… thoughts? (quick first draft)
IT WAS HOT in the abandoned subway tunnels. Steam billowed from vents in the ceilings, and condensation collected on the slick walls. Not even the rats were active today. Above ground, the temperatures climbed into the nineties, but below, where it should have been cooler, the poorly ventilated tunnels were like the labyrinthine pipes of a furnace.
On one of the disused platforms, a small boy stretched out on an ancient bench. Its paint was peeling, and the grime of centuries coated its surface. Perspiration glistened on the boy’s brow. He licked his lips, tasting the salt of his own sweat. A flush had crept into his sallow cheeks, and sweat stains blossomed under his arms and at his throat. A limp hand flopped over the edge of the bench and tapped lightly on the cracked tiles below. The boy was twelve; his pre-pubescent form was gangly and thin, with limbs that seemed far too long and out of proportion.
A shout echoed through the tunnel. The boy bolted upright and cocked his head to one side. The shout came again, and this time he was able to pick out the words. “Come on, Sam, where are you?”
He sighed, and his thin shoulders slumped. “I’m over here!” he roared back. Sam lay back down on the bench and closed his eyes. He clawed his limp blonde hair out of his face with a sweaty hand. The heat was stifling, and he didn’t want to move an inch. It made him sleepy and cross.
“There you are!” a voice above him suddenly said. Sam cautiously opened one eye and peered upwards. Another boy stood above him, and older boy. “Well, come on then, up you get!”
Sam sighed, but he dared not disobey. He sat up and drew the back of his hand across his forehead. “Jake,” he said, squinting at the other boy, “are we going somewhere? Are we finding someplace new to live?”
Jake rolled his eyes and lifted Sam to his feet. He was much bigger than the younger boy. At fifteen, he was the oldest of their little group, and he had filled out early. His broad, muscular shoulders strained against his stained white t-shirt, and stubble dotted his face. Dark, deep-set eyes peered out from under thick brows, and a nose broken one too many times featured prominently in his broad face. Jake’s strong jaw and cropped haircut completed the image of terror and compelled Sam to obey his every word.
“No,” Jake said, turning to go, “we aren’t leaving. But Thomas wants to see you.” Sam trotted along behind him without another word, trying desperately to keep up with the older boy’s long strides.
Thomas? he thought to himself. Why would Thomas want to see me? And why would he send Jake to fetch me? He could have easily sent Charlie, John, or the Twins. All of this went on inside Sam’s head; though talkative, by now he knew better than to annoy Jake with his ceaseless chatter.
“There you two are!” a voice called cheerfully.
Sam looked up just in time to avoid walking into Jake. He hadn’t been paying any attention to where they were going. The boys had entered a small, rectangular room, and when Sam looked around, five new pairs of eyes gazed back at him. “I was wondering where you’d gotten to,” the voice called again.
“Sorry Thomas,” Sam said. He shuffled over to sit next to the only other boy his age. “Hey Charlie.”
“Well, now that we’re all here,” Thomas said, moving to stand in the middle of the room, “I’ve got a bit of an announcement!” The boys all fidgeted expectantly. Sam found himself wondering how on earth Thomas managed to stay so cool. He was still wearing those huge boots, jeans, and t-shirt, and yet not a drop of sweat seemed to have formed on the surface of his skin. He looked – Sam thought for a moment, trying to find the right word – invigorated. Jake looked like he always did: solemn and huge and unmoving.
Charlie nudged Sam, who jumped; he’d let his mind wander again. “So, if you’d all chip in to show him the ropes,” Thomas was saying, “I think Chris is really going to like it here, don’t you?” He grinned at the boys, a quick flash of white teeth that always made Sam a little uneasy. He turned away, and it was then that he saw the new boy.
He was tall and lean, but in a hard, muscular kind of way. Sam estimated his age at fourteen, like John and the Twins. He was tan, and light sunburn kissed his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. Sam could only see one of his green eyes; the other was swollen shut. His lip was split, and his knuckles were bruised. Sam made a mental note to stay clear of Chris for a while.
“Well,” Thomas said, clasping his hands together. “I’ll leave you all to it for the rest of the day; back to work tomorrow, lads!” He ducked out of the room with a nod to Jake, and Sam could have sworn he heard him talking to himself again. Thomas was always talking to himself, he’d noticed, almost as though he heard someone talking back. He didn’t have time to think about this further, though, as introductions were being made.
“I’m John,” one of the older boys was saying, extending a hand. Chris shook it cautiously. John’s black hair was constantly falling into his eyes over the frames of his glasses; he shook it away and glanced about the room. “And those two over there are the Twins“ – they nodded to Chris – “and the small boys over there are Charlie – the redhead – and Sam. And that’s Jake,” he added, almost as an afterthought, tipping his head in the larger boy’s direction. “He’s sort of what you’d call Thomas’s right hand man, you know what I mean?” Chris just nodded, trying to keep the names matched to the faces in his head. “Right,” John said. “Let’s go find you somewhere to sleep.” The two of them left through a side door, and the boys gradually dispersed.
“What do you think of him?” Sam asked over his shoulder. He and Charlie were scrambling through a tunnel whose ceiling had collapsed. Charlie panted along behind him.
“Who, Chris? I … don’t know,” Charlie panted. He paused to rest chubby hands on his knees. His face was bright red from the exertion. Sam turned and bounded back toward him. He sat on a pile of concrete slabs.
“It’s been a while since Thomas has brought someone back though, hasn’t it?” he asked, tapping his chin. “I mean, most of us got here around the same time, didn’t we? We was all here together, and now he shows up. Wonder what’s going on,” he mused. Charlie did not reply. He sat down next to Sam and wheezed.
