply and began to sob. “She told me not to follow her. I’ve got no one else, I’ve got nowhere to go.” The words came out in ragged gasps.
“You don’t have to go anywhere,” Soo-hyun said. “Stay here.”
“But Kali …”
“Even without her, it’s still home,” Soo-hyun said.
Andrea continued to cry. Eventually the girl sniffled and said: “Do you think we’ll be okay without her?”
Soo-hyun smiled. “I think we’ll be just fine.”
As they dug, the tattoo itched against Soo-hyun’s skin, that perfect black circle. They would carry it with them for the rest of their days.
JD limped out of the warehouse with a hand shielding his eyes, only to realize it was night. Days of sweat caked his shirt, and his face itched with coarse, scratchy hair. He had slept only in stolen moments, no matter how many times I assured him I could do the work on my own.
The night air was cool, so JD walked. I followed him in a light quadcopter. We traveled to Gaynor’s apartment, where Troy had been sleeping on the couch between volunteer shifts at the university, and Soo-hyun had visited for a hot shower.
“I can’t stay for dinner,” Soo-hyun said when JD and I arrived.
“They’re staying for dinner,” Gaynor called out from the kitchen.
“You heard her,” JD said with a smile. He hugged Soo-hyun.
“You really stink, hyung.”
“Like you can talk,” JD teased.
“I’m clean, it’s just my clothes that stink.”
Troy waited patiently for his turn, and after he kissed JD, he had a dozen new questions for me. Gaynor didn’t know why Troy was talking to a drone, but she didn’t care. She was just glad her home was full, and her son was happy.
They all sat at the dinner table, around a steaming pot of Gaynor’s famous fried rice. JD put his hand in Troy’s, and after Gaynor said grace, JD leaned close to Troy and said, “I love you.”
Troy kissed his hand. Gaynor watched, smiling to herself. Soo-hyun rolled their eyes, and heaped a massive serving of fried rice onto their plate.
The apartment was filled with warmth. With love.
It was home. And for the first time, I truly understood what that meant.
EPILOGUE
And that is my story. By extension, it is the story of us all.
JD, the one
