Chapter 9 - Flickers in the Abyss

  Inside the school, rooms lay strewn with everything you could imagine. We started by the main entrance and made our way through, checking each one. Mostly to make sure there were no creatures lurking.

  We moved with the practiced efficiency of veterans, communicating with subtle hand gestures rather than words. Three years on the road had perfected our routine: I'd take point, Reece would check blind spots, and we'd clear rooms methodically. We'd learned to trust each other's instincts implicitly.

  Our progress was slow and steady, but when something caught Reece's eye and he wanted to look closer, we both went in to see.

  Each corridor we used grew darker as the light waned outside. "There," I said. "Library, I knew they'd have one."

  We followed the sign until we got to a set of doors that led us back outside. A building stood across the small lot, its double doors. They were closed tight.

  Carefully, we walked across to the doors, then round the outside of the building. We found it locked and noticed they even boarded some windows.

  "Locked from the inside?" Reece asked.

  "It looks like it. Let's see if we can get in there." I pointed to a side door.

  The door was locked, too. It rattled in its housing as Reece tried it.

  "It looks like someone's tried to get in," I said. My hand ran down the side of the door to feel the bumps in the wood where they'd tried to wedge it open.

  I tapped the wood. "Feels pretty rotten."

  Reece's eyes scanned the ground. "You have a way with wood," he said. Then he smiled and pulled a stick up from the ground. No, it wasn't a stick when he came in with it. He pounded it in his hand, it had some weight to it.

  "Metal," he said. "This should work even more so now if it's rotten."

  He put it to the door, and with one swift movement, the door gave way with a crunch. Splinters fell, and Reece went to put the metal bar down. "No," I said, "Keep hold of it."

  "Weapons," I murmured, more to myself than to him. The years had taught me that any potential tool was also a potential weapon. "Never discard what could save your life."

  I broke the door even further, then pushed it inside so we could enter.

  The darkness was just that, no light in here. I wondered how we could see, see if anything was in here. But as my eyes adjusted, it was actually easier to see. There were rows and rows of books and, unsurprisingly, not much dust.

  Reece put a finger on a desk as we walked past. "Nothing in here," he said.

  "No, not even much dust."

  "The way it was locked up, maybe? To keep the elements out?"

  "Looks that way. We'll need to give it a good sweep and then board that door up again if we can. Maybe move the desk in the way that should hold for tonight."

  He nodded. "Good plan."

  It took a while to check the building, but nothing jumped out, so that was a bonus. It being locked up was a good thing. Together, we moved and pushed the desk up against what was left of the door. Then we settled in the back. There was an open fireplace, and heaven forbid there were remnants of burned books in there.

  Knowing someone had been in here, and survived in here, at least for a while, was good, but knowing what they'd had to do to survive, to keep warm, was not.

  The sight of charred pages in the fireplace made my chest ache. Before the world fell, burning books would have been unthinkable—sacrilege, even. Now, survival trumped preservation. How many priceless works had vanished this way? How much knowledge had been reduced to ash in exchange for a few hours of warmth?

  I hated to think of the things long in our past that they'd burned. What stories?

  Before we got a fire going, Reece filtered through to try to work out what was in it. "Love hurts," he said and showed me the remnants of the cover. A bare-chested man next to a woman, they both had no heads, burned off in the apocalypse.

  "Love story," I said and shrugged. "Maybe they just didn't like romance?"

  He laughed, but we soon had a small fire going of our own. Small because anything too big would always attract something, or maybe now here in the city, someone.

  "I found the human biology section," Reece said and plonked a pile of books before me.

  I read the titles as I flicked through them. "The Pocket Anatomy. The complete atlas of the Human body."

  I groaned. "These all sound so boring."

  "These might be better," he passed me two more.

  "Tweens?" I looked at the bright color and laughed. "Sex and puberty." Here, I passed him one back. "Reading for later."

  I rummaged about in my bag and pulled out mom's journal. I'd hidden it in the remnants of the Herb and Herbalism cover. I held it out for him. "I'm not sure I want to," he said.

  I pulled it back. "It's okay. It took me a long time too."

  Reece picked up a book and we both read till we needed to sleep.

  He turned in first. "Night, sis."

  "Night," I said, but by the light of the fire, I carried on. I pulled my mom's journal out when I was sure he was asleep. I opened it in the waning light, tears dripping down my chin. I shouldn't have lied to him….

  I ran my fingers over the familiar handwriting, tracing the curves and loops of my mother's script. This journal was more than a record - it was the only piece of her voice I had left. Each page was infused with her fears, her hopes, her love for us. But I'd kept it from Reece all these years, selfishly guarding this connection to her.

  Wiping my cheeks of their tears, I focused on the book's first page, even though I'd read it, and read it. The words… gave me something.

  To whomever finds you.

  Little Vale Valley - 2048

  I found you in Mr. Rankins's cabin; his wife, whom we met in the summer, had a few. I know she won't miss one. So, I took it.

