Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The End
LITTLE ONE
Nate Philbrick
Copyright © 2015 Nate Philbrick
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the brief use of quotations in a book review.
Dedicated to my little one.
Special thanks to all those who encouraged and supported me during this process, and to the Daily Grind for putting up with my presence for hundreds of hours.
To Him be glory.
Chapter One
It was the twenty-fourth of July, a year after the signing of the treaty that put an end to the scathing War of the Mountains, and little Litty was hungry. She tugged on Daniel’s finger and informed him of this, and her voice, weakened to little more than a whisper by the dystonia she had been born with, wiped the scowl that had been on his face like a spell. He gave her hand a squeeze.
“We’re almost there.” He scooped his little sister up in his arms and gave her a quick kiss on the nose before she managed to wiggle out of his grasp.
Litty pulled on his hand with more vigor than he thought possible for a three-year-old. He shook his head at her, a grin on his face. When food called, it called. Eventually, she gave up on getting him to hurry up and pranced on ahead. Her faded pink dress caught the dry summer breeze and flapped around her legs. Her honey-brown hair swept across her face, and with her free hand, she tried in vain to shove it out of the way. Eventually she gave up on that, too.
They headed towards Obenon, or at least what was left of it. The Akorite bombs hadn’t left much of the mining town intact. Daniel made long strides, and Litty scampered to keep up as they made their way down the hill. They traversed the hill every morning, and every morning they would stop at the hilltop, and every time, Daniel would look down at Obenon and remember how it used to be, and remember the people that used to be there.
He gave Litty’s hand a gentle squeeze. “You know what, little one? Pretty soon we’re going to leave this place, and we’re going to go somewhere where the sky is blue, and things will be better. We’ll be happy together.”
Litty stopped in the middle of the path and bent down to pick up a smooth, thumb-sized rock. She lifted it up to show him. “Look.”
“I think that’s the prettiest rock you’ve found yet,” Daniel said, patting her head.
Content with his answer, she put it in her dress pocket, and they resumed their walk. By the time the dirt road led them into town Litty was back in his arms, resting her chin on his shoulder. Walking through Obenon was like walking through a newspaper. Everything was wrapped in dismal shades of gray—from the buildings to the people—accented only by light, sun-depraved skin and dark furrowed brows.
Daniel knew most of the people he saw every day. At least, he knew their names—it was a small town. As they turned onto what used to be Chimney Avenue, the men and women coming and going barely glanced at them. Those that did limited their greeting to a curt nod. Nobody smiled.
Daniel didn’t blame them for their solemnity. He could smile because he had Litty, but everyone lost something during the air raid that destroyed the mining center a year ago. Some had lost their jobs. Those who lived close to the center lost their homes. Everyone lost someone they loved.
As usual, the line of people at the distribution center backed down the length of the road. Very few people still had the means to support themselves. Shortly after the bombing, a team of Preceptors had come over the mountains to take control of the town before people slipped into anarchy. They established a food rationing system, which was the only way Daniel and Litty were able to have a meal each day.
They got in line, and more people filed up behind them. There were usually a good seventy-five people waiting in line each morning. From his position, Daniel could see what used to be the town square—now turned into the Preceptors living establishments—and the crowd that had gathered by a stack of crates in the center. Standing on the crates was the Second Preceptor in charge of the year-long operation in Obenon. Daniel didn’t know her name, but he saw her going about her business nearly every time he and Litty came to get food. This time, she held a megaphone in her hand, and through it she blasted reminders to the people of Obenon to bring any possessions they wished to take with them for packing and storing in the train. Not that anyone would have much to take with them.
When they were close enough to the distribution center to smell the food—tin cans of cold stew and maybe even bread if they were lucky—a commotion caught his ear somewhere down the line behind them. Daniel turned to see a tall, wiry man, well past his prime, shoving his way past people, trying to get closer to the front. Several voices clamored protests, but he ignored them all. Daniel recognized him—Bottle-man Basel. Basel Crow used to be the town drunk, but after the bombing, he ran out of liquor and became the town outcast. He had nobody left to care for and nobody to care for him. There was an empty bottle in his hand—the same bottle he always used to drink from.
Daniel let Litty walk around nearby while the line inched forward. He was used to carrying her for long periods of time, but he took every chance he got to let her run around and enjoy what little there was to enjoy in this place.
A bony hand grabbed his shoulder. He spun around, and came face to face with Basel, who’d found his way this far in the line. “Let me through,” Basel said.
Daniel winced at his breath and took a step back. “We’re all hungry. Wait like the rest of us.”
Basel squinted at him, as though he didn’t understand. “I said let me through.” He tried to sidestep him, but Daniel stuck his shoulder out to block him.
