Chapter Text
The junkyard was masked in its usual quiet when a slight girl ran through its heavy metal gates. Her labored panting was the only sound for miles.
Raen had run farther and faster than she'd ever had. Finally, she collapsed face-first into the nearest pile of rusted cogs and thrown away gears, clutching her chest. Her feet ached. Her lungs burned. Every fiber of her being screamed for rest. But she couldn’t help but to lift her head slowly from the rubble. Whatever awaited her would be her first look at freedom after six long, gruesome months.
She looked around. And nearly cried.
It was all dark fields of sheet metal. Hills everywhere, but not of grass or fresh soil; discarded tools and junk and rust littered the cold cement ground. Not another soul for miles. This wasn’t her freedom. It wasn’t the world she’d been yearning for. And it certainly wasn't the relief she’d promised herself. Instead, it was a dream now shattered. The junkyard disappeared into a heavy, dark distance..It was an empty world of nothing.
It’s this… is this it?
This couldn’t be it. This just couldn’t be it.
Surely, there had to be another person out here- if she could just find them. The silence was broken only by her footsteps as she explored the ruins of the junkyard. She picked up a teddy bear with gears for eyes, made to wear aviator goggles, and tucked it in her knapsack. She noticed a five-stockinged Christmas ornament, broken on the floor, and an old radio. A pile of clothes, a pair of soleless boots. A compass. A box of turquoise pennies.
These things weren’t people. But they were the memories of people, things left behind and embedded with personality, and ghosts did sometimes make for good company.
Still, the silence was so uneasy.
“It’s fine, it’s fine,” she murmured to herself, stuffing another well-worn doll into her bag.
It wasn't fine.
The longer she walked, the longer the silence stretched, until it eventually began to take on it own sound.
It was a thrumming in her ears. It was a throbbing against her brain. Each lonely footstep was beginning to seem so loud. The shadows became silhouettes of people, and she began to see moving things from the corners of her eyes.
Then, something gold glinted caught her attention.
She looked up. Wrapped around a rusted pole, which jutted up like a flagpole striped of a flag, was a light blue string of silver bells. They seemed impossibly there against the dark sky. Something about them- their twinkle, their lack of rust, their shine- settled the sound of the silence. She wondered what they'd sound like if she shook them. Before she knew it, her hands had hiked her skirt up, and her feet were digging themselves into the hill.
She was going to get them.
Carefully, she climbed up the hill. The journey to the top was slow and meticulous- it was a bigger hill than she'd thought. She reached out, and just as the tips of her fingers brushed the closest bell, the junk below her jostled out of place. Her heart jumped into her throat as she heard spare parts beginning to fall, clinking against the ground, a hundred tiny pieces of junk dragging her down with them. She dug her knees in and reached for the bells.
What mattered was the bells. If only her arms were a bit longer, her legs not as short, herself more athletic, then she could maybe, perhaps, reach it-
“Miss! What in God's name are you doing?!”
That sudden voice was the last straw. Stepping on air, she lost her grip and tumbled down the hillside- but not before finally yanking bells from the pole, clutching them close to her chest like something porcelain and precious.
“Miss! Don’t worry, I’ve got you!”
Two thin arms reached out to catch her. They buckled as the stranger grabbed her by the arms, but he managed to put her back on her feet. She coughed violently. Dust clung to her clothes, and her glasses had flown off her face. But the silvery chime of the bells made her smile as she looked down at them, safe and sound in her hands. They sounded just as beautiful as she'd hoped.
“Quite a scare there!” The stranger pat her on the shoulders firmly. “Is that what you were after? Can I see?”
She looked up, startled. “I-I’m sorry for scaring you! And of course.”
Standing above her was a gangly sort of man, dark and wavering, the sort to be swept off his feet by just a gust of wind. His eyes were big, round, covered in worry lines, and staring down at her intently. He frowned at her, adjusting his glasses and squinting. Raen stood there, holding out the bells in silence. The longer he studied her face, the deeper she began to sink into her cardigan.
“I-i know, it was a little silly,” she said, holding them out. “To climb up that big hill just for these little bells. You see, I noticed them while exploring, and I just thought-”
“Excuse me, miss, but what’s your name?”
“W-what?”
He seemed so perplexed by her. It was nearing discomfort. Perhaps she looked too out of place? Eyeing him up and down, though, he seemed just as tattered and dirty as she was. Dirt stained the knees of his pants; his knobby elbows jutted from torn holes in his sleeves; and his top hat threatened to fall off his head.
“My name is Raen.” She blinked. He blinked right back. “Um, and what’s you-“
“Raen!” he exclaimed suddenly. “It’s so very strange to see you here.”
Now he'd switched gears, speaking with the fondness of an old friend. Raen reeled, trying to find his face somewhere in her memories. A client of the Golla Gang? No- he was much too cheery and loud for that sort of business. A possible neighbor from her old home in the city? Had she passed him on the bus? She opened her mouth to ask. But, again, he cut her off.
“Strange, yes- and very odd, very odd indeed.” He tapped his long fingers to his chin. “You shouldn’t be here. Or perhaps I shouldn't be here? Have I made a mistake?”
Raem worried the neck of her shirt as this disjointed, scatterbrained man began to pace, muttering what seemed to her like utter nonsense. Shr wondered if she'd be better off shuffling away while his own thoughts seemed to distract him.
