Existing (under editing)

Chapter 18*

We were blindfolded as soon as the wall closed. Our worlds plunged into darkness. Fabric was tied tightly around my head. I clung for Alma's shaking hand, holding it tight and reassuring for her. Pulling her close as the person pushed us. A rough hand held my back making it difficult to hold on to Alma. The crunch of dirt under our feet turned into more of a concrete.

"My names Mitsugi. Will be your tour guide for today." he joked as we walked. "Over there you'll see concrete, over there, concrete and to our right, oh! Guess what. Concrete. Can't wait to get out of this place."

I felt sorry for the guy. He wasn't that much older them me. I remember for sure because he was the boy I remembered, the one that lost his eye for the parrot.

"Grumpy old man you are, squawk! Grumpy old man." the parrot chirped. Mitsugi shushed him and we kept walking.

It was really sad though. For five minutes straight the bird was chirping to itself, "I want to fly, I want to fly," to a repetitive tune, and I knew he couldn't. Not after what the guards did to him. I was surprised he actually survived it. But I kept moving, keeping my head down. Who knows what has changed since I've been gone. It took us a while to get there. After a while the air became cold as we moved away from the heat of the sun in what seemed to be in-between the buildings before finally entering inside one. It wasn't till five twists and turns latter did we enter an actual door. Then we can to a grinding halt. Silence.

"Who we got here." I heard a female voice say. The tone so familiar. "Remove the blindfolds; I want to see our smart guest's faces."

As they untied the knot, my eyes started to adjust to the dim lighting of the dark candle lit room of the inside of an office building on its side. Probably one of the fallen towers. The smell of smoke was overpowering and dust heavy in the air. People in shaggy clothes surrounded us. Their faces dirty and body's looking malnourished. Some bandaged and bruised, all tanned from years of overworking. No children in sight. Some had weapons others had simple things such as ropes or shovels. Many were men but the women that did stand here watching were old and tough. They all sneered at us as we were stood in the centre, light beaming down from the roof, too bright to see its origin. It wasn't until I managed to regain my sense of visual perception was I able to see the leader of this group.

She slouched on a throne made of broken concrete slabs and cushioned with animal skins. Lazily and unmoving. Her poise defensive but relaxed, head high. She was dressed in black battle gear which other people scattered around us seemed to be wearing too, but hers was adorned with more belt buckles. Strapped to her all over her body were knives and guns to each one. But the one she seemed most proud of which wasn't carried, but rested across her lap, a huge thick claymore. It sat in its make shift cover as she played with the shining handle. Her hair black and long, falling over her chest, dead straight down to her hips from its high pony tail. I could barely see her face in the dark but her eyes, a strange orange that glowed like a cats in the light, looking Alma first, up and down. No emotion displayed in her shadowed features. Then as she turned to me, realisation showed as her brows lifted from her frown and she sat up and forward in her seat.

"Lucas?" The way she said my name showed recognition. I remembered. As her face came into view she placed he sword down sitting up and squinting her eyes. Her face had grown much more serious and her character of leader strength had grown, but I would never forget her.

"Hey Ember." I greeted my sister.

A voice came from the crowd. A woman pushing her way through, almost falling out of the crowd. She yelled my name and embraced me in a huge hug almost nocking me over. Her frail arms patting me down as if to test that I was real.