Piece Simul ✔

Chapter 1-A New Family

--D.T.S.: During the Storm

--Dura-Chamber Archive Scan * 098755

The boy watched as scores of polycarbonate flumes propelled from the base. He squinted from behind a grime-caked window as they flew past the clouds out of the Earth's atmosphere. There, among the silent stars, the ashen contents would drift in peace.

He envied them that.

"Boy!"

The booming voice carried from the other end of the warehouse. It was a drafty, dusty building. Some of the windows were broken, and the back door wouldn't latch all the way. Each corner smelled of urine. But, it was a place to lay their heads, for now. They were lucky to be alive.

The boy scurried to his caregiver, lest he be punished for responding too slowly again.

When he presented himself in front of the scruffy, lounging figure, he pushed down his fear. The man hated his sniveling.

"Yes, sir?"

"We need more wood for tonight's fire, unless you plan on eatin' those flumes you been watchin'."

The boy nodded, his head snapping back when the caregiver's palm slammed into his cheek.

"I taught you better than that, boy."

"Yes, sir," he said, tasting blood.

The caregiver assessed him with shrewd eyes. "I don't want to have to teach you anymore lessons. Tires me out."

At the mention of lessons, the boy tugged on his shirt sleeve in an effort to cover up the burns, though they would never be forgotten entirely.

"I'll be a better listener."

The caregiver reached out, and the boy flinched. Instead of hitting him, the caregiver caressed his cheek in a manner that chilled him to the bone.

"You'll be the best listener," the caregiver whispered. "Now go fetch the firewood."

Outside, the sun sank below the treeline. Daylight faded, edging into moonlight. The boy took longer than necessary to gather the wood. He knew the possible repercussions, but couldn't help it. He missed his friends. He missed having food made for him instead of scrounging for beech nuts and berries. He even missed the locker-room smell of the Dorms.

Better than smelling piss all the time.

Occasionally, he glanced back at the warehouse and contemplated running away. Then he remembered there was no where to run away to. Everyone who cared for him had died, the Dorms were raided and destroyed.

That asshole is all I have.

For a moment, he stopped walking, despair gripping his heart to the point of crippling him. He hugged himself, willing the tears away.

A distant shout brought him out of his pain and back into the present. Flashes of light filtered through the broken panes of the warehouse windows. One raucous cry rang out, then silence.

The boy dropped the wood and ran. Having seen and heard death before, he was no fool. His caretaker had met the fate the boy had only fantasized about. Still, the reality stunned and appalled him. He truly was alone now.

On his dash to nowhere in particular, the boy smacked into an unyielding figure. He slowly stepped back from the cloaked stranger, rubbing his stinging face. When the boy dared to peer up, a pair of iridescent emerald eyes stared back from the inside of a dark hood.

The fanatics had found them, the boy realized. It didn't matter that they ran, or how far.

To that end, the boy remained. He was frozen by fear, and curiosity. Shouldn't I be dead by now? From the sound of it, his caregiver hadn't been given time to escape or deliberate.

Yet, this figure stood, waiting for something.

The boy couldn't stand the ambiguity. Haltingly, he asked, "Are---are you---gonna kill me?"

The reply emerged from the dark hood, spoken kindly but firmly, "I can tell you're strong, not like the rest."

"Like the rest you..." the boy hesitated, then pushed out the word, "...killed?"

This elicited a surprised chuckle from the stranger. "We tried to save them. Like we saved you from that terrible, weak man." A hand extended from the folds of the cloak. "You'll never be hurt like that again."

He considered the scabbed-over burns. Even as the government urged against joining the Green-Eyed, they couldn't be that bad. Not if they were willing to save a kid.

The boy took the stranger's hand.