by Alex Fall
"The Grounded?"
A pause in the conversation caused Fake Arty to glance over and see my look of sarcasm I was casting at him. He nodded in understanding.
"Right...something I should already know about."
"What am I supposed to do, take out the Feeders also?" I mumbled after his comment.
"Also? How many people are you aiming to take out?"
"You ask a lot of questions, you know that?"
Fake Arty scanned my face with a warm smile on his. I was almost certain he would try to comment on how beautiful I was or something, but his conversation shifted to a different gear.
"What kind of music do you like?"
"...what?"
"You heard me."
"I did, but that's not why I asked what."
"Ok that's fine. So what kind of music do you like?"
I shrugged and returned to staring at the pure, clear water. "I don't really like music."
Fake Arty turned his body to face me. "Oh come on now, everyone likes SOME kind of music."
Again, I stared off into space, letting silence be my answer.
He stood and pulled something from his pocket. "Oh no, we have to fix this. I'm going to find something that's you, a type of music that is 'Erin.'"
My hand went to up to rub my temples as my annoyance slightly wakened.
"Digital speakers. These things are awesome, you should get some," said Fake Arty as he set a palm sized round object on the ground. He waved a hand over an unseen scanner, which lit up a small holographic interface several centimeters off of its side. A couple of inputs later and the small rounded object on the ground secured itself and opened up a little along seams around its outside. The middle part raised a centimeter or so out of the middle, and some small green lights activated inside of it. A stylized hologram filled the air above it, something that resembled a speaker but looked more like art. Facets of the hologram served as readouts for the volume, equalizer, track info, and other aspects of musical data. Though small, the device seemed extremely foreign to the setting we found ourselves in.
"Do you like...rap?"
One the most hideous songs I could have conjured up began to play.
"*Cuss* no, turn that off!"
"Alright, no need to cuss. How about something dancy?"
Some electronic song began to play, a little more clubby sounding than others. It reminded me of something the Grounded used to play in the club we stayed at.
"It's tolerable. I don't like dancing."
"Ok. Let's see...old school?"
The songs cycled out, some playing more heavy beats, some more light and melodic.
"Any of those stand out?"
"Not particularly..."
"Gah, Erin you're going to wake up soon. I'm going to find a song you like though!"
"You can try. You won't succeed," I said as I found a grassy patch to lay out on. I closed my eyes and basked in the sunlight as it found its way through the trees. Fake Arty kept cycling through songs, searching for one that caught my ear. He kept on until I woke up. In the end, he never found a song that could be described as 'Erin.'
The real world. Dull, cold, and boring. I miss the feel of the sun on my skin. I've been stuck in these tunnels for nearing two weeks, and I'm tired of the sights and smells down here. Sitting up, I examined the tiny area called "a room" that I was assigned. Pretty much, it was my bed, a small dresser nightstand, and Sharon taking up the entire amount of floorspace with her pile of blankets and pillows she somehow amassed. Nothing changed since yesterday, so that's good at least.
My stomach formed a pit, a strong reminder that it wanted food. I groaned slightly and fell back in bed. On top of hunger, my body was a little sore from training the day before, especially my stomach and leg. All I wanted to do was go back to sleep, but after lying there for about forty five minutes, I saw that it wasn't going to happen, not without sleep meds.
Despite the fatigue, I roused myself out of bed and began my morning routine. Stretching. Training. Taking care of me. Taking care of Sharon. The days dragged on like such, becoming monotonous and meaningless. I hate this system that I've found myself in...
Eating was tricky. While Sharon was afforded meals, the guards made sure that not only was I denied food, I was denied access to any place that served food, even drink bars. The only thing I had going for me was that I had won over a guard named Andrè for beating down Marius. He was so impressed that every day, he would sneak me a meal. I had to pinch some of Sharon's food and ration out my meal from Andrè to make it the most efficient. The problem was, I was burning off more than what one meal provided.
