by DC Little
His pursuer, the grimy Mulroney, stood on the far roof, hands on his head and an angry scowl on his lips. The ten-foot distance between the buildings was more than enough to deter the older man. “Orion! Blast it, boy! Give my old bones a break. Your Old Man called for ya!”
He’s not my Old Man. Orion squeezed his fists and sucked in a deep breath. “Tell him to come get me himself!” he shouted.
He wasn’t about to go cowering back to the man who let him down time after time after time. If it wasn’t for his mom and little sister, he would have left years ago. He would have left to avenge his Dad, regardless of the orders to stay in the city.
He hated that the Old Man had taken his mom as his woman. That hate only increased as his sister grew up calling him Dad. His mom preached gratitude and acceptance. She had cried when telling him they had to accept that his dad wasn’t returning...that he had gone to the Other Side.
As much as he tried to believe his dad was dead, some part of him, maybe a childish part, hoped he still lived. The Old Man could be wrong. Hate brewed within him, building the inferno to a point beyond reasonable thought.
Orion stood up, glaring at Mulroney, daring him to make a move. He would not allow the Old Man to bully him into going home. The Old Man had ruined whatever trust Orion had in him the last time Orion had caught him in a lie. Orion placed a chunk of concrete in the leather sling he always carried in the waist of his pants and casually started swinging it.
“Come on, don’t play so hard to get.” Mulroney eyed him, a wary, half-crazed look in his eyes. “You know I’ll get lashed if I don’t come back with you.”
Orion spun the sling faster and faster. “You’ll get walloped if you stay. Don’t give me that sob story. How many times have you lashed me yourself, Mulman?” He actually liked the decrepit guy, even gave him a nickname. Mulroney had made him laugh as his back burned from his punishments.
“Cut me a break.” Mulroney held up his hands.
Orion wouldn’t have been as brazen before the guns stopped being easy to access. Now, with ammo running short and gun powder even shorter, they only pulled the guns out for severe situations. That left knives and a few manufactured crossbows. When finding his weapon of choice, Orion had remembered a story his dad had told him—a story about a boy and a giant. That boy took down the giant with only a rock and a sling. Orion would take down any giant that stood in the way of protecting his mother and sister. Including semi-friendly ones.
“Last chance,” Orion sing-songed.
Mulroney’s eyes widened, but he didn’t budge.
“Suit yourself.” Orion let the rock fly, purposely aiming for the half wall in front of the man.
“Geez!” Mulroney covered his face from the bits of rock shrapnel that the flying chunk of concrete had scattered. “Really?”
“Really,” Orion said, already swinging the next chunk of concrete he found on the rooftop. He lobbed this one so it skimmed the guy’s arm. Though he knew it could knock the guy out if not more, he didn’t really want to hurt the Old Man’s officer. Orion only needed Mulroney to leave him alone until he could go back into hiding.
“Have it your way!” Mulroney backed away and limped across the roof to where the rickety ladder barely held to the walls of the crumbling apartment building. Twenty years without maintenance had left the city in shambles.
The ladder groaned with Mulroney’s weight. Orion listened closely, wondering if it would hold long enough for the officer to reach the ground. His own heart always raced when he climbed a ladder slowly losing its grasp on one of the disintegrating buildings.
The man grunted as he hopped to the ground, the barely audible sound deflating the adrenaline racing through Orion’s veins. He dropped his arm, letting the concrete slip from the sling and skitter across the roof. Leaning against the huge appliance, he slid down until his rump plopped firmly on the gravelly roof.
Exhaustion zapped the energy from his limbs as the adrenaline died back. Here, alone on the rooftops, only the sky witnessed his depletion.
How long had it been since his last full night’s sleep? His stomach rumbled. Or a decent meal? During times of hunger, returning to work under the Old Man had seemed tantalizing. The smell of fresh meat and crops taken from the farms the coalition managed teased him, making his mind play tricks. So far, he had held out. Looking down at his thinning body, though, he wondered how much longer his resolve would win.
