Story #25
King of Cups
He stood at the bow of the skiff, a smooth-bottomed ship designed to glide across the desert, particles of sand ripping at bits of exposed skin. Heavy, tinted goggles covered his one good eye and the one he’d lost sight in during the Fall Out. He coughed, and subconsciously tightened the strap on his ventilator, though he knew that nothing would improve his ability to breathe. It wasn’t just the dust storm. That damage had been done long ago. A few more minutes, and they could raise anchor and follow the girl. He could feel the shift in the storm. There was a small part of him that was ashamed of the hunter he’d become, but that small part consistently lost out to the part of him that was wired for survival.
She was just a teenager. He tried to remember what he’d been like at that age, and a wave of pain and guilt gripped his heart. He’d been so naive. So sure of his understanding of the world. That boy was no more real to him now than a character in a fairy tale. After his dad had left, he’d turned to hacking as a way to maintain some semblance of control in his life. He wasn’t a pimply high school kid without a social calendar once he entered the online world. He was good. Too good. He’d gotten noticed.
It had begun with changing some Chemistry grades, outsmarting the teacher who bragged about the number of students he failed. He moved on to breaking into the football captain’s social media to vindicate yet another girl who’d fallen victim to his sexual harassment. Then, there was a bank error in his mother’s favor, just before Christmas, when she had given up hope of keeping the heat on. After that, it had snowballed. One challenge led to another. He was shocked the day he’d come home from school to find Naval officers sipping tea with his mom in the living room.
