Awakening

Chapter 2 - Orphan - 1/2

Eric stood on his bunk-bed, making it creak and protest his puny weight on its side. His eyes were darting along the streets of Undertown of Origin, scanning as if to pinpoint a location of someone. He knew they were somewhere there, still fighting, still raiding.

It was hard to see more than shadows outside and more than one block. The haze of pollution, diseases and death managed to swallow all the sight from anyone who lived here in Undertown. It was their life-companion. It was the death-cloud. For many, breathing was an effort in these bottom-parts of Origin--it was not taken for granted by the residents. The air was always thick and smelled of plastic, and people lived and died here, never losing the scent of it.

Eric was a short boy--shorter than most his age in the orphanage. His trimmed hair was coal-black and his eyes Jupiter-blue. He was becoming of age soon and finding his destiny in life was just one of the problems crept towards him in a constant pace. He knew what he wanted to be--Eric was always interested in the Undertown rebels--but he still had to figure out how to become one.

For the past few years he was collecting information about the incursions. It was not an easy task, and it involved hanging around places not suited for a boy his age--pubs, alleyways and sometimes brothels--fishing for more information by gossip about the next incursion, or maybe secrets of a safe-house. Of course, most of the information was rubbish, but he managed to stumble upon one or two raids already after a successful chit-chat with a drunken-man. The same man who tipped-off another raid today.

Turning away from the window, Eric sat back on his bed. Being short as he was created most of the troubles for him at the orphanage--being anything that is distinct from fat Yeits did. He was constantly mocked by Yeits' gang; chased by them all over the orphanage and outside, and sometimes even got into a fight or two. It didn't bother him so much as it did a couple of years back, but he was still repelled by the look of the fat kid as he saw him.

Now was another opportunity. Yeits was making his way into the bunk-room with his gang of three--all plump as he is. His face told the story. He was mad at something--probably got in trouble again with the caretaker and had another of those warnings everybody feared.

"Tsk. Tsk." Said Yeits "If it isn't the cry-baby."

The stinking Yeits. Always teasing the rest of the boys and girls, walking with his goons and allowing himself to bloat over the others because of his sizes. Eric had plans for him today, though.

"Shut up." Eric said blankly.

Yeits kept pacing towards him, walking between two rows of bunk-beds in the cramped bedroom, kicking the clutter on the floor to the sides and saying "little shit." All along. His goons walked behind him--there was no room between the bed for more than one fat boy. His eyes were fixated on Eric.

Eric grabbed the railing of the bed, pressing himself like a spring and getting ready to dart away. Yeits was always picking on everybody, but once he gets angry, it was better to find yourself out the orphanage and in the cloud, than in his hands. And that was Eric's plan anyway.

"Crying ey? I'll give you a good reason." Yeits said, and seeing Eric still sitting on his bed. Yeits threw a hand to grab him by his shoulder.

Rads! Rads! Rads!, Eric couldn't think of anything but curses.

"Wanna say it to my face, you little shit?" Yeits said, pressing on Eric's shoulder and showing a big fist with his other hand.

Eric didn't think. Not anymore. Not after seeing that compelling fist. He kicked. Hard. So hard he felt his sheen connect with Yeits' pelvis.

Yeits jolted, almost jumping up from the force of the kick, his hand releasing Eric's shirt and shooting to grab his crutch. He twisted his face in agony and his body wrinkled, as though his groin was a black-hole, sucking his essence inside of it.

It was satisfying, extremely satisfying.

"Eeeeek. Youuuu litttleee shhhiit!" he managed to croak. Tears of pain appeared in his eyes as he was squirming on the floor.

Eric didn't sit to enjoy the show, though all of the room was now wide awake and laughing at the twisted bully on the floor. The echoes of their laughter filling Eric's spirit. Eric bolted. He shot through the bedroom's cramped open-space, stepping on Yeits' crumpled body on the way.

His squad was confused. It was the first time Eric or anyone actually confronted Yeits. They half-willingly shot hands to catch him, missing him by a along shot and stumbling forward. He escaped.

His legs moved on their own, bare-feet tip-tapping the stairs, his left hand grabbing the chilly railing and his eyes following the movement. It was cold, but he didn't feel it. His heart was racing so fast he couldn't hear anything but the throbbing in his ears.

He jumped off the final steps and pulled himself by the railing to stabilize his drop. The entrance door downstairs was closed but it was never locked. There was no point trying to prevent the orphans from escaping. No law demanded the basic-rights for them, no authority which will penalize the criminals who held them in the disgraceful way they did here. They were all soon-to-be-dead children who got picked by a caring high-born. The same man who built this facility and kept them fed, watered and under a roof.

Eric caught a glimpse on his pair of shoes he left in the lobby. He slid towards them, not losing time. Slipped them on his now red and dirty feet and darted out the door, shouts of "Ha! He will die out there now!" behind him.

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AUTHOR'S NOTES - Wanted to post a new scene from the second chapter to celebrate the new cover for the book. This chapter introduces the second main character in the story - Eric. Originally, this character was a fragment of my friend's imagination and I finally implemented him to the story. I hope you enjoyed little Eric, the second scene will be posted on Sunday.

Happy reading!