What Was Left

                                                What Was Left
We called it the Box. It was a stupid name really; the crystal dome was anything but box shaped. Still, Ace had been the one to christen it, so we just continued to call it the Box.  The Box was our small colony’s only means of salvation. The people inside the Wall called them Hydro-gardens, and in this day and age, it was the only way anything would grow on otherwise barren soil after the skies turned red.
The land here is utterly empty; nothing but bare rock and dirt, swirling in eddies with the wind until the rain settles the dust once more. The only green now comes from the carefully maintained hydro-gardens in the Inner City, and the slime that coats the rubbish they dump so carelessly into our home. The blue sky of the old days is nowhere to be found, and in its place is one that burns a fiery red. Great clouds of acrid smoke choke the air, letting through only the palest rays of light from the sun above. On rare days, when the winds blow holes in the thick smog, one can see the heavens burning even after so many years. Looking out across the empty plains, I can see the carcasses of hundreds of those ancient airships responsible for these blood red skies. The rampant fires churn the air, whipping the clouds and smog into a rolling slurry that charge across the empty wastes, unchecked.
When the skies began to burn, so did the crops that kept the world fed. The poorest were the ones to be sacrificed first. Food and water vanished from their countries overnight, sucked away to keep those in power and money fed. The privileged of society was kept blind to the atrocities that were taking place all around the globe. After all, why should they have been bothered with such news? It was when the riots and famine struck the heart of their countries did they finally take action. They built great walls around the few surviving metropolises, and stationed armed guards at ever route in and out of the cities. Then they watched the rest of the world tear itself apart. Second born children, orphans, became illegal. Hunger drove even the most humane politicians to make laws that would have been deplorable in a more civilized age. One home, one child, and any who could not fend for themselves outside of those towering Walls were cast out of it. We became…extra. Expendable. I don’t think it ever sat well with Ace.

Regardless, it’s why we live out here, on the fringes of society. The people within the walls call them Ruins. Like a bad nightmare everyone would rather forget, they hide behind their partitions from the skeletal remains of what had once been a way of life. Rusted girders stick out of the ground in fantastic twisted shapes, sheets of old siding or metal still clinging to them in some places. This derelict city lies at the foot of the Wall, like a beaten dog at the foot of its master, and from on high, it must look as lifeless as the plains that stretch beyond it.  But from the streets, I can see signs of life everywhere. Places where the earth has been trampled flat under countless pair of feet. Great steel girders stick out of the ground like some half-buried skeleton from a forgotten age. I could see where the decaying steel had been bent to the will of a strong hand, scorch marks scarred at the points where tits strength had finally yielded and bowed to meet the ground. It’s here that these structural remains became the frame work for new dwellings, walls of plaster and brick replaced by shoddy tin and cloth patchwork. Not all of these ancient buildings had succumbed to such decay. Dotting the landscape, those halls made by truer hands and hearty stone still fought against the decay of time. They stood as proud reminders of an age long since dead and as faint glimmers of hope to us that had so little to hope for. Even so, such sanctuaries would not last forever. Already, the years had begun to take their toll, chunks of the architecture gone with age, time or force. In places, the destruction hangs open like a rotting wound. But whatever these structures may be, we outcasts call them home. Those of us that banded together, those of us that managed to survive; we live off of the scraps of the society that cast us out.

Animals. Thieves. We hear the names the soldiers on the Wall call us. They think they’re better than us, as if we didn’t all bleed red. But to them, we were still “Retec”, outcasts, and pariahs. It isn’t our fault. We’ve had to become what we must to survive. “Surviving” was never good enough for Ace.

I think he knew we all looked to him for guidance. Ace just had that power over all of us, that charisma that had all but gone extinct out on these lifeless lands. His heart bled for each hardship we endured; almost to the point I feared it would drive him mad. One day, I thought it finally had. Ace simply vanished, no trace of him to be found, nothing missing, no sign of a fight from a rival colony. We looked for two days, scouring the Wall’s perimeter for any sign of him, only to come up empty again and again. It was when we’d given up hope; he came trotting back to camp, dirty, bloody and weary. Still, a beaming smile stretched from ear to ear and clutched in his hand, was the plans for one of the city’s prized hydro-gardens.

I don’t know how he’d managed to get them, and I never asked. We spent weeks, picking through garbage, scavenging what we could from the Ruins, and even stripping ourselves of whatever few possessions we’d managed to collect in this world. We dug up the earth, using whatever we could find to break its surface. Some we softened, tuning the soil back into the ground as metal walls slowly rose around its edge. Some we fed to the fires, molten crystal glass boiling from the loam, and spun into a magnificent bowl to fit over the top of the ramshackle construction. It took every hand of our colony and the blessing of whatever deity was watching to move that massive chunk of glass, unbroken, onto its final resting place. I think we all stopped breathing when its full weight rested atop the scavenged metal walls, and it was only Ace’s voice that broke the uneasy calm.

