The System Can’t See Me

Kai's hip came down harder on Nia's thigh.

The movement was small enough that nobody outside the crawlspace would have heard it. Nia did. Her breath snapped short. The leg beneath him shook once, twice, then held with a hard knot of muscle that Kai could feel through his wet jeans.

Her front hand slid off the side seam.

She caught it again with two fingers.

"Don't," Kai said.

"I'm not doing this on purpose."

Her voice came tight through her teeth. Her back hand was still caught near his spine, squeezed between the wall and the weight of his body. He could not see it, but he could feel the pressure change each time she tried to pull it free. The hand gave a little. His waist turned with it.

He stopped breathing for a second.

Nia noticed. "Breathe."

Kai let the air out slowly because there was nothing else he could give her. The shoulder under the lunch box flared. His right wrist stayed trapped beneath his ribs, palm pressed into grit and cold concrete. He could barely feel his fingers anymore. When he tried to flex them, pain came first, then a faint twitch he could not use.

The good knee was folded in front of Nia's hip. The bad ankle lay ahead, swollen inside the torn cuff of his jeans. None of it could take weight. None of it could turn him back toward the wall.

Nia's left thigh bucked beneath him.

Kai's hip moved another inch.

Her front hand dragged across his side and caught at the waistband. The denim stretched. The sound of it was soft, almost lost under the runoff.

"Nia."

"I know."

She sounded like she was trying to keep the word from becoming a noise.

At the mouth of the crawlspace, something shifted behind the red pipe.

Kai saw only a plate move against the dark and then stop. He did not know whether it had been there the whole time. He did not look long enough to decide. Nia's leg moved under him again, and the floor took all of his attention.

"Can you get your back hand out?" he asked.

"Maybe."

"Don't pull it."

Nia gave a short breath that might have been a laugh. "You think I want to leave it there?"

He had no answer for that. His cheek was against the wall. The concrete felt wet near his mouth, though he could not tell whether it was runoff, sweat, or the water that had already soaked through their clothes.

Her right calf trembled against the wall. The score higher on it had bled through the torn denim. Blood ran toward the shallow runoff at her ankle and disappeared into it. Her bare left foot remained planted in the blue water. The left leg that carried him had started to shake without stopping.

Nia did not tell him it was failing. She did not need to.

Kai tried to lower himself by relaxing his hip.

His body slid down the angle of her thigh. The lunch box pressed harder into his left shoulder. His trapped wrist ground into the floor. Nia's front hand missed the waistband and landed between his hip and the concrete.

She swore.

Kai went still.

"Your hand," he said.

"I know where my hand is."

She did not pull it out. If she did, he would slide. If she kept it there, the next shift would crush it harder.

Nia's eyes closed for one breath. When she opened them, she looked at the wall beside Kai's head instead of at the mouth.

"Listen," she said.

He waited.

"My leg is going to give."

Kai felt the tremor under his hip and believed her.

"When it does, don't try to catch yourself."

Kai looked at the wrist under his ribs and the left arm pinned beside him. He nodded once.

"I'm serious," Nia said.

"I know."

Her thigh shook again.

Kai looked down as far as he could. Her front hand was hidden under the edge of his hip. Only the heel of her palm showed. It was pressed flat against the concrete, fingers trapped somewhere under him. Her back hand had loosened at his spine. The cloth there was still wet and twisted.

"Tell me before you move," he said.

"I will."

Her voice was steady now. That frightened him more than when it had gone thin.

The black plates beyond the pipe shifted again.

This time a hook scraped concrete somewhere out of sight. The sound reached them and stopped. Kai did not turn his head. Nia did not look.

"Now," she said.

Her left thigh gave.

Kai did not fall cleanly. His hip slid off the top of her leg, caught for a moment against the side of her knee, then dropped to the floor. The impact ran through his right side and drove his trapped wrist under him. White light burst behind his eyes.

His good knee scraped across the concrete. The torn denim at it bunched and stuck. His bad ankle dragged after him, useless and heavy, until the cuff touched the edge of the runoff.

Nia tore her front hand free at the same time.

