Prologue

“Roach, what was that noise?”

“Go back to sleep, Precious.”

As Roach heard the soft rustling of the sheets behind him, his trembling hand again brushed back the thin, tattered curtain. Through the pallid trunks of the trees surrounding us, he could see the flickering flames of torches navigating the forest silently. The beams of moonlight that streamed down through the branches of the trees illuminated the masked faces of the figures moving like specters through the brush. Drones, Mothers, and Workers alike had come to find them, bearing not only torches to guide them through the shadows cast by the canopy of intertwined branches and leaves, but glimmering guns and axes and one Drone had even brought a pitchfork. To Roach, the mob looked like demons lurking about with the flames of Hell dancing above their heads. They were screaming in fear and rage as they neared the cabin where Roach and Precious hid.

And there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.

Roach shivered, letting the curtain fall back into place as he turned his back to the window and sank down to the dirt floor, prodding the dusty surface with the big toe of his left foot. His dark brown hair fell in oily clumps about his face, and he lifted one delicate hand, brushing it through the tangles painfully. The action brought tears to his eyes and he stopped, cupping his hands over his knee caps wearily.

The cries were closer now, and Roach could make out their hateful words as they spilled brokenly through the filter of the gas masks.

“Burn them! Burn them!”

Roach’s black eyes burned as he lowered his hands and turned onto his knees, crawling to the window and tentatively brushing back the fabric to peer out into the night. The mob had formed a semi-circle a couple yards away from the cabin, their torches held high and their weapons shimmering in the glow of the flames.

“Roach, are the boogeymen coming?”

The boy felt his body stiffen, and the tears came at last, dampening his dark eyes and flowing down his drawn cheeks to curve around his jaw line in thick rivers. Behind him, the sheets rustled, and the springs of the thin mattress creaked. Roach took a deep breath and brought a violently shaking hand to his face, rubbing the tears away with his index finger and thumb. “Stay still, Precious.” He hissed, turning once his face was dried. “I’m coming.”

He let the curtain fall back into place and stood, crossing silently to a small bed in the corner of the single room cabin. Beneath the two pale sheets laid a skeletal figure wearing a pair of old, worn pajamas that had once been a pale blue color. Now, the fabric was a mix of muddy browns and the colors of vomit and blood. The figure’s once long, healthy blonde hair hung in uneven strips sporadically over the boy’s’ balding scalp. Clumps of the youth’s flaxen hair pooled on the flat pillow and all over the sheets. Roach cringed, his eyes falling on the thick boils and the peeling flesh that marked the other’s face and neck and the backs of his hands. Precious childishly stretched out one hand, which was missing its pinky finger. “Roach, I can hear the boogeymen, they’re coming for me aren’t they?”

Roach took the extended hand and brought it to his face, letting the other’s rough flesh brush against the unscarred skin that was pulled taunt over his cheekbone. “Precious, pay no mind.” He whispered, lowering himself to sit down on the edge of the bed. The springs of the mattress groaned and screeched in agony beneath him, and Roach held Precious’ hand to his chest, letting his companion feel the steady, firm drum of his heart against his ribcage. “I’m not scared.” Roach assured the other as Precious turned watery, infected eyes toward the window where orange light from the torches was spilling between the holes and tears of the curtain.

“What is that color? It looks like the sun.”

Roach looked from the feverish boy to the window and swallowed hard. “Its dawn, you should go back to sleep, Precious. Its very early still.”

“May I have some water?”

He lowered his eyes again, noticing the hoarseness of Precious’ voice. “There is no more water, Precious.” He admitted guiltily. He did not add that there was also no food. It doesn’t matter anymore, Roach thought to himself as Precious scooted over in the bed.

“I’m frightened, will you stay in the bed with me?”

Roach nodded, forgetting that Precious might not be able to see him now that his sight was failing. He laid down, grimacing as he settled onto the uncomfortable mattress and laid his head on the sweat dampened, hair covered pillow. “You won’t let them get me, will you, Roach?”

“No,” He replied shakily as he heard the thumping of wood against wood. “I promise. I’ll not let them hurt you. Just sleep, Precious. I’m here.” Tears sprang to his eyes and he draped his arms about the boy’s emaciated frame.

Someone had thrown their torch.

Chapter One Bedtime Story

Once upon a time there was a Mother named Laughter.

Laughter was a very special Mother, she was Joyful Tears’ younger sister. Joyful Tears was the first Mother and the founder of the colony. She brought Laughter, her sister, and her aging mother Doris with her when she left the dead City. The City had been destroyed by bombs and nothing that was once considered civilized was left standing.

But that’s a story for another time.

Laughter had been given the Drone Beautiful as her first mate, and they mated together on the night of the Beautiful’s sixteenth birthday. The mating was successful and Laughter became pregnant with a child. Laughter could not have been more happy, for the most beautiful thing on this earth is a birth and the life of a woman is nothing if she cannot reproduce.

When her time came to bring forth her child, there was much celebration. Beautiful was even allowed to sit in the room with Laughter and Joyful Tears and the other Mothers during the birthing, something that most Drones are never allowed to do. Beautiful held Laughter’s hand in his while she struggled with the pushing and pulling. Finally, the child came.

It was a boy, which should have made Laughter very proud, but there was something terribly wrong. The boy’s skin was a lovely chocolate color with tufts of dark brown hair atop his head, this also would have been celebrated if the child’s parents had not both had skin as pale as new snow. It came to light then that Laughter had, against the rules of the colony, taken a mate before Beautiful. Laughter and the Drone she had mated with were sentenced to death and Beautiful was given to another Mother to mate with. Before she was taken away, she called the dark child a cockroach, the first word she had said since the child’s birth. And, as was custom, this became the child’s name.

Cockroach.

The Mothers called the boy Roach for short, and it became unlawful in the Mothers’ home to say anything badly of the boy’s namesake. They couldn’t even kill them! If one was found in the house, it was taken away by one of the Drones and released outside. The boy was given as a Son to a Drone named Lovely. Lovely remained in the Mothers’ mansion with Roach and raised him, teaching him in the ways of the Drone and everything the boy needed to know about mating. Roach learned quickly and grew into a beautiful drone, admired by everyone. Joyful Tears herself laid claim to him, and so for his first mating, he will be with the Great Mother. When…”

“Roach?”

Roach opened his eyes, batting his lashes rapidly as he was drawn from his narrative. He turned his head, looking at the boy laying beside of him. “Yes, Precious?”

The boy called Precious wriggled beneath the beige sheets that covered his small mattress that laid on the floor at the foot of Roach’s king sized bed. Precious’ blonde hair fell about his childish, round face in gentle curls; his bright blue eyes were half closed and drowsy. “I don’t think I quite understand, Roach.” His full lips parted in a yawn that slurred his quiet words. He lifted one slender hand and pressed its heel against one of his eyes. “What exactly are Drones again?”

