Brought Down

14. The Kids

Garrett

I can hear Julian shake the door, but the metal rod I used to block it holds firm. I extract another one from the nearby pile of metal junk, and add it to the first one, just to be sure. Then, I pick the gun, check it, turn around and start walking. He's shouting something, but I don't listen. Enough with that sympathy for the devil nonsense. He's made his bed, now let him lie in it.

After a few more steps, I can't hear him anymore.

I hurry along the deserted streets. Got to get to the house where I saw the kid. If he went somewhere else from there, I may not be able to find him. Could try calling for him, but that could scare him into hiding, and alert other creatures to my presence.

It's almost midday now, and my surroundings can be seen distinctly in the grey light—the brightest it ever gets here on the surface. The real sunshine is supposed to be yellow, as I know from the books and the movies. Never actually seen it myself.

As I reach the pile of stones and armature in the middle of the street, I almost run into the kid.

He wears such dirty clothes that he look just like another part of the hill of junk towering behind him. He's probably eight or nine years old. He stands still, staring at me. Then he reaches aside, and another piece of junk moves and grabs his hand. It's a girl, just as dirty as him, and probably half his age. He helps her down from the huge boulder she's standing on. They must have just crossed the pile from the other side.

"Hello." The girl looks up at me. "What's your name?"

"Garrett," I say, panting. "Guys, I'm so glad I found you."

"We found you," says the girl indignantly. "I saw you from the window, and then I told Sam. Where's your friend?"

My friend? Oh right. She saw me walking with Julian.

"Never mind," I say. "Where are you from, kids?"

"Merville," says the boy.

I nod. The little settlement that had been obliterated two weeks ago. But how could two little children have survived for so long?

"Are you alone here?"

"We came here with our uncle," the boy says.

That makes more sense. "And where is he?"

They look at each other, then at me.

"He's gone," says the boy.

"You mean..." I don't want to say 'dead', but I must clarify this somehow. "You mean, there's no use to look for him, or wait for him, or something?"

They shake their heads, and the girl's eyes fill with tears.

"Okay, okay," I say. "You've been through tough stuff, but it's over now, all right? I'll take you to a safe place. But we will have to walk fast, and probably will still have to spend another night in the city. All right?"

"Yes sir," says the boy.

"Just call me Garrett."

"Can I call you uncle Garrett?" says the girl.

"Sure." I smile.

"But shouldn't we wait for your friend?"

My smile dies away. "No. He's not a friend."

"But what if he gets in trouble?"

I wince at the thought of the particular kind of trouble Julian must be facing right now. But he deserved it. In addition to all he's done, he refused to help this very child who is now worried about his well-being. He has a pretty face, but nothing is pretty about his personality. He won't fool me again.

"If he's in trouble," I say, "he's brought it on himself. Now, let's go."

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