The Lost Kids: A Young Adult Dystopian Romance

by J. L. Smith

  “That’s why you have those stars tattooed on your arm, isn’t it? Your dad?” I asked softly.

  “Yeah,” he pulled our hands down lightly, still holding mine on the cold earth between us.

  My heart was hammering in my chest, so loudly that I wondered whether he could hear it. For one brave moment, I considered turning to face him and I sensed his own hesitation beside me. Perhaps he was not as sure of himself as he seemed. Or perhaps it was more than that – there was Saffron, after all, and I was still not entirely sure what they meant to each other. Rayder had said they were simply friends, but had that always been the case? Whether I liked it or not, they had a history, something from which I was and always would be excluded.

  His hand still held mine on the sand, but, as if to signal the end of our moment, just then a cayote howled nearby, the sound somber and hungry.

  “We should probably go,” I said, just as he let my hand fall beside his own. “I just want to grab a few things from my room, if anything is even left in there, and then we can go.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right.” He looked at me briefly, his expression unreadable. He might have been a stranger, but I knew better. He was simply good at hiding in plain sight.

  Chapter 14

  The day after confronting Nita, I felt lighter. I knew it was a cliché, but something had shifted within me, my anger lifting as I reminded myself once more that I had forgiven her. I imagined I would be reminding myself of this fact with some frequency, although I also foresaw that there would come a time when I hardly thought of my aunt at all. Those angry violet eyes would become a memory, something tucked away in my past, which I took out and examined when I wanted to be sad or maybe even nostalgic for a while.

  It turned out that the spot we had set up camp the previous night had been a little over an hour from our final destination, where we hoped to find The Darkness. It would require passing through a bustling village on the way, one I had visited several times as a child, but had not seen in years. Rayder wanted to make it a stop, as apparently the engine of our vehicle was not functioning as it ought to be, causing Neal to frown and Rayder to become extra moody as he muttered about more money being spent. I could hardly find it in me to dislike the village, even with its thriving market chock-a-block with fly-infested fruits and stinking hunks of meat. Certainly, it reeked to the heavens, but it was the brightly-colored vials of any number of miraculous liquids which fascinated me, said to cure just about every ailment known to humankind. Stalls were cluttered with them, where sellers called out loudly to anyone who would listen, promising the world in exchange for a few coins. Dogs, cats, pigs and chickens darted between the stalls, overturning cartons of fruit and getting under legs as they went. It was chaos, but I smiled watching it all.

  “This one’s for lost lovers,” Susie laughed, holding up a vial full of a thick pink liquid. “Lost anyone along the way, Aria?” She raised her eyebrows rather too suggestively. “Rub this over your heart and they’ll apparently be making their way across the desert any minute now!” She snorted, holding the vial up to the sunlight for inspection.

  In response, the trader, an elderly man with a face like a sundried prune, scowled at her, snatching the vial from her hands. “No sale. No sale,” he repeated in the accent of the lower classes. “No sale for non-believers.”

  “Can I come back when I believe?” Susie asked, all sweetness, causing Kieran to make a sound between an exaggerated sigh and a laugh.

  “Away with you!” the old man flicked his dusty hands at us exasperatedly, wiping the vial as if to cleanse it of Susie’s touch.

  “Really, Suse,” Stef chided, “do you have to?”

  “I was just kidding,” Susie replied, shaking her head good-naturedly.

  “They don’t understand your version of kidding,” Stef responded, slightly angrily, looking over her shoulder at the old man again. “They really believe it.”

  Saffron weighed in on the conversation then. “It’s all just superstition!” she declared in disgust. “Just another way to keep the poor poor and the rich rich. I saw it at Balen’s all the time,” she added, surprising me, as it was the first time she had ever spoken of her childhood growing up at Balen’s fortress. “Some poor idiot promising to hand over his youngest child to Balen and his seers and in exchange some ludicrous curse would be lifted off his family.” There was a moment of heavy silence and I took in the fierce look on Saffron’s flawless face. She did not meet any of our loaded glances and instead focused her attention on another nearby trader, selling similar vials and lucky charms in the form of animal entrails, hooves and tails. “Let’s get the hell out of here,” she snapped, before any of us had a chance to answer her. “Rayder and Neal have probably finished with the engine parts by now.”