“And I said wait in line like the rest of us,” he replied firmly. People close to them swiveled their heads, curious. Basel glared at him and shifted his grip on the glass bottle in his hand.
Daniel, his face flushing, raised his fists, but before either of them could make another move, a Preceptor rushed down from the front of the line and broke them up. A few townspeople near him tossed him vague comments how he should have just let him through, but none of them bothered to look at him while they did, so he ignored them and focused his attention on Litty.
She was sitting in the road, playing with her new rock, oblivious to the whole situation. Sometimes he envied her freedom. He ran his fingers through his hair. Today was the last day they would have to put up with meager food rations and people willing to fight to be the first to get their hands on half a can of soup. During the air raid a year ago, the railway tunnel that connected Obenon to the world beyond the Untamable Mountains had collapsed, making escape next to impossible. For a whole year, the Order had people on the other side clearing the tunnel, repairing the tracks, and preparing to
evacuate everyone from Obenon. Now the train was here and tomorrow they would leave this life behind.
At last Daniel made it to the line’s end, presented his and Litty’s ration cards, and collected their simple meal, which, to his pleasant surprise, included a small loaf of bread for each of them. The bread days were few and far between, but today felt like a special occasion as it was, and the bread would help them celebrate.
“Come on, Litty,” he called, and she scampered to his side, clutching her rock in her closed fist. He took her other hand. “Tomorrow we’re leaving, you know that?” They walked to a bench in the old park, their usual meal spot. “We’re leaving, and we’re not looking back.”
* * *
The train whistle pierced the quiet of the mountain like a wakeup call, jolting Daniel out of the snooze he hadn’t meant to take. He stretched his back, sitting on the bank of the creek that rippled down the mountain by the old hunting shack he had converted into a home for him and Litty. He shook the sleepiness away from his face and allowed himself a smile. He couldn’t help it. He had been waiting to hear that whistle for a year, and now the time had finally come.
With a tremor of hope in his fingertips he sidled up to Litty, who slept curled up in a bed of leaves under the ash tree by the creek. He roused her from her nap. “It’s time to go, little one. Do you want to go ride on a train?”
She sat up and rubbed her half-open eyes with the backs of her hands, nodding.
The train whistled again.
Litty’s eyes popped open, and she jumped to her feet and darted back into the shack like a mouse into its hole in the wall. A moment later she returned, clutching her only real toy in her hands—a pink stuffed duck that Daniel had bought for her before she was even born.
Daniel planted his hands on his hips and wagged his head at her, amused. “I see you’re packing light.”
She grinned and lifted the stuffed animal like a trophy. “Ducky.”
He patted her head. “You have two minutes to play while I get the rest of our stuff.”
Still clutching Ducky, she scampered off to a stack of pebbles she always kept by the creek. Her hair bounced against the back of her neck as her head bobbed up and down. Her pink lips whispered words that only she could hear and understand. She placed Ducky on the ground beside her, wiped her hands on the faded pink fabric of her dress, and got to work rearranging the rounded stones.
Daniel hurried back into their makeshift home and gathered the few possessions they had to call their own into a travel-worn backpack. There wasn’t much to take—once they reached the other side of the mountains, they would be provided for. The backpack’s contents were mostly just keepsakes: a salvaged picture of their parents, a rolled-up drawing Litty had colored for Daniel with her last crayon before it wore down, and a charred piece of roof shingle, the only remaining memory they had of the house they lived in before the bombing.
He gave the picture of his parents a long look before putting it in the backpack with the rest of the items. He missed them. A lot.
He felt a small hand on his leg, and looked down to see Litty staring up at him with big, unblinking eyes. “Danny,” she whispered.
He cupped her cheek with his hand, a sad smile on his face. “Your voice would have been beautiful, little one.” He gently pressed her button nose with his fingertip. “Just like the rest of you.”
Her cheeks dimpled as she grinned.
He bent down and kissed the top of her head. “As long as I have you,” he said, “Any life is good enough, really.” He shouldered the backpack, took her hand in his, and walked out the door.
“It’s time,” Daniel said. “Say goodbye to home.” He looked around. For the past year, home had been this little corner of the valley, one of the few places untouched by the bombing.
Litty silently waved her hand goodbye. He studied her face. She was happy as always, but also confused. She couldn’t possibly understand what was happening or where they were going. This was all she had ever known. She didn’t remember life before the bombing.
“Bye-bye,” she said.
He echoed her simple statement in his mind. It didn’t sadden him to leave, because it harbored more bad memories than good. But at the same time, he had grown fond of it. It wasn’t easy to turn his back on the shack, the ash tree, and the creek—but he did.
He scooped up Litty in his arms and began the trek up the hill. “Hang on tight to Ducky.”
