Another small taste of Harper's life on earth. I am building up to something. The next chapter will come soon, I promise. This is only the beggining.

Ch. 2

9 yrs. Old

The children moved like rats, scurrying from shadow to garbage pile to decimated building one by one, gathering together to huddle in corners and do it again. They kept mostly to the old, crumbling structures that had once been Bostonian homes long before the destruction. Now they were nothing more than empty shells to hide in when the Dragans were on patrol and in a sour mood.

The children knew the area as well as they knew themselves, and over time had created paths so deeply ingrained in their memories that they did not even have to think about where they were going. They simply went, and an unconscious part of their minds would guide them.

Also committed to memory were the schedules of the various patrols and gangs that wandered about. It was late afternoon now, and that meant certain areas would be open for the children to play freely. They were moving toward one of these places now, dodging and ducking where they could, then holding perfectly still when a Dragan or patrol ship passed by.

They soon came to the place that would be open to them for a time. They stopped ducking and darting to straighten and walk as though no Dragans were around at all.

" Man that Silver Surfer guy is awesome. Did you read where he was being attacked by that sea monster…?" Seamus began, talking near to a mile a minute. They had just been released from another of the secret tutorials held by Mrs. Carlson. Though not officially illegal, the ubers weren't too keen on their slaves gaining any intellect, and enjoyed stifling any attempts at any trying to do so.

Seamus loved the classes, mostly because it ticked the ubers off so much, and also because he excelled at it.

Brenden rolled his eyes, picking up a piece of scrap from a junk pile and tossing it roughly away.

" Seamus, can it! We don't read as fast as you, we haven't gotten there yet. Stop giving it away!"

" I want to know!" piped Amber, his six-year-old sister. Brenden shot her a withering look.

" You're not even reading it."

Seamus continued to ramble on about the comic book when his friend Mark gave him a rough shove. Seamus went on all the same, just to annoy him, then shoved him back. The two got into a shoving match, laughing loudly.

" You're a big-mouth, Seamus," Mark said good-naturedly. He was a quiet boy, the kind the ubers usually ignored since he didn't attract much attention. He was slightly taller than Seamus, with dark, nearly black hair cut short like the rest of the boys, and a long, sharp face.

" Yeah Seamus," Amber replied, shoving him as well. She tended to take sides rather quickly. Seamus shoved her back, but less rough since she was the only person Seamus knew that was smaller than him, but only because she was younger.

" I prefer articulate," Seamus said proudly.

" What's that mean?" Mark asked.

" It means… uh…"

" It's just a fancy word for big mouth," Brenden replied. Being the tallest of the bunch had automatically made him the leader. Besides Amber and Mark there was also Kyle, Lee, Anna, and Mick who were chattering amongst themselves. They all followed Brenden without question, not simply because of his height, but also because of his more advanced uber-smarts. He knew the Dragans, simply because he liked to know what could be used against them, and also how to avoid them.

They came to a wall and one by one squeezed through a large crack to the other side. Junk of various types was piled everywhere, enough to pick through for years to come. The children's attention, however, was diverted to a large garbage hill crawling with other kids. The group hurried over to join with their fellow kludges, and a game of Take the Hill soon ensued.

It was the Harpers, Laheys, and Brodies against the Johansens, Smits, and Henriksons. Since to them those who attack were always bad, and those who defended always good, they made the holders of the hill High Guard and the attackers Dragans. The defenders would throw harmless bits of garbage at the attackers, and the attackers throw in turn, trying to drive eachother back.

There was among the children a deep-seated hatred for the Nietzcheans, and that hatred began spilling over into their game. Throwing became pushing, and the hill of junk was precarious enough as it was to climb. Seamus and Amber had it the worst. Either they were driven off the hill or never able to reach the top and drive the defenders away. It was frustrating Seamus, humiliating him, and his anger escalated. While being an attacker, he let out a vicious cry and charged up the hill, straight at Nicholas Smits, a boy even taller than Brenden.

