Chapter Two

"I think I've seen enough, boys!" The deep feminine voice traveled through the din of the fight and caused everyone to stop momentarily. Damon could see Cinnia sauntering into the alley holding her trademark six-foot stainless steel pipe she used as a staff. She paused and hesitated but a moment before launching herself into the fray.

She ran forward and planted the end of the pipe in the pavement to fly into the air and land in the middle of the small group of men. Using the pipe as both a weapon and an acrobatic aid, she spun and danced between the men, striking unerringly with fist, boot, and staff. Even though he was still groggy, Damon admired her grace as she eliminated all six men in a matter of seconds, and he doubted that she’d taken even a single blow.

"I had it all under control," Damon said, leaning over with his hands on his knees and spitting blood, "all under control." He chuckled slightly but winced at a pain in his chest.

Cinnia stepped forward and slapped him in the back of the head, “Idiot! What were you thinking?”

Damon stopped laughing at the tone of her voice, “What?”

“Didn’t you listen to any of my training at all?”

“Well...I...but...” Damon stammered, feeling hurt, ashamed, and too much like a kid.

“I stuck my neck out to get you into a solo patrol so early, to get you promoted to full-time, and this is how you repay me?” She glared at him, her eyes burning with emotion.

“If this was a solo patrol, then why are you here?” Damon responded peevishly, straightening to his full height, a full head taller than her.

Cinnia paused, her eyes narrowing as she looked up at him. “You’d be dead if not for me, and what good would that be for the Family?

“The Family?”

“Yes. The Family needs you, even if you are an idiot.”

“What about you?”

“Me, the Family, all of us, we are the Family.”

“Oh...argh!” Damon growled looking down to the ground unable to form actual words.

She continued to glare at him, but he did not look up to meet her gaze. Neither one spoke again until they heard a small whimpering sound coming from the forgotten young girl. Together they looked over at the girl huddled against the wall of the building, her legs drawn up and rocking gently.

Cinnia moved to kneel in front of her, “It’s alright now, honey, they’re gone.” The girl didn’t respond. “What’s your name, sweetie?”

Damon remained standing where he was, too angry and hurt to care about the girl anymore. “I risked my life to defend her, isn’t that worth something?” he practically yelled at Cinnia.

Cinnia jumped up and stepped quickly toward him, her eyes burning with anger. Her sudden motion caused Damon to take an involuntary step backwards.

Jabbing a finger in his chest, she hissed “No, it’s not! It’s not worth risking your life! Is she Family? No! What, then, does she mean to you? Did you think you’d bring her back home and take her as your wife? I don’t think so! As if she’d even have you! You know darn well that Michael has put a stop on new members. We simply can’t support any more right now.”

Cinnia paused and put a fist to her forehead while closing her eyes and looking tired.

“You were on patrol. What is the purpose of patrol?” her voice took on the didactic tone he had heard so often.

“We patrol to ensure the safety and integrity of the perimeter,” Damon answered by rote, almost involuntarily.

“What are the basic tenets of patrol?”

“Keep hidden, keep moving; stay quiet, stay alert.”

“And, how would you evaluate your patrol tonight?”

Damon exhaled in disgust, still mad even though he knew she was right. He only now realized the extent of his failure. He had picked a fight for no acceptable reason, made a lot of noise in the process, had been stationary for far too long, and was not monitoring the perimeter. As far as patrols go, this had to be one of the worst. He didn’t need to verbalize it either, Cinnia knew what he was thinking.

“Exactly.” Cinnia took a deep breath and continued, “Now let’s go home and get you patched up. I’m not giving you any MedPacs from my stash!” She was almost friendly again. Almost.

“What about her?” Damon asked quietly, gesturing at the girl.

Cinnia frowned and looked uneasy, “do you have any money?” she asked him.

“Huh?”

“Money. Do you have any MUN-EE” she added sarcastically.

“Well, yea,” Damon said fishing in his pockets. “We got paid yesterday.” He drew out a small bundle of bills.

“Give it to her.”

“What?”

“How many head shots did you take? Give. It. To. Her.”

“You’re going to leave her here?” Damon asked incredulously.

“We’re going to leave her here, yes. How do you think Michael would react to us bringing in a stranger, especially now? We have to leave her.”

“What?” The girl spoke for the first time. Her small, frail voice fit her appearance perfectly, and caused Damon and Cinnia to look down at her.

After a moment’s pause, Cinnia looked up to Damon and said “give her the money. And a MedPac. We’re leaving. Now.”

“But,” Damon started, but Cinnia had turned on her heel and started moving down the alley at a quick jog. He growled to himself, “Kyndra’s tears!” and then addressed the girl with barely a glance, “sorry--here.”

Damon tossed her the bills and a MedPac from his belt pouch before taking off after Cinnia.

The girl watched with wide eyes as they disappeared around the corner.

#

        Damon rounded the building quickly, determined to catch up with Cinnia, only to find that she had stopped and he skidded to a halt trying not to bowl her over. She put a hand on his chest to help him keep his balance.

        “Get back up on the roof and finish your patrol. Move fast, but safe, do a proper job of it and get back home on schedule. We can’t let Michael know about what happened tonight, he’d never let you go solo again.”

        Damon realized the risk she was taking to cover for him. He felt compassion welling up, but didn’t know what to say. “Will do,” was all he could come up with.

        “When you get back home, don’t let him see you, try not to see many folks before you get yourself healed up. Use your MedPacs first, then go to the Infirmary for the rest. Tell them I beat you up,” she smiled before adding, “again.”

        Damon smiled as well, thinking that she was truly beautiful when she smiled. “Will do, boss,” he stupidly repeated again.

