A Clockwork Green Ch. 06

With a cacophony of shrill cries, a horde of small humans pour out of the alley across the street. Small humans with brown cloth tied to their arms. Another of the men in front of me drops after a blow to the head, and suddenly there are only two still standing. They throw up their hands to shield themselves and each take a step back under the hail of debris. After a brief shared look, they bolt.

"Come on," urges a heavily freckled boy. Two of the taller kids scoop me up by my shoulders and get me to my feet.

"Hi Mack!" Tubbins smiles toothily at me. They hustle me down the street. Behind us, Peace officers are beginning to arrive.

"Don't worry," the boy says. "In this neighborhood, no one saw anything." He can't seem to decide if that's a good thing or a bad thing as they carry me into an abandoned building.

Once, I bet this had been a very pretty hotel. The lobby area is incredibly spacious, and the front desk is a massive, finely-crafted, wooden monstrosity. Of course, the front desk is the only thing left, probably because it's too big to do anything else with. The walls are marred with holes where fixtures and lamps were ripped out mercilessly. My little posse moves through the lobby with purpose, turning down one hallway after another.

"They came for me," I say, as I finally start to get my feet under me again. "I thought they were coming for you guys, but they were there for me. I thought I was helping..."

The light from the open door behind us is barely enough to see in the dusty basement hallway. A series of bulbs farther down desperately attempt to come alive, but die out before giving any significant visibility. I summon a tiny Kite, and it floats in the air above me. I wince from the effort, but I guess I'm not as exhausted as I'd thought I was.

One of the younger girls runs over to a wrought iron gate. A thick chain is woven between the bars, but the padlock holding it in place falls open as soon as she puts her fingers to it. Clever little bastards... She yanks out the chain, discards it on the floor, and slides the gate open. I walk over to the edge and peer up and down an empty elevator shaft. The Kite floats out into the center of it, but the meager light it casts reaches neither the top nor bottom. She deftly reaches around inside the shaft, grabs hold of something out of sight, and swings herself inside. I peek in after her and scoff.

"A ladder? Really?" I point to my shoulder and give the crowd behind me an incredulous look.

"It's the only way," says the younger girl. "Take my hand." She helps me until I get a foot over, and starts down ahead of me. I send the kite down below of her and take my time. My shoulder is a throbbing knot, but I can do most of the work with my legs and right arm. It takes about 20 minutes to reach the bottom .

The elevator shaft lets out onto something like a train platform. I hunker down against a wall and pant while the rest of the group catches up. One by one, the kids gather in a group, peering at me in turns while putting their heads together out of earshot. I tentatively press on the entry wound in my shoulder, and a cold shock breaks over my body. The Kite, still floating in the air above me, flashes brightly for a moment.

All the children turn expectantly towards the freckled boy when he drops down from the ladder, but he in turn frowns at me. I have to fight down the urge to be indignant; that I didn't ask for their help and didn't need it. Of course I needed it. I was fucked. "So who do I have to thank for saving my life back there?"

"I told them you were nice," Tubbins says, squeezing between two taller girls. "I told them, and Scratch told them."

"Cut it out, shrimp." I think that's Scratch, but I didn't get a great look at his face before and the lighting isn't great now. "Let Raphe talk."

The freckle-faced boy, Raphe, raises his chin slightly. He stands a few inches taller than me. He's thin, but not gawky or awkward. Mostly though, I'm drawn to his eyes. There's more going on behind his eyes than I have words to describe. Above all others, I see disdain. "I didn't want to, but Sera insisted."

"Which one of you is Sera then?"

"I am," says a fair haired girl just finally descending the ladder. "Sorry for the delay, but I had to replace the chain and lock from the inside. It's time consuming." Sera is just slip of a thing, but there is a warmth to her. Her smile touches every feature on her face, from her forehead down to her chin. Her hands are clasped before her, and she seems to glow. "And you are Mack?"

I grimace and launch myself off the wall. The room lurches briefly, but I find my balance sooner rather than later. "Yes. I... uh... thanks..."

"You're welcome..." She pauses, looking down and away. "... but I must admit we were hoping you would be able to help us out in return."

"See, look! She doesn't want to help us! We're nothing to her!" I hadn't realized I'd made a face, but I suppose I might have recoiled slightly. If I'm being honest. Sera smiles softly at him, and Raphe quiets down.

