Hideaway life - Part 1

Worried and perplexed, Pages stood facing her puzzle: a pipe, pulling the air from upstairs, was malfunctioning. The few entrances leading into their hideaway caves simply weren’t opened frequently enough to let in a sufficient oxygen supply for the fifty or so people living in these gloomy tunnels and if they left them open they would die anyway; snatchers and grabbers were always on the lookout. It was Pages herself who had come up with a solution. It was herself, Mitt and Hardy who had built the pipes. (Although it had almost become just her and Mitt; Hardy was about to suffer a ‘fatal accident’.)

 

The machine-work at one end of the dug-out building (near the living room) let the air in and at the other end she had carefully placed some suhebium crystals to heat up the remaining air particles so that they rose back upstairs again. This then created a vacuum for the pipes at the start to suck in fresh air, thus creating a cycle and solving the problem. Oh, if only her fellow humans knew of suhebium. It would be the end of heating bills all together.

 

The breathing room, as the youngsters liked to call it, used to be merely a closet stuffed in the corner; out of sight and mainly out of mind, however, as their numbers grew as, consequently, the need for oxygen, more air had to be pumped in. As a result the space needed had increased greatly so that it was now almost the same size as the kitchen: massive. A giant room filled with buzzing metal pipes, spinning and whirring, everything doing its job. Pages’ kind of place.

 

She stood across from the troubling piece, similarly to how a cowboy would stand facing his enemy. Quietly, she muttered to herself " it helped her think.

 

“What’s up with you then? You led me on quite a hunt. The outward flow is fine, I’ve checked it. The pressure is fine in all the rooms and none of the other pipes are burning like you. You’re definitely guilty.” Her dark eyes moved up and down scrutinising the shivering metal work, while her strong tawny skinned hands pulled her thick, curly hair into a loose ponytail and her prominent upturned nose wrinkled. Then she spotted it! “Aha! A loose valve! You horrible little...”

 

Continuing to cuss throughout, Pages managed to tighten the ‘slippery little oil coated piece of unloved scrap metal’ " to put it in her least vulgar insult " and called, “I’ve fixed the bloody thing! You’re all allowed to breathe!” earning her a cheer from her acquaintances.

 

So her perplexity was gone, but she was still severely worried because Blur wasn’t back yet.

 

Why Chief let her go out on jobs on her own Pages couldn’t fathom, especially with her weak body. Blur needed backup in a fight and Pages was plentiful on the muscle, so was Cocoa, but she was so sweet and childish you didn’t tend to notice as much. Blur was a stick compared to the ‘changeling pair’ she thought to herself as she replaced the wrench in the tool cupboard. Mind you, it was hard to look big compared to them as well.

 

Last time she had actually gone out against Chief’s will and good thing she had too. She had found Blur bleeding on the mossy floor with her arm bent the wrong way, close to unconsciousness.

 

So, immersed in her fearful thoughts, Pages failed to acknowledge her sister’s presence until Cocoa’s face was inches from her identical one.

 

“My ears are itchy!” Cocoa squealed.

 

Immediately on the task at hand Pages said, “I’ll get the ointment; just whatever you do don’t scratch them.”

 

Cocoa looked down and went slightly pinker than usual.

 

“Cocoa...” Pages shook her head and rubbed her temples.

 

“I’m sorry,” said Cocoa, playing with the end of her left plait, “But Pampam just got a message from her uncle on the Liberators Crew 3, you know; the one that was caught and arrested, and she was so happy and sad and hopeful and excited and you know how my ears get with strong emotions and you were working and you get all grumpy when I stop you working and they were just so itchy and-”

 

“Stop!” Pages commanded, “Breathe.” Somehow the other woman had said all of that in one breath, “Let’s just get your ears sorted.”

 

Although Cocoa looked human she was in fact Lobraidian, a species commonly mistaken for elves due to their elongated ears. However, while she was still young Cocoa’s points were sliced off to make her convincingly pass as the human she was to be switched with: Pages. Their physical likeness made her perfect for the exchange. If her ears had been left alone, which they should have been, Pages thought angrily, Cocoa would have been able to sense the exact emotion of every living consciousness within her radius, through some kind of brain wave receiver. Or something like that... Things being as they were, Cocoa could - to some degree " decode the emotions of someone sitting next to her and when she was around particularly strong emotions her ears itched. Pages assumed it was like people who might lose an arm or leg; they could apparently feel their missing limbs itching.

 

A few minutes later, in their shared bedroom, Pages was massaging the soothing oil into Cocoa’s red throbbing ears.

 

“There, isn’t that better?”

 

“Yes, I love you.”

 

“You’re welcome,” Pages had long since known that Cocoa’s way of saying ‘thank you’ was ‘I love you’.

 

“Much better!”

 

Pages smiled, “You want to come help me fix that ultra-violet light in the living room? Apparently it’s giving everyone sun burn.”

 

“Funny that we still call it sun burn when we’re 10 feet below the surface of the earth,” Cocoa mused.

 

“Is that a yes?”

 

“No,” Cocoa said apologetically, “I promised Hardy I’d help him torment Mama Cook, it’s so funny when she gets upset.” Cocoa giggled at the concept. “Want to join in.”

 

Although annoying Mama Cook was a tempting idea and no doubt Hardy would find the perfect plan, Pages had to decline, “You know I can’t stand that scrawny semi-fey,” she explained, “and anyway, I’ve got a sun burning light to fix.”

 

“Okay, I love you,” Cocoa waved and left the room.

 

Another great use for the words ‘I love you’:

 

“Goodbye.”

 

Pages really did love her dim-witted, distracted, loving little sister.