A soft scrape of gravel snapped his head up, and he leaped into a squat, scanning the roofline for the intruder.
“O?” the sweet voice called out from behind the rooftop entrance. A blond, roughly cut head of hair peeked out.
“Callie,” Orion said as he relaxed his stance but kept his eyes scanning. “You’re not supposed to be up here.”
Callie stepped all the way out, her skinny six-year-old body draped in boy’s clothes. She wiped a hand across her dirty cheek as she cautiously came toward him. “I’m hungry. We’re all hungry.”
Assured that no one could see them, he went to her and slipped an arm around the child’s shoulders. “I know, sweetheart. I’ve got a little for you, and we’ll get more soon.” He hefted the bag he had stashed behind the air conditioner onto his shoulder. “Come on, let’s get you out of sight.”
“We cut my hair.” Her grubby hand tentatively touched her chopped hair. “Do you like it?”
“Yes, it will keep you safe.” For now. His heart seized as pain shot through his chest. He had to figure a long-term plan. How much longer could he keep them hidden?
The men had already started talking about the missing girls, and security had tightened on the ones still in their service. Orion’s stomach clenched. The thought of what those girls and young women went through made him sick. Nausea soon turned into a crazy, thrumming panic once he thought of his sister. He had until spring to figure something out. His mother held the hope that once Lily turned eighteen, the Old Man would protect her. A nagging suspicion told Orion her hope would die.
Sure, the Old Man might spare Lily from service with low-ranking men, but the adopted daughter of the coalition leader would be a great bargaining chip in the treaties he’d been fighting for between coalitions. Treaties that Orion had ruined. Orion pushed the fear down into the tight ball hidden within him.
He took Callie by the hand and led her back into the dark attic of the library. It hadn’t taken him long to think of the safest place to hide the girls. No one had a use for books anymore. Not that some hadn’t been desperate enough to try eating the pages, but it didn’t help and attempts soon stopped. Occasionally, people would come with wheelbarrows to steal books and burn them for heat, but since they had herded people into the schools that had happened less.
As soon as the door closed behind them, he paused, letting his eyes adjust to the dimness in the dusty room. Shuffling, skittering, and a few gasps of appreciation met them.
“He’s here.”
“O’s here.”
“Did he bring food?”
“Shh. Show some respect.”
Soon their faces appeared from the darkness. Orion let his eyes roam the room. Twelve now. The girls ranged from early twenties to little Callie who was the youngest. There were many more out there...more he needed to save.
The oldest girl, Shiloh, moved away from the crowd to stand before him. The girl had taken it upon herself to lead the others, keeping them calm, quiet, and safe inside. She smoothed her pixie-cut blond hair before grasping her hands together. “We heard a...a commotion. Are you alright?”
“Yeah, just old Mulroney giving me a hard time.” Orion set the bag down in front of her. “It’s not much. I’ll try to get more tomorrow.”
Shiloh clutched the bag to her chest. “We appreciate whatever you bring, O. You could get into a lot of trouble if you’re caught.”
“My fate would be nothing compared to yours.” He looked around the room, sickened at the thought of what would become of these girls if the coalition found t
hem.
“We would endure,” she whispered, her eyes on the surrounding girls.
“You shouldn’t have to. I’m going to find a way. Don’t give up on me.” Orion shoved a hand across his short dark hair, wishing he could work out the idea that seemed always just out of reach.
He knew people lived out in the wilderness. That’s where his dad had died, at the hands of a Defector. He couldn’t trust these girls with them any more than he could with the coalition. He would figure something out, and soon...for these girls, and for Lily. Fire ripped through him. No one would touch his little sister.
Even though his stomach protested, he didn’t take any of the food he had brought for the girls. Instead, he filled himself with the satisfaction of the girls’ murmurs of appreciation as they sucked the grease from the meat off of their fingers. If you didn’t work for the coalition, food was scarce. They controlled the only food coming into the city from coalition owned farms and ranches.
