“You will be travelling with myself and two Children. You will mother them through this change” said The Behemoth.

  “What reason do I have to leave? My husband is dead, his idea; his grand creation is dying and the people he loved are tearing the last of it to shreds. Why should I run? So that I can perpetuate this foolish evasion and be chased by my own shadow and inevitably fall and die, with panic and desertion as my premise? Is this why I should run? Is this what you are running for? Marcos would never have run? His life was in building this nest, this home that has served us well for a decade and one that you abandon without an inkling of guilt. How can you not feel it? Why the fuck should I go with you?” she screamed, throwing a glass through the window and sending thousands of tiny shards showering down on the men below, causing them to cower to the floor, their skin cutting, their hands tied to their heads.

  “Why should I go?” she said.

  “Because one of the Children” he said, “you carry in your womb” he said.

  0011001100110101

  As the darkest hour faded into the faintest light, the small matted dog curled up with the young boy on the side of the road, still trespassing through expectation, waiting for the boy’s father to come walking up from the horizon so the two could lift themselves from their stiff frozen slumber and start their voyage unto wherever it was that the love in their hearts could take them.

  Ruff lifted his head; his eyes were still glued shut but his ears pricked backwards and his nose starting working away at the shift in the air picking up a scent that caused him to marry with instinctual concern. A low growl became a natural way to rouse the young boy from his state of vulnerability. The boy pushed the dog and continued with his dreaming.

  In his mind he stood lost inside a garden maze. He could hear his father breathing somewhere through the mesh of trees that wrapped around one another and blinded the contours in their shifting direction.

  The greens of the trees flowed like a river; shadows of dark green floating across the constant of its lighter part; like the journey of a wave through the open sea, skipping over colliding currents riding the birth of a rising swell.

  The shades of green ran over and through one another, taking with them, the shape of the trees until before his sight and about his reach, every turn that had once been, closed its path to the young boy who still sat idle, in a shrinking maze. The sound of his father calling fell dimmer until there was nothing except for a girl’s whisper. He thought at first that it might be his sister.

  A shadow formed at the end of the green block where he was imprisoned. The shadow came closer moving with its head low, its hair hanging to the ground. It wasn’t his sister. He paced backwards, looking over his shoulder for what escape he had behind him or how far had had until there was nowhere to go.

  He backed against the wall; the thorns digging into his skin; all the flowers that bloomed about him, withering in his immediate sight; everything was turning black. The shadow continued and the whispering worsened; settling in the recess of the weakest part of his being; the part that cared. The shadow stood at him now and reached out its hand resting on his shoulder. He screamed but his voice was lost in the gentleness of the shadow’s shushing.

  “It’s time to go” said the shadow leaning into his ear, pushing its way into his mind.

  “Go” it said again.

  Everything quickly reduced to nothing; a canvas of black, then the nothing divided; a tear in the void where a scrap of light shone through. Donal rushed towards the light and dove inwards.

  0011001100110110

  She wasn’t shocked as much as she was simply uncomfortable in a truth that she had heard whispering from her sub-state for some time now; a feeling she had had once before but tried so hard to forget. The first time she fell pregnant, the news was devastating; in her youth, this meant the end so many things and she had tried on numerous occasions to rid herself of the of the virus camped in her extremes, unhinging her emotional state and ruining her preservation.

  The first time she tried deleting the pregnancy was maybe a day or two after she had broken the news to Marcos. They had just moved in together and their life had so much potential, it could have moved in any direction. They were young and the world was ideal and they thought about doing so many things, about changing everything.

  But that all changed and like a forest fire chasing the tail of a shifting wind, their world caught ablaze and the extremity of it all, the enormity of the challenge ahead sent her running straight into the inferno with nothing but the spit in her mouth to douse the flames.

  And the day following the new truth; when the sobriety of their celebration brought with it the cold thud of reality and the sense of desperate isolation, she panicked and locked herself in the bathroom with a thousand pills of a thousand names but only one solution when they were added together.

  She had been in there for only a moment or two with the door locked before the concern in Marcos’ voice turned from gentle persuasion to climatic coercion; screaming at the top of his lungs while beating through the wooden frames with his fists and smashing the lock from the door with the heel of his foot.

  By the time he burst in; his hands high in the air swinging down to strike at her face, she had already consumed a great deal of tablets; her mouth, a swollen sea of white pills that spilled out onto the floor as his hands grasped her throat cutting her supply of air and tearing her by the last breath of her will, from the roaring fire and back into the choking reality where all the possibilities she had known were no longer carved in her name; they would equate for everyone else.

  She didn’t think of running for a bottle of pills this time, something inside her, other than the thing growing in her womb, fed on her compassion; an uncommon emotion and preserving state that she could not comprehend but with it, she could not argue. Instead she left The Behemoth on a note that she would attend to her sickness.