“Pandora’s Box,” His baritone cut through the silence.
“What?” I questioned him, not expecting such a comment, “It’s not a box.”
“I know.”
“So… why call it a box?”
“The name fits.” He said simply.
“Pandora’s Box held every ailment of mankind inside.” I pointed out.
“Exactly.”
“Then why the name?”
“Because,” He said, a radiant smile flashing across his face, “It just fits.”

I don’t know why, but the name stuck. We hardly used Pandora’s name, simply because many of the younger ones had more than a little difficulty with the forgotten tongue. So it became the Box. Even I started to call it that after a while. In some crazy way, Ace was right; the name just fit.

I find myself standing outside of it now, doing nothing more than looking up at it and watching the pale sunlight strike the glass, only to shatter into a thousand pastel colors upon the ground. The Southern squalls were fewer and farther between, slowly losing ground to the fierce storms of the North. The clouds now had almost completely obscured the burning sky, leaving the Earth below to cool and freeze in a mockery of the gentle seasons of old. The wind is beginning to pick up, and I feel the first drops begin to pepper the ground and the back of my neck.

I can hear the sound of celebration ring throughout the rest of the colony, flooding the Ruins with a new pulse of life.  We finished it today; the last components that would soon be responsible for sustaining the tiny sprouts came to life with a vibrant hum that became a full throated cheer that spread throughout our numbers. It worked, after months of agonizing labor and single-minded determination, it worked. Now all it needed were the seeds that would give us a chance in this harsh landscape. In some ways, that one task alone was going to be harder than building the Box itself.  I feel an involuntary shiver creep along my spine as I look up at the box one last time, before I turn and head for the celebration.

I can see the fire, even from the opposite edge of the Ruins and briefly wonder who had managed to drag one of the big gas burners so far out into the street. For a moment I think about hunting them down and telling them off for endangering such a precious piece of equipment, but there’s too much joyous laughter in the air that it drives the thought from my mind. Some are dancing around the towering flames, circling around them to the beat set by their audience, though none are quite brave enough to violate the unspoken boundary between them and the glowing fire. Save for one.

I knew it was Ace, even though he is obscured by the flames when I joined the group before the dancers. But I know he is there. I can tell by the way the fires suddenly seem to swirl, lunge and balk as their territory is suddenly encroached by a courageous soul who desires this untamable force of nature as his dance partner. He is visible for only the briefest of moments, as a bright piece of metal sweeps through the orange flames. I catch a glimpse of his eyes through that break in the fire. Blue, though hardly the icy color, or pale sheen that accompanies such a shade. No, his shine with that elusive hue that burns at the heart of the fire before him, needing only another spark more to coax out the inferno that lay in wait just below the surface. Now, as he spins around the edge of his fiery companion, his broad shoulders weave effortlessly through the reaching tendrils of the flame, as the scrap in his hand molds the flares as effortlessly as a potter moulds wet clay. It is a hauntingly beautiful work of art in itself, each step and flick of the wrist choreographed by the ages themselves. The orange glow reflects dully off of his ragged t-shirt, and appearing to ignite his normally midnight locks with the molten shine almost melding man and flame into one entity.

I was sorry when the performance came to an end, a new group stepping up to occupy the open floor. It takes Ace only a moment to spy me amongst the crowd, and make his way over next to me as I step away from the merriment. He catches up with me before I get too far, a thin sheen of sweat still on his brow.

“Enjoying yourself?” He asks with a light tone.
“I’d like to see someone try not to,” I reply, without looking away from the festivities, “It’s not every day you see everyone so happy.”
“No….” Ace agrees, slowly shaking his head, “It isn’t, is it?”

We stay like this in silence, neither of us saying a word, but both thinking the same thing. We wanted this to last, to stay like this for the rest of time. Smiling, laughter? They were things that were forgotten when a starving belly constantly clawed away at you. We may have been fortunate in comparison to some of the other settlements, but we’d seen our share of death. A silent beckoning to those too frail or ill to continue on and the devastation it always brought on us, no matter how hard we tried to steel ourselves against it. But it wasn’t just the weakest of us. We all were wasting away, one day at a time, back into the dust that blanketed the plains just beyond the threshold of our sanctuary. The Box was our one chance to escape this fate, and now that we were so close, our goal had never seemed farther away.

“We have to make this work,” I say at last, looking to the Box.
“We’re going to,” Ace said with determination in his voice, nudging me as if even suggesting failure was ridiculous, “I’ll make sure of it.”
“Heh. I don’t doubt it Ace,” I say shoving him back, “You always seem to see us through.”

