Escape from Paradise

“What are you doing out here, Luke?”

I didn’t even turn away from the glass wall to acknowledge Jeph. I knew he’d keep walking. He never turned down an opportunity to find interest in anything I did. So I waited.

When Jeph stepped up beside me, I pointed below, to movement only barely discernible in the failing light.

“See that?” I asked quietly. I waited for his nod, then I went on, “There’s been activity in the dead sector for about an hour, now.”

Jeph’s head whipped around. “And you haven’t reported it?”

“Nope. Not going to, either,” I said. I turned my back to the wall and leaned hard against the cool glass pane. “It’s the dead sector. Whoever is down there won’t last long. No sense in wasting Control’s time on it.”

“If Control finds out you’ve been neglecting your duty…,” Jeph trailed off. His Adam’s apple bobbed. He was nervous, now that I’d made him an accessory.

I shrugged. There wasn’t anything Control could really do about the dead sector. It was ground-side, governed by whatever was left of the old guard, the ones who refused to move up when the world was going to hell.

I looked around. Pristine white and glass met my eyes. People walked the corridors, going to work, or classes, or dining-halls, while tiny robot cleaners swept and scrubbed away bits of imagined residue. This far from the core, there was no dirt.

The vertical light panel across the corridor flashed twice, in blue, calling all blue-sector civilians to work. A steady yellow stripe on the panel told all yellow-sector workers it was time for a sleep-cycle.

“That’s the blues.” Jeph was an expert at stating the obvious. “We can come back and check on that,” he waved his hand toward the dead zone below, “when the greens are called up.”

I shook my head. “You go on. I know you’ve got orders in the arboretum today. Should be fun for you. There’s two shifts scheduled for today. Planting day.”

Jeph shuddered dramatically. He hated working security in the arboretum on planting day. But then again, so did most of the security forces. He waved at me when he got to the first turning of the corridor. I waved back.

With Jeph gone, I turned back to the glass wall. I stared down at the dead sector, watching for more movement. When it came, it came with a signal.

Lights flashed in the last of the daylight, looking for all the world like the last reflections of the sun on the mangled steel and glass detritus. I watched through the message, twice, before turning to leave.

Across the pristine corridor, green lights flashed in tandem with blue, calling both sectors to work at the arboretum. I grinned and clicked my comms open, calling Control.

“Control, this is Luke, yellow sector-chief. I’ve heard some mumblings about a riot planned for planting. Recommend shutting down the arboretum once all those working are in place. I’ll patrol yellow sector to keep the peace during the planting.”

I got acknowledgment from Control, then shut off my comms and my locator. I had five minutes to get to the old hangars. From there, it was simple enough to steal the ship I’d been secretly working on for six months, then escape the rigid, pristine world of Paradise-on-High.

All in the Family

“So, it’s a baby you want?”

The orphanage matron was plump in her tent-like dirty brown uniform, her hair was disheveled, with flyaway gray strands, and a hardness in her eyes. The woman she spoke to was her opposite; slim but muscular in a form-fitting black suit, her auburn hair a perfectly coiffed chignon, and laughing green eyes.

“I do not, actually. I’m looking for a child who needs discipline, and love. One who has had the hardest time adjusting to her time here. A troublemaker, if you will,” the woman replied to the matron’s question.

The orphanage director’s eyes narrowed. She considered her question carefully, then asked, “Why would you want a troubled child? Is it your intention to hurt someone?”

The woman in black laughed, the sound musical and light. She reassured the matron, “Nothing of the sort. I, myself, was a troubled child, and I’ve grown to cherish the same kinds of people. Children with attitudes, children with struggles, all need extra care and precise instruction. I can provide both, as was provided to me.”

“And it’s a girl you’re wanting? That’s the other item I’ve got listed, here, from our earlier call,” the matron moved on.

“Yes. It must be a girl.”

The woman in black smiled when the matron opened her mouth to speak, causing the other woman to hesitate too long.

“Oh, I’ve nothing against boys, matron,” the auburn-haired beauty said, “and I’m sure you have several fine young male troublemakers, but I do have my heart set on a girl.”

“Then a girl, it is,” the matron said and pushed herself away from her desk. She rose from the ancient office chair and ambled to her office door, where she mumbled a few things to an assistant in the anteroom.

“Lizette will gather several prospective candidates in the other room. Then you may see and talk to them, if you’d like.”

Both women waited in silence until there was a single rap on the wooden door, then together they rose and left the office.

