by Cindy Combs
"Everyone okay?" Prue asked as she pulled herself off Piper. Three 'yeahs' answered her as they rearranged and huddled close together as more people piled into the ditch.
Blair closed his eyes tight as he partially covered Phoebe with his body and tried to push them as close to the dirt as possible. He shook with fear, his mind frozen from remembering the morning's horror. Prue's delicate hand gently squeezed his shoulder as she draped her arm across his back.
Soon the air was filled with the loud monotone droning of the Roachian ships, drowning out the harsh breathing and an occasional sob from the crowd in the ditch. Blair tried to hold his breath, illogically thinking the Roachians wouldn't bomb them if they couldn't hear him. He then began silently counting, trying to hang on by filling his mind with another task.
After reaching 200, Blair realized the ship noise had faded. By 240, he couldn't hear them anymore. By 300, one of the drivers told everyone they could get up.
Slowly, Blair and the sisters untangled themselves from their pile. The man who had helped them off the truck knelt beside them, trying to see them in the dark. "You kids okay?"
"Yeah, thank you," Blair replied, brushing some dirt off Phoebe.
"Thank you, we're fine," Prue expanded.
"Then let's get you back to the truck. Sooner we get you to Fish Cove, the sooner we can get away from these Roaches!"
Next morning
As the sky grew pink expecting the sun's arrival, Blair and the sisters looked about themselves in amazement. The road the flatbed was on was jam-packed with people in and on every conceivable means of transportation. More people were walking along the shoulders of the road. All were heading for the east coast.
"I didn't know Claria had so many bikes and vehicles," Piper whispered, spotting a land vehicle overflowing with people, pets and baggage.
"I didn't know there were so many people," Blair added, his own blue eyes wide. While the bikes were flowing past the flatbed as it chugged its way through traffic, they were still traveling faster than the people walking. Blair spotted an older woman with a duffel over her shoulder and carrying a large, ornate box in her arms. Walking past her was a woman leading an old horse, three young children clinging to its back.
"Where's everybody going?" asked Phoebe. "Are they going to their Grandmas', too?"
Prue's eyes looked even more worried as she brushed her youngest sister's hair. "No, Phoebs, they're all trying to get away from the bombs."
Piper shuddered as she remembered the nighttime scare, so Blair squeezed her hand. He shot another worried glance at the sky, making sure no more of those gray ships were there. Then he pointed to a man balancing a crate on his handlebars. In the crate was a little dog, wagging its tail in the man's face. He and Piper giggled at the sight.
After the foursome breakfasted on bar cookies, the flatbed entered a small fishing village and resort. The streets were packed with even more people and vehicles pouring in. The flatbed slowed down to a crawl, then finally stopped in the jam. After several minutes, the driver and his friends climbed out of the cab.
"Okay, everyone," the driver shouted. "I don't think we're going anywhere soon. You'll have to hoof it from here."
"Where are we going to go, Prue?" asked Piper as she fearfully looked at the crowds.
Even Prue looked scared as she studied all the people, searching for a route to the boats. Then the man that had helped them the night before appeared by the side of the bed. In the light, Blair realized just how huge the man was, muscles rippling along his arms. "You kids ready to go to the mainland?"
"Yes," Prue replied, "but how do we get to the docks?"
"Come with me. I'll get you on a boat."
The man swung them down to the ground. The driver then appeared, ushering three more kids and a young mother with a baby. "Is that all of them, Bubba?"
The first man did a quick count, then nodded to his friend.
"All right," the driver replied. "I want everyone to hold hands and stay close to either Mr. Skinner or myself. I don't want to lose any of you in this mob."
"Okay," Prue whispered, grabbing Phoebe's hand. "Blair, you hold tight on to Piper's hand. Piper, hold onto mine. Whatever you do, don't let go."
Blair swiftly pulled the satchel's strap over his head and grabbed Piper's hand. They then plunged into the crowd.
