by Lisa Jade
"There's definitely something in here."
I sign at him. It could just be the others.
He shakes his head.
"That makes about as much sense as the squiggly lines. Look, I reckon it's close by. Don't worry about the boxes right now. We have to hunt that thing down first. "
I resist the urge to pout. If you give me a choice between hunting down a bot in a creepy factory or trying to read a medicine bottle, I know which one I'd choose. But I'm supposed to be stepping outside of my comfort zone, right? Maybe a fight is just what I need.
Brick points down one of the alleyways and signals for me to follow. I keep watch behind us and listen hard for sounds of approach. I'm surprised at how his demeanour changes. Instead of cracking jokes, he's suddenly stern and serious. He walks low now, his launcher raised, his eyes narrowed into the blackness. When he signals me, it's with a swift flick of one finger. He pushes his back up against a shelving rack and waves me near.
"I can see something," he tells me, his voice hushed, "could be a bot. Could be the others. I'm going to check it out. Stay here."
Something deep inside me cries out. Don't leave me here on my own. But I force the feeling back and swallow hard. He gives me a reassuring smile and turns away, leaving me crouched behind the shelves. After a second or two he vanishes into the darkness, and I'm alone.
Something shifts nearby and my heart pounds in my chest. A sudden chill finds its way up my spine and I crouch close to the ground, hoping I’m hidden. I wait for a few moments, and the sound comes again. It's slight, quiet, like a rat creeping around in the darkness. But I've never seen a rat before - they'd be attacked by bots the moment they came into sight. But there are bots that size.
I gulp hard. If it's a bot, it might alert others to our presence. But if it's a rat-sized one, I don't want to have to rely on Brick. I'm a fully-grown human. I might not be as strong or as skilled as the others, but surely I can take out a tiny bot on my own.
I glance at where Brick was just standing, but he's long gone into the darkness. I bite my lip. I shouldn't go off and fight anything - that would be stupid. He left me here because, for whatever reason, he thinks this is safe. Moving now and defying orders would be in direct violation of what I promised to do. So I press my back against the shelves, tense my muscles and wait.
After a few moments, the sound comes again. Closer this time. And suddenly, it doesn't seem so little. I can hear metal on concrete, like robotic limbs clunking across the floor. Every third step is more of a scraping sound, like one of its legs is damaged. It clumsily collides with a unit and something clatters to the floor. I step back, and panic takes hold.
I can't stay here anymore. I lift the launcher high, fearing that I might actually have to use it, and take off into the darkness after Brick.
The blackness swallows me whole just as it did him, and I find myself walking blind. I can hear whispers; the others formulating a plan, no doubt. But I can't tell where it's coming from, and the clunking, scraping noise seems to be following me. It makes its way closer, and from the corner of my eye I see something shift. A gentle hum fills my ears and I spy a tiny red light, turning the corner where I was just standing.
I stumble back, pick an avenue, and follow it. I don't stop to think where the others are, or if I can reach them in time. All I know is that I can't fight something I can barely see. If I face that thing, it's all over for me.
My footsteps echo, as much as I try to tread softly. I wince a little but force myself to keep running. I can't afford to stop. I can feel it following me, hear the steady click of its limbs as it pursues me down the line of shelves. It's far away and I don't know for sure if it can see me, but it can hear something and that's enough to give it purpose. Panic flits through me and I fight to control my breathing. I'm so scared. I'm so, so scared.
Suddenly, I barrel into something solid. It sends me sprawling to the floor, and pins me under its weight. I gasp and kick out, trying to push it off me, but as my foot connects I hear a pained grunt. Brick.
He pushes me behind him and lifts his launcher, swiftly firing at the bot. The pulse hits it hard and wraps it in tentacles, before a white shock of electricity courses through it. The bot moves a little, and then the hum dies down as its systems crash, and it collapses to the floor in a mess of twisted metal and broken circuitry. I shudder at the sight of it. It was in pretty bad condition already - the pulse actually shut it down.