In the antechamber, six girls waited, all wearing dirty brown uniforms reminiscent of the matron’s. The youngest was perhaps four, while the oldest was nine or ten. Their eyes were full of distrust and anger. They all either stared at the matron or at the visitor, each one as defiant as the next.

The woman in black paced in front of the children for several moments, pausing before each child, then moved to question the matron’s assistant.

“Could you tell me, please, about each child’s worst transgression?”

With a nod, the mousy assistant moved with the woman, as once again, the woman in black paced the floor in front of the children.

“This is Marie, she’s four, and she bites, hits, and pinches the other children. She listens to no one.”

Down the line the pair went, evaluating the girls. Each had been disciplined for violence at least once. Two of the girls were punished for stealing, one had been caught starting fires, three had been suspected of worse but hadn’t been punished due to lack of evidence.

“May I speak with this one,” the woman in black indicated a girl of seven, named Riley.

At the matron’s nod, the woman knelt in front of the child. She reached out to brush strands of unwashed black hair from the girl’s eyes. The girl stared at the woman, her fingers clenched into fists at her sides. Her back was rigid with pent-up hostility and fear.

“Riley, my name is Anna. If you’ll have me, I’d like to adopt you. Is that all right with you?”

Riley refused to speak. Her eyes, so dark brown they were nearly black, stared into Anna’s unblinkingly.

Anna leaned closer. She whispered into the girl’s ear. Riley’s body eased, her fingers unclenching, and her face changed from a stiff, angry mask to a soft, delighted smile. She nodded to whatever Anna said, though the matron and her assistant couldn’t hear the words.

“Riley is mine,” the woman said, standing up. She smiled at the other women as Riley slipped her small hand into Anna’s.

“But,” Lizette protested, “Riley is one of the most troubled girls here! She’s a liar and a thief.”

The matron hushed her assistant, then gestured for the woman in black and Riley to enter her office. The paperwork was hurriedly done, then Anna and her new daughter were escorted from the orphanage.

Outside, Riley turned to Anna.

“Are you really going to show me how to do all that?

“That, and more, Riley,” Anna Fortune said. “I’ll teach you everything I was taught, and one day, you’ll teach your daughter. It’s the way of the Family. But first, we have to get you cleaned up. You’re to meet our employer today.”

In death

“Charles.”

The frail and cracking voice called quietly into the deathly silence of the grandiose foyer. The marble floors gleamed faintly in the dusk caused by the fitful light of barely-operational gas lamps. Heavy velvet curtains in forest green hung limply against aged cappuccino-colored walls; walls that had once been a rich, warm cream.

The minute woman, bent with age and arthritis, limped her way into the foyer from an adjacent study. Her thin body was draped in layers of crinkled black linen and lace. The cane she carried was of ebonwood, with a heavy silver lion’s head under her gnarled hand. Jewels glinted from every finger, and several necklaces swung loose from their mournful cover.

She called again, “Charles.”

A silvery mist formed in front of the woman. The shape of a man, tall and slender, formed from the mist. As the woman waited, the shape more firmly coalesced, revealing an elderly man wearing a white, collared shirt with a deep gray tie with a charcoal vest over the top, gray dress pants, and polished black shoes. He bowed his head toward the woman and waited for her instructions.

“Charles, my breakfast was late this morning,” the aged woman snapped. “The parlor hasn’t been tidied, either. What in heaven’s name is wrong with Janet?”

Charles answered, in a vaguely echoing, hollow voice, “I do apologize, madam. Cook was running a bit behind, due to the flooding in the village, and the week’s groceries not being delivered on time. As for Janet, I believe it’s her anniversary.”

He rushed on to keep his mistress from interrupting, “However, that is no excuse for failure in her duties. I shall have a word with her.”

The woman smiled, revealing a mostly empty mouth. Only a handful of teeth remained, though they were well taken care of.

“Oh, Charles. I’d forgotten. Don’t be harsh with Janet. Please, leave her to grieve as she will. I’m sure Dorothea can handle things alone for a while.”

“Madam, you are far too forgiving of us,” Charles protested. “How shall the girl learn if you’re too soft on her?”

The elderly woman shook her finger at her butler, “She learned, Charles. As did you all.”

She looked sadly around the grand foyer and sighed.

With a catch in her voice, the woman said softly, “I almost wish none of you had learned quite so well, though I don’t know what I’d do without you, now.”

