Nietzchean is not a fun word to spell. Thank goodness for uber.

Ch. 4

17 Yrs. old

Mark quietly paced the narrow hallway as Seamus stuffed the grenades into a patchwork duffel. He kept glancing at Mark whose thin body was rigid as a pipe.

" You don't have to go, you know," Seamus said.

Mark kept slapping his shriller into his palm. " I know."

" You said you weren't feeling good. That's reason enough."

Mark shook his head. " I want to go."

" Yeah, right," Harper grumbled.

" No, I do, really. It's a distraction run, those aren't so bad."

Seamus closed the bag with two hard pulls on the strength. " Not bad? We talking about the same thing here? I'd rather be part of the attack on the hangar. But hey, I suppose if a few ubers lose a few body parts in the process then it's all good. It'll serve 'em right for the beating they gave my dad yesterday."

Mark began twirling his shriller and nodded absent-mindedly. " True. You can't pass up a good noise-run. I just… I don't know Seamus. We've been doing so many lately every since we joined with the Johansen gang, and the ubers have been on us like fleas. I don't know if my back can take any more lashes, it's starting to look like ground rat-meat. And what if we get caught this time?"

Seamus narrowed his eyes, lifting the bag to heft it over his shoulder. " You say that every run, Mark." Seamus' legs almost gave out from the weight of the bag, and Mark had to catch him to help him back up.

" The ubers are getting closer, I know it. They'll find us out."

Seamus staggered until he finally leaned against the stained wall for support. He slapped Mark's shoulder in good nature. " Mark, pal, what's our motto?"

" Survive as one."

" Exactly. We all stick by eachother and blame everything on the nearest traitor we know. Yeah, sure, it hasn't worked so far, but it's still fun to try. We'll have your back, Mark, I promise."

Mark nodded stiffly, just as Brenden walked in, tossing his shriller and catching it with a triumphant smile on his face.

" The Johansen boys are in place. Time to go play a game with the ubers."

Seamus smiled wickedly, and even Mark could not help a slight smirk of his own. Mark took the end of the bag and helped Seamus to carry it outside. They then began the arduous process of slipping undetected past the various curfew patrols, ducking behind ruins, piles, into holes, and beneath bridges. When they came to the concrete canal they carefully slid down it into ankle-high murky water cluttered with old ship frames and hulls.

They had no way of contacting the Johansens, and no way of telling the passage of time, so everything would rely on the noise created by the chaos. Brenden, Mark, and Seamus were making their way to the uber barracks near the hangar, paying careful attention to their path so they could retrace it when they fled.

When they came to the demolished bridge with its center blown away and beams sticking out like bare bones, they climbed out of the canal and moved like rats to the protective fence around the barracks.

This was where Seamus Harper's genius could finally be put to use other than slapping together tiny, useless robots. He pulled a metal box from his bag, complete with several jump starter cables. He placed each cable on the wire of the fence until a large half circle was created. Then he and Brenden proceeded to cut the electric free wire away as the cables altered the current through the box. Once the hole was formed they crawled through, dragging the bag with them.

The barracks were a cluster of those buildings less damaged than the surrounding buildings of Boston. Ubers were everywhere; pacing the grounds, stalking the roofs, and following along the fences. The small group of boys needed to act quickly before a patrolling uber came upon the hole in the fence. Each boy exchanged intense looks expressing excitement as well as betraying their fear. Seamus opened the bag of explosives, each boy taking as many as he could. Then they put their shrillers to their mouths, set the timers for the grenades, pulled back their arms, and blew the shrillers just as they released.

The grenades were powerful; creating an explosion that tore the air and unleashed a towering ball of flame. Pieces of barrack structure flew everywhere, along with several bodies.

The boys laughed hysterical with both overpowering elation and utter terror. They then stood and began running about, blowing on the shrillers and tossing explosives anywhere they could. Chaos ensued as ubers came spilling from their shelters like ants, spreading out to seek their attackers.

Several ubers fell to their knees while covering their ears. Others only cringing managed to get off a few shots at the thin bodies darting by. But the boys were small and quick compared to the Dragan soldiers. They did not stop running as they lobbed of the explosives. Pieces of buildings and even body parts fell after each explosion. Seamus, feeling suddenly brave, ran a little closer, tossing a grenade through a window, then running away. It was much like the games they had played when they were children. They were attacking, yes, but they had since learned that the attackers could be the good guys as well. Attacking could be a kind of defense as well.

Seamus' heart raced and his blood burned with adrenaline. He ran so fast that he felt as though he were flying. It was a wondrous feeling of the kind he hoped would go on forever. Had he wings, he would have never touched the ground again. He was running toward the night, toward the stars, even away from the planet. It was as though he were running to a place beyond the system where both ubers and Magog would never be able to find him again, all while leaving destruction in his wake. He felt invincible, like one of the High Guard war ships his teacher had shown them on a singed flexi.

