Burned Lips

The pavement was cold to the touch, Ember’s skin cringed against it as they shifted onto their side. Sweat trickled down their forehead, It must have been another nightmare. Ember leaned up on their elbow and gritted their yellowing teeth. The sound of quite snoring and relaxed breathing filled the room and as Ember took a deep breath before getting up, smoky air filled their lungs. Carefully they tip toed around the other sleeping bodies to the broken coat stand held together only by pre-used packing tape. After taking a worn-in denim jacket from one of the hooks. Ember then took long steps across the room trying to avoid waking any of the five people curled up on the floor. After only three long steps they had reached the window. Ember slowly opened it and crawled through it onto the fire escape. The clang of their combat boots on the rusting metal sent a few resting birds a soar but all else remanded still. They huffed trying to remember what their dream could have been about as they cultured down the railing.

It was year 54, the war had been destroying Europe from the inside out. It started in the beginning of the twenty first century after China made efforts to take over Russia, when the rest of the continent was soon forced into fighting the middle east took the opportunity to invade Australia. North America sent its forces to help its allies but complications with trade and loyalties in south American and the middle east keep American forces from reaching European shores. With the war being the main focus on the government’s mind average life was thrown into turmoil as population dwindled and the gap between social classes widened. The modern things that people had come accustom to were almost completely wiped out and entertainment was a luxury only to the extremely wealthy.

Ember being only 24 had never known the pre-war world, very few did remember the rain of the internet and technology. But that was over now, no country could afford it, especially America.

But Ember, while a war child, still hadn’t figured out their life, hadn’t figured out a job or a way to get out of the slum. But until then Ember would stay a street rat scrambling for money like the majority of Americans. Very few work opportunities were offered to those in the ghetto trash, low on funds Ember searched the streets for any jobs they could take.

Fog cover the street as they trudged down the alley way next to their building. They paused before stepping out onto the main sidewalk, taking a deep breath and smelling all the smoke and pollution. Physically and Emotionally preparing themselves for what was to come. Walking on to Hercules dr. Ember eyed around themselves carefully as they moved along. They watch as more people came onto the street walking with the same crossness and intentions. As they grew closer and closer to Mercy lane the crowd of people grew more and more. Soon about fifty street rats covered the entire street forming a swam of job hungry hoodlums. Ember picked up their paced when the two blonde men in front of them started to jog a head of the crowd. Slowly everyone with fully functional legs broke into a sprint. Ember saw a concerningly skinny women be pushed down to the ground by a rather tall teenager. Ember heard her cries of pain and only pictured her getting trampled by the crowd, half of them wanted to go back and help her but they could the street sign for Mercy and their pace increased. They start hearing more yells and cries but Ember blocked them out simply trying to keep themselves from joining the screams. Separating from the majority of the crowd they joined the more athletic people in lead. Though Ember may not look it, they’re rather fast. They could see the trucks, four of them, two less than last time. Muscular men stood in the beds and held up red signs that with white number that told the limit for how many people they would take. Those men were called matadors they drove their trucks down from the Goldman’s palace to choice workers to do handy work. Ember spotted the highest number and raced towards that one. Sixteen. They felt someone elbow them in the shoulder, they winced but kept running. Ember could start to hear the muscular man count off people as they leaped onto the trucks.

“Five….Six….Seven…”

Ember turned their sprints to full blow leaps. They were arm’s length away from the truck when they felt a tug on their jacket. Ember was yanked backwards, they twisted around to try free themselves from this person’s grip. When they turned they saw a older women, fire burning in her crystal blue eyes. She readied her fist to punch but they moved first and kicked her in the shins. The lady falls back onto the pavement and Ember turned around just as they heard her body hit the road and her yelp of pain.

“Fourteen…..Fifteen..”

Ember scrambled onto the truck bed, the lower half of their body hanging of the back.

The matador looked down at him, “Seventeen, sorry kid.”

There was a grin across his face as he stepped forward and kicked Ember across the face with his muddy black boot. They fall to ground, unable to move from the pain as the trucks began to drive off down Mercy lane.