“Drones,” Roach began sagely, tapping the tip of his index finger against the freckled tip of the younger boy’s nose lightly. “Drones are fertile males that mate…”

“Mate?”

“You know, Precious. They sleep with them. Have sex so that the fertile women, the Mothers, can have children.”

“What if the drone is in-infer…”

“Infertile?” Roach shivered at the word, feeling a tendril of fear snake through him. “If that happens then the Drone is put down. Killed.” He added as Precious raised one pale brow questioningly. The boy shuddered.

“Can you tell me about Sons?”

Roach smiled and nodded, glad for a change of subject. “Yes.” He shifted in his own bed and lifted himself to his elbows, leaning over the side to peer down at the inquisitive boy next to him. “You are a Son now, Precious. Sons are boys that have reached puberty and need to learn how to be a Drone. When you reach my age, you’ll be a Drone and you’ll be able to mate with the Mothers.”

“Have you mated with anyone yet?”

Roach shook his head, his long, straight brown hair dancing in front of his face. “I’m supposed to mate very soon, though, when I’m sixteen.” He laid back down onto his back, toying with the buttons that ran down the front of his silky red pajama shirt.

Precious closed his eyes and fell still. “When is your birthday?”

“Tomorrow,” Roach murmured, nibbling his pouting lower lip. “I’m mating with Joyful Tears tomorrow.” A twinge of excitement fluttered through his now pounding heart. “Precious?”

“Yes, Roach?”

“Why don’t you come up here with me?”

Roach stared up at the canopy hanging over his four poster bed as he listened to the sound of creaking mattress springs and the rustle of sheets. Precious slid beneath the sheets beside of Roach and tugged the blankets up over his shoulders, yawning softly. Roach turned onto his side and brushed his fingers through the dozing boy’s curls. “Goodnight, Precious.”

“Night, Roach.”

Chapter Two Birthday

Roach awoke to the warmth of the sun as it spilled through the windows down onto his face. Yawning, he closed his eyes again and reached to the other side of the bed where Precious had been the night before. His dark hand fell on nothing but sheets and a pillow. A frown turned down his lips, and Roach pushed himself into a sitting position, rubbing his eyes with the heel of one of his hands. “Precious?”

Roach leaned over, looking down at the empty mattress with its sheets folded neatly into place. The boy settled back into the bed and ran his trembling fingers through his dark hair. His eyes found the canopy hovering over him again, and he sighed, massaging his scalp before lowering his hand to his chest. A sigh slid past his lips and he had begun to doze again when the smell of food filled the room. Sniffing, he opened his eyes again, in time to see Precious padding across the floor with a tray in his hands.

Roach’s eyes widened, and he carefully sat up as Precious offered him the tray, setting it down on Roach’s lap carefully. The younger boy smiled shyly, his cheeks flushing as he clasp his hands together at the small of his back. “Happy Birthday, Roach.” he whispered.

Roach wetted his lips as he looked down at the china plate covered with scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, and pancakes saturated with syrup and a square of butter on top. There was a small porcelain cup of a jam and two slices of toast in the corner of the tray. The boy’s stomach growled, and he grabbed a fork and spoon that laid on the tray by the plate wrapped daintily in a pale handkerchief. Putting the handkerchief into his lap, he began to eat while Precious stood at his side, rocking back and forth from the balls of his bare feet to his heels. Roach had nearly half of the food that had been prepared before he heard a soft noise. He glanced up, his fork decorated with a square of pancake hovering just in front of his lips. Lowering the fork, he blushed and scooted over on the bed. “Precious?”

“Yes, Roach?” He stammered, his fingers laced together at his stomach in embarrassment.

“Sit down, have some.” He offered, pushing the piece of pancake into his mouth before offering the fork to Precious. The blonde boy’s eyes widened, and he smiled as he sat down beside of Roach and took a piece of the toast, smearing some of the jam onto it before bringing it to his lips.

The meal was quiet, and once it was finished and the tray was resting on Precious’ mattress, they both laid back in the bed and snuggled under the sheets, drowsy and satisfied.

“Roach?” Precious asked, closing his eyes. His head was resting on Roach’s chest and one hand was laying on Roach’s abdomen. Roach idly twisted locks of Precious’ hair about his fingers.

“Yes, Precious?”

“Do you think it hurts? To be put down?”

Roach went rigid, his hand beginning to tremble faintly as it combed through Precious’ hair. “No, of course not, Precious. Its like… going to sleep.” Precious considered this then opened his eyes, tilting back his head to look up at Roach.

“If I must be put down, will you be the one to do it?”

Roach furrowed his brows, letting his hand stop in mind stroke among the other boy’s pale hair. “Precious, must we talk about this now?”

“I have to know…”

Roach closed his eyes, bringing his unoccupied hand to his temples and massaging them with his thumb and forefinger. His Son’s question had brought back the painful memories of the Morgue.

The Drone Lovely had taken him to the Morgue to watch some of the terminations when he had just been fourteen years old. He could still remember the cold, concrete walls and the long, thin fluorescent bulbs that ran across the ceiling in rows.

The floor was stone, and rats, their tails wriggling behind them like snakes, scurried about the edges of the walls, disappearing into the cracks. The terminations took place in a small square room at the back of the Morgue. It had a two way mirror facing out into the Morgue where Sons and Drones stood to look in and the poor soul being terminated would not have to see the pitying or impassive faces that watched them die. Within the Room was a metal table where the person would lay and there was a single door that led back into the main room; this door was always locked and the only ones permitted to enter the Room were the high ranking Drones, which were the favorites of the Mothers, those who had been born of Joyful Tears and Roach, who had been born of Joyful Tears’ only sibling.

Roach had been given his own key to the room when he had become a Drone, and the cold strip of metal hung at all times about his neck by a leather cord. Since it was given to him, Roach had kept the necklace and its morbid pendant against his chest concealed beneath his tunic.

A boy just seventeen summers old had been laying on the table the day that Roach had been taken to the Morgue. Roach could still remember the young boy’s face. He had had shoulder length black hair and beautiful olive skin. His named had been Bright Eyes because of his unusual bright emerald eyes. Those eyes had been saturated with tears that day; Bright Eyes’ face was devoid of emotion as he stared up at the ceiling and awaited the arrival of the Drone that had raised him. Roach could not remember that particular Drone’s name, but he did recall the handsome young man stepping into a room with a syringe. Bright Eyes had not moved or even turned to look at the Drone as the elder male moved to Bright Eyes’ side and doubled to kiss Bright Eyes’ forehead before pushing the needle into the boy’s arm.