In his elation, Seamus shouted out a long whoop of joy, then began laughing wildly as he tossed off another bomb. Dangerous as these runs were, frightened as he felt before them, he loved them all the same. They made his life more than what it was, and gave him something to look forward to when tomorrow came. It was the closest he ever came to true freedom.

And then it ended when pain exploded in his shoulder. He fell chest first into the dirt, dropping both his shriller and grenades to clutch at his searing arm, crying out with the agony it caused him.

He rolled onto his side and lifted his hand away to see blood smeared on his fingers and palm. He then angled his neck to look at his shoulder. The sleeve of his jacket was singed near the shoulder, and blood was already staining the rim of the hole created. But it was not as bad as it looked. He had been grazed rather than the blast puncturing through the arm itself, shattering the bone.

But the pain was excruciating, and stars flashed before his vision. Then he heard the heavy but quick tromp of boots. Fear cleared his head, and he looked back to see an uber running straight at him with gauze rifle lifted and aimed.

Panic took hold of Seamus. He sucked in a ragged breath then reached out for his shriller. It was only an inch from his finger, but he did not have strength enough to get back up. He stretched, scooting his body forward as best he could while behind him the footfalls became louder than the noises around him.

" Don't move rat!" the uber snarled.

Seamus managed to get his middle finger on the shriller. He moved it carefully toward himself, then snatched it up just as the uber stomped his heavy foot down on Seamus' back. Seamus cried out again, but cut it short when he blew into the thin metal pipe, emitting a terrible shrill. Now it was the Dragan soldier who cried out, stumbling back to get away from the terrible sound.

Seamus kept blowing as he struggled to his feet and hobbled away. He fell several more times, and each time found it harder to get back up again. He knew, with a terrified certainty, that he would never make it to the fence and out.

" Seamus!" Someone called. Seamus squinted against the light of the blazing buildings and his haze of pain to see a narrow-bodied figure running quickly toward him.

" Brenden?"

Brenden did not stop, only slow to get Seamus' arm around his neck and help the smaller boy to the hole in the fence. Behind them a shriller continued to sound.

Seamus' heart leaped into his throat and he tried to pull away from his cousin.

" No, wait! Mark, we need to get Mark!"

Seamus tried to turn and go back, but Brenden continued to haul him toward the fence. Though both boys were mal-nourished, Brenden was the stronger since Seamus was wounded.

" No!" Brenden said between gritted teeth. " I'll get him. You get out of here."

The shriller continued to sound more and more, faster and faster like a desperate cry for help. It pierced even their ears, stabbing into their hearts, and making them move quicker so that Brenden could go back and find their friend.

Then, when they came to the hole in the fence, a blaster fired. The whistle of the shriller ended abruptly. Both boys stopped and turned.

" Mark," Seamus mouthed. His heart lurched, and the heat that had burning in his blood turned to ice.

" Mark!" he screamed, trying to pull away from Brenden. Tears flooded his eyes to blur the world around him. Brenden continued to hold him back, then began dragging him through the hole.

" Mark No! No!" Seamus screamed, over and over, his voice ripping from his throat like a dagger. " Nooooooo!"

Brenden pulled him through the hole though Seamus clawed at the dirt and fence to pull free.

" We have to go back!" Seamus shrieked. " We have to get him! I promised! I promised him he would be okay!"

" It's too late, Seamus!" Brenden cried. He dragged Seamus to the rim of the canal, and both boys tumbled down into its safety. Brenden then grabbed a struggling Seamus by the shoulders, forcing him around. He took the smaller boy's face in his hands, forcing him to look him in his eyes.

" Seamus! It's too late! He's gone!" Tears fell from Brenden's eyes, and his hands began to tremble. He swallowed. " Mark's gone man… He's gone."

Seamus stared at Brenden in disbelief, sick with sorrow, terror, anger, and hopelessness.

" I promised him Brenden. I promised him." Seamus began shivering, his body strangely cold and numb, though his throat and arm ached horribly. Brenden gathered his cousin, who had always been like a little brother to him, into a fierce hug.

" I know man," Brenden said in a choked voice. " We both did. We both did. But we can't stay. We have to get back. We have to live… then we can mourn."

AAAAAAAAAAAA

Cassie could not sleep, though she was weary to the bone. She felt cold all over, and terrible images kept flashing through her mind every time she closed her eyes.

Seamus was not in the sleeping room, curled in his corner on the dirty cushions and blankets that made his bed. She did not see him leave. She had been asleep then, but awoke from a nightmare. She had heard the steady breathing of her husband beside her, but not the troubled moans and fearful whimpers of her son lost in another dream of pain, writhing with the discomfort of hunger.