Wiping some hair away that had fallen out of the band and in my face, I wrapped up my training exercises. My fingers tingled from practicing point strikes and honing my accuracy and my stomach began to hurt from hunger. I gathered my few things, handed Sharon my pack and headed back to my room. In the hall, I smelled a trace of tobacco. Not just any tobacco though, this was from cigar smoke.
Turning down a darker tunnel, I pulled Sharon aside and hushed her. The sound of Rod's voice tickled at my ears. He was talking business with someone.
"Hey, what do you think you're doing?" Asked the pest known as one of my guards.
"Whatever I want and feel like doing," I spat.
The guard (all of whom were warned to wear some form of armor when around me) approached. "You always go back to your room after training. What are you doing that makes it different today?"
"Hello Rod," I said to the air.
"You can't trick me," said the guard.
"She's not trying to trick you." At the sound of his voice, the ganger spun around and stepped back. Rod held up a hand to dismiss him. "What do you want, Sapphire Eyes? Make it quick..."
"A charger for a GPS."
Rob smirked. "Oh is that all? Request denied, now go back to your room." With that, he continued down the hall with several men following behind him. A few sneered, the rest ignored me. I pocketed a pistol, filched from one of those that refused to acknowledge my presence. They won't notice it's missing for quite a while.
Once back in the room, another wave of hunger hit me, this time mixed with a taste for sleep medicine. I opened my bottle and cussed under my breath when I saw how low my stock was getting.
"Why do you cuss so much?" Sharon said, though nervously.
Did that really just come out of her mouth? "What are you, my dreams?" I retaliated.
Sharon looked up at me with a puzzled face. "What?"
"Nothing...and since when does it bother you what I do or say?"
Sharon looked to the ground. "Since you started taking care of me..."
I'm not this girl's caretaker. "Well, it shouldn't."
"Did you lose someone close to you?"
"...what?" Her persistent questioning was beginning to bug me.
Sharon shrugged. "My daddy told me once that sometimes people get angry when they lose someone close. I just kinda thought that was....why you were..."
"It's called bitter. And no that's not why." I laid on my bed and rubbed my face to help the hunger go away.
"Oh...then why do you cry at night?"
My eyes popped open. "I do what?"
She seemed to go defensive. "It's not every night! And it hasn't happened as much lately. But sometimes...I hear you make noises, or cry...I guess."
What? I don't... Do I? Arty and Elly never mentioned me doing that. I never show weakness in front of other people! And what is this kid doing, watching me while I sleep?
"Sapphire eyes?"
I broke my thoughts and acknowledged Sharon by tilting my head just enough for her to see me shift.
"...is that your real name?"
"No."
"Why don't you use your real name?" Sharon's voice was so innocent. How does a child like her exist in such a horrid world?
"I don't remember my real name."
Silence filled the room until Sharon's inevitable question came. "How c
ome you don't remember your name?"
I sat up in bed. "Because starting when I was a little girl, I was hurt, tortured, and experimented on until I forgot! That's why I have nightmares, that's why I make noise when I sleep!"
Sharon seemed disquieted at my answer. Did I say something wrong? That's the truth, isn't it?
"Either way...my name is Erin."
"I thought you said you didn't remember your name," she asked, timid again.
"I don't. That's the name that was given to me... You can call me Erin if you want."
Again there was silence. Again, Sharon found another question. "Was this from torture?"
I looked over to see her tracing with her finger a spot on her cheek and jawline that mirrored a scar on my face. "Yes, sort of."
She looked away before asking her next question. "Are the people that did that to you...are they still around?"
Oh, that's why she's quiet. She thinks this could happen to her. "No, the people that did this aren't around anymore. Besides, it happened in a far away place."
"Where are you from?" She continued after a moment.
I sighed, my annoyance growing. "Why are you asking me so many questions?"
"Cause...my daddy said that's how you get to know people."
"Well if your dad's so smart, why's he dead?"
