by Realto » Thu Feb 09, 2006 3:59 pm
The further below the walkways you travelled, the cheaper life became. At the ground, amidst trash heaps and oil-drum fires, the gangs ran amok, killing each other over patches of land. The few bits of land that still sustained organic growth. Those without it starved and those with it would defend these 'hallowed' places to the last.
Callum was a runner. His task involved scouting the slums until he spied a target and then waiting until the guard was at a minimum before firing off a flare to call for backup. He then fulfilled his namesake, for the enemy would quickly try to take him down, this would usually pull further guards away from the target, making his allies' attack more succesful.
If the foe could not be overcome, then the attack became a raid and Callum's next task would be to come about and try to steal any organics he could get hold of.
Of course it was dangerous, but what wasn't down here? Life was cheap, and in comparison to a pound of Cathari Leaf, his life was expendable. Without organics, they would all starve.
Today he'd hit the jackpot, or at least Jokko, his boss, would think so. It had taken all day, slowly making his way through to the western side of the slums, where old warehouses that had once been grainstores were now all but abandoned. Jokko had once said that the reason the gangs kept away was that occasionally the walkway dwellers sent down hit squads out of a hidden lift near here. It was the 'sky people's' way of keeping the slum dwellers in check.
Of course the hit squads would never go too far from this area, that would have been deemed risky, any ganger would be assured respect if he could take down one of the armoured killers, and the forays were infrequent at best. Still, it was enough to ensure that people did not try to settle in those big sheltered buildings.
Anyways. Here he was, behind a huge industrial machine that had once been an incinerator, but now lay in the deep rust of decay. He peeked round the corner once more to ensure he had not been imagining things. There, alongside a wall of stone, stood a small wooden shack, a 'shed' he had heard the older ones call it, or at least it fit that description, and next to that, a square of earth with tall poles cross tied at the tops with pieces of thin white material.
But it was what was growing on these poles that made his find all the more spectacular. Runner beans. Long and broad pods. Organics. Food. Enough to feed the gang for a few days, maybe a week. And there were signs of other shrubs growing beside the poles. He couldn't quite make them out, but food was food.
He was about to make his way back to his own land, when the door of the little shack creaked open. And nothing he had ever seen in his life down here had ever prepared him for what he would now see.
Just imagine there's something witty here for now. I'll get back to you later.