“Roach? Roach, what’s the matter?”

Roach cringed as he opened his eyes and looked up into Precious’ startled face; the younger boy’s blue eyes were wide with fear, and his hands were resting against Roach’s cheeks. Roach slowly sat up, blinking away tears that he could not remember shedding. Precious’ voice was shaking. “Roach, I’m sorry. What’s wrong?”

Roach stretched one arm and wrapped it about Precious’ waist, his other hand still tangled in the boy’s blonde hair. “I just… I don’t want to ever speak of this again.” Precious reclined his head against Roach’s chest, nodding slowly.

“Yes, of course. I’m sorry, Roach. I won’t bring it up.”

“Good,” Roach whispered, burying his face into Precious’ hair.

“Roach?”

“Yes, Precious?”

“Let’s go outside.”

~

“You’re going to be fine, Roach.”

The boy’s hands were shaking as one of the Mothers, one called Finally, carefully cleaned Roach’s long nails. Finally shook her head filing the tips of his nails to a neat, gentle curve. “Roach, what were you thinking?”

“I needed to relax some. It is my birthday, you know.”

Finally arched one thin brow, letting Roach’s hand fall into his lap as she moved around him and sat down behind of him grabbing handfuls of his hair. “There are other ways to relax, Roach. Playing like a child in the dirt and grass is not something you should do before you mate!” She gently admonished, shaking her head.

Roach flinched as the Mother’s fingers combed through his hair to try to get out the tangles and pieces of grass. “Finally, I’m a little worried.” He confided, fidgeting as she tugged his hair into elaborate twists and braids, weaving ribbons and beads into his hair. She brushed a few tendrils of hair down, letting them hang by his stiff jaw line.

“Roach, its going to be just fine. Everyone is nervous their first time.” She shrugged her thin shoulders, clipping back the loose strands with a crystal barrette. Roach pressed his lips together firmly, taking in a deep breath through his nostrils. A small stab of pain shot through his lower lip and chin, and he extended his tongue to tentatively lick the silver ring that now decorated his lip. It still stung.

“There you are! Your hair is done and you’re all cleaned up.” Finally leaned forward and kissed his temple. “Stand up now so we can finish.”

Roach stood to his feet, keeping his eyes down as he felt heat rising at his neck and cheeks. The group of females giggled softly as they stepped to him and began to draw intricate designs on his dark skin. His hands were done last, and the whirling, twisting designs curved around his fingers and spread out like pointed flower petals in his palms. “You look so handsome.” One of the Mothers whispered into his ear once they had finished. They all bustled around him gathering cloth for his robes while the ink dried onto his skin.

Roach was visibly shaking by the time the Mothers had draped the burgundy and gold colored robes about his lithe frame. His feet were delicately slid into elegant slippers, and a droplet of blood was dabbed away from his newly pierced lip before he was ushered into a hallway outside of the chamber where he would mate.

The two heavy doors to the chamber were tugged open by two Mothers and Roach saw Joyful Tears. The woman, five years his senior, was wearing a gold colored sari wrapped about her slender body; the fabric clung to the curve of her hips and chest and spilled about her ankles into a pool of glistening yellow. Light brown hair fell to her waist in cascading waves. Her green eyes flickered as they studied the boy standing in front of her, and Roach swallowed hard under her scrutiny.

Her full lips turned up in a smile and she offered her hand to Roach as the other Mothers scurried away. Taking a deep breath, Roach took the woman’s hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the back of it. “Mother.”

Joyful Tears curled her fingers about his hand and drew him inside. Roach followed her through the spacious chamber, his eyes immediately coming to rest on the full sized four poster bed surrounded by translucent, lacey curtains and a drooping, pale canopy. Joyful Tears pulled him toward the bed and released his hand, turning back to look at him again. Roach’s eyes moved nervously about the room, taking in the soft, amber light from the thousands of candles.
“Cockroach?”

Roach turned to Joyful Tears. “Yes, Mother?” He tried in vain to keep his voice steady.

“Just relax,” She said softly. She rolled her shoulders slowly, allowing the sari to shift and slide off of her shoulders to the floor about her feet. Roach’s eyes widened and he took a step backwards, falling onto the bed. He crawled backwards toward the headboard as Joyful Tears moved toward him, pressing one knee onto the mattress and leaning over toward him. “Don’t be nervous.”

Roach’s eyes were fixed on her, his breathing ragged and irregular as she put her other knee onto the mattress and curled her fingers delicately about his ankle, tugging him gently toward her. She laid on top of him, the tip of her tongue caressing the hope about his lower lip. Roach’s fingers curled around the black sheets beneath them while Joyful Tears’ hands pushed away his robes. Her lips touched his throat and he closed his eyes, his whole body going rigid. Her warm breath spilled over his shoulders, and their lips met.

Roach’s grip on the sheets tightened as her hands searchingly moved to his arms and her thumbs moved in slow, firm circles, massaging his biceps and smearing the tattoos. When their lips parted, his robes fell into a heap by the bed, and he opened his eyes, watching as the light from the candles gave Joyful Tears’ skin an amber hue. Releasing the sheet, his fingers found the curve of her hip and ran up her side, brushing over her ribs before he let his hand fall again to the mattress.

Chapter Three After

Black ink was smeared over her pale skin and one of the wrinkled ebony sheets was draped over her, just barely covering her breasts. Her eyes were closed, and her hand resting on Roach’s dark ink stained abdomen. Roach’s eyes were fixed on the canopy hovering above him; he felt tired.

Joyful Tears nuzzled his chest in her sleep, and Roach glanced down at the top of her head, feeling as if he should put his arm around her, but he could not bring himself to do so. His fingers clenched and unclenched at his sides shakily. He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but it wasn’t this. He had thought he would feel good, relieved, afterwards. Instead, he felt lonely.

He wished that he could go find Precious.

“Roach?” Joyful Tears leaned up onto one elbow, looking down at him. “Are you alright?”

The boy nodded, looking away from the canopy to meet Joyful Tears’ eyes. “Yes, I’m fine.” He whispered, his lashes slightly damp with tears. He could not help but feel embarrassed and self conscious. She had been with countless others over the years, others that were probably more handsome and better than he was. Joyful Tears stroked his cheek; he lowered his eyes shamefully. She laid back down and sighed against his ear.

“You were fine.”

Roach felt his cheeks grow hot. “Thank you, Mother.”

“You should go.”

He didn’t know what to say.

“Go,” She continued softly, settling back down under the sheets. She turned onto her side, her back to Roach, who was watching her with a mixture of hurt and concern.