"We are struggling. Raphe and I have been... supporting the others as best we can." Raphe colors dramatically, and stares at the floor. "But we're getting older and it's starting to show."

"I wanted to help too, but they won't let me," Tubbins shouts.

"You don't know what you're saying," Raphe says over his shoulder. "You're too young."

I lick my lips and frown. "You're... are you... prostituting yourselves?" Raphe turns an even deeper red, made all the more stark against his freckled complexion.

"Just the two of us," Sera says. Her gaze is much steadier. "We don't allow the others to help."

"We get food and stuff sometimes!"

"You're right, Scratch. And we're very thankful for your help!" Scratch beams at the praise, and Sera continues. Her smile falters for a moment "It was always a bad choice, but it was the best one we had."

I'm deeply uncomfortable, and I think it shows. "Ok, look. I can't make you guys any promises. I'm hurt, and I need to get home. When we get there, we can talk this over with my girl Charlotte."

"She makes the decisions, huh?" Raphe's smirk melts away, and he takes a step back.

"We can use these tunnels to get you home," Sera interjects, as she steps in between us. "They criss-cross the city, with hundreds of stations like this one scattered here and there."

"My... shop is on... um... Durbanville."

"Near a boarded-over concrete block?"

"...yeah. That's across the street."

"Follow us." One by one, the kids hop down in between the tracks.

The line slows to a stop. Tubbins had been leading the way but he stopped, and the rest of us slowly pile in around him. The tunnel we'd been following dumps out into a massive chamber, easily a half mile across if not more. Dozens of tracks connect and depart in as many directions. This must have been some kind of hub.

"Well did you see any of them," Raphe says as I creep into earshot

"No but look!" Tubbins points emphatically. I try to follow his finger, Nothing jumps out at me, but Sera takes a sharp breath. "Deadies were here!"

"They might have just left that there," he says dismissively.

"What are we looking at," I say, "and who are the deadies?"

Sera leans in close next to me and points directly at a motor car peeking out of a tunnel just like the one we're in on the opposite side of the hub. "Two problems. One, that engine shouldn't be there. Two, the Deadies mostly stick to the tunnels under Elysia and Havenwood. If they're spreading down in Valhavia..." She gives Raphe a meaningful look.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. We weren't gonna last much longer on our own. I know!"

"Who are the Deadies?"

"They're homeless too, but something's wrong with them," Tubbins says.

"I don't know how to describe it any better," Sera says, frowning.

"They might not be that bad," says a girl next to me who's been quiet the whole time. "They have food!"

Tubbins tugs on my sleeve, and when I lean over, he whispers in my ear. "Nobody ever comes back."

"Lets just keep moving," Raphe says, "nice and quiet." We slink along the edge of the hub, and my heart rate doesn't come down for quite a while

It's the middle of the night when I kick through the woodboard covering. The kids manage to cobble it back into place over the disused entrance without too much trouble, and we slip back to the shop unseen. They all pile into our lobby area, taking up in the few chairs we keep, or else leaning against the counter. Tubbins tries to look up at me, belatedly slapping the back of the helmet against his head so he isn't staring into it, and smiles. Oh, he's gonna be trouble. Nothing this cute comes without a price tag.

A creak in the stairs behind me puts the hairs on the back of my neck up, and I turn just in time to see Charlotte swing around the corner with her shotgun out and loaded. "Wait," I cry, as I leap in front of Tubbins with my arms raised.

"Mackenzie! Where in the name of the Gods have you been?!" Her exasperation is palpable.

"Go on," I say, pointing towards the shop door. "Everyone wait in there."

"Mackenzie," she says insistently.

"I have no idea, Char. I honestly don't. Some kind of tunnels?"

"I was worried sick!"

"Yeah, I know."

She makes a face. I don't know how to read it, but it feels significant. Perturbed, maybe? She sighs and rests her shotgun back against her shoulder. Damn... Her thin pajama bottoms and night shirt are-

"Down girl," she says with a sigh as she brushes past me into the garage.

"We are gonna have a conversation about this later," I say, slightly flabbergasted.

She turns her head to glare at me over her shoulder. Then her eyes widen significantly with a short cry. "And you got shot?! Come here..." She grabs my arm roughly and drags me towards wall, but I rip free. She rolls her eyes as she breaks open the first aid kit I keep in the corner. I grimace and cut my shirt apart at the shoulder.