Too many people. Blair was pushed and shoved as anxious people larger and heavier than he swirled past him. It was impossible to see anything except bodies. Staying close to Piper was hard as the crowds pulled at them. Yet Blair was too scared to let go of her hand. He feared he'd be lost, never to see light again.
Then a man bumped into him, driving a hard-sided bag into his ribs. Air rushed out of his lungs as he fell to the ground, wincing as huge feet came way too close for comfort. He could barely hear Piper squeal as she struggled to continue holding his hand.
Then a large arm scooped him up and brought him back close to the sisters. "You okay, kid?" asked Mr. Skinner, eyes concerned.
Still gulping air, Blair nodded his head. Mr. Skinner gently tousled his curls and gathered the four in against his huge body. "Let's try to stay closer."
As they pushed farther into the crowds, they could hear voices shouting. As they struggled closer, Blair could hear 'Ten more! Ten more!', 'Another kid!', 'That's all! That's all!'
Finally, the docks came into view. People were being divided into lines, leading onto the various docks and to the boats there. The area before the docks was crammed with more people, all struggling to be next in line. Looking out onto the water, Blair could see one of the fishing boats leave, low in the water from carrying its human load.
Mr. Skinner gently squeezed his shoulder. "Come on, let's get you kids on a boat." He ushered them closer to the sailors dividing up people. Thanks to Mr. Skinner's large size, they were soon close to the docks.
"I can take a few more kids!" one sailor yelled.
"I've got four here!" Mr. Skinner yelled back.
The sailor waved them forward, much to the angry disgust of some of the adults nearby. But Mr. Skinner ignored them as he pushed the children through. By-passing the narrow steps, he lifted first Phoebe and then Piper onto the high dock. Just as he helped Blair on, the sailor yelled, "That's all!"
Seeing the fear on Phoebe's and Piper's faces as they looked down on the stricken Prue, Blair immediately shouted, "NO!" He jumped off, then shoved Prue to the dock.
"Blair..." Prue began sternly.
"No, they need you to get to your Grandma's," Blair replied stubbornly. Mr. Skinner, realizing what was going on, helped Prue into the line. Prue gave her sisters a big group hug, then all three turned to Blair.
"Good luck finding your father, Blair," Piper called, tears beginning to fall.
"Take care of yourself!" Prue ordered, worry deep in her own eyes.
"Bye, Bye, Blair!" Phoebe called out cheerfully. She waved vigorously. "See you on the mainland."
Blair waved back as he swallowed his fear, then allowed Mr. Skinner to usher him away.
"I know, kid," Mr. Skinner softly sympathized, squeezing his shoulder. "But let's get you on another boat."
Twenty minutes of fighting the crowds later, they came upon another sailor shouting, "I can take two more kids!"
Mr. Skinner quickly made a path for Blair to reach the sailor. Blair glanced up at him. "But what about you?"
"Don't worry about me, kid. I'll get on the next boat."
The huge sailor looked down at Blair and pointed. "Okay, last one." He swiftly picked Blair up and set him onto the dock, ignoring the angry protests of others who wanted on.
Blair turned back to wave at his protector. "Thank you, Mr. Skinner! Good Luck!"
"Good luck and God bless, kid." Mr. Skinner waved back, then disappeared into the crowd. Blair felt a tear try to fall. He was alone again.
Two days later
Blair sat curled up next to a gear box. He felt so hot and queasy. When his uncle Michael had
taken him out on the little sail boat, he had thought the waves were fun. After a day of the fishing boat's rocking, Blair just wanted to get on dry land. Everyone was so packed in on the ship, you really couldn't walk around. If you did, someone would take your spot and you'd have to find another place to sit.
He also missed Prue, Piper and Phoebe. None of them had made fun of him like the cranky passengers he was with now. Blair curled tighter, remembering the talk from yesterday.
Day before
"Are we really going to the mainland?" one young girl asked as she climbed on the rail near Blair.
"Yes," replied her mother sadly. "Now get down before you fall off."
"What's the mainland like?" she asked.
"I don't know, honey," the mother answered wearily.
