Poor Harper. Seems he can't do anything right. I would like to thank those who read and reviewed. Hugs to you all! If I could give you gift baskets I would.
Ch. 3
16 Yrs. Old
Seamus crouched in the darkness of the alley, soaked through his clothes to the skin in putrid rain. He trembled, not so much from cold, but with an unquenchable rage. He was waiting with a patience that was wearing thin like a leash trying to hold back a starving Magog.
It was the Magogs' fault he was out in the rain, hiding in the darkness, waiting like a predator. Their recent attack had caused a food shortage in the camps, with the Nietzcheans taking everything to use in holding back the swarms. Seamus was surprised at himself that he had even left the hovel, but hunger, and necessity, had forced him to do it. Besides, the Magog monsters had yet to return for five days.
The few lights cast a weak glow on the slick, filthy streets cluttered with garbage, debris, and who knew what else. Seamus watched those streets with and interest as hungry as he was. They were empty thanks to the rain and fear of another attack, so for once Seamus had an advantage.
Then he heard it, the rhythmic splash that could only be caused by hurrying footsteps. Seamus tensed every muscle his scrawny body possessed, crouching lower into the shadows and gripping the iron pipe tighter in his fist.
The man walked quickly by the alley; drenched in his own shadows created by the wan lights of the street. Seamus took that moment to emerge, hurrying out, nearly slipping, and scrabbled after the man.
" Hey Marlow!" Seamus shouted, and just as the man was about to turn Seamus raised the pipe to bring it down on the man's head in one hard blow. The man crumpled to the wet street with blood dripping from his scalp. Seamus tossed the pipe away then began rummaging through the man's neat attire, grinning all the while at his own cunning. Marlow was probably more predictable than a mad uber. He always took the same routes where ever he went.
Marlow had been well fed, Seamus could tell. There were no bones to be felt clearly. It confirmed Seamus' suspicions that this was indeed the man who had betrayed one of the Brodie clan to the ubers. Mark's aunt and uncle had been hiding their children from the slavers, but Marlow, a food vendor, had discovered this and ratted them out. Or at least that had been the suspicion. After all, no one but the traitors ever wore fine clothes and looked well fed.
Thus had Marlow become a target, and Seamus was getting his share of him. Not only that, Seamus had witnessed the man receiving more food from an uber solider as payment for future 'use'. He searched the traitor's clothes thoroughly until he finally came upon a chunk of something wrapped in a cloth, hidden in the man's coat. Seamus pulled back the cloth and his mouth salivated at the sight of strong smelling cheese.
Seamus bit into the cheese, devouring as much as he could with uncontrolled ferocity, then forcing himself to stop before he ate the whole thing. Others deserved a share of this food. Other deserved compensation. So Seamus wrapped the cheese back up and hid it in the hole-less pocket of his pants. He then stood, hunching his shoulders against the rain to hurry away from Marlow before (or if) he ever awoke. Let the ubers have him, he deserved it.
Seamus hurried through various streets, junk piles, fence-holes, and decayed buildings toward the uber hangar. Lights spilled warm and golden from the massive doors of the huge building. Seamus slowed as he approached the security gate where two massive Dragans stood guard. The skinny boy tried straightening as tall as he could go, but cringing was involuntary when one was around an armed uber, let alone two. Seamus approached the two slowly; reaching into the pocket of his ragged jacket for the crumpled pass his uncle had given him.
Seamus held the pass out in a trembling hand to the guards as the rain beat viciously at his back. The heavy clouds had turned day into night, and the lights from the lamps above the ubers made their features sharp and menacing. The dark-haired guard snatched the pass from Seamus, looking it over once, then tossing it back so that Seamus was forced to pick it up. He tensed when he did so, but received no blow to the face or kick to the ribs as most ubers do when they drop something for a kludge to pick up.
Seamus did not even look at the guards as he hurried by. He let out a long, slow breath of relief, then took off at a run for the hangar.
