The Forsaken - The Apocalypse Trilogy: Book Two (27 page)

37 - Orphans

The hard bruising arms and grunting, groaning
song rolled on and on, and the chanting, droning music pulsed to
the jarring rhythm of movement. It brought her screaming out of a
nightmare with dog stink still in her face.

She sat bolt upright, eyes flashing open onto
a glaring overhead light. Everything around her fell to shadow. She
was in a bed with a coarse wool blanket tucked around. The light
had the down on her arms glinting golden, and caused her skin to
glow; but it created a contrast that dropped the bedclothes into
inky blackness. She wore a nightshirt of thick white flannel the
same color as her sheets.

Dawn peered into the darkness, squinting her
face up against the glare of light and was met by a sudden childish
tittering. Giggles rolled around her bed like a wave. She squinted
harder and leaned forward, and this only caused another wave of
laughter to pass.

“She looks like a grampus squidging his eyes
at Nursie’s bum!” a boy’s voice said and laughter followed.

Now Dawn put a hand flat over her eyebrows,
hoping the shade would let her see.

More giggling followed. “Now,” laughed
another voice. “Now she’s an old Indian scout looking for buffalo!”
The giggles grew in intensity until another voice started hushing
them.

Dawn’s eyes continued to adjust, and she was
soon able to make out movement and forms in the gloom beyond the
light.

“Shush,” continued a girl’s voice, it was a
little coarse, but it was high-pitched like her own. “You had your
laugh, now stop it. It ain’t easy when you first pop your eyes open
here, if you remember?” And at that someone moved forward out of
the darkness.

Dawn shifted back against her pillows and
quickly realized the head of her bed was against the wall. “Wait!”
she said, too terrified to think of anything else. The grownup
voice in her head didn’t say anything. Sometimes it just watched
and listened.

A small girl materialized out of the shadow.
She was shorter than Dawn and her body and limbs were thinner. She
did have chubby cheeks, but Dawn realized that might have been her
heritage, since she was clearly from the Far East or “Old China” as
Mr. Jay would have called it.

The girl smiled and said, “I am Meg.” She
laughed, there was not a trace of an accent.

“I’m Dawn,” said the forever girl. Her
grownup voice suddenly chimed in.
You don’t need to say
more
.
NO MORE
! “Where am I?” she asked; Meg’s eyes
sparkled, and then Dawn blurted: “Where’s Mr. Jay?”

Meg shrugged. “You are in the Prime’s
Orphanage.” She gestured left and right. “Dormitory Five. The
Toffers brought you.”

“But…” Dawn started, and tears burst from her
eyes. “He’s my only friend in the whole world!” She pulled her
covers up. “I’ve got to go find him!” Weeping, she pushed her
blankets down and started to climb out of the bed. Meg put her
hands out to stop her, and it was then that Dawn could see that
other forever kids were standing back in the shadows, lots of them.
They were dressed the same as she, but were of all shapes and
sizes. There were so many, she suddenly recoiled from Meg’s touch
and pulled herself back under the blankets.

“Go away!” she cried, and whipped the blanket
over her head.

“Go away!” a childish voice mocked and was
hushed.

“What a Squeaker!” said another voice, this
one a girl’s. “Squeak! Squeak!”

“It’s okay,” Meg kept talking. “Stay under
the blankets and listen. You’re not the first to do it.”

Dawn only shivered. Her face was soaked with
tears.

“You’re in the Prime’s Orphanage,” Meg
explained, “But we mostly call it only ‘Orphanage.’” The girl
paused. “And you were brought in on your lonesome by a group of
Toffers that looked worse for wear, like there’d been a fight.” She
laughed then. “Which all of us were happy to see, since most of us
had trouble with them in the past.” A few other forever kids
chuckled.

And suddenly Dawn remembered Liz and the
other kids with guns and the fight. Mr. Jay must have returned to
the hideout and found her missing. At first she wanted to cry even
harder, but the grownup voice in her head reassured her.
Mr. Jay
will look for you
.

“The Orphanage is where the Prime keeps us,”
Meg said. “And where he teaches us, and tests us, and even makes
some of us his daughters.” Her eyes rolled toward the floor and
flush colored her cheeks. “Or his wives…”

Dawn lowered her blanket a little and peered
out.