She cleared her throat. “I'm sorry, but could you slow down? I'm not sure I understand.”
To her relief, he seemed to snap out whatever train of thought he'd lost himself in. His smile became a bit sheepish. “Sorry, sorry. Musings of an old man. Don't pay me mind.”
She tilted her head. “You don't seem very old to me.”
“Ah, you flatter me.”
Then he stepped closer. She wavered, but stood her ground. The man had dark eyes, black as anything, but she didn't see anything malicious or dangerous in them. In fact, they reminded her of tiny black tulips with little white middles.
“So! Miss Raen, could you tell me where you came from?” He put his hands together. “And how you got into the Barrens?”
She ducked her head, staring pointedly down at her shoes. “If it's okay, I would rather not say where I'm coming from,” she murmured. “Um, what are the Barrens?”
“You don’t know?”
Am I supposed to know….? She crossed her arms, face turning red.
“What a curious case you are, Miss Raen. Let me explain.” The man put a hand on her shoulder reassuringly. “You know the Plate, right? Lots of people living under here, you know. Everything they've ever lost, or forgotten, or perhaps had taken from them, ends up in one of those big hills. Think of it as a sort of junkyard. Or a cemetery for memories, if you want to be dark about it.”
She nodded. She did know the Plate, the thick, impenetrable barrier separating the underground from the cleaner, clearer world above them. The only way to cross over was to buy a train ticket from Sector Seven, the underground's main trading hub. But the tickets were made of silver sheets and stamped with gold ink; people like herself and the ragdoll man before her weren't meant to carry them.
Of course, one could always sneak on board or climb through the train tunnels. As the Golla Gang had done, and failed to do, countless, countless times.
She nodded soberly as darker memories began to seep through. She gulped them down. “I see….”
If he noticed, he didn't show it. He just smiled, and carried on with his ranting. “Not many people come up here, you know. Only me, sometimes. And you, now. And the scavengers. Oh, I love those people. They're always up here, and they're always so efficient, and... oh, shit.”
He paused. Shame crossed his face. “I completely forgot.”
“What did you forget?”
“Well. It's been several months and I was supposed to meet up with them. But I forgot. Ah, Sonia will be worried. The problem is, I have no way to find them.” He ran a hand through his hair, tugging. “You haven't seen them, have you, miss Raen? They should be a group of three, if I remember right.”
An entire group of people had been wandering around here, together, while she had been walking for miles alone…. She shook her head, wilting a bit. “I'm sorry, but I haven't seen anyone. But, if you like, I could help you find them?”
She nearly jumped out if her skin as he clapped his hands on her shoulders. “Why, miss Raen! How kind! But, are you sure? You surely must have something more important to do than follow an old, bumbling man around this depressing place.”
“Please, let me help you. In fact, you could say I'm also a bit lost, too. Actually, I…” Her gaze fell to her feet. “...don't really have a place to go from here.”
The realization finally hit her that she was, in fact, without a home. Homeless. Lost. She possessed nothing but a compass to guide her, and even that was useless. Her darker thoughts began to scrape at her mind, filling her with doubt and numbing dread.
“Oh, perfect!”
She snapped up, shocked, just as the man gripped her arm and turned on his heels, dragging her along. “Wonderful, wonderful.”
She didn't know what was going on. But, she couldn’t disagree more that things were wonderful, wonderful.
Hiking up the hem of her skirt, she struggling to keep up with his long, quick strides. “Where are we going?”
“Well, you said you'd help me find Sonia and Andima and Aysa, right? We have to rendezvous with the scavengers before nightfall. That's when all the creepy, crawly things come out.”
He wiggled his fingers. Raen frowned, trying not to imagine what creepy, crawly things would be lurking after sunset. He waved a hand casually. “Ah, don't worry about that too much. After that, we can all go to the Cogpit and you can meet everyone else.”
“Did you say the- the Cogpit?”
“Yes! It's absolutely amazing, you'll love it. Oh, I'm so excited.” He touched his heart. “I cannot wait for you to meet my son.”
“You have a son?”
“Yes, yes. He's about your age, I think. He can be a bit brash, a bit in the negative side, but….” He smiled, as if holding a secret behind his lips. “I have a feeling you'll like my Adam.”
“Adam?” She looked up, nearly tripping. Something bubbled up in her chest like soda-pop at the name. It was sudden, and so strange, and the feeling left her bewildered.
That name… feels so warm.
Why?
“Is something the matter, miss Raen?”
She shook her head, running her fingers through tangled strands of hair. “Your son just sounds… familiar, somehow.”
“Well, maybe he is! Perhaps you and him have met in a past life.” A small smile played on his lips. “Or something like that.”
He turned away before she could say anything, cupping his hands over his mouth and taking a long, deep breath. “Soooonia!” he called into the Barren. “Ayyyyysaaaa! Andima!”
His voice carried for miles, rolling over the hills. Raen had no doubt that they’d find these people soon, and fell into quiet contemplation.
She couldn’t shake it off. Yes, she had questions about the scavengers, about these people, Sonia and Andima and Aysa. She had questions, too, about what the man had called the Cogpit, and even more questions about these mysterious Barrens.
But she couldn’t stop thinking about that name. That one name. A name that brought with it blue lilacs, and lillies, and which felt oddly warm on her lips. An inexplicably familiar name. Although she had no idea where she’d heard it before.
“Adam….?”