“Did I do something wrong?” He whispered, sitting up and placing one hand down on the mattress to leaned over her in the hopes of catching a glimpse of her face. “Mother, I-” He stopped abruptly for Joyful Tears had, in a single fluid motion, pushed herself into a sitting position and whipped her delicate hand around, striking Roach across the face so hard that he fell down onto the bed.

Roach trembled, bringing one shaking hand to his face to touch his stinging cheek, feeling a little blood trickling down from where one of Joyful Tears’ nails had cut him. He pushed himself up and scrambled off of the bed, stumbling over his robes as he staggered backwards. Joyful Tears’ face was streaked with tears and she was turning away from him, offering him her back again as she settled back down on the bed.

Roach stared at her bare back in shock before timidly crouching and gathering his robes. He draped them haphazardly over his shaking, sore body and wearily walked through the doors, glancing back over his shoulder once before closing the door softly behind of him.

For a moment, he lingered just outside of the doors then he turned and began to slowly trudge down the long, dark hallway toward his and Precious’ chamber. He had taken only a few steps before the emotions within him crashed together all at once. He felt waves of pain and disappointment and shame. He only had one purpose in life and he had blown it somehow. His legs shook as a cry tore from his throat and he broke into a run.

The robes fell away from him, and soon he was tearing down the long, narrow hallway naked with tears flowing in thick rivers down his face. He lifted one arm and buried his face in the crook of his arm, lowering his head down as he ran. He ran and ran until he crashed into the door of his room, his elbow cracking against the sturdy wood of the door. Crying out in agony and frustration, the boy dropped down to his knees in front of door and wept.

Amid his violent sobs, he vaguely heard the sound of the door opening and footsteps. Suddenly there was a gentle arm circling about his back and a hand cradling the back of his head, stroking back his tousled hair. A damp cheek pressed against his temple, and Roach jerked the other closer, throwing his arms around the boy and grabbing handfuls of the fabric of the younger boy’s pajama shirt.

Precious lifted his own tear filled eyes, tightening his grip about the Drone in his arms as other Drones and Sons poked their heads from their doors to look out at the broken, sobbing boy. Precious narrowed his eyes and pulled free of Roach’s grip long enough to unbutton and shrug out of his shirt. He draped the shirt over Roach then pulled him back into his arms, cradling him against his chest like a child. The boys’ audience soon slipped quietly back into their own chambers, and Roach and Precious remained in their doorway until the first grey streaks of dawn pierced the darkness of the night.

Chapter Four Son

Precious sat on the side of Roach’s bed, his hand trailing through Roach’s dark brown hair gently as the elder boy slept. Precious’ hand paused, his fingers tangled in Roach’s hair, and he watched as the Drone’s eyes grew damp and a silent bead of moisture fell from his lashes to wet his cheek. Inhaling deeply, Precious closed his eyes and parted his lips, softly beginning to sing a lullaby he remembered from his childhood, all the while wondering what sort of dreams were bringing tears to Roach’s eyes.

“Its time, Roach.”

Roach felt tears running down his face as he opened his eyes, finding himself laying on a cool, metal table. His fingers trembled as he ran the tips of his fingers along the smooth surface he was resting on. Tilting his head wearily, he saw his own reflection staring back at him. In the reflection of the mirror, he saw concrete walls and a rat scurry into a crack in the corner. His eyes widened and he sat up sharply, his breath coming in painful gasps. Heart thudding against his chest, he twisted and pushed his feet roughly to the floor, staggering back against the cold, hard wall.

Outside he knew there were Drones and Sons watching him, shaking their heads or turning away in disgust. Roach heard the turn of the knob and watched in growing horror as Lovely stepped into the room with him carrying a syringe between his fingers. “I’m sorry it has to be this way, Roach.”

Roach shook his head, sobbing. “Its not my fault! I did my best, Lovely. I did my best.”
He felt Lovely’s hand move through his hair. “Just relax, my Son. This will be over soon. You won’t feel a thing.”

Roach fell against Lovely and sank against him, merely crying into the Drone’s shoulder as he felt the bite of the needle in his arm. Lovely’s hands were combing through his hair and rubbing his back. “Shh, go to sleep, Roach.”

Then, Roach knew only pain. He could feel the drugs tearing through his veins and his heart throbbing against his ribcage as it pumped the toxic fluids throughout his body. His legs buckled and his chest burned, but he found he couldn’t make a sound. He dropped to his knees on the damp floor, Lovely had been replaced by Joyful Tears, who glared down at him.

“This is your fault!” She snarled, pointing a thin finger toward the metal table which was now occupied by a peacefully sleeping baby. Roach looked up at the child briefly then down at his hands as boils began to form across his skin. The boils spread all over him, and his skin began to peel away and fall in clumps about his knees. “This is all your fault, Cockroach!”

“Keep me safe, Roach.” Now Precious was laying on the table; the child had vanished. “Don’t let the boogeymen get me, Roach…. Don’t let them get me.“ He paused as a serene expression softened his features. “If I must be put to sleep, Roach, will you be the one to do it?”

Roach screamed and flung his hands to his hair, still feeling Lovely’s hands combing through the tangled brown locks. Jerking violently away from the hands that reached for him, Roach fell from the bed onto the floor, crawling backwards on his hands and scraping the balls of his bare feet against the floor clumsily before his back hit the wall. “Its not my fault!”

“Roach?”

The Drone shuddered at his name, recognizing the voice as his Son, Precious. Choking back a sob, he looked around, finding not the dark chamber that he had expected, but his own room.

Warm sunlight was spilling in through the windows and Precious, very much alive and well, was kneeling in front of him. Roach brushed away his tears with the cuff of the shirt that Precious had draped about him the night before. “Its alright, Precious. Just a bad dream.”

“What happened that night, Roach?” Precious asked quietly.

It had been almost a month since the catastrophic events of Roach’s birthday, and Roach had still not told his Son anything about it. He felt too ashamed. Since that fateful night, the Drone had not been the same. He’d been losing weight and refusing to speak to anyone except for Precious, and even their conversations had become less and less frequent. Lately, much to Precious’ dismay, Roach had become content to stay bundled beneath the covers of his bed, drifting in and out of sleep.

Roach stood to his feet. “I wasn’t good enough for her.” He replied impassively, striding toward the doors. He grabbed the knob and twisted it, tugging it open. Precious started to follow, but Roach shook his head. “No, Precious. Stay here.”

“But, Roach…” The younger boy began weakly.

“Precious!” Roach snapped. “Just stay here and be quiet! I swear, Precious, if you follow me I’ll… I’ll kill you!” With that, he turned his back on his startled Son and ran.

The sun was dipping below the horizon when Precious heard the doorknob turn, and he stood up slowly, turning his wearied eyes to the door. Instead of Roach, Lovely stood in the doorway, his slender fingers still curved around the knob. “Good evening, Precious. I’m looking for Roach, is he here?”

