1

The sun struggled to shine through gaps in clouds that hung in the air like old dishcloths. Raindrops glistened and popped as they hit a little glass shelter, a dim reflection the only sign that it was noon.

“How long now?” She turned lazily to her brother who squatted in the corner, swung her arms ever so dramatically and splashed her soaked feet in a puddle. He sighed, she pouted and spun around, stamping in the dirty water.

“I don’t know. It should have been here ten minutes ago.” He said to shut her up. She sighed and leant against the side of the shelter and let her cheek touch the cold metal frame and the cold drops dripple down her nose.

“I don’t know,” he whispered a moment later.

The pair, Anna and Thomas Firth waited for a car to pick them up. Being on the road for the last week had taken its toll on conversation. They were used to people being late, though the impatience of twelve-year-old twins was starting to show, especially as they were so close to their destination.

Thomas was worried as this shelter was the only construction for miles, a stop on an old post road with nothing but great flood plains below and torrents of water filling up a little drain beside them. It wasn’t even like the last way station, a crumbling building with barely running water and grime an inch thick; just a rusted bucket with dull glass.

At least the water is running, Thomas thought and sniggered to himself.

Thomas stood up to tiptoes and stretched, wrenched his shoulders back and touched the ceiling of the shelter with his finger. He wasn’t a tall boy at around five foot and four inches, his skinny figure pulled his coat up, and for second he looked as if his waist cut off at his neck, a pigmy head sitting atop a thin rectangle. He relaxed and leant against the back wall, crossing his arms.

“You’re soaked.” He mentioned matter-of-factly. Anna seemed uninterested and she turned and shrugged as if to appease him and quickly went back to get even more wet. “I wonder what he’ll be like.” Thomas half questioned, shifting to one leg and bowing his head. They hadn’t ever met their father, at least not knowingly. Anna wiped a raindrop from below her eye.

“Apparently not eager to get us there” she sighed with a spoonful of anger mixed in with her sweet voice.

Despite being twins the pair were very different from each other. He preferred his hair cropped to less than a pins width, and it looked almost grey it was so thin and close to the scalp. With his deep-set green eyes, and stick-thin figure he looked almost ghostly. Anna on the other hand was already reaching maturity and becoming womanlier. Her face was soft and flat, high cheeks bones gave her an eternally sunny expression and her skin had a glow about it. Even her hair had radiance - straight, golden blonde, a good shoulder’s length.

It was like they were separated at birth.

2

They play together on the floor of the dining room. The doll is the focus of attention, its ragged hair and soft fur is warm and comforting, even with a little slobber as Thomas forces its fingers into his chubby mouth. Anna giggles furiously and rolls around on the plush carpet. Mamma had told them a nice gentleman was going to take them away for a while, a little holiday. They enjoyed holidays and they fondly remember their stroll on the beach and the donkeys and the ice cream and sand castles.

A tapping comes from the front door. Their mothers’ footsteps clunk on the wooden floor of the hallway. The door squeals open and a gruff voice greets her.

“Mrs. Firth? I am Clement Tam, steward for Saint Christopher’s. I believe I’m here for a young girl?”

“Yes yes, please do come in, Anna is ready. My son will be off soon too.” She smiles and steps back so the man can come in. He looks over to the playing children and smiles.

“Twins?” he says warmly, watching them.

“Yes, just turned four. But it’s time to let them go to school.”

“It must be difficult separating them. May I ask where the boy is going?”

“Jordan Boys. They’ll be all right I’m sure, they’ll make friends, rather than just our housekeeper. You see, their father is in the army and hardly around anymore, and I can’t afford a private tutor to the same… standard as offered by your school. And I have to move too, with the fronts drawing closer.”

Mr. Tam nods pleasantly, probably not caring much either way.

The doll is boring now, Anna rolls onto her back and yawns, shuffling her hair and drawing her fingers through it. Thomas pulls faces that amuse him as much as they amuse Anna whom giggles helplessly.

