In a two-caste Los Angeles, grifter Ella Locke falls into the deadly world of corporate espionage when an autocratic megacorporation catches her infiltrating its opulent walled-off city-state
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Curious About 2090 Untamed
I dangled upside-down, arms roped to my sides, my skull six feet above the grimy concrete floor of the Vipers’ drug factory. The blood rushing to my head and the burned plastic fumes had me wheezing and delirious.
Chaos was everywhere. Hundreds of rusty barrels hauled chemicals in lines like ants, towed by screeching AI-powered wheels. A horde of Vipers roamed the factory in black hazmat suits and skull-shaped gas masks. Some dumped buckets of white powder into industrial mixing drums. Their mask’s red eyes and connected dual hoses made them look like grim reapers orchestrating the destruction of humanity.
Sweat drenched my blouse and dripped down my throat and face, so much I had to shut my eyes to avoid perspiration from burning them.
Unlike Dad whose knees got busted by the Vipers, mine were above batting distance. But not my face. My weird photographic memory pushed a vivid replay of the night the Vipers crushed Dad’s knees, his quavering chin and shriek as the bat connected. Him wincing after each step for the past twelve years. His easy laughter dulled by his lost pride as Mom and I took over his workload.
I could never scheme the Vipers into granting me an extension on my debt, certainly not when dazed by the pain of being strung up by my ankles.
Something screeched like a fork on a plate, and I flinched.
Through my blinking, sweat-burned eyes, I caught a blurry silhouette closing in on me: a lanky, green-skinned henchman.
Zee.
Forked tongue flapping, Zee scraped the ground with a barbed baseball bat (the same one that crippled Dad in 2078). His slit eye contact lenses and full-body tattooed snake scales signaled his lieutenant rank. “Mayron isn’t a patient man, Ella.”
Maybe Zee could be fooled into believing I needed more time to sell the pills. It was my first deal after all. I willed an impish grin. “Thanks for the pep talk, but I can sell H faster when I’m not tied up.” The factory’s fumes sandpapered my vocal cords, chain-smoker style.
Zee remained aloof as he snatched a gutting knife from the steel table and stepped closer. At his height, his slit pupils almost reached my upside-down face. “Such a 3D star look—smooth skin … cute nose … blowjob lips. Sucks if something bad messed that up.”
The razor-sharp point traced my cheek as I stilled to avoid swinging on the rope and slashing myself. “Lighten up, man. I’ll have the money next week. No need to turn psycho on me.”
A sneer twisted Zee’s thin lips as the blade brushed across my jugular vein.
“How about you get me down and buy me a drink? You never know”—I bit my bottom lip—“you might get lucky this time.”
The blade punctured the skin at my jaw, and I winced as a drop of blood trickled into my left eye.
Zee walked back and snatched the barbed bat from the ground. He held a batting stance right in front of me. I writhed, and the wire strangling my ankles dug deeper into my skin. Heart thrashing, I braced for impact.
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Ly Ann
The Author and The Psychologist
Ly Ann has a Ph.D. in psychology and works as a clinician to offer children and adults neuropsychological assessments and individual psychotherapy.
You can talk to her on Twitter @lyann888.
Click below to learn more about her journey and see pictures of her.
