When the Sun Sets on You

Chapter IV: Heat

Light raked its delicate hands over the land, the sunrise began to peak over the back hill. It was a lovely view in its own right, as the colours of the sky and gums were bought into the day. Though it was one however, that I hoped to never see again.

Unable to fall back asleep, I waited with bated breath on what was only moments away. What lied ahead of tomorrow, was uncertain. Fear festered in the lining of my stomach. These people, they were coming for me soon, and I had nowhere to run to.

The old wooden stairs creaked; all hairs rose up against my skin.

'This is it.' I mumbled to myself, gripping the windowsill in anticipation.

My mother called out, 'Just this way, please.' Those footsteps that followed were slow, heavy. Appearing laboured, so painfully tired alike myself.

Turning away from the window, the door swung inwards. A small crowd had formed on the other side. A pair of well-dressed women were at the front, while young they held the determined stare of those much their senior. My parents lingered behind them, using the women as shields to protect themselves.

'Tristan Edmond, you're coming with us.' The blonde one barked.

'Who the hell are you?' My eyes darted between the duo. Their dress shirts were a sickly green, a small insignia of a pine tree on their pockets. 'You're dreaming if you think that I'm going anywhere with either of you!'

The black haired one stepped forward, grinding her teeth. 'We are required by law to escort you to our facility. We are also authorised to restrain and detain you if you refuse to come with us. Please pack your things as we are leaving within the hour, and you will not return.'

'The hell is this?' I hissed at my parents; my mother only shrunk further behind the wall.  My father however, forced himself into the room, his beloved rifle in his hands again.

'Unfortunately, you're valuable to someone alive. Because if this was done my way, you know where you'd be.'

'Of course. Because no one's life is valuable to you; is it?'

'Start. Fucking. Packing.' The gun rattled in his tightening grip; white bandages creeped down his arm. Covering where I had grabbed him.

'What's wrong with you?'

'You bruised me.' He mustered to meet my stare.

Pausing, I reached for the getaway bag and a spare from under my bed. 'Now that we're saying our goodbyes, I have to ask. Why did you do what you did? To me, to the—'

'Because it's what my father did to me, and his before him.' He hastily cut me off, not wanting the transporters to hear my question. 'Being soft, compassionate, to your children won't work if you want them to obey you.'

'That worked out so well for you, didn't it?' a smirk crossed my lips.

A temper sparked inside of him, 'You little bastard!' In a blink, he pulled back the bolt on the rifle. Raising the loaded weapon to my head. My mother and the women jumped, though they froze in place just outside the door.

'Go dtachta an Diabhal thú.' From my dream last night, I had picked up the language they were speaking. These words flowed from me like water, Engrained deep into a part of my being. Yet, I had never learnt to speak it.

Leaning my temple against the rifle's barrel, I was dangerously close to facing my mortality. As much as he wants to, he cannot hurt me anymore. Knowing that if he pulled that trigger, this grand new start he had proclaimed to his wife, would void.

My breath and bones are worth their weight in gold; I am immune.

'Speaking in tongues now, are you?' A mixture of rage and fear lingered in his gaze. Rifle jittering in his hands, finger lingering on the trigger. 'I am not afraid of something like you.'