We can’t just stay here. We can’t just hide in the trees and hope no one finds us. I scan the landscape once more, the little of it I can see from where we’re crouched in the trees. Ellie is rifling through the pack, after a minute she throws it down and I hear her exclaim,
“Pathetic! How do they expect us to survive?”
“They don’t,” I say sharply, “it’s not a contest, not really. They’re just making bets on who will die last. They don’t expect it to take more then a few days.”
“But what about the last one alive…” Ellie stammers, “maybe they would let you live.”
I glance back at her sharply, hand automatically going to the knife at my belt, “You bought into this crap? You really think they’d let you live if you happened to survive this? Why the hell would they drag a street rat back with them? What do you expect them to do, throw a party for the survivor?”
Ellie frowns at me, but Gus is nodding in agreement, “she’s right,” he says grimly, “rich men don’t give a shit about street kids. They’ll just stick around to see who's left and leave the ‘winner’ to die in the desert after they all congratulate one another on winning their bets.”
Ellie pulls the brim of her battered top hat down over her eyes, as if it will shield her from all this, “that’s great,’ her voice is choked, and I realize she’s trying to hide her tears from us, “we’re going to die.”
In that second I feel a surge of something, some long lost emotion. Pity. Something I haven’t allowed myself to feel in a very long time. You can’t afford to feel sorry for anyone on the street, it’s kill or be killed. You don’t share the bread you steal, you need it to survive. You don’t help the kid being dragged down the alley by the gang, in case they take an interest in you as well. There is no three musketeers “one for all” garbage. It’s just you. But somehow this is different, somehow I feel it now, and my stomach sinks a little when I realize I’m getting attached to these two. A luxury I can't allow myself.
Ignoring the niggling little warning voice in the back of my head, I crouch down by Ellie and seize the brim of her hat between two fingers, tilting it up so I can see her big brown eyes. They’re filled with tears, and she blinks at me in surprise.
“Ellie,” I say evenly, “we’re not gonna to die. We’re going to show those bastards a thing or two.”
Gus says behind us, “How?”
I straighten up and grab the leather bag, slinging it over my shoulder. My eyes skim the surface of the desert again, drawn to the mountain once more. It’s like a magnet. It bothers me.
“They’re here somewhere, those men. They’re watching us. There must be a base somewhere.”
“There’s nothing,” Gus says.
“No,” I shake my head, “look, I remember them saying when they pulled us out of the room…pack your bags. That’s what he said to the other men.”
Ellie’s eyes grow wide, “one of them was talking about getting a shower. She’s right, there must be a building around here somewhere.”
I point to the mountain, “I'd guess that it’s up there, hidden someway.”
Ellie and Gus both look up at the mountain, heads tilting back, eyes widening. Finally Ellie breathes, “That’s going to be a really long climb.”
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Girl Apocalypse
خيال (فانتازيا)My name is Molly, and I am a walking apocalypse. Death on two legs. Life on the streets of Cheshire makes you hard, but it never prepared me for this. It all started when I stole something, nothing more than a pretty trinket that caught my eye (I di...