THE PRICE OF MERCY

The canal led out of the commercial perimeter and into the desolate expanse of the Old Yards—a sprawling graveyard of decommissioned shipping containers, abandoned railcars, and dry drainage pipes left behind after the aquifers went dry a decade ago. Jonas drove with absolute familiarity, navigating the labyrinth of rusted iron until he pulled the truck directly inside a hollowed-out warehouse whose corrugated roof was half-eaten by rust.

Inside, the air was still hot, but the heavy shadows offered concealment. Jonas killed the headlights and the engine. The silence that followed was suffocating, broken only by the rhythmic clicking of the cooling radiator and Arthur’s ragged breathing.

""We have shelter here for twenty-four hours,"" Jonas said, unclipping his seatbelt. ""The sheet metal blocks the overhead satellite thermals. But your grandfather needs intravenous saline and dextrose. The heat stroke brought on severe dehydration, and his kidneys won't hold out through the night without treatment.""

Maya climbed into the back seat, kneeling beside Arthur. His skin felt like dry parchment, hot to the touch, and his pulse fluttered under her fingertips like a trapped moth. ""Where do we get medicine? We don't have credits. I have thirteen cents in my pocket.""

""Credits are useless for people who don't legally exist,"" Jonas said, pulling a portable medical scanner from his bag and running it over Arthur’s chest. The device beeped twice with a low, mournful tone. ""The clinics require retinal authorization. If I scan his eyes at an official depot, the doors lock and the drones drop down within thirty seconds.""

""There has to be another way,"" Maya pleaded, hot tears finally spilling over her cheeks, cutting clean paths through the dust on her face. ""He took care of me when my mom died. He didn't eat dinner for three weeks so I could buy new shoes for school. You can't let him die in this dirt!""

Jonas looked at her, his expression hard, unreadable behind his beard and weathered skin. ""There is an underground exchange in Sector 4. The Gray Market. They trade in unmetered medicine and black-market desalination filters. But they don't take cash, and they don't take promises.""

""What do they take?"" Maya asked.

""Information,"" Jonas said, turning his tablet toward her once more. The screen showed Derrick’s store, specifically the administrative link that Jonas had pulled during the confrontation. ""Derrick isn't just a store clerk. He’s the nephew of Marcus Vance, the regional water commissioner. That store wasn't charging sixty dollars because of scarcity. It’s an artificial price hike to force residents out of the district so Vance can sell the land to private server farms.""