Subject Nightingale 1: Birth and Death

by Tim Cody

It felt like it was pretty packed, so she opened it up to look inside: half a loaf of packaged bread, bottles and jars a quarter-filled with condiments and spreads, silverware, a mostly intact glass plate and other kitchen supplies, even a nearly empty shampoo bottle.

  “Wow, you really did hit the jackpot!” Whisper exclaimed upon seeing all the items.

  “You found all this stuff over there?” Nightingale asked, looking between its contents and Elise.

  “Yep! We share everything evenly, but the bag, water bottle, and clothes are yours—so keep an eye on them, alright?”

  “Roger!” Nightingale nodded excitedly and zipped up the bag, then slung it over her shoulders. She was already feeling better about her situation now that she had a bag of food on her back.

  “How'd you two make out?” Elise asked next, looking over the bag of clothes, and the outfit Nightingale was holding.

  “We found a bunch of clothes!” Whisper showed her sister the open bag. “We even found some winter stuff!”

  “Wow, a whole bag?” Elise's eyes went a little wide. “Well, we've only got a few minutes left—pack it all up so we can get going, we'll look it over when we get back home.” She looked at Nightingale. “Do you wanna change before we go? You can just leave your dirty clothes here.”

  “Change out here?” Nightingale frowned and looked around the area.

  “Sure, there's nobody around—just be quick.” She turned her back to give her some privacy, kneeling beside Whisper to help pack the clothes into their backpacks.

  Nightingale looked around for a moment longer; the place did look rather abandoned... She dropped her backpack and slipped out of her bloodstained white outfit, and quickly into the clothes they had found. The jeans and T-shirt were a perfect fit, and she was already feeling more comfortable. She smiled and looked down at herself, touching the butterfly design on the side of her shirt.

  “How's it look?” she asked.

  Elise glanced over her shoulder, and then she and Whisper stood once they were finished packing everything up. “Good! You look like a real girl, now, not like an escaped mental patient!” Elise laughed.

  “That shirt's so cute!” Whisper said. “Don't ruin it! I wanna wear it when I'm as big as you, okay?”

  Nightingale smiled, and laughed for the first time. She nodded and grabbed her backpack. “Sure thing—as long as you patch up any holes, I'll do my best to keep it nice and safe.”

  “Yeah!” Whisper cheered and grabbed her backpack, and the three of them made their way out of the pit.

  “Phew!” Elise said once they were back on the pavement. A warning siren blared, and Nightingale's eyes widened when the ground began to rumble. “Looks like we made it just in time!”

  The sisters turned to watch the pit, and Nightingale did the same once she noticed where they were looking. As if the ground at the very bottom of the hole was opening up, all the garbage and clutter began to sink. The piles shifted and collapsed on themselves, and soon, they were staring at a massive, empty hole.

  “We almost got swallowed by that thing!?” Nightingale shouted. “Why'd we have to cut it so close!? Why didn't you tell me!?”

  “We did!” Whisper said. “We told you it was gonna be emptied soon—it's emptied every day at six!”

  “It's fine,” Elise said, “we didn't get swallowed. We don't usually come here this late, but we needed to pick up a few extra things.”

  Nightingale sighed and ran her quivering fingers through her hair, suddenly nervous at the thought of being stuck in there at six. The weight of the bag on her back helped to settle her nerves, though—it looked like they had found a lot of good stuff, so she didn't let herself get too stressed out about it. She took in a deep breath, and then exhaled slowly. “Well... I guess you're right. But I hope the water doesn't come from some bottomless pit, too...”

  “It does, but you don't have to worry about falling into this one,” Elise said as they headed away from the pit.

  As they started their trek, the nightingale returned to land on her shoulder. “Where were you during all this, huh?” Nightingale asked it quietly, and reached up to stroke its back gently. She shut her eyes and cringed slightly at a minor pinch in her head—it only lasted for a second.

  She saw the bird soaring high above the pit; she spotted herself and the sisters before it dive-bombed straight down toward an open bag of food. It perched on the edge of the bag and began pecking at a group of maggots devouring the leftovers, quite resourcefully finding its own meal.