Charles reached helplessly for his mistress. “Madam, not one of us would trade a minute of our service to you. It has, and always will be, our pleasure.”

The woman shifted her weight, turning slowly to wander back into her warmly-lit study. She sighed again.

“A pleasure it may have been, but I don’t deserve such loyalty,” she said. She paused in the doorway, and said, without turning, “Oh, and Charles? Order a fantastic arrangement to be put on Janet’s resting place. One for her family, as well. It wouldn’t do to let an anniversary pass unacknowledged.”

The visitor’s game

“Please, sit.”

The strange man in my living room motioned toward my usual chair. I supposed it wasn’t too difficult to infer that it was mine. It was covered in my daily mess: a quilt for those random cool breezes, a water bottle tucked into the side pocket, a thick, dog-eared fantasy novel, and littered in amongst it all, sugar-free black cherry cough drops.

“Ummm, sure, but, who are you?”

My voice didn’t crack, though it took quite an effort to keep it that way. I stepped past the man, who didn’t move a muscle except for his eyes. I weakly waved the ham and cheese sandwich I’d just made and looked at the man quizzically.

“No, thank you. The smell turns me off, actually,” he said, answering my silent question, and handily ignoring the spoken one.

“Oh.” What else was there for me to say?

I perched on the arm of my recliner. I was afraid that if I got comfortable, so would he. Now that I was facing him, I could see more of the details of his person.

He would have been tall, if he had been standing. His pale skin was stretched taut over sharp, prominent bones. His eyes were clear and so gray they could have been called silver. Beneath the disturbing orbs, a hint of shadow turned his skin nearly the same color as his eyes. His suit was black on black pinstriped with a snowy white shirt that had a stiff, starched collar. Most of his hair was a jet so deep it seemed to absorb the light, but, scattered like jewels, glittering silver strands gave a clue to his age.

I tried again, though my voice was quieter this time, “So, who are you?”

“Fear not, dear soul, I’m no danger to you. I swear it,” he answered with a smile. It did nothing to make him seem friendlier.

He could tell that I was still not sure of him, so he sighed and leaned forward. His long, slender fingers plucked invisible lint from his pants, then they folded together, making a cage of flesh.

“Let me explain why I’ve come. You see,” he smiled, “my job has grown incredibly loathsome, so, in order to coax myself into continuing, I’ve decided to play a game.”

“Your job is why you’re here,” I repeated absent-mindedly. Gathering myself, I asked, “What’s your job?”

The smile on his face widened. “Ahhh, but we shall arrive at that point, shortly. May I continue?”

At my shrug, he continued, “The game is to find myself, again. Once, I was enamored by my profession. Each day was an exciting time for me. I barely rested, such joy I took in my work. But, alas, that time is long past.”

The strange man pushed himself from my couch, his grace triggering a flare of jealousy in me.

He laughed, as though he could read my mind. A shiver ran down my spine.

“Back to the game. Your part is this – tell me three things: your greatest desire, your greatest regret, and lastly, your worst enemy.”

I was bewildered. “I’m part of your game? Do I win something, or am I just a playing piece?”

The strange man grinned, and when he did, the skin across his face stretched so tight his visage turned to a skull.

“Ahhh! You are clever. Far more clever than those who came before you,” he crowed. “You shall have a prize. Now, tell me your answers.”

I tried to think, but the grinning skull made my heart race and my mind whirl. I looked around my small apartment and wondered again just how this man had gotten in.

“Time is wasting. I need your answers now, or I’ll be forced to call a forfeiture.”

“Fine,” I stammered, “my greatest desire is to see my child again. My greatest regret is that I let him go to that party. And my worst enemy….” I struggled to finish the thought. I choked out, “My worst enemy is time.”

The strange man’s smile faded. His head bent and he went still.

After several minutes of silence, the strange man bowed to me. His smile held nothing of a skull, this time. His flesh seemed to brighten, moving toward a burnt gold color, and his form bulked up. His hair lightened. It still flashed with strands of precious metal, though a different type.

“Thank you,” he said. “You have moved me. The desire to continue in my work has returned.”

He turned to leave. I picked up my forgotten sandwich and lifted it to my mouth. I was startled when his voice came one last time.

“You have a visitor. He’ll probably want one of your ham and cheese sandwiches.”

I looked up to see the man vanish, and in his place, my son.