  She was excused with the guard of a White Heart who walked with her down the winding stairs and out into the open air of the courtyard where now the darkness was peeling away and the thin light of day was claiming its right. The Woman gazed upwards and stood for a moment without rush and in silent appreciation.

  The sky was a light blue, something she hadn’t seen in so long. As light crept over the stretch of night and it brought with it an open sky, free of the cold blanket that divided their aspirations for an amount of time one would not dare to collect. It was beautiful, to see a new day being born and to see into the depths of the heavens.

  As The White Heart lowered his arms and disengaged his defences along with all those in the courtyard; bewildered and catatonic, staring up into the cerulean sky, The Woman slipped from his guard and stepped surreptitiously away into the retreating shadows against the walls of the complex and then ran through the winding corridors looking for the science rooms where she had last left her love.

  Whatever would happen, she wouldn’t let The Child die, but before whatever was to happen, she insisted on seeing her lover one more time before the currents of fate swept her into their direction and took her further than her fight ever could.

  As she entered At Science, she could hear the furious passing of ideas and commands coming from one of the rooms at the far end of the corridor. The men sounded confused, rushed and desperate; always a poor combination.

  There were a row of five doors to her left and right. As she crept along the corridor, holding her breath to her heart, she heard the sound of a man cursing.

  She stopped suddenly in front of the door which was partly ajar and to assure the absence of her presence she peaked through the gap, pushing the door slightly to allow more light to fill the darkness. What she saw next was as much less expectant as what she then did, bursting into the room and from the table beside The Man in White, taking a length of cable that curled next to some cutters and a row of empty syringes.

  Not a thought entered her mind as her hands roped around The Man in White’s neck, digging her left leg hard into the ground, pulling her elbows close to her body, her left arm dead straight and her right arm circling the man’s head with the length of the cable, pulling it tight against his neck and leaning backwards, her left knee pushing into the man’s spine, her face glowing red, her eyes searing with hatred, the veins in her arms popping through her white skin and the man, flailing his arms uncontrollably trying to find the cable at his throat and end his play of death.

  The Woman pulled tighter and tighter until The Man in White fell completely limp, the syringe that was in his hand falling to the floor, rolling beside her feet. She didn’t let go of the cable until the rage that swarmed her had completely subsided, the young girl tied helplessly to chains with frightened eyes, watching the incident unravel.

  As her rage subsided, her veins; in its place, took flight with adrenaline and her hands started to shake uncontrollably; her heart pounded weakening her stomach yet again and directing her legs to run.

  What had she done?

  She looked desperately around the room for a key, something to remove the shackles from the small scared little girl. She leaned down to the man in white brushing his legs with her hands trying to feel for something that could undo the locks; keys, a knife, a pick, a fucking hack saw.

  There was nothing.

  “Where is the key? I need the key, where is it?” she said to the girl.

  The girl didn’t reply; she was in a semi-catatonic state. The Woman ran to the table and scoured through the metallic objects throwing them around the room, her urgency lifting, in the back of her mind; standing over her conscious state she could feel The Behemoth and his army of goons rushing after her wanting to kill them both.

  “Where the fuck is it?” she said screaming to herself.

  She ran back to the man lying dead on the floor and brushed against his entire body.

  “They must be here” she said to herself again, this time tears welling in her eyes and her voice crackling under her growing dismay and negated defeat.

  “No, no, no, no, no” she said. “Where are the fucking keys?” she screamed.

  Her heart pounded faster, her hands shook more uncontrollably and her tears were impossible to hold back as she saw the young girl willing her to run with a muted cry from her wide sad blue eyes.

  The Woman stopped; her panic unyielding.

  She fell to the floor.

  She grabbed the length of the chains and pulled on them drastically trying in vain to tear them from their mooring.

  She couldn’t leave The Child, not like this. There had to be some way to free her. As she got to her feet a door outside closed and the sound of marching loudened in the hollow corridor until it stopped outside her door.

  The handle turned and light flooded into the room.

  0011001100110111

  “Go” she said, her long hair covering her face, her hand reaching down to the boy curled on the floor pushing him into waking panic.

  Ruff was on all fours barking at the girl, pouncing back and forth with saliva pouring from his mouth, his fur on end, his ears pinned back and his tail low to the earth. The boy jumped from the floor and reached for the hook but it was too far from where he stood; leaning backwards with both hands held high defensively, protecting his face.

  The girl stepped around the dog who avoided her direction and instead continued pouncing away and barking, far from the potential swing of her arms of legs. The boy was stepping back and cowering.

  The girl laid her right hand on the boy’s shoulder and her left on his face; the warmth from her hands healed the cold disappointment that bored its way from the centre of his heart through to the pores of his skin. Her hair covered her face but he could see the morning light reflecting in her eyes and there was a colour he had never seen before; an emerald green and skin so fair; unhurt by the age of abandon.