  As we left the village some time later, our engine as good as new, I could not help but feel rather sentimental. In the early evening light, the thriving, noisy market looked nothing like I remembered it from my childhood. I supposed that nothing ever did. In my memories, it spanned forever, row upon row of frantic activity. In reality, it was small, although no less chaotic. Nevertheless, I could recall paying a visit with my father, in an attempt to find a new buyer for our mohair. The buyer had turned out not to be interested, but that colorful market full of noise and life had captivated me, seen from my father’s shoulders as he had carried me. My childhood was cut short, but, while it lasted, it had been a happy one. I could not help thinking of Saffron then. Her own childhood seemed to have been non-existent. What could she have endured at the hands of Balen, and as such a little girl, too? What monsters lay in her past and haunted her dreams?

  I did not really have time to become too morose, however, as within a handful of miles, more red sand upon endless red sand, we came across The Darkness, the company of actors having settled almost precisely where Madame Sonyaba had said they would be. I felt my mouth fall open as I took it in. The traveling theater was unlike anything I had ever seen before: at once horrifying and fascinating. Pale evening light fell languidly onto a great wooden stage, its dusty red velvet curtains drawn and accentuating the silence which surrounded the scene. Empty chairs watched the stage, their legs sinking into the sand, while they waiting patiently for an audience to warm them. On either side of the stage was an array of tents, all of them black, some of them with sprinklings of what appeared to be blood in the sand encircling them. The entire area was surrounded by barbed wire and on a rickety gate, there was a sign reading Enter if you dare, a pseudo welcome to the unholy ground. Dimly-lit lanterns dotted the fence, casting eerie pools of light onto the sand below and illuminating the vultures above, at least a dozen of them circling the space, the beating of their wings just audible.

  “Oh good,” Susie said, as she climbed out of our truck, “it’s like a nightmare come to life.”

  “It’s creepy as hell,” Kieran conceded, smiling. “I like it.”

  “Me too,” I chipped in. “The vultures add a nice touch, don’t they?”

  “They’re actors,” Saffron said, actually addressing me without sarcasm, “it comes with the turf.”

  “Part of their mass appeal, I’m sure,” Neal added, inspecting the blood which I had only just noticed dripping from segments of the barbed wire without the least bit of alarm, as if it were a scientific equation to be solved. “Real, it seems,” he confirmed matter-of-factly.

  “Can we help you?” a child’s voice called from behind the red curtains. I gasped in surprise when a little girl, perhaps eight or nine, stepped out onto the stage, her bright blonde hair pinned back in pigtails and catching the breeze. She wore a stark white dress, her thin legs wrapped in black tights. It was her face which caused me to take pause, painted white, but for black smudges beneath her deep brown eyes. There was something off-putting about her, as if she were a thing which might haunt a great castle somewhere long abandoned, but I supposed that she fit right in, given where we were. “We do so love to ha
ve visitors,” her voice drawled the last word, making me suspect her welcome of us.

  “Who’s in charge?” Rayder called back, undeterred as he walked through the barbed wire entrance towards the stage.

  “Who’s asking?” the child replied, taking a red apple out of the pocket of her dress. “Apple?” she asked suddenly, a small smile creeping over her face.

  “Seriously,” Susie whispered beside me, “don’t let me get stuck in a dark alley with this kid.”

  “Not hungry,” Rayder said, “but thanks.”

  The child shrugged, “Suit yourself.”

  “Noodle,” a deep voice called to the right of the stage, “are you practicing your friendly skills?”

  “Always,” the child, possibly named Noodle, replied, a sweet smile replacing the unnerving look on her face.

