Chapter 6: Cornered

Keon's fingertips were numb, the cold permeating through his gloves. His dog wouldn't go to the bathroom, being the diva that he was. It didn't seem like glaring was helping. He dug his hands in his pockets and thought of ways to keep warm. Cooking his dog over a fire was one of them.

Pom glanced up at him with his tongue out, a dumbfounded look on his puffy face.

If Keon didn't know any better, he'd say his mutt was telepathic.

Today was the day for the board elections. It was a gloomy one that was anything but, with the sun's rays shooting down and covering the world in its light. Besides the intense cold enveloping the city, it was bright, like the lull before the storm.

Keon became distracted observing Pom fly around the clutter that filled not only the house but also the backyard. It contained a plethora of colored chairs, a giant round table, and overgrown plants that peeked out from every crack in the ground. Cassius collected junk, and the extensive amount they had in and around their house was hard to miss. It was almost enough for him to forget last week's event that had plagued his waking mind, weighing on his thoughts like a rain cloud. It was heavy and unforgiving.

As much as he wanted to forget, he couldn't. That man with the knife, a clone cowering before him, tortured orbs staring at the perpetrator. It made him sick enough to feel the bile rise from his throat. The breakfast Cassius forced him to eat was about to come up past his lips.

Pom nuzzled his leg then, shaking him out of his downward spiral.

He stared at his hands, examining as they moved, distracting his mind.

"It's too early for this."

After making sure his dog was all set for the day--food, water and toys--he locked the front door and departed towards One Chance.

Keon twirled the key around his finger while turning a corner. The cream-colored concrete below him echoed his heavy footsteps in the quiet of the morning.

As always, a few of their neighbors were out and about, working in the yard or sitting on the porch, studying those who walked by. Large houses stood mere feet next to one another, fenced in yards being the only form of privacy they had.

The annoying old man that always knocked on Cassius's door for sugar waved as Keon passed by his home.

Keon was one of the few clones that lived in the neighborhood. Those who had money usually kept their clones in an apartment in the city. They didn't consider clones' family, after all.

Cassius lived in an upper scale area. His father had been someone influential, and the house they lived in used to be his.

The lack of clones around was uncomfortable, but not unusual. Although one never got used to be scorned daily, its effect withered over time until it became normal.

It was a busy morning compared to usual. The election had everyone up and about early.

Keon wasn't sure how politics worked in the time before disease killed off half of the population, before the creation of clones. But now, every city had what they called Board Officials for Clone and Human Rights. It wasn't as if the rights part was ever for the clones. And yet, every five years, they made a big deal about who got elected, as if it would change the way they treated clones.

It wouldn't, and of that, he was positive.

So, today was like any other day.

At least, that is what he liked to believe. But he should have known better.

After walking a while longer, One Chance finally came into sight. The familiar neon lights flooded his vision and Keon's shoulders relaxed. His body had tensed the entire way to work.

Before he realized it, morning had come and gone. The bar stayed open all day, and while it didn't get as many customers during the day as at night, its side business was just as busy. People came in through the door in the alley, heading upstairs to Lucky's office for other kinds of business. Keon wasn't part of that world, so he did his best to stay ignorant.

At the moment, they had a big client, so he stepped outside to smoke.

Keon hoped Cassius had healthy lungs, because he wasn't sure his were going to be any good by the time his life was over.

With that grim reminder, he remembered his unavoidable physical was coming up soon. It was troublesome, and they were becoming more frequent. As soon as he hit his twenty-sixth birthday in a few months, the hospital may as well become his second home. As the doctor had told him, his body was already breaking down. He didn't linger on that thought for long.

The alley was still damp from yesterday's rain. The lingering smell of trash wafted around him. While it was anything but pleasant, it was home.

He blew out a puff of smoke as the door opened next to him. It vibrated as it slammed against the wall. He didn't give it any attention until something familiar caught his eye.

Keon's cigarette fell to the ground, discarded.

The man before him was grinning ear to ear.

"Keon, my buddy, my pal. I was hoping I would run into you here."

Dark hair and a rugged face full of bruises found itself in proximity of Keon's own.

He pushed the person away, annoyed.

"Firo. What the hell are you doing here? This isn't your turf."