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It was a while before the fires died away, even after the rain began in earnest. Steadily, the tired members of our colony dropped and gave in to the cold and sleep, settling a blanket of calm over the Ruins. But not all of us would sleep tonight. There’s nine of us now, gathered in a makeshift hut to hide from the chilling rain, waiting for Ace to return from his rounds to check that everyone was asleep. It doesn’t take long, before we hear a rustle outside and Ace’s wet head pokes inside.

“What are you guys waiting on?” Ace grins, his teeth visible even in the dark, “We’ve got seeds to steal.”

A quiet cheer of approval goes up as we file out of the hut, and after Ace’s form retreating into the darkness. A whistle above stopped our progress, and we pressed ourselves to the sides of the crumbling ruins, melting into the shadows and veiling ourselves with them as if they were second skin. There was the barest flicker of motion, as Ace’s hand flipped forward and our small raiding party dashed for a nearly unnoticeable drainage pipe embedded in the thick of the Wall’s structure.
My eyes stayed firmly glued to the Guard station above us, watching in case any of the soldiers decided to get a jump on their shift. The sound of giving metal groaned behind me, the sound hammering against my ears even though I knew full well the sound would never reach the top of the Wall. A quick tap on my shoulder signaled our departure, and I spun around on one heel and vaulted effortlessly into the dank pipe like I’d done far too many times before. I did a quick head count as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, ensuring everyone was still with us, Ace pulling the pipe’s rusted grate back into place behind me as everyone moved forward.  
The shadows take on a life of their own when they surround you on all sides; a crushing consciousness that you feel on the edges of you own but never quite pin down. After a while, you fail to notice it’s even there, the darkness seeps into your very being and becomes a part of who you are. Once I adjust to being totally blind, the world itself shifts into a brand new spectrum. I’m now very much aware of the smell of stagnant water, mixed with powerful chlorine tablets I know do nothing for the smell, nor the bacteria that infest the liquid we’re crawling through. I can hear the sloshing of each member of our expedition, as they wade through the muck, doing their best to keep quiet. Time stretches indefinitely, until you think you’ve lived your whole life in the blackness, when logic tells you it’s only been a couple of minutes.
Three quick taps on the pipe ring harshly against my eardrums, after nothing but the sound of shallow breathing and sloshing water. I look up to see a light spot growing in my field of vision, getting brighter and brighter the closer we get to it. The silhouettes of those ahead of me slowly take shape, then color seeps back into focus to fill in the shades of grey and black. At last I reach the end of the conduit, taking a surreptitious glance around before dropping out and to the ground.  Someone makes a joke about the sludge that covers us being an improvement on what we normally smell like, but I’m too busy taking stock of our surroundings. We’re in an old pumping station, used only when it rained hard enough to make the city flood. The Wall that keeps us out also does a fairly good job at keeping the torrential downpours that plague us inside. We’re lucky this particular station has been inoperable for quite some time now; otherwise someone would have surely noticed our little trips in and out of the city.
“Everyone make it ok?” Ace asks, pulling his large frame through the small opening, “No one dead yet?”
“Cody already smells like he’s dead,” Rai gags jokingly from the back of the group, grabbing for his throat, “Does that count?”
“If I’m dead, whats’at make you? Sewage?” The retort came.
“Have you seen what we’re covered in?”
“Alright, alright,” Ace cuts in, “That’s enough from both of you. Now, we all know what we’re here for. We have two miles to go before we reach the safe house where these people are keeping the seeds we’re after. Rai and Cody, you two are on tech. Mariah and Sam, you two distraction. The rest of us get in, grab, and get out.”

He gets quiet for a moment, carefully choosing his next words before speaking again.

“If this goes bad,” He says slowly, “I want you all to run and not look back. Forget the seeds, forget everything and just run.”

A murmur of discontent runs through our ranks at the very thought of such a thing happening. It happened sometimes for runs to go bad, but to drop everything was unheard of.

“Ace,” Cody pipes up, “If we don’t make this work now…it….it never will.”
“I know what’s at stake,” Ace says evenly, “And it’s not worth so many lives.  If they catch you with those seeds, you’re dead where you stand. We’ve survived this long, and we’ll keep going longer if we have to. But we’re going to pull this off. We’re going to hold our heads high when we go home, and we are going to take back our lives!”

A quiet cheer ripples through the group, along with a rush of adrenaline as we scale a stack of metal crates leading to the roof. One by one, we slip out onto the roof, and move together through the shadows cast by the stacks and metal housings of the machines that served the buildings below. We’re in an older part of the city now, where the buildings are still standing independently of each other, yet the gaps between them were an easy jump to cross. As we draw closer to our goal, the buildings become a complicated maze of connected structures, with a few openings at their bases to allow the foot traffic and security skiffs through. Beyond the Wall, there are few things that had to be committed to memory, but no one even dreams of treading where we do now without learning these rooftops by heart.