Now her eyes could see the others around her
bed, the reflected light diffused. There were boys and girls,
black, yellow, white, red and brown. And they were tall and short
and fat and thin, and all wearing flannel nightshirts against the
chill. Some of the kids had scars like knife marks on their faces
and arms, and others had shiny bits of skin and ribbons of it on
their flesh. And some of the kids looked happy, and some looked
sad.

Dawn shook her head and said: “I want Mr.
Jay!”

A couple of kids laughed, but most of their
faces echoed her sadness. Meg just patted the blanket on her bed.
“Unless he’s a friend of the Prime, that ain’t going to happen.”
Dawn looked down at the back of Meg’s hand. It was crisscrossed
with silver scars. “The Orphanage ain’t a place people like us are
allowed to leave.”

Dawn tried to stifle another weepy yawn. “But
I want Mr. Jay!”

A couple of the other kids started to tear
up. Then a solid looking black boy stepped up close and stuck a
finger into Dawn’s face. His cheeks were scarred and he was missing
an ear.

“Just shut up you stupid squeaker! SQUEAK!
SQUEAK!” he shouted. “Squeaker’s making everybody sad!”

“That’s enough, Larry!” Meg said, “She’s
scared.”

“Who cares,” the boy said, “We’re all fucking
scared.” Then he slapped at Meg’s hand as she attempted to quiet
him. “Don’t shush me!” He swung back to Dawn. “Nobody gets out of
the Orphanage.
Ever
! Unless you go with Nursie. So get used
to it!”

The boy punched the blanket when Dawn curled
herself under it. She could hear Meg scolding him, and then other
kids’ voices were raised in anger. Someone was crying. There were
sounds of a struggle.

Dawn just tried to focus on her friend’s
face, and she cried for the many years they’d spent together. She
tried to remember Nurserywood, and old Arthur, and she wondered
what
he
would do to get out.

“Oh Mr. Jay,” she sobbed into the blanket.
“Where are you?”

38 – Nightcare

The man looked different from what the
Creature expected. Then she checked herself. He
felt
different. The physical impressions she’d received over the decades
were of the man who stood in front of her.
Yes
. He was just
six feet, his beard, flecked with gray, shoulder-length hair, top
hat and coat tails were familiar. Broad cheeks, straight nose and
the eyes were right. What was different?

Then she decided perhaps it was the set of
his features. There were marks of violence on his clothing: bloody
tears in his pants. But that wasn’t the cause. She sensed anger,
which had never been in her visions, and he radiated a sour feeling
of reluctance. He didn’t want to be here. That was different from
what she expected.

She sensed something different in Conan too.
His little fighter’s body stood beside the stranger, the
guest
, she corrected herself; but Conan’s figure, usually a
tight twist of muscle, rage and armor, was unusually calm.
Something had happened between them. He was calm, and he smelled of
tears.

“The Creature welcomes the man to the
Nightcare,” the Creature said. The word “welcome” was echoed in a
chorus from child to child as the other forever children had
gathered in a great semicircle behind her. It was their way, the
echo—the chorus—of sharing power.

The phenomenon was not lost to the visitor.
He smiled, and let his eyes follow the echo among the children.
Then he removed his hat and bowed at the waist.

“The Creature trusts,” the Creature started.
“And the Nightcare trusts.”

“Trust,” echoed among the children.

“The Creature thinks you were injured by
friend, Conan,” she continued. The Creature sat, as was her way at
the center of a great circular floor comprised of treaded iron
plating. There were holes and vents in the floor that admitted the
sounds of distant rushing water far below. The Creature’s seat was
raised on a pile of extra plates neatly piled. The flooring made
for a noisy addition, but the proximity to the lower levels of the
Maze made the meeting place perfect for the Nightcare. There were
many, many ways of escape, and they always had to be careful of the
Toffers and the Sheps.

“No,” the stranger said, remarkably reaching
down and squeezing Conan’s shoulder. “My friend only showed me his
bravery, and led me here.”

A moment of dismay passed. The Creature knew
of Conan’s history and his torment in the Bad house. For a
stranger, a
ma
n especially, to be able to lay hands on him
was indeed remarkable. It was as her visions foretold.