The houses had been ransacked decades ago, and the vermin that had once infiltrated the alleyways had long since been eaten. That meant the only way of getting food was to steal it, something he had become quite skilled at over the years.
The rays of the sunset that filtered in through the air vent slowly dimmed, sending the girls into a huddle. Their clothes were threadbare and most in tatters, but clothing was even harder to come by than food.
His mom had told him before the world had succumbed to the new order, the government had taken care of those who couldn’t care for themselves. Where had the government gone? Had they perished along with most of the others?
As the sun sank behind the buildings and the far coastal mountains, it took the warmth with it. Soon winter would cover them in a dense fog that chilled to the bones. From his own pack, Orion took out a treasured old soup can and one of his last candles. Another short-term solution, but better than nothing.
Placing the stub of a candle down into the can, he pulled the fire starter the Old Man had given him before he went rogue from his pocket. He scratched some magnesium onto the candle wick, and then swiftly swept the metal stick along the rod. After a few rapid stokes, the magnesium lit long enough for the wick to blaze. He wished he had another fires tarter to give the girls, but they were scarce these days.
He looked up at Shiloh’s candle-lit face, eerie and haunting. “It won’t last all night, but it should give off a little heat. I’ll try to collect some tinder and sticks. We need to prepare for the cold months.”
“We have the books…” Her words, soft and hesitant, sent his chest aching.
He sighed. “If it comes down to that, use the tax laws and political books first. You remember how to spell those?”
“T A X. You have taught me well, O. I teach the words to the others when there is enough light to see them.”
Orion nodded. The leaders of the coalition had no use for books, so most children did not know how to read. His father had told his mother that he needed to know, so she had taught him...at least until she turned traitor and moved in with the Old Man himself. Then he took on Orion’s education...spanning a vast network of lessons, many of which made him sick to his stomach.
He hung his head. As hard as he tried, judging his mom came too easy. What other choice did she have? Her husband pronounced dead, a rowdy and disturbed five-year-old, and a baby on the way...she would have had to go into service without the Old Man’s protection. That never boded well for the kids, and with being close to term or with an infant...a shiver coursed through him.
Time to move.
Darkness edged the air vent. Orion took one last lingering look at the dozen girls huddled together for warmth. “Time for me to go. I’ll try to bring more back tomorrow.”
“Thank you, O. I can start helping to find food. I have a few ideas.” Shiloh watched him, her eyes dark in shadow and her lap full of little Callie snuggled against her for warmth.
“We’ll talk about it tomorrow.” He gave her his best smile, wondering if it looked as haunted as it felt in the candlelight. “Don’t forget the contingency plan, just in case.”
“I’ll remember,” she said with a serious nod "Be careful out there.”
“Of course,” he said. On his way out, he stopped to say a kind word or give a reassuring pat to the girls.
Silently, he worked his way through the attic toward the door to the roof. For several seconds, he waited, listening, ensuring that no one would see him leave. Giving the girls’ position away was not an option.
Once certain no one roamed the roof, and with a glance back at the dim light, he slid the door open soundlessly and stepped out under the starlight. The roof gave him a sense of protection, and he half desired to stay hidden high. Besides, with the stars shining down on him, he felt the safest.
Glancing into the southern night sky, he found the telltale three stars marking out Orion’s Belt. His namesake shone down, a mighty club in hand, hunter, protector. It was on nights like this that he could keep the hope his dad was still alive somewhere, looking at this same constellation, sending him courage and strength. His dad had named him after a mighty warrior, and that was what he would become.
Tomorrow, he would steal away to the outskirts of town until he found some creature to kill. He would get the girls some meat, enough for them to dry to keep them through the hard winter. Maybe some pelts, too.
The risk of leaving the city limits was worse than stealing food, but they needed more than he could steal, and the men were becoming wary.