It is an agonizingly slow process, despite Ace leading us from safe spot to safe spot in the now pouring rain.  I bring up the rear of our rag-tag caravan, checking over my shoulder even though I know there’s no way anyone can see us through the descending veil of water. I wonder how Ace can see, but the doubt that he could lose his way never enters my mind. I’ve known him since my earliest days in the wastes beyond the city, and never once known him to fail us.

The group ahead of me stops suddenly, everyone breaking off into their assigned groups. Without my notice, the rooftop had changed from the newer composite materials that comprised the network of buildings to the feel of reinforced concrete. I head for the downspout that is siphoning the torrential rains off of the rooftops, breaking the hinges of its grate before folding my arms across my chest and jumping down the new opening feet first. The black water closed around me, its metallic taste working into my mouth and nose as I come barreling through the chute. It’s over almost before I realize I had even jumped in the first place, as the narrow ductwork opens into the storm drains below. I have to fight for a moment to break the surface of the surging waters, but manage to catch the access ladder and pull myself free from the churning current.  I make short work of the ladder, and drag myself up to the drain cover. I brace myself against the slippery wall of the shaft to free both hands to wrench the cover off and stow it safely between the ladder’s rungs.

The facility is absolutely silent, save for the soft hum of the freezers and storage equipment packed into neat, organized rows. I haul myself from the damp drain, drying myself as best I can before venturing out into the main building. Most of the freezers around me are worthless, containing the slumbering seeds of flowers, weeds and other once plentiful foliage. A part of me hopes they will be again one day, but we won’t be the ones to rouse them. Not today, at least. A stir of movement draws me to my goal, familiar faces now visible by isolated patches of light. I draw closer to them, opening an adjacent freezer labeled “Fruit Trees”. The door swings open with the barest hiss of compressed air, as a rush of cold air comes flooding out at me and pools at my feet. Inside, hundreds of drawers sit marked and undisturbed, each with dozens of foil packets cataloged neatly within.

I waste no time pulling a pouch from every one of those drawers, keeping careful track which ones I’ve already taken and which ones I still need, so not to take any more than I need. We may be stealing them already, but we weren’t out to obliterate their stockpile either. I finish quickly with the first freezer and move on to the next, our full group now hard at work gathering the start of our new life. It’s hard not to want to laugh and cheer with such a promised bounty at our fingertips, but I both give and receive jubilant looks that say far more than any words could. I start on the last freezer in my section when someone ahead of me trips over one of the cooling tubes for the row. She catches herself, but a wet suction noise rips through the still facility, as the tube tears away from the freezers.

I watch as time stops. For a brief second, I can see the horror on everyone’s face and the frantic attempt to force the coughing tube back into its rightful place. But it’s too late. Every light in the depot flares to life, as a piercing Klaxon screeches our intrusion to the world, the noise itself paralyzing us. It’s disbelief, an unwillingness to believe we’d managed to come so far just to fail when success was in our grasp. I only move when Ace’s voice cuts through the commotion.

“RUN! “

We scatter, a flurry of motion rushing in all directions. It crosses everyone’s mind to bolt with their bags full of hard won spoils, but no one does. I can’t bring myself to do it. I take a last grab at the freezer in front of me, snatching up one more handful of the pouches before throwing the satchel over my shoulders. I flee for the drain, my legs moving as fast as they possibly can carry me, only to see a wave of security forces come rushing across my avenue of escape. One of them notices me before I can duck out of sight and a barrage of shots ring out and pepper the ground and storage freezers around me.  I scramble back down the row for cover, bullets ricocheting above my head. I manage to turn a corner into an empty corridor just as the officers level with my row and open fire again.  I don’t bother with stealth any longer, as I fly down the hall, frantically seeking any other way out. But there’s nothing. Door after door is locked tight, heavy screens dropping across other walkways just ahead of my stride. I hear the heavy footfalls of the security team getting closer with every step I take. A clang sounds behind me, and a hand shoots out and grabs me by the collar to yank me through on open door. I land hard on my back, the air in my lungs rushing out from the force of my fall. I sweep a leg out, trying to unbalance whoever now shared space with me.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! I just saved you, don’t try and kill me!”

I look up at the familiar face, and start breathing again as Ace reaches a hand out to help me to my feet. He looks me up and down to make sure I’m alright, and notices the bag on my shoulder with a palpable note of concern. Of course, I do the same, and it’s far from lost on me he’s carrying an identical bag. I know he had something to say, but a pounding on the door behind us interrupted any change he might have had to say it. He pulled a chair from its resting place and sent it flying through a nearby window, making our only exit to freedom. He shoved me through first before following through himself, as the door gave way and the security teams came pushing into the now empty room. I can help but laugh now, looking back over my shoulder and seeing a dozen guards try and force their way through the one hole in the building after us. Even Ace had a grin on his face and takes one last look as we round the corner and vanish from view.

