Recovery. (3) “They’re all dead.” He whispered. “Lets not rush to conclusions here….” “We both know it. Half the kids here are orphans now. We were lucky.” “There must be someone out there.” I insisted. Neither said anymore for over an hour until Alexander bid goodnight and left for sleep. I sat alone into the early morning before moving into the lounge to sleep on the couch once more. Three years later… My world had always been full of over-arrogant artists trying to out do each other, and in a lot of ways it bothered me. But as I sat in a soft chair wrapped in a blanket and watched Alexander strum his guitar, I felt only pride and love. Occasionally, he would hit the wrong note, and look up at me, smiling sheepishly, before continuing to play the introduction to come as you are once over again. I would tap along on the arm of the chair and listen, captivated by his brilliance. A lot had changed in those years since I first woke up in what was now mine and Alexander’s bedroom. People had come and gone, leaving behind them a small morbid curiosity as to whether or not they would come back. Travellers returned from other cities, bringing food, supplies and people with them. On a worse note, they also brought news that the entire nation was destroyed. 59, 755, 700 people across the United Kingdom, wiped out from a single nights massacre. And we were just a small percentage of the tiny group that was left. In a typical show of spectacular closed mindedness, gangs were formed across regions. Instead of becoming a joint army, battling the common enemy that was the Americans, we threw ourselves at each other with sticks, guns, and rocks, not caring that we were in fact wiping ourselves out. Territories were erected and we respected them, because, simply, we either stayed away or caused trouble. There were two other major gangs in central London, possibly more that we didn’t know about. We lived up to the rules, and enforced them because if we didn’t, we would be conquered and killed. Nothing more to it. Of course, there was more than just the odd scuffle between gangs. Occasionally, American troops would investigate and we had little other choice than to stone them to death. We gave them a message to send home with them: you’ve done enough damage. Leave us alone or we will kill you. No prisoners were ever taken. Each of us hardened to the way of life, no matter how barbaric it seemed. Every one of us became a cold pitiless murderer, uncaring for those unfamiliar to us, and unmerciful to those threatening us. Almost instinctively, we chose a pack leader. Alexander had proven his worth many times over the years, and he was a good leader. He made all the right decisions and rarely failed us. Free from the embraces of our long deceased elders, we were free to live how we wanted. And that we did. Alexander and I had been infatuated for a great deal of the three years. We argued, we had our disagreements, but we had never been stronger. We were very happy wrapped in our sweet teenage romance. Theo entered the room and I smiled a welcome. Alexander stopped playing for the one second it took for him to say “hey Theo”. I rolled my eyes at him as he sat on the arm next to me. “What’s up?” I asked him. “Have you seen Helena?” he said quickly, a small amount of worry betraying his voice. “Not lately,” I reported. “But she’s usually around somewhere.” “We can’t find her. She’s not in the house.” Theo fidgeted with his hands in his lap. “She’s not in the garden, either.” “Who was the last person to see her?” Alexander asked, putting down his guitar. “That would be Eliza,” Theo said. “Last night. Everyone else hasn’t seen her since dinnertime.” I frowned, a stab of worry in my gut that I hadn’t felt since the last attack on the house. “Is anyone else missing?” “Everyone’s either out on patrol or in the house.” “Could she be on patrol?” “I checked. She’s not with them.” Alexander put his hand on my knee and squeezed reassuringly. “She’ll turn up. She’s probably just out somewhere-“ “Alone? She knows better than that.” Theo shrugged. “Well she’s not here.” As the evening darkened, I heard the back door click open. I stood up and stormed into the kitchen, hands on my hips and face Helena straight on. “Where the hell were you?” I screamed. Several of the house residents appeared in the doorway, curious to see the outcome. “I went out.” She said quietly, glaring at the crowd and then back at me. “That’s not a problem, is it?” “Yes it is!” I was fuming, so angry I could have hit her. “You left without alerting anybody. You could have been killed!” “I was careful,” she insisted. “I didn’t get into any trouble.” “What were you doing?” She folded her arms triumphantly and said, “I don’t have to tell you.” I huffed and turned away from her. “You have absolutely no idea how much damage you could have caused. What if another gang caught you?” “I stayed within the perimeters. They would have no reason to get me.” Helena grabbed my shoulder and pulled me to face her. “Don’t isolate me! I did nothing wrong!” My breath was cold and hard in