Tearing his eyes away from his namesake, he took off at a run, enjoying the chill of the night air and the moonlight that lit his path. The freedom of free running, as the man who taught him called the act of running, leaping, rolling in one constant state of motion, made his heart soar. While free running, he left his worries behind, somewhere in a place that no longer filled him with the weight of grief and responsibility.
He leaped off the roof, his hands landing ten feet across on the next ledge, propelling his body forward as he ducked and rolled back up to his feet, still running. A surge of joy fueled him as he ran through the city, reaching his mother’s home too soon.
Orion paused, hanging on the ledge of the window to his sister’s room, catching his breath. The drawn shades allowed no light to escape. Calming his heart long enough so he could hear beyond its pulse, he listened intently. A tickling sense of danger squeezed his heart, but he had to see his sister. Surely, the feeling was only the residual niggling of apprehension from his interaction with Mulroney.
The Old Man never went into his sister’s room.
Slowly, he pushed the window open bit by bit, listening in between movements. An eerie silence filled the room. Maybe she hadn’t come to bed yet. He may have to wait for her. Then he heard the faint whisper of her sleeping breath.
Slipping into the room, he stood before the window, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness. His uneasiness grew, rushing into him as he heard the repeated sound of a device only one man had access to—the click, slide, click of a lighter.
The light flickered, bringing the room into a soft glow and lighting the face of the one man he didn’t want to see.
Meyers.
CHAPTER TWO
>>>—MERCY—<<<
It happened again.
Mercy adjusted her position on her favorite rock, which hung above the river, out of sight of camp. The more the sun dipped toward winter, the more these impetuous sensations stole her breath, refusing to be ignored. The swift blast of emotions left her reeling, wanting to flee.
Escape wasn’t possible. The persistent stirrings that left her heart racing, and her mind searching for something she couldn’t quite find, always returned.
Trying a fresh approach, she relaxed into that sensation, feeling the vibration, the excitement, the sparks of fear. Then she heard it.
The same pulsing sound she had heard for as long as she could remember, like a heartbeat, steady, rhythmic, but not her own.
&
nbsp; Tucker had taught her not to fight this, but she always did. Maybe it was time to give in to the constant tug. A growl of frustration tore through her. She didn’t want the gift of prophecy the Creator had given her brother. She had enough to deal with on her own. Would it go away if she finally met it head on? Maybe it was only the one thing...one premonition or whatever it was.
Breathing deeply, letting everything else fade except the rhythmic sound, she drifted into the pulsing until she felt as soothed as she used to feel as a child in her mother’s arms. She felt almost as if she slept—until a face appeared in front of her. Short dark hair. Striking blue eyes. Familiar eyes. Eyes she had seen since a child as she closed her own at night. They would flash within her mind, gone in a moment, leaving only the memory of the emotion they released.
This time, though, the face attached to the blue eyes appeared so real, tangible and solid. She reached out to touch the illusionary man’s clean shaven cheek, gasping when her fingers contacted actual flesh.
Mercy’s eyes flew open to the bright sun and a shadow standing over her. She scrambled backward until her hand hit only empty air, having reached the end of the boulder she was sitting upon. Rough hands grabbed her before she toppled to the jumbled rocks below, hoisting her back onto the solid granite surface.
“What in the world, Little Sis?” Tucker didn’t let go of her leather shirt.
“Bubba?” She blinked her eyes and looked around. The abrupt ending to her mental travels left her mind disconnected.
Nobody else was there besides her brother, only the granite, the river, and the canyon. Everything was just as it had been when she closed her eyes. Had she fallen asleep and dreamed the image that still left her heart feeling haunted and yearning?
“You almost crawled off the rock.” The seriousness in Tucker’s voice pulled her back to reality.
Yet, the image, the handsome, boyish face, had felt so real. If she closed her eyes, she could still see those striking blue eyes, still feel his heartbeat.
“Thank you,” she said, sitting and smoothing down her new green cloak once Tucker finally let go.