"You were lucky," she says as she starts cleaning away the crust. "It looks like it was a small caliber, and it missed the bone."

"Certainly didn't feel small," I grumble. "Ow!"

"So..."

"...so?"

"Mr Whitaker's Followhatever."

"Aww shit." I'd totally lost track of why I stormed out in the first place. "I can replace the piping tonight, but we're gonna need to order higher rated overflow valves in the morning. Everything else is on hold until they get here." Charlotte frowns. "What?"

"Didn't I say-"

"Can it, Charlotte! Do you want to build it? Huh? Owwww!" She tilts her head slightly, in the barest shadow of an apologetic nod.

Sera graciously introduces herself and the others while Charlotte continues to pull metal fragments out of my shoulder. She has nothing but kindness when she introduces herself, but me she wants to kill by very slowly ripping my shoulder apart! FUCK! "Sorry, Sweetness."

"Hello Charlotte. It's nice to meet you."

"Likewise," Charlotte says. "How can we help you?"

"She exposed our home," Raphe spits, speaking up for the first time in a long time. "You led them right to-"

Sera gently lays a hand on his arm, and he immediately quiets down. "We know you did not intend to bring us trouble. Scratch and Tubbins were very emphatic about your intentions."

"I told em," he says brightly. "Scratch said he didn't get a good look at you, but that you helped!"

"Are you sure you guys had to abandon that building? They weren't-ow!... Truancy officers," I finish, through gritted teeth.

"Most of them weren't," Sera replies, "but we knew two of them that were. Even if their purpose wasn't to round us up as Tubbins thought, we had been there for a very long time."

"And we could have stay-"

Sera gives him a gentle smile, and he quiets again. "It was time. We had been needing to move on for a while." Raphe seems like he wants to chime in again, but he bites his tongue.

"I'm so sorry," Charlotte says, as she gives the bandage around my shoulder an extra, and completely unnecessary, tug. I wince, and roll the arm around in its socket.

"No, it's us who should be apologizing," Sera says graciously. "We're intruding in your home at an ungodly hour. On top of that, we're asking for your help. Our options are... limited and dwindling by the day it seems. Mack showed us a kindness of a sort that is nearly unheard of where we come from. Or at least, she tried to..."

"How many of you are there?"

"12."

"So many? And all children?"

"Yes. We're the oldest." Sera gives a weak smile, and Raphe gives her a wary look.

"How do you keep so many..."

"We look younger than we are," Raphe says looking down. "That makes it more expensive."

Charlotte gasps in horror. "Then... how old..."

"18," Raphe admits.

"And 19."

Charlotte's lip starts quivering, and before they know what's hit them, she's grabbed them both and pulled them into a hug. Sera reciprocates with guarded affection, and Raphe looks like he wants to be anywhere else in the world.

"I might have an idea." All three turn to me. "We... we might need lookouts. Yanno, around here," I say, twirling my finger.

"But then is it not just a matter of time until Truancy officers find them again?"

I scratch my chin for a minute. "Can they apprentice instead?"

"Instead of..."

"Instead of going to school."

"Yes, but who would..."

"Me!"

"...All of them?!"

"Yeah, why not? I mean, it could just be a cover for some of them, but if any of them wanted to learn, I... I think I could teach."

"I wanna learn," Tubbins interjects.

"Where would they stay?"

"Well, for now, they could stay in the basement, but I was thinking that we could buy that yellow house on the corner, and the blue one two doors down. They could... I dunno... set up a perimeter?"

"What do you mean? And why do you think we need lookouts?"

"Well, yanno, after the article. And I... might have forgotten to mention that the mercs today knew who I was, and were maybe looking for you too..."

"What?!"

"I might have skipped over some stuff..." She frets and paces the floor while I fill her in, getting angrier and angrier. "Anyway, yeah. That's why I thought we could use some lookouts."

"I'm sure you know best, Mackenzie." Her voice is acid. "Picking a fight you almost LOST was a great idea, so how could this fail?" She stares daggers at me for a moment, and then continues. "I'm going back to bed now. If you're going to stay up and work on that Followhatever, don't wake me when you finally crash." She mutters under her breath as she storms out, something about putting 'children in the line of fire'. I stare after her, once again flabbergasted.