  There's no easy way to say the things we've been through. But I want a record of my family's trials. So that maybe someone can learn from them in the future. Or heaven forbid if I can't bear to talk to my kids, they have this to fall back on.

  Truth—Magic invaded our planet, and over a few days rendered everything we knew— dead.

  Everyone was given a Y/N choice—Survive Initialization

  We didn't have a clue what that was, but those who said no—turned to dust.

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  It was only a few days later that the System told us we were the 1% of survivors.

  It was only shortly after, when Alfie had taken our daughter, Cerys out to hunt, and given her a gun that I was pissed, so pissed fire exploded from my body. Alfie erected some kind of shielding or—oh gods I might have hurt him.

  After that we started developing—no other word but magic.

  Monsters roamed everywhere. People fought the monsters with this magic, we later learned it was called mana. People still died, but at least so did the monsters.

  Alfie and I talked for weeks about what was best to do. The magic seemed to progress in levels like some of his old video games. So, we started only practicing together to try and get stronger. Only outside of the Valley did it grow faster. The Valley really was a little safe haven. Our safe Haven.

  We realized all too late that we were twelve months behind everyone else.

  So far behind.

  We argued constantly about what to do with our kids…. Cerys was so smart. She wanted to learn everything, and learn she did. Even if the system wouldn't recognize them till puberty.

  Alfie and I finally decided we'd stay as long as we could to keep the kids safe, to get them both to puberty.

  Practice took up every waking moment our kids weren't with though I knew Cerys was sneaking out and watching us, and to my horror following us when we went to steal supplies from local encampments.

  My poor Cerys.

  So hungry, so alone, so not a woman yet.

  On the one hand, I was glad.

  On the other hand, I wanted to protect her all the more.

  Reading those words again, I felt a strange disconnect. The little girl Mom had written about seemed like someone else entirely - a stranger from another lifetime. I'd been hungry then, and I was hungry now. I'd been alone then, and in many ways, I was still alone. But I was no longer that child who needed protection. I'd become the protector.

  They'd done everything they could to protect us, but nothing had worked. We were out here not trying to get by… to reach puberty.

  Maybe now Reece had, maybe I would too?

  It took me a bit to calm myself, I tucked it inside the 'Tweens' book and then put it in my bag.

  I let the warmth of the fire settle me, and my memories drifted to those days at camp. The most memorable cabin was the one Mom transformed into the library, though nowhere near as big as this. It was no longer just a place of shelter; it became a cathedral of knowledge.

  In that sacred space, my family sought refuge from the world outside, especially after an exhausting day of scavenging or when the weight of the new world became too much. This was our sanctuary.

  I cherished the nights when the soft glow of a lantern illuminated Dad's face as he spun tales from the books. His warm and deep voice would transport us to worlds far away from the desolation around us. Reece and I, nestled close, would hang on to every word, the stories becoming a lifeline in a world losing its stories.

  Years might have passed, but those memories, preserved like precious gems, were recounted every night. Even in the darkest of times, Reece and I would recall the magical world within that cabin's walls, using stories as a balm for our weary souls.

  We needed them.

  These memories were both comfort and torture. They showcased what we'd lost, yet kept something of Mom and Dad alive within us. I sometimes wondered if I clung too tightly to the past, if it would be easier to let go. But then, what would be left of me? Of us? The stories were all that remained of the world before - a world Reece barely remembered.

  Pushing the thoughts of impending puberty aside, I lay back, closed my eyes, and for once felt at least a little content. We were almost home. Almost.

  I wasn't really asleep when I heard whispers.

  "There's a fire in there, has to be someone…."

  "You think they have food?"

  "We'll see. Keep your voice down, or you'll wake them."

  "On my mark, break that door in. Three."

  I shook my brother awake.

  "Two."

  Reece's eyes widened, and I put my finger to his lips as I reached for that metal bar he had earlier.

  We were trapped.

  I'd failed one of my father's first tests.

  Never leave yourself without an exit strategy.

  The realization hit me like a physical blow. How could I have been so careless? After all these years of vigilance, I'd let my guard down at the exact wrong moment. Dad had drilled this into us: always have an escape route. I'd failed him. I'd failed Reece.

  On instinct, I fumbled in the dark. I found the metal pole where Reece had been sleeping just as the command "One!" thundered through the library. In an instant, blinding lights pierced the darkness, engulfing us in their harsh glare. Confusion reigned—what?—who?— where?

  We were suddenly and utterly surrounded.

  "Run," Reece screamed. I couldn't, I wouldn't ever leave him. I promised.

  I could barely make out the struggle in the maelstrom of flashing lightning and noise.

  I tried to watch, but Reece was a veritable powerhouse, no one could get near him due to his sparks.

  "Stop resisting!" someone bellowed, and there was an almighty crack.

  Hands emerged from the blinding light, reaching for me like predatory claws, desperate to pull me into their grasp. I dodged and ducked.

  Years of training took over. My body moved on pure instinct, calculating angles, identifying threats, exploiting weaknesses. The world narrowed to a series of tactical decisions - evade, strike, disable.