  “Donal, we have to run, a storm is coming” she said.

  “I don’t know who you are. I’m waiting for my father and my sister. They’re meeting me here. I have to wait” said Donal, his bravery taken away from his voice, now sounding like a forgotten Child; stranded by the side of the road, catching every second that passed by, waiting for mother and father to remember that they had left their son behind.

  “Your father has gone on without you. I saw him; I spoke to him and you’re your sister, Safrine. They are safe, but we must go, we are At Danger here. They will meet you by the boat. Your father asked me to help you get there. You have to trust me Donal, we have to go” she said with urgency.

  The dog was still barking but his eyes were out in the distance where the sound of thunder roared louder and from the horizon, a thin line spread up over the sky, growing like the rising of a black sun; a wave of uncelebrated devastation; coming, as one, with destruction as the principle of its canvas.

  The boy stood aghast and not believing; he had never seen such an amount of people in his life. His grandfather had told him about this; that this would come, but he had counted it as just another drunken tale, something to keep the Child at fright so they didn’t wander off alone in the night. There was a poem he would tell the kids to scare them into sleep;

  “When the tide of man lashes upon the tragedian shores, only the flight of love will carry you to salvation’s door” said the boy, recanting what his grandfather had sung to him as a young boy.

  He looked out in all directions, and felt the stampede vibrating to his feet through the loose gravel and shifting earth. He looked down to the dog which was by his side barking and growling at the coming threat, then looked at the girl standing before him, pulling her long black hair from her beautiful face, her emerald green eyes glimmering against the morning light, and a large black heart, drawn upon her chest.

  His eyes cast on the heart as he recanted the song again. As he sang, his mind filled with the words while his eyes followed the girl’s moving lips, but there was no trace of her words.

  “The flight of love” he said, looking at her chest.

  “Donal, we must go” she kept screaming eventually getting through to the boy who took her outstretched hand and ran with her back along the alleyways out in the centre of town where hundreds of White Hearts paced nervously and ran about shouting incomprehensible orders.

  They ran past the Child Market where Donal quickly turned his sight hoping in vein to see his father or hear his voice and then again, as the flood rushed upon them, he hoped that his father and sister were safe, far from this imposing danger.

  As they passed the cathedral they saw an old man in black with a white collar around his neck; on his knees speaking to his palms; the heels of his feet shaking wildly in the air behind his body as his head bowed into wilful submission and fustian prayer.

  The girl pulled on Donal’s arm and; with the dog in tow, they continued their dash past the cathedral, down along the winding streets, past the tallest building downtown where the main entrance stood for once; unguarded. Down they went for several blocks with the horrendous roar on their shadow still deafening and urging them on.

  They ran until the boy collapsed under a sign reading Metro; out of breath and accepting of whatever fate scoured through the streets glued to their scent. The boy keeled over, the strength in his body obliterated. The dog lay down beside him, its hind legs pulled flat against the ground stretched out behind its body and the girl in white with a black heart on her chest, standing upright, seemingly unfazed, watching as the dog and boy fell into needed rest.

  “My name is Eve” she said.

  “I’m Donal” he said.

  “I know” she replied.

  0011001100111000

  “Sir, she’s gone” said the White Heart.

  “What do you mean she’s gone? How did she escape your sight?” said The Behemoth.

  “The sky sir, the sun, I’ve never seen anything so….”

  “Find The Woman now. Focus. We don’t have much time. War is already upon us. She can’t have gotten far in the minutes she was out of your sight. Take as many men as you can and scour the complex. She must be with me on that vessel, do you understand?” screamed the Behemoth.

  “Yes sir” said the White Heart.

  “Love as one” said The Behemoth.

  “Live as you love” he said, marching out of the room and running down into the complex desperately with several other soldiers, screaming directions at one another and tearing through every room, turning every stone and hacking at every blade of grass as The Behemoth, staring out of the open window, felt his grip slipping.

  Everything was happening too fast.

  The Behemoth took some objects that were lying on Marcos’ desk and filled them into a black rucksack. He took one last look outside the window. The wave was coming; and fast.

  Below him, hundreds of White Hearts stood prepared for war but their preparation was not for this. They stood in rings around the complex to shield the initial blows as the wave with all of its feverish force swept obstinately, upon their roost.

  The White Hearts; all in a state of one; a readiness for war, were never meant to be anything more than a human sandbag, slowing down the initial impact, to give the generals time to man their vessel and set their course, and none of this was in their training.

  The men below the entry stood staunch expecting only mild violence and for which they had a driving thirst. The White Hearts in the outer rings focused their minds on the orange hue of The Forever New Dawn but with every second the thumping of feet pounding on pavement grew louder and closer and with every breath, a dark ominous shadow fell over their minds as the orange hue gave way to a pitch black as their Forever New Dawn became a quickly setting sun.

  “Prepare to launch the vessel” screamed a general below.