Field Mice

2. Home, or Something Like It.

The walk home was a nightmare.

Elijah said all of one word. Similarly, there was little smalltalk among the rest of the group. Sara, as she introduced herself, chattered constantly. Apparently, being trussed up over a rebel’s shoulder did nothing to still her desire to socialize.

"So why’d you guys grab me, anyway?" she eventually asked, craning her neck to inspect the back of Elijah’s head. The man only shrugged, and, ignoring the fact that it may have been to adjust her weight to a more comfortable position, Sara took it as an insult.

"Ugh!" she cried out, frustrated, "You people are the worst kidnappers I have ever met!"

Elijah stopped in his tracks, and uttered his single, disbelieving word, "What...?"

Similarly, Tyler stopped in mid-step. His nervous snicker belied his genuine care when he asked, "Do you want help?"

Elijah shook his head, resuming his stride with more enthusiasm than he felt.

---

Despite the dusty, mostly dead earth under the shadow of the rocky mesa, there were patches of sparse vegetation. A sign that life could still prosper under the adverse conditions. And it was near here that Home existed, a mix of hovels hidden in the crags and overhangs. The spot was chosen for the formation of caves under the same cliff, many of which had been converted for shelter or storage.

As they passed the Barrier – the first defense checkpoint of the encampment, named in honor of that which kept people safe a century past – there was a slight pique in attention. Those with the energy picked up the pace, leaving those more burdened or with less stamina trailing behind.

Flippancy still in place to hide concern, Tyler kept by his friend. His share of the altogether haul seemed insignificant in comparison… and at all of thirty pounds, it quite was.

His silently sworn obligation, however, was thrown to the wind as they passed the second checkpoint some yards thus, for it was here that Angela appeared from the rocky surroundings. She stepped up as she caught his eye, and he dropped his backpack to match pace and meet her halfway.

"Aww, how cu-uuee!" Sara’s comment was broken off as Elijah shifted her over one shoulder so as to pick up Tyler’s lost bag. Unfortunately, the abrupt shift did little to stifle her seemingly endless barrage of commentary, "Hey, nice...!"

"You dropped this," Elijah grunted, letting the extra burden drop at Tyler’s feet in passing. Caught sheepish, the young man did the prudent thing upon realizing that Commander Hein was watching. He reclaimed his duty quick, though not without an air of rebellion: as he continued towards that hidden under the cliffside, he had his backpack on one arm and a lady on the other.

---

"You’re not leaving her here."

Elijah stumbled in the doorway of the vault, blood cold. It took all the inner strength he had to turn around rather than run screaming.

"What?"

"She wasn’t a part of the heist," the commander explained calmly, as though talking to a child, "And someone needs to make her comfortable until we figure out what to do with her."

Elijah peeked. Sara grinned broadly and waved exuberantly, "Hi!"

The single thought repeated, and seemed to be the only thing he would ever think again.

Ohman,whyme?

---

Commander Hein seated himself at the provisional table. There was a lack of professionalism to the hierarchy of their infamous little group, and sometimes he missed the more ridged system he had grown accustomed to.

His peers gathered around. While people joined for numerous reasons, only these people – and a mirror of their council in their sister faction – knew what they were fighting for. Something was happening in the remaining cities of the world, and they were swiftly forsaken by the forerunners of the rebellion. No one knew the full story, only pieces. And those that knew also understood that it was better to be alive in the wild, hidden, than it was to be hunted down for asking too many questions of the way things were going.

Suppressing the worry he had yet to voice, Hein began his report with an ominous touch.

"This has never happened before…"