Sharon fell completely silent. Seconds later, she was not only looking at the ground, but she had also turned around and buried herself in blankets. I laid back on my bed, cussing at myself for crossing that line, but at least it silenced the questions. I wanted to take a nap until lunchtime, but the silence I so craved was tainted by Sharon's presence. It was a false silence because of her, as if the sounds of her crying and saying 'I hate you Sapphire Eyes' echoed in it. Why does this kid want to know me? Since when has anyone cared? And why does it bother me so much if this child is pouting or not? I hate how soft I've gotten...
"Look, I don't have any parents either. I know better than anyone what it feels like to miss people," I said, breaking the heavy silence between me and Sharon.
She stayed curled in her pile of blankets and pillows, pulling the covers closer to her head to escape my view.
Again I let out a sigh to stifle annoyance. "Sharon why do you want to get to know me?"
Silence. I can't stand when she's like this. Using her own tactic against her (partly because of me losing patience), I let that be the last question to float in the air. After several minutes, Sharon mumbled something.
"Speak up."
"I've never had a sister..." She said in a hush.
My reply would have been critically sarcastic if I had the energy to make a snappy comeback. Instead, I remained quiet until choosing an appropriate answer. "What do you mean?"
Sharon still refused to face me, but she pulled her head of her blanket cocoon and played with her fingers as she figured out how to word her statement. "I don't have a mom and dad...and I never had a sister."
I was hoping her statement would be more informative than that for as long as she took to say anything. "How does that involve me?"
She shrugged. "I don't have a family anymore."
"So I'm supposed to be your family?" I said with a dismissive expression.
"I guess..." She replied, voice trailing off.
My mind worked to process the statement, and while it did, my mouth let out a quick "hm." I'm no mother. I was never meant to raise children, and I'm not good with them besides. And sister? I'm not good at that either. In fact, I don't really belong with a family. I don't really belong anywhere. Is Sharon really that desperate?
"I've never had a sister either," I began. "Not one that I remember anyway. And I've never planned on getting one, so you'll have to forgive me if I don't act...ideal, okay?"
Sharon nodded slightly while facing the wall. The silence still seemed tainted, so I dug through my pack and pulled out the laptop. It's the first time I've turned it on in a while, so the battery life was still decent. Setting it down by Sharon, I stated, "It probably gets boring for you, so you can play around on the laptop. There's no broadband though. And the charger is in the pack."
Sharon finally turned around. Without words, she checked to see if I was serious, then cautiously took the computer. Before long, she found a game to play.
"Keep the volume down. I'm trying to rest until I can eat..."
Through the course of the day, I heard commotion pick up in the fight hall. Looking for a way to spend my time, I donned a hooded coat and ventured down there to silently watch from the safety of the crowd. Guards nearby still eyed me, but were preoccupied with other things, like keeping the rowdy crowd in check. This is the most people I have ever seen in one place since I've been in Lenburg. Heavy music boomed in the room, the smell of sweat, alcoholic beverages, and scents of the overworld wafted through the air, the fairly full crowd (both Greaters and Lessers interestingly enough) watched intently as two tired fighters struggled in the ring. The fighters, one a Brute and the other a Tank, wrestled on the mat until the two split apart and stood with distance between them.
The tank...
Rod informed me in his snippy manner that that the winner of this fight was scheduled to be my opponent. Based on the look of things, it seemed the winner would be the Tank. I watched intently, eyeing details of his style. Scanning. Absorbing. How he punched, how he weaved out of harm's way, how he watched his opponent, all of it was imprinting on my mind. While the people around me clung to the edge of their seats at the progression of the fight, I remained conspicuously detached. The blast of an air horn ripped through the hall, signaling the end of the fight. Somehow, the tank slipped around the Brute's defense and hit him in a tender spot, leaving the Brute open. The next blow left him sprawled on the ground, not moving enough to get back up within the countdown.
