The Runaway

Chapter 11

Later on in the day Calice (or whatever she wanted to be called) sent them out onto the balcony for some fresh air. Robyn leant against the railing, tapping her cigarette against the metal and watching as the ash fell off the end. Mabel was sitting with her legs crossed, against the wall, hands on the rail next to her and looking down. Valerie was staring out onto the horizon, trying to make out the figures below. The city was a bustling life force - from up at their height she could observe hundreds of people milling around in the nearby market place - Calice one of those many pushing and shoving people as she tried to get some food for the week to feed her refugees.

Something suddenly caught Valerie's eye - a demonstration of some sort was happening down in the square. A group of Security guards were combing through the crowds carefully, obviously looking for someone or something special. Valerie swallowed hard and ducked her head. Chances are that they were looking for any escapees - for them. If they were caught they’d be screwed.

Don't worry, love. They're not going to look up here. Besides, I'm pretty sure they're looking for someone else - one of their own.

"Ro, see that? Something's going on." Valerie pointed down to the crowd.

Robyn glanced over and shrugged. "Not my problem."

Valerie chewed her lip. "I'm going down there. I want to see what's happening."

Robyn nearly chocked. "Are you crazy? You can't just waltz down there, you'll get caught and arrested on the spot. You're lucky if they don't put a bullet through your brain!"

Valerie tapped her fingers on the banister. "I need to get out, Ro. I can't stay pent up in here. Just for a while. I'll be careful. I'll even wear a disguise."

Mabel snorted. "What sort of disguise would hide you that much?"

Valerie shared a smile with her confused friends. "You'll see."

***

 Minutes later Valerie was out the door, wrapping her ratty grey shawl around her shoulders and head, hiding her brightly coloured and very distinguishable hair.

She took a deep breath before merging into the crowd and being carried along. Around her hundreds of older, impoverished women wore more or less the same, rags wrapped around heads to keep from having to look people in the eye. The younger ones walked with their heads held high, carrying an air of urgency as they swam through the crowds with young families in mind. Men and women swarmed out of buildings, joining the crowd which proceeded towards the market. Every time a street corner was reached, groups would break off to travel up lonesome streets to their shabby apartments. Younger kids stood on steps and climbed up poles, playing games or simply looking for someone to pickpocket. The plucky one braved the crowds, dipping between legs to steal. Girls as young as ten stood outside of dilapidated houses, wearing next to nothing and inviting visitors in. Valerie watched them with avid curiosity. If she hadn't joined the Institution she might have well become one of them, mattered hair and wounded identities. She shuddered at the thought.

Pay attention, hon. Don't want to get lost now, do you?

Valerie fashioned a path out of the crowd, moving into a small alley, the walls covered in paintings of all mediums, shapes and sizes.

She ran her fingers over the colours, eyes wide with awe. Such pretty paintings, all locked away in the middle of nowhere where they couldn't be appreciated. She was tracing out the pattern of an hourglass when she realised that she was being watched.

Turn around slowly and walk out of here! The voice screamed in her brain.

She turned to find herself face to face with a shaky gun.