It took only one shove for Nicholas to send Seamus toppling and rolling down the hill. When this happened, Brenden cried out for a halt and hurried down the pile to check on his small cousin.

" Seamus, you okay man?"

Seamus lay motionless at the foot of the heap, waiting for the world to stop spinning. He moaned and rolled onto his back to look up at the gray, sooty sky.

" I would like to say that was fun, but I would be lying."

Brenden stood over him, shaking his head. He then reached out his hand, which Seamus took, and helped the smaller boy up. Seamus shook his head clear while Brenden and the other kids looked him over for cuts. Even the smallest cut could be deadly, they all knew. The other team stood off to the side, watching with apparent worry.

" Is he all right?" Nick asked sheepishly. Brenden looked at him scathingly.

" Yeah, but he might not have been. You shouldn't have shoved him like that."

" He was coming after me like a psycho!" Nick snapped. Brenden moved toward Nick in a menacing way, but was stopped when Seamus grabbed his arm.

" Hey, Brenden, come on man. It ain't worth getting cut up over. Besides, he's right. It's my fault."

Dave Johansen, a boy a little older than Brenden and Seamus, folded his arms and glared at the two boys. " That little runt shouldn't even be playing. Neither of those two should," he said, meaning both Seamus and Amber.

This made Seamus' blood boil. It was bad enough when an uber called him a runt, but he sure as hll wasn't going to take it from a fellow human. He leaped at Dave, knocking him to the ground, and would have proceeded with punching him if Brenden and Mark hadn't of pulled him off. Dave's own gang held him back, and the noise of the children was deafening as they barked insults at eachother.

Suddenly, Amber screamed, dropping to the ground. The noise died quickly and everyone turned to her with pale faces.

" What!" Brenden cried, dropping beside his little sister. She was holding her foot, and blood was staining her ragged, hole-covered shoe.

" I think I stepped on something sharp," she said in a voice choked by fear.

Brenden turned, presenting his back to her. " Climb on, I'll take you home so mom can clean it. Don't touch it!"

The other kids helped Amber onto Brenden's back, and he slowly stood, grunting with the effort even her slight weight caused.

" You coming Seamus?" Brenden asked.

Seamus looked around at the many piles of junk. He had come here to collect, not really to play, and there was still time to do that.

" Naw, you go ahead. There's a few things I want to find."

Brenden nodded, and with Mark helping to support Amber hurried off. Once the crisis seemed past, the children split up to dig through the junk as though the previous confrontation had never taken place.

Seamus' sights were fixed mostly on wires and metal bits, which were easier to hide. He stuffed wires into his ragged boots, the pockets of his frayed pants, and even weaved some through the flimsy material of his shirt. Metal pieces he stuck in his belt. Anything larger he gathered in a small crate to hide on his way home and pick up later when he could. Though it was all junk, the Dragans would still dish out ample punishment if any of it were found on a kludge. Seamus had a system though. There were small piles of junk near his home, and also along the paths he took to the safe places. He knew how to hide what he needed, as well as anything he happened to build, all in a way so that the ubers were none the wiser.

Today he seemed to be hitting the jackpot. He was trying to build his mother something that would help to purify water. Uncle Ike, Brenden's dad, was helping him in doing so, since the cleaner the water the cleaner the body or so Ike said.

Seamus went from one pile to the next, finding and gathering all that Ike said they needed. This water purifier thing might just work out after all.

Seamus became lost in his search; his mind so set on finding what he needed that he became oblivious to all else. So he did not here the warning hiss of the other children, or see them flee to the crumbling buildings, the holes leading underground, and the shadows. He was aware of little as he dug through rubble, careful not to cut his hands and risk another infection.

So when the towering shadow spread over him, only then did Seamus know what was going on, and that it was too late. He froze, his hand partially stretched in reach for a plate of steel. Fear swelled in his chest, his heart thrumming painfully, his muscles contracting tightly until he was trembling. Slowly, not wanting to yet unable to stop himself, he turned and looked up.

The uber patrolman stared at Seamus, almost curiously. Then a smile crept slowly over the Nietzchean's square features.