A night’s work

Shadows jumped and danced in the fitful light of the streets oil lamps. The lamp-lighter had been less than diligent at his job, leaving almost a third of the street lamps unlit. Passers-by attracted featureless doppelgangers that, in turn, loomed larger than life and dwindled to nothing.

In the deep recesses of a storefront, a figure lurked. It went largely unnoticed by the few late-night wanderers. The cloak, a shifting thing of shadows, itself, billowed in the gusts of wind that rattled shutters along the street, but the figure was unmoving.

A few of the street lamps sputtered in the wind, their oil reserves running low and no match for the angry gusts. At a snail’s pace, the street emptied. The last few stragglers drunkenly sang bawdy tunes as they held each other upright. The figure in the shadows remained unnoticed.

A whipping, swirling cyclone of wind swept through the streets. Doors banged wildly, shutters rattled like an army of sabers, and age-weakened wooden houses creaked. The billowing cloak flared, revealing, to the empty street, a girl not yet into her adulthood, yet far beyond childhood.

The girl dropped to her knees, clutching the cloak around herself. She pulled the hood of the garment close, blocking the stinging wind. When the spinning vortex of wind died, the girl opened her cloak to reveal a tattooed arm.

“Dwush, ichdre a’lyrdryn, seir dygloni adrund,” she whispered. Her slender hand traced arcane symbols across one of the tattoos, a pair of ferrets clutching coin purses in their tiny teeth. A brilliant flash of emerald green erupted from beneath her hand. The ink faded from her forearm, but in its place emerged two sleek and playful creatures.

The girl scooped the pair into her arms and nuzzled her cheek into their soft fur. She whispered again, plainly this time, “Three floors up, a ruby necklace, offset with diamonds. Quickly and quietly. I wait.”

She placed the matched pair on the street and watched them disappear into the darkness. Their link to her kept her aware of their progress, though her eyes failed to find faintest of signs. The girl wrapped herself in her cloak and sat back, waiting and watching for her thieves.

A thrumming in her senses told her the ferrets had been seen, seconds before the alarms in the merchant’s house clanged. The girl threw back her cloak, revealing a scantily-clad body adorned in tattoos that covered nearly every inch of flesh.

Emerald light welled beneath her fingertips as she caressed another inked masterpiece, this time a much larger picture that curled from her stomach, across her hip, and down to her knee. Her voice was clear but rushed when she spoke the words of power.

The girl clutched the edge of the doorway, her face a grimace of pain, as a black-on-black panther tore itself from her body, leaving her flesh entirely naked. As the great cat paced, pushing against her, she spoke.

“Find Reza and Ticco. Engage their pursuers. Delay, but do not kill. Then return to me.”

The panther roared acknowledgment, then bounded off, across the street. The girl watched for a moment, then fumbled for a pouch dangling from her side. She pulled a handful of black dust from the container, and, stepping out into the street, flung the powder at the door of the merchant’s house. The pouch, she dropped into the street.

“Tyn a’fflam, imynit awyl,” she cried, her voice lost in a sudden burst of flame. The wooden house, though lavishly adorned, was old, and the fire was magical. Fingers of orange and red raced along the porch, wrapping around the railings and climbing to the second floor.

The girl stepped back, into the shadows once again. She felt her little thieves approaching and heard the screams of the merchant’s guard as they were confronted by the panther and flames. Her lips twitched into a smile.

She hated using the fire, but the guildmaster had insisted. Unfortunately for him, the discarded pouch bore his society name. And it still contained several grams of flamedust.

As the girl strolled from the lamplit street, a pair of roiling ferrets tangled themselves in her cloak. A ruby and diamond necklace dropped into her waiting hand. The thieves snuggled together and faded into artwork once again.

Encounter at the bar

The old man sat with his head in his hands at a table across the way. Despite the dim smokiness of the bar, I could see him clearly. His hair was gray and wispy, tentatively grasping onto his liver-spotted scalp. His swollen-knuckled hands were streaked with old grease. His back was bent and obviously arthritic.

A glass of some amber liquid sat untouched on the pockmarked wooden table. I supposed it was whiskey. He seemed like the kind of man who’d drink cheap and hard.

My eyes moved away and I spied the waitress. I waved for another beer and she nodded. I looked back over at the old guy. He hadn’t moved.

I continued to watch him, just out of curiosity. I wondered what his life story was.

The waitress brought me my beer and I slid a few bucks her way. We both stayed silent, but she smiled a sad little smile before she walked away. I didn’t even bother watching her.

