Some Thing Called Myself (Complete)

XV: something's crawling

Ch. 15: Something's Crawling

Mara sighed and let the mop fall on the floor for the ninth time. She snatched it again. This would be her sodding third day in the Sentinels, and all she had done until now was take classes, clean stuff, fail at finding clues about mom, and receive death threats.

She put more weight on her upper half and leaned forward to clean a specially large blotch of dried blood. Front. Back. Front. Back. Locks of rebel hair slipped from her loose bun and curtained the scene around her. It was better this way. The square looked a lot better now, but Mara still preferred to avoid looking at whatever still remained of the carnage if possible.

"Hey. Are you okay?" Bernardo asked in a whisper. He stopped and supported an elbow on his mop. Like Mara's, Bernardo's cheeks were blushed, his face covered with a thin sheen of sweat. "I know this is not the most exciting job, but this place, as messed up as it is, is filled with the best Sents in each division, and it's safe. Finding a cockroach is already uncommon; two is rare, but three is just impossible. You have nothing to be afraid of."

"I'm not afraid of insects. And cockroaches are actually quite tragic. If they're running toward you, it's 'cause they want to hide in your shadow and not...I don't know. Eat your brains or something." She huffed to blow a lock of hair out of her eyes.

Bernardo's expression darkened. "Yeah. A zombie is the one thing I'd kill on sight in this type of situation." He pointed to the ground as if to show the mission they were in. "Too unpredictable; too many people to protect."

Mara hummed. She didn't answer, Bernardo's words still bouncing in her head. She finished cleaning a blood stain and started another, closer to where he stood.

"I just"—she stopped again and huffed; Bernardo chuckled—"thought that being in the cleaning crew meant more than just cleaning."

Something scurried at her right, too fast for her eyes to catch it.

Bernardo raised an eyebrow, lips curling up. "Cleaning is only part of the job, Mara." He stopped and looked at her for a moment, studying her with a growing smile. "Did Mimi tell you anything about cockroaches and almas-de-gato? I don't think you have the right kind of cockroach in mind right now."

"She...might have." Sadly, Mara hadn't paid any attention.

"Okay." He chuckled. "Bear with me; I'll try to explain it. A cat's soul is...born after someone messes with the fabric of reality too much. They're wisps of Life Force that, uh, crystallize to life, shaped by good feelings. Cockroaches are similar—except they're filled with fear, and they act on it like Mandra in that book you love so much."

"With violence?"

Bernardo nodded. "And, quoting you, an unbridled will to do no good."

"Okay." Mara hummed. "So we have to keep an eye out for these cockroaches?"

"Exactly." He went back to scrubbing the concrete. His voice dropped in volume. "A place like this, with so many deaths, is bound to have a few of them."

"And if I see any?"

"You run," he said.

Something cold swirled in her stomach, so Mara nodded and went back to mopping. Her hands slid down the wooden shaft of her mop; something or some things broke her skin.

"Son of a pig!" she roared. The mop fell on the floor—again—and Mara locked a grunt in her throat. The pain was nothing like breaking your damned shin in half in a protest, but right now, it was pretty close.