" What have we here?" the uber muttered under his breath. Seamus tried to shrink away from the giant uber, then tried to bolt only to be snatched by the collar and tossed roughly to the ground. Seamus tried to scramble away, only to encounter another patrolman. This one kicked Seamus in the face.

" Stay down, you filthy little kludge!" the man snarled, and kicked Seamus in the chest. Seamus cried out pitifully, rolling into a tight ball. The first uber stalked over to the small boy, nudging him in the spine with the toe of his boot.

" Come on now, little kludge, get up. We won't hurt you, we promise. We just want all the stuff you took."

Stifled with panic, unable to think clearly, Seamus began removing the wires and metal pieces from his clothes, tossing them at the first ubers feet as though it were an offering. Other Nietzcheans surrounded Seamus, and all he could do was cringe and tremble in fright.

" Now that wasn't so bad, was it?" the first uber said, and his smile became a wicked leer.

AAAAAAAAAAA

Eli Harper was combing the garbage outside the crumbling building that served as the family home. He was searching out food, rats or mice if they could be found. Ike had been helping him but then had to go and help his daughter with a cut she had received on her foot. It unnerved Eli that Seamus had not been with Brenden and Amber when they came hurrying in, but Brenden had assured his uncle that Seamus was still with friends.

All the same, the unease did not leave Eli. It had not since Seamus and his cousins and friends had snuck off to play immediately after lessons. They were always slipping away after class, and most of the time it was over looked, especially since there was no stopping them. Today, however, Eli was unable to overlook it, especially with Amber getting hurt. Eli promised to ground the kid for a week, never leaving even for lessons, the moment Seamus finally got home.

Seamus did not need lessons anyway. The boy had intelligence; manifested through the odd little mechanical trinkets he created. Ike, being mechanically inclined himself, had taught Seamus everything he knew. Now it seemed Seamus might be reaching the point where he could teach Ike a few things.

Shouting echoed from somewhere nearby. Eli paused in his hunt to look up in time to see a figure come racing out from a nearby ruin, running with everything he had. Eli's first thought was that it was Seamus and that he had been caught carrying off more junk again. But as the figure swiftly neared, Eli realized that it was Mark. The boy was a picture of terror, his face white and his eyes wide.

Eli became apprehensious, but held back his own rising fear. He moved toward Mark to catch the boy before he could run by.

" Whoa! Mark, what's the hurry? Where's Seamus?"

Mark was panting heavily, sweat drenching his clothes. He looked over his shoulder, then all around, his fear turning to panic.

" I-I don't know. I thought he was behind me…"

Eli dropped to his knees abruptly to look Mark straight in the eyes. " Mark, tell me what happened."

Mark gasped for more air. " Patrols… They came early…"

That was all Eli heard, and all he allowed himself to hear, before bolting off. He did not need to know where to go. He knew of the places the children played at, knew those places that were safe during certain times of the day. He broke into a run until he came to the building, ducking and dodging as the children do. He kept a fast pace, even while diving behind piles of junk and debris whenever a patrol was spotted.

Eli's heart pounded madly, and his mouth was dry. He moved from shadow to shadow, scanning every hole, nook, and cranny for signs of his only son. The last time Seamus had been late coming home, Eli had found him crammed into a crack in a wall, waiting out a patrol, but too afraid to move when it had gone. Seamus was probably huddled in another hole somewhere right now. Eli silently prayed that he was.

The place he sought was not far, but the patrolling ubers were making the going long and arduous. Eli was forced to wait until patrols passed, pressing himself against walls or into the ground. It was costing him not only precious minutes but hours as well. The day was late and growing later. Dusk was approaching, the light of day was waning, and soon the curfew would begin. Eli was running out of time.

Then, after what seemed an eternity of moving and hiding, he came to where the children would have been playing. There were no visible patrols as far as Eli could see, but that did not mean they weren't there. He made his way slowly around the piles of metal, wire, and other such garbage that Seamus thought such a treasure. He was about to dart to another pile when he spotted an uber walking casually by with weapon in hand. Eli ducked back around the pile he had been crouched by, pressing his back into it as far as he could. He waited several heartbeats before peering around again. The uber had gone, so Eli made a break.