A quiet flutter has been traveling through the kids since I suggested they stay with us, and they continue to titter and giggle as I show them down to the basement.

The contraption in the corner says it's four in the morning, but I don't trust it. I took it apart the day after Charlotte bought it for me, and it's just a bunch of springs and counterweights. I'd tried to put on a good face, but I think she could tell I wasn't happy with it. I'd've rather built one myself, or better yet, had a Water one. Those Water casters may be a bunch of worthless sissies, but they know how to make clocks. They cost a small fortune though.

Ripping out the damaged piping isn't too difficult, but fashioning the replacement is no easier than it was the first time I built it. Getting the angles bent just right is a time consuming task. I press my palm against the curvature in the pipe, and delicately warm it. Precise heat. Gentle pressure at the very edge of my reach. I allow the pipe to cool into shape, to become comfortable with the form I have given it. If I begin the next step too soon it may rebel, and so I am patient. I am not in the business of allowing my work to dictate my actions. It is mine to determine; it is hers to accept.

Once cool to the touch, I place the pipe across a series of carefully prepared workhorses. The clamps spaced just so. The tension must be exact; too much and the clamps may bend it out of shape, too little and it may hurt itself far worse.

I measure out the cuts to be made. I measure them again. I warm up my finger at first, prepared to etch the outline for the cuts with my fingernail...but no. The right tool. There can be no mistakes. Each hole bored meticulously, and smoothed to a mirror finish.

I put down the file and stare up through the ceiling. Cherry is up there. She was naughty today. Very, very naughty. I get up and make my way into the lobby. "I'm sure you know best, Mackenzie." My brow seems to intrude on my field of vision as I ascend the stairs, muttering quietly. "I'm sure you know best, Mackenzie." I stop in the bathroom and remove my shirt. This amount of blood is never going to come out. I grab the shoulder and sleeve, and tear. Shoulder and sleeve, and tear. I discard the center piece and hold up my two scraps. This will do.

The door slams against the wall as I enter the bedroom. Charlotte pops up immediately, but sinks back down almost as fast when she sees it's only me. She's already naked. Good. "Damnit, Macke-"

I grab the back of her head and push down. She squirms and shouts into the pillow as I straddle her back, facing her lower half.

"Mackenzie," she cries, as soon as my hand leaves her hair. "What are you-"

"Shut. Up. Good little sluts don't talk." I grab her ankle, twist her leg outwards, and wrench it up against the back of her thigh. "Of course, you've been a mouthy little slut, haven't you?" I loop the tattered sleeve around her shin, and cinch her foot just beneath the bump of her ass. She mumbles quietly, and affirmatively. I look over my shoulder at her, and her eyes are wide with fear and... hope?

Her other leg, twisted and wrenched. I tug the sleeve tight, and knot it firmly. Then I spin around and grab her arms. She yelps, barely stifling the tail end of it through a bitten lip. One of my hands holds her wrists together behind her while the other rips out the cord I use as a belt. Loop, loop, loop, cinch. Then I step back.

Cherry whimpers. Seeing her all trussed up like this puts a smile on my face. The first real smile I've had all day. Time to put things back in order.

I straddle her backwards again, her splayed legs before me. I reach down and grab a handful of the flank of her ass, and bring down my other hand with a terrifying crash. My fingers readjust, gripping a wider chunk and squeezing. My hardened palm feels it less than my ears do as it comes down thunderously. This time, Cherry bleats, mewling sort of cry. Again, and her legs strain against their bonds, toes pointing and curling frantically. Again.

Again. Again. Again. Again. Again.

Again.

Again.

My sense of symmetry is offended by her one swollen, reddened cheek, and I endeavor to correct that. Over. And over. And over. And over. And over. And over. And over.

And over.

Cherry sobs are constant, broken only by sharp, jerky inhalations when I grab one of her cheeks and squeeze. I pause to listen, and then squeeze again. Then I squeeze the other and compare reactions. Nope, not quite there yet. Another sharp squeeze and whap!

Her cry is different this time. Frightened? I look over my shoulder and grin, as she's finally achieved her namesake color. That certainly took long en-

What is she... staring...

at...

In the doorway, just barely visible as she peeks, is Sera. Cherry was staring at her. Cherry was staring at her. Cherry was staring at her. My hands ball into fists I have nowhere to put, and my eyes widen...