still a quiet child. Sometimes he would talk, but it was always about what they had unearthed that day, or what they could make out of the things that they found, even though the boy knew that their goal was mostly to trade the stuff in for supplies. When he did get going he would chatter non-stop for a while, and big plans of constructing flying ships or boats, or fortresses, would spill out.
But most of the time he was quiet.
"Do you understand?" Jack asked, finally looking up at Ryan.
Ryan nodded, but didn't speak. His gaze shifted between Jack and the wavering glow of the fire.
"Do you know who I am speaking of?" Jack asked. "The Hunters. The soldiers that come in the great ships and take people away. Do you know of those?"
"Yes," Ryan finally replied. "I've seen them."
"You have?" He was curious. The boy had never spoken of where he had come from before, even though he had asked questions. Ryan always clammed up, stopped talking, and Jack had taken the hint after a few attempts to at prising the information from the child.
Ryan smiled, but it wasn't a cheerful one. "Before the people who took my shoes," he said, "I hid from the soldiers in the street, but they weren't in a big ship. They were in a truck. I don't know who they were looking for, but they found someone and took them away. I was hiding over the street and they saw me. I ran and ran, and that's when I ran into the people who took my shoes."
He looked down at the boots that they had traded for. After finding the stash in the safe, Jack had made it a priority to get the boy new shoes, and it had cost dearly, but had been worth it.
"Th ese are much betterer boots," said Ryan. "They keep my feet warm."
"Better. Not betterer," Jack said, with a grin.
"Better," Ryan echoed.
"Well, then you know what they do. The Hunters? They hunt people down and take them. And if they find us - find me - you are to stay hidden and quiet. Do you get that?"
Another nod.
"You can't give yourself away, or cry out. If you do that then they will find you, too."
They sat in silence for a while.
"Then I would be alone," Ryan said, which took Jack by surprise. He hadn't considered that a child so young could think of such things.
"Well, you'll be alone one day anyway," Jack replied before even thinking about how morbid and pessimistic it would sound. "I'm much older than you, and I will get very old, one day. Too old to travel any longer."
More silence.
"You hide," Jack repeated. "And you stay hidden if they come. No noise, and maybe they won't find you."
Hunted
After two years, Jack still preferred betterer to better.
He sat in the dust and mould of the apartment, staring at the blank space where the magazines had been just a few minutes before, and listened to the distant sounds of the Hunters heading back to their vehicles. He could feel anger building up, burning in his gut.
An urge to follow the Hunters and take back what was his.
But what good would he achieve? he thought. They will just take you. He knew that no matter how angry he felt, how vengeful, he wouldn't get up and follow them. He wouldn't because he hadn't done it before. He knew that he was a coward, just as he had been that night.
Lost
Two years before...
Jack stood over the boy, towering above him, his voice raised, as he let the anger flood out. He didn't hit the kid, even though for the briefest of moments that urge surfaced. How dare he? This child that I've taken in and fed, and kept alive? How dare he draw his damn stick me in one of my magazines?
Jack looked down at the magazine, at the colourful pictures of the streets of the city whose glory was three centuries dead, and at the stick men that now stood in the street, crayon drawings that Ryan had probably thought would make the place look more real.
And he shouted, not even trying to be wary of others nearby, and the risk of drawing attention.
But then, after a few minutes, he stopped. The boy was staring at the ground, his face
But most of the time he was quiet.
"Do you understand?" Jack asked, finally looking up at Ryan.
Ryan nodded, but didn't speak. His gaze shifted between Jack and the wavering glow of the fire.
"Do you know who I am speaking of?" Jack asked. "The Hunters. The soldiers that come in the great ships and take people away. Do you know of those?"
"Yes," Ryan finally replied. "I've seen them."
"You have?" He was curious. The boy had never spoken of where he had come from before, even though he had asked questions. Ryan always clammed up, stopped talking, and Jack had taken the hint after a few attempts to at prising the information from the child.
Ryan smiled, but it wasn't a cheerful one. "Before the people who took my shoes," he said, "I hid from the soldiers in the street, but they weren't in a big ship. They were in a truck. I don't know who they were looking for, but they found someone and took them away. I was hiding over the street and they saw me. I ran and ran, and that's when I ran into the people who took my shoes."
He looked down at the boots that they had traded for. After finding the stash in the safe, Jack had made it a priority to get the boy new shoes, and it had cost dearly, but had been worth it.
"Th ese are much betterer boots," said Ryan. "They keep my feet warm."
"Better. Not betterer," Jack said, with a grin.
"Better," Ryan echoed.
"Well, then you know what they do. The Hunters? They hunt people down and take them. And if they find us - find me - you are to stay hidden and quiet. Do you get that?"
Another nod.
"You can't give yourself away, or cry out. If you do that then they will find you, too."
They sat in silence for a while.
"Then I would be alone," Ryan said, which took Jack by surprise. He hadn't considered that a child so young could think of such things.
"Well, you'll be alone one day anyway," Jack replied before even thinking about how morbid and pessimistic it would sound. "I'm much older than you, and I will get very old, one day. Too old to travel any longer."
More silence.
"You hide," Jack repeated. "And you stay hidden if they come. No noise, and maybe they won't find you."
Hunted
After two years, Jack still preferred betterer to better.
He sat in the dust and mould of the apartment, staring at the blank space where the magazines had been just a few minutes before, and listened to the distant sounds of the Hunters heading back to their vehicles. He could feel anger building up, burning in his gut.
An urge to follow the Hunters and take back what was his.
But what good would he achieve? he thought. They will just take you. He knew that no matter how angry he felt, how vengeful, he wouldn't get up and follow them. He wouldn't because he hadn't done it before. He knew that he was a coward, just as he had been that night.
Lost
Two years before...
Jack stood over the boy, towering above him, his voice raised, as he let the anger flood out. He didn't hit the kid, even though for the briefest of moments that urge surfaced. How dare he? This child that I've taken in and fed, and kept alive? How dare he draw his damn stick me in one of my magazines?
Jack looked down at the magazine, at the colourful pictures of the streets of the city whose glory was three centuries dead, and at the stick men that now stood in the street, crayon drawings that Ryan had probably thought would make the place look more real.
And he shouted, not even trying to be wary of others nearby, and the risk of drawing attention.
But then, after a few minutes, he stopped. The boy was staring at the ground, his face
Similar Books
A SEAL's Surrender (Alpha SEALs Book 3)
Makenna Jameison
Saint Goes West
Leslie Charteris
Angel Eyes
Loren D. Estleman
My Life in Dioramas
Tara Altebrando
Lost Boi
Sassafras Lowrey
Wolf Line
Vivian Arend
Wanted
Kym Brunner
Raw Material
Alan; Sillitoe