“Anna?” her mother scoops her up to her feet. “This is mister Tam, He’ll be taking you for a ride and tomorrow you’ll be at your new home. And in a few weeks you’ll be starting school! Won’t that be fabulous?”

Anna stares at her mother quizzically, she doesn’t understand. She’d heard about school as she had been to nursery and being of a logical, if whimsical mind, new that school was a sort of continuation.

“What about Tommy mama?” she asks bluntly, Thomas’s ears pricking at his name.

“He’ll be off to another school Miss.” Says Tam, perching his old hands on her shoulders, “This school is for young ladies like you.”

Anna knew that she was going away from Thomas, she’s smart and even in her worry knew her mother was doing right by them.

“Ok.” She mutters sweetly, trots over to Thomas and hugs him. Thomas doesn’t understand as thoroughly, though Anna certainly isn’t in any distress.

“See you soon Tommy!” she yells before returning to her mother who kneels down and hugs her baby girl deeply, hiding her tears.

“My daughter growing up so fast!” she smiles before planting a kiss on Anna’s cheek. I’ll see you soon, you’ll be back before you know it!” Tam smiles and guides Anna out into his car.

“Don’t worry Mrs. Firth. Saint Christopher’s is a great school, she’ll love it.” He slides into the driver’s seat and slams the door, winding the window down and turning the ignition. “See you in nine months.” He smiles again. Anna waves sadly.

3

There was a rumble and a barely visible black dot on the horizon started to get closer.

“I think that’s our ride” Thomas stated, pushing himself away from the back wall of the shelter. He put the hood of his green-waterproof jacket up over his head where it hung like a monk’s habit leaving barely anything to see in the black beneath it. Anna’s was identical, but she was already wet and didn’t care to subject herself to tunnel vision.

Thomas leaned over to the other side of the shelter and dragged their heavy brown leather suitcases towards him, checking that the otherwise identical luggage wasn’t damaged in the damp.

“Here.” He lifted and placed Anna’s case to her side. Anna just nodded and pushed herself away from the cold frame, wiping her soggy face with her sleeve. It had been two hours since the bus stopped here, Thomas would be glad to be out of the damp. It was chilly even at noon and the damp had sent more than a few shivers through him.

“I forgot how long this road was…” Anna glanced at the dot that grew in the distance. The shelter may as well have been in the Styx, alone, almost exactly half way from the hell that had become their old country and pastures of freedom that their father had waiting for them in Newport. An old post road built on an embankment that just sat above the flood waters (in the spring melt) of a great river to the south, but far enough away that the mountain valleys it cut through millennia ago were but icy wisps of paint on a murky canvas. The shelter had probably been replaced many times, a stop gap for travelers when horses were the fastest transport and caravans were common going towards the coast in the east. These days it was just a stop for a bus, for the farmers of the plains, but even they wouldn’t venture far from their villages now.

The dot turned to a smudge to a solid object, sleek and black, only a few minutes later. The car stopped smoothly, its engine whirred like a gust through a small crack. The sound heightened for a second as the car hovered into position and came to a complete stop. A row of flickering yellow lights ran along its skirt giving warning to the maneuver. The sound ceased.

The twins stood together and watched the door; the windows were black like the rest of the car. A few seconds felt like an hour. The door clicked open and a tall man at least a head and a half taller than Thomas stepped out. His black suit was crisp with neat folds in the legs and arms - shiny cufflinks and spotless shoes. He was wiry and had a morose face that was half covered in shadow under an umbrella (also black) that he deployed expertly as he slid from the car. The twins looked at each other with a raised eyebrow, their expressions mirrored.

“Master Thomas Firth? Miss Anna?” He offered a hand. His umbrella’s canvas stretched outwards to cover them with a mechanical hiss. “I am Farg. Farg Roe, your father’s assistant. I apologise for my lateness, double booking in Newport, entirely my fault, sorry.” His voice was nasal with a very upper-class twinge – ‘I arm Faarrg’ – the sound. Silence.