  A tall young man in his early twenties stepped onto the stage then, dressed in a deep green evening suit, complete with a top hat and tails. He looked from the child to us and I took in his twinkling green eyes set against his roguishly handsome face with its olive complexion. Both of his ears were pierced, a dark wooden spiral in each lobe. His temperament seemed a far cry from the girl’s own, however, for he smiled at us, the dimple in his left cheek unmistakeable.

  “I’ll take a side order of him,” Susie whispered, loudly enough so that the young man winked at her, just before pulling off his top hat to reveal a thick mass of dark curly hair.

  “Noodle tends to err on the side of caution with our guests,” the man said, enunciating each word with a flair for the dramatic, a typical actor. “Don’t you, darling?” he closed the distance between them and twisted his finger affectionately through one of her pigtails. “Not a fan of visitors, are you?”

  “No,” the child replied sullenly, glaring at us.

  The man laughed, patting her patronizingly on the head, “Have you found out who our guests are?”

  “No, but she managed to offer us her apple, so politeness wasn’t entirely lacking,” Rayder replied, his tone somewhat clipped and clearly indicating his authority.

  In response, the young man laughed again, swinging his top hat in the air casually. “I wouldn’t eat one of those if I were you.”

  “Noted,” Rayder said tightly. “Are you in charge?”

  “My, my,” he responded, before jumping from the stage, “aren’t you impatient?” He started to saunter towards us, as if he had all the time in the world. Perhaps he did, for the place seemed altogether otherworldly.

  “We’re here on business,” Rayder replied shortly, “not to watch a show.”

  “Life’s a show,” the young man said, his gaze lazily taking us all in, before holding my stare. “Do you believe in magic?” he whispered, addressing me.

  I glanced incredulously at Susie beside me and she muttered, “Say yes.”

  “No,” I said tentatively, furrowing my brow at him and tucking my hair self-consciously behind my ear.

  He walked in my direction, stopping so close to me that I could see the brown flecks in his green eyes. “Upwards,” he indicated the vultures briefly with a flick of his hand, “you see them, creatures of eons past.” I heard Saffron sigh beside me in irritation, but I was transfixed. His voice was alluring. His eyes held me. “They feast on death, you see. And death is all around us, leaving a trace of magic from the afterlife in its wake. Which means,” he touched my ear lightly, causing me to suck in my breath, “when something dies, as a consolation, the gods take the soul, but leave us with a touch more magic on earth. To use if we dare.” His eyes crinkled as if he might smile and then he winked at me. “Drop this?”

  In his hands he held a necklace, a string of black stones which Stef had lent me a few days before.

  I laughed in delight, touching my neck where the missing necklace had been only moments before. “How’d you do that?” I asked, incredulous.

  “I told you,” he winked, “magic. Do you have a name?”

  I heard Rayder clear his throat somewhere nearby, but did not glance in his direction. “Um.” For a moment, I could not recall what fake name I had decided upon for myself.

  “What a wonderful name!” he cried, lifting a lock of my flaming orange hair. “What charming people your parents must have been to name their precious daughter Um.”

  I laughed, “It’s Sara, actually.”

  “Sara actually,” he raised an eyebrow.

  “Just Sara,” I replied, shaking my head. “Sara.”

  “Got it,” he said, bowing deeply. “I’m Aidan. And your friends? Their stares are making me nervous,” he whispered without the slightest hint of anxiety. I wondered vaguely what part he was playing for us. “Especially that one.” I followed his gaze and found Rayder, a grim frown on his face. “Does he practice that face in the mirror, do you think?”

  I decided to be cheeky. Besides, the idea was to win over the actors, so playing along with Aidan was hardly a bad idea. “I think he might. But only very late at night.”

  Susie burst out laughing and I glanced briefly in Rayder’s direction, shrugging an apology and giving him a playful smile. His expression did not change and he looked away from me, his eyes taking in Aidan again from head to toe.

  “The name’s Damon,” Rayder said. “I take it you’re in charge, so I’ll get to the point. Ever heard of Balen?” Aidan’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “We want to cut a deal with you. Screw Balen in the process. You interested?” He folded his arms menacingly across his chest.