“You’re supposed….to just drop…everything and….run!” Ace chides me between breaths as we fly down the deserted back alleys.
“We had…one shot at this Ace,” I remind him, looking at his pack, “And you’re…guilty yourself!”
“I told you guys…” He smirked, “I wasn’t going to…let this fail…”
“Yeah, sure…” I roll my eyes, “You…just want to be the...hero.”

We both laugh again, relishing in the feeling that we’d never have to do this again, that we’d never have to worry about our next meal. It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before, a carefree elation I wonder if everyone in the city gets to enjoy. It doesn’t last long. A second later, the scream of the security’s skiffs reach out to our ears. I jerk my head in the direction of the closest sound in time to see one shoot past through the walkway gap in the buildings. I hear Ace swear, and then snap his head over his shoulder, as two more of the skiff came roaring up behind us.

“Split!” He shouts over the now deafening racket, “Meet back at the Pipe!”

I don’t wait for him to tell me twice to veer off down an adjacent alley, as he bolts in the opposite direction. I don’t look back, but hear the sound of scraping metal as the skiffs behind us had to overcorrect to change course to follow us. I focus my attention on the dark alley in front of me, straining to see through the sheets of rain still dumping from the heavens above. A flash of bright light floods the alley behind me, accompanied by the angry rev of an engine. I look for another way out, but the walls here are solid with no promise of an opening for my escape. The alley is utterly devoid of anything save the flow of water underfoot, and the remnants of some construction project lying forgotten on the pavement.

A silent prayer runs through my head, as I stoop midstride to grab a length of pipe from the pile. It’s just barely long enough to span the distance between the two walls on either side of the path, and catches in an invisible crack to stay firmly wedged in place behind me. I force whatever energy isn’t already being used to carry me through the flooding alleyway. A hear a scream behind me, as the pilot sees my bar a second too late, and clotheslines himself going into it full tilt. He goes flying in one direction, while the skiff keeps going until it meets its end in a wall. I don’t look for long; I can see tiny gaps starting to open in the buildings as they start to age before my eyes. Our exit isn’t much further ahead now, as I turn into an opening on my right, ready to leave this place behind. It’s just not ready to let me leave.

Floodlights suddenly flare to life in front of me, blinding me even through the veil of rain. Angry voices shout from behind the light, and I try to turn and flee in the other direction. But the water’s made everything slick by now, and it pulls my feet out from under me. It doesn’t make a difference; I look up from the water in time to see a security team close in on me from all directions. A hand grabs me by the hair, pulling me from where I’d fallen. I lash out and catch him across the jaw with my fist, freeing me from his grip, only to be caught again by two sets of strong arms. I feel them strip the satchel from my back, and someone striking me across the face for struggling to get free. I taste blood for a moment, and spit the metallic taste at the nearest of my captors who just laughs at the futile gesture.

“Whad’ I tell ya’ Rick?” The man I’d spat on laughs to one of his squad, “They’re the only animals left in this world! Just think what this place would be like if we didn’t kick ‘em to the wastes!”
“I hear ya,” The other agrees reaching to his hip. There’s a dull glint of black metal in the bright light, before I’m staring down the barrel of a gun. “Whatd’ you ya’ say we put this one down?”

I try to wrench my arms free one more time, but the men holding me will have nothing to do with it. The only thing I can do is squeeze my eyes shut and turn my head away from the muzzle. But I don’t hear the gun fire, instead I hear a battle cry from somewhere to my left and the whine of one of the skiffs before the familiar shape slams into the men in front of me. The two holding me let go to rush to their comrades’ aid, but one drops to the ground before he can go two steps. I open my eyes to see Ace pulling me forward, urging my feet to work on their own. I don’t know where he came from, or how he knew I was in trouble, but right now I couldn’t have been any happier to see him. I grab my dropped bag and rush after his retreating form towards the old pump house, leaving the tangle of guards in our wake. Ace must not have decommissioned all of them though; several shots ringing out and hot metal flying past far too close for comfort. I see Ace up ahead stumble, as a bullet plows into a building just ahead of him. I grab him as I rush past, pulling him until he finds his stride again.

We slip into the pump house, throwing our weight against the heavy door to lock it from the inside. I slide down the door, panting hard, while he leans against a stack of old crates for support. A cough rasps from his dry throat, before he slides down to join me. I wonder how long it will be before the security teams figure out where we’ve gone, then hear their growing voices start to close in on the building. We both get up, moving towards the pipe’s entrance, when Ace as pulls his pack off of his back and holds it out to me.