  “Yuck,” Nightingale said once she snapped out of it, shaking her head to pull herself completely from the vision. “Birds are gross,” she muttered.

  “Hey, yeah, where'd you find that bird?” The quiet comment reminded Whisper about it.

  “Actually, she found me,” Nightingale answered.

  The bird fluttered off Nightingale's shoulder and landed on Whisper's, and Whisper gasped in surprise. She lifted her hand toward it and it hopped onto her finger, and she lifted it to eye-level. “Wow, I think she likes me!” She was smiling ear to ear. “She's so pretty! Does she have a name?” She stroked the bird's back with her other hand, and it chirped happily.

  Nightingale shook her head. “Not that she's told me.”

  “Well maybe we should think of one for her. What kind of bird is she?”

  “She's a nightingale.”

  “Really!?” Whisper looked up at Nightingale. “Your name is Nightingale, and you have a pet nightingale!? You're totally like a superhero!”

  “Oh! That reminds me, Whisper!” Elise said suddenly, removing her backpack to rummage around inside. She pulled a thin comic book from her bag and passed it to Whisper.

  “Oh man, is that...!?” Whisper shouted excitedly. The bird flew back to Nightingale when she reached for the comic with both hands, snatching it away from her sister and pulling it close to her face. “M-mis... Mister,” she began, sounding out the words, “Mister Co—Mister Coffin, Vol...ume...three!?” Her eyes went wide as saucers and she looked up at Elise. “It is, it's volume three! Can we read this later, Elise!?”

  Elise couldn't help but smile at Whisper's excitement. She nodded and took the comic book, placing it back in her bag for safekeeping. “Sure, we can use it for practice tonight—if you behave for the rest of the day, alright?”

  “Yeah!” Whisper cheered and pumped her fist in celebration. “Oh man, Mister Coffin's so cool! Have you ever read it, Nightingale!?”

  Nightingale just shook her head. She couldn't help but smile, too; Whisper's excitement was pretty infectious.

  “He's the coolest! He goes from city to city with a coffin full of guns, fighting crime!” She proceeded to act out several of her favorite scenes from the comic book as they walked, complete with over-exaggerated hand gestures and unrealistic gun sound effects, which included, but were not limited to, KABOOM! BLAM-O! POW, POW!

  “I've been teaching her to read,” Elise said as Whisper got carried away and began running all over, reenacting a small-scale war in the middle of the street, “but she can get carried away sometimes...”

  Nightingale nodded, but she was still smiling at watching the girl play and have fun. “How long have you two been on the streets?” she asked.

  “Hmm, well...” Elise thought for a moment. “I've been on the streets for seven years... My parents died when I was just a kid. And Whisper was only six when I found her.”

  Nightingale's eyebrows pulled together at Elise's history. “What do you mean you found her? I thought you two were sisters.”

  “We're not related by blood, but we've been together for six years,” Elise explained. “We look out for each other—we're all we've got, so we're family.”

  Nightingale frowned thoughtfully and looked down at her medical kit as she walked. She was suddenly reminded of what Michaela had told her about Glitch squad—about how they were like family. “I think I understand...”

  “She didn't even know her own name when I found her,” Elise sa
id next, keeping her eyes on Whisper as she ran ahead and used a mailbox for cover. “It took her two years to pick the name Whisper—up until then I was just calling her Kid. Or Brat, depending on the circumstances.”

  “Didn't know her own name?” Nightingale said to herself.

  “Whisper!” Elise called out. “We're here!”

  Whisper came running back to the two, out of breath and sweating. She wiped her forehead with the back of her sleeve and panted out, “Well, you get the idea. Mister Coffin is awesome.”

  “You read volume three yet, Whisper?” a middle-aged man with a light southern accent in a particularly loud Hawaiian T-shirt asked. “Mister Coffin dishes it out real good this month!” He sat in a folding chair behind a water pump, feet against the wall to prop it back on two legs. He tapped the brim of his off-white cowboy hat up to see the girls from beneath it, and he held an unlit cigarette between his lips.

