Prisoner 0004C

12 Seconds After Aliyah is Knocked Out

"Ain't enough, sweetheart," he croaked at me, exhaling smoke from his nostrils.
I glared at him and begged myself not to cough.
"It's exactly what you asked for," I snarl up at him, pushing the paper bag into his chest.
He opens it and sticks a filthy hand inside. He rummages about the contents of the bag before grinning, revealing cracked, yellow teeth and a foul odour.
"You're right, sweetheart."
The knot in my chest loosens slightly and I nod, extending my hands for the payment.
"But I need more now," he says, before taking a long drag on his cigarette.
"What? No! We had a deal!"
He raises his eyebrows. "Sorry, hon. No more, no payment. That's just the way things are."
I snatch the paper bag off him. "Well you can go fuck yourself then," I snarl turning to walk off.
A sudden hard, cylinder object is being pressed into the back of my skull, and I hear the click of a gun.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you, sweetie."
I grit my teeth, and feel blood pulsing in my head.
"Now here's what's gonna happen. You're gonna give me the stuff, and I'm gonna let you go, no questions asked."
"And the payment?" I snarl through gritted teeth and a set jaw.
He laughs mirthlessly behind me and the gun bounces slightly against my head.
"I think we can agree that after your little display of rudeness before you don't deserve payment."
The knot in my stomach tightens painfully.
"No..." I whisper, half pleading.
He laughs again. "Sorry, sweetie but it's a tough world we live in. Bring me some more and then maybe we can talk payment."
He snatches the bag off me and pulls the gun back away from my head.
I turn and glare at him, his eyes triumphant.
"Aw, a pretty girl like you shouldn't be so angry," he hisses sickeningly, raising the hand with the gun and tracing the barrel down the side of my cheek.
I pull back and he laughs, his eyes glinting.
"See you later, sweetie." He chants to me as I storm from the alleyway.

Things have been tougher for me and Lucy after the raids, and Teren is getting harder to come by. I storm home, feeling sick with hunger. I climb the stairs to the office building we've called home for the last three months, feeling despair.

As soon as I reach the last landing, Lucy opens the door with a bang, her revolting scarf tied around her waist. Lucy has got the unhealthy pinching look to the face that besmirches the appearances of so many in N.New York. The look of starvation.

She sees my expression and falls back, her eyes darkening with contempt. I enter the small office of James Crawfed, CEO. I am not sure what James was the CEO of, but his office has long since been ransacked, the only remaining evidence that this office was once his is the printing of his name and title on the glass window set into the wooden door.

"You should let me go out." Lucy mutters, looking up at me from the floor, her dark wide eyes empty and cold.

I try to associate this strange, hopeless new being with the excited eight-year-old and her make do present but I cannot. Ten-year-old Lucy is wildly different.

"No." I mutter, pulling a pouch from my jacket and examining the contents. It's been six weeks since the Organisations last issued out the supposedly weekly ration cards, and venturing out is becoming increasingly dangerous. Riots are springing left right and centre, and the bodies of the starved are littering the streets.

"Why not? You were going out when you were ten! I want to help!" Lucy cries out furiously.

"It was safer then," I reply harshly, pulling the two remaining ration cards from the pouch. I've been saving these for desperate measures, and we desperately need them now. Only enough to supply us with the minimum of rice, and dried fruit. Barely enough for one person, let alone two. Usually I would give all the food to Lucy, but I need my energy if I am going to source more Teren, and confront Sniper.