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Once A Thief

  Cemen Colony

  Alexandra A. Cheshire

  Copyright 2014 Alexandra A. Cheshire

  All characters, events and places in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual people or places past or present is strictly coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Once A Thief

  About Alexandra A. Cheshire

  Once A Thief

  Wind Valley, July-10

  Of the four seated around the table in the large, elegantly decorated dining room, only the three men are actually eating. The woman is sipping her rapidly cooling tea without touching the contents of her plate. The only sounds are of cutlery on dishes. Or at least until one of the men speaks.

  “Did she take anything?”

  A second man glances up at the speaker, “Her blade.”

  “She'll be okay then.” The first man nods to himself.

  “You really think so?” The woman frowns, clearly concerned.

  “She needs some time and space...” The second man takes a deep breath, “Honestly, so do I.”

  “Meaning?” The woman continues to frown.

  “Will and I leave for Belstrand tomorrow. We'll be back when we're ready.”

  “You'll look for her then?” The first man guesses.

  “Long as I'm still able to track her down.”

  “And if you can't for some reason?” The woman demands.

  The first man shakes his head, “She won't be hard to find when she's needed.”

  * * *

  Settlement City, November-61

  The wind blows scraps of garbage along the alley. Several people huddle down in ragged blankets and other scrap cloth. All of them shiver except for one petite form.

  The figure is female, seemingly in her teens, with long, matted, blonde hair and eyes like the cold wind. She is wearing a loose, ragged t-shirt and ancient dark jeans. Her arms, feet, and head are bare. She crouches down against a brick wall, not seeming to see anything around her.

  A ragged small child comes running into the alley and launches herself at one of the shivering heaps of blankets. Fabric wrapped arms emerge to pull the child inside the blankets. Moments later, giggling can be heard. Most of the cold faces around them break into smiles. The petite female rises to her feet and walks away.

  The silent petite figure pauses at the alley entrance. Pale, cold eyes take in the scene in front of her.

  Two ragged women are doing their best to shelter a small girl from a heavy set man wielding a large handgun. Both women are pleading and crying. The child is cowering and whimpering.

  Before the petite female can react, the gun goes off twice and the women fall. The child bolts, narrowly evading the man's reach, right into the petite female. The small girl stumbles as the man lunges towards them. Suddenly, something silvery flickers through the air and he falls.

  The petite female approaches the prone form and kicks it over. Reaching down, she retrieves a knife and wipes the blade clean on his clothes. The knife vanishes as the petite female turns to leave the alley.

  The small girl is shaking as she slowly gets up. She eyes the petite female warily. Then her eyes go to the fallen women. Before she can start towards them, the petite female catches her. The small girl kicks and struggles, but cannot break free. The petite female holds on until the small girl falls limp.

  The garbage littered alley looks nearly identical to any other alley in the neighbourhood except for a single symbol roughly scratched into the wall beside the far door. As they approach, the petite female checks on the small girl in her arms. The child is still unconscious. At the end, the petite female shifts the child enough to allow her to raise one hand to knock. A cold wind whips along the alley, redistributing the garbage and causing the unconscious child to shiver.

  Finally, the door opens just enough to reveal a poorly dressed, irritated looking woman, who eyes those outside warily, “Wha' d'you want?”

  The petite woman shifts the child to one arm so she can pull up the left sleeve of her t-shirt to reveal a tattoo. The woman in the doorway studies it with a rising eyebrow.

  “That doesn't entitle either of you to anythin'. Not here,” She scowls, “Not when we can't even feed our own.”

  The petite female raises a sceptical eyebrow, allowing her sleeve to drop and shifting her hold on the child again.

  “What?” The other woman's scowl deepens, “Times 're hard an' the Church spares no quarter for those beneath their notice.”

  Cold eyes study her critically, but the woman's expression only grows darker. Finally, the petite female shakes her head and turns away. As she walks the length of the alley, she can hear the door slam.

  The small girl in her arms stirs as they leave the alley, but does not wake. The petite female keeps walking, her eyes glancing over the buildings around them. Eventually, one heavily boarded up old shop catches her eye. She glances over what can be seen of the front before circling around to see what there is for a back door. What she finds is a basement entrance with a heavy duty padlock on the door. The concrete steps going down to the door are crumbling and the landing at the bottom is layered with indistinguishable debris, some of which is sharp even to the petite female's hardened feet.

  Setting the still sleeping child on a relatively clear step, the petite female fishes a piece of old wire from the mess and bends it into the shape she wants. She uses the makeshift tool to pick the padlock, which she sets aside. When she tries the door, it sticks in the frame, requiring a hard yank to open. Once it is open, she steps into the doorway to survey what can be seen of the dark space by the light from outside.

  Old boxes and crates are stacked haphazardly and there is a strong smell of old alcohol mixed with dust. There are no visible windows and the whole space appears to be one open area, which is only a little warmer than outside.

  The petite female scoops up the child and carries her inside. Setting the small girl by the wall, just inside the door, the petite female pulls the door tightly closed and locks it from inside using the deadbolt. Once her eyes adjust to the near complete blackness, she turns her attention to checking the contents of the crates and boxes, most of which turn out to be empty. The full ones are stacked into a wall to prevent access to the inside stairs. The rest are moved against one end wall, leaving most of the floor open. Once that is done, the petite female pauses in the middle of the floor to survey the dark space.

  A whimpering comes from beside the door and rapidly grows into a full blown cry. The petite female goes over to the small girl, crouching down beside her and reaching out to rest a hand on the matted hair.

  “So dark.” The girl clings to the arm, tears pouring down her face.

  The petite female purses her lips momentarily before standing and helping the child to her feet. She takes one small hand in hers before unbolting and opening the door. Outside, she replaces the padlock, ensuring it is securely in place.

  “What is this place?” The girl looks up uncertainly.

  The petite female does not respond. Nor does she loosen her grip on the child's hand as they mount the steps.

  On the street, they walk in a seemingly random direction and are soon mingling, barely noticed, with the other pedestrians in a busier part of town. Eventually, their route takes them into an alley where both lean against a wall. The petite female empties her jeans pockets, coming up with three fat wallets. She quickly rifles through them, pocketing the cash and tossing away everything else. The small girl also empties her pockets, shrinking a little under cold eyes as she sifts through wrapped hard candies, pens and other small items of little value. The petite female slowly shakes her head as the child tucks her treasures back away.

  The two link hands again before leaving the alley and wa
lking to a junk shop near the abandoned building they had visited earlier. When they enter, the clerk eyes them warily. The petite female guides the small girl over to a chair near the till and sits her in it with a silent warning to not move. The child grips the edge of the chair, shivering under the wary eyes of the clerk, as she watches the petite female move around the shop.

  She picks through a mountain of questionable looking bedding before finally selecting two sleeping bags and several of the best blankets. Those are brought over to the counter and piled beside the till. Next, she rifles through rack after rack of clothing, slowly gathering an armful of garments which are eventually piled with the bedding. Then she picks up a battery operated lantern and any useful batteries. Lastly, she moves to a bin of miscellaneous kitchen items and selects a few things. Once she brings those over to the till, she produces the wad of bills from her pocket. The clerk rings up the sale, names a total, and accepts the approprate bills. The whole pile of items is