I sipped my beer, with my eyes still on the other man. My mind began to wander. I imagined the many possible lives that old man might have lived.

Maybe he was sitting here, alone, drinking, because he’d just lost his wife and he couldn’t handle being in their house without her. With no kids, or kids who had moved away, he was by himself in the world. He needed the distraction of the bar to get him through the night.

Or, maybe, he had never been married. Never found that one person who could make life bearable without a glass of soul-numbing whiskey in his hand. He had no long-term friends, no family left, and nowhere to turn but a bar full of strangers, all drinking their own problems away.

It occurred to me that maybe he was the bar’s owner. He sat here every night, glass of whiskey hiding his identity, to make sure his business ran smoothly. His life-long dream of being his own boss crushing him under the weight of so much responsibility.

I reached for my glass for another sip of beer, but found it empty. I looked down and realized I’d already gone through a half-dozen beers. The gold watch on my wrist flashed in the neon lights. I didn’t bother checking the time. I knew it was late.

I pushed away from the table and glanced once more at the old-timer across the way. He had moved.

His blue eyes glittered like hard sapphires in his lined face. He winked at me then reached for his whiskey.

I shuddered. An eerie feeling clawed its way up my spine.

I stopped at the bar on my way out.

“Hey, Al, I’d like to buy that old guy a drink. Whatever he’s having,” I said.

The bartender looked to where I pointed.

“What old guy?”

Zombies in a war-zone

Her pale skin glistened in the moonlight. The dark halo of her hair was barely visible, even under the full moon. She shambled when she moved.

I stared at the girl, unable to think anything other than ‘zombie’, though I knew it wasn’t possible. I stayed as still as possible, crouching under the crumbling stairs. I didn’t want to spook her and I didn’t think she had seen me, yet.

A low moan floated in the still night air. My heart raced and my mind cycled through all the zombie apocalypse movies I’d ever watched. Maybe…?

I shifted my weight. I had to. My knees were about to give out. Keeping still on bent knees for a long time wasn’t in my skill set. But I moved too much and the girl heard.

She stopped moving.

I waited, breathing shallowly in my chest, hoping she’d keep going. I figured I could outrun her. But the stairs that kept me hidden would be an obstacle if I had to flee.

After several minutes, the girl continued her shuffle. It looked like she was moving toward the abandoned brownstone next door. The nearest inhabited buildings were blocks away. This area had been evacuated almost ten years ago.

I watched the girl move. Her arms hung limply at her sides. Her knees didn’t bend. She stared straight ahead. She definitely reminded me of a classic zombie.

She stopped again.

I waited with my breath held. She was only about fifteen yards away. Close enough that I could see a scar on her face. The ‘X’ of it was raised and much darker than the rest of her skin.

I leaned forward. My foot slipped. I went down, hard, onto my backside.

I saw the girl’s head turn. She took a shuffling step toward me.

Then she ran.

She was on me before I could react. Her hot, nasty breath washed over my face as she grabbed me and pulled me close.

I tried to scream, but nothing came out. Terror held me closer than the girl did.

“He… help…me…”

In my shock, I never saw the hulking shadow that loomed over us both.

Twins, opposed

Two girls stood, side-by-side, under the canopy of broad leaves that still dripped with the early morning dew. One was bright as the newly risen morning star; the other was her opposite, in every way.

The light sister’s rosy mouth was pursed in thought. Her pale hands were clenched at her sides. She stared at the infant before her, cradled in a foreign metal, bathed in light from a tiny pulsating fallen star.

“What do we do with it,” the golden-haired sister asked of her darker half, her voice musical and light. “We can’t just leave it….”

Black eyes flashed at the bright girl as the ebon-skinned girl considered the situation. The dark sister moved forward, her booted feet silent in the soft loam of the forest floor. She stopped when the blue-tinged infant’s eyes flew open. The raven-haired girl reached slender fingers toward the pulsing light, now dying from its long exposure to the crushing weight of the world.

“What are you doing,” the lighter girl screeched. “Leave it alone. It’s pale, like me. I claim it.”

The black-eyed girl turned her head and gazed at her sister. An eyebrow arched in pointed question, staying long enough to make the other girl blush.

Silently, the darker girl slid her hands under the baby’s body and she lifted the child from the cradle. Without uttering a word, she turned away from her sister and slipped into the forest.

“Wait! You can’t take it. It’s mine!!!”

