First World (3 page)

My first attempt at r
olling out of bed was pain-filled. I’d forgotten about my injuries. Lifting my flannel shirt, I grimaced. Still an ugly dark purple, although some spots had yellowed. I must admit that I take my ability to heal in a quick manner for granted, but this injury was worse than usual. With a deep breath for courage, I sat up and pulled myself out of bed.

Hobbling do
wn the hall, I pushed my way through the girls in the bathroom to find a spare sink to brush my teeth. No way was I waiting in the shower line this morning; I had a man to find. I did take a few minutes to re-braid my hair, needing it off my face.

Back in my room, I grabbed some clean clothes from my drawers. The current world crisis doesn’t allow for a high-fashion life. Which is fine by me. I like comfortable. Tattered slim-fit blue jeans, low cut enough to sit below my bruises, and a simple white t-shirt.

Dragging on
battered black boots and grabbing my hooded dark-gray coat, I left the room. The weather was reasonably mild this time of year, but with the cold season around the corner the wind could cut right through.

Lucy
would be at breakfast; she was an early riser – unlike me. I have a personal vendetta against all hours before 10am. I didn’t bother with any cosmetics, not that many existed. Lucy’s contact on the outside did procure a few things, such as mascara, which she was addicted to. My lashes were already naturally thick and inky black – and with my talent of getting more of the mascara in my eye than on my lashes – I never bothered with it.

Starting down the stairs
, I made it to the first landing. As usual I rounded the corner far too quickly and found myself in a collision. We teetered comically on the ledge before managing to untangle ourselves. I recognized the mass of blond hair: it was Lucy. As she pulled back from me, I noticed she was dressed to impress today.

“Cute shirt
, Luce. Who did you bribe to get that one?”

Her love of clothes is well known
. Today, she teamed a funky purple vintage t-shirt with short denim shorts, long socks and sneakers. She’s the only person who manages to get clothes and cosmetics smuggled in. Works out for me too – occasionally a new shirt would magically appear on my bed.

“I’ve told you before
, Abbs, if you knew what I did for these things I’d have to kill you. Or myself,” she muttered. Glancing down at her watch, she gasped. “I don’t want to alarm you but ... wait for it ... it’s only 8.30 in the morning.”

Groaning
, I massaged my temples. “That’s why I feel like this. I hate mornings; remember that fight years ago? We haven’t talked since.”

“
How could I forget? It was the falling out of the century.” Lucy has sarcasm nailed.

“
So, I was coming to find you.” I would work on the little white lies – at a later date. In my determination to find the alley man, I’d completely forgotten about Lucy.

W
atching me, eyes narrowed, she shook her head. “Liar!”

I smiled.
The girl knows me well.

“You were he
ading out to find your alley man.”

I laughed
. A little too well.

“
Can’t get anything past you, but I’m just a tad excited.” Bouncing on my feet, it was probably obvious. “Last night in my dream the woman spoke and, holy mother of gold, her accent was the same as the alley man. I kid you not.”

Her eyebrows hit her hair line
. “That’s a strange coincidence. You had any ‘I’m a crazy person’ thoughts, Abbs?”

“
Every day, every damn day. But this feels different. Or maybe I just wanted to hear the accent again so badly that I made her speak with it. I don’t know.” I was afraid to get my hopes up.

“
It does make sense. You obviously feel a connection to this man and his wicked accent.” She shrugged. “But since I’ve misplaced my army tanker, there’s no way you’re getting me out on those streets.”

“
Chicken,” I taunted; her instincts were to rise to a challenge.

Her brows narrowed, blue eyes flashing her annoyance.
“You know my requirements, Abby. Do you possess the skills to use a decaying dead animal as shelter? And would you recognize the right plants to eat should we get lost?”

I snorted
. “Did I miss the memo? Was the compound shifted to Africa overnight?”

“You can never be too prepared.
Just saying.”

“If Bear Grylls bred with Chuck Norris, I would be their love child. That’s how skilled I am.”

Lucy’s face remained carefully blank. “
Thank you for that disturbing imagery. But we both know Chuck Norris needs no one. He creates children from thought alone.”

“Agree to disagree
, Luce. I’m a Bear fan all the way.”

Crossing her arms
, she leaned back to observe me. “Despite the fact it’s lame to still discuss shows from twenty years ago, you will never defeat Chuck.”

I shrugged
. “Twenty years? You’re being a little generous to old Chuck. And some shows are just timeless.”

“And why are they timeless? Oh
, that’s right – the television industry imploded on itself and no more shows were created.”

“V
alid point.” I changed the subject. “So are you ready to leave now?”

Running
shaky hands through her blond curls, she groaned. “You’re lucky you’re my best friend and those people are hard to replace, Abby.”

“
I knew you’d cave. Let’s go.”

She rolled her eyes
, but followed me as I skipped down the last few stairs.

I looked back. “Your life would be so boring without me.”

“Imagine that, a boring life, one where we both lived to, like, thirty. Definitely overrated.”

“
I know, right. What would we possibly do with all those extra years?”

Unlocking the door
, we left without any drama.

Exiting the compound
, we both performed security checks and then were on the street front. We aren’t given security clearance until our seventeenth birthday. I have no idea why they decided that was a good age, although most of the girls don’t leave the compound until they’re kicked out at eighteen.

In the deserted morning streets I couldn’t sense any trouble. I guess Gangers like to sleep in too. Lucy followed my lead as I started jogging.

Hurrying along the dirty, desolate streets only reminded me how much had changed in my life.

