A Cold and Heartless Lullaby -Chapter 2-

The girl lay across the soft bed of the pod, a clouded rubber oxygen mask obscuring half her face. Leper hardly knew where to start, it was all happening so fast. Her tiny chest rose and fell in movements so subtle it could have been a trick of the light. Then she shifted in her sleep and Leper flinched. She’s alive. 

Trembling, he released the straps and lifted the mask away from her face. The rubber edge had left a permanent indent in her delicate skin. Skin, which Leper suddenly realized, had become stark white, like ivory. Her hair had changed too, like white glowing fibers. But despite the way she had paled, her gentle features still spoke of the same ten-year-old girl the world had once known. Somehow, the pod had altered her over the years, but how could that matter when she was alive? Blackened rot! She’s alive.

Fear pierced Leper’s soul and a hoard of anxieties poured out of it. She could wake at any second. He needed to do something. Anything. But there were a thousand things to do. Leper tried to calm down, forcing himself to take one step at a time. The pod had supplies for when she woke up, if he was lucky they would still be there. Soul still pounding, Leper fumbled with the bottom compartment of the pod, finding a bag of water and navy blue one-piece pajamas inside. It wasn’t much to keep out the cold but anything would help more than the thin white hospital garment she was wearing.

Leper’s hands shook as he lifted her frail form, fearing she would snap as he slipped on the clothes. He laid her down and stepped away. Although she didn’t shiver, frost had gathered on the metal of the pod and Leper feared the garments weren’t enough. He took off his cloak and placed it over her.

She can’t stay here, he thought to himself, The bugs nest near here.

But I can’t move her either, he argued, she’s too weak. What if she wakes up during the process? Rot. I’ll need to find her food. Leper knew that if rations were to be found, a journey into the outskirts was inevitable.

Previous trips to the old warehouses had left Leper empty-handed, but that didn’t mean there was nothing to find. With another anxious look back, Leper thought to close the pod and keep her out of danger but when he set a hand on the lid he couldn’t bring himself to shut it. What if it never opens again? What if she suffocates? Leper forced his fingers to release their grasp, hoping she would be fine.

…

In his urgency, the journey out of the rubble cavern seemed quicker than the journey in and when he emerged from the ruins he picked up his pack and slung it over his shoulders. The old storage warehouses were on the southern side of the city, on the outskirts. Food had been discovered there before, but that was years ago.

 Trudging through the frozen ravine, it dawned on Leper just how dangerous his world was. Sharp metal stuck out from unstable piles of debris. Anything living that had outlasted The Collapse had become monstrous and hostile. Every day earthquakes threatened to crumple the planet even further. The cold never ceased. Factions of convicts were at war, left behind to survive on the carcass of a once-thriving world. How long have I been living like this? Anxiety took hold and Leper broke into a sprint.

What are you doing? He thought to himself. Do you want her to wake up, scared and alone?

“I need to find her something to eat,” Leper said, his processed voice a lonely echo in the desolate ravine, “she’ll starve if I don’t.”

Right now?

“Yes.” Leper started up the ravine wall, plotting his course to the warehouses in his head as he ascended the electrical line.

You’re afraid of her, aren’t you?

Leper stopped, partway up the cliff. Am I? 

He glanced back at the pile of rubble. From up on the cliff, it looked like nothing more than a heap of scrap the Afterworld had forgotten. Now he knew what was below it. Something about that knowledge left a dark impression on his soul as if horrors waited underneath.

“Maybe I am,” he said, “but it changes nothing about her necessities.” He continued up the wall. The warehouses were just south, through the leaning tower gate. 

…

Within a minute the two towers were above him, still barely supporting each other. A new feeling of unease gripped Leper’s soul, in a way it never had before. He felt as though they would collapse at any second, but by some marvel, the towers held together as they always had.

Why are you afraid of her?

Leper kept moving, drawing closer to the warehouses as he trudged through the snow.

You were looking for her for years, why are you running away?

Leper slowed to a stop. Wind wailed through the streets, blowing snow and frost. His wind wheel whirled above his head. For a moment Leper stood there, conflicted.

His hand reached down to where his stomach would be and felt in between some metal plates, flipping a hidden latch. The tiny compartment opened and as he groped around inside his fingers gripped something. Decades ago he had decided that he would never take it out again. He had decided it was better left forgotten.

Hesitation kept his hand suspended in place inside the compartment. Memory failed to recall exactly what it looked like. All it would take is one slight movement and he would see it again. Leper closed his eyes, carefully removing the small object from its chamber and gathering his courage. The pulse of his soul counted the seconds before Leper opened them again.

In his hands  was a small plush winged jerboa. Two rope legs dangled from the round body, the feathered wings flopped limply and a single black bead eye peered out from underneath long flat ears. The other eye had gone missing years ago. The toy could have been a fragment of memory but as Leper gently squeezed he could sense its resistance. He caressed it with his thumb, wishing he could feel the texture of the fur. Stained, matted, frayed, tangled, it didn’t matter, this was his offering.

“What am I doing?” Leper shoved the animal back in the compartment. Something metal clinked inside.

With the compartment latched, Leper turned on his heel and sprinted back. What were you thinking? She could be waking up this very second. There was no time to answer, Leper grabbed hold of his line and flew down the ravine. Dropping his pack he dove into the opening in the rubble and crawled into the cavern again.

Everything remained exactly as Leper had left it. She still lay sleeping peacefully in the pod as if he had never left, her heavy eyelashes fixed to her face as she dreamed silently. Soon she would wake and see the terrors of her new world, a world she never deserved. Leper knelt beside her, the weight of it all pressing down on him. For a moment, he considered trying to wake her up, to get it all over with. No. It was better to let her sleep. He sat back and crossed his legs. There was nothing left to do but wait.

…

Hours passed while Leper sat. It was like time stood still, the girl barely moved. Decades of apathy had trained Leper to sit and watch the sun move across the skies. He had sat for an entire week before, but somehow this felt longer. With every fleeting second, tension built up inside of him. 

Leper was sitting staring absently at the base of the pod when she coughed violently. Leper started, torn from his thoughts by the abrasive noise. She tried to move, leaning weakly over the bed as she hacked up fluid. Leper hurried over to her, kneeling as he arrived,

“Kia,” he said, “You’re awake.”

“Father?” She groaned, suppressing further coughs. She struggled to sit up, her weakened muscles giving out.

“I…I’m not your father, he…” Leper sighed, “It has been a long time, Kia.”

She turned her head and blinked groggily, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Leper knew the moment her vision cleared because he saw fear ignite in them. She screamed, pulling her blanket over her head and curling up into a ball. Leper stepped back, holding out his palms as if to calm her.

“Kia,” Leper said, “Your father told me to watch over you when you woke up, he was a friend of mine. You’ve been in stasis for a long time.”

Kia peeked out from under her blanket, but when she saw Leper again she let out a squeak and ducked back under, beginning to cry.

“You’re not real,” she said weakly. “This is just a dream.”

Leper sighed, “Sometimes I wish that were true.”