Chapter 2

She was not allowed out after dark, not today and not ever. Once the sun went down, her father would lock the door, throw the three large bolts and drop a wooden beam across the door frame. The windows all had bars that didn't open, but when darkness came the metal shutters would be closed, blocking out the sights and muffling the sounds of the street outside. The halls outside the door were patrolled during the day, but at night they were mostly deserted.

Even through the metal sheets and heavy curtains that disguised them, she could hear the distinct sounds of gunfire and the not infrequent screams. Some nights you could smell smoke, and when that happened, her father would fill the tub with rusty water and set out buckets. They had canned food, bottled clean water, candles, blankets and even a gun, though it was illegal and well hidden. Through hard work and planning, they were better off than most in their building, but as a proletariat family, proles, they were permanent members of the underclass in this highly stratified society and didn't have the option of moving somewhere safer. So, the prudent family had a plan for everything.

Almost everything.

Katy had come home from school on the armored bus, just like she did every day. The school guards had escorted the children in to the building and made sure they were securely locked behind the steel doors of the lobby before moving to the next stop. She waved at the building guard in his security booth and again at the armed community patrol on each floor as she climbed upward to her home.

She let herself in to the apartment using the key she kept hidden on a chain around her neck. She locked the door behind her and went straight to her room. It was important to her mother that her school clothes lasted as long as possible. Money was always short and Katy was scrupulous about always changing into play clothes as soon as she got home.

Even though her mom and dad were still at work, she brought her school books to the table so she could complete her assignments. She was a fine-boned, petite girl, much given to giggles and infectious smiles. She was well-liked at school by the students and the faculty. She got good grades and loved to spend her free period in the library, reading about far off worlds. When she was finished, she put her books away and laboriously wrote a note to let her mother know she was going to the "park".

The Park, as the residents of the prole housing tower were wont to call it, was the central air shaft that penetrated the building and created a free space cut off from the outside world. The apartments rose 15 floors on every side of the small, dirt floored area and its single tree. The only access was through the second floor doorway, then down a set of stairs. There, in the 50x50ft area, was a small swing set, a balancing beam, a sandbox and the sole tree Katy had ever seen up close. It was the only place the smaller children of the complex were allowed to play.

The streets outside the complex were entirely too dangerous, even during daylight, to allow a child to wander without an adult. Preferably an armed and alert adult. There were no crime statistics published by the city, or at least not for the prole housing areas. The Peace Keepers did not dare enter the area in less than squad strength, and usually with an armored vehicle on call for support. The streets were ruled by the roving gangs; grafters, grifters and hookers plied their trades on every corner. Children that ventured out alone, often never returned.

Katy played until she noticed the light changing, and then glanced at the simplistic data band on her wrist. The band, supplied by the school, was a teaching aid given to every student. It was bonded to the skin of her wrist and ran on the heat supplied from her body. It told time, gave simple directions and allowed the school to monitor the child's location when they were on the school grounds. It was biodegradable and would last between ten and eleven months before having to be replaced with a new unit at the start of each school year.

The time function displayed was a simple digital readout for the hours, minutes and seconds. Katy could see that she had stayed overlong and that her parents would be expecting her home by now. She lived on the twelfth floor and, since there were no elevators, she had better get going!

Saying goodnight to her friends, she scampered up the stairs and began the long climb back to her floor. Arriving at her door, out of breath from the many sets of stairs, she once again extracted her key and opened the lock. Stepping inside she turned to lock the door behind her and froze. Something was wrong.

The house was still and silent. No smells of cooking food or brewing Kafe. Her father wasn't in his customary place at the table, reading the news sheets he always brought home from work. Her mother wasn't puttering around the kitchen, the radio playing softly in the background. Katy was alone in the apartment.

She wasn't exactly scared, not yet anyway. It was not uncommon for one or another of them to take an extra shift if it was available. The money was definitely too good to turn down and things were always tight. While they had never taken an extra shift at the same time, preferring that one adult was home with her in the evening, it wasn't unthinkable that one of them had been delayed.

Katy thought of herself as a big girl. She was 8 years old, wasn't she? She was perfectly capable of cooking, well, making toast anyway. Her mother had taught her how to use the ancient toaster this past summer. She finished locking the door and then stared at the bolts and the cross-bar. The bar was much too heavy for her to lift, and if she engaged the bolts, her parents couldn't get in even with a key. She could, however, work the crank for the shutters and often helped her father with that evening chore.

She didn't remember the crank being so hard to turn and it took her a lot longer to close the metal shutters that it did when her father helped. By the time she was finished it was long past dark and there was still no sign of her parents.

Katy was starting to get scared now. The cheerful apartment was looking very dark and foreboding without her parents there. The shadows were longer and darker; the sounds of the building took on an ominous tone.

Her grumbling stomach led her in to the kitchen area and to the refrigerator where she gathered together the makings for a sandwich. She climbed up on to the counter and retrieved an extruded plastic cup and was carefully filling it with juice when there was a huge crash, followed by the sound of splintering wood. Katy screamed and dropped the cup, the purple liquid splashing all over her and all over the floor of the kitchen.

"Get in there and see if the kid is around." she heard a loud voice order. "We need to get the hell out of this area!"

The sound of boots tromping over the splintered wood of the front door sent Katy into a panic and she dove under the kitchen table, hiding in the shadowed corner where the table met the wall. She could see three sets of legs, all clad in dark blue pants and knee-high black boots with armor plates on the front.

"Kathleen!" a deep voice bellowed, "Kathleen Andrea Mackey. We are Peace Keepers and we are here to help you. Are you in here?"