The Locket

She found it in a muddy ditch. The sun caught the metal and shined just enough for her to notice. She bent and retrieved her treasure. This world was no place for girls or women. She wore men's cloths with her breasts bound flat against her. Safer. She was a thief, and a good one at that.

No one really believed that "Doomsday" would happen, but it did. It began slowly with climate change. Everybody blamed everybody else as water dried up and plants wouldn't grow. People began starving. Society was rocketed out of control, what was left of it. To add insult to injury, it got much worse as a small asteroid rearranged the world.

Large masses of land had been displaced. There were new mountains and seashore lines. The Artic and Antarctica were gone. After years of darkness the sun came back and made a difference. In the years of dark, history stopped being recorded. The end of time was spoken of by those that managed to stay alive. Lena had been lucky. She had been raised in the time of recovery (hopefully named). She considered life an adventure with some easy pickings and big price tags for foolishness. Living was a deadly serious business.

She headed back to her camp of large stones, strewn together, toppled one on top of another. Some places had hidey holes that she new well. When she settled into her safe haven, she extracted the newfound metal treasure. It was a locket, an empty locket. No necklace, just a locket. It was quite feminine and somehow comforted her. With a chain added, it would bring a good price or be a good bribe.

It was off to the dump, which continually burned. Then, to the market filled with poachers and scavengers just like her, although many were not so agile and cunning. Along with rudimentary trading there was the risk of being picked up by Slavers who were always looking for fresh meat, literally. There was a market for human flesh, slaves and torturous entertainment. It was dusk by the time she got to the dump and came up with a piece of twine. She owned a knife carried in her boot and took pride in her use of it. The regulars knew of her prowess and acted accordingly. She had gutted a Slaver in town and then saw the use of masquerading as a man. It was a woman they looked for.

She could not find a buyer for the locket. Nobody had anything. The sound of marching men became audible. Slavers were bringing the captured to sell, trade or kill. Little spots of civilization sprung up, but "might makes right" ruled just like in the old world. She hid to see the action. She had become an action junkie in the wake of skill she had easily learned.

It was incredibly demoralizing and cruel when they held the baby up by it's feet, started swinging it's head closer and closer to the wall wailing "if nobody wants to buy, it's going to die." Then it would be sold, crushed skull and all, for meat. Something jumped in her heart. She was a man, sort of. They wouldn't expect her to be a him. She found herself confidently walking towards the Slaver, twirling the locket on the twine in front of her yelling "Here it is! Valuable metal! Here it is! Real jewelry! Locket for the baby!". If only she could stop herself.

The ground began to rumble and shift, opening a giant sinkhole. Everything began to fly and fall at the same time. She saw the baby fly up and start falling. Everyone was running. Unbelievably, she caught the baby, had the locket and was running away. It was all too foolish! What had she done?

As she rounded the pathway home she saw the Slavers at her place, tossing her stuff. Lena retreated and waited until they left. The crumpled body of a young boy, not quite dead, was sprawled on the ground close to her rocks. He looked up at her and the baby and said "the baby and the locket belong together." His smashed face then starred lifelessly.

She was good at quick decisions. It was between the desert and the mountains. Mountains got the nod. Babies bake easier than grown people she concluded. She gathered the few things left about. One of here prize possessions was a small compass. She would miss this spot where she had eeked out a living and even some respect. She knew she was in danger and worried about caring for the kid. She had noticed although the baby was breathing, it wasn't exactly conscious. Probably a blessing, really. What if it was loudly squalling? They could be lying dead with the boy. Paying that high price for her foolishness, she'd just have to wing-it.

She walked throughout the night and slumped into sleep holding the little one close to her tit. No milk, but she thought it might provide comfort. She had heard of a village far north where "things" were much better. It was regarded as rumor. Before they left, she fished two items out of her pant's pocket: the compass and the locket on the twine, which fit perfectly over the baby's head. The baby stirred and fluttered it's eyes open for a second. Lena saw an odd color in the eye whites. The baby blinked and went back to sleep. Lena wondered if the baby was dying. She needed to find food and shelter by next sunrise.

As Luck would have it, food and shelter found her. The air was cool, clear and thinner as they worked their way higher and further north. She had found a trickle of a stream and was wetting the sling the baby was using, then squeezing water droplets into the babe's mouth. The fact that the baby could still swallow lifted her spirits.