He was keenly aware that her hand was still on his chest; warm through his shirt. He flexed his chest muscles and she removed her hand, shaking her head and rolling her eyes, although the smile did not fade.

She turned and started off in the other direction along the deserted and debris-filled roadway. Damon called to her:

“Cinnia!” She stopped and turned back. “I’m sorry,” he paused, “and...thanks.” He looked into her eyes and tried to make her feel his honest remorse.

She gave a small shrug of her shoulders and replied, “it’s fine, but get back out there and redeem yourself.” Then she turned away again and was gone down a side street. He couldn’t even hear her footfalls over the din of the City.

#

Damon backtracked to the base of the building he had climbed down to save the girl. He thought about the girl and her predicament and then he thought of Cinnia’s admonishment. Don’t look, she’s fine. Don’t look and you won’t be drawn in. Don’t look"move on and finish the patrol, you have a lot of ground to cover quickly! He started climbing the corner of the building where a drain pipe gave him an easy way to the top. He paused, don’t look. Well maybe just a quick look. He dropped to the ground and ran around the corner to take a quick look.

The girl was gone, and Damon’s relief actually made him feel a little guilty. He looked over at the prone bodies in the alleyway, but did not take the time to count them. Well, that’s done! Let’s move on.

He scrambled back up to the roof, despite the pain in his shoulder. He stopped at the top just long enough to apply his last MedPac to the shoulder wound. The ‘Pac would help with the pain, although it would not do any deep healing. He paused to take in his surroundings and then moved off as quickly as possible to get back to his assigned patrol route. Cinnia’s voice echoed through his head as he completed his patrol, strictly be the book.

We patrol to ensure the safety and integrity of the perimeter. Without a secure perimeter the Family home will be in danger. Report anomalies, do not engage. Observe, return and report. Keep hidden, keep moving; stay quiet, stay alert.

As he traveled from rooftop to rooftop, he took in the familiar sites and sounds of his surroundings. Much of the area was filled with debris from collapsed buildings and all of the associated equipment and appurtenances. Here and there could be found wrecked vehicles, either cars or aircraft, but they had all been stripped of anything useful long ago. In the distance, beyond the still-standing shells of buildings, Damon could see the glow of the City. He spent most of his time here in the Ruins, but he did enjoy the occasional trip to the City even though all the people and traffic made him continuously nervous.

Out here, he felt things were much easier. With due diligence, one could carve out a fairly secure and rewarding life. The Family was one of many successful small groups of people living together on the edge of the Ruins within walking distance of the City. Further out things got more difficult and more dangerous. Proximity also gave the Family access to the myriad resources of the City, as long as they had the money to buy them. Therefore, there were a fair number of Family members who held regular jobs in the City, although they could not keep them for long and had to keep job-cycling to avoid unwanted attention.

Damon returned his attention to the patrol route, making sure that everything was in order. He checked trip wires, booby-traps and other defensive systems along the route, making sure they were all in working order. He took his training seriously, since the perimeter was the wall that kept the Family safe. Cinnia's voice returned repeatedly to his mind, which he welcomed due to it's soothing effect.

23B is our home. We must protect it at all costs. Any breach of the perimeter needs to be met swiftly and decisively.

They had a good home, a rare location with running water, electricity, and enough solid building structure left intact to provide comfortable living quarters. Many of the nearby gangs would kill them all in order to take their home, affectionately called 23B for the fading sign on the door to the main entrance.

The patrols ensure that 23B remains undetected and the Family protected. The guards on patrol must make sure everything remains in working order while at the same time not drawing attention to themselves. If outsiders noticed a patrolling guard the obvious conclusion would lead them to search for 23B.

Damon stopped and checked the time. He nodded in approval of himself since he had nearly caught up for the time he lost in his ill-planned rescue. The importance of the patrol as a defense of all he held dear weighed heavily upon him since he had allowed himself to become distracted. He could easily have jeopardized everything with his foolish stunt.  Realization of the potential consequences of his actions filled him with further remorse and anger at himself.

Maybe I'm not ready for this. Maybe Michael is right, and I should tell him what happened. He realized that coming clean would also cause a lot of trouble for Cinnia, so he decided to do whatever was necessary to protect her. Some ‘Demon’ I turned out to be, could have killed everyone on my first patrol! Living with the guilt would be difficult, but he resolved to amend for his mistakes and redeem himself as Cinnia had suggested.

Damon stopped at the next checkpoint and paused for the prescribed amount of time. The sounds of the City had faded and he neither heard nor saw anything unusual. Looking up at the unusually high building in front of him, he gazed at "the beacon." A single window near the top of the huge building was lit with electric light. It was always lit, and had been as long as anyone could remember. Damon wondered for the umpteenth time whether it was a home, a trap or just a strange anomaly. He and his friends (and many generations of friends before them) were dying to climb up and find out, but no one had found a safe way up yet. Stories were told about aircraft being seen coming and going from the rooftop, but none were from reliable sources. Of course there were also countless stories of ghosts, magic, and any other fantastic explanation one could imagine.

Even Cinnia joined in the conjecture; the lure of "the beacon" was too hard to resist. Damon secretly daydreamed of he and Cinnia living way up there with magical servants and their own aircraft to ferry them around. Of course, he could barely even admit the dream to himself, much less confide in anyone else.

Sighing, he moved on to the last checkpoint. His body ached from the beating, and the anesthetic in the 'Pac on his shoulder had started to wear off. The sharp pain growing there made him worry about the extent of the wound, although their Infirmary could handle almost anything. He was not happy about using the rest of his secret stash of MedPacs, but he would do whatever Cinnia said after this evening’s debacle. Sighing again, he moved on silently, heading toward the only home and the only family he had ever known.