'Bullshit! You eat as much as you want. You're just a gannet.'
'You're always hungry too,' she shot back.
Rawn pulled a face and shrugged. Hunger was the driving force of their never ending struggle for survival in a world gone mad. They had grown up in it, and knew its dangers well, which was perhaps the reason they had succeeded where so many had failed. They were a remnant of the last generation to survive, old enough to fend for themselves when they had been orphaned, but young enough to adapt.
'Come. Let's go.'
Rawn led her down the hill past the sludge-eaters, secure in his advantage of youth and comparative health. The people watched them pass with bright, envious eyes, some finding the energy to throw of few stones in their direction, all of which fell short. Rayne followed Rawn at a steady lope through the desolate, ruined suburbs towards the city.
Rayne hated the city, but they had to go into it for food. They always left as soon as they had supplies for a few days. They paused on the crest of a hill, but when Rawn started down it, Rayne stayed behind, forcing him to stop and turn to her.
'Couldn't we raid the country store again?' she asked.
'We raided that last week. It'll be crawling with guards.'
'I have a bad feeling today.'
'It'll be all right. Come on.'
Rayne glared at the distant cluster of shining towers that sprouted from the tumbled ruins of lesser buildings, crushed in the rebellion or fallen foul of pollution later. The decaying buildings formed a complex concrete jungle whose dangers included collapsing walls and crumbling sewers. Broken glass and twisted, rusted reinforcing littered the streets, where bands of hostile vagrants roamed, preying on anything that could not defend itself or run. Packs of giant rats infested the sewers in an army of disease-riddled vermin. She caught a glimpse of herself in a piece of broken glass as she passed it, averting her eyes quickly.
The harsh life and lack of food had taken its toll, giving her a gaunt, elfin look. Her blue-green eyes burnt with hunger, and soot smudged her creamy skin. Her mane of silver-streaked blonde hair, which she had hacked off in a thick fringe, was a little grubby. Her unusual beauty made her a target for raiders and autocrats. Rawn was too, not so much for the autocrats, but the mistresses, their female counterparts.
Only the autocrats' towers, which their slaves maintained with cannibalised parts from unused towers, remained intact. They clustered at the city centre, known as the Inner City. A leaden grey sky hung above it like a dirty shroud, and black smoke belched from the power plants that provided electricity to the towers, fuelling its filth. To Rayne, who preferred the country, barren and dead though it was, the glittering buildings represented all that was evil in the world.
She glanced at her brother. 'We've been lucky until now, but one day our luck's going to run out.'
'Do you want to starve?' He turned away. 'We have no choice. Come on, let's get on with it.'
At the city's outskirts, they grew more cautious, dodging from building to building to avoid the police patrols that were meant to keep raiders out. Dawdling guards outside a red-brick building gave away the site of a food store. The ruined top floors sprouted twisted girders, and rotting planks covered the windows. Crouched behind a crumbling wall, they watched the bored guards pace up and down with measured strides.
'That's the place,' Rawn whispered. 'Only two guards, and they're bored stiff. That place hasn't been raided for a while. It's perfect. Time to do your stuff, Ray.'
Years of fleeing irate store guards had given Rayne an unusual turn of speed. She could out sprint the fastest guard, creating an effective diversion while Rawn stole food. The guards, knowing their master would reward them for catching her, always vied for the prize. She had to keep them interested long enough for her brother to do his part, then escape. Afterwards, she would meet him outside the city. Rawn patted her shoulder, and she stepped out from behind the wall and walked towards the guards.
They spotted her and shouted, drew their guns and gave chase. Rayne sprinted down the street while Rawn ran to the doors and picked the padlock on the chain that secured them, slipping inside. There he would fill his rucksack from the masses of food bars stacked on the shelves, and, if his luck was really good, he might find ammunition too.
Rayne ran across a road and into the street beyond, glancing back at the panting guards, who flagged after just three blocks. Slowing, she faked a limp so they would not give up too soon, and their yells of triumph rewarded her. Their occasional shots were wild, and she loped on for another block, then swerved and ran across a vacant lot into another street. By the time they walked back to the store, Rawn would be long gone. She entered a more dilapidated area of crumbling ruins inhabited by a few thin, dirty people so scared they even hid from each other.
The guards followed, shouting in frustration. She glanced back with a smile as she rounded a corner. Something slammed into her midriff, and she rebounded and sprawled. Gasping with shock, she struggled to rise, staring at the sleek grey hover car that blocked her path. The airtight door seal broke with a faint wheeze, and a gush of conditioned coolness washed over her, scented with strange perfume. An autocrat stepped out, his shiny black robe covering all but his face. Rayne scrambled to her knees, shaking her head to clear the spots from her eyes, broken glass slicing into her shins. She staggered to her feet and backed away just before he came close enough to grab her.
He raised a hand. 'Wait! Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you.'
Rayne retreated, and he followed, a hand extended in a parody of friendship, his tone soothing. 'It's okay. I only want to help you. You're hurt.'
Rayne knew an autocrat would never help her. His beady brown eyes, set close together in a thin face with a bony nose and a rat-trap mouth, roved over her in a way that made her skin crawl.
Spinning on her heel, she sprinted down the street, hoping to put a good distance between herself and the autocrat before he started his car. He cursed, then the car's soft whine pursued her, catching up fast. She could not outrun a hover car, and there was nowhere to hide. She dodged burnt-out car wrecks and avoided twisted girders and rubble. The shock of her fall had sapped her strength, her lungs laboured and her legs grew weaker with every stride. The autocrat followed, waiting for her to tire while he called his men.
A doorway ahead yawned dark and forbidding, but she dived through it and stopped, panting. He would not dare to follow her into such a dangerous area, even though he was armed. The old building provided a perfect place for an ambush.
Rayne listened to the hover car's whine, gasping in the building's damp, smelly gloom. He could wait out there all day, and would have called for men to send in after her. Walking further in, she stumbled over garbage, startling a few rats. The building stank of urine, faeces and decay, and pollution ate away at its crumbling walls. Icy fingers of fear marched up and down her spine, but she forced herself to go on. A square of light beckoned ahead, and she quickened her pace.
The door led into an empty lot surrounded by high buildings, some of which had partially collapsed, filling the area with broken bricks, twisted girders and glass. Hurrying across it, she entered the building on the far side, where she rested in the musty darkness, contemplating the dangers that still faced her. She had to get to the meeting place, which meant running the gauntlet of hazards with which this ruined world was rife. At least she knew what they were, and how to avoid them. A lifetime of training had prepared her well.
Walking to the doorway, she looked up and down the dirty street. A group of vagrants huddled around a fire, cooking a rat, but they were far away. Further up the street, a manhole cover flew off with a clang and a ragged figure wriggled out onto the road, then sprinted for the shadow of a doorway. Seconds later, three more ragged men emerged, looking up and down the street for their prey before setting off down an alley. The group that had been cooking the rat had vanished into a building, leaving their little fire.
Rayne waited for the men to return. They had to be raiders or desperate vagrants banded together to hunt others. After several minutes, the distant vagrants re-emerged and fought over who would eat the rat. Still she waited, all her senses alert. A movement at the end of the street caught her eye, as four police hover cars entered it and moved towards her. The vagrants broke off their argument and retreated into the building behind them.
The autocrat must have ordered the police to patrol this block in search of her, so she could not venture out. Retreating, she found a room with a single dirty window and settled down to wait, piling damp cardboard boxes into a makeshift seat. Periodically, she rose to peer out of the door, where the police still patrolled. Her stomach rumbled, and she thought of Rawn, by now enjoying the meal he had stolen from the autocrat's food store.
