The Metal Heads were all gone; there was nothing left here for them. Every building had been looted, every pane of glass smashed, every trash can tipped over, its contents scattered and usually eaten. All technology and all life had been destroyed, and for a while ever the rats were afraid to venture out in the depths of the night, afraid to be caught unwary and walk into the waiting jaws of some yellow-eyed, black-blooded drooling monster. The Metal Heads were hungry for a while, hungry and wasting away, until finally the received the order to leave their posts and report to the Hive: a new empire, one ruled by Metal Heads, was being established, and this dead and ruined area was of no use to them now.
After a time, the rats dared to venture out once again, to thrive in the filth and ruin that now was the only thing left of a once-proud section of a once-proud city. Croca-dogs prowled and rats were rampant, for another elfin face had not been glimpsed within the ruin for so long that the creatures had completely forgotten all that had once been.
A shifting and crunching of rubble drew the attention of a group of pigeons. They scattered as the glimpsed a bright, unnatural light from within the midnight darkness. They scattered, and saw no more of that area at that time. If they had stayed, they would have seen a child of about twelve or so round the corner bathed in the harsh light of the torch he held in his hand. It was deep in the midnight hours, and the shadowy-lined face of the boy hid the fear that had his heart beating a rhythm of death. He looked around for a moment and then turned and waved the torch into the darkness. A faint light in the darkness showed that there was another torch-bearer in the distance. The boy watched as the other torch-bearer drew nearer, the bead of light bobbing from side to side with each step.
The light, nearer, revealed a girl. She had long black hair in a brain down her back, and she wore a brown overcoat that was too big for her. She appeared to be about fourteen, although she may have been big for her age. She spoke briefly to the boy in a low voice, and they set off into the darkness, taking a trail of light with them. There were none in the ruin to be disturbed as the two slipped on the loose rock of the piles of rubble, and, breathing heavily, disappeared into a small sewer grate and pulled it shut with a grating click.
The two children advanced down a dripping tunnel. Mold grew on the cold stone walls and floor, and their bare feet slid around. They walked as fast as they could – there were sometimes a few Metal Head patrols down there, and the girl's hand rested on a slim black gun at her hip. Her eyes darted around, and she audibly sighed with relief as the two of them passed through another grate and locked it behind them.
The two children sat down on rocks they used as chairs. The girl found herself breathing heavily, afraid of the consequences of what she had just dared to do. "Liam," she said to the boy, "do you think it's safe up there?"
"It's not safe anywhere, Olexa," he replied with a sigh. He was still a boy, not yet to puberty, and his voice squeaked slightly. "But yes, I'd say it's safer there than anywhere else." He stood up and stretched his leg muscles. "We'll all go up tomorrow, as planned, right?"
Olexa nodded. "You're absolutely sure that there are no more patrols?" She looked a little doubtful.
"You're spent just as much time monitoring it as I have," Liam said with a hint of impatience. "You know as well as I do that there's nothing out there."
Olexa nodded and stood up. "I'm going to go and check the dorms," she murmured. "Everyone should be asleep by now."
"I'll check security, and be with you in a minute," Liam muttered, slightly ashamed at being cross with her. "It's safe, Olexa. I promise."
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The "dorm" was a long, low room, slightly less damp than the tunnel. The cold stone floor was littered with pieces of rock. Some of the loose rock against the wall had begun to shift and crack. But other than that, the room was tidy and well-managed. Olexa listened to the sounds of even, deep, relaxed breathing and for a little while there was a peaceful calm.
But Olexa braced herself for what she knew would be coming soon: the whimpers and cries she comforted every night. This was about the time the nightmares began. Olexa didn't know why; there seemed to be no explanation for the way the children began to scream in the night, almost exactly at the same time.
A whimper came from the end of the room. Olexa walked down the rows of bedrolls that were laid out to become an uncomfortable but necessary row of makeshift beds for the children.
Of course, it was Laurelee. She was usually the one who suffered the worst. She cried out in her sleep, and tears ran down her face, glittering golden in the dim light of the few torches that lined the walls for those of the children who feared the dark.
"Ahn… no, Ahn!" Laurelee screeched. Olexa sat and looked at her, waiting for her to wake up. Liam, who was more educated than Olexa, had told her to simply let the children dream, and not to comfort them, but she couldn't bear to watch them suffer and not help them. When she would not give in, Liam simply told her to at least let them wake themselves. This she was willing to comply with.
With another cry, Laurelee sat up. Burying her face in her hands, the seven-year-old sobbed silently for a moment. Then she looked up at Olexa, and pure anguish shone in her tear-filled brown eyes. "They took Ahn," Laurelee whispered. "They took her….. they shot her for using a JET-board…. I remember things…."
"I know you do," Olexa said soothingly, giving the girl's thin body a tight hug. "But someday the memories won't hurt as much. I promise you that."
