Rose's Thorn

            Rose held a threadbare scarf close to her throat as she maneuvered along the ice-congested sidewalk towards the abandoned storefront where she had been staying for almost a week. The crisp wind howled at her, biting at her bare calves while she artfully wove a path around frozen pools of waste congealed along the uneven walk. Stepping out into - and through - the labyrinth of muck-filled channels in the dirt-paved road, she added a little skip to her step as she got closer to the side of the building. She had spent hours camouflaging it with heaps of collected junk and metal to hide the small entrance to her pseudo-home.

            As she checked to make sure no one was looking, Rose ducked under a section of chain-link fence and painted plywood, squeezing her tiny frame through the dark hole and into the space beyond. It was a small space with dropped ceilings and empty shelving units. She stopped to listen to the silence that met her, as it should have, and nodded in satisfaction.

            “Alright, bumblebees, you can come out now, s’only me,” she added as she hefted her satchel up onto the nearest shelf and began unlatching its front to pick through her score. The sounds of unfolding and wiggling filled the small room as her three disciples left their designated - and cramped - hiding spots.

            Suzie, the youngest of the three (and Rose’s only surviving relation) looked as if she had just woken from a nap. Her light hair, normally full of preciously thick corkscrew-curls, had been tossed and turned into tufts of knotted nests that struck out haphazardly, as if in a bid for their freedom; a tell-tale sign of the nightmares that plagued Suzie in her sleep; nightmares that plagued them all.

            Rose bent down to smooth Suzie’s hair, wishing her younger sister had grown up with the sense of security she remembered from her own early childhood, when her father had kept the threats of the new world - as well as it’s nightmares - at bay.

            “I was scared, Rosie,” her sister whispered, “I dreamt you’d been nabbed by the catchers.”

            “Shhh, Suzie-Q,” Rose intoned, “everything’s fine. It was just a dream.”

            Rose closed her eyes and pressed her face into the crown of Suzie’s head, letting the cushion of Suzie’s curls envelop her. It was the only time she ever sought the comfort (or memory) of her mother, who had had rich, golden curls like her younger sister’s. Rose used to envy Suzie for taking after their striking mother so effortlessly, especially since Rose had already spent ten years of her life emulating and adoring her mother before Suzie came along, stealing the show and everyone’s hearts. Rose opened her eyes and after a brief moment of yearning for her mother and for the protection she used to provide, she got back to business.

            “Ruby, Mooney, I need your help.”

            Rose gestured for the two identical girls, only a few years younger than herself, to come over to where she was grappling with her bag. She had acquired the girls after she discovered them - shaking and severely dehydrated - hiding in their family home during one of her scavenging missions. She had given them her own water and after they slurped it down, they hadn’t left her side.

            She hadn’t minded, really. While it was two more mouths to feed, they provided Rose peace of mind that her sister wasn’t alone when she was out scoring, and so in turn she provided them with a share of her spoils. The four girls were desperately loyal to each other. They were closer than even Rose and Suzie had been before the portal appeared in New York City two years ago, allowing inter-dimensional beasts to come flooding through for the few moments it remained open and forever altering the course of humanity as we understood it. Most of the nightmarish beasts had since been disposed of, but the new realities of the world were too damaging to allow any future hope of safety, and civil war took care of what little faith there was left. 

            Rose began to unload her spoils, announcing each item with a flourish, as if she were a street vendor, touting her wares. This catch had been quite bigger than any other she had scored recently, and she was eager to gloat a little, reveling in her ability to keep their motley little family safe.

            “Enough money for a week of food, a comb, a pack of cards, weighted dice, and a bag of dehydrated beef.” Rose smiled, couldn’t help feeling optimistic as she passed a pinch of the meat to each hungry pair of eyes which silently thanked her and held her in high regard. As their protector, Rose held on to a much needed reason for her continued existence.

            The room was quiet as the four girls - one barely fifteen years of age, two the age of twelve, and one just five - ate their fare, savoring its sweet, tangy flavor that seemed to melt into the waiting arms of their empty stomachs and giving their starved organs some much needed hope for future succor. Rose tried to enjoy the moment, and providing for those she cared about, but instead, she was already planning where their next scrap would come from.  

            After telling the girls about her long day working as a “message runner”, she tucked them in for the night and lulled them to sleep with softly spoken tales of evil Kings and brave Princesses. When she was sure they were asleep, Rose knelt in the furthest, darkest corner of the room and began to plan the next day’s score. She tried not to think of the men who used to fund their existence: men who threw dirty coins at her after rutting against her like sweaty, feral beasts. Men who had used her up (and worn her down) before she had discovered a much better method of scoring money and supplies for her growing family.

            The man who had provided the wares tonight had been a lucky break; the man (she assumed) had fallen asleep on the train and had found himself far from his comfortable home. Rose had known the moment she had spotted him, and his soft, protruding belly, that he would be an easy mark; his eyes had softened with pity for the dirty child standing before him, serving to reinforce her instinctual knack for finding easy prey.

            “Please sir,” she had said in her most desperate voice, “Mama is sleeping and I can’t wake her up. Will you please help me?” She began to shake her chin; a fat teardrop loosed itself from her eye with expert timing and rolled dramatically down her cheek, following the soft curve of her chin.

            “Hush, little one, we will sort this out. Where is your Mama?” The man was far from threatening; he was genuinely interested in helping her out.

            Rose beckoned for the man to follow her into a small shack. She hurried in front of him, eagerly running into a darkened back room where her mother presumably lay. As the man rounded the corner, intent on helping the frightened, pitiful little girl, he had no time to register the advanced (and highly illegal) weapon the young girl held level with his chest before he heard the shot.

            As she pulled the trigger, Rose thought of every man who had tormented her body as she tried to provide for her sister, and then her family, the only way she knew how. It wasn’t until she had witnessed a man’s murder and had grabbed the discarded ray-gun left behind by the killer that she realized she now had another career choice.

            Rose closed her eyes and listened to the steady breathing of her young charges. She couldn’t help but beam with pride when she thought about how each breath those girls took was a wonder, and about how she herself was a crucial part of ensuring the continuance of such a miracle.

 

END.

Reviews

[LastMonth]

Hi. Here again.
Great story.
Great Character.

Driven by emotion, and her motivations are believble.
Would love to see more of her. Keep up the good work.

[Gaia Octavia]

Thank you very much and sorry for the accidental delete! I appreciate ur input and suggestions ☺