Precious shook his head slowly, lowering himself back down into a sitting position on the side of the bed. “No, he’s not been here since this morning.”

“Do you know where he is, Precious?” Lovely’s brows furrowed. “Its important that I speak to him as soon as possible.”

“No, I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Lovely’s voice was now marked with concern. “Precious, he could be in trouble. Did he say anything to you that might tell us where he went?”

“He was upset… about what happened the night he mated, I think, but I have no idea where he went. Surely someone else has seen him today… it looks like a storm is coming. ” Precious added nervously as he heard the low roaring of distant thunder and saw dark clouds gathering on the horizon. Lovely glanced out of the window then looked back to Precious, shaking his head slowly.

“Precious, no one has seen him today. I’ve looked all over and he isn’t here. The only place we haven’t checked is the Morgue, and surely he wouldn’t go there.” Lovely paused, lowering his eyes then continued in a soft whisper. “Precious… Joyful Tears is pregnant. She’s pregnant with Roach’s child.”

Precious brought a trembling hand to his lips to stifle a shuddering gasp, lurching to his feet and dashing from the room, his shoulder pushing roughly against Lovely, causing the older male to stagger backwards and nearly loose his balance. Precious did not stop even as Lovely shouted his name behind of him. A jarring crack of thunder caused the building to shudder, and rain began to pour from the black sky as Precious stumbled into the rain, his bare feet squelching audibly in the rain water pooling in the grass.

The Morgue loomed like a black tombstone at the far end of the field where the colony stood.

Besides the Mothers’ mansion there was a large, flat building to the left of the mansion that was twice as big, though much more plain. It was made of brick and old, chipping mortar with a pair of massive metal doors at the entrance. This is where the Workers- infertile young women- and the other Drones would sleep and have their meals when they were not working. Beside the flat building was a large plot of land set aside for the colony’s garden. The Morgue stood at the edge of the field just in front of the wall of trees that extended into a dense forest. The forest surrounded the colony like a natural fence, and no one was allowed to enter it.

Precious slid to an unsteady stop a few steps from the mansion, lifting both hands to cup them about his lips and shout the name of his Drone. Lightning flashed overhead and the thunder drowned out his cry. His stomach churned and his heart began to pound against his ribcage. He called once more, spinning in a slow circle to take in the garden and the open section of the field before his eyes came to rest again on the Morgue.

His feet slid on the slippery, wet grass as he began to run again, the rain already causing his clothes to cling to him like a second skin. His hair became heavy and hung limp and soaked by his face; when he broke into a run, the saturated strands struck his face and plastered themselves across his nose and cheeks.

By the time he had reached the doors of the Morgue, Precious’ body had gone numb from the cold rain. He clumsily pushed open the heavy door and narrowed his eyes, trying to adjust to the sudden and complete darkness that lingered within the walls of the Morgue. He stuck out one hand, blindly feeling the wall for the switch to the lights that he knew were hovering above him like pale snakes. “Roach?” His fingers brushed over prickly, wet fur, and the boy gasped, jerking away as he heard the rat squeak in fear.

Giving up on the lights, Precious started inside, stretching out his arms searchingly like a blind man. His lips continuously formed the name of the Drone, but his voice had deserted him as he strained his ears to try to find even the slightest sound over the cracking of thunder and the sound of his feet and the feet of rats pattering across the damp floor.

Just as he was about to give up hope, lightning flashed into the sky, its light spilling briefly through the door and illuminating the dark room. Precious’ eyes widened as he saw the familiar form of Roach sitting inside of the Room on the metal table, a needle poised above his wrist. “Roach, stop!” His wet hands fumbled with the doorknob, and he half expected to find it locked. The door soon swung open, however, much to his delight, and he raced inside, stretching one hand for the syringe just as lightning flashed again.

The two boys fell onto the floor in a heap and the syringe slipped away from their hands and clattered across the floor. Roach shoved Precious away and sat up rigidly, grabbing a handful of Precious’ curling hair. He jerked Precious up into a sitting position and brought the younger boy’s face to his, shouting. “What are you doing, Precious?! I told you not to follow me!”

Roach shoved Precious into the wall, releasing his hair and curling his hand into a fist, driving it into Precious’ chest. Precious cried out as Roach’s fists were repeatedly hammered into his ribs and stomach. The older boy finally struck Precious across the face, sending the smaller boy to the floor. Precious laid still on the wet floor, his cheek pressed against a puddle of water that had formed from his wet clothing. Tears were spilling down his cheeks, adding to the moisture collecting around his face. “I couldn’t let you, Roach…”

“Let me what?!” Roach snarled, kicking Precious in the ribs. “Let me end my life? They’re going to kill me anyway! I couldn’t please her, Precious! She hated me!”

“You’re… you’re wrong.” Precious whimpered through a soft sob. “Lovely came…”

“You see?! He’s coming to tell me that they’re going to put me down!”

“Roach, please,” Precious begged weakly, painfully pushing himself to his knees. He tilted back his head to look up in Roach’s direction; their faces were fleetingly visible with the periodical bursts of light from the lightning crashing outside. “Roach, you have to listen to me. Lovely came to tell you that Joyful Tears is pregnant.”

There was silence except for the rumbling thunder.

“She’s pregnant, Roach,” Precious repeated.

Roach dropped to his knees, putting a trembling hand over his face. “And I almost…” He didn’t finish, and Precious warily reached toward him, pulling Roach into a gentle embrace as the dark skinned Drone began to softly cry.

“She’s pregnant, Roach,” He repeated, tears of his own staining his cheeks. “You’ll have a real child… a real son…”

Chapter Five Little One

The books were scattered about in the rubble that remained from the once proud building that had held them.

There were curling pieces of half melted, yellow plastic that had once been cards; ‘Library Card’ was written in drooping capital, blue letters on the fronts of the thin, rectangular cards. A great deal of the books were burnt beyond recognition, their pages so brittle that the slightest touch would cause them to crumble into thick ashes.

Large bricks that had once made up the library’s proud walls were piled in various places around the books. Grass and wildflowers grew around the bricks and between the scattered, burnt and crumpled pages.

Roach was sprawled on the soft spring grass among the tall, swaying daises; a few of the more intact books were stacked neatly by his shoulder, the breeze toying with the old, crackling pages.Roach’s thin fingers were gently bending the emerald stem of one of the pale daises, lowering the white blossom to his face to take in the flower’s soothing fragrance.

The pale clouds had receded, leaving only clear blue sky in their wake. The sun was bright and its golden rays fell down onto Roach’s bare skin, drying him with their warmth. His robe was draped over a group of bricks that were still stacked together; it was all that remained of one of the library’s walls.

