by L H Whitlock
The clearing below was deceptively peaceful, a mask for what really happened in the old city square. The cobblestone streets had turned green long ago with overgrown moss. What stone did show was stained red from past public displays of corporal punishment. Vines crawled up the buildings, hiding the decaying surface with lush foliage.
Clover sighed with boredom, but remained faithfully at her post. A movement caught her eye. Timber and Cece had arrived at their stations on the rooftop across the clearing from her.
Clover offered them a small wave.
Cece popped her head up to return the gesture. Her olive skin stood out against the dirty white rooftop. Her shaved head was covered in a dirty-brown bandana, the way she always wore it, or at least ever since the guards shaved her head for stealing Letia from the mines. Clover envied Cece’s flawless, exotic skin-tone. It was rare for the villagers to have anything but the pale complexion that came with a life forced underground.
Timber gave her a two-fingered salute. His face and usually tan hair were black with debris from the mine. He pulled on the brown ski mask, concealing his face. Clover followed his lead, taking extra care to tuck her red hair beneath the cap.
Finally, movement below. Three soldiers entered into the clearing, stopping in a circle beneath her perch. The soldiers wore navy cargo pants tucked into black boots and navy shirts covered by thick black vests. Accenting their uniform were fingerless gloves and an armband that announced their position. All three wore a simple black band, the color of a common foot soldier. They stood in a circle laughing beneath her. Sure, they have plenty to laugh about, entitled bastards. An image of her allowing a loogie to drop on the top of their heads flashed before her eyes. Tempting. Unfortunately the satisfying act would get her caught. And they needed this raid; the villagers were short on supplies.
One of the soldiers adjusted his gun, the movement awkward and choppy. Clover would have bet a month’s salary that he was new. I could steal the weapon from him. He wouldn’t even stand a chance. It was tempting, but again, she was the queen of patience.
Wind blew around her. Clover ducked beneath a board, concealing her from the descending spaceship’s view. Dust filled the air. She coughed, the fine grains finding their way into her lungs despite the coverage the ski mask provided. She pulled her mining goggles down over the ski cap. Sure, it may look strange but at least she wouldn’t get dirt in her eyes.
A clank sounded as the ship landed. The soldiers moved to stand next to the door.
Sliding out of her hiding spot, Clover ran, leapt off the roof, and grabbed a bar on the escape ladder to the building adjacent from hers. Her hands gripped onto the sharp, rusty metal. The jagged points dug into her hands despite the protection of her thick, brown gloves. She let herself drop to the next ledge. She twisted her legs as they swung beneath her so they wouldn’t clang against the beams and alert the guards. When she was within a safe landing distance she let go and hit the ground hard. Ignoring her tingling legs, she flattened her body against the concrete wall and peaked around the corner.
Timber and Cece were pressed against a wall in an alleyway opposite from her. The ship in the clearing was a standard supply vessel. Its slate gray, bulky body looked uncomfortably advanced amongst the overgrowth and decay. A series of lights illuminated from around its exterior. It sat on four thin legs—somehow the points managed to hold the ship, though she wasn’t sure how. The back door slid open and a ramp extended from the opening. Two soldiers stepped from the ship.
Five, not the worst odds. Her heart raced but her grip on the slingshot remained steady. She loaded the homemade weapon with a rock, pulled back on the strap, and launched it down a vacant alleyway. The men turned, drew their weapons and ran towards the sound. Once they reached the alley it was Cece’s turn to shine.
Cece purposely kicked some rocks as she ran down a path on the opposite side of the soldiers. The soldiers, having heard the sound, quickly changed their direction. Cece waited until they were in sight of her tall, slim body before fleeing. Always the tease. The soldiers drew their weapons and shot at Cece. Those bastards never do ask questions. Cece was gone before the first bullet struck the concrete building. The men raced after her, leaving only two behind to guard the ship.
Clover pushed down her fear. Cece had been the runner for years. She was damn good and Clover knew her friend would not be caught.
Using the distraction to her advantage, Clover ran behind the ship, loaded her slingshot, and fired. A clang rang through the courtyard as the rock hit the soldier’s helmet. He turned and rushed towards her. Before he could reach her, a loud clang signaled that Timber had enacted his part of the plan and knocked the soldier unconscious. Before the second man could respond, Timber smacked him with a shovel, sending him to join his friend on the wet, mossy ground.
Clover ran to the ship as Timber pulled the swipe card from the soldier’s pocket. He scanned the barcode and the door slid open, a melody to her ears. The clatter of their boots was the only sound as she and Timber looked through the goods.
Timber pushed a sack off one of the many shelves. It landed with a loud thump.
Clover paused, her heart nearly jumping from her chest. “Shush. We need to hurry up,” she reminded her friend.
He looked at her, his face still covered with the ski mask and goggles. Despite the thick cotton, Clover knew he was grinning. “Miz Lori wants some new clothing,” Timber said, his voice muffled by his mask.
“I know, but we can’t spend too much time on that. Food is more important than clothing.” Clover sniffed at the contents in a bottle, wrinkled her nose, and placed it back on the shelf.
“Depends on the clothing.” Timber sliced open a box on the shelf and found a white cotton shirt. He winked at her and shoved the newly found treasure into his burlap bag.
Clover slapped her sack against the air, held it open with one hand, and dropped a bag of grain into it. “What’s your poison?” She asked Timber.
“Diapers. The cloth ones are stiff and worn. I need to start collecting them now, Mina’s pregnant again, you know. You have a birthday coming up… don’t cha?”
Clover scavenged the shelves. A plate slipped from her grasp and shattered against the ground. Holding her breath, she turned to glance at the soldiers. After finding them unconscious she returned to her pillage. She pulled a large box off the metal shelve and sliced it open with her knife. Diapers and milk powder! She greedily shoveled as many as she could into her bag.
“Got the diapers, enough for you and Miz. Trim, too. Yea, I suppose it’s my birthday.” She stuffed another sack of grain into her bag then lifted the burlap to test its weight. She was coming close to her max. Another bag of dried root and a couple cans of fruit and she would be full.
“Spoiler alert: I’m getting you a knife.” Timber held up a switchblade with a black handle.
“You’re too good to me, you know that? I’m full. Let’s get the heavens outta here.”
“Me too.” Timber tied his bag and flung it over his shoulder. Without another word, he took off in a sprint, leapt off the steel ramp, and darted down the alleyway. Clover stayed in step just behind him.
After rounding a corner they rushed across the street and down into another alley. Timber came to a halt, dropped his sack, and bent over to lift the sewer cover off. The lid grinded against the stone as it loosened its grip. The smell of feces and urine wafted through the air, Clover’s stomach lurched in response. No matter how many times they ran this route she would never get used to that smell.
Timber formed an O with his mouth and furrowed his brow. “You know what they say… ladies first.”
Clover rolled her eyes. “What a gentleman.” She tossed her sack in, then lowered her body into the hole. Timber followed. Once inside, Timber cupped his hands and offered it as a step. She accepted and he lifted her up. After checking to make sure the coast was clear she pulled the cover back on.
They were home free.
Abou
t the Author
Lyndsay began her writing adventure when she moved to Colorado with her Fiancé. She has always loved stories and has been an avid reader for most of her life. Her fascination with science and astronomy started in school and only grew as the years went on. Most of her inspiration comes from day to day interactions as well as movies, game’s and articles. When not writing, Lyndsay is playing with her two dogs, Skip and Peaches or running and kick boxing at the gym.