“What’s that for?” I ask, taking it from him.
“I need to close the grate,” He coughs again, “so security can’t follow.”
“Ok,” I nod, adjusting the new weight so it hangs on my chest and stepping up into the pipe, “I’ll see you soon.”
“Yeah,” He nods, “Now hurry up and get moving.”

I turn and run, the sounds of the angry men behind us now filling my ears as I scramble into the pipe and push my way into the slurry. I don’t bother with stealth this time, the foul water soaking me as I work my way through as fast as I can. The sound of metal clangs shut behind me and I listen for Ace coming down the pipe after me, hearing the slosh of water that accompanied him.
Coming back through the pipeline, even going as fast as I can, seems to take twice as long as it had going the other way. But just the sight of a faint glow now coming from the other end of the pipe fills me with a joy that I can’t describe. Voices and shadows pass in front of the opening as I tumble out, panting hard, but still managing a triumphant laugh. We’d done it. We had the seeds, and never again would we have to risk our lives inside of those walls just to scrape a few more days out of our lives.
I look up at the faces of my friends, handing over the bags I had brought with me, while someone helps me back to my feet. They were shouting and whooping in elation, one raising the bag over his head as if it had been a prized trophy of our achievement.  As I joined them, I gradually noticed how their cheering dies away. The smiles fade from their faces, to be replaced by a look of utter horror. My eyes flick from face to face, until I realize their gazes have all settled on me. I scoff and try to lighten the mood, rubbing away the sticky muck I feel clinging to my face.
“What’s wrong you guys?” I laugh a little uneasily, “Do I have something on my face?”
“I-it’s not just your face,” Rai stammers, his normally bright features suddenly ashen, “It’s everywhere….”
“Have you seen yourself?” I snap back, unnerved by the attention, “That muck’s all over you too ya’ kn-“

I stop midsentence, as I pull my hand away from my forehead. Just like I suspected, it comes away covered in the same foul smelling sludge I had just crawled through to get here, but it was… different somehow. I didn’t remember that sickly copper smell lingering with it before, or how it dried in a sticky mass, rather than like the cracking mud it resembled.

It was strange. I never remembered when the color drained from my vision to stain my memories in various shades of black, grey, and white as to keep me so blind to the newest quality the muck had acquired. And now that I look hard at the handful I hold, the colors come rushing back in sickening clarity. It was red; blood red. The crimson tint seems to stain everything in a wash that was far too plentiful, and I was covered in it. It’s coated my hands, arms and shoulders; taken refuge under my nails to dry into a hard crust. It’s ingrained itself into the very weave of my clothes, like some chromatic parasite that no amount of scrubbing would ever remove. Had I been able to see myself, maybe I could see how it was thick in my hair and on my face, or how it had taken the shape of a handprint on my right arm. But right now, I can’t see anything else but the scarlet right in front of me.

I remember starting to shake, taking stock of my own injuries for the wound that could be responsible for such a grotesque picture. Until someone asks the one question that brings the spinning world around me to a grinding halt.

“Guys? Where’s Ace?”

I feel my heart stop in my chest, as the terrible realization dawns on me. How Ace had leaned a little too heavily on those crates, how he had stumbled a second too late for that bullet to have sailed past him, and how I had missed the fading fire in his eyes as he told me to run. For the second time today, a pair of arms wraps themselves around me as I lunge back for the pipe. I hear a cry sound above the storm, but don’t realize it’s coming from me. It’s not a human noise, rather a lament of nothing more than raw anguish and despair.

It hits that I’m drenched in his blood, and I begin to frantically scrub at my arms to remove the stain. The water pouring off me runs red, then pink and clear, before beginning to turn pink again. Rai grabs my hands to still them from their efforts, but he doesn’t realize how I can still feel the blood there on my skin. But I don’t fight him; I can’t. Every last bit of strength drains away from my limbs, filling them with lead in its place. Despite the fact I know it must be near morning, the world seems to dim in reverence, as I drop to my knees before the pipe and let my tears mingle with the rain pouring over my face.

-------------------------

It’s been a month since we lost Ace, and the heavens haven’t stopped weeping since. I’m thankful for it, since the drizzle hides the sorrow that never seems to stop pouring from my eyes. Life hasn’t been the same anymore, at least not for me. Sure, we all mourned for him, and his sacrifice, but slowly life has been returning to normal. And I feel guilty for hating it, and being a part of it. I started taking up his daily chores, as well as my own, simply for something, anything to do to get my mind off of the hole that was eating away at me. It was a few weeks before I realized our colony had already replaced him with me. I wasn’t ready for him to be shuffled out.

