her head. She reached the bottom bruised and winded, and lay gasping for a minute before crawling deeper into the darkness.
Above, the house's destruction continued. The earth shook as laser bolts pounded the building to rubble. The explosions all but drowned out the roar of flames and the bangs and crashes as walls collapsed, bricks falling with dry, grating thuds. The distant tinkle of smashing glass mingled with the creak of tortured wood. The house groaned and roared as it was destroyed. Reaching a wall, she curled up next to it, pressing her back to it as she stared up at the oblong of light at the top of the stairs.
Flames licked around it, feeding on the wooden frame. Soon they would travel down the stairs and fill the room with choking smoke. She plugged her ears to block out the terrible sounds of destruction above. She coughed as the smoke grew thicker, and the inferno's heat made sweat bead her face and trickle inside her clothes.
A terrific crash made her jump, and she was plunged into blackness as the door at the top of the stairs slammed shut, hit by a falling beam or wall. The door's violent closure snuffed out the flames that licked at its frame, sealing her off from the burning house until the fire ate through the door.
The explosions stopped, leaving a silence that only the fire's crackle broke. Burning wood made little mewling sounds, and the occasional crash as a burning timber collapsed, or the tinkle of glass shattering in the heat, made her start.
Why would an alien space ship try to kill an insignificant human being? There was no doubt in her mind that she had been the target. The vagrants would have been far easier to kill. She wiped sweat from her face with grimy hands, realising, from the stinging of her palms, that they were raw. Would these hostile aliens leave, or would they wait for the house to cool and search the rubble for her corpse? Had it been sport, choosing a target and trying to kill it for fun? Plenty of UFOs had been seen since mankind's downfall, observing, and perhaps recording Earth's demise. They had kept their distance, however, never making contact in spite of humanity's attempts to contact them.
The stifling smoke stung her throat, and her eyes watered. The door at the top of the stairs creaked, its outer surface on fire. Rayne forced herself to wait in the suffocating darkness, fighting a strong urge to go in search of light and air. The aliens might think she was dead, or they could be waiting outside to make sure, and if she revealed herself now they would hunt her down again.
Rats ran about, their claws scratching on the concrete floor. One ran over her leg with tiny hard paws, and she shuddered, jerking it away. Their squeaking held a note of panic, so they must be trapped too, she surmised. The wall against which she leant was damp and coated with slimy mould, which soaked into her jacket, chilling her back. Flames appeared at the bottom of the door, throwing a little light down the steps. Rayne straightened and looked around. The rats' glowing eyes met her gaze from a corner, where they seemed to be engaged in a purposeful activity, perhaps trying to chew their way out through the stone.
The smoke thickened, and she realised she had to get out before the fire consumed all the oxygen and the smoke suffocated her. Now that her eyes had adjusted to the dark, she could make out the faint outlines of boxes stacked against the walls, and an old-fashioned boiler in one corner. She tried to stand up, but stabbing pains in her legs reminded her of her injuries and she sank down again to explore the painful areas. Blood soaked the back of her jeans, and she ran her hands over the wetness.
Finding a protruding glass spear, she jerked it out with a cry and flung it away. Biting her lip as fresh tears stung her watering eyes, she continued her search, locating another, smaller shard. It was slippery and deeply embedded, and her fingers could not grip it at first. The agony that lanced up her leg when she touched it made her stomach clench, but she pulled it out, groaning, and hunted for more. She extracted three more pieces, then sagged back, sick and dizzy.
The door burnt, flames licking at the roof. Thick, stifling smoke filled the room and the heat had become almost unbearable. Climbing to her feet, she hobbled along the wall, running her hands over its cool dampness. She had to find another exit, or she was doomed.
Chapter Two
Dawn found Rawn wandering along a dirty alley, tramping through piles of rotting refuse. This provided the rats' breeding ground, and the people who lived in this evil, depressing place trapped and ate them. Rawn hardly took any notice his surroundings, unable to think of anything except how he was going to find his sister. He did not notice the group of men lurking in a dark doorway until a net descended over his head, and many dirty hands pulled it tight around him. Someone snatched his weapon from its holster, and the men flung him to the ground. The net pinned his arms, and the raiders pulled it tighter while he fought. He kicked a man on the shin and made him hop and curse. These were the worst sort of raiders, who hunted people to sell to the autocrats for food.
A bald, scruffy individual with an eye patch stepped forward, holding Rawn's gun as he crouched down beside his captive to study him with his remaining bloodshot eye.
'You're a pretty one. The mistress will pay well for you.'
'Fucking bastards!' Rawn snarled, earning himself a kick in the ribs from another man.
The leader gestured. 'Bring him. Put him with the rest. The mistress is going to love him.'
Two raiders hauled Rawn to his feet, one producing a pair of handcuffs. He twisted and cursed, trying to loosen the net and free his arms. They were a runty bunch, none with his strength or stature, and there were only four of them. Lunging at the man with the handcuffs, he dragged the two that clung to the net with him and butted the raider in the stomach. The man staggered back, tripped and sprawled, the cuffs slid into a storm drain and vanished with a distant splash.
'Hold him!' the one-eyed raider shouted. They did not want to kill him, and that worked in Rawn's favour. He swung and butted another man in the face, breaking his nose with a dull crunch. The raider released him with a bleat of pain, clutching his nose. The one-eyed man aimed the gun at Rawn, but killing or even injuring him would make the whole exercise pointless. Rawn turned to the man who still held the net, hooked his fingers into it and jerked it from the raider's grip, then loosened it with a heave of his arms and flung it aside. The slaver hesitated, casting a desperate glance at his leader, but his courage failed as Rawn stepped towards him, and he fled. The man who had tried to cuff Rawn sprinted after his comrade.
The one-eyed man, becoming aware of his danger, cocked the gun and waved it. Rawn lunged at him, gripped his wrist and twisted it until the bones cracked. The man screamed and dropped the weapon as Rawn smashed a fist into his face, sending him sprawling. The raider Rawn had butted staggered to his feet and raised his hands as Rawn picked up the gun the one-eyed man had dropped. Rawn glared at him, and he fled. Rawn looked down at the whimpering one-eyed slaver, disgusted. This was what it had come to now, raiders hunting each other to sell as slaves. Even they had lost their pride and become as pathetic as the people who waited at the feeding stations.
Relieving the one-eyed slaver of his gun, he holstered his own and tucked the other one into his belt, then glanced up and down the street. He had wandered into the territory of this sort of raider, which was not a healthy place to be. As he walked back the way he had come, his thoughts returned to his lost sister.
Rayne groped along the wall, gasping in the heat and smoke, her head swimming. The blazing door consumed the oxygen, and flames crept down the stairs. Her fingers touched a frame, and she examined it, finding a hatch set at an angle to the wall, which must open upwards. Stepping into the recess under it, she set her shoulder against the trap door and heaved with all her might. It creaked, the dry wood digging into her.
Again she pushed, her legs weakening as she panted for air and inhaled smoke instead. She was tempted to give up, lie down and surrender to the injustice of this cruel world she had struggled so hard to survive in all her life. With a strangled cry of defiance, she put the last of her strength into a final push. The hatch flew open as the rusted lock gave way, and she climbed out, inhaling great breaths of fresh air.
For a while, she lay and gasped on the withered grass, then sat up and wiped her streaming eyes. The house smouldered, most of the fire having burnt out already, leaving embers that sent a column of black smoke spiralling upwards. In some places, flames still licked at the timbers. She glanced around for the scarlet saucer, but the sky was innocent of alien ships. Nevertheless, she staggered to her feet and moved into the shadow of the neighbouring house, just in case.
