Survival

Alaric

Layla stands in front of me. Her black dress flows to the floor, the skirt is made from a fairly see-through fabric, the top reveals a lot and is made up from black fabric leaves and vines. Her dark hair is pulled back at the sides and it forms a braid running down the length of her hair. Her lips are painted a severe blood red and her eyes are thick and black, outlined by a light blue, her cheeks look hollow. I look over her shoulder and see Skyrah walking outside.

“So, what is it that you do here?” Layla asks, folding her skinny pale arms over her chest.

“I-uh-I work…” I trail off, desperately trying to think of something believable “I’m a driving instructor, that’s probably why we haven’t met because you obviously aren’t old enough” I say hoping that she believes me. She takes a moment to think, chewing on her deep red lip.

“I suppose so, you don’t seem old enough” she says challenging my statement.

“Well, some people are just lucky enough to look younger” I say cheerfully. She shoots me a suspicious look but shrugs it off.

“What’s with the mask?” she says leaning forward touching it, I flinch and she pulls her arm away with a look of disappointment.

“Well, someone’s got to add some mystery, am I right?” I say laughing it off.

“Yeah I suppose so” she giggles. She places her –strangely large for a girl- hand on my arm. I look over her shoulder to see Emory talking to a tired looking woman. She is wearing a simple long black dress with a draping cape. Her short blonde hair is swept to the side. Her ears hold small black squares, each one has two silver stripes in the middle. She stands with her hand on her hip, looking straight past Emory. Astraea stands in a gown that brushes the floor, the dress fades from cream to purple and it glimmers when she moves, her matching hair is pulled back in various sections and the majority hangs down past her shoulders. She is talking to a middle aged man, his greying hair curves into his beard and his belly threatens to burst out of his white button down shirt. I focus on Layla again and find her rambling on about Blade being a bad boyfriend. I pretend to look interested, but I have to say, it’s hard.

Layla’s irritating voice is cut short by the metallic clank of a large tray hitting the ground and the ringing of glasses smashing. As expected everyone rushes over to help the waiter up, people run over with brushes and mops. I quickly push my way through the crowd and slip out of the large double doors, Astraea hot on my heels. Skyrah stands there, her tanned leg showing from the slit in her dress, one hand on her hip she smiles, holding a set of cards on ring in the other hand she says,

“Let’s go shall we”

We all walk down the street that leads to the town hall, it takes us two minutes and before we know it we stand outside the town hall. Skyrah, Emory, Astraea, Raine and I. Skye walks to the front door of the building, she scans the cards and picks one, running it through some sort of lock, the door opens and we walk into the dark entrance. In silence we creep along the edge of the hallway. Raine takes the lead as she has been in here more than anyone else, she leads us down a series of complicated hallways until we reach a door. The door is made from a heavy metal and has at least three locks and bolts, Raine slides three different cards through the lock and the bolt pop open. I pull open the door with every ounce of strength. Inside there are rows of computers and switches and filing cabinets. We split up, Raine and Emory go onto the computers, and Skyrah and Astraea start flicking through the files in the cabinet. I stand guard.

“Goddamn passwords, any ideas guys?” Emory calls out.

“Um, Insurgent programme?” Astraea replies. Emory types it in; it’s wrong.