Steps Towards Daylight

Naked, shivering, and hungry, I huddled in a doorway. The blistering February wind surged through the street, biting my exposed skin. I’d been walking for hours searching for shelter. My coat had been stolen three days ago by a gang of homeless kids.

The city was in chaos—broken glass from shattered windows crunched underfoot; overturned cars were charred and smoldering with smoke still curling upwards in thin grey wisps. Debris littered the streets; rubbish that hadn't been cleared since the war began.

I'd seen it coming and tried to escape but was too late—a global conflict that nobody could have stopped or predicted.

Tanks rumbled past on roads torn apart; angry red flames flickered through gaps in the blackened shells of buildings. Sirens blared constantly.

My stomach growled plaintively as I stared at the wreckage of houses further up the road—they must have taken a direct hit but so many were like that it didn't matter whether it had been enemy bombs or our own side targeting their strongholds. We were all fucked.

I pushed myself to my feet and prepared to trudge onwards when I heard a noise behind me, somewhere in the shadows within the building's entrance—it could just have been another piece of debris falling but instinct told me otherwise.

"Who's there?" My voice shook as much from fear as from hunger and cold.

A figure stepped forward into what passed for light—I blinked furiously trying to make sense of what I was seeing—was this another hallucination? Was my mind finally cracking?

He stared silently at me with dark eyes sunken deep into an emaciated face framed by lank dirty hair; his clothes hung off him like they were draped over a skeleton. He looked as though he should have fallen apart long ago yet here he stood watching me with something close to amusement in his gaze—a scavenger who had found a new prey.

"What… what do you want?" I whispered, trying to keep my voice steady but failing miserably.

"I could ask you the same question," he replied, his voice a dry croak. "This is my territory."

"Sorry," I mumbled, stepping back from him. "I didn't know…"

He chuckled and took another step forward, fixing me with his gaze—I tried to look away but couldn't break free of his stare.

"I've been watching you for a while now—ever since those kids stripped you of your clothes."

"You were here… and you did nothing?"

"I thought it was hilarious." He laughed. "Besides, what could I have done? They'd have killed me."

It was true enough—I hadn't put up much of a fight but they had still left me battered and bruised and naked. I glanced down at my skinny body covered in scars old and new—proof that survival in this city for the last few years hadn't come easily.

"Why were they after you?" he asked, interrupting my thoughts.

I looked up at him again—he seemed to be waiting for an answer rather than simply being polite or interested in my story.

"They wanted the food that I'd managed to find."

"And did you give it to them?"

"Yes." I nodded. "Of course—I didn't have much choice."

His face hardened and his eyes bored into mine again—I felt as though he was searching for something deep within me—as though he could see into the darkest recesses of my soul.

"There will come a time when you won’t let anyone take what is yours—when you will fight tooth and nail for every scrap no matter who stands in your way."

"I hope not," I said softly and took another step back from him—he noticed and grinned showing teeth like broken yellow tombstones. "Are… are there any shelters nearby?"

"Why would I tell you? Then it wouldn't be mine anymore."

I nodded slowly, taking in what he was saying—I'd known from the moment I heard him speak that he wasn't an ordinary scavenger. He had a presence and a darkness about him that set him apart from everyone else.

"If you're not going to help me then why did you come out of the shadows?" I asked finally.

"I wanted to see if you were worth saving—whether you had it in you to survive this war. It's been raging for so long now and even when it comes to an end, as all things eventually do, something new will rise from the ashes and take its place, something worse. Can you look forward to that and still fight on regardless?"

He paused for a moment fixing me with his gaze again as though searching for the answer somewhere within my soul but said nothing more. I swallowed hard and tried to find my voice.

"I can try." It came out as a whisper but he nodded approvingly.

"Then go," he snarled suddenly making me jump. "Find your own shelter because this one belongs to me."

I turned and stumbled away along the street, glancing back after every few steps but he was no longer there—he had disappeared back into the shadows from whence he came.

A siren wailed in the distance growing steadily louder; I forced myself onwards ignoring the pain in my empty stomach and the shivering in my limbs—there were others like me hiding somewhere nearby who needed rescuing too.

As long as there were people willing to help each other then maybe we could survive whatever came next. There had to be hope.

Didn't there?