  “Maybe,” Aidan said, his tone somehow normal now, less dramatic, as if we were hearing his actual voice for the first time.

  “Let’s talk then,” Rayder replied. “Is there anyone else who should hear what we have to say?”

  “Yeah. Mabel.” Aidan turned towards the stage and said, “Noodle, can you call her for me?”

  “Maybe,” Noodle responded, scowling at us, before turning a smile on Aidan. “Do you trust them?”

  “Well,” he drawled, his actor’s voice on show again, “I’m not sure.” He spun around and stalked towards me once more, stopping well within my personal space. “It’s in the eyes, you see,” he called to Noodle. “And this one has good eyes. Clear blue. Like the sky. Endless. Full of forevers.” He turned to look at Noodle, “I think we can trust her. What do you think?”

  Noodle glowered at me and I suspected she might have a little girl’s crush on Aidan. “If you say so.”

  “I do.” There was a smile in his voice. “Now, be a good girl and call Mabel for me.”

  Noodle nodded at Aidan before disappearing behind the curtain in a hurry.

  “Full of forevers,” Susie muttered. “Whoever said romance was dead?”

  I rolled my eyes at her, before stepping away from Aidan. “Personal bubble,” I said by way of explanation.

  He smiled, the dimple in his cheek on display again, “Don’t burst my bubble, now.” He wiggled his eyebrows, “And here I thought I was charm itself.”

  “Can we move along?” Saffron asked impatiently, coming up beside me and surprising me by touching my arm ever so briefly in something like a show of friendship. “Yes, Sara is the definition of beauty, yada yada, but we’ve got some heavy stuff to discuss, if you’re done with your one-man show.”

  “Don’t be jealous, love,” Aidan said, winking and causing Saffron to roll her eyes dramatically. “You’re easy on the eyes yourself.”

  “We’re all gorgeous,” Susie declared, holding her arms out wide with a smile to match. “Now, let’s talk money, weapons and getting into fortresses.”

  “Now you’re speaking my language,” Aidan said, his voice free of his actor’s affectation again. “Love’s just a side show.”

  “Finally, something we agree on,” Rayder said and I caught his gaze instinctively, knowing the question was written all over my face.

  Did he really believe love was irrelevant and, if so, why the hell was I being stupid enough to let myself fall fo
r him? Because, that was the truth of it. I was in love with him. At least, I was fairly certain I was, despite his aloofness and, quite frankly, the frequent sighs and glares he shot at me. He was impossible and then, out of the blue, adorable and I hated him and loved him just the same.

  The others introduced themselves to Aidan then, fake names all round, Aidan’s included too, I was sure. I tried to reorganize my thoughts and focus on the task ahead, instead of obsessing over Rayder’s comment. When Mabel walked out onto the stage, I pushed Rayder from my mind entirely, taking in the stunning girl before me. She was likely around my own age, dressed from head to toe in a black velvet fitted dress, her arms and neck covered. Oozing elegance, she had dark mocha eyes set against deep caramel skin, while her short pink hair was cropped close to her head. Her cheeks were awash in bright pink rouge and beside her right eye was a tattoo of a butterfly, its wing touching her eyelid and curling beneath her eyelashes. She was beautiful in the way that Saffron was though, a little cold, her eyes assessing us each in turn, her mouth pulled down in a pout.

  “You’ve woken me up,” she addressed this comment to Aidan, folding her arms as she spoke. “This had better be good.”

  Aidan seemed completely unperturbed by her mood and, while looking at Rayder, responded, “That remains to be seen. Shall we?”

  The most private place in their makeshift theater turned out, ironically, to be backstage. On nights when they were not performing, the actors tended to congregate in each other’s tents apparently, leaving the stage as the best option for covert chats. We pulled up the audience’s empty chairs and dragged them behind the red curtains, to sit in the semi-darkness, with only a couple of lonely globes to emit any light in the gloom. Once the second set of introductions was complete, with Mabel’s sharp eyes seeming to take in just about every hair on our heads, we got down to business.