Let's All Just Blindfold The Poor, We Must Remind Them What's In Store

The Real Beginning

Jack stretched his arms out. He'd been awake for hours but he was waiting for Crutchie to get up before he did anything. He had plenty of time to think in the mornings, as he was almost always awake before him.

It had been a long ten years. Today was Jack's 17th birthday, the same age Francis was when they ran away together.

Ten years since he'd seen his home. Ten years since he'd seen the refuge. Eight years since he met Crutchie. Seven years since he finally opened up to him. Four years since Francis disappeared.

But Jack knew that Francis didn't leave them. He knew that Francis had to cross that miserable train track to get them food. He knew Francis probably didn't even get to the other side.

After all, every morning in the papes there were new, terrifyingly high numbers of kids that were taken down by that train. It never said their names, there were way too many to do so, but Francis wouldn't have left them otherwise.

The train is still going, but now it's totally fenced away. If you want to get to the other side of town, you either take the long long way, or you have to actually get on the train.

Kids' deaths by train aren't even reported anymore, and instead of a lullaby, the roar of the machine has turned into the source of Jack and Crutchie nightmares.

Since that night, a lot has happened. About a week after Francis left, some kids found them, and brought them to their home.

Though, it wasn't much of a home, more like a lodge. There was an entrance room, where a man kept track of everyone who lived there, and when they came in and out. Next to that, there was a kitchen, though not much ever happened there.

Upstairs, there was a long bathroom with separate stalls, and then just across the hall from that, there was one giant bedroom. It was filled with bunk beds and some were even accompanied by tiny night stands. All of the beds were filled, some kids even sharing.

So, Jack and Crutchie made their home on the roof. The other kids insisted on sharing, or even giving up their beds, but Jack and Crutchie needed a little space. And the roof wasn't so bad. At least, it wasn't in the summer and spring.

To live there, you don't need to pay, or provide food, or clean. All you have to do is bring kids with powers to the refuge. Of course, Jack and Crutchie knew something about each other that no one else did, so they didn't purposely seek out any kids to ruin their lives. But if they were hanging out with any of their lodge mates, and happened to stumble upon one? Well, their hands were tied.

But most of the kids there were more concerned with having fun. And that's what they did. These past few years, as hard as they were, had been filled with laughter and joy. All the boys had gotten so close. Even Antonio was there! Well, he goes by Racetrack now, further proving that he was just in the refuge because of some gamble. And even if he was caught helping some kid with a talent, that obviously wasn't a top concern, because he's here now. Jack and Race had never really talked about their time in the refuge, mostly because they just didn't want the other kids to know that they were there together, they didn't want anyone thinking that one of them might have a talent. Jack was just grateful that Race hadn't told anyone about him.

Crutchie finally blinked awake, and rolled around to face his friend. "Good mornin' Jack." he said through a yawn. And then he paused, "whatta you still doing here? Ain't you supposed to be scoutin' the town with Albert?"

Jack shot up. Shit. "oh yeah! He must be waitin'. Sorry Crutch." he said, spinning around to head down the fire escape.

Crutchie just giggled at him, as he used his crutch to help lift himself up. He took a moment to stretch. To relax. To breathe. It was a nice day. Almost as good as yesterday. Maybe Crutchie would go to the park again. He laughed to himself when he remembered about how when he and Jack were yesterday, there was a boy sitting on their bench, and Jack wouldn't stop death-staring him. Maybe if he's there again, they could talk. Maybe a fresh voice would be nice.