Eli crawled around the base of the next pile, and peered around. When he did, the breath caught in his throat.

A small body lay sprawled just within arm's reach, covered with blood and unmoving. Eli's heart beat so fiercely that he could not breathe properly. He moved toward the body, numbed all over, seeming to float on terror. Seamus' face was caked with blood that poured from his nose and various cuts on his face. Blood stained his clothes, and his arm was bent at an impossible angle.

Bile rose burning into Eli's throat. He swallowed it back, and reached out a trembling hand toward his son. He felt Seamus' wrist for a pulse, and to his utter, weakening relief found it. He then moved closer to his son and gently lifted the boy to gather him in his arms.

Seamus stiffened, gasping with his eyes flying open. He tried to push free of Eli's hold, but his attempts were feeble.

" Seamus," Eli whispered with a sob, tears dripping from his eyes. " Seamus, calm down, you'll be all right."

Eli lifted his son's head so that Seamus could see his father's face. The eyelids fluttered, and the thin body relaxed.

" Sorry dad," Seamus said in a weak, hoarse voice. " Wasn't paying attention." The boy then sucked in a sharp breath, wincing in pain. Eli could feel his son's bones even as he held him, and so knew what was broken. More tears burned in Eli's eyes, both of sorrow and of fury. Lifting Seamus up, he hurried back the way he had come, sacrificing caution yet managing, perhaps out of long practice or plain luck, to avoid the patrols. Curfew was coming fast, and soon ubers would be everywhere.

There were more shadows now that helped, and Eli managed to arrive home just as the sirens blared, announcing the curfew hour. Eli slipped inside the shelter where Cassie was waiting at the rusty table, her face wet and glittering with tears. But as soon as she saw the broken body of her son, the tears fell anew.

" No, no, no…" she sobbed. She stood and followed Eli through the door into the next room, and then the room beyond that where they slept. He lay Seamus on the blankets spread about the floor that served as bedding. Seamus let out a whimper of pain, clinging tightly to Eli's sleeve. Saddened, sickened, Eli was forced to remove his son's feeble grip so he could look him over.

" Get Ike and Merissa," Eli told Cassie. His wife had her hands over her mouth, and her body shook with weeping. She nodded then hurried out the door and through another door that joined their shelter with Cassie's brother. Ike and his wife Merissa came quickly. Cassie dropped to her knees by her son's side, taking his hand into hers.

Ike knelt by Eli, while Merissa went to get some water and cloths.

Isaac was a grizzled looking wiry man with iron gray hair and white stubble on a scarred face. He rubbed at his chin, his ice-blue eyes troubled in a way that deepened Eli's own fear.

" Oh Eli, this looks bad," he said, shaking his head with a grimace of pity.

Eli sucked in a sharp breath. " He's just a kid. They didn't need to do this."

Ike snorted out a derisive laugh. " They're ubers. I'm surprised they didn't kill the poor kid. I know it may sound harsh, but you should be thankful Seamus is still alive. We can help him, Eli. It just may take some time."

Ike then looked down at Seamus. The boy's breath was coming quick, and his face was screwed up into a look of terrible agony. Ike then moved his gaze to Seamus' twisted arm. He carefully took the arm, lifting it slightly.

" We'll start here." He looked up at Cassie. " Don't let go of his hand. And be ready."

Merissa returned with a pot of water, some rags, and a bottle of alcohol that Eli had made with his still. She set the items beside Ike, then stepped back, turning her face away.

Eli took hold of Seamus' upper arm, and Ike took hold of the lower. The arm was so thin, like a twig, was Eli's thought, and nausea roiled in his gut.

Ike took a deep breath, his face ashen. " Stay strong," he said. " Both of you."

They then pulled. The bones cracked and grated. Young Seamus Harper screamed.