I don’t feel any different today, as I sit next to his empty shelter, looking up at the hole in his sloping roof. No one else ever had holes to worry about when it rained, because he was always there to fix them. Maybe if he hadn’t been so ready to sacrifice his own well-being he’d still be here now, and I wouldn’t be the one everyone was looking to for the guidance he was supposed to give. I realize as I look out to the horizon that a part of me still expects him to come strolling up with the sun at his back, grinning just as wide as he had the day he brought us the plans for the Box. I keep praying for some glorious act of deux ex machima that will bring him back to us, only for the gods to remain idle in those burning heavens. Soft footfalls come up from behind me, and I recognize the subtle heft of Cody’s step though I don’t bother to turn around.

“It’s not fair,” I say out loud, hearing him come up behind me.
“It’ll happen to all of us some day,” Cody says somberly, knowing exactly what plagues my mind, “Death hides behind all of us.”
“It’s not that,” I shake my head, “It’s how quickly everyone’s forgotten about him, how what he did to save all of us will just fade away the longer time goes on.”
“We’ll remember, you and I, and the rest of us who knew him will never forget.”
“And when we’re gone?”

Cody fell silent, having no response for that, but I wasn’t done.

“I feel like I’ve let him down already,” I say, feeling hot tears start to well up again, “His sacrifice will never be known, and as soon as we’re gone there’ll be nothing left of him.”
“He did what he had to do to save all of us,” Cody tells me, trying to make me feel better, “He knew what he was doing would be worth it.”
“Worth it?” I scoff, feeling the tears sting, “He kept this place, us, alive and happy! He gave us hope things would get better when things were at their worst! Everything that made this home for us was because of ACE!”

I hear the echo of my voice carry throughout the Ruins, but didn’t care who else did.

“And now he’s gone,” I croak, feeling like just admitting it sapped the strength from my body, “And we’ll never have that back.”
“We have you.”

I look up at Cody, not expecting such a response from him.

“You’re right,” Cody nods, “Ace is gone, but you’re not going to let him down. You’ve kept us safe and fed, most of the time at the expense of your own well-being. The way I see it, there isn’t anyone better suited to keeping his memory alive.”

It’s my turn to lapse into silence. Whether he was right or not, it still didn’t feel right, like the whole world had decided to stop spinning that day and then start up again in the opposite direction. Everything familiar was now backwards, upside down and three sizes bigger than I could recall. It was just all wrong. Cody seemed to sense he wasn’t going to get anything else from me, and began to walk away before the rain started again.

“Ace brought back a couple little ones just before…,” Cody pauses, not quite sure how to say it, “They’re good kids. You should take some time to meet them.”

His comment meets with silence still, but he knows I’ve heard him.  I don’t move again until I can no longer hear his retreating footsteps. It’s not so much that I was trying to avoid heading back into the Ruins, but that meeting little ones…..It was something Ace always had done.  

I get to my feet, my movements slow and deliberate since the weight of that day seemed to linger on in my every motion. I hardly pay attention to where I’m going, letting the well worn guide of the road carry me to my destination, freeing my mind to remain sitting next to Ace’s abandoned shanty. Who knows? I might have just kept going, plodding along one foot in front of the other until the wastes claimed me as their own, had it not been for the slightest tug at my sleeve.

My reverie gone, I look down to seek out the culprit to find a young boy whose years I could no doubt count on both hand. A girl stands next to him, most likely around the same age, her green eyes peeking fearfully out from behind her friend. Almost as soon as I look down at the two, the boy cringes away, but does not run off as I thought he might. A hollow shadow of a smile flickers like a ghost across my lips for an instant, as he takes a deep breath to steady himself before he addresses me.

“I-I…I’m sorry, b-but we’re just looking….We d-don’t know the camp….” He stammers pathetically, the words dragging from his mouth in a tangled mass.

I don’t know why, but I drop down to his level, squatting on my haunches so I’m looking him in the eyes. They were an odd shade, a dusky brown, light enough to almost be golden even in the poor light. It was faint, but I could see the barest flicker of life behind those amber irises. A will to survive, despite the terrible truths he’d been fed. The girl was no different, though far more timid, she too shared her friend’s spark that seemed to bring warmth back to my heart.

“You guys are new here huh?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
“We’ve been here a few weeks,” The boy mumbles, “The man who brought us said he’d show us around when we first got here…But then h-he….”

I saw tears well up in both of their eyes, and instantly felt guilty for the ones that waited beneath the surface of my own turbulent emotions. Ace had been the one familiar thing in this new world to them, now they had nothing and for the last month, no one. Before the tears become a full-blown river, I feel a gentle smile crack my face for the first time in weeks and I reach out to the both of them.

