The Itinerants- Chapter One: Survival

Ynkeri sat huddled in the corner of a cold alley, waiting for the rain to stop, and all she could think about was how numb and wet her feet were. She’d worn her favorite shoes to come back to Eris- they were pretty blue slippers which shimmered at the barest movement of her ankle. Her mother had bought them for her on her eleventh birthday, just a few months ago. Now, they were a ratty brown and barely holding together. For the hundredth time, Ynkeri wished she’d worn more practical shoes like her father always instructed.

Shoe choices did her family little good when they arrived through Terminal 5 a month ago. They were coming home from a week-long trip in Ar-nor, just like they had done  every year since Ynkeri could remember. It was normally a bustling gate, vacationers filing down long halls in both directions. The excited laughter or exhausted expressions clearly identifying each when the lines became too difficult to make out. Before they stepped through the terminal on Ar-nor, Ynkeri was lamenting about how little time she got to spend with her new friend that was staying in the suite next to hers. It seemed so stupid now as she sat huddled behind steel barrels, trying to avoid getting soaked under the too-short tin overhang as the rain fell steadily as it had every day she’d been back on Eris. The constant plink, plink, plinking sound made her want to shut her eyes and rest, but she was afraid of what she’d dream when she slept.

The dreams always began the same way: holding her mother’s hand, trying not to puke with the change in gravity. She squinted in anticipation of the normally bright and clean lights of Terminal 5, but instead, it was dank and run down. Bones and tattered clothes littered the once polished floor taking her from disoriented to terrified in a blink. She could hear her father trying to calm everyone. Ari was cursing and mother started to cry. Then, out of the shadows, came men who rushed at her with faces like wild animals, snarling and biting. He father yelled for her to run and so she did, just like she had in real life: running from the men who’d cornered her family.

The dream always ended with her falling- sometimes the street would suddenly open up under her or walls would disappear from behind. It always jolted her awake, a cold sweat on her brow despite the chill air. She spent the next few minutes reminding herself of what actually happened after she started to run. It became a ritual of sorts.          
Easily the fastest girl in her grade, Ynkeri felt like she could fly after coming home from Ar-nor each year. The lower gravity of Eris made her legs feel like springs, but she knew it would only last for a couple of days, just like the nausea which sat impatiently in her stomach.  She would need to use that extra bit of strength to her benefit and loose her tail which she could still hear, though more faintly. What she needed was a good hiding spot.

She thought it would be easy- she knew every street from Terminal 5 to the fast-rail, but when she emerged from the run-down entrance, she found herself in a city she didn’t recognize. If running was easier, stopping was all the more difficult. The nausea she tried to ignore before made her gag. That didn’t matter, though, not while she was being chased. She needed to find a place to hide.

Just like when she played hide-and-seek against her brother, Ynkeri looked obscure places no one would think to look- but even that was not enough. Ari taught her early on, if she was going to win a game against him, she had to be smart. Finding a hiding spot that offered cover and visibility gave her the chance to see where the men were looking and then move to the spots they already checked. These lessons kept her from being caught, though her trembling hands told her she would need to do more to avoid starving.

The last time she ate was a couple of days ago. She couldn’t say what it was she put in her mouth- only that it tasted like an old, dead thing. She swallowed it all down only to retch it up two blocks away. Now, her eyes were constantly scanning for food on darkened street corners and in trash heaps. The first time she found half a sandwich, she got jumped by boys who hit her until she handed over her prize. It took a busted lip and a black eye for her to surrender the precious food. They might have done more if she hadn’t kneed one of them and clawed the other in the face. Before, she hadn’t paid much mind to the eyes that seemed to watch her from around corners or behind thin metal slats, but now she spent as much time looking for food as she did for the street waifs who made trash bins and dark alleys their home. Looking down at the jacket she’d picked off a dead man, she figured she was a waif now, too.

Ynkeri whimpered involuntarily as the rain continued to plink. She was hungry and so tired, but going to sleep was worse than being awake. She hugged her knees to her chest and tried not to think of how cold it would get after the sun set behind the glass and steel buildings that loomed over her like cruel giants. There was nothing she could use to build a fire, and even if she did, it would only bring the men with guns that much faster.

