PROLOGUE

It’s pretty hard to tell what does bring happiness;

poverty and wealth have both failed.

-Kin Hubbard

It’s so dark…have I gone blind? Do blind people really see blackness? I don’t think so; darkness looks like something to me. Ok, I’m not blind. It’s warm here. Am I underground? Oh! I was going to sleep in the subway station. But this can’t be underground; the air is too fresh. And…I’m moving? Why am I moving?

It’s cramped. I could be in a car trunk? Yeah, that makes sense. Do you think they locked it? Of course they locked it; car trunks don’t open from the inside anyway. Well, I’ll try pushing on it. Maybe they open from pressure on the inside, since so many people have gotten trapped. See? Ah, the sun feels good.

In a dingy Target parking lot, a car trunk clicked open and a grimy boy climbed out. At first glance, he was just another street kid, like so many who grew up without home or parents in those days. On closer inspection…well, he looked about the same. His thin frame, well concealed under a pair of ratty jeans, a T-shirt full of holes, and a gray vest two sizes too big, spoke of a slim diet - probably not starving, from what could be judged, but no longer well fed. His matted black (or, perhaps, just dirty) hair clung to the top of his head, drenched in sweat from the heat of the car. His face was smudged, but a pair of brilliant green eyes shown out from under the dirt, the only hint of humanity left in his appearance.

“Anthony! Where you been, man?” The dirty boy turned to face the source of the voice. A teenage girl in a bright pink top and light blue jeans was walking toward him across the lot. As she came near, he fell to his knees, the shock of everything that had happened coming back to him.

Shit! I remember what happened now. It’s damn lucky I got out of that car trunk where I did; looks like we’ve come a long way from where I got picked up. I could have woken up on the highway; or worse, in one of the neighborhoods they have under control. After last time…I would have preferred the highway.

I need focus. Collapsing in a parking lot won’t keep me free for very ling. Sure, it’ll get me off the streets, but the hospitals are hardly better for me. You know, they’re probably worse - hard to escape when you’re that outnumbered, stripped of everything you own, and in that labyrinthine building. I need to get up.

By the time the girl reached his side, Anthony had managed to lift himself back up. He managed a weak smile for her as she moved to help him.

“I’m fine, Chris, just a little disoriented from my car ride.” He motioned at the open trunk behind him. “We need to get out of here; they’ll be coming back out any second.” He glanced at the door before setting off down the street.

“Anthony! Who’s gonna come back? What kind of crowd you fell in with this time?”

“I’ll explain when we’re out of sight. Come on, hurry. I sense someone coming.”

True to his prediction, not moments later a beefy man in a security outfit rounded up in front of them. “Well, well, looky here. Caught me a couple of street rats, did I? This one’s pretty; you selling out for food, honey?” Chris shot him a look that could melt steel, but before she could respond, Anthony grabbed her arm.

“Don’t you have some work to do over there? That car-” he nodded to the one he had climbed out of “-appears to be stolen. You should get on solving that.” His eyes flared red for a moment, and the security guard faltered a few steps.

“Yeah…stolen car…I’ll get right on it.” He turned away from them and kept walking, as though he had never even seen them. Once he was out of earshot, Chris yanked Anthony up higher and started dragging him away.

“Moron! I could have handled him. You’re in no condition to use up that much energy on a bottom feeder like him. He’s right though; I’m much too pretty to be seen with you. Hang on a second.” She stepped away from him and closed her eyes. A change began to creep over her figure; while when she appeared, she had been in perfect shape, almost model worthy, she now was growing to the frame of a slightly obese woman. Her height dropped several inches, and her clothes melted out into a sort of gray smock, with a few colorful stains. Her hair, a beautiful red, faded into a dirty blond, and her eyes darkened from light blue to a shade of steel. When she spoke again, it was the voice of a middle-aged smoker. “Perfect. Let’s go get you clean.”