Brought Down

12. The City

Garrett

The city always gives me creeps. During the day, if you keep away from the crumbling buildings and the particularly shadowy places, it's not too dangerous, but there's never a one hundred percent guarantee.

Things like darkness. They evolved during the times when Earth was so enclosed by radioactive clouds that no sunlight came through. During the last century, though, as the days began to get a bit brighter, they became less inclined to go outside during the daytime. That, in turn, allowed us to start getting out of the mines and make attempts to reclaim the surface.

Yet things are still there, and, as they once adapted to darkness, they could, eventually, adapt to light. We're never safe outside the mines.

We walk in the middle of an abandoned highway littered with remains of cars so rusty they're hardly recognizable. Tall buildings tower over us, their black, glassless windows promising all kinds of unpleasant surprises to anyone coming too near.

We pass under a bridge. The signs with arrows and the names of places are indecipherable. One of the traffic lights still stands, but its leg is bent as if something has given it a strong blow, and its head is pointing down.

"So," says Julian behind my back. "Do you come here often?"

He clearly feels uneasy, too, and is trying to dispel it by talking. Not my problem.

"All right," he says after a pause. "Too busy with your own thoughts?"

I keep walking.

"What could you be thinking about?" he says. "Oh, wait, I know. It's that girl, right? That Angie girl. I could see the chemistry. She's nice. Maybe a bit too big and plain, don't you think? "

I don't react.

"Anyway, it's a matter of taste," he continues. "Some men prefer those big, blond, muscular women. The Viking type girls. You know, Vikings were the people who lived in --"

"I know who the Vikings were," I say without looking at him. "We have books, too."

"Oh, you have books? I thought you ate them all during the hard times. You can swallow a good book in a day or two, you know?"

"You're not as funny as you think you are."

"I'm just trying to liven up the conversation. You're not helping."

"No," I say. "As for the women, at least ours are fighters. We can rely on them for anything. From what I hear, up there where you come from, they are just breeders and babysitters."

"That only means that our men are capable of ensuring their safety and well-being, so that they could live an easy and gratifying life. Something that you can't do for yours, so they have to look and act like some hammer-swinging trolls."

"But it's because of you confining us to those damn mines!" My blood is pulsing hard at my temples, and I can barely keep my voice down. "The only difference between us is that your ancestors have won the war and mine have lost. So now you have the space stations and we must starve down here."

"Well, it could have been worse," he says. "We could abandon you altogether and rely on the Luna mines. Yet we keep you alive by trading with you—and you repay our kindness by rebelling! Do you suggest we should just welcome a bunch of cavemen to our stations? We'd sooner cut the cord and leave you on your own down here."

I restrain myself. He's wrong on so many levels, but there's no use in arguing. No need to show him that his words get to me. Perhaps I should try to get to him instead.

"So, why do you even want to go to your base?" I say. "Missing your Daddy? The one who wants you executed for treachery?"

"He's not the only one there, you know."

"He's the one in charge, no? Or maybe you've changed your mind about meeting Burnface?"

"There're other people I can turn to." His voice has lost its teasing edge, though, which is good.

"I'm sure there's plenty of people who'd gladly disobey Lord Maynard to help you." He doesn't answer, so I know I hit the target. "Anyway, regarding Burnface, why didn't he kill you after the fire? From what I heard, he's not the forgiving type."

"Given my parentage, I'm not exactly expendable. He could only banish me."

I frown at his choice of words. "Banish? What, did you work for him or something?"

"What's that to you?" he snaps. "Just keep going. I liked it more when you kept your mouth shut."

"You said I didn't liven up the conversation, so I'm trying."

"Well, I take that back. Shut up."

We keep walking in silence. The center of the city is behind us, and we are surrounded by lower buildings now. This part of the city must have looked not too welcoming even before the war. Now, it just looks like a huge junkyard.

One of the building has collapsed and is blocking the street, so we are forced to climb up the pile of rocks and armature to cross to the other side. Julian curses quietly behind my back. As much as I wish for him to break his leg or accidentally shoot himself, we both make it to the top of the rubbish hill in one piece. There, we stop to admire the view. The destruction around is unimaginable.

"Some crap people did in their time," he says. I turn to him, and he holds the gun up preventively. "Come on, let's go."

But I don't move. Behind his back, in the door of one of the houses down the street, I notice some movement. A little figure bursts into the road. It's hundreds of meters away from us, but I can tell it's smaller than a grown-up person. The kid—could be either a boy or a girl—crosses the street in a hurry and disappears in the door of another building.

I gasp. "Look! A child!"

"Please." Julian rolls his eyes. "Like, you really expect me to look away from you, so that you could attack me?"

"There was a kid." I glare at him. "Seriously. Just ran across the road."

"Yeah, and a pink elephant was flying right after him." He nods. "Knock it out, let's move."

"Julian, I swear by anything, there was a little child there." I try to speak calmly, but I'm all jittery inside. If we don't go after that child right now, who knows if we could find him later.

A shade of a doubt appears in his eyes, mixed with a fair share of suspicion. "Where would a child come from in such a place?"

"Some of the destroyed settlements, for sure," I say. "The ones you've bombed. Some people try to make their way to our hideaway, but they only know it's somewhere around this city, so we sometimes find them here. That's why we patrol it regularly. "

"I see," he says. "But what's that to us?"

"What do you mean? We must find him before it's dark. This place is dangerous."

"That's precisely why we should keep moving and leave it behind us as fast as we can."

I stare at him. "Would you really leave a child in a place like this?"

For a second, he seems hesitant. Then, he shakes his head.

"The kid is probably not alone, and I don't feel like dragging a whole family at a gunpoint." He looks away. "We've got to remain focused. Let's go."

I just gape at him. Out of all the things he'd done so far, this is like the lowest low. I'm so angry I can hardly breath, but I force myself to maintain at least the appearance of calm. It will be easier now, to do what I have in mind for him. I had my doubts before. Now, I feel no compassion.

"Let's go," I say. "We'll take the short way. Can't stand you much longer."

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