Ember could taste blood as they sat up, they couldn’t feel it, but they knew their nose was broken. They took a minute catching their breath, cursing themselves for not being fast enough to make it onto a work truck. They stood up slowly and felt their head spinning as they stumbled forward back towards Hercules. Walking past the wreckage of the crowd of people. Ember saw that the people that had been stampeded to death were already scrapped for their cloths, and saw a small man scalping one of the blonde men they saw earlier, Ember silently thanked God that it wasn’t them. Then they noticed one of the bodies was still breathing, the skinny woman they had seem be pushed down. Her limbs where bent in ways they shouldn’t be, her greasy thin brown hair puddled around her as her stomach slowly moved up and down. Ember saw that most of her garments were gone except a dirty bra which wasn’t even on her all the way. They shivered and kept limping till their feet ached too much to walk anymore. They sat down in a small alleyway, they leaned against a trashcan a watched as the rest of the fellow losers of the work race hobbled back to their closets and shared rooms. Ember ran their hand through their long dark hair and heard a clatter from down the alley. They shifted themselves to look down the space between the two looming buildings. Two men stared back at them. One of them was around six three, buzz cut brown hair with a busted lip and clothes that clearly don’t fit. The second, a shorter dude with longer black hair and a thick beard.

“Hey there.” The tall one said, and as he did, he licked lips.

Ember immediately knew what they wanted, they just weren’t sure if they could provide what they wanted.

“How much you paying boys?” They asked, bending out a bit.

The short one stepped out and shook a coin bag, “We got fifty for the both of us.”

Ember smiled at the two as they took it to thought, fifty cents would pay for their rent month and a few meals. They needed this money, but their body might not make it through it.

“Come on.” The short one said stepping closer, “We don’t see a piece like you every day.”

The blood dripping from their busted nose was suddenly more noticeable as the two boys stared. Ember pushed themselves up to meet their level, “If you like me so much then why don’t you raise the price?” they tried to say in their sweetest tone.

The two men looked at each other and frowned, they began to walk past ember.

“Wait!” they grabbed the tall one’s arm, “I’ll do it as long as you don’t rip my clothes.” They took a deep breath and let go of him, “What do you want exactly?”

The ravened-haired one stepped forward and ran his fingers down their cheek, “First, I want you to strip for us baby.”

Ember took a gup and followed his orders.

. . .

It was almost sundown by the time Ember returned home, after their trick with those two boys they spent half the money on three loafs of bread, not fresh of course, they didn’t live a life of luxury.

Once they made it up the fire escape on through the window, they noticed most everyone was gone. Including them only three people filled the room. A younger man with sandy blonde hair who Ember didn’t know too well sat in the corner writing something in an worn notebook. Ember believed his name was Philips but it wouldn’t surprise them if they were wrong. Then, sitting next the window was Ember’s favorite person in the world, Barbra. She sat crisscrossed reading the only book she owned, the bible. Barbra and Ember had read verses together all the time, they were sure they had the read scripture at least five times over. They admired her thin face and short gray hair as they sat in front of her.

The older woman looked up at them, ‘Any work today?’ she signed.

It had taken them a year, but after they learned that Barbra was completely deaf, they spent hours a day teaching themselves asl so the two of them could communicate. They’re glad they did too, with Barbara being 71 she could tell them stories of the pre-war times which filled their mind with hope.

‘Not on the trucks’ they signed back.

Barb shook her head, and took one of the loafs of bread, ‘Then where did you get this?’

Ember looked down, ‘Other kinds of work.’

She leaned forwards and lifted their chin, ‘There are places that will treat you better for doing that, you could get out of this slum.’

‘But I don’t want to do this, I only did it because I couldn’t get on the truck. I’ll get on it tomorrow. I promise.’

The older women frowned at him, ‘And then what happens? You’re terrible at manual work. You’re fast but you’re not strong. Do what you’re good at, get out of here.’

Ember merely shrugged and took a bite out of his bread. ‘What if I like it here?’

She smiled, ‘I won’t be here forever you know.’

They met her eyes and matched her smile, then stood up and left barb with the second loaf and retreated back to the fire escape. Before they could to the window however they were stopped by Philips.

“Hey, Amber right?” He asked, his voice softer than they excepted

“Ember.” They corrected.

“Right, sorry, I’m Philips I was just wonder if you could spare a few bites of that bread.”

They shrugged, “Got beaten of the work truck?”

“Overslept.”

Ember’s stomach churned, they knew someone who’s excuse was “overslept” wasn’t worthy of the bread that they bought. But Ember would be the first to admit that they were a bit of a push over.

They teared off a few inches, “Just a bit.”

Philips beamed, “Thank you so much, I really owe you one.”

“Yeah you do.” Ember said with a twang of sass in their voice.

After Philips sat back in his corner and consumed his food in two quick bites ember retreated back outside. Sitting on the railing they could see a few people returning home on Hercules, their silhouettes showing against the sunset light. They began to think about what Barbra had said to them, about working for a playhouse. It was something they had considered before but being a street rat was all that Ember knew, how could they leave that behind? They didn’t even know they were crying until the tears dripped onto their palm.