Why had their parents told them to come here?
The place was far, yes, and the government probably didn't have any eyes here. But it wasn't safe either. The thought that it might have been a set up gnawed at Lyra's brain.
We wouldn't have been alive if it was.
There were no supplies here. Someone had even stolen some of theirs.
But not all. Maybe they were just trying to survive too.
Ryan slowly got up and Lyra stayed where she was, sitting against the wall holding her knees tightly and scanning the place in alarming tension.
"Already up? What time is it?" He yawned, stretching his arms.
The sound of the hatch opening echoed in the air, sending shivers down Lyra's back. She grabbed their bags and pulled Ryan up, desperately looking for somewhere to go. Somewhere to hide. But there was none.
The heavy metal lifted slowly, its hinges creaking.
This is it.
We're done for.
Lyra grabbed Ryan and ran to the far edge of the bunker, their footsteps matching the sound of the boots climbing down, hiding him behind her. The bitter taste was back. And so was the sense of impending doom. The thought of surrendering crossed her mind when Ryan's hands grabbed onto her shirt. She knew giving up wasn't a choice. Not with him here.
The boots hit the floor with a thud.
The silhouette loomed in the middle, slightly illuminated by the light spilling in. It looked around menacingly before spotting them, the face breaking into what seemed like a smirk.
"You're the kids with the supplies, huh?"
He stepped closer.
"Let's make this easy. Be a good girl and hand your shit over, hm?"
"Don't come any closer." Lyra hissed back, bracing for a fight.
The man laughed — sharp and ugly.
"He didn't take much last night. Figured there had to be more."
So it was him. Or someone with him.
Lyra's fingers clenched tighter around the strap of her bag. She could feel Ryan trembling behind her.
The man tilted his head. "Just give me what you've got. I'll be nice this time. No one has to get hurt."
"Back off."
He didn't.
He lunged.
Lyra moved without thinking, swinging the bag hard — it slammed into his arm, buying her a second. She shoved Ryan toward the shadows.
"Go!"
But the man was faster than she thought. He grabbed her by the shoulder, dragging her back. "You little—"
She kicked his legs and they buckled. The man threw his hand up to grab her again but she moved away in time, his nails digging at her arm, drawing blood. She backed away and looked around. Boxes, trash, but no weapons. She gritted her teeth as the man stood up. He grabbed Ryan who happened to be close and she froze.
"Hah, sneaky little girl. Now give me your shit or he's gonna get—"
A loud thud and a sickening crack rung out.
Everything was silent for a moment. Then the man fell forward, squirming, unconscious.
Standing over him, breathing hard, was a girl. Roughly eighteen. Boots worn through. A bruise on her cheek. And a crowbar in her hand.
She gave Lyra a quick once-over, then glanced at Ryan, who was curled in the corner, eyes wide. Lyra ran to pull Ryan away from the girl and backed off defensively. Her arm stung but she couldn't relax.
"You're welcome," she said flatly, before nudging the man with her boot. "He's a rat. We've been watching him. Guess you got lucky."
In the corner of her eye she saw something shining-a broken pipe.
Bingo
She grabbed it and got in stance, glaring at the girl.
"Is that what you call a thank you?" The girl chuckled.
Lyra didn't answer. The pipe felt cold and right in her hands.
The girl sighed, lifting both arms slowly, like Lyra was some cornered animal.
"Okay. Sure. Let's play it that way. You planning to beat me next?"
"I don't know who you are."
"And I don't know who you are either, pipe girl. Yet here we are." She tilted her head toward the unconscious man. "Unless you'd rather deal with him when he wakes up?"
Ryan tugged at Lyra's sleeve. "Lyra…"
The girl's expression softened, just a fraction.
"Look, I'm not here to steal anything. Just saw him lurking around and figured I'd make myself useful."
Lyra didn't lower the pipe. But she didn't move, either.
"Your wound might get infected." She gestured at Lyra's arm with the crowbar. "Know how to treat it?"
Lyra averted her gaze.
"No."
"Let me help you."
The girl reached into her pocket and took out some bandages.
"I don't want help. Back off."
The girl didn't move. She just crouched slowly and set the bandages on the ground between them.
"Fine. Don't trust me. Smart, honestly. But take the bandages when I'm gone. Wash the wound too."
Lyra's grip on the pipe didn't ease. "Why are you even here?"
The girl stood again, dusting off her hands. "Was tailing him. Figured he'd lead us to someone. Didn't expect kids."
Ryan, still trembling, peeked out from behind Lyra. "You were following him?"
"Yeah." She nudged the man's body again with her boot. "He's been ratting rebels out. Was gonna take your stuff to buy himself a deal or something."
Lyra narrowed her eyes. "You said 'us.' Who else?"
The girl hesitated — then shrugged. "Just someone who's better at hiding than I am. Don't worry. If we wanted to rob you, we wouldn't have waited for him to do it first."
Silence.
"What's your name?" Ryan's voice sounded out.
The girl raised a brow at him, then smirked. "Cenyx, or Nyx."
Before Lyra could tell him to be quiet, he exclaimed:
"I'm Ryan! That's my sister, Lyra."
Lyra shot him a look.
But the girl just nodded, like it was enough.
Lyra glanced at her bleeding arm, pain flickering across her face. She swallowed hard but didn't lower the pipe.
Ryan, finally relaxing, peeked from behind Lyra once again. "Can she help?"
Lyra shot him another warning look. "Be quiet."
Cenyx sighed, dropping the crowbar and pulling a small knife from her belt and cutting a long piece of the bandages.