Inside were lines of air-patrol ships as far as Seamus could see. The room reverberated with the sounds of repairs and the shouts of voices. Sparks flew from various ships in the process of being welded, and tools clattered constantly. Seamus grinned despite the presence of so many ubers. He loved, more than anything, helping his uncle make repairs. He felt he learned more in the hangar than he ever could at the secret classes.
Seamus shook the water from his mussed hair, only to be shoved violently to the floor when some of it landed on a passing Dragan.
" Watch it, dog!" the uber growled. Seamus shrank back, expecting to be kicked.
" S-sorry," he stuttered, but the uber had already continued on his way. Seamus scowled darkly. " Sorry it wasn't sludge that stained your precious uniform you oversized, stupid-head pretty boy…" he was tempted to pull out his shriller and give it a good blow, but prided himself on not being that stupid.
He picked himself up from the oily floor and hurried over to where Ike, Brenden, and Mark were working. The Dragans may not have liked it when a kludge got an education of any kind, yet neither did they let it go to waste. Ike's skills with mechanics made him valuable, an asset, and by having the boys assist his hope was to make them valuable as well. It did not make life better. It did not put more food on the table or earn better clothes, but it kept a man alive. As Seamus' dad always put it, it's about survival; you do what you can just to keep breathing.
Seamus saw his Uncle Isaac crouching on top of one of the patrol ships. His eyes were hidden behind dark goggles that flashed with the sparks of the weld. Ike looked up to see his nephew, and waved at the boy.
Seamus pulled his own goggles from another of his pockets and placed them around his neck for later. He then pulled out the cheese wrapped in cloth.
" Hey Mark my man!" he called. Mark stepped out from around the ship, and Seamus tossed him the cheese. " A little something from a mutual friend of ours. And by friend I mean, of course, dirty scum-bag."
Mark opened the cloth and his brown eyes rounded over. " Dang! Thanks Seamus." Mark then broke the cheese in thirds, downing his half, setting one aside on a small work bench for Ike, and tossing the other to Brenden who had come over to see Mark's prize. There was no reason to ask if Seamus had had his share.
Seamus snatched up a welder from the bench and made his way to the to the rocket end of the ship. He then snapped his goggles into place and removed the panel covering the wiring he had been working on the other day. The wires were a mesh of chaos, but it was organized chaos in Seamus' eyes. He began picking them apart in search of those that needed to be replaced. Brenden was working on the other side, pulling wires and replacing them with fresher ones.
" Man, what I wouldn't give to fly one of these babies," Harper muttered as he welded a new wire in place of an old one.
" Not so loud, Seamus," Brenden said, glancing around nervously without moving his head. Seamus moved over to the workbench, pretending to look the scattered tools over.
" Can't you see those stupid ubers running when we swoop in on 'em in one of these?"
Brenden smirked. Then pointed to his ears in warning.
" Yeah, yeah, I know, uber super hearing. But seriously, cos. We come at night, blow on a few shillers to keep the guards back, snag one of these and dump it when we're done. Blow a few barracks…"
Brenden, still grinning, shook his head. " Keep dreaming, cos. Let's just stick with what we can actually get. And keep it down," he hissed. " I think they're still pretty ticked about the last raid. There's been talk going around that they're still looking for the ones who did it."
Seamus picked up a wire cutter though he didn't need it. " They've been looking for us since the last five raids."
" Yeah, well I don't know about you, but I'm getting a little tired of being 'interrogated'."
Seamus felt suddenly queasy at the mention of interrogations. He still had a gash on his back that refused to heal right and so bled on occasion. But at least he had yet to spout anything that would get them all killed. It proved something, it seemed, though the ubers would never know it. Kludges were stronger than Nietzcheans thought.
Seamus went back to his tangle of wires, placing the wire-cutter in his pocket for later. " These things are junk anyway," he said after a time in order to quell his desire to take one. " But, man, the things I could do to one if they'd just let me. I could retrofit this thing so that it could leave atmosphere in a blink. Give it a slipstream core and we'd be makin' those ubers eat our space dust."
Brenden chuckled. " What do you know about slipstream? You haven't even been off this rock."
Seamus pointed his welder at Brenden. " Hey, I know a lot more than you think. Mrs. Carlson had a few old flexis about 'em she let me read personally. Said I would get them better than she could, and she's right, I do. I bet with the right crap I could build one."
