Wiped by Nicola Claire Page B

exposed here. If these urchins have backup, we’re sitting ducks.”
    Trent offered him a growl, his hand slipping to the back of my neck possessively. And here was the protective instinct kicking in again, I thought.
    But then the children moved. En masse, surging up and growling. At Beck. A bigger ‘back off’ he couldn’t have received.
    Trent smiled. His eyes on me and not the ragged kids.
    “They understand,” he said.
    “They understand body language,” I argued.
    “Yes and no,” he said, pulling away with a soft stroke of his finger over my cheek. “They appreciate a good love story, but there is understanding of our language to some degree.”
    His hand slipped into mine, then he pulled me down into a crouch before the children. Bringing us to their height. They stilled, but didn’t pull back. Anticipation and curiosity shone from their eyes. A sense of greed poured from their little bodies.
    This close I could see their injuries, the disabilities they lived with, that they could have lived with since birth. It was hard to tell. This environment would not have been conducive to a healthy lifestyle. Danger would have lurked at every pass. I also had trouble identifying what was wrong with them. In Wánměi we didn’t suffer like this. Upper lips split so wide the teeth inside were missing. Feet pointing in the wrong direction to such a degree it was clear the children walked on their ankles. Some had hands missing. Some had wisps of hair on their head as though they were eighty. Bones at odd angles. Eyes milky white. Skin covered in open sores.
    This close my heart weeped.
    “What’s happened to them?” I asked, my voice shaking.
    “There are parts of Lunnon,” Calvin said in my ear, “that should not be seen.”
    “This happened because they went there?” I queried. When none of the Cardinals, nor Trent and Alan, looked confused at my question, I knew Calvin had made his comment to everyone wearing an earpiece.
    “This happened because they were born too near them,” Calvin said softly.
    “All of this?” Beck asked. I hadn’t realised he’d come up behind me. And as my hand was still in Trent’s, I felt Trent stiffen at the Cardinal’s proximity. I was sure it was his proximity to me.
    But Trent didn’t react, other than to hold my hand tighter. Then he forced his punishing grip on my fingers to loosen. The effort required looked painful. He was trying, I’d give him that. And somehow it made a difference. Somehow it made it easier to believe.
    The confession had been delivered as an act; the rebel leader pretending to be contrite. The irony was the words had been honest.
    I squeezed his hand back.
    “Life here would not be easy,” Calvin was saying. “Born in the shadow of such devastation. Forced to survive in a world already half dead. Why they stay is a mystery.”
    “They have no way to navigate the ocean,” Alan offered.
    “Where there is a will, there is a way,” Calvin said cryptically.
    I watched the children watching us. They didn’t shuffle in their seats as the young of Wánměi so often did. They didn’t look elsewhere when their attention span short circuited. They watched with an intensity that puzzled me. Not scared, but wary. Not aggressive, but tightly coiled.
    They’d attack given half the chance. But they understood the threat of the Cardinals’ laser guns. Still, their interest piqued my own. They were waiting for something.
    Despite their physical injuries, they were intelligent of mind. Maybe Trent was right. Maybe they understood more than body language. But what tongue did they speak?
    I leaned over slightly and placed a hand to the centre of Trent’s chest. He automatically lifted his free hand to cup mine, holding it against his heart without conscious thought. Yes, actions spoke louder than words. But I needed the children to speak.
    “Trent,” I said. Then repeated it. I pulled my hand from his grip, feeling the cool air as soon as his heat left