The man did not wait to teach the children to protect themselves. After finding some food for the night, it became a routine for the man to order the three to their feet. He was never harsh in teaching them self-defence, but he was firm enough to make the message sink into their heads. Within nights, the children learnt to effectively punch, kick and to escape from an enemy's grasp. The training routine had taken place every evening for a year or so.
According to the parents, the brother had just turned twelve when they had reached the fringe of Mexico. They made no happy celebration of it but instead acknowledged that "he was a big boy now." The boy was barely ten at this stage and the sister was obviously eight. Childish ideas still swept in and out of her head at times, but she matured quicker than ever.
The air improved slightly as nobody could taste the salt on their lips anymore. The ash was still there, but it was good to see the snow lightening for once. Trees could still be heard cracking and collapsing from a distance, but they were becoming scarce. As they spent the afternoon trudging along the road, the family barely noticed that it had been a while since anyone had seen a house, let alone a shed or anything similar.
Something jerked all heads up. Nobody dared to move one bit. The creepy silence chilled the air and chilled all spines. The woman quickly turned to her back and held back a gasp. Before anyone else could look, she let out a fierce whisper of, 'Run!'
The family broke into a run without any questions or words. The boy was panting for breath and was more than tempted to take one peek behind him. As he began to turn his head, the woman immediately shouted, 'Don't turn!'
The sound of them trampling on the hard ground preoccupied their ears for ten seconds or so. The icy wind whooshed past them and froze faces and flesh. However it wasn't long until the children could hear other sounds as well. They hadn't even begun to tire when the sounds of shouts and rushing footsteps edged closer and closer, louder and louder. The brother finally consented to break the rule of not looking at their backs.
Five strong-looking men were catching up. All were bearded yet didn't seem to be any older than their mid-thirties. As soon as the brother turned back around, a warehouse was sighted just to the left of the road. Nothing needed to be said; they were heading towards the warehouse.
As they drew in closer, the man ran faster with his hands outstretched, ready to open the door for the family. Grabbing the door handle with both hands, he slid it open and pulled his son in, then the boy and then his wife. Before he could pull his daughter in, the blonde man appeared and pulled back on her hood.
The family watched in horror as the sister tried to scream through gloved hands. The men surrounded them, all with knives or revolvers drawn. They gestured for the family to get into the warehouse and upon doing so, the men followed them in. The sister struggled to free herself from the blonde man's grip but to no avail. With his other hand, he aimed a revolver towards the family.
'We'll be having a feast tonight,' he hissed and gained laughter as a response from the other men. 'Perhaps we'll save this girl for later, eh?'
While the men chuckled, the boy didn't think; he pulled out his pistol and aimed at the blonde man. The man and the woman let out a 'no!', only to be restrained by revolvers being pointed at their necks. The boy cocked his pistol, ready to shoot the tall bastard.
A menacing grin shaped the side of the man's lip. 'Go ahead, shoot me!' he mocked in an insane tone. 'But what if you miss and hit your sister here?'
The boy was about to say, 'She's not my sister,' but then decided against that. Instead, he glared at the man and aimed higher. 'I won't miss,' he said.
'But what if you do?'
He paused for a bit, then glared even harder. 'At least she would die painlessly then.'
He held his pistol tightly with both hands, ready to shoot. Or at least he believed he was ready. The boy struggled to keep his face strong and his hands still. He trembled in his aim and he started to feel sick like as if for the first time. The man burst out in a throaty cackle.
'You don't have the guts, boy. Just admit that you can't bring yourself to shoot-'
A sudden bang escaped and all was silent. The boy lowered his pistol as his eyes widened to the blonde man who slowly collapsed to the floor. The sister rushed to the woman and wept like hell while all other eyes were on the back of the dead man's head. A hole was seen with blood gradually spilling out of the reddened skull. Then, another bang cracked. Then another. And another. And another.
The rest of the men fell within the dark atmosphere. The family felt a wave of relief, then before they knew it, panic! They frantically turned in all directions to find some kind of answer to their frightening question. If this was not the boy's doing, then whose was it?
'Up here!'