Her fingers came out red at the tips, and a scrape crossed the heel of her palm. She curled the hand before he could see how badly it shook. Her left thigh slid out from beneath him, but her bare foot stayed in the blue water. The motion pulled her left ankle scrape across the concrete. She sucked in a breath and braced her shoulder against the wall.

Kai lay lower than before, his hip against the floor instead of Nia's leg. His chest still faced the wall. The weight had not come off his wrist. It had settled onto it. His right hand had gone cold all the way to the elbow.

Nia's back hand slipped free from behind him.

For a second, neither of her hands held his waist.

Kai began to roll.

Nia pressed the heel of her scraped palm against the outside of his hip. His turn slowed, then continued. Her other hand closed on the bunched denim near his side.

Her fingers left a wet red mark on the cloth.

Kai felt the hold slide before he could answer. His body made another small turn as the wet fabric stretched under her hand.

The lunch box gave a faint plastic crack above his shoulder.

Nia froze.

Kai waited for the weight to shift. It stayed where it was, hard against his shoulder, forcing his left arm uselessly against his side.

Neither of them spoke.

The runoff reached the torn cuff around Kai's bad ankle.

Cold soaked through the denim and settled around the swollen joint. Kai kept his eyes on Nia's hand at his hip.

Her right calf slid down the wall by a fraction. Fresh blood marked the concrete above the waterline. Nia's shoulders were shaking now, though she held her arms still.

"Can you feel your fingers?" Kai asked.

"Enough."

"That doesn't mean anything."

"It means I can still hold cloth."

The front grip shifted at the word hold. Nia caught it again, closer to the torn shirt at his ribs. Her scraped palm did not have much strength left. Kai could see that in the small tremor running from her thumb to her wrist.

Kai stared at the wall a few inches from his face. The paint had peeled away in curled strips. A dark line of water crept along the seam where floor met wall. His hip was lower now. Nia no longer had his weight on her thigh, but her hand was bleeding, her left foot was still in the runoff, and her right calf had no stable pressure against the wall.

Nia lifted the hand at his side a fraction, then set it down again. Her fingertips had found the same wet seam, but they could not close around it the way they had before. The scraped palm at his hip was worse. It could press, but every time she put weight through it, her fingers shook open.

Kai watched her try to trade the positions. The hand at his side loosened. The palm moved toward the denim. His hip turned at once, dragging the bad ankle farther into the runoff.

Nia put the scraped palm back against his hip before the other hand could finish the move.

Her breath hitched.

"Leave them," Kai said.

"They're not holding."

"They're holding enough to hurt you."

Nia looked down at her palm. Blood had gathered in the creases and mixed with the dirt there. She wiped none of it away. There was nowhere clean to wipe it.

"Then I keep them where they are," she said.

She left both hands where they were.

Nia adjusted her grip at his hip.

The jeans slipped under her fingers.

She followed the slip as far as she could. The hand at Kai's side tracked the wet seam downward. The scraped palm stayed flat against his hip. It was not enough pressure to keep him still. It only slowed his turn.

Kai felt the movement reach his ribs before it reached his waist. The lunch box dug into the damaged shoulder. His pinned wrist took another grind against the floor. He bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood, then let it go because the taste made him want to swallow, and swallowing hurt.

Nia's fingers paused at the seam.

"What?" he asked.

"The side seam's going."

She tried to close her hand again. Two fingers obeyed. The third curled only halfway, then shook open. Her palm slipped against his hip. The side of his jeans dragged over the concrete, pulling him farther from the wall by another small amount.

Nia leaned forward to follow him. Her right calf lost the wall for a moment. Blood streaked down the torn denim. She caught herself with her shoulder, but the movement pulled her left foot through the runoff. The scrape at her ankle left a red smear on the wet floor.

Kai heard her breath catch and knew she had no room left to spare.

"Don't chase me," he said.

"Then stop sliding."

He almost said sorry again. Instead, he pressed his cheek harder against the wall and gave her the only stillness he had.

The side seam beneath Nia's fingers tightened.

She felt the stitch give before Kai heard the faint rip.

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