Spruce

His eyes narrowed on me and I tried pretending I was invisible. I wished with every ounce of power I had that he would convince himself I wasn’t real if I just kept still. He knelt down and touched my face. I drew back against the wall and shook. “Look man, I’m not sure who you are but you need to leave me alone. I’m on a mission and I’m not afraid to slit throats to make it happen. Please go away.” He smiled. “Dirt, I’ve missed you so much.” The voice. “Dad?” I paused. There was such a long pause that I wasn’t sure I had spoke out loud. I repeated. “Dad?!” He held his arms out to me and I melted into them. “It’s alight kiddo, I’m here. But we have to get you out of here.”
He helped me to my feet and I paused. “Is Rain here? What is this place? I-“ his eyes grew. “Shhh, not so loud bud.” I took a breath and let it out slowly. “im sorry, I’ve got so many questions.” I admitted. He smiled briefly but our reconnection was paused as the door was pushed open by an elite. He and I took on our stiff posture and glossy eyed stare. The 40-something year old woman in a pantsuit asked “What are your orders?” Dad responded “Spruce, number 12552B. Responding to suspicious activity.” I responded. “Dirt, number 12553C. Responding to suspicious activity.”
She thought it over and scanned me absentmindedly. “Dirt. Are you new? You are out of uniform.” I replied “I was added to the roster today. My measurements are being compiled shortly.” She nodded and left.
Dad smiled at me and gave a dry, breathy laugh. “Dirt that was amazing! You’ve had some practice ey?” I blushed and nodded. He looked side to side and began walking me to the door. “Walk with me, say nothing, and trust me okay?” I nodded and followed. He walked me to the fitter and I was scanned in a large machine. The process was wordless. Silent aside from the hum of electricity in the room and clicking of a few buttons.
I stepped off the platform with the uniform of an Armadillo. Covered in black body armor up my back and down each leg. It was heavy, but from the outside it simply looked like the everyday suit and tie I’d seen so many times over. In fact, dad told me the armor is where the Armadillos got their name from. The armor used to use heavy blocks of specific metals and it looked like the overlapping shells of an insect in the before times called an armadillo. Although, in my reading I seem to have uncovered a mistake. The armadillo is an animal and the insect is something else. Nevertheless the name stuck.
I adjusted my posture and walked with dad to the desk. We were handed an envelope and wafted away like a bad odor by the bored receptionist. Dad opened it, scanned the document inside, and closed it. And off we went, back into the rubble and wind. Against the orange sky I could see his face. He looked so stoic that it was intimidating. I stoned my own face and continued pacing alongside him, trying to fall into step again. We carried on for a mile or more to an empty stretch of road before he finally broke and made a silly face. I giggled and he cheered loudly to the wastes. His voice bounced off of the sandy basin walls that surrounded us. It sounded like an audience of thousands roared with him. I smiled wider than I had since I was a kid.
Then I cried. And he cried. And we cried and held each other. He backed away and inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. A foggy memory of breathing lessons came to me and I breathed with him. We collected ourselves and finally the questions came.