The dark sister grinned to herself as she ran from the wail of her sister. Behind her, she could hear the cracking and shattering of the evidence of the baby’s arrival. The golden-haired girl’s rage was palpable.

The baby, a boy, opened his mouth in a silent giggle. His skin, exposed to the dim early light of the forest, began to darken. First, it deepened to the color of the sky, then to the indigo of mountain flowers, until finally, it settled into the deepest navy.

The dark girl smiled and pulled the child closer to her chest. If she could hide the child, keeping him safe from sacrifice, perhaps, her people stood a chance to survive the light.

She…?

I turned the body over, after making sure the techs had all the pictures and samples they wanted. But just in case, I made sure to be careful, leaving intact as much of the crime scene as possible. This wasn’t my first murder.

The face revealed startled me. I wasn’t expecting to see someone I knew. Especially someone I wasn’t supposed to know. I stepped back quickly, to collect myself and stop my racing heart.

“What’s up, Bob?”

The junior detective on the case strolled up behind me, his voice much too jolly for a homicide cop.

“Nothing. Had a late night, last night. Guess it’s catching up to me,” I replied. I didn’t want Hughes to know the truth. It might cost me more than my job.

“I was talking about the stiff,” Hughes said. “But alright.”

The younger man pushed past me to peer down at the pale face staring lifelessly from the ground. He raked the dark hair out of his face and shook his head.

“Damn shame, you ask me,” Hughes sighed as he sank into a squat next to the flame-haired dead woman.

His head turned and he peered at me, his chocolate eyes turning black in the dim light of the alley.

“She was a beauty. Copper-penny hair, sky-blue eyes, porcelain skin, not a single flaw,” he said. “Did you find any ID on her?”

I shook my head. “Hadn’t gotten that far. Just got her turned over when you popped up.”

“Well, you’re lead on this, Bob. Want me to do the basics, then you can pick up the heavy lifting?”

Again, I shook my head, “No. I’ll take it all. You’ve got that new kid to take care of, right? Why don’t you just worry about that? I can handle this. It’s basic. Plenty of evidence.”

Hughes grinned at me. He jumped up and strode over to clap his slender hand onto my shoulder.

“Thanks, Bob, I appreciate that.”

Hughes slipped past me, but I still hadn’t moved when he paused.

“Besides, Bob, it’s just an android. Not like it really matters who took it out, right?”

A civilized battle

Cannons sounded from the next valley. The booming echo washed over the crowd standing still and silent at the edges of the forested floor. The moon, yellowed and pale, slid over the edge of the ridge across the way. With the next boom, the people rushed across the open valley.

The eerie silence of the group was maintained during the mad dash. No children cried, no stragglers were admonished to keep up, and no leader shouted orders. All the usual night prowlers were absent and even the wind died in the trees.

Not a soul stopped when the mass reached the far side. Every person scrambled hand over hand and foot over foot up the pine-needle covered slope to the top of the ridge. A slight pause at the top, then it was a silent plunge to the next valley floor. Just before they broke out onto the cleared bottom land, the group stopped dead.

The cannons, two valleys behind, now, continued to send echoes chasing the crowd, but the sound was distorted, seeming to come from several directions. Many eyes turned to the north, along the valley floor, while still others peered across to the west and the towering mountain cliff that rose sharply above the valley.

Without a sound, the group split in half. The children, twenty-six in all, set off to the north with a dozen adult caretakers in tow. None of them spoke a word.

The remaining adults, more than twice the number of the departing children, raced toward the mountainside. With clawed hands and bare feet, they began climbing the rough wall.

Less than halfway up the mountain, the silent climbers paused, listening. When the next cannon boom faded away, the people found their voices.

An undulating, wordless scream pierced the night, sending vibrations into the mountainside and back across the valleys to the cannoneers. The soldiers nearest the cannons fell to their knees, clutching bleeding ears as the huge metal monstrosities hummed with the scream. The soldiers behind the cannoneers rushed forward, to be knocked over, themselves.

On the mountainside, the climbers continued screaming. Ore-laden rocks fell in a steady rain around them, but the people pressed themselves into the solid certainty of the wall. One by one, the screamers fell silent. Then the ascent began again.

The soldiers, reeling from the vibrating screams, blinked through tears of pain and tried to rise. But the vibrating cannons moved among the crowd, tearing limbs from bodies and crushing any soldier still prone. When the sound-tremors finally subsided, barely twenty soldiers survived.

But by then, the children had come back.