He and Precious had gone to the edge of the colony’s grounds to a small pond at the tree line; behind the pond the forest spread out like a vast and endless sea of trees. They had stripped down and swam in the cold water until they were visibly shivering and their teeth chattering.

Roach tilted his head, releasing the flower, and rested his hand on his bare chest as he watched Precious wander naked through the carcasses of books. The other boy sank into a crouch and lifted a badly burnt blue book, cradling its broken spine in one palm while his other hand delicately leafed through the pages.

The sun was glistening off the water on the younger boy’s pale skin so that he seemed otherworldly; the flowers were swaying and softly brushing their outstretched petals against his legs and ankles. Roach sighed softly as Precious’ blue eyes briefly lifted to meet his gaze. A smile turned up the pale boy’s lips, and Roach thought to himself that even the angels above would be shamed by Precious’ childish beauty.

The blue eyes lowered back to the book, and the full lips parted in speech.“See Jane. See Dick. See Jane run. See them run,” He paused; some of the words were too smeared or burnt to make out. “Run, Run… Help…” His voice was soft and deep, having recently changed from the more juvenile voice he had had when Roach had first met him.

The passage that the angelic boy had read, however, seemed out of place and eerie in the calm, bright afternoon.Precious turned the page and was about to continue, when he turned and looked over his shoulder in the direction of the colony.

Roach, who had been on the verge of dozing, yawned and sat up, bringing his knees to his chest. He stretched out his arms and rested them on his knees, placing his chin on one of his arms so that he might see what was distracting Precious from the strange book.“Precious, hello. Is Roach with you?”

Roach frowned at the strange voice and sat straighter, stretching out one arm to pull his robes from the pile of bricks. Sleepily, he tugged on his robes and started toward Precious, gathering the other boy’s robes before stepping up behind of him.

Precious was quietly talking to a young man, whom Roach recognized as the Drone named Darling. As Roach draped Precious’ robes around the younger boy’s pale, glistening body, Darling turned his attention to Roach and placed one of his hands to his chest in relief.

“There you are, Roach. I was afraid you had run off again. Your Son here,” Darling’s eyes narrowed as they moved to Precious, who was leaning his back against Roach’s chest. “Wouldn’t tell me where you were.”

Roach draped his dark arms around Precious’ neck loosely and smirked, whispering into Precious’ ear. “Thank you.” To Darling, he added. “What could be so important that you have to interrupt us on Precious’ birthday?”

As he said it, Roach shook his head; it was hard to believe that he was now seventeen and little Precious fifteen, just a year away from his first mating.Darling rolled his green eyes and placed his hands on his sharp hips. “Yes, its very important actually, Cockroach.” The name dripped maliciously through the Drone’s lips like venom from a snake’s fangs. Precious felt Roach stiffen and lifted his pale hands to press them against Roach’s dark arms.

“Just get on with it, Darling.”

“There’s something wrong with Little One.”

The words struck Roach like a blow to the stomach, and he slowly released Precious to step around the Son toward the speaking Drone. Little One was Roach’s and Joyful Tears’ child; the child that had been conceived on Roach’s birthday during that awkward first mating. Little One was several months old now, though she was still very, very small. The Workers who had helped Joyful Tears’ with the birthing had had to keep a close eye on the tiny child; they had been afraid she would not survive that first night.

Roach had been terribly worried about her and longed to see his daughter, but according to the rules laid down by Joyful Tears when the colony was started, he, as a Drone, was not allowed to see her.

To ease Roach’s mind, Precious had made frequent visits to the nursery where Little One was kept under the watchful eyes of the Workers and the Great Mother. According to Precious, Little One was doing well, and they believed she would be alright after all.

“What’s wrong with her?” Roach asked, startled by how unsteady his voice sounded.

“I can’t say for sure. I’m just the messenger. I was told to bring you back with me.” Darling shrugged and turned his back to Roach, continuing over his shoulder. “I think its serious.”

Roach pushed Darling aside and dashed across the field with Precious at his heels. Their robes billowed around them like red and gold wings. “What’s wrong with her?”Roach lifted the quiet child into his arms and cradled her against his chest; his gloved hand brushing over her flushed cheek.

There were ugly red bumps dotting her mocha complexion, and as Roach lifted the layers of blankets she was wrapped in, he saw that the marks covered her entire body. A small mask was covering his nose and mouth to keep him protected should the disease be catching. Roach was sitting on a wooden rocking chair in the nursery and Precious was reclining at his feet, his ungloved fingers toying with the baby’s toes, which were peeking out from beneath the folds of fabric.

A Worker, Tranquility, was standing by them, her brown eyes focused on the baby in Roach’s arms. “We think that its called chicken pox. It is a childhood disease from the City.”

“Is she going to be alright?”

Tranquility nodded, “Yes, of course. In a few weeks, I think she’ll be just fine.” She reached for the child hesitantly.

Precious looked first at her outstretched hands then shot a fierce glare toward the Worker. Lifting his own hand he made to push the woman’s hands away from Little One, but Roach shook his head.“Its alright, Precious.”

He murmured absently as he looked down at his daughter’s face, trying to imagine what she looked like without the terrible marks marring her flesh. “I’m just a Drone… I understand that. I can’t stay here as much as I’d like to.”

When he and Precious were back in their chamber, Precious lowered himself down onto his mattress. “Its not fair.”

Roach stepped over Precious and got into his own bed, tugging the covers to his chin. “What’s not fair, Precious?”

“Its not fair that you can’t be with your own child.”

Roach’s eyes widened. “That’s… that’s just the way things are, Precious.” He stammered.

“But what if something were to happen to her?” Precious sat up and moved to sit down on the side of Roach’s bed. “What if she died? Or her condition became worse? You’d never know! Why should the Mothers be the only ones to see them? The child is as much the Drone’s as it is the Mother’s!”

“Precious, that’s enough!” Roach’s eyes grew wide and he quickly sat up as he spoke; the words spilled in a nervous rush, slurring together. “What you’re speaking… its blasphemy!”

A shuddering sigh spilled through Precious’ lips, and he stood, walking over his mattress to the window. “And who gets to decide that it is blasphemy, Roach? The Mothers. Who gets to decide anything in this colony? Just the Mothers. I read in one of the books from the library that men used to be the rulers. That men like us controlled women. We would take one of them to be ours and mate for life, and raise a family with just that one woman.”

“Precious! Stop! You can’t talk like that. If someone heard you, you could be executed.” Roach hissed.

Precious glanced at Roach over his shoulder.“And who gets to decide if I am to be killed or not?”Roach cringed and looked away.“Who, Roach?”