The Tank has strength. His raw power added much to his simple but well developed, self taught style. Clearly he is used to taking a beating if he fights brutes and lasts this long. Besides any natural cushioning from his power, I would have to beat past his hardened muscles. My mind shifted, documenting any weak points I detected in his style and build. This would be my opponent, so I needed to learn as much as I could about him.
"Winner! Blanch Dubois!" Shouted the referee.
The crowd applauded, congratulating the "show" and rushing to claim their bets. While the buzz picked up among everyone around me, I stayed focused on one thing. Blanch Dubois.
My enemy.
* * *
An interesting beat of drums, paired with heavy harmonics (I'm guessing it was a guitar) and bass filled in as background noise, emanating from Fake Arty's digital speakers. It was an older style of music, one that used actual instruments. We were sitting together in a meadow swathed in wildflowers and edged by trees. Floral fragrances dominated the air. Not too far in front of us was a small dirt ledge that dropped off into a large pond. Bees worked nearby on nectar filled blossoms, unconcerned with us so long as we did not disturb them. I've been told that they can sting if agitated...
"What do you think of this one?" He asked.
"Sounds angry," I replied while watching a bee crawl on a small purple flower.
"Does that mean you like it?"
"Can't decide. I'm leaning towards no."
"Okay...well, moving on then." The figment switched tracks several more times while I basked in the warmth of the sun. Though slightly chilly, the scenery and sunlight were relaxing, a feeling I rarely get to enjoy. After a minute or two, Fake Arty even stopped the music, adding to the soothing effect of my dream.
"Erin? Something I meant to ask you, do you remember your parents?" He asked in all seriousness.
I opened my eyes halfway out of surprise, but stared at the wispy clouds as I searched my memory banks. "What kind of question is that?"
"Is that a no?"
I didn't want to admit that, but sadly, it was true. "No, I don't remember them."
"May I?" Fake Arty was holding a hand out. I think
he wanted to pull a memory from my head.
"You won't find anything."
"Please?"
Sighing, I sat up and stroked my hair out of the way. Fake Arty moved to sit in front of me, face to face. His hand gently slipped behind my hair and cradled my head. His hand was warm...but no memories flashed up.
"If you're doing this just to hold me, I swear I'm going to break you until I wake up," I warned.
He smiled at my comment. "Consider me warned. I haven't found anything yet. Can you tell me anything about when you were little? It might help speed up the search."
I shot him a look of doubt, but complied nonetheless. This is absurd...
"I don't remember that much. There was a place on the way home that always had plants around the house, even though it was the city. I remember pink flowers. I remember being abducted. I think I went to a store for something that day...this feels ridiculous."
"No, don't stop. Keep trying to remember."
With a snort, I continued speaking. "I remember a checkered tablecloth in our house. I remember my room was green, and I had....a plush toy bird..."
How embarrassing. I can't believe I remember that. I saw Fake Arty hide a laugh.
"Shut up!"
"Ok, I'm sorry." He cleared his throat and reset his face so that he wouldn't be a smiling distraction. "Continue."
His hand still cradling me gently, I resumed my memories, trying to ignore the awkwardness of being touched on my face. "Um...there was a clock on the wall in the kitchen that always ran slow. My parents always tried to fix-"
A quick flash of a youthful brunette woman whom I knew to actually be middle aged flashed in my mind's eye. As soon as it was brought to the fore, it felt as if I got stabbed through my right eye and into my brain. Colors and stars overtook my vision and then all was blacked out.
Sitting up, I drew a sharp breath. I was now awake, in the tiny, dark room that was part of the Feeders hub. My head throbbed where the pain was just seconds ago, but I wasn't in any pain now. Sharon rolled over and let out a breath slowly, still asleep. It was two forty two in the morning. I've only been asleep an hour and fifty minutes?!
And furthermore, was that woman....my mother? Why did I wake up? Why did it hurt when I saw her? And how did that Fake know he could find that memory? Though drowsiness was quickly building up, I snatched the bottle of sleep pills. After taking several, I laid back down. Whatever else I would have done when I wake up today, it will have to wait until I get some answers....
