A Cold and Heartless Lullaby -Chapter 4-

Leper watched Kia cower at his metal form with a gnawing sense of regret. For fifty years he had searched for the pod, not even sure if it would still be intact, let alone functioning. In all that time he never considered what he would do if he found it.

Trembling before him was a little girl, and waiting behind him was a world woefully unsuited for her. She would be living a waking nightmare, confused, and in many ways, alone. It was no life for a child. Regardless, she was awake, and this was her reality. There was nothing else he could do.

“Kia?” Leper whispered. She just curled up tighter. “Kia, open your eyes.” She let out a groan. “Kia, I won’t hurt you.”

“Go away!” She cried, muffled by her blanket. Leper sat four strides away from the pod, giving her space.

“Listen to me,” he said, “I can help you. I’m the only thing that can.” Kia didn’t respond. “Things have changed since you went to sleep. You were sick, it was the only thing we could do, but you’re okay now.”

Kia slowly peeked out from under her blanket, staring wide-eyed at the andron before her. 

“You’re metal.” Her voice was hoarse. 

“As I said, it’s been a long time. The world has changed since you were last awake.”

She hid again at the sight of his movement. You know what to do. Leper closed his shutters and—switching the latch near his stomach—he flipped open the compartment, carefully extracting the plush jerboa. He held it in his hand, stroking its fur with his thumb. He had held on to it for so long. It almost felt like a part of him. His fingers were reluctant to hold it out.

“Some things… haven’t changed,” Leper said. Kia peeked out from under the blanket. When she saw the jerboa she poked her head out, her long hair falling over one eye.

“Jerby?” she said in disbelief.

“It’s yours.” 

Kia crawled cautiously out of the pod, the blanket wrapped around her as she approached. She kept a wary eye on the metal andron before her, but once she was close enough, her attention locked onto the toy. She grabbed it hastily as if expecting Leper to attack, but when she had it in her hands she relaxed.

“Jerby!” she exclaimed, hugging it tightly. The tiny thing disappeared into her arms.

“Kia,” Leper said. She peered fearfully back up at him, her lips gently parted. “The Afterworld is a dangerous place, and if I am to keep you safe, I need you to trust me.”

Kia met his gaze, “Who are you?” 

“My name is Leper, I’m an andron and like I said, your father entrusted me to keep you safe. Only I could wait long enough for you to wake.”

“How long have I been asleep?” 

Leper stopped himself before he could answer, “…Kia, it’s been a very long time.” She looked down at the ground, 

“Oh…”

“How do you feel?”

“Weird.” 

“Do you think you could travel?”

“Where are we going?”

“We can’t stay here. It’s not stable.”

Kia registered her surroundings for the first time, “Where are we?” 

“Inside a scrap pile,” Leper explained, “I have a hideout not far from here but we’re going to have to take the long way up the ravine.”

Kia nodded, but Leper knew she was still clueless. At least she wasn’t cowering under a blanket anymore. Keeping her distance, she followed Leper through the passage to the outside world. It was a long journey. He kept checking over his shoulder to make sure she was still there, but she always was, cloak bunched up over her shoulders and jerboa in her arms. She had no trouble fitting under the low ceilings. 

Sunlight was absent when he reached the exit and Leper cursed to himself. He could see the golden starlines glimmering above the ravine, briefly visible between passing clusters of orbiting debris. More time had passed than he had expected.

“Woah,” Kia said, appearing behind Leper, “Why are there so many starlines?”

Leper had forgotten how sparse they had been. Kia would recognize only a few of the constellations. I guess more changed than I thought. Despite the starlight, the ground at the bottom of the ravine was engulfed in shadow. Keeping his head down, Leper navigated the rubble and Kia stumbled after him, the ground beneath her dimly illuminated by the strange glow of her hair. The mutilated head of the beetle corpse appeared in the boundaries of her light and she let out a shrill scream. Leper snatched her away from it, 

“It’s dead!” he snapped, keeping his voice down, “but the rest of them aren’t, so keep quiet!” 

She hid under the cloak, breathing heavily. Leper grabbed her by the shoulder and lifted the hood from her face.