All eyes darted towards the direction of the voice. Over in the far corner was something tall and slightly intimidating. Within the darkness, the family could make out a scissor lift, outstretched to its maximum height. On the platform that was no taller than thirty feet stood a woman. Two beeps were heard and the machine hummed as it began to lower itself. As the man stepped closer to the lowering lift, he could determine that the woman was no older than her late thirties. When the lift came to a stop, she placed her hand on the railing and jumped over onto the ground.
'What were you doing on that?' the man asked.
'I was checking to see if it was still working after all these years,' she replied with a slight accent that the man guessed, Mexican. 'And I was searching this place for food before you arrived.'
'So, are you on your own?'
'No.' She looked over at the dead bodies, still warm and still bleeding. 'Let's get out of here.'
Everyone followed the stranger, their movements echoing on the flat concrete. She appeared out the door first, the light bursting into her eyes. All the others appeared soon after.
The boy had not expected the light to bring out more details of the strange woman. Her long brown hair shone easily in the bleak weather, and her tanned skin brought out the mixture of colours in her eyes. But it was the neat, black leather jacket that caught all the attention.
'All of you aren't cannibals, are you?' she asked, making it sound like a warning.
'No, of course not,' the man assured.
'Good,' she said. 'I had to check. So, where are you headed?'
'South. How about you?'
'Once the supplies run out for me and my daughter, same.'
'Your daughter?'
The stranger glanced out into the distance before looking back at the the family. 'Follow me.'
They all looked at each other weirdly, then nodded. After taking a couple of steps towards an unknown direction, the stranger turned back around.
'I'm Sofia, by the way.'
By the time they had reached their destination, the family could not believe their eyes. The man and his wife had their mouths open in an almost-joyful surprise while the children looked on in curiosity. Sofia turned back to the parents and smiled.
'It's been a while since you've seen one, eh?' she said.
It was a glass greenhouse that hovered palms over mouths. Its presence, the mother thought, was one heck of a miracle. This was sheer luck's doing; preventing anyone or anything from knocking it down. The glass, if not covered in dust, looked as good as new.
Sofia walked over and reached for the frozen, silver door handle. Pulling it open, she then gestured for the family to go in first. The man nodded and entered first, followed by the woman, the children, then herself, locking the door behind her.
The boy slouched a little, bringing his hands up to his mouth and blowing warmth into them. The siblings shook a little, glad that the greenhouse provided a bit more heat than the harsh outdoors. The children then joined the parents in quietly observing their surroundings.
Plants covered all corners and all sides of the glass building. The aisles consisted of rough concrete, but the plants supported themselves in large holes of soil. Greens of nearly all types bunched up in certain areas. Tomato plants, apple trees, citrus trees, cabbage patches, sprouts of carrots, the list went on. Dozens of buckets and nearby watering cans were filled with fresh, clean water.
The man finally spoke. 'How did they all survive?' he said. 'I mean, surely the temperature...the lack of light...'
'My best guess is genetic modification,' Sofia stated. 'You know, back in the day.'
The parents sighed a little, but the sister was met with confusion. 'What's genetic moca...?' she struggled, staring up at Sofia.
'When they put things into the plants to make them stronger,' she replied. 'Like injecting nutrients into them so that they can live longer or so that they don't have to rely too much on water. Or light and heat for this matter...'
The man walked over to his right, stretching his arm out to touch a hanging tomato. The bright redness of the fruit shone in his hand and he couldn't help but run his thumb down the smooth, flawless skin. 'It looks like they did a pretty good job,' he whispered, but loud enough for Sofia to hear.
As the family continued to stop and stare, Sofia sauntered to the back of the building. Behind a few bushes lay a full sleeping bag. She crouched down and shook it a little, slowly awakening the girl inside it. When she opened her eyes fully, she smiled at her mother.
'Morning,' the girl said.
Sofia chuckled. 'Evening, you mean. Took a nap, didn't you?'
Before the girl could nod, she looked behind her mother. The boy had followed and stood there, staring at the girl.
'Who's he?'
'I've found some good guys, sweetie,' she whispered. 'Come up and meet them.'
The girl finally stood out of the warm sleeping bag, the boy seeing that she was only slightly shorter than him. She leaned over to look behind the boy, eventually noticing the family observing fruit. She shyly looked back at the boy who then smiled at her. Without thinking, she sheepishly smiled back.
