l bodies skittered through the shadows, avoiding the few street lamps that still worked. The dark meant protection, safety. Those amb
sometimes. It wou
g go and it could all be over. I wouldn't even have to watch my impending collision. I could just close my eyes and wait for the
uld
e first to give
, letting my heels fall to meet the solid cement again. It would be easy,
g this god-forsaken place. Six years could make people forget, lose themselves, but it only
ong, su
e eat, and made me keep moving. And thos
m drain, hear my mother's voice as she slipped the backpack over my shoulders. I watched silently from the prison where my parents placed me as the Ravagers took their lives, my knuckles bleeding as I pressed them to my mouth to keep from screaming. I saw my father bleed out as he watched them r
ed up the grate and dragged me out. I should have screamed or fought him, but I remembered my mother's words and instead just held his gaze. He
y never did nothing for you." Without a second glance at me, he tossed my f
s el
ad left his journal in the backpack. It contained plans, ideas for surviving in the city
following them devo
ad thought about giving up, stepping off a building or walking out into the daylight unarmed, I could never commit. As much as I wante
nd timepiece. It wasn't much, but I loved the old watch. No batteries meant no failure and power was a scarce thing in Tartarus. I
hey prowled mostly during they day
hat was the wa
d to think of them. Each had their own defining virtues- if you could
y got close to the dirty work. Adroits set numerous traps throughout Tartarus- bombs that could take out a city block, IEDs that would take a man out at the knees leaving him to blee
. They moved like silent shadows. Rarely heard, but their presence was everywhere. Tribe wars rarely started or ended without the Tacitur
one survived an attack to tell about it, but the aftermaths were enough to strike fear in even the darkest heart. Each murder was marked by the removal of the victim's left hand. As the victim's
often as they would a stranger. Their motto was "Sleep with one eye open." They were also the number one contributor to the city's lost orphans. The Scavengers reproduced like the rodents they were, but didn't possess a nurturing bone in their disease-ridden bodies. Any child
ey ran purely on their ids. Always seeking out instant gratification for their basic urges, needs, and desires. If they wanted something, they took it. The Ravagers feared no one, took what
or
y, not mine. I may live here now,
play by t
meant living longer. And if you won't play with
o bury myself. In truth, there really wasn't much of a choice. The smell of the underground reminded me of the storm drain, of my parents'
d dice. It was a strange dice, red with white faded letters on each side. But to me, each letter meant a different safe house, a different place to hide.
t's safe house was my favorite and it had been nearly a month since I had been th
es held true, most of their insides had been gutted. Torn apart over the years by Tribe wars, animals and time. Unless you could scale a drainpipe, brave an abandoned elevator shaft or climb the eroded brick on the side o
st as the first drop fell. I glared at the sky
I grumbled
now reeked of toxicity. If drank, it would surely kill a person and if caught in it for too long, your s
's hinge. Locks kept most people out but only because they never thought to remove the hinges.
The air duct had gotten tighter over the years as I had grown but my progress was still uninhibited. After twenty feet or so, I felt the grated vent against my palms. I pressed my ear to the perforated surface and listened for a sixty count. Upon hearing nothing, I
down from my perch and took seven calculated steps forward. As before with the vent, I traced the door, ensuri
although this bulb cast everything in a sickly hue, the benefit was that it would probably outlive me. Despite my distaste for the green glow, it was still a welcome friend in t
elving I had used as a ladder was now covered in books with a few surplus food boxes mixed in. I tried to keep a small stash in every hostel for days like this when the rain trapped me
e they were still with me, like I wasn't alone. That's why I loved this refuge more than any other, not for its location in the city or its safety, but for what was contained within its walls. Outside this storage closest was what remained of the Old World's library. During my visits here, I would brave the open aisles and steal books. The main floor of the library was desolate. Fe
th its brothers and took
t, two military grade MREs and a rare can of pears. It had expired a year ago, but a girl could not afford to be
y weren't great either. The hardest part was usually finding a way to heat them. If I placed the bag over my torch lantern, I could usually get a luke
ood portion of it was written in a code he had taught me. While I could remember how to read the script, I couldn't remember what he had called it. Latin or Larin or something like that. My mind could never latch onto its name, but as long as I knew how to read it, I didn't really care. L
s toward its detriment. Science saved lives that would have been otherwise damned, constantly cheating death. The world's population was soarin
devastating. It started with the earthquakes. While cities fell into rubble, other parts of the earth opened up. Once dormant volcanoes awoke, searing the sky and smothering the land. Then the wate
hose who sought security and equality were welcomed to The Sanctuary with open arms. Those who sought power and dominance were left to Tartarus. Cultures ceased to exist and races blended together but the human race still found a way to divide itself. The Sanctuary f
deaths. But it was as if all those memories had died with them. I think maybe it was my mind's way of protecting itself. I would get flashes of them reading me books or looking up at my mothe
y Bir
*
y!
re to VOTE//CO