Diana and her child made their way through the darkening streets, the evening sun looming above them like a timer. Alexander soon saw himself distracted from his booming thoughts as the shadows around him crept closer. It was hard to focus on his hatred when a more primeval emotion was running its course through him.
Fear was something that the boy was well accustomed too, his mind and body interacting with it on nearly a daily basis. He knew the signs and knew the things he would have to do to cope. The quickening of his pulse was the only sign Diana could not see outwardly, but she could pick up everything else. The way he held himself seemed to shrink, to shy away from the shadows that moved closer. His pace increasing with every passing moment.
Alexander, though he would never admit it, had been affected by his adventure beyond the walls. While he had always given the night its fair share of respect, he had never had such a close encounter before. He still was not completely healed, and with his missing arm he never would be. The mad dash through the tunnels, the brief scuffle in the dark, the last moments on that hill of rubble. All of those scenes were burned permanently into his mind’s eye, every second stretched as his recalled them. The sun shrinking beyond the horizon seemed to mirror that fateful night, and his body instinctively responded to what it perceived as a prediction of what was to come.
Diana noticed the change right away in her child. She had been holding out hope that his strong spirit would shelter from the worst of the mental effects, but even she could see the signs. She had seen them before, many times in the groups of survivors she had once lived with. People who had just been pushed too far by the wastes, their nerves completely shot, and some part of their psyche shattered. Most just grew incredibly frightened of the mutants, refusing to leave the safety of the walls for any reason. Some seemed to manifest obsessions, seemingly at random, and would forever covet certain items. Others would develop unshakeable patterns or addictions, living their life in the wastes with rigid regimented activity.
Alexander was developing one of the more common fears that seemed to taint the world they now inhabited. A fear of the dark. Her son, who had always been capable and stoic, was beginning to shiver at her side as they moved. It broke her heart, adding to the scars on that already struggling organ. The respect for the darkness she had instilled in him was being replaced by a panic. A fear. Something that would control him for the rest of his days, and there was nothing she could do about it. The fear wasn’t an irrational one, on the contrary in the world they now lived in it was almost necessary. He had always tread carefully in the dark, now he just had firsthand experience on what would happen if he ever slipped up.
The stump of Alexander’s arm ached as his eyes began to flicker at the darkened alleyways surrounding him. The slow movement of his mother’s arm around one shoulder, codling him softly and pulling him closer as they walked was the only thing slowing his heartbeat.
He tried to use exercises his father taught him, ways of breathing or thinking that would settle his firing nerves, but nothing but his mother’s presence seemed to help in that moment. Alexander’s new fear was a powerful one, the phobia that it precluded just another injury that the mutants had caused him that night.
When night fully set, and the streets darkened to levels Alexander could barely comprehend, the nature of the community he now lived in took on a dramatic change. From darkened doorways, and from the grates in the streets below movement began to stir. One by one, as humans began to filter into their homes to sleep, their masters awoke.
Nicholas was the only Other Alexander had ever seen, but the similarities were instantly recognizable. All that he saw seemed to ignore him, their bat like features oriented towards the world around them. Golden eyes seemed to see right through him, elongated ears bounced as each walked not even bothering to turn to address him as the two humans passed them by.
Their screaming calls soon filled the air, clawing at his nerves ever harder as they began to communicate with each other. Maws filled with sharpened teeth glistened in the faint starlight as the beasts began their nightly activities. They picked up where humans left off, a single creature taking over where teams of humans had been before. They guided the thralls where free humans had once done so, they began to sell wares to each other, and tend to the market stalls that stood along the street serving both human and other patrons now.
Alexander now understood why there were no walls around the community. Why no mutant would dare to hunt the humans that lived there. The creatures that lived below, that scurried in the dark here were of a different sort. This was their territory, and as more and more began to pool in the street around him the boy realized just how different the society he had been thrust into truly was.
The humans he had seen before had only been a fraction of the populace, and though the community they formed was bigger than Alexander had ever heard of, the bat like masters they served seemed to only inflate that number ever larger.
Eventually his mother led the two of them to their destination. What was once a tall apartment building, had once again been repaired to suit its former purpose. Flapping fabric served to cover the shells of old windows, but most of the doorways were empty. Diana led her son up one set of stairs, half lifting him up the uneven walkway as she led him to their new home.
Each room they passed was uniform, a small family unit gathering around a small flame, or sitting upon old dusty mattresses on the floor. The looks they got as they moved upwards varied from openly spiteful, to complete disregard. Alexander met each pair, his eyes drinking in and reflecting the emotions he encountered. Once he was out of the night and in the faintly lit building he began to feel much better. His panic began to subside, the fire light that filtered into the concrete hallways warming his spirit just as it warmed his flesh. Every angry gaze he got, was received with a grimace and a glare, Alexander’s eyes narrowing as he sneered.
Those that ignored him, he simply ignored as well, but by the time they had finally reached their destination on the top floor of the tower, he was sure he had already made some enemies among its other inhabitants. He had identified those he should be wary of almost immediately, catching a glimpse at the violence and desperation in their eyes. It was a trick Alexander had quickly picked up whenever foreign traders had come to visit their old home.
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The individuals you had to be the most wary about were those who were open about their violent character, and when confronted with another person of their calibre didn’t back down. Most people Alexander had returned a glare too, would flinch, turning away and back to their families. But there were a handful who kept his gaze, sizing him up with a hunger that would have chilled him to the bone if he hadn’t been doing the very same.
Alexander was quickly learning how the society around him worked. Every level was made up of predators. Those at the top preyed on those below them, the Others preying on any humans that wished to do so. Those who didn’t want to become thralls had two choices. Either make themselves useful, or make others seem to be more tantalizing offers. Both required a stony heart, for either way you were dooming another.