" Oh," Brenden said. " So that's what all that crap is piled with the actual crap by the door."
" No, that's for my ship. I was just gonna steal a core. Probably be easier."
At this, Brenden doubled over in quiet laughter. He then straightened, resuming a serious air. " Seamus, you kill me."
Seamus shook his head. " Yeah, well at least I have a dream."
" Keep dreaming then. You're more likely to steal this piece of trash than a slipstream core. Unless, of course, part of your dream is dying a miserable death."
Seamus smirked. " Well, then, at least I can go saying I tried."
" You two better knock it off," Ike said from up top. " If I can hear you then you can both bet your skinny hides our 'kind employers' can."
Brenden waved dismissivly at his father. Ike shook his head, then vanished back over the top of the ship, only to appear a moment later.
" Trouble," he said. Both boys stopped to look up at the older man. Ike removed his goggles, the skin around his eyes made pale from the grease and soot on his face. He jerked his head back over his shoulder.
" Inspection time."
The two boys exchanged worried looks, then tossed their tools onto the bench. They removed their goggles, stepping back a few paces from the ship. Just as they did, a thick-armed uber with long blonde hair tied back in a tail approached. His uniform was sleeveless, letting the whole world know of his bulging muscles and spread bone blades. He gave the ship a cursory glance as though more interested in how it looked than how it functioned.
When he came to the back, Seamus tensed and averted his gaze to the floor like a humble servant. Though he was out of the way, the uber shoved him aside for effect. Seamus did not dare look up to see what the Nietzchean thought of their work. In truth, Seamus would not have cared, but a dissatisfied uber usually meant terrible pain.
" I've been hearing rumors," the blond uber said, " of thefts in the area. Minor things taken… but still. You two dogs wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"
Seamus' heart beat a rapid pulse, which was not good. Some ubers were said to be so audibly sensitive they could pick up a heartbeat if close enough.
" No sir," Brenden replied.
" No sir," Seamus echoed, his voice a little higher than normal. He chanced a brief glance up with only his eyes, and saw the uber studying the workbench littered with tools. It was then, with sudden terror, that Seamus remembered the wire cutter he had put in his pocket. He had forgotten about it. He had meant to use it eventually. If the uber found it in his pocket…
He started to tremble, though he tried to hold it in. Brenden shot him a look of profound worry, but all Seamus could do was shake his head.
" Something seems to be missing," the blonde Dragan said and he lightly brushed tools aside with the manner of one touching something unclean. Seamus felt ready to vomit. He chanced another glance in time to see the giant turn to face them. The uber then moved forward methodically, as though stalking. He moved directly toward Seamus, and Seamus cringed, his quaking increasing.
The uber towered over Seamus and folded his thick arms across his broad chest.
" You cold, kludge?" he asked. Seamus swallowed, trying to get his voice to work and his throat to stop constricting, but he could not.
" He – he's not well," Brenden replied. " He's been sick for some time…"
" I did not ask you, dog. I asked him."
The Nietzchean then placed his thick hand on Seamus' thin chest, and gradually began shoving the boy backward until he met the wall. He held Seamus there while he patted him down with his other hand, sneering in disgust.
" Bony little rat," the uber murmured. He then reached into the pocket of Seamus' coat and pulled out the wire cutters. Seamus widened his eyes in surprise, hoping…
" Hey, I was looking for those," he said in a quaking voice. " Totally forgot where I put them." He smacked his own forehead. " I'd forget where I put myself if I wasn't paying attention. Thanks."
He reached out to take the cutters only to have his hand smacked away. The uber's own hand began increasing the pressure on Seamus' chest.
" You know, just when we thought we had you Kludges taught, you go and do something like this, reminding us all why the Nietzchean race is so much better…"
The pressure increased, and Seamus was finding it difficult to breathe. Soon, he was unable to breathe at all. The uber dug his fingers and palm into Seamus' chest, pushing down on his sternum, preventing his ribcage from being able to spread and his lungs to expand. Seamus opened his mouth to emit a strangled squeak as he tried to inhale. Then pain began to radiate out from his sternum. His ribs creaked, creating more pain. Any more pressure and they would crack, crushing Seamus' lungs and heart.
