Where it belonged

Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh...the heavy metal locket swung back and forth on the chain hanging from his belt as he stealthily moved closer to his target. Only moments before the perimeter alarm had been triggered and he could still hear movement in the bushes ahead. It was another night raid by the unfortunate souls, otherwise known as nomies, who were caught living in this world without the protection of a tribe.

Mark, the scout, was lucky to have fallen in with a nomadic clan who had formed in the fall of civilization only 5 years prior. Mark had only been eight years old but he had seen most of his neighborhood razed by the military in some sort of sadistic slash and burn chess move at the end of the last world war. Among the casualties were Mark's family. He lost them in the chaos. As he was running from the bombs with his mother and little sister, they were all knocked off their feet by the blast of a building only feet away. Mark remembers grabbing at his mother and catching hold of the necklace she wore every day. It was a heart shaped locket handed down to her from her mother and it was all Mark had left of his entire family.

After the bombing, Mark had been picked up off the streets and cared for by Kerrin himself. Kerrin was a young twenty-something survivor who quickly became something of a local messianic figure as most people quickly gave into the grief and fear of what was happening around them by turning to religion to fill their need for understanding. He adopted Mark as his protegee and Mark was in no position to argue or complain. He did as he was told, for the most part. Lately, however, some of Kerrin’s demands and “inspired actions” were getting bolder and slightly questionable, like setting up fatal booby traps for trespassers and demanding that all newcomers to the group give up all their possessions and privacy. Still, for now, Mark was safe; or, as safe as one could be when the world is falling to pieces around them.

Mark moved closer to the bushes, ready to spring out and surprise some ragged nomie and hopefully get it to run away. But as he peered over the hedge, he saw that it wasn’t a nomie at all; it was his little sister, India, and she was hurt. Her hand and her head had been bandaged although not recently. Her wounds were dirty and she smelled bad, but Mark could tell with one look that it was her. His heart was full to bursting but he knew he had to get her some help before celebrating. Mark took off the coat he was wearing and wrapped his little sister up before taking the locket off of his belt and putting the chain in her hand. He kissed her head and told her he would be back with help before sprinting away towards basecamp.

When Mark got back to camp and burst into Kerrin’s quarters, he could barely speak but finally managed to explain what happened and how he needed help for India. Kerrin was concerned and shouted for men to come assist and they did, picking up Mark along the way so that he could show them exactly where to go. Mark directed the crowd through the broken streets of the city until they reached the perimeter section where he left his sister. She was gone and there was no trace of her. No markings where he put her. No coat he wrapped her up in. No locket. Gone.

It was only then that Mark realized his sister had been four the day the bombing happened and she looked the same today when he found her. She had not aged at all. That was impossible. He ran back to where she had been and searched again for any sign when suddenly something glinted in the grass. It was a golden chain. Mark tugged on it and pulled out the heart shaped locket and, with a deep sigh, he fastened it back on his belt where it belonged.