Brick stands up, but I remain sprawled on the floor. My side hurts from being pinned, and my hands are shaking. The others run up behind us, and through the darkness I catch sight of Adam's face. He sees me on the floor, and Brick standing near the broken bot. He frowns.
"What the hell happened?"
Brick bends down and lifts me to my feet, carrying my weight easily with one arm. He brushes me down and touches a hand to my shoulder.
"Sorry," he says, "I thought it was safe over there, but I guess I was wrong. Are you okay? I was a little rough on you."
I try to act nonchalant, giving a dismissive wave of one hand, but inside I'm terrified. It's one thing to see a bot in the open and watch it get stunned. It's another to be alone in the dark, and hearing it coming after you. I can see the look on Adam's face. It's an expression of disdain, of mistrust.
"Are you both okay?" he asks, but it sounds more like demand than a question. I nod and plaster a smile onto my face; but Brick hangs his head.
"Sorry, Boss. I made a bad call."
Adam's eyes narrow a little, like he's considering punching Brick, but he seems to think better of it and shrugs.
"As long as nothing happened. Let's finish searching the rest of the place together. Grab that mine and let's go."
Brick does as he's told immediately, gathering the pulse from the bot’s remains and stowing it in his bag. Sparrow steps up behind me and places a warm hand on my shoulder - I suppose she must be trying to be encouraging, but it doesn't come across that way.
We search the rest of the building as one, and don't stumble across many more bots. I read the label of the drugs in the light and nod furiously, excited by what I'm seeing. It's medicine alright. Not something we have any immediate need for, but it doesn't hurt to stock up. We pack more bottles into our bags and make a mental note of the other things we've found before working our way back onto the streets.
The sun is lower now, and I can feel the heat of the day slowly fading away.
"Time to set up camp for the night," says Adam, "let's clear out a two-wall and start a fire."
I don't understand what he means, but the others set to work immediately. Kicker whips open his rucksack and starts rooting around in it, and Sparrow wanders out of sight and then back again.
"There's a two-wall over here," she tells us, "looks pretty safe."
She leads us to what turns out to be literally two walls, still standing, connected at one corner. The remains of the other two walls are strewn across the floor, exposing us on two sides. Something about the setup doesn't seem right to me and I consider querying it, but Kicker steps up beside me and hands me a box of matches.
"Help me out here, Mouse."
It turns out that his bag is packed full of supplies. He pulls out a small tarp, some matches, a few cans of food and a large, metal pot. I help him light the fire and watch as the flames crackle into life. I hadn't really given any thought to the fact we'd have to sleep out here. I was hoping it would be somewhere secure, but as I look around at the half-structure we're in I can kind of see why they chose it. This way there's enough room to escape should we need to, and the light of the fire is hidden on two sides. There's not much we can do about the smoke, though.
"You guys hungry?" Kicker chuckles, waving a tin of beans over his head. Adam raises a finger to his mouth in a hushing motion.
"Are you trying to get us killed?" he whispers. Kicker shrugs.
"You guys are keeping watch, right?"
Adam rolls his eyes and returns to pacing the
perimeter, launcher raised. Now, as the sun grows lower and lower overhead, I can see him starting to tense. He walks stiffly, no longer confident that he'll see the danger coming. I can see his hands shifting and settling on the trigger of his weapon, his feet touching the ground gingerly before each step. From what I’ve always been told, the city is dangerous in the day, but you can survive if you stay alert. At night, it's a whole new world. You won't see a bot until it's on you. Your best bet is to listen hard, and be ready to attack at any time. I watch him for a moment, and something aches in my throat.
"Mouse."
Kicker elbows me softly in the ribs and I jump a little.
"Sorry. But I had a thought. Since you're new, and I guess because of the whole mute thing, you won't be taking watch at all tonight. So how about you cook us some food instead?"
"She's not your personal slave, Kicker," snaps Sparrow, walking over. She snatches the can from him and scowls. He shrinks back, clearly loathe to upset the second-in-command.
"I-I know that! I was just suggesting..."
I hesitate, chewing on my lip, and then reach up to take the tin from her. She stares blankly for a moment before passing it back, and as I pull open the lid and empty the contents into the pot, she frowns.
