44
It was dark, not totally but the pinpoints of light let in through the slats in the bars did little to help with vision as the crate seemed to move like tentacles of some great leviathan, but it was in fact people. Beside it a larger one that was less full allowing those within the space to separate and mourn in moderate peace as in the over packed crate those writhing silently wailed and choked in death …. A tomb for those of the dead and dying.
The drone of the engine changed, the vessel they were in dipped and more than one shrieked as something broke from the sudden loss of gravity followed by sudden weight. Ianto turned his head in an attempt to ignore those he could not help across the small space of the cargo hold.
Ianto had his own problems.
Ianto felt his son's hunger and fear. Ianto cuddled the baby with open fear as he tried to hide both the little bundle and Caden from the others in the pen. It stank, was too hot and he was watching a mother mourn as her own chick lay limp in her arms, already gone.
He glanced over at the men who were yelling as they slammed themselves at the bars, screaming for water and food for their kind, the sobbing growing louder as a woman wailed softly, her waters breaking and her mate repeating over and over again that it was too soon.
Too soon.
Ianto tried to cover Caden's face, tried to save him the horror of watching the half cooked chick flopping into the world only to struggle briefly and then fade away, as the mother lay there sobbing softly, her own spark dimming with the grief.
Ianto looked down at his own little boys, their eyes wide and searching for love, attention and reassurance. He knew his smile was weak but all he had to give.
Jack was gone, everything was gone.
Ash.
They had come for them, grabbing them as they had stood in the supermarket between the toilet paper and the pet food. There had been no time to run, not with Jack falling dead at his feet from the sonic boom of the rifle that was the first indictor that there was even a problem. The image of Alice huddled over her father's corpse was burned into his retinas.
He could still smell the bug blood as they had valiantly thrown themselves to his defence even as they knew it was also to their demise.
Now the cuckoos all huddled forlornly with their wings clipped, caged birds waiting to see if they were required to sing or fill a fucking pot. Children begged for comfort, drink, poor chickies all starved and terrified. Some were well dressed, others naked. All taken by force at the behest of those who sought a cleansing.
The baby sniffled and Ianto despaired with his milk long since gone with the fear and lack of food. He looked up as the sound of shuffling and squeaking heralded the food cart. He looked at Caden "Stay here with Astie."
Caden nodded as he took his baby sibling in his arms, his eyes wide with fear.
Ianto rose and entered the fray as they all screamed and roared, struggled and snarled as they fought for a handful of food. Ianto swung with malice, his training making short work of those who stood up to him and he finally limped back to his babies, the other children gleefully eating the spoils he had dragged over to them before choosing his own and letting the other adults finally eat.
Caden was crying.
Crying.
Ianto stirred and sat up in the bed, glancing over at Jack as he snored softly then he rose and padded thtough the house to Caden's room where his little one lay in repose. So sweet. So perfect. So safe. He moved to Alice, then found himself in the nursery looking around as his heart still pounded like he had just run a marathon. He walked down to the keep and stood in the cool night air. His chick fluttered in his gut, the dream lingering there too.
"Just a dream" he said softly as the Panther Plant bowed down to scent him. "I had a bad dream kitty. I'm OK."
The flower bent low and her scent was heady as she nuzzled against him and then rose majestically to keep watch through the night.
His fear sour to her fine taste.
She didn't like it at all.
Her babes all stood to attention as they scanned the keep.
Bad things were in the wind.