  “No spoilers, Daryl!” Whisper immediately shouted, and slapped her hands over her ears. “We just found a copy!”

  Elise retrieved her water bottle from her bag, and motioned for Nightingale to do the same. “Mind filling it up?” she asked.

  Daryl dropped all four chair legs back onto the ground and grabbed the handle for the pump. He waited until Elise had her bottle under the spigot, and began cranking the handle to fill it with the clear water. Once Elise's bottle was full, Nightingale placed hers under, and Daryl filled it as well. “Picked up a new friend, huh?” he asked upon seeing the new girl.

  “Yeah, she'll be sticking with us for a little bit,” Elise answered.

  “Well, you could do worse, kid,” he said to Nightingale. “Elise and Whisper here practically run Baker Street! They know that place inside and out.”

  Elise laughed and zipped her bag back up. “We've just lived there for a while, that's all.”

  Whisper grabbed her stomach with one hand when it began grumbling, and she tugged Elise's hand with her other. “Elise, I'm starving. Let's go home.”

  Elise nodded at Whisper's request. “Thanks for the water, Daryl. We'll see you next time!”

  “Anytime, girls!”

  “Is he in charge of the water?” Nightingale asked quietly as they walked away.

  “Nah, he just likes to pretend he's got a job,” Elise answered.

  Chapter 13

  What's in a Name

  A few blocks down from the water pump, the girls turned onto Baker Street. Nightingale looked up at the tall post bearing the green street sign, and then all around for wherever she thought their home might be set up. The foot traffic was beginning to thin out as the day dragged on; it was evening time, so people were home or heading there—she didn't imagine there was much of a night life in this part of the city. The sun was beginning to set, casting an orange glow over everything in sight, and the tall streetlamps were beginning to flicker on.

  “Is that where you live?” Nightingale asked when she spotted a shantytown constructed on a couple-square-mile plot of grass.

  O'Shea Memorial Park was one of the few places in White Rain Falls that actually had grass—artificial as it may be. The rest of the city, aside from the outskirts of the outer ring, was spoken for by real estate and paved roads. The park was the only safe place to construct free housing, so the denizens took advantage of it, and the police didn't see running them off worth the effort. Single-level shacks had been built out of whatever material the homeless population could find: discarded sheet metal, wooden planks, even entire doors had been repurposed into sturdy walls.

  “Not yet,” Whisper answered. “But we've got a good spot to keep an eye out. So once one of those shacks open up, if we can grab it before someone else, we're in!”

  Nightingale looked at Elise for clarification.

  “It's not often someone moves out, but it does happen. Have you ever heard of hermit crabs?” she asked.

  Nightingale just shook her head.

  “They were these little critters that lived in shells. When they found a bigger shell—a bigger, better home—they crawled out of their smaller shell, and moved into the better one.”

  “How'd you learn about them?” Nightingale asked. She was impressed by Elise's knowledge, and instantly felt smarter for knowing about hermit crabs.

  “Once in a while I'll find a big thick book and read through it,” she answered.

  “Yeah!” Whisper exclaimed. “My sister's wicked smart!”

  Elise grinned and tousled Whisper's hair playfully. “So once one of those shacks becomes available, if we can drop our stuff in and claim it first, we'll have a pretty nice home for the winter.”

  “We can just move in if someone moves out?” Nightingale asked next.

  “Sure,” Elise said. “Nobody really owns them. They were built a long time ago, and people just make repairs or improvements when they need to.”

  Eventually the girls stopped right across the street from the park, their backs to an alleyway.

  “And everyone follows the rules? Nobody tries to force anyone out, or steal someone's shack?”

  “Nah, for the most part we all play nice. Like I said before, there are a few bad apples, but we mostly look out for each other. They're sort of like unwritten rules,” Elise explained.

  “You girls sure are persistent,” an elderly male voice said, and Nightingale looked over her shoulder. An old man and woman sat in a pair of rocking chairs beside a steel drum containing a tall fire. They were set up at the front of the alley, and shared a large wool blanket draped over their lower bodies. “I don't think anyone's ever kept such a close eye on that place.”

  “Mister Grant!” Whisper greeted them with an excited wave. “Got the time?”

