War Torn (working title)
an excerpt

Prologue

The darkness and rain weren't unusual; they were, however, uncomfortable. She smirked at the thought, though alone, knowing that physical discomfort was nothing now - not the way it used to be.
The crumbled concrete walls, the scattered bricks, rubbish in what used to be streets all served as a reminder of the times she now found herself in. She remembered running water, not in the form of the rain on her head. She remembered hot food cooked in microwaves and convection ovens, not the rations they now called food and ate cold when not tinged with the taste of open fire. What were darkness and rain to her now? Now that she found herself all but alone?
Better not to minimise the company she did have, her friends and acquaintances, she thought. Better not to forget things could be worse.
Her leather-wrapped feet splashed through the water and, as her introspection turned to the task before her, their half-numb throbbing became as distant to her as life before war. She turned right just beyond the corner foundation of a half-standing building and raised her eyes to the flickering flames of a fire maybe a kilometre away. So be it, she thought.

As she drew closer she could make out silhouettes. Four then. She drew two hira-shuriken - kept walking.
The fire was under the cover of what would have once been a second storey floor, the figures around it somewhat sheltered from the rain. She deliberately made noise. One turned - a man. "Stop where you are!"
She stopped, slightly turned, her right hand concealed by shadow. "I'm just looking for a little Purified. Am willing to trade."
He laughed, a harsh, condescending sound. "Sure. You and everyone else. However, I doubt you'd pay what I'm asking." The laugh again.
"You can never be too sure." She replied, "try me."
"That's exactly what I want to do." One of his companions, a short, bald asian man snorted. She wondered what combination he was.
"Then show me the aqua."
He reached to his left "Throw it to me, Stace" A blue bottle came hurtling out of the darkness beyond the fire. He made a neat catch and a smug grin crossed his face. "Here it is" he held it out for her to see - a blue polycarb bottle with a large silver star on its side. "Come and get it."
She shook her head slightly, almost remorsefully, "Don't mind if I do." She shifted her weight and let one of her tiny blades fly. As if with one motion, her body moved into a roll with the momentum from the throw. She came into a crouch a little to his left and grabbed the water bottle from where it had fallen when he dropped it as he reached for his now-bleeding eyes. "You shouldn't steal" she intoned almost calmly. She drew a bo-shuriken and with a stabbing motion ended his pain.
With his body at her feet, she looked to the others. "Let this be your warning: if we work against one another we will all die." She paused and looked at each. From her new angle she could see a waifish girl of about fourteen - Stace, she presumed - standing between the small asian man and a taller, gaunt man with dark circles under his eyes who appeared to be about forty-five. None looked inclined to move. "The other bottles."
The tall man moved as if to walk then looked at her questioningly. "Go on," she said, "I'll trust you not to be stupid enough to try anything." He nodded at her, then at his companions, as he pulled a rucksack from his back. Four multi-coloured bottles, each with the same silver star as the first blue one, emerged. "That's all we took" he said gruffly.
"I know." She gave him a half-smile, a trace of superiority present. "Now bring them to me." He did, slowly approaching. "Now," she said, "place all but the purple one here at my feet." He complied then stood before her with the purple polycarb vessel still in his hand. He raised a questioning eyebrow. She laughed softly, "I heed my own warnings. I understand your need for Purified and, this time, give willingly." She clipped the other bottles to her utility belt, turned and started walking away - listening. "Don't follow me," she paused and looked over her shoulder, "and don't give me cause to follow you."
As she turned back the way she'd come and walked out into the rain, her thoughts returned to microwaves and convection ovens.