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“You look hungry,” she says.

It’s our little joke I guess, for lack of a better way to describe it. It was the first thing she said to me when I saw her that night.

As a Defender I’d lived frequently in less than desirable circumstances: sleeping on the ground or in vehicles, subjected to the elements and shortages of food and water. I’d learned to cope with the physical demands of the job – which initially gave me an edge on the street. But my compassion got the better of me. If I had lucked upon some food, but I saw someone else smaller, weaker, younger, older, needier, I’d give it to them. They probably needed it worse than I did – like the jacket to my Gray Issued Basic clothing – the uniform of the ununiformed after we returned from The Trenches.

They wanted us easy to spot. You see women – or what are supposed to be women – wearing GIBs everywhere you go. It’s all they left us with.
We went into Processing and they took our weapons, our Battle Issue Gear clothing and everything else they deemed as ‘sensitive.’ That included pretty much all of our personal items such as journals, photos, pillows – you name it – if it wasn’t physically attached to us they argued that it could contain mission sensitive information or that it could have been exposed to contaminates.

And then they tested us all for fertility – but not to submit us to the breeding list. Most of us were sterile – big surprise there, but they surgically sterilized those ‘lucky’ few to ensure that they wouldn’t become pregnant and pass on abnormalities from our exposure to harsh chemicals and toxins.

We were also briefed on the new Breeding Laws in effect that strictly forbade Defenders from intimacy with a man. Most of us didn’t care – but somehow it seemed unfair that they took so much from us and left us with so little. But in the end, what was just one more regulation to follow?

Just five months after storming out of the Center I had taken all I could – or maybe more appropriately, given all I could. I tried to care for the weaker women and younger girls I encountered, the occasional old man too dried up to breed and to weak and undereducated to be of use.

But I had nothing left to care for them with. I gave my boots, my socks, my jacket and most of the food I found to those who needed it worse. Then I gave my will. Or maybe I didn’t really have one to give and I finally realized it. Just another Defender turned Streeter – not allowed to beg, relegated to the allies by the local Force Officers whose top priority is keeping the street clean.

Relegated… Another one of her words. I use them more and more now. Maybe she’s right – maybe we aren’t that different…

I was in MY alley. I’d found it and went there frequently because it was one of the few places with a clear view of the night sky. That night the moon was high and full. The stars were so sharply drawn on the black curtain over heard I thought I could see their jagged edges.

The air was bitter cold and I yet I sat still as could be, slowly letting myself go numb – knowing the last thing I would see would be the night sky and knowing they would find me in the morning, dehydrated, frostbitten and dead. And I wouldn’t care. I’d let go of caring long before now.

Then I saw her – at the head of the alley.

She wasn’t pretty like the woman in the Center.

No.

She was beautiful.

Her white fur-lined coat elegant and fitted – her long blond shiny hair literally reflecting moonlight – just like her white clothes and pale skin. She was definitely not in hiding. No one was crazy enough to be out past curfew and fully clothed in white.

For just a moment I wondered if the old fables of angles were true. I’d never been a Believer. I wasn’t anticipating fading into some eternal rest or reward. I knew that when my heart stopped that night that nothing would remain – except maybe an emaciated carcass of what had once been a Defender.

Then I knew; and as if to confirm my suspicion, she ‘popped.’ I’d never seen anyone ‘pop’ before. It’s when someone at a distance instantly closes the gap between you. Her kind were the only ones we knew of that were capable of ‘popping’ but here I’d believed the Council when they said they were all dead. I should have known better by this time.

“You look hungry,” she said softly directly into my ear. I closed my eyes, but her breath was not warm. That was part of the modification. At the time they were tracking Fighters with infrared sensors. So the Modified Fighters were essentially cold-blooded. They’re body temperature was exactly the same as the air temperature.
Even the Force Officers wouldn’t know she was there if they couldn’t see her with their own eyes.

I opened my eyes and stared straight ahead – not at her. I was not afraid. Maybe this was the better way after all. I wouldn’t have to wait to die now. She was an Angel – an Angel of Mercy and she was here to end me quickly.

“Are you hungry?” I asked softly – vapor rising deceptively from my lips now parched and numb from cold.

“I already ate.”

Her cheek pressed firmly against mine and yet may face was so numb with cold that I could only sense the pressure of her face, and not really feel her skin against my own. But I could smell the meat on her breath. Real meat – and blood.
This was not a dream or hallucination. This was real – perhaps the first real moment in my life. I was not afraid, but my pulse quickened. Maybe it was the anticipation of what I thought for sure was soon to come. Maybe it was being actually physically touched by another living being – or maybe it was just her beauty. But I suddenly felt alive. I suddenly felt excited. I suddenly felt like something was about to change forever – and I was right.

“You won’t last much longer here – but you know that,” she crooned. I’d never heard a voice like hers before. I’d never been spoken to like this before. I saw twisted humor in the moment and wanted to smile – perhaps for the first time in my life, but my lips were so dry and tight that they only twitched and cracked. I inhaled a bit sharply in what felt like possibly a laugh.

She squatted down in front of me and took me in playfully with her eyes.

I’d thought that the night sky was the most beautiful and last thing I’d ever want to see – but I now knew I was wrong. Her eyes danced and sparkled like the crystal bright stars never had. Stars were cold and distant but her eyes were living, breathing, burning into me and seeing me with an intensity I’d never been seen with before.

She didn’t seem cruel – but still I knew what she was and what the inevitable conclusion of this exchange would be.

“I’ve waited long enough,” I managed to bark out in a barely audible whisper between gasps. “Do what you’re going to do and let it be finished.”

“Perfect moments like these my pet, are best enjoyed with patience.” She smiled.

“I’ve…” my speech slowed considerably under the weight of my labored breaths as my head finally started to swim and darkness began to close on me. “…waited,” I continued, “a long time.”

“So what’s a few more seconds?”

Her face and searching eyes dimmed and blurred before me and I slipped into a sensation of falling. It seemed to last forever and I wondered if the back of my head would ever hit the pavement. And then everything was quiet and black.