“This is what New York looks like now?” Lucy was aghast. “What the hell happened?” She hadn’t been out since we were kids; the city was almost unrecognizable.

I shook my head, my breathing even as we powered along. “People happened. And, like history, they keep repeating themselves. These power-hungry dumbasses
just keep on sucking the world dry.”

“It feels wrong. There’s something really off; I’m holding my breath waiting for the end of days or something.”
The strain showed across her features.

“I thought I was imagining it, but a definite undercurrent of malevolence has been growing steadily over the last few years.”

During Human Relations, a subject I struggle to endure, our teachers go on about how people are just animals deep down. They believe decency and morals were merely (and unsuccessfully) cultivated to keep society running smoothly. But once the dark depression started, that pretence disappeared. Even the rebels don’t particularly care about using people. They might not be as blatantly cruel and destructive, but I guess that perspective simply depends on whether you hold the power or are the victim.

Shaking off my dark thoughts, I led Lucy across the last road and into the alley.

“Wow, Abbs, could you have found a creepier alley?” She jumped, wrenching painfully on my bruised side.

“Did you see THAT,” s
he screeched in my ear.

I shook my head. “I’m not worried about seeing anymore
; it’s my hearing that’s been severely compromised.”

She
shoved me. “There is no way you missed that. It was a giant bat ... or ... no; it was a rat, with wings.”

I laughed.

She glared and yanked me further into the alley.

“Just hurry the hell up. I feel much more comfortable at the compound.
Our own little piece of terror and despair.”

She
then refused to budge from her spot near the entrance.

As I moved into the alley, small particles of
daylight penetrated the gloom. It was empty. Remembering my hiding spot, I double-checked the dumpsters on my way back.

As I walked
toward Lucy, a strange sensation trickled up my spine. Spinning around, I searched for the source. This was familiar, an early-warning system. But the alley was still empty.

As the cold shivers continued to traverse my spinal cord, my vision wavered. I shook my head to clear it when a sudden headache stabbed at my temples. The alley was trembling, spinning before my eyes. I struggled to remain upright; I couldn’t pass out and leave Lucy alone. Screaming sounded from far away and the pounding continued. Dropping to my knees, I cradled my head in my hands. Unable to take the pressure anymore, it was a relief as consciousness faded.

Awareness returned quickly. I waited, eyes closed, but the pain didn’t return.
Excellent. I probably had some rare brain tumour.

“Well,
that was the strangest ...”

As I opened my eyes, my voice trailed off. My heart
stuttered a few times in my chest. Looking around frantically, I tried to comprehend what I was seeing. Instead of ankle-deep in alley scum, I was sprawled in immense fern-like bushes.

Alright, this is fine, no need to panic yet
.

There was an explanation for this. It was eluding me at that moment, but there had to be one. Like, I hadn’t woken from my little blackout in the alley and this was a dream. A fantastically
realistic dream, where for the first time there was a distinctive and pungent pine scent in the air.

In a daze, I pulled myself up. Stepping over to
the nearest plant life, reaching out, I gripped the shrubbery. The green foliage broke off easily in my hand. It was slightly crunchy, contributing to that pine scent. I let out a short burst of hysterical laughter.

Keep it together.

I was startled by the sound of strong wind, like the noise of an immense cyclone powering through the forest. The possibilities ran through my head. Crazy beast, angry native, axe-wielding lunatic.

As it moved closer, I knew I had to get out of sight, wait it out.

I glanced around; there was nowhere to hide.

The crashing was louder now; I was running out of time. Hopping on the spot in panic, I dived under a large-leafed plant with unusual red spiky
foliage. The itching started immediately, my eyes watering as I struggled to stay quiet. Through a small gap, I caught a blur of colors. They dashed past me. Masculine laughter trailed off.

Waiting an extra moment, unable to stand the itching any longer, I wiggled out. My ribs were on fire as I dragged myself backwards from the bushy plant. I had never felt physical pain in my dream world before.

Crunching sounded directly behind me; as I spun around, a heavy body crashed into me. I groaned as the impact sent both of us hurtling toward the ground. At the last moment the huge lump twisted and managed to land next to instead of on top of me.

My head was throbbing where I’d slammed it back into the ground.
My first attempt to open my eyes had spots dancing. I flinched as hands began a methodical investigation along my body. He was either checking for injuries or frisking me. He paused, his hands resting on either side of my face. It was strangely familiar. Sanity returned in pieces and my eyes flew open. The light still burned but I ignored the tearing to pound on a rock-hard chest.

“Get your hands off me.
I expect to be bought dinner before I’m felt up.”

As my eyes adjusted, his concerned features came into focus. Blinking stupidly, I shook my head, once, and then again. The picture didn’t change. And I knew why it was familiar.

Rich brown eyes examined me in a disquieting manner. The warmth of his large hands cupping my face were soon replaced by a chill as he moved away. Which was worthy of noting due to the sunny and warm nature of the weather here.

“Sorry about that. Did I hurt you?” There it was again, laying assault to every sense I possessed.

The accent.

As shocking as it was to hear the potent and lilting sound, that wasn’t the craziest part. How could it be when the man of my dreams, literally, was crouching before me? Well, maybe it wasn’t
so strange; I was dreaming ... well, that was my explanation, and I was sticking with it.

There was an extra impact;
seeing him in three-dimensions. His strong masculine features, short dark hair that fell in a messy style across his forehead, perfect full lips. He was at least six-and-a-half-foot tall, with delicious expanses of golden tanned flesh showcased in well-worn jeans and a fitted shirt.