Litty’s miniature fists clenched shut around the stuffed duck’s neck. She would never let go. As he walked, Litty began to bounce up and down in his arms. Again, her lips mouthed silent words to a tuneless song that only she would ever know. Now and then she would make a face to get him to laugh, or stick her tongue out at him, but for the most part, she stared over his shoulder in quiet contentment.
Before long, they crested the hill and, standing at the top, overlooked another dip in the land in which the town of Obenon had been built. The town was dark and gray in contrast to the forest’s fall colors.
“Almost there.”
The streets of Obenon were just like they were every day—bleak, grey, lifeless.
Most of the buildings hadn’t been touched since the explosions, and they remained charred, broken, and crumbling. Much like the people. This time, however, there was an excited murmur in the air. The townsfolk didn’t look quite so hopeless. The train was here, and it was going to take them to a new life, a better life. For a year they had waited to be evacuated. The air was polluted because of the explosions. People were getting sick. But helicopters couldn’t ever land in the rough terrain, and no roads penetrated the mountains that surrounded the valley. The only way in and out was a single tunnel and the train that used to run through it every week until the bombing caved the tunnel in.
Since then, the people of Obenon had been waiting while Preceptors from across the mountains dug out the rubble, fixed the track and reinforced the tunnel’s structure. Now that was finished, and the train was there for one final departure.
By the time they reached the train station, most of the townsfolk were already there, milling around in small groups, talking excitedly to each other, jostling suitcases and bags around. A line was being formed, and at the front of it people were already being herded onto the train. Several Preceptors stood at the front of the line, shouting directions. Not far from the station, the tunnel gaped open like a throat leading into the mountain. Beyond that tunnel, Daniel could only imagine.
The train itself was an imposing machine. Clearly designed for military purposes, it looked like a steel and iron caterpillar, with its armored sides and thick, sliding doors. He wondered why the Preceptors had brought such a tank when its mission was a simple evacuation, but decided not to give it any more thought.
He stopped and lowered Litty to the ground. “You’re getting heavy, little one. Can you walk for a little bit?”
Litty nodded and bounced on her toes, still holding Ducky tightly in her arms.
“Here, hold my hand.” She put her little hand into his big one. He smiled. “It’s finally happening. We’re leaving. We’re going to get a new home, warm clothes, good food…We should get in line. Maybe we’ll get to sit by a window.”
The line moved slowly as people boarded the train. Daniel looked at their faces. Most of them were excited. Some of the younger ones, like Litty, were confused. Older faces were etched with memories, regrets, and sadness. But all of them shared one common emotion—hope. The hope for a better life.
Daniel gripped Litty’s hand. The last thing he needed in this bustling crowd was for her to wander off again.
Finally, they were near the front of the line. Behind them, only a few stragglers remained. They were the last people to board the train before Obenon would be abandoned for good. As he pulled Litty alongside him up to the open train door, he overheard two of the low-ranked Preceptors supervising the process talking to each other.
“Running smoothly,” one of them was saying. �
��Let’s get the last of them inside and get out of here. It smells like vomit.”
His companion nodded. “Wrecking crew’s ready to go. They—”
Daniel stopped and couldn’t help interrupting. “Wrecking crew?”
The Preceptors glanced up at him. Litty tugged on his hand, but he ignored her. “Why is there a wrecking crew?”
They looked at each other, and one of them answered, “Government wants the whole valley sealed off once we’re gone. They’ll collapse the tunnel. No one gets in or out. It’s too contaminated.”
Daniel nodded slowly. It made sense. No one wanted to live here anymore. Soon, no one would be able to live here even if they did want to. The explosions had destroyed the town, and now the contamination from the destroyed mining operation was killing the valley.
He picked up Litty again, and hustled up the steps into the train. As the last people filed in behind him, he quickly searched for an empty seat beside one of the small windows. Litty squirmed in his arms.
“Hold on,” he said. “We’ll sit down soon.”
“Ducky,” she whispered.
He walked down the length of the train, still looking for a spot. Litty kept squirming. Seeing how crowded it was, he turned around to go back the opposite direction. As he did, he bumped into a larger fellow with sandy-red hair who stood just behind him. He nearly dropped Litty, but managed to keep his balance. He excused himself and shuffled past.
Shortly after, Daniel spotted an empty seat a couple of rows down, and hurried to claim it before somebody else did. It was perfectly situated by the glass windows, and they could see the whole train station from there. He collapsed into the seat with Litty on his lap. She put her round face close to his and whispered, “Ducky.”
He kissed her nose. “What about Ducky? She’s going to love the train ride, you’ll see.” But then he saw what she meant. Ducky was gone.
Daniel quickly looked around on the ground and under the seat. Ducky was nowhere in sight. “Litty! I told you to hang onto her.”
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