Roach put his hands over his ears, keeping his eyes on the sheets laying across his chest. He didn’t want to hear the accusation in Precious’ voice, and he couldn’t handle the pain he knew laid in the younger boy’s blue eyes.“Who decides whether I live or die, Roach!?” Precious cried so that Roach even with his hands covering his ears could hear him. Roach sat up sharply and lowered his hands, curling his fingers into fists and bringing them down sharply onto his lap as he turned to shoot a glare toward Precious.

“I DO!”

“So are you going to kill me for thinking for myself is that it?!” Precious snapped back.

“Precious, listen to yourself! You’re questioning our way of life! The colony’s lived like this for years and you just want to change it all?! That kind of thinking is the reason there were wars and fights in the City!”

“I’m just trying to understand why things have to be this way! Why are Drones so mistreated?! If a woman is infertile she simply works for the Mothers, but if a male is sterile we are killed! Why, Roach? We are more than just tools for procreation!”

“Precious, stop it now or…”

“Or what, Cockroach?!” Precious snarled, his eyes flashing indignantly.

Roach fell quiet, his eyes wide and his fingers uncurled from fists and resting against his lap limply. Precious had never spoken to him this way, and he had never called Roach by his full name. “Are you going to kill me, Cockroach?” And with that, the angelic boy turned and stormed from the room, leaving Roach alone amid the limp, cold sheets of his bed.

Chapter Six Joyful Tears

“Mother, this is more serious than we thought.”

Joyful Tears reclined on the soft, swaying grass at the back of the mansion. Her long hair had been tugged neatly into thick braid that fell over her bare shoulder. She closed her eyes, leaning her back against the chest of the Drone she had mated with the previous night. The Drone, who was called Sun, and Joyful Tears had come out during the quiet hours of the morning after their lovely night of mating; Joyful Tears had hoped to get some alone time with Sun, whom she had grown quite fond of as of late.

Sun draped his coppery arms around her waist and leaned his chin against the top of Joyful Tears’ head. She glanced up at the Worker standing in front of them. “I told you I didn’t want to be disturbed, Summer.”

“This is important, Mother.” Summer pressed, keeping her brown eyes focused on her own bare feet. “Its about Little One, your daughter.”

“What about her?” Joyful Tears arched a delicate brow; Sun sat up straighter, lifting his chin from Joyful Tears’ head. Summer shifted uncomfortably and inhaled slowly before quietly continuing.

“Her disease, we were wrong. It isn’t what the City dwellers called chicken pox. Its something we’ve never seen before… something that isn’t recorded in any of the City journals or histories.”

“What do you mean? Has she become worse?”

“Yes.” After the barely audible word was spoken, the Worker continued in hushed tones, explaining the situation as best as she could.

Joyful Tears fell quiet when the girl had finished, and the Great Mother lapsed into thought. Little One had been nothing but trouble since day one. It had been a difficult birth, and the child Joyful Tears had to show for all of her struggles had been a scrawny little weakling. She would have had her exterminated right away if it hadn’t been for Precious, who had checked in daily with the Workers in the nursery then reported everything back to Cockroach.

Joyful Tears closed her eyes and forced a low sigh through her lips; her fists clenching in her lap.

Cockroach.

He was his mother’s son. She could see Laughter in every part of him and it sickened her. She had wanted to be the one to first mate with him simply because she wanted to be rough with him, wanted to give him everything then destroy him by filling him with doubt and fear that he would be terminated. She had felt sickened after their mating; and her feigned kindness had left her wearied. She had also hoped that after the night she had given him, after striking him and sending him away that he would have done the deed himself, but it had not come to pass. She had Precious to thank for that.

It was Cockroach’s fault that this child would probably destroy them all.

After she had first gotten ill, Joyful Tears had allowed the baby to be kept in the nursery with the rest of the children as Joyful Tears had been under the impression that the child’s illness was nothing terribly serious.
Now, now after several months without word, now they were telling her that they had been wrong?
She had grown suspicious when one of the Workers had come requesting that they move the child to the building where the lower Drones and the Workers lived to keep from contaminating the other children, but she had not expected anything this severe.

Summer’s words echoed ominously in Joyful Tears’ mind.

…just getting worse and worse… spreading to the Drones… causing them to become sterile…

“Why wasn’t I informed sooner that it had become this serious?”

“We thought,” The Worker stammered, taking a nervous step backwards. “We thought we could stop it. We didn’t know…”

Joyful Tears opened her eyes and looked up at the Worker, narrowing her eyes. “How many of the Drones are contaminated?”

“About half of our stock…”

Joyful Tears cursed. “Take those contaminated and that child to the Morgue… this calls for drastic action. If they question you, tell them that they are simply being quarantined until we can come up with some kind of cure.”

“Yes, Mother.”

When the girl had disappeared from their sight, Joyful Tears rose to her feet, casually brushing the clinging blades of grass from her robes before turning toward Sun, who had stood to his feet behind her. “Sun, gather the Drones within the mansion and take them to the Armory. There are not enough of the drugs to kill all of those contaminated; we will have to use the guns. Arm them then meet me at the Morgue as soon as the sun goes down.”

Chapter Seven Exterminators

“Roach, wake up.”

Roach turned over on his bed, scooting down beneath the covers so that they draped over his face. “What do you want?” he grumbled, still lingering in a hazy dream between slumber and wakefulness. He heard a pitiful sniff then the quiet pattering of tears as they struck the floor. Soon the salty liquid was dropping against his cheeks.

“Roach, please?”

The voice registered then, and Roach was instantly awake and flinging the covers back. “Precious?!”

The weeping angel shied away from the bed even as Roach reached for him; the older boy’s expression grew pained, and tears rose to his own eyes. “Precious, where have you been? I haven’t seen you since… I was afraid you had…” He stopped, unable to give voice to the fears that had haunted his dreams since Precious had vanished the night of their disagreement.

“I was staying with the Drones and the Workers in the other building.” Precious explained, keeping his eyes down.

“Oh… but, you could have at least told me… its been months.”

Precious fell quiet and lifted one of his delicate hands to push his fingers through his blonde hair, his blue eyes still glistening with unreleased tears. Roach sighed and, swinging his legs over the side of the bed to sit facing his friend, he clasped his hands together in his lap. “What’s wrong, Precious? Talk to me, please? Why are you crying?”

Precious did not answer. His eyes fell downcast and his hair fell in front of his face like a flaxen curtain, swaying gently as he shifted his weight uncomfortably. His lips parted and a weak sob slipped between them before his shoulders began to shudder and his hands lifted to cover his face. Roach rose from the bed and stepped over Precious’ cold mattress, reaching again for his friend. Precious jerked back and fell against the wall, shaking his head. “Don’t touch me!”