  Desperation fueled my actions as I wrenched up the metal pole and swung it through the air—a grotesque crack echoed as it connected.

  A man's scream cut through the chaos. Then, more hands seized me from behind. One quick movement, and I had one person over my shoulder and sprawling along the floor. Fight or flight… I was not running.

  Someone else wrenched the pole from my grasp, and when I saw him, I swallowed. This man, over six feet, was the size of some of the monsters we'd seen. Here I was, dwarfed in size by this monster—a mere speck under a giant's shadow—just as Mom always feared. I yearned for her at that moment, both her and my father, they'd protect us. Me…. I couldn't.

  "James?" a woman's voice inquired; concern tinged with irritation. "Are you okay?"

  "The hell I am! She broke my damn arm!" the injured man, presumably James, yelled.

  That name, that name stuck in my head for some reason. James? It couldn't be, could it, from all those years ago?

  James. The name triggered something deep in my memory. Mom's journal - the encounter that claimed Dad's life. She'd written about someone named James. Could this possibly be the same man? After all these years, what were the odds? But this world had taught me that coincidences rarely existed.

  If it was—holy hell anger bubbled to the surface. "Come near me again, and I'll break your neck too!"

  A heavy blow struck me from behind, and though I fell to the floor, I wasn't out cold. I struggled, my mind racing with panic and fury, but my brother's silence said it all.

  "Reece?" I called out, my voice tinged with desperation.

  "He's unconscious," the woman reported. "Clearly, neither of you were raised with any manners."

  "Manners," I spat back, seething with anger. "You just broke in and raided us in the middle of the night. What does that say about you?"

  "Secure this area. Get them in the truck," the woman commanded briskly.

  "Truck?" I echoed, my heart pounding with terror. Functional vehicles were relics of a bygone era, unseen since the collapse of society. "What truck? Where are you taking us?" My words trembled out in stutters and whispers that barely masked my terror.

  "They haven't got much," a man said as he shoved me back into the night, emptying our bags onto the floor then kicking our stuff around. "But that lightning spark. Haven't seen one of those around here in a long time."

  "Might be worth seeing what else he's got in the arena?" James said between sucking in hissing breaths.

  Arena? The word sent a chill through me. This wasn't just a random raid. These people had organization, structure - and apparently entertainment involving people with abilities. The implications made my blood run cold.

  "Reece," I begged. "What have you done with him?"

  Silence was all I heard.

  We were both shoved into the truck, but Reece still wasn't moving. I tried to get closer to him, but the man whose arm I smashed yanked me back. "You ain't going near him. Stay."

  "I'm not a dog." I spat back.

  No one talks as we're driven away from the school's library. I wondered briefly if I'd ever get back here, that we'd be okay, but at the back of my mind, all my mother's warnings were going off in my head.

  Fuck my bag, her journal…. We had to get away from these people. We just had to, and we had to go back.

  By the time our captors had unceremoniously thrust us into a confined space, Reece had come to. His silence was unnerving, but the faint glow in his eyes, visible even in the dim light, reassured me of his consciousness and life. He blinked rapidly, a silent communication in the Morse code our mother had taught us, a shorthand language in this dire situation.

  "OK?" I blinked at him, concern evident even in our silent conversation.

  "C," he responded, then blinked again. "Where?"

  "Don't know," I replied.

  "Stay strong."

  The Morse code had been one of Mom's more brilliant ideas. "There may come a time when you can't speak freely," she'd told us. We'd practiced for hours, tapping messages on cabin walls and blinking them across rooms. I'd thought it was excessive then. Now I was grateful for her foresight.

  My mind churned with possibilities. What if this place, wherever we were being taken, was somehow a haven in our shattered world? Yet, the 'what-ifs' were endless and unnerving.

  Outside our confined room, we could hear voices. The old woman's gruff tone was unmistakable, even from a distance. Age seemed to have stripped her of the ability to moderate her voice, or perhaps she was too old or hard of hearing to care.

  "Any other signs from them?" she inquired.

  "None, except for her talent in bone-breaking," James grumbled. "She's got nothing in terms of mana."

  "Let me see that," she demanded, skepticism in her voice. After a series of grunts and curses, she conceded, "Damn, she did break it. Get to Sal and Jonas. They'll have it healed in a few hours."

  Healed in a few hours? That was impossible, right? Dad couldn't get mana to heal anything and he'd tried. A loud bang on the door jolted us. "You'll stay there till morning. Maybe then you'll consider the consequences of your actions and be ready to talk," she barked.

  Talk? What was there to discuss? They had abducted us!

  I pressed my ear to the door, desperately trying to gather more information. Healing abilities that worked in hours rather than days? These people must have advanced significantly in their system levels. What else could they do? And more importantly, what did they want with us? With Reece?

  I crawled over to Reece, feeling him tremble in the cold. Huddling together for warmth wasn't new to us; we'd done it countless times before. There, in each other's embrace, we sought comfort and solace. Eventually, exhaustion overcame the tension and fear, and I drifted into a fitful sleep.