my chest. My fury was quickly getting the better of me; I felt I would do anything to put her in her place. “You should have said to me where you were going.” “I don’t have to report to you.” Helena scowled. “You may think you’re more powerful than I am, but you’re not. You have no idea-“ “You have no idea, Helena!” I screamed. “You do this all the time! Cause problems for us, when life is already hard! You don’t understand this is a fight or die world! You’re still so caught up in your childish views that you just can’t see we had to grow up!” “You didn’t grow up!” she shot. “You just became less heartless!” “I matured to the situation! I became the woman I had to become!” Lillian stepped between us. “Stop it!” she hissed. “Just stop it! Fighting won’t get you anywhere. We’re not enemies to each other, remember?” Sometimes I wondered how a ten year old could be so much an adult. I bit my tongue, ground my teeth together, and turned from the room, resisting the growing urge to slam my fists into the wall as I went upstairs. I could still hear everyone whispering downstairs, and that wasn’t helping me much. I wasn’t used to being bossed around. I was the boss here, Alexander and I gave the rules, and people followed them with no fuss, no talking back and certainly no questions. Somewhere along the line I had forgotten how much Helena meant to me, and I had disregarded our friendship. We no longer talked, we hardly made eye contact, and that hurt, for a little while at least. Soon enough, I became immune to the pain and retreated into the background, emerging only to instruct my peers in their activities and duties. Besides Alexander, very few of the other members of the household treated me like a person. Funny how things can change. I threw myself onto our bed and wrestled with the pillow, thrashing at it and pummelling it with my fists until the case ripped. I rolled onto my stomach and buried my face in the sheets, a low growl escaping from my throat as I covered my ears from the whispers coming through the floor from the kitchen. The door gently slipped open, and I heard a soft familiar whisper. His hand stroked my back, and the mattress dropped as he sat down. “Faith?” Alexander said warmly in my ear. “Are you okay?” He had the heart. I had the head. “Why wouldn’t I be?” “You stormed off. That’s unlike you.” I took my head out from the pillow and looked at him, a cold hard look on my face that I rarely used on him. “I’m fine.” I said sternly. “Just drop it.” He held up both hands defensively. “Hey, don’t get at me. I’m the one who cares, remember?” That was true on so many levels. Nobody did care. I was the one who everybody feared, because I had the power to change the world that existed in this house. They listened to me because I made sense, not because I had respect. And that alone was beginning to slip. “Do you think I’m a heartless bitch?” I said blankly. He laughed. “No one said you were a heartless bitch.” “But do you?” “Of course not.” I sighed and shifted my legs beneath me. “Helena said I was heartless.” “She was angry,” Alexander insisted. “They don’t hate you.” “Helena does.” I rubbed my tired and sore eyes. I had captured a piece of grit in my left eye a few days ago, and it still hurt. “Why wouldn’t she? The only thing I ever did for her was to tell her what to do.” “I think you’re not looking at this from the right angle. You and Helena have grown apart, mostly from your different aspects of war. But I think, despite that, you can learn to love each other again.” I shook my head and thought about it for a while. “You could be right. Look, I just want some…” “I get it.” Alexander kissed my cheek and stood up. “Come down stairs when you’re ready.” For a moment I understood why Helena wanted to break away from the house. I wasn’t ready to go down stairs, but I knew in this house I could never really be alone. She probably just needed some alone time and couldn’t quite escape. Without thinking, I headed downstairs into the kitchen. Helena was sat at the table, looking gloomily into a cup of cocoa, stirring it round with her index finger. Mark and Imogene sat on the opposite side of the table, deep in a conversation about batteries. I ignored them and headed for my former best friend. Three years ago we were like sisters, now we were afraid to be in the same room in fear of hurting each other. She looked up at me, and I saw tears in her eyes. She smiled slightly. “Can we talk?” she said before I could. “I think we should.” “I’d like that.” I looked around at mark and Imogene. Oliver had just entered the room and Lillian was playing in the hall. There was no privacy here. “But…can we go somewhere else?” Helena nodded and we left the house, walking side by side, not touching and both looking at the floor. She led me down the road, towards the junkyard at the bottom of the street. The sun had set fully now, painting the world in a dull blue. Perfect settings for an ambush, I mentally added. I realised I felt naked and checked my pockets for my gun. It wasn’t there, but I didn’t want to