It wasn't until dawn of the second day without my mother that someone bothered with me. A relief worker of some sort found me amongst the bodies and took me away. He actually thought I was dead from how quiet and still I was. He tried to talk to me as he dragged me along.
"Kid, what's ya name?" I stayed quiet. My mother told me to stay quiet like a mouse and so I did.
"Oi, are ya listening to me ya little bugger?" I stayed quiet. He didn't seem to quite like me.
"My job is that much harder to find ya parents if ya don't speak." My eyes started to tear up at the thought of parents, as I realized mine were gone. I remained quiet.
I think he got tired of me as he dropped me off in some camp. There were lots of other kids my age, and adults rushing around them. I sat quietly, not moving. It was a while before an adult noticed me. They tried to get me to speak, just like the last one. I still stayed quiet. Eventually, they got my name. The adults sent me along to a bus where a group of kids waited.
A small girl my age was crying. "Where are they taking us?" she wailed.
A boy that must have been a year or two older answered her. "Probably to an orphanage. That's where the kids with no parents go, right?"
I stopped paying attention to the conversation after that. If the grown-ups got my name, and still sent me to the orphanage alone, that must have meant I had nobody left. I wondered what happen to my sister. She's probably dead if she couldn't come with me. I knew my dad was dead from before I was born, taken by the military to fight a war I didn't understand. My mother was obviously dead, the image of her corpse still fresh in my mind. It sunk in. I was well and truly alone.
Whatever the adult were waiting on must have been done, because they ushered us onto the bus and began driving. I had ridden on a school bus before for a field trip, and it was much louder than this. My classmates had been loud and excited, looking forward to our trip. The current group of kids was quiet, the tense atmosphere seemed to choke the life out of everyone here. There was no trip to be happy about. Just a lonely orphanage at the end of it, where we traveled to it alone.
I sat quietly, watching the scenery change. The sea that I so very loved had long since passed. We must be going further inland. I began to get confused. Our teacher had told us last week that the omnium was in the center of the country, so why were we going closer to it?
Leaving my musings behind, I paid closer attention to the scenery. We were on a highway in the bushland. We had been traveling for a couple of hours. As we got further along, the scenery began to warp and change. There was a few scattered fires, eating the bush greedily. There seemed to be small pockets of violence left behind. But most importantly, when we were almost at our destination, there was another ruined town. It looked similar to my home left behind.
The bus that had been quiet before, was deadly silent. I looked out to the ruins left behind, and saw that there were other people here. They were rugged and soot-covered, watching us as the bus drove past. Questions flew through my mind. What were we doing here? What are they going to do about us? What is going on? Sure enough, I was answered.
The lone adult on the bus, other than the driver, stood up to get our attention. She was wearing a fancy outfit, and had shiny shoes that told of what little work they have seen. She cleared her throat, brushing back a bit of clean hair. "As I am sure you have realized by now, all of those on this bus has lost their families. With the resources being few as it is, there are not many places to go." She paused, clearing her prim and proper voice. "The Australian government has deemed this town as an acceptable home for you. The people here have decided to take you lot in, albeit reluctantly." She lowered her voice at that, mumbling something about savages and being grateful. "We of course, offered supplies for them in return. Kids, welcome to your new home! Bleakburn!"
The bus was quiet. Nobody moved. I don't know what she expected. Applause? We watched her silently. She stared back. Fidgeting, she cleared her voice and continued. "Well, anyways, I'll need you lot to state your name and age as you reach the front of the bus. We will place you with the family assigned to you!" Nobody moved. We weren't exactly eager for this. I knew all I wanted was my home and the sea I already missed.
"Come on, hurry up! Let's get this over with." She seemed rather eager to be done. Someone finally moved. It was the girl from earlier, who had cried for her mother. She moved quietly, until she was staring up at the woman. "My name is Alice Lakefield. I'm eight," she said hesitantly. It could almost be cute, if it wasn't because she had lost everyone she loved and was about to be sent off. The woman pulled out a clipboard, and searched the paper. She mumbled quietly as she looked. Finding what she was searching for, she called out a name through the open bus door.
My attention was lost after that. I hadn't even realized the door was open, much less the group of people that stared expectantly in. The adults that I had saw earlier were waiting. Probably for the child to be shoved off to them like a baton in a race.
My mind whirred. I wonder what type of family I will join. Will they be like my mother? Hardworking and willing to sacrifice everything for the ones they love? Or will they be rough, like the savages the prim woman had called them. Will I grow up here happy? My musings were cut short by a tap on my shoulder. The woman looked down at me.
"Sweetheart, what's your name?" The prim woman asked. I looked up at her, my once gleaming blue eyes now dark and hollow. She flinched. The look in my eyes must have said something, because she edged away from me unconsciously. Wanting to be done with this, I told her what she was looking for.
"Emily Elizabeth Smith. Age eight," I said tonelessly. My voice was as hollow as the look in my eyes. Hurriedly, she looked down the list. Finding it quickly, she called the name of my new caretaker.
"Markus Schaffer!"
I looked out the door. There was an old man looking back from behind his thick glasses. Tilting my head, I stood in the door confused. Was he to be my guardian? He could be my grandfather, if mine wasn't already dead and buried back home. I looked him over quickly, hoping for more clues. The first thing I noticed was that he was short. Taller than the child I was, but much shorter than the other adults. The second thing I noticed was the coat he was wearing. It was white and clean, albeit a little soot that had come from the leftover fires. 'It was a doctor's coat' my mind supplied. The third and final thing I noticed was the accent.
"Well Liebling, do I meet your standards?" He huffed, sounding amused. I was even more confused. I had never heard someone talk like that before! My face scrunched up at the confusing thoughts flittering through my head. The man chortled again at that, short and soft, gone within the moment. He smiled at me.
"As the frau said, my name is Markus Schaffer. Most people in this town call me doctor Schaffer, though." I smiled at that, happy that I was right. Hopping off the bus steps, I walked forward to his spot next it. 'My mother said to be quiet, but I won't get in trouble for talking to him, right?'
"My name is Emily Elizabeth Smith, but most people just call me Emily," I softly replied to him. He huffed another short laugh at that. "Is that so? Well Liebling, I'm sure we shall get along splendidly!" He offered his hand to me. I was nervous, but I took it. His calloused hand enclosed my tiny pale one. As he led me away, I couldn't help but think.
Maybe this won't be as bad as I thought.