"You don't have to do that."
I wave politely and shrug. Kicker's right. If I'm not going to keep watch, then I have to try and make myself useful in other ways. Kicker watches me for a moment, his expression unreadable, before getting up and walking away.
Dinner itself is uncomfortable and unnerving. We sit in the rubble, legs crossed, weapons leaning against our legs so that we can grab them if we need to. We eat from small plastic bowls, and then discard them over the wall once we're done. I don't like the idea of wasting things like that, but I suppose it makes sense. No point carrying things around that we don't need.
But despite the discomfort and the pain of the rubble against my knees, I find myself smiling. There's something about sitting in the ruins around a campfire that's almost comforting to me. It's a far cry from the cold, dark bunkers we have to sleep in back at Fairground. It's like a tiny slice of their home, that warm golden light, only out here in the darkness where it seems that much brighter.
"Boss, come and eat," says Sparrow, climbing to her feet, "I'll take the next watch."
I half expect Adam to scowl and refuse, but to my surprise he nods and lowers his launcher, taking a seat across from me. Kicker passes him a bowl and he tucks in, clearly famished.
"Thanks," he mutters, "so, let's do a check. Is everyone okay? No injuries?"
His tone is nonchalant, casual, but his eyes lock onto mine over the fire. I know what he's really asking me. How badly have I screwed up? How weak have I proven myself to be?
I shrug. In truth, my limbs ache from running and my side hurts from being pinned down by Brick. I've run so much I'm convinced I must stink and I'm thirsty as hell. But I'm okay. Brick grunts beside me, drawing our gaze.
"Hey. You okay?"
Adam leans forward and his eyes sweep the bandages on his chest, but Brick just waves him away.
"Damn, Brick. I should've figured you'd struggle. One day of rest just isn't enough."
"I'm fine," Brick snarls, "just a little tired."
Adam turns to me, but I'm already on it. He doesn't need to tell me. I help Brick up and lead him to the corner, where I prop him up against the wall. He attempts to pull away, but he's clearly in pain. I use a little force and he obeys.
There are a few minutes of silence as I replace his bandages, dumping the bloody ones over the wall. My fingers hover over his wounds, feeling for unusual heat, but I don't feel anything. It looks like he's managed to avoid an infection, at least. I pull out the med pack and give him something for the pain, and as the world finally grows pitch around us, he falls into an uneven sleep. Kicker lies down too, and after a few minutes the sound of his snoring fills the clearing.
Adam remains still, lost in thought, his blank eyes focussed on the crackling flames. The silence is awkward at best, and as the hours stretch on, I start wishing that he would say something - anything - to break it.
"Oi."
Sparrow walks back over, giving Kicker a swift kick in the back. He rolls over and groans.
"What now...?"
"Your turn for watch, moron. Take this."
She passes him her launcher and he sighs heavily, grabbing it with both hands and staggering to his feet. He stretches, his back cracking, and scratches at his head. I resist the urge to smile; Kicker's always struck me as somewhat of a clown, albeit a competent one. He rolls his eyes and takes position, staring into the darkness with his weapon raised.
"How's Brick?" asks Sparrow, taking a seat next to me. Adam gestures towards where he's lying in the corner, a tarp wrapped around him in some small attempt to keep him from the cold.
"At least he'll get some sleep," she mutters, "and speaking of which, you need to get some too, Boss."
"I'm alright."
"Don't play that game with me," she teases, "you're always saying how important rest is. Now get some sleep. And you'd best hurry to it, because you're next on watch."
Adam grumbles a little, but to my surprise he picks up a tarp and pulls it over his shoulders. He shifts away from us and curls up in the rubble, one hand still resting on the trigger of his launcher. I feel a pang of pity - I can't imagine being so wound up that you’re ready to fight even in your dreams. We sit in silence for a while, and before long I can hear quiet, slow breathing coming from his still form.
I take a moment to watch him sleep, monitoring the steady rise and fall of his chest. He's turned away from me so I can't see his face, but he seems somehow peaceful. After a moment, it registers that I haven't seen Adam sleeping for years. I must have been ten when we last slept in the same space.