“Look at me,” he commanded. She avoided his gaze. “Look at me.” She glanced up at him with teary eyes.

“Pull yourself together,” Leper said, “you’re fine. We still have a long way to go.” 

She nodded reluctantly, eyeing the darkness where she had seen the beetle.

There was a narrow pathway up the ravine that Leper had found years ago. It was the slowest way up, but also the least treacherous. 

Keeping close against the rocky wall, Kia followed tentatively behind him. For Kia’s sake, he was glad the height of the ravine was obscured by darkness. Leper couldn’t tell what she was feeling, but walking barefoot in the snow, she didn’t seem as cold as he would have thought. Perhaps it was a side effect of the pod, same as the glow, or perhaps she was simply good at hiding her discomfort. Regardless, Leper wanted to get her to shelter.

Without warning a tremor shook the ground. Dust rained down on them and the rending of metal squealed out from the ravine as a pile of rubble collapsed somewhere within the darkness. A swarm of beetles popped out from their nests, fluttering away into the dark sky, red spots in their abdomens glowing. Kia screamed, muting herself with the blanket as the bugs scattered. Leper watched them fly away in pairs, their red glows fluctuating. Good, he thought, it’s mating season. They won’t be very interested in us. 

“Keep moving.” Leper said.
The tremors diminished and Leper pushed forward through the snow. They were almost to the top. Kia kept quiet as they made their way out. 

Desolate skyscrapers towered over them as they left the ravine behind, forming silhouettes against the night sky. The golden starlines reflected in the dull metals of Leper’s body, wrapping around the curvature of limbs and curving across the clouded glass of his faceplate. He slogged through the snow, forging a path for Kia to walk in as they trudged towards his hideout. 

With every step, his anxiety grew. Every shadow was a bug. Every tower was tipping over. He kept wondering how he had managed to live in such a hazardous city for so long. It felt like hours had passed when they finally reached his hideout. Leper pushed the chunk of concrete away from the entrance and motioned for Kia to step inside. She eyed the pitch-black interior with a look of trepidation and did not move.

“Go,” Leper demanded. Kia flinched at his voice and forced herself to enter. Leper followed after her, letting the concrete fall back into place behind him. The darkness quickly subsided as his apertures opened wider. In such minimal light, Kia’s glow reached all four corners of the room. She stood in the center, hugging herself, her gaze darting about wildly.

“Leper? Are you there?” Leper switched on his light. 

“I’m still here,” he said, realizing her eyes would take a while to adjust. Kia squinted at him, wrapping herself tighter in her blanket. 

“It’s so dark…” she whined.

“There’s nothing I can do,” Leper said, “The lights don’t turn on anymore.”  He surveyed the barren room, there wasn’t even a place to sit. “Listen, I’m going to head back and see If I can get your pod, you stay here.”

Kia cried out as he reached for the door.

“No!”

Leper stopped and glanced back at her. 

“Please don’t leave me here all by myself,” Kia said weakly, “…I’m scared.”

Leper sighed, “You’ll be fine, as long as you stay here you will be safe.” 

Without looking back he pushed open the entrance. He could still hear her protests as he closed it behind him, but he ignored her. One foot after another he kept his pace towards the ravine, leaving her further and further behind. A part of him stayed with her. Like a cord, it tied him to her, and with every step, it became harder to keep going. Leper stopped.

“This is for her own good,” Leper said. He gazed at the shimmer of the snow in his flashlight’s beam. It cast long dark shadows from the tallest resting flakes. For a moment the shadows seemed to grow longer.

She will hate you for this. 

“I don’t care,” Leper said, taking another step, “She needs to face the darkness. There are far worse things for her to worry about.”

He began walking again, slowly. The cord holding him back slackened a little and he picked up his pace. 

You never learn.

Leper once again rappelled into the ravine. He stumbled over the scrap heaps until he found the beetle corpse and he knew he was close. When his flashlight passed over the entrance to the pile his soul seized. It was gone. The entire pile had collapsed in on itself. It was nothing more than a flattened heap. Leper stood locked in place, dread seeping into his soul. If they had left only a moment later they would have been crushed.