A guttural sound pulled Ynkeri from her misery. Her eyes scanned back and forth until she spotted where it was coming from. A thin, mangy cat growled low in its throat as it took a swat at a mouse it cornered along the opposite wall. Ynkeri’s mouth watered uncontrollably as she thought of how much meat hugged the bones of the tiny predator. The bar of scrap metal she found a few days ago was an arm’s length away, hidden carefully in a pile of trash. All she would have to do is creep quietly enough so as not to startle the cat before she pounced.

She crawled from her dry spot, not heeding the cold rain, and very gently picked up the metal rod- just like a game of pick-up-sticks- she thought. Quieter than the mouse who was darting to one side and then the other, Ynkeri crept towards the cat, who seemed to be playing with its dinner. All the while, she tried to convince herself that killing the cat was a mercy and, besides, she’d be saving the mouse, but her memory of White Paws made her tremble. The little grey and white kitten was always waiting at the window for her to come home and even slept in her bed at night, curled up around her feet. The thought of her pet brought up such longing that she almost hesitated when the time came.

          But she didn’t. Instead, she thought of those boys who busted her lip and took her sandwich. They didn’t have to beat her, they could have just taken the food and let her be. She swung and struck the cat’s skull so hard she could hear it crunch. She didn’t know when she started to cry, but she was slumped in a puddle sobbing as she picked up the lifeless cat and cradled it in her arms. I want to go home, she thought, her tears mixing with the rain. Why can’t I just go home?

“Jeez, girl. It’s food, not a baby,” an oddly accented voice said from the shadows of a doorway. Startled, Ynkeri jumped to her feet, cat in one hand and the bloody rod held defensively in the other. The silhouette turned into a boy with black hair and blue eyes as he stepped out into the alley. Ynkeri thought he looked two or three years older. He was easily a head taller than her. He put his hands out in front of him, gesturing he was unarmed.

“Don’t worry. I don’t want your dinner,” he said, taking another step towards her. Ynkeri instinctively took a step back and waved the metal bar in front of her in warning. She would hit him the way she hit the cat if he came any closer. Sensing her distrust, the boy stopped and then stepped back. “I’m Lukas. I live just down those stairs,” he said gesturing to the door behind him. He was just a boy, but Ynkeri wasn’t convinced. His accent was odd, just like the men who’d chased her for days. Just like those boys who’d hurt her for half a sandwich- she’d never heard it before leaving Eris the last time.

“How long you been like this?” the boy asked, gesturing to her thin, summer pants and the dead man’s jacket so big it looked like a dress. Ynkeri bit her lip as she tried to decide if she would answer him or run. She felt the scab open and tasted blood. Was he a trick the men chasing her thought up? That would be clever.

“I dunno. A while I guess,” she said, wiping her broke lip on the sleeve of the jacket. “Why are those men chasing me?” Even if he wasn’t for real, she wanted some answers. Even lies would be better than nothing. It was a gamble- that’s what her dad called it when she did something risky playing their favorite board game, but she hadn’t talked to anyone since she arrived back home on Eris. The boy looked stunned for a minute.

“What year do you think it is?” He asked.

That’s a stupid question, Ynkeri thought, but she answered anyway.

“Godsdamn, girl! You’re about two hundred years off. I don’t think I’ve met anyone as old as you, before!” He said, oddly delighted. Ynkeri frowned. He’s a nut bag.

“You think I’m kiddin’ you, too. Jeez. Everyone is gonna love you,” he said, throwing his hands in the air. Ynkeri took another step back before the boy could contain his mirth.

“Lookit, you can’t eat that cat raw. Well, you can, but that would be disgusting. I have a stove in the basement. I even have a blanket you could use tonight..." he trailed off for a second as if thinking then added, more quietly, "I'm like you."

“What do you mean, like me?” The thought of a hot meal and a blanket lowered her guard some, but how did he know? What did he know?

“You’re an Itinerant. A traveler. That’s why those men are looking for you. Most of us have been captured, but some of us are clever- or lucky- enough not to get caught. We stick together as much as we can- protect one another. No one else will, after all.” He held out his hand to her, “What do you say?”

Ynkeri lowered the rod and took a step forward. It was either a trick or it wasn’t, but she was cold and wet. If she refused his offer, she didn't think she would be able to get dry and the weather might freeze her to death. If she was going to die tonight, at least she would be warm and dry. She gave him the barest of nods and the boy named Lukas smiled, showing a set of crooked teeth, then turned his back and stepped back into the darkened door. Setting her shoulders, Ynkeri took a deep breath and followed.