"Don't worry about him."
I turn to look at Sparrow; she's leaning forward over the flames, smiling down at me. There's something impressive about the sight of her, the fire burning in her eyes, a kindly smile playing on her sharp features. She reaches up and brushes a piece of long, dark hair from her face.
"I know you worry about him," she says, "but don't. I know he can come across a little... hard, but he's in good hands. That idiot would run headfirst into a fight with a mecha if he thought it would help Fairground, but you can trust us to hold him back when we need to."
She smiles softly, and I find myself returning the gesture. I never really knew Sparrow that well - she was just another Scout, and I admit I had her pinned as just another team member. But now, I find myself wondering if perhaps she's the real brains behind the operation. She moves with such certainty, such confidence that I can't help but feel envy and admiration in equal parts.
Sparrow takes a long swig from a bottle of water and then passes it to me. I take a sip and cough. She tosses her head back and laughs, a deep throaty sound that makes me wish I could join in.
"Yeah, sorry. Should've warned you about that. Sometimes I like to slip a little something extra into the supplies."
I simply raise one eyebrow, and then sniff at the bottle. Ugh. Vodka. I pass the bottle back and she takes it with a shrug.
"Not your poison? Oh well. Personally, I find it helps to add a little interest to a long night on watch."
She gulps at it again.
"The hangover's killer, though."
I know on a practical level that drinking out here isn't safe. I know it slows reflexes, depletes your vision, blurs your memory. No part of me thinks this is a good idea. But somehow, the whole thing amuses me to no end. I find myself shaking with silent laughter, which Sparrow soon reciprocates. She loops an arm around my shoulder and pulls me close, so close that I can smell the alcohol on her breath.
"You're a good one, aren't you Mouse?" she chuckles, "I don't know what Adam has against you."
I give a half-hearted shrug, and she lowers the bottle to the floor.
"I'm serious. You have every ri
ght to be out here, Ash. Not being able to talk doesn't limit you at all. I don't know what goes through that idiot's mind sometimes. You're just as capable as anyone else. Well, maybe not us, but with time and practice..."
She winds her fingertips into my hair, wrapping my gentle curls around each digit.
"You could be legend-level, girl."
Blood rushes to my cheeks and I find myself unable to meet her eyes. It's nice to hear that someone thinks I could be at least somewhat useful. Something small flutters in my chest. A hint of pride, a flicker of confidence in an otherwise quiet life.
But then she pushes me away and pushes a tarp into my hand.
"Alright," she croons, "you need to rest up too. "
I shake my head. I don't need sleep. I've spent far too many nights sitting in the Watchtower, staring out over the city. I've spent countless hours up there in the cold, poring over my medical encyclopedias. This shouldn't be any different.
My eyes slide to Adam's sleeping form. He breathes steadily, his body barely moving with each intake of air. His muscled are tensed, his shoulders hunched, like he's ready to fight at any moment. Concern flits through me. I don't know if I can sleep out here.
Sparrow follows my eyes and then pushes the tarp a little closer to me.
"Sleep."
I bite my lip, and her face softens.
"You get used to it, Really, you do. Just try."
Our eyes meet over the campfire and I heave a sigh, then take the tarp. She gives a wry smile and glances back to where Kicker is on watch, pacing slowly around the perimeter.
"We'll call if anything happens."
I nod and stand up. For a moment I catch myself hesitating. I don't want to sleep near Adam. I know he wouldn’t think anything of it, but the idea of him waking and seeing my sleeping face is embarrassing. My eyes slide over towards where Brick is still asleep, in a heap against the wall. That'll do. I curl into a ball near his feet, tucking in my limbs, and pull the tarp over my head.
Chapter Five
"Wake up!"
I open my eyes blearily, but the world has already kicked into action around me. I hear the sound of shots being fired, of mechanical limbs crunching, the sound of Sparrow's repeated warnings. I pull the tarp off my head, my mind too sleepy and slow to keep up with what's going on around me.