“Hey, hey…” I try to soothe them, “It’s alright. I promise it’ll be ok. How about I show you around?”

I feel a little stupid making the suggestion, after all they’d been here for a while now and most likely knew their way around our meager territory. Still, it seemed like the right thing to say and their faces slowly brighten once the words are out of my mouth. I hold out both hands to them, their little ones each wrapping around mine as I stand back up and lead them through the streets.

I walk slowly so they can keep up; pointing out the different buildings and places they’d need to know eventually. Sometimes the boy would ask a question, the stutter from his voice slowly fading away until at the very end it was gone. I can’t think of a way to end our tour, and so instead, I stand with them at the edge of the Ruins, looking out across the wastes. I almost jumped when I heard the little girl speak for the first time.

“What was Mr. Ace like?”

I laugh. I don’t mean to, but I can’t help myself. “Mr.” Titles were for those slick dressed men we would see on great posters in the city. I just couldn’t picture him in one of those crisp suits instead of the grimy clothes he always wore. I don’t know why, but it helps me to talk without my voice breaking

“Ace…was the most wonderful person you could ever meet,” I say, for the first time letting the happy memories I had of him come through, “He would always tell the best stories at night when it got cold. He would dance with the fires when the colony comes together to play, and always told the best stories. He was nice to everyone, and cared more about other people than he did himself.”
“You were friends, huh?” The boy says.
“Yeah. For a long time.” I say quietly, before having to change the subject or risk crying again, “Come on. There’s still one more place you haven’t seen yet.”

It’s not a long walk before we’re standing just outside the Box. I glance down at the two, watching them stare up at the structure in awe. Most of the kids that come to us have never seen a hydro-garden in their life, but every last one has heard about them. A grin creeps over my face at their reaction, and I kneel down next to them as they continue to stare.

“Would you like to see inside?”

I hadn’t been expecting the two of them, being as small as they were, to have been so strong. They literally haul me to my feet again and were dragging me towards the entrance. Anxious as they were to see inside, they were patient with me as I push the heavy door open to the inside. A warm smell was the first thing to come rushing out at us, but it doesn’t smell like the exhaust of the machines that were working to give the structure life. I beckon for them to follow my into the small foyer where we were keeping most of the equipment used inside the bulk of the Box.

“Alright you two,” I say, opening the door into the garden area itself, “Now it’s pretty new so it may not look like too much just yet, but-“

I stop midsentence, the breath for my next words falling from my mouth without a sound. The bare soil I remember from my last visit over a month ago was nowhere to be found, and in its place lays one carpeted with new green shoots reaching out of the open air above.  My eyes swivel around of their own accord, slowly adjusting to the glow of life creeping along the ground. Almost in a dream, I leave the kids standing in their own disbelief and stagger to the nearest plant poking out of the ground. I drop to my knees, unable to hold myself upright any longer and reach out to the tiny leaves waving to me.

The kids behind me erupt into a barrage of questions, each plowing headlong into the next before I can understand what was just said. But I can’t speak. My voice has utterly deserted me, as I hear Cody’s run through my mind:

“He knew what he was doing would be worth it.”

I understand now. I get why this place was so important to Ace, why he sacrificed himself to ensure it would not fail. I understand why he gave this crystal dome the name Pandora’s Box. And now I know how his own name will never fade into oblivion, no matter how time may wear away at it. I turn to the kids, fighting back my crumbling voice to keep it steady enough to speak again.

“Do you kids know the story of Pandora?” I ask hardly above a whisper.
“No, why?”
“Ace called this place Pandora’s Box. He was the one who told me the story a long time ago,” I say, “They say Pandora was a beautiful woman sent by the gods to Earth. They gave her a magical box that they said contained the greatest treasure in the world, but told her never to open it. And for a while she didn’t, but one day she couldn’t resist any longer and opened the box ever so slightly, just to peek inside. When she did, a thousand bad things burst out into the world; sickness, war, famine, death.”
“That’s not a treasure!” The boy shouts, almost angry at me, “Why would Ace name such a great place after something so terrible?!”
“Because Ace knew a secret about that box,” I say, looking at him with a quivering smile.
“What was the secret?” The girl asks timidly, her eyes staring at me as if I were the only person in the world right now.
“When Pandora opened the box, all the bad things in the world got out,” I continue, taking a shaky breath “But not everything escaped. You see, the secret thing was all that was left inside Pandora’s Box, and without all of those bad things packed in around it, it finally had room to grow.”
“We’ll keep Ace’s secret! You can tell us!” They both shout now.
“Don’t worry. I want you to promise me you’ll tell everyone that comes here what it was that stayed inside the Box.”
“We promise, we promise! Tell us! What was left?!”

I look down at the little shoot next to me, and the blood stained foil packet next to it marking the row.

“Hope.”