Is He Mad?

It is cold. Each morning is so very cold. Each and every morning I find myself trembling beneath the thin cotton blanket over me - it was given to me by an old man, the word 'given' being used lightly. I had to trade something for this blanket, that something being a set of mittens that I had taken from the young man who died from fluid in the lungs. I had felt no shame taking it when I first laid eyes on his still form, I still do not feel it. There is no room for guilt in this land. There is no room for shame, no room for joy.

There is room for existing, no room for living.

Every morning is cold here, so very cold that most men's toes have a way of just falling right off and they do not even notice it. I can not feel my toes and I suspect the same has happened to mine, however there is no room for caring at this point in my life, so I dare not look in my boots and see what I find. Each morning I get up and before I set out of the makeshift shelter I invaded, I carefully crease each corner of the rough coated material and fold it. I always tuck it in the bag over my shoulder before climbing out of the burrow.

Many would think with so numerous amounts of men down here, there would be much noise, much chit chat. No, not here, never here. That is saved for a few days within the year when supplies are lowered to us, then there is much talk - more like shouting and grunts, but talk nonetheless. Those days every able bodied man comes out of hiding, not afraid to get beaten over something that would aid them later on. I had made the mistake of being out there when it happens. It is wiser to wait until the majority of the men crept out of sight. If there were any stragglers left behind, they would be left open for attack and quite possibly death.

Today is not one of those supply days, so when I leave my burrow, there is nothing but silence. There are no birds, no airplanes. There is nothing but the cold and the wind to accompany you. It was bone chilling the first day I woke to silence, thinking I had gone deaf from the cold that night, but then someone had been running passed in an attempt to get away from a man half crazed out of his mind. I have gotten used to the silence and I enjoy it so much more now.

There is something in the tree to the left of me. I know it, I can hear it. It is not an animal, animals are scarce here, knowing just how many predators are out. No, it is that man called Alik. No, no, he is but a boy compared to the other men down here. I feel him watching me, his eyes penetrating the side of my head. There is a sound of a bow being strung back, it's pull audible through the slight wind blowing the snow over my frozen feet.

"Te-am auzit."

I hear shuffling, then the sound of someone landing at the base of the tree, having jumped from one of its limbs. Alik, the Romanian, was just a boy even though he had the appearance of a young man. A young man could be more skilled than an older one who has killed, I have seen and heard of many, but Alik is not one of them. I hold not much care for him, him just being another out here that I have to watch out for, though this boy did not put up much of a threat.

"Ah, Neek, you devil!" Alik has a smile on his face when I look at him, a smile much too bright for down here. I do not sigh nor do I roll my eyes at him, not like the other men who think he is a fool. "Ya sly, sly fox, you. How in the worl' did you hear me?" Alik comes with a gladness in his eyes that I do not mirror.

"You're English is getting better," I comment, not paying mind to his childish curiosity. There is no time to be curious in a place like this, no room for children.

"Only 'cause of you, Neek." It is true, I had taught Alik some english when I first arrived. He had been a comfort to me when all I had seen was men attacking each other. Alik's English is improving, I will give him that.

"You should know better to sneak up on someone." I lower the my hand to my side which clasps a knife in its grasp. "It will get you killed one of these days. I thought you knew better." I tuck the knife into my belt before arching a brow at him. In the outer world I had not much experience with children, but as I look upon the boy, I see his fingers twitch, a clear sign of either intimidation or impatience - and seeing as Alik was as slow as an Ox at times, I began thinking it is the first option.

His shoulders lift into a casual shrug, looking quite sheepish against their white surroundings. Apparently he does not know any better.

"Neek, ya making a joke," Alik teases, or at least I think he is teasing. "How 'bout we go get somethin' to much on, ye-?"

Alik does not have time to finish his sentence before a sound echos beyond the trees not even five yards away. And before I even realize it, Alik is not standing up anymore. He is on the ground, a sharp stick coming from his right eye. He twitches twice before going still. Better off that way than be here for too long, I think before reacting to the disturbance. Without a glance to the body at my feet, I quickly dart away in the opposite direction. It never occurs to me to head back to my burrow, knowing that I will regret it. No one knows that I killed the man who kept shelter in the burrow. It is always better that way, to go both unseen and unheard.

As I am running away from them, I can hear numerous voices echoing behind me. They are Roland's men, I soon realize as I leap into a tree and begin to climb higher. I was never fond of that American, perhaps the only American to be thrown into this pit, and the 'army' he cooked up before I had even came down here. They are a bunch of dogs who go for the first scrap of meat when presented by it. Despite them being of no intelligence, they are fast and they are strong, able to take down the ranking officer who dared to travel down here one day long ago. They had been merciless and took him for pleasure and not much else. When he was younger, a part of him ached for the officer, but he was dead soon enough and that ache went away, replaced with steady indifference. That steady indifference keeps me alive and that boy, Alik, had not possessed such a quality.

When I reach a limb that I deem high enough, I keep close to it, flattening myself against the bark. If I am fortunate enough, Roland's men will not lay their eyes on me.