“Shall we?” he continued while opening the trunk with a hand gesture. The rear passenger doors opened with a click at the same time. He lifted the heavy bags with ease, plopping them in the trunk.

The twins got in.

4

The car was much warmer, but not so hot that they would sweat under their coats. The seats felt so snug and had a lush interior that matched the elegance of the cars exterior slender form. The passengers were separated from the driver by a screen made of the same black opaque material as the windows. The exterior windows appeared transparent.

There was a rumble as the engine started and the car lifted off from the ground. With a ‘Clunk’ the doors locked, standard procedure on all vehicles these days, as was the seatbelt indicator that flashed and flashed until the twins clipped in the harness to its port.

“It won’t take long until the way station children. We’ll stay the night and continue in the morning. Enjoy the ride, out of the rain.” Farg’s voice crackled over the intercom and stopped. Thomas pushed a little button next to the screen - a little microphone icon with a line through it - the mute button. They could talk in private.

“What do you think?” Thomas asked with a concerned expression.

“Dunno.” A simple reply from Anna “he seems a bit…”

“Creepy” they said in unison smiling at each other, holding back a giggle. They hadn’t done that together for a long time.

“Can’t wait for a nice bed, and a warm room” Anna mused stretching and touching the ceiling (also very plush, and as soft as wool).

“Yeah… I’m really tired now to be honest. It’s been a long day.”

“It’s been a long week!” Anna smiled and leant against the headrest. Thomas smirked and stretched his legs towards the middle of the cabin and leant back too, his eyes only wanting to stay half awake.

“I suppose I could get some kip now heh” and he closed his eyes and sniffed away the cold vapour running from his nose. Anna whispered:

“Yeah.”

5

Anna was awoken by the sound of a loud voice. The car was still moving, but very slowly from what she could see out of the window. It was dark, night had crept in and only the odd street lamp illuminated the road which was barely visible as the rain drops splattering the side of car. The intercom wasn’t on; the screen was as black as before.

The voice again - raised high, raspy. Not Farg Roe.

Anna pushed the microphone button again.

“Is everything alright?” she asked quietly. Thomas woke up and rubbed his eyes.

“What’s going on?”

“No idea, I thought I heard someone shout. Farg hasn’t answered.”

The front cabin was quiet as the twins listened carefully for a voice. The intercom crackled:

“Is everything ok children?” Farg’s voice asked condescendingly.

“I would ask you the same question Mr. Roe.” Anna replied, Thomas stared at her wide-eyed at such a direct question.

“Of course Miss Anna, why wouldn’t it be? We will be at our first destination shortly.” The crackle ceased.

“Mr. Roe? MISTER ROE?” she asked loudly. No reply. She hit the microphone button again.

“I don’t like this.”

“Me neither” Thomas replied, reaching into the top pocket of his coat. He pulled out a clear stick that was no more an a few millimeters thin and a centimeter or so wide and long. In a similar action he pulled out a credit-card sized device which blinked to life with a colourful screen; a few finger taps later it showed not the colours of a menu for music and holography, but something complex that Anna didn’t understand, or care to. He slid the stick into a slot on the underside of the device and performed a series of frantic taps.

“Where did you get a phone like that from? Aren’t they expensive?” Anna quizzed.

“School. Free under a new initiative for state schools. Not quite as hi-tech as the latest stuff, but at least I can have one that does more than just browse the web.” He paused and raised an eyebrow. “Aha!”

“What?”

“I think I have it.”

“What?” Anna pouted.

“The password for the screen.” He held the device up and tapped the screen again. “If it’s still set at default anyway.”

The device beeped with a pretend polyphonic sound from inside his pocket - the wireless headset he forgot to pull from the coat - the screen flickered.

And went off.

6

There were two men in the front.

Farg stared ahead at the road.

The other turned, gun in hand.