strike up a fuss by running home and getting it. What would it hurt to leave once without a firearm? We entered the yard and settled ourselves on the bonnet of a rusting white VW beetle. Neither of us said anything for several minutes. I spared a glance at Helena and groaned. “This is ridiculous.” I stated. She nodded and sighed. “I think we need to get the problem out in the open.” I said, since Helena didn’t seem to want to contribute greatly. “What is the problem?” she asked. “I’m a self centered heartless egotistical and arrogant bitch? “That, but I think there may be something more.” I hadn’t expected her not to agree, but it still hurt. I buried my pride and said: “what else could it be?” She shrugged and picked a few paint flakes off the bonnet. “No idea.” “Our views on war?” I suggested desperately. Either Helena was making me suffer or she really had no idea. “It never bothered us before.” “It never mattered before.” “Who can argue with that?” We sighed simultaneously. “I’m sorry I yelled at you.” I said ashamed. “I was in the wrong. But I was worried. It wouldn’t be the first time one of us has been taken by another gang.” “I know. But I couldn’t stand being in the house any more. I was suffocating.” Helena had tears in her eyes and she couldn’t look at me properly. “I have no privacy. You’re lucky, you share a room with Alexander, and I share one with Adrienne, Bethany and Lillian. Adrienne is always bitching about everyone and Bethany always goes through her motherly act whenever I seem upset, and Lillian is always touching the few possessions I do have. Also,” –she sniffed- “today is James’s birthday.” She covered her face and buried it in her knees. I sat there in numb shock. I had known James fairly well from the time I had spent with Helena’s family. She was her older brother, and they were closer than any sibling bond I had ever seen. Not even Samuel and Bethany were as close as Helena and James had been. “Lena,” I shuffled myself to sit next to her and tensely hugged her. “I’m so sorry. I really am.” She sobbed into my shoulder for many minutes after that. I didn’t try to offer many condolences, as we both knew it would help little. I hadn’t been close with my brothers at all. I saw a boy peer around a pile of cars to look at us. Someone must have seen us enter the junkyard and sent him to follow. I stared closer and squinted, the boy saw me and hid quickly. I nudged Helena. “We have to move.” I whispered. “Someone’s spying at us.” “Who?” she asked, getting up suddenly. I dragged her back down and crawled behind the door of the beetle. “I don’t know. It’s not one of ours.” I cursed myself for forgetting my gun for about the tenth time in as many minutes. The neighbouring gangs weren’t as stupid as Helena was, they wouldn’t come out alone, especially so close to our house, which meant there must be more of them. A cold thought crossed my mind that if they had reached so close to the house without being spotted then they could have already taken everybody inside. Part of the idea of carrying a gun sow close to yourself when outside was to alert the people inside that you were in trouble. There was a strict rule in the house that no music could be played too loud in fear we might miss the sound of a gunshot. I reached for a piece of rusted metal on the muddy ground and held it close, not that it would do so much against a shot. I slipped out from behind the car door and inched along the rows of piled vehicles towards where the boy had been stood. I could see him ahead of me, looking the opposite way, talking to someone. I hadn’t a chance against two of them. I could hear Helena following behind me, presumably weapon less. I decided our best chance was to get back to the house and alert them, assuming they weren’t dead already. Cold. Calculating. My mind turned to that of a soldier. I thought about how long it would take me to silence the boy in front of me and duck back behind the cars, but that might alert his companion, decreasing my chances of surprising him in an attack. As the first boy began to turn towards me, I took my chance on pure gut instinct and lunged. I swung the bar high over my head, and forced it into contact with the back of the boy’s head. He moaned and fell to the floor, the back of his head stained with blood. I caught a glimpse into his eyes before he bowed before me, flattening himself to the floor. The second boy growled and gave a war cry, raising his arm towards me. I saw a small pistol clutched in his hand and he yelled, “halt!” in a panicked voice, waving the gun at me. I knew better than to stop, putting myself in that sort of position would not work in my favour, particularly against such a well-bodied boy as this. I ran forward, trying to knock the gun from his shaking hand with the bar. He stumbled, and I heard the gun crack. Then a pain in my side, ripping back the skin and forcing me to the floor. My only consolation was that the shot must have alerted someone at the house, and they would soon be heading my way with aid.
Copyright © 2005 Megan A Hennessey |