She did not sit up to confirm her suspicions though. She did not want to, not this time. He was on another run, which was something she could never stop him from doing no matter how Eli and herself tried. There was something about those runs that seemed to scratch a never-ending itch Seamus always had. Somehow, it made life easier for him, and quelled his constant anger. So despite the worry that made her stomach clench, she had given up on trying to stop him. Besides, in a way, a small part of her was glad he did them. He was fighting against the ubers, and if one had to die sooner than later, it would be a better end for the boy; to die as a wolf rather than a mule, as her father had once said hours before he had been executed.

Had she her way, Seamus would live to be an old man, with children of his own. But she had yet to get anything her way.

" Aunt Cassie?"

The voice was a whisper, but it broke the silence like a gun. Cassie lifted her head to see the outline of a head peeking through the door of the sleeping room. She did not dare turn on any lights that a patrolling uber might see.

" Brenden?" Her heart started beating faster, and a chill tread down her back. " What is it? Where's Seamus?"

" He's here. But – but he's hurt."

Cassie threw back the blankets, being careful not to wake her husband who needed the rest more than she did right now. She walked softly from the room, then quickened her pace to follow Brenden into the kitchen. The ragged curtains of the misshapen windows had already been closed, and one of Seamus' crudely made flashlights was standing upright on the table.

Seamus was sitting at the table with his shoulders hunched. Cassie could see by the light his red eyes and the tear stains on his face. She could also see the ragged hole in his sleeve, and the bloody wound on his arm.

" What happened?" she asked. On seeing Seamus alive and home, she had managed to gather her fear deeper within herself and hold it there so that she could think clearly.

" The run… It went wrong. We lost – lost Mark," Brenden replied in a thick voice. Cassie turned to him in horror.

" Mark?"

Brenden looked to the floor to hide the tears trying to resurface. " He… didn't make it."

Cassie put her hand on her nephew's bony shoulder. " Oh Brenden, I'm so sorry. Does his family know yet?"

Brenden shook his head.

" You need me to tell them?"

Brenden shook his head again, then looked up to meet Cassie's gaze. " I'll tell them. I'll tell them now."

He then left the small room through the door. Cassie watched him go, sorrow intertwining with relief. They had lost one, but two had survived. It was a cold thought yet she could not help it.

She turned back to her son, who sat perfectly still and quiet except for the occasional tremor in his shoulders. She set aside her sadness for Mark and his family, and went to the left side corner of the kitchen where her husband hid his moonshine. She knelt and lifted a panel in the floor, then removed one of the dirty bottles within. She took a dry rag from a crooked shelf and moved over to Seamus' side. She then began removing his jacket in a meticulous way so as to hurt him as little as possible. He did not react except for a slight wince when she pulled the material free of the burnt flesh. She then pulled the collar of his shirt over his shoulder, almost down to the elbow.

" Seamus?" she said, since her son had yet to respond. She took the cloth and poured the alcohol onto it, soaking it through. She then placed it gently over the wound, and when she did Seamus sucked in a sharp, hissing breath.

" Sorry kid," she said, smoothing back his spiked hair. " I know it hurts."

" It doesn't last forever," he quietly said.

" I meant about Mark."

Seamus lowered his gaze. " I know."

Cassie tilted her head to one side. " It's okay to feel sad for him. You three were like brothers."

Seamus sighed a shuddering breath. " He didn't want to go. He was acting really scared and he wasn't feeling well. I promised him that nothing would happen to him."

Cassie squinted her eyes thoughtfully. " Did you make him go?"

Seamus shook his head no.

" Then it wasn't your fault. It was his choice."

" I think he thought we would look at him like a coward if he didn't," Seamus replied.

" It was still his choice. You can't make anyone do anything Seamus. And you can't save everyone. This is a dangerous game you're playing, these runs. I always hate it when you go on them. It's death waiting to happen, Seamus. It's anti-survival."

Seamus looked at his mother, and anger blazed in his eyes. " They deserve it. Someone has to fight back. Someone has to show them we're not just dogs to be kicked around."

" But it only makes things worse," Cassie said, almost pleading. " The Dragans don't care what we're capable of. You kill one of them; they take away ten of us or kill fifty of us. We are the ones forced to learn, Seamus, not the other way around. The ubers will never see us for anything else but kludges. There is no winning against them."

Seamus looked away again. " We can at least try."

Cassie began rubbing her son's back along his protruding backbone.

" I know kid. I just wish it wasn't the case. I don't want anything to happen to you Seamus. You're all we got. We want you to survive, for as long as you can."

" Why?" Seamus asked, still looking away. " What's the point?"

Cassie shrugged. " 'Cause you never know what might come. You just never know…"