A haze was filming over Seamus' eyes. He turned his gaze pleadingly toward Brenden who had now been joined by Ike and Mark. Brenden swallowed fearfully and stepped forward.
" He really did forget. He does it all the time," he said. Then Ike stepped forward, cringing slightly.
" Please, sir. He's a good kid, and a good mechanic. One of the best. I always make sure he doesn't walk off with anything, always. Please. I'm sorry he forgot, it won't happen again. Just please let him go."
The uber held his hand for a moment as the film deepened over Seamus' vision. Finally, after what seemed hours to Seamus but was only, in fact, a minute, the uber let off the pressure. Seamus gasped in a lungful of air despite the pain it caused in his chest. His legs became weak, and he began sliding down the wall, only to be lifted back up when the uber grabbed the front of his shirt.
" If I catch anything in his pockets again, I'll break his skinny kludge neck," the uber growled, and practically threw Seamus toward the others. Brenden and Ike caught him before he fell. The uber went back to his inspection, tossing the tool onto the workbench with a smirk.
Brenden and Ike helped Seamus to stand, then supported him while he caught his breath. He could not straighten, so leaned on Brenden's shoulder. He glared at the uber's back, but when the uber looked over his shoulder Seamus turned his eyes to the floor.
AAAAAAAAAAA
Seamus trudged home in the dying rain. The air was cold and his breath misted in the dark air. Soon the curfew siren would sound, and if Seamus were caught outside then he would suffer worse punishments.
Seamus was used to worse. He feared its coming, of course, since he'd rather not experience it. Yet after the fact he found that he could brush it aside easily enough. He knew how to ignore the pain, and even now was standing a little straighter, though the ache in his chest still existed. He had taught himself how to ignore it by excepting it and letting it happen. He could not let it get in his way, especially during the raids and attacks on the barracks.
The real worry lay in trying to explain the bruises on his chest to his mom and dad. The collar of his shirt was a little too big for him, so hung low. The bruises were already forming as dark splotches reaching up to his collarbones. Seamus kept trying to adjust the shirt in hopes of hiding it, but it kept slipping forward again. He knew that when his dad saw the bruises he would react by holding back his anger, stomping away into another room or turning away to busy himself with something else. When his mom saw them, she would go quiet and not speak for hours, then would act as though nothing had happened. Seamus hated seeing this, and the closer he came to home the sicker he felt.
Seamus had told Ike, Mark, and Brenden to go on ahead, saying he would only slow them down. But he could hear their voices not far away, and at times saw them looking back toward him when they crested a rise.
He was still the last to arrive at the decrepit building where they dwelt. He stopped only ten steps away from the entrance with its patchy metal sheet for a door. The rain that had been falling in a light drizzle began to pick up, so he had no choice but to go in.
His steps were hesitant as he approached, and he kept adjusting his shirt, futile though it was. He pulled the rusting door open and stepped into the long corridor. People shuffled by, giving him a momentary look of recognition. Swallowing hard, Seamus moved toward the door that led into the rooms that made up home.
Seamus swallowed again when he came to the door and pushed it open. He stepped into what was supposed to be the kitchen with the wash basin and stove. He saw his mother sitting at the table with her head in her hands. Seamus' heart beat faster.
" M-mom?"
She slowly lifted her head. The flickering light in the kitchen was poor, but it was enough to reveal the bruise on her eye and the dried blood under her nose. Seamus' eyes widened.
She lowered her eyes. " You're father doesn't know yet."
" What happened?" Seamus asked. Cassie wiped the blood from her nose with her sleeve.
" Do you really have to ask?"
Seamus shrugged. " Guess it's a habit."
Cassie nodded, then her gaze went straight to Seamus' chest and the darkening bruises. Her own eyes rounded over.
" What happened?"
Seamus smiled wanly. " You really have to ask?"
Cassie smiled in return, and both allowed themselves a quiet laugh.