"I'm not gonna hurt you, kid. Just clean it up." She reached forward, gentle but efficient.
Lyra squinted, this reminded her of how adults would always say "trust me" in that authoritative way of theirs. Or someone that'd just found a beat up puppy and wanted to help. Despite the constant alarm bells going off, telling her to run, or to fight, she stayed still as the girl came closer. She could sende Ryan relaxing a little and moving out from behind her. She knew it was wrong. Her mother told her not to be too trustful. To always be on guard.
Cenyx pulled a weird bottle out of her pocket and the sting of the liquid mixing with the ache in her arm made her flinch.
"So," Nyx said, tying the bandage tightly, "you and your little brother alone out here? That's gutsy. What's your story?"
Lyra hesitated, eyes darting to the hatch.
"We're just trying to survive."
Nyx's gaze softened just a fraction. "That's all any of us are doing."
"Can you help us?" Ryan stepped forward, but Lyra held him back.
"Listen, kid, I move around a lot. You'd just hold me back. Though your sister here has some skill."
"We'll be fine. You can leave." Lyra snapped back.
"Mhm, I'm sure you'll do great all injured like that. If this guy found you there could be others."
"What are you trying to say?"
She looked Lyra up and down, as if sizing her up.
"How old are you?"
"…sixteen."
"You don't look like a stray. What brought you here?"
"None of your business."
"Listen, princess, I'm thinking of bringing you with me since you could prove useful. You've got one foot in the grave being out here, you don't want you and your brother to die, do you? That guy almost snapped his neck earlier, what makes you think you can take the others?"
Lyra stayed quiet. She knew Cenyx was right.
Ryan looked between them, eyes wide. "Lyra… maybe we shou-"
"I said we'll manage." She cut him off, her voice was steady, but her fingers clenched tighter around the pipe.
Cenyx exhaled through her nose, clearly biting back a response. "Look, believe it or not, I don't want to drag dead weight around. But I've seen enough people like you—young, pissed off, with nothing but fire and nowhere to burn it. They die fast."
She pointed at the unconscious man. "Unless you want to be like him, or worse, maybe don't spit in the face of the only help you've got."
Lyra's jaw tensed. Her arm throbbed under the fresh bandage. She didn't trust Cenyx—not really. But she'd seen the way the crowbar had come down. Swift. No hesitation.
"You'd really take us with you?" Ryan asked, quieter now.
Cenyx looked down at him. "I'd take her." Then she jerked her chin toward Lyra, and glanced back at Ryan. "You? Only if she says yes."
That hit a nerve. Lyra stepped forward, shielding Ryan again.
"We don't need your charity."
"It's not charity, it's strategy." Cenyx smirked. "You pushed the guy off without a weapon. That was pure technique—not luck. And the pace you grabbed the pipe with? I'm sure you've got a decent swing too. That's rare out here."
Lyra stayed still, heart pounding, like her body hadn't gotten the memo that the fight was over. The silence stretched too long.
Finally, Cenyx muttered, "Fine. Be stubborn. Just don't bleed to death while figuring it out."
She turned, picking her crowbar up off the floor and tucking it under one arm. She was almost at the hatch when Lyra called out—
"Wait."
Nyx didn't turn. But she paused.
"If we go with you," Lyra said, voice lower now, "we don't take orders. We watch each other's backs."
Cenyx looked over her shoulder, something like a smile tugging at her mouth. "Fair enough, pipe girl. But don't get in my way."
Following Cenyx they moved through the forest and entered what seemed like slums of an abandoned city. Everything seemed old and worn down, like the whole place had been forgotten in time. Lyra had never seen such old places before, all the buildings looked as if they could fall at any moment, and others only had one or two walls up. They moved through some kind of alleyway and entered through a manhole cover. But instead of sewers, there was just a long hallway.
"How many bunkers are there exactly?" Lyra asked, amused.
"Only these two that we know of in the area." Nyx replied, dusting herself off.
"Nyx, what is this?" A deep voice called out, and Lyra gripped the pipe tighter.
A tall man stepped out of the shadows. His hair was a mess, but his glasses were pristine—round, wire-framed, and oddly elegant. He looked only a little older than Cenyx, but something about him felt older. Not in years, but in gravity. Like he didn't belong to the streets.
"Relax, they're with me," Nyx said, brushing past him.
The man didn't move. "Great. We're reenacting Lord of the Flies now?"
"I have no idea what that is," Nyx replied, slapping his shoulder. "But I'm glad you're being welcoming. In your own… aggressively sarcastic way."
Lyra froze.
"You know Lord of the Flies?" she asked, half whisper, half accusation.
He blinked at her, then grinned. "You know Lord of the Flies?"
Cenyx looked between them, baffled. "What are you weirdos doing? Is that, like, a slogan or something?"
Ryan stepped forward, his voice small. "Wait… if he knows books too, does that mean he's like us?"
The man glanced down at him, his expression softening just enough to reveal something unspoken. "Maybe. Or maybe you're like me."
Ryan didn't know how to answer that. Neither did Lyra.
Cenyx snorted. "Okay, great bonding moment, but can we please get out of this manhole before I start feeling like a sewer rat?"
The man turned, motioning for them to follow.
"Come on. You've walked through fire to get here. You might as well see where it leads."
They followed him down the narrow hall, echoes of their footsteps tapping against metal and stone. Lyra's grip on the pipe loosened, just a little.
She didn't trust him. Or her. Not yet. But something told her she needed to hear what they had to say.