"When is someday?" Laurelee asked, wiping tears from her face. "Is it tomorrow?"
"It's soon," Olexa promised the little girl. "It is very very soon."
Another child cried out, and Olexa went to comfort him. Her mind was sluggish with fatigue, but there were hours of work left to do if they were to move out of the sewers the next morning. Olexa longed to feel sunlight on her pale skin, and to feel a breeze that would ruffle her long hair as it had when she lived with Mother Maria on the plains as a small child. But these simple pleasures most took for granted would have to wait until tomorrow. For now, at least, there were children to comfort, then meager belongings and dwindling supplies to inventory and pack, and then, much later, if she was lucky, a few hours of sleep.
Several minutes later, Liam entered the room. Olexa was soothing yet another child, and several others were struggling in their sleep. Liam's sadness only grew through the long minutes he spent helping Olexa comfort the small children and reassure the older ones.
It was perhaps another hour before all of the children but Liam and Olexa were asleep again. They dreamed, as a rule, once per night; this was how it always had gone.
Olexa would have liked to sit back and close her eyes in a deep, forever sleep. But no – she had to pack up the few spare items the group owned, and make sure that the rest of the supplies were packed up and stored efficiently.
She took a brief rest and a few deep breaths. "What do you want me to do?" Liam's voice startled her back into reality. "Just go to sleep and be ready to work hard tomorrow," she instructed him.
He shook his head in protest and began to walk toward the door. "I'll start packing," he murmured. "You'll be in in a bit?"
Olexa stood up and followed him. "I'll be in now." Neither of them spoke again as they started to bag up the spare blankets, jackets, and sturdy boots that Olexa and her twin sister Muriel had stolen from a shop when the city had first been in complete chaos, just before the fall of the Palace. That had been three months ago, before their little band of lost children had come together in the sewers and begun to safeguard themselves from the utter hell that the city on the surface had become. And, as for Muriel, Olexa chased the thoughts from her mind and forced herself to smile for a moment, even though no one could see her. She pasted on this fake smile, this lie, and worked faster.
At last she came upon the one item she hoped had been lost. She never wanted to see it again. But for all the hatred and pain she felt as she looked at it, for all the wanting to fall to her knees on the stone floor and retch, she could not help bringing the beautiful quilted down jacket to her face and breathing in the lingering scent that brought back so many memories that she, like Laurelee, wanted only to forget.
Raspberries. It smelled like raspberries, the scent Muriel always wore. Olexa never had any use for such things, but Muriel like the scent and she wore raspberry-scented perfume every day.
Olexa stifled the combination whimper-yawn that rose from her throat. She resisted the urge to throw the jacket away. It had been Muriel's, and she just wanted to forget….
Liam took the jacket gently from her hands and put it in the bag. He did not offer any type of consolation – it was not his way, and besides, he knew it wouldn't do any good. Some grief could only be comforted by time. "Keep on going, or there won't be time for sleep," he warned. Olexa merely nodded.
Liam went back to his own work, troubled by Olexa's silence. He knew only that the jacket had belonged to Olexa's sister Muriel, and that Muriel was "gone." Liam had never met Muriel – Olexa had been alone when she first found Liam starving on the streets and showed him the fine art of picking the purses of the dead scattered on the streets. Liam thought that Olexa carried a secret, but he had never inquired – that, too, was not his way.
At last it was over, this time of packing that would lead the way to a new beginning for them and their little makeshift family. They piled the sturdy but filthy pile of brown cloth bags near the grate that marked the boundary of their safe zone. With a murmured "Goodnight," the two of them retired to their bedrolls on opposite sides of the dorm. Near-darkness and silence left them completely alone to think their thoughts.
Liam couldn't imagine what must've happened to the children, and to Olexa, to make them the way they were – gaunt and fearful, tortured by nightmares that they would hardly speak of. At least the younger ones were comforted Liam rarely had nightmares, but Olexa awoke screaming just as often as the young children. Olexa wanted no comfort in her nightly torment. It troubled Liam, but her kept silent for Olexa's sake. He didn't want to upset her further.
He thought for a moment. What did he have to have nightmares about? The worst moment of his life had been when he first stole from a corpse. The streets of Haven City were littered with mangled bodies. They Metal Heads would devour part of a victim, but with so much prey running around wildly, they couldn't help but get sidetracked.
"They'll have lots of money on them," Olexa had whispered in his ear. "Just take the wallet and get out of the way of the Metal Heads." Clearly Olexa accepted this was a way of life, but that made it no easier for Liam. Stealing from the dead seemed like a horrible crime. "They're not going to miss it," Olexa reassured him, but he saw sadness in her eyes.
Across from him in the dorm, he hear a whimpering sigh and a fretful breath as Olexa slept.