She heard a noise behind her. Startled, she turned to see a dog running off. She thought of Slavers. The dog returned with an elderly man, leaning on his walking stick looking just as surprised as she did. He came over and sat on the rock next to the stream. He was talking. Lena wasn't sure if he was talking to her, his dog, or himself. He got back up and motioned for her to follow. She followed with a mix of reluctance and relief.

They walked. He seemed to know where he was going, muttering the entire time. She had heard good and bad things about Hermits, that's what she figured he was. No worries, she a had knife in her boot.

She just didn't see it coming. They were walking into a small clearing. All at once, the old man grabbed her, held her close and made one clean sweep in licking her face like a dog. She closed her eyes in disgust, a second later she opened them to a strange new land. When she looked around the light was low, but the floor was hard, black glass or ice. That was for sure.

The old man released her with the baby and motioned for her to still follow. There was a commotion of sound in some sort of people up ahead. The place got lighter as she walked down the hallway to a large hall. There was a group of small wrinkled people and some taller, slender individuals. What was this? An intact building beneath ground? Just then she passed out.

She woke up in a bed, in a small room with a well dressed woman sitting in a chair cooing at the baby. She felt shell shocked and things were not making sense. What appeared to be a servant came in and handed her a large cup of grog. She swung her legs onto the floor, sat up and took a drink. It was good. There was no danger.

The Lady of the house spoke. At least that's how Lena saw it. She also noticed the light grey where white should have been in her eyes, same color as the baby's and wearing the same locket. An uneasy tingle flew through Lena. Lena needed more info and was intent on listening. The Lady said "You have a choice to make. You can live here with us. You'll be safe and busy, or you can return topside and resume your life. We owe you a great deal. You saved a child. A very rare child. I'm sure you've noticed the eyes. This place was built long before the end of days by scientists trying to build a better human, a problem solver, a good moderator blessed with compassion."

"Genetics", Lena mumbled. She had heard the horror stories and had already made her choice. She wanted out and wondered if violence would be needed. She looked at the angelic babe and the same mothering instinct that almost killed them and then saved them kicked in. Families were a bad idea topside.

"We understand your misgivings. We mean you no harm." The Lady explained, "Just think it over. I'll leave Ette with you. She can show you around and is knowledgeable." The smell of baby shit filled the air. The Lady of the house left with the baby to rectify the situation.

Ette sat down in the vacated chair, as if to speak, but Lena cut her off.

"You don't need to give me the grand tour, or long explanations of how things work down here. I want out. I can't be caged up. There really is nothing here for me. I have my own destiny. I am a woman of action!" Ette hurriedly left to fetch the Lady of the house.

They came back together. "Well, well, I've heard a decision has been made. We will gift you with supplies and thanks. Although I do have a favor to ask. We have a limited amount of genetic material. Our population shrinks and grows old. Many are not fertile. Would you donate your eggs?" the Lady asked.

"What!! My eggs!! ", Lena had snapped to attention. She had an itchy feeling in her boot.

"Wait!" the Lady said. "Nothing happens by force. Let me explain." So far, these strange people had helped her out of a tough spot. She no longer had to worry about the baby. Ette was sent for more drink and for the next two hours the Lady poured out history and heartfelt fears. Without question, it was Lena's decision.

After the operation, while dressing Lena examined the small tattoo on her inner thigh, a hidden spot. The outline of the locket looked back at her.

She would be the beginning of a new breed that could live underground or topside. They would easily make great scouts, pioneers, adventurers and historians for starters. Each of her offspring would have a small heart outline on the upper thigh. It would be possible, although not probable, to identify themselves to her.

Getting ready to leave, she sorted her supplies: her trusty compass, a small bag of real jewels, a sturdy hammer, a small axe, a bowl, spoon and fork, two new knives, a space age blanket, seeds, a cutting wire, and an extra pair of moccasins. All of that fit into a small pack, leaving room to spare and was slung across her back. Another bag holding dry food hung from her shoulder.

As she was leaving, Ette rushed up and whispered in her ear "If you meet an old man with a walking stick and a dog, grab him, hold him tight and generously lick his face. We might need you back here. "

The End?