"The mainland is big," explained one man standing against the rail. "It is full of people all running around. Not very friendly people, either."
"That's for sure," stated another woman bitterly. She was dressed in a fine, colorful wrap-around dress. She looked like some of the women Naomi used to call 'east resort riff-raft', yet her self-important manner reminded Blair of some of the council people he'd met. "Those mainlanders are self-righteous scum. Unless you have something they want, they pretty much don't want anything to do with you."
The mother's eyes widened, then she gently pulled her little girl closer. "Surely they will help us now. It isn't our fault the Roachians came."
"I wouldn't count on that. Depends on how hard you work. But then, they have to be willing to give you a job, first."
Blair had been quietly absorbing the conversation. He had sometimes gotten into trouble at Serenity because he would disappear to read instead of helping with the work. His mom and Uncle Michael would just trade that 'look', then smooth things over. Would he get into trouble for reading on the mainland?
The mother looked confused. "But surely there'd be some communes..."
The colorful woman laughed. "There's no communes on the mainland!"
"Yeah," added the man. "Those mainlanders live all separated from each other, like those little resort cabins."
No communes? Lots of people but no communes? "But I need to find my father," Blair blurted out, worried now. "How do you find people on the mainland?"
"Your father!" The colorful woman squealed. "Why on earth would you want to find your father!"
"My Ima..."
"Trust me, little one. Mainland fathers don't want anything to do with their Clarian children!" Then everyone around him laughed.
Even now, the memory of the cruel laughter made him feel sick inside. Was that why he'd never met his father before? Didn't his father want him? Would his father want him now?
"Promise to find him, Honey Bear."
Without thought, he grasped the star medallion. Mom wanted him to find his father. He had promised her to find Jeff MacGregor. He WAS going to find him. Surely Naomi would not have told him where to look if his father wouldn't want him. If his father needed him to work, Blair would be willing to work hard and give up books. He would do anything to have a home again.
"Hey, sweetie." Blair looked up into an old woman's eyes. "You look like you could use some water, little one."
"Thank you," Blair politely responded. He took the bottle and drank the warm water. It tasted kinda yucky, but at least it was water. After a couple of swallows, he handed it back to the woman. She then gave him a piece of a biscuit. In spite of his queasiness, Blair gratefully ate the dried, tough bit.
The oldster gently tipped his head up and smiled at him. "Hang on, sweetie. We should be hitting land soon."
Blair gave her a grateful smile in return. He curled back up and drifted to sleep, feeling a little better.
PART 2: SEARCH
Two days later, Odinland Refugee Center, Southern Province
It seemed like he'd been standing in the food line forever. Blair glanced up into the sky, remembering where his favorite book character, Kid Dooley, would judge the time by the position of the sun. It looked close to midpoint in the sky. Blair thought that meant noon, but he wasn't sure.
Most of his time since arriving on the mainland had been spent in line. Once the fishing boat made landfall, Blair and the rest of the people were herded into a huge area filled with tents. They had been directed to a line where everyone was given a blanket and a metal cup. Then they stood in line for some water to wash up. Then they stood in line for some clean clothes. Then they were herded into another line so their names would be added to some kind of list. By that time Blair had become bored, especially since most of the people in the line were adults. He finally stepped out of line to see what was going on.
He was soon asked to join a group of kids. Blair had thought it was lots of fun racing around the tents until he noticed one of the kids stealing a pillow from an elderly lady. Blair had grabbed the pillow and given it back to the woman. Once he had walked away, the rest of the kids ganged up on him, pushing and yelling at him for spoiling their fun. Blair had stood his ground, pointing out that it was wrong and mean to steal from people, especially the oldsters. One of the bigger kids then punched him in the stomach. Blair had dropped to the ground, wrapping his arms around his painful middle while the rest of the kids walked away, laughing and calling him names. Blair wasn't sure what felt worse, the punch or the abandonment. Then he reminded himself that he had to be good so that his father would want him when he found him.