The gazes who had met his, that had challenged his came from those who had survived in the camp from doing just that. To live in this apartment building, to have a flame to cook their meager supplies on, they had earned it by ruining the lives of another human. And they knew it, and were sizing him up to do the same if needed.
Those that looked away from him were at least ashamed about it, hiding their greed and survival instincts from the gaze of the boy. Alexander found himself respecting those who were openly distrustful and predatory towards him more, at least they were honest to themselves about it.
The room Alexander found himself in was incredibly sparse. Three dirty mattresses were laid out on the ground, and they served as the only furniture. On the floor was a small metal bin that seemed to serve as the family’s fire pit. Alexander could see his father gun laying propped up against the window, hidden only by the billowing fabric that served as a curtain. The air was filled with the smoke of the many other cooking fires, but the gentle wind that entered the room was enough to dissipate the worst of it.
Muffled sounds of voices reached Alexander ears as both him and his mother made themselves comfortable, the boy pulling a mattress close to one window and placing himself upon it while his mother began to place some fuel upon the fire.
A moment later and flickering light filled the room, soon followed by a sizzling noise as a skillet was placed over it. The two sat in silence as Diana began to cook their meal, using supplies pulled from the satchel she kept by her side. Strangely twisted root vegetables were sliced into chunks with a sharpened blade, a tiny package of meat added and filling the air with a rich scent.
Alexander knew better than to ask what kind of meat it was. The answer, if he was even given it, wouldn’t matter. He would still eat it. Meat was a luxury that couldn’t be ignored no matter where it was sourced from. His travels in the dark when the first of the others had opened their markets had told him enough to know that he would probably hate the answer anyways.
Lifting the fabric at the window slightly he peered out into the dark, the flickering light behind him illuminating the world around him. He was a dozen stories in the air, but the view he was given could hardly be described as enjoyable. Most of the buildings surrounding the building he inhabited were pitch black, but every so often he would see a flicker of light as either wind or action caused a curtain to stir.
Soon his attention was turned from the buildings to the city streets below him, his eyes drawn to the action that seemed to be continually occurring there. Now that he was in the safety of the light he could study it more intently, his mind no longer panicked drinking in everything that met his eyes.
He saw the patterns of the society forming below him, the groups operating together easily seen from on high. Guards patrolled the streets, heavily armed, and with a contingent of thralls, Alexander could see them hunting through the darkened streets. They searched every darkened corner and cranny, every opening that could hide a mutant cleared before they moved on. Every so often Alexander would hear a gunshot echoing off in the distance, though he never saw any of the guards in action from his window.
The smallest portion of the market was also visible from his window, though he tried to avoid staring too long. The sight sickened him, and sent his stomach spirally with every moment spent gazing at it. In the darkness and at the distance he now observed from, he could only see the fuzziest shapes of those at the market but Alexander had seen them up close only minutes before.
Thralls stood upon wooden stages, their vacant eyes peering out into the night as crying bids echoed around them. He had seen the bats selling them, the strange coins that had been exchanged as commerce was done. He saw men, women, and children led away with a gesture or a squeaking command, following their new masters into the dark.
Diana called him, gesturing to the bowl of food she had scooped for him a few moments before, but had to stand and whack him on the back of his head as he ignored her. Almost dragging him away from the window she forced him to sit by the fire and eat with her in silence, both of them staring into the flames as they chewed on the tough meat.
Footsteps would draw their attention away as a figure made his way into the room, dropping a heavy medical bag by the doorway as he did so. Alexander recognized the golden frames clamped around the figure’s nose almost immediately, as his father joined the pair for dinner. Diana greeted the man with a warm smile, the fierce eyes that had been focused on her son melting as the man made his entrance.
Alexander had never seen the man dressed like he was, the white fabric of the coat around his father’s shoulders unnervingly close to the one Nicholas had worn. Black slacks covered the rest of his pale form, though the dirt that had once always been a part of the man’s appearance had seemingly been washed away. The man mumbled something about being late, but soon made his way to his son’s side.
As reunions went, it was a much cooler affair. Alexander’s eyes were hard, unfeeling as his father grinned. He brooded through the hug that was forced onto him, and tried to ignore the words that his father spoke. The boy still blamed his father for the situation they now found themselves in, but he felt his resolve shake slightly as the hands that gripped him tightened.
Doctor Pisk shook softly as he held his child, words spilling from his mouth as he held his son in a tight hug, “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, “I shouldn’t have left you. I shouldn’t have put you through that. I’m so sorry.” It took some shoving, Alexander’s arm working to extract himself from his father’s embrace, to free the boy.
The two stood, staring at each other. One set of eyes filled with tears and regret, though tinged with pride as he regarded his son. The other set filled with betrayal and angst, the potent rage of a son against his fool of a parent.
The moment was broken as Diana swore, flicking a bit of root off one finger towards her son. The offending food stuff bounced off Alexander face harmless, though he winced, his mother’s voice filling his ears a moment later, “No attitude, we’ve all been through a lot, I don’t need you to be looking at your father like that. One more fuckin’ thing for me to deal with.”
Alexander pouted, a protest silenced by Diana a moment later as the family unit was once again restored. An hour later laughter filled the small room, Alexander telling and retelling his tale, his mother and father filling in their ends of the story. They discussed what happened that day, but all of them ignored the looming presence above their heads.
They ignored their sons missing arm, just as they ignored their missing member. Though they grinned at each other, each registered the fear, the wariness, and the sadness in the other’s eyes. The family was whole once again, minus one arm, freedom, and a six month old infant.