  Mister Grant pulled a silver pocket watch out of his chest pocket and flipped it open. “It's just about 6:45 in the PM, miss—isn't it getting close to your bedtime?” he joked.

  “Aw, I got a few more hours!” Whisper replied, and then looked up at Elise. “I'm gonna go get the fire started!” She ran into the alley, to where they had their makeshift home set up.

  Mister Grant pocketed his watch. “If only we had your patience, maybe we'd finally find a couple walls for ourselves.”

  “Oh, dear, no,” his wife chimed in next, her tone upbeat and friendly. “You know I can't stand to be in one place for too long. A new alley every month, now that's what makes life so interesting!”

  Elise chuckled and glanced at Nightingale. “This is Mister and Misses Grant, they just set up here a few weeks ago.”

  “It's nice to meet you,” Nightingale said through a bit of a nervous smile.

  “Why don't you go see if Whisper needs any help?” Elise said to Nightingale as she removed her backpack and unzipped it.

  “Sure.” Nightingale headed into the alley, following Whisper's path.

  “We had a pretty good trip to the pit,” Elise said as she began pulling items out of her bag. “I grabbed a few extra winter hats for you two.”

  Nightingale found Whisper about halfway down the alley, struggling to get a fire started. She was knelt beside a tall, rusty steel drum, repeatedly dragging a matchstick across the pavement.

  “Come on, light!” she muttered, her frustration growing with each failed attempt. “Please!”

  “Is something the matter?” Nightingale asked, kneeling beside her.

  “It won't light!” Whisper looked up at Nightingale, worry plain on her face. “I dropped it in a puddle, I ruined it! Elise is gonna be so mad, we don't have many matches left!”

  “Here, let me try.” Nightingale took the match and dragged it across the ground. When it didn't light she inspected the match head, and saw that most of the flint had been worn away. The entire stick was damp and completely useless. She frowned and looked down at Whisper, who looked rather concerned. “I don't think it'll light.”

  Whisper pouted and sat on the ground. Her worried expression deepened when she looked up and saw Elise coming over, but then her eyes widened in surprise when the match s
uddenly lit.

  Nightingale gasped and jumped to her feet, the entire stick burning. She dropped it into the drum when it burnt her fingertips, and shook the pain out of her hand. “Ow!” She cringed and looked into the barrel, watching as the stick slowly burnt out.

  “You did it!” Whisper said, jumping to her feet along with Nightingale.

  The fire burnt down to a single ember, the matchstick resting atop a pile of dry sticks, logs, and branches. “No, don't go out!” Nightingale said with a frown, and then as if on command, the ember erupted into a mostly contained inferno. She jumped back just in time, grabbing Whisper and yanking her out of the way as well, the flames rocketing a couple feet into the air before settling back down and burning at the rim of the drum.

  “Wow, cool!” Whisper said, wide-eyed and watching the fire, not even a little concerned that it nearly claimed her eyebrows.

  “Wow, yeah, what was that?” Elise asked as she approached the two.

  “Nightingale's awesome at starting fires!” Whisper said.

  “Well that's always a useful skill,” Elise replied.

  Nightingale just smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of her head. Did I do that? she thought. The matchstick was soaked, but she turned it into a fireball.

  “Well, hey,” Elise interrupted her thoughts, “who's hungry?”

  “I'm so hungry!” Whisper raised her hand high. “What's for dinner?”

  “Well, let's see what we've got.” Elise knelt beside a large hut that used the brick wall of the alley for its fourth wall; the other three walls and the roof were formed by a large blue tarp propped up on some tall planks. She pulled the front of the tarp aside, and dragged a cardboard box into the open. “We've got soup, bread, pasta—”

  “Pasta!” Whisper interrupted.

  “Pasta it is!” Elise placed a box of spaghetti aside, then reached back into their hut to grab a pot with one hand, and an oven rack with the other. “Grab the water, Whisper.” She placed the oven rack on the drum and the pot on the rack, and then Whisper grabbed a jug of water from their food box. Elise took the jug and popped the lid off, and filled the pot about halfway.