“The Creature thinks that is well,” the
Creature said. “It is not our way to harm, but it is the way of
others to encourage inhospitality.” She nodded, and the stranger
nodded back as the word “inhospitality” circled the enclosure on
children’s tongues.

The stranger’s eyes glistened momentarily,
and he rubbed at his forehead with the back of his hand. The
Creature saw a new scar on the skin of his palm. This caused her to
lurch upright in her seat, but the stranger was dismissive.

“It’s okay,” he said, looking at his palm and
rubbing it, “I heal quickly.”

The word “heal” was transferred around the
room. This was something of note to the Creature. The Nightcare
rarely echoed the words of strangers.

“The Creature saw your need, and sent
fighters to help your friend—the girl,” the Creature said smiling,
as the word “friend” echoed from child to child. “But they were
unable to extricate her in time.”

The word “extricate” started around the room
in garbled fashion at first, finally becoming a mishmash of
syllables and giggles. The Creature gave them a sobering look and
they quieted.

“The Creature sees the Toffers captured her.”
She shook her head sadly, voice lowering. “Had they not Sheps with
them, the Creature’s fighters would have succeeded.”

“What are Toffers?” the stranger asked,
noticing there was no echo of
that
word. “And Sheps?”

“The Creature knows that
Toffers
are
Truant Officers employed by the Prime for his orphanage,” the
Creature explained, the forever children around her were silent.
One of them started crying. An
actual
echo followed her
words. “And they use Shepherds like dogs to sniff out the children.
But they are not dogs.”

The stranger looked downcast a moment, then
he raised his gaze. “You know what they really are?”

“The Creature sees the Demonkind,” the
Creature said quietly. A palpable shiver ran through the collection
of children. Many of them came from the Orphanage, and most had
seen the Toffers. “They are controlled by the Prime as hunters and
collectors. They used to go about in the skins of men and animals,
but their power must be growing for they do not hide their shapes
as they once did.”

“I was afraid of that.” The stranger nodded
anxiously. He looked at his hands and then straightened his
shoulders. “Forgive me, please, but I have overlooked
introductions.” He cleared his throat. “I am called, Mr. Jay, a
magician from the north. I came to the City in the company of a
girl named, Dawn. She is under my protection.”

Giggles suddenly started in the ranks of the
collected children, but these were silenced by a look from the
Creature.

“It’s okay.” The stranger appreciated the
irony, raising his hands. “I know.” He shrugged and squeezing
Conan’s shoulder again said, “Had she Conan for a protector, I’m
sure things would have been different.”

The word “different” echoed among the forever
children.

“The Creature says that she is called the
Creature by friends of the Nightcare,” the Creature said this,
standing up in front of her chair, allowing her patched and worn
dress and ivory cloak to flow to her ankles. “The Nightcare
children have asked the Creature to lead them in these dark times,
and she does so gladly.” She lifted her palms, and the word
“Creature” ran through their ranks, echoing off the steel deck
plating. She was moved to hear such feeling in their voices. Tears
formed in her eyes and passed.

“As such, the Creature is entrusted with
their care,” she smiled and stepped down from her chair to the
plated floor. She moved toward the man. The Creature was twelve and
a half when the Change came and had been locked for a century in a
body that was not a child and that was not an adult. She believed
this suspension between realities was what gave her the gift of
sight. “But she has long awaited your coming, as have they. You are
a dubious guest, Mr. Jay, for her visions say you offer the end of
something and the beginning of something.” She smiled and let her
hands fall at her sides. “But the Creature sees that this is
life.”

Mr. Jay shook his head and opened his arms.
The Creature felt a troubled mood cloud his mind. “I am not
responsible for the way the wind blows. I just have to get Dawn
back and get the hell out of the City.” He looked around saying,
“If you’re smart, you’ll do the same.”

“The Creature understands and sees that,” the
Creature said, drawing near and looking up. She was just under five
feet tall. “But she did not foresee it.” The word “foresee” echoed
around the circular room. “Which is disturbing to her.”

“I’m finished with the City once I get Dawn,”
the magician said and shrugged. “You know the weight of
responsibility.” The word “responsibility” echoed, his eyes looked
up nervously. “It was a great weight I carried at another time.” He
looked down at his hands. “And I will not carry more than
Dawn.”