Spotting the same gang of kids racing past the food line, he ducked behind the large woman in front of him. Once they were gone, Blair moved back away from the lady talking with her mother. Behind him were several teenage girls, for which a boy his age was neither old enough nor young enough to be of interest. Blair stood in between, making himself as small as possible while searching for someone he knew. So far, he hadn't recognized anyone among the swarm of people, not even Mr. Skinner or one of the sisters. Nor had he wanted to make new friends after the incident with the gang. Blair hadn't realized before just how alone one could feel in a crowd.
It was worse at night. While the tents seemed to stretch on forever, there were still more people than space inside. Various adults had laid claim to each tent, dividing it into sections for themselves and their groups. It seemed that most of the refugees were only concerned with taking care of the people they already had, not taking in more. Blair had tried the night before to get into a tent, but was turned away each time. It was hard without an adult to stick up for him. Blair had ended up sleeping next to a rock on the outskirts of the camp, plagued by nightmares of Naomi and Uncle Michael being killed by bombs because he hadn't been good.
Finally, Blair reached the table where aid workers were handing out food. A nice lady in a red and white dress filled his cup and handed him a paper plate with food. The water tasted so good, Blair drank it down before checking out the food. On the plate were two square biscuits-like things and a large green fruit. At least, Blair thought it was a fruit. He ditched the plate in a nearby canister while holding the food in his hands.
Searching for a place to eat, he eventually found himself back at the boulder where he had spent the night. He perched on top of its hard surface and took a large bite out of one of the biscuits. It was hard and chewy, but it was food. Working the bite in his mouth, he surveyed the area. There was still a long line of people waiting for the food table, stretching past the aid station and out of sight in the sea of tents. In an empty space further down was a group of older boys trying to play stickball with a rock and a piece of wood. It looked like fun, but the boys had refused to let smaller kids join them.
Taking a bite from the strange fruit, Blair studied the large fence stretching past his rock, outlining the area where the Clarians were allowed. It didn't seem fair that he would have to stay inside with people he didn't know when his father was somewhere outside. He couldn't keep his promise in the tent city.
Sighing, Blair lightly ran his fingers across the rock's rough surface, letting his thoughts
wander. It was so dull without even a book to read. He really missed his books at home and the school library. Why, he'd probably never find out what happened to Kid Dooley and Cowboy Willie now. He was only half-way through the series set back on the old world. Admittedly, he didn't know what a cow was, but the stories of cowboys, gunslingers, Pony Express Riders, shoot-outs and chases had swiftly become his favorite. Thinking back on the Kid's and Cowboy Willie's adventures, Blair remembered one where the Kid was falsely accused of being a bank robber and was placed in the town jail. Now Blair could truly understand what the Kid had felt being locked up. But the Kid was smart and had gotten himself out of the cell.
Suddenly, Blair smiled to himself. That's what he'd do. He'd stage a jailbreak.
For the rest of the day, Blair made his plans. He tucked the second biscuit into his satchel to eat on his trip. He carefully counted the bills and coins from his mother's change purse, so he'd know how much money he had. Then he casually walked around the perimeter of the camp. Since many others were also walking around for exercise, Blair didn't worry about his plans being discovered.
The fence was more than twice his height and made of chain link. Blair wasn't sure he could climb it, especially with the guards walking along the outside. The only way he could even make an attempt undetected would be at night, when they wouldn't be able to see as far. Then he spotted a new possibility. The fence was split where it went over a large boulder. Pretending to tighten the straps of his sandals, Blair studied it under his arm. There looked to be enough space between the chain link and the rock for someone small to slip through. Hopefully, he was small enough. With a lighter step, Blair finished the circuit around the camp.
Busily thinking of his plans, Blair wasn't paying attention to the people around him. Abruptly, he was grabbed by the arm and practically lifted off the ground. "Well, well, well. What do we have here?" Blair looked up into the face of a tall, dark haired man and instantly froze. Trace Hayburn had been the only one of Naomi's boyfriends that he had hated on sight. So had Uncle Michael. For that matter, Naomi wasn't with him very long, either.
