It was early, and Olexa sang. Her tune was mournful but her spirit was light as she handed out bread to the children with the help of eleven-year-old Taj. Taj was good with the youngest children, Marisol and Jeneta, who were only six but hot-tempered-as they came. The two little girls often fought, and Taj was the only one who was ever really successful at settling their little quarrels.
"Olexa," ten-year-old Shayne asked over a mouthful of stale bread, "when we live on the surface again, will we get food that isn't so nasty as this?"
Although none of the children had a habit of complaining, Olexa was a big advocate of honesty among the children, and Shayne apparently took this to heart. Olexa smiled at him. "I'm sure we will, Shayne," she said. "Maybe not right away, but yes, once we get settled we'll eat better." Olexa truly believed this. After all, there was always food on the surface – it was only a matter of finding it. Shayne seemed satisfied by her answer, anyway – he smiled happily and continued chewing his bread.
The other children were quiet, unusually so, and it made Olexa slightly nervous. "Where's Liam?" she asked Taj.
The younger girl grimaced. "Folding up the bedrolls and sweeping the floor in the dorm," she said with a hint of scorn in her voice. "I told that boy he needs to come and eat his bread, but he said he'll eat later and that I should give his portion to the little kids. Says he promises to eat later." Now a sneer edged her voice. "He's a bad liar. I kept his bread. You'll make him eat it, won't you?"
"I can't make him do anything," Olexa replied. "He'll eat when he gets hungry. He's a sensible kid."
"Not street-sensible," Taj muttered. "I'm telling ya, he'll be the death of us all. He's too obsessed with organizing stuff to worry about actually surviving."
This was true, and Olexa didn't try to deny it. She wanted to defend Liam – after all, he was her best friend – but there wasn't anything to say that would sound sensible. Taj was streetwise and cynical – she'd grown up in the water slums and was robbing houses by age seven. Although she refrained from theft here, in their family, Olexa knew that it wouldn't take much on the surface to send Taj back to her old ways.
Just then, Liam entered the room. "Everything's ready," he announced loudly.
"Let's get moving," Olexa declared.
If she thought the journey she and Liam had taken the previous night had been terrifying, there could be no words to describe the utter fear that gripped her heart now and turned her into a quivering icy mass that woodenly gave Taj and Liam orders. If the others were as terrified as she, they didn't show it. Slowly their band of friends made their way down the tunnel and out of the safe zone.
Now Liam and Olexa led the way, guns out. This was the most critical part of the journey. If they were seen now, before they reached the surface, they would have to go back into hiding, perhaps for months. And they all knew the food would run out soon.
Olexa tensed and tapped Liam on the shoulder. "Have you heard anything out there?" she asked, motioning toward the darkness.
Liam shook his head firmly, but edged the children forward faster. At last Olexa passed through the grate, sliding it shut and locking it. She breathed a sigh of relief and looked around in terrible awe.
What had once been the proud city of Haven was a mass of rubble and dust. Scraps of litter fluttered in the icy wind, and the light, so very much brighter than that of the dim torches, temporarily blinded all of them. When she could see again, Olexa looked up at the skeletons of the once-bustling skyscrapers. She felt like crying. Although the city had never been a very happy place, it was her home nonetheless, and she had many happy memories from it.
Her throat caught as she glimpsed the remains of a street vendor's stand, all torn cloth and shattered wood, scattered across the dusty street. They were clearly in the South Bazaar, near the entrance to the Upper Agricultural District. And they were utterly alone.
"Liam," Olexa murmured, "have you monitored the Upper Farms?" She put her arms around Laurelee, who was looking about with her large cocoa-colored eyes filled with tears.
"It's completely destroyed. The Metal Heads and KG patrols smashed the walls and left. The plants have probably taken over, fed by Dark Eco. It's wild. Dangerous," he added, as if she wouldn't know.
Olexa rolled her eyes. "But there might be food. How dangerous could plants be?"
"Dark Eco plants? Very very dangerous," Liam said grimly.
"Well, Sharlot knows the plants. We'll be okay." Olexa smiled at the nine-year-old girl. Sharlot, they had discovered, had a rare power highly prized in Haven City – she could speak to the plants, encourage them, and then they would grow tall and strong. Sharlot rarely spoke to people – she preferred plants.
Ten-year-old Willem stood close to Liam. He looked frightened. They all did.. In the cool, pale autumn sunlight the children looked gaunt and pale. "We'll move around," Liam said. "Keep a close eye out." Nervously he looked at the skies. "Olexa," he said, "do you think they can see us… from up there?"
She knew he meant the War Factory, haunting the skies. "No," she said decidedly, "they can't. We're small, and too far below them."
Liam nodded, his nerves somewhat eased by Olexa's confident answer.
It took them hours to go over a fairly short distance. They had to climb over hug mountains of dusty rubble. Arya, who was fifteen, mute, and, in Olexa's opinion, slightly stupid, accidentally gashed her leg open on a nasty-looking wire. Olexa examined and bandaged the cut, deeming it "not too deep; just rough."
Once, Jewelle and Willem, who were siblings by birth, stood in the middle of a cracked stone road and stared at the front of what appeared to be a burned-out shop. The two kids were quivering with – what was it—rage? Sadness?
"This is our parents' shop," Willem told Olexa solemnly. "They sold rope and clay pots, and we were there when the Metal Heads burned it." His voice was monotone, and he soon turned away.
"Let's keep moving," Olexa said. Her voice shook as she struggled to keep calm. She could see, in the back of the shop, two charred, slightly mummified bodies, and she hoped to the Precursors the children hadn't seen it.
With a sigh, Liam led their group of eleven over the next mountain of rubble. "Sweet!" Shayne crowed. "Look – a slide!" And, with a shout, he disappeared.
"Oh, gods!" Taj screamed. "That idiot!" And she sat on the slide – half a sewer pipe – and went after him, screaming curses all the way.
The rest of them scrambled down the rubble, looking for Shayne and Taj.
Suddenly there was a loud sound – the clamor of falling rocks and shrill screaming. With a cry, Olexa leapt forward (so worried so worried) and searched blindly through the rubble. "Olexa!" someone was screaming, "we found them! Stop!"
Someone was leading her away. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Shayne and Taj were chorusing, but she could hardly hear them. When she looked up, they were all staring at her. "I'm sorry too," Olexa said with an apologetic smile. "I was just… so worried."
Taj patted her shoulder awkwardly. "We're okay," she reassured Olexa. "And guess what – there's the door."
"Score!" Willem screamed. He raced toward the door.
"Willem wait!" Olexa screamed. "We all go together."
It was too late. A blinding white light burst from behind the door. Olexa's head pounded. She could not look away. It felt like every part of her was filled with whit-hot light. Her blood seemed to be boiling. She fell to the ground… she didn't see, couldn't see… oh precursors, the pain…