“Why are you being this way, Precious? If I can’t even touch you then why did you come back?!” Roach yelled, tears spilling down his dark cheeks. “Why, Precious?!”

The younger boy’s hands moved to the sash tied about his waist, holding closed his long, flowing navy blue robes. The fabric eased down his shoulders and slid over the crook of his arm, pooling by his feet as it released his trembling, pale form. Roach staggered back, lifting his arm and pressing the back of his wrist to his lips to stifle a sharp gasp.

Large sores covered Precious’ chest and arms; they were like massive blisters, oozing pus and watery blood. Red, infected skin was peeling away from the sores in strips, and as Precious lifted his head and brushed his hair completely from his face, Roach could see that the sores were beginning to spread up his throat and jaw line toward his left eye.

Roach shook his head weakly and slowly lowered his arm, stretching his hand toward his friend hesitantly. Precious shivered and swallowed hard as he felt Roach’s fingers brush against his fevered brow. “They’re going to kill me, Roach.”

Roach shook his head and pulled his hand away, kneeling down to pick up Precious’ robes and drape them over the boy’s shoulders again, folding the fabric across his red and blood chest before loosely tying the sash. “They won’t kill you, Precious. Why would you say such a thing? We can take you to the Workers, they can help you…”

"You don’t understand, Roach.” Precious whispered. There was a moment of silence before Precious began again. “Roach, do you remember Little One?”

“Of course I do.” Roach muttered guiltily; in reality he had almost forgotten his little daughter. He hadn’t seen her since that time in the nursery after she had become ill. She must be getting close to a year old now, he thought to himself. Thoughts and worries for Little One had been replaced by thoughts and worries for Precious during the boy’s absence.

“The disease she had… it isn’t chicken pox. They don’t know what it is, but it became so bad that they took her out of the nursery. They were afraid she would ‘contaminate’ their new generation or something. So they put her in the chamber with the lower Drones, their Sons, and Workers, and it spread. Its affecting the Drones and Sons the most. As the disease progresses… Roach, it makes us sterile.”

Roach’s eyes grew wide and he stumbled backwards over Precious’ mattress, sinking down heavily onto the side of his bed. “Surely yours isn’t that advanced yet, is it? They must have a cure, some medicine that can stop it from advancing… right?”

“There is no medicine for it, no cure, Roach. They… they’re taking all of those people who are infected to the Morgue now. They say they’re just going to quarantine us until they can come up with something, but its not true, Roach, I know they’re just taking us down there to kill us all!” Precious was sobbing now; his thin shoulder violently shaking and his chest heaving as tears cascaded down his face tainted a faint yellow and red as they ran across the sores.

Roach stood again and pulled the boy close, holding Precious firmly against his chest. Roach closed his eyes and took a deep breath, resting his forehead against Precious’. “Precious, I swear, I’ll die before I let anyone kill you.”

“You can’t promise that,” Precious whimpered, clinging to the back of Roach’s robes.

“Just,” Roach bit his lower lip and pulled away carefully from Precious, touching the other boy’s cheek with his hand. “Just wait here. I’ll go talk to Joyful Tears. There’s got to be some mistake. They can’t just kill everyone.”

“You’re naïve, Roach.” Precious whispered as he slowly moved to the window and watched as a row of Drones were marched down to the hill to the Morgue. “You’re blind; you can’t see what’s right in front of you. To them… to them we are nothing more than pests that must be exterminated.”

“Precious…”

“I told you, Roach. I told you this long ago. Who gets to decide who lives and who dies?”

Roach stiffened, swallowing hard as he crossed the room and pulled open the door. “Just stay here, Precious. Everything will be fine, you’ll see.”

When he stepped out of the room into the hall, Roach was immediately immersed in a flood of the higher Drones that lived in the mansion like himself. He struggled to break through the current that was pulling him in the opposition direction of Joyful Tears’ chamber, but to no avail. Falling into step with the other confused Drones, he took the wrist of the boy next to him. “What is going on? Where is everyone going?” He questioned as the group stepped outside and started down the hill.

The Drone looked up at Roach with a raised brow. “Haven’t you heard? Some kind of plague has broken out. Sun brought us a direct order from the Great Mother herself, we are to meet him in a place called the Armory and we will get our instructions there.”

“What is an Armory?” Roach questioned, releasing the Drone’s wrist as a frown turned down the other boy’s lips. He shook his head, his shoulder length, straight blonde hair dancing in front of his stormy blue eyes.

“I’m not sure; none of the other Drones I’ve asked know anything about it”

“What’s your name?”

“Cherry Toes. And yours?”

“Cockroach, but… I prefer just ‘Roach.’ ”

Cherry Toes winced. “Roach? Why would anyone name their child that?”

Roach straightened. “Why would someone name their child ‘Cherry Toes?’ ”

Cherry Toes pointed a slender finger down toward his feet, wriggling his red, bare toes as he walked. “Because for some reason my toes sometimes turn red. They were very red when I was born. What about your name?”

Roach never got the chance to explain, for by that time he, Cherry Toes, and the rest of the Drones had been pushed into a small, cramped building behind of the Morgue. There were close to twenty Drones inside of the square, brick building; Roach and Cherry Toes were near the center of the group and Roach recognized the tall, dark skinned Drone standing at the front of them on a low platform as Sun, the Drone that had was slowly becoming Joyful Tears’ favorite according to the rumors that Roach been hearing.

Cherry Toes idly smoothed down the front of his pastel pink robes, his elbows brushing against Roach’s arm. Roach glanced at the boy and was about to speak again, but was silenced as Sun’s deep, booming voice shattered the heavy silence. “The Great Mother has asked me to bring you here under terrible circumstances. The sickness has spread throughout the other building where the lesser Drones and the Workers reside. To preserve our colony, our way of life, those infected have been taken to the Morgue for immediate termination.”

Roach stiffened, his eyes widening so that his irises were small black pools in a sea of white. “Precious.” The name staggered from his lips and collapsed onto the floor like a living thing; though Roach did not see with his own eyes, he knew then that Precious, at this moment, had been found and was being taken down the steep hill to his doom.

Cherry Toes tilted his head, his blue-grey eyes turning to Roach in confusion. “What?”

“My… Son,” Roach choked out as he felt tears gathering in his eyes. “My Son is infected…” He shook his head and tilted it back, his brown hair spilling over his face as he cried loudly. “Are the Mothers not even going to try to help them?”

Sun narrowed his eyes, folding his muscular arms over his bare chest. “They have done everything they could, Drone. Now be quiet.”

“They have done NOTHING!” Roach countered, clenching his hands into tight fists.

“SILENCE!” The Drone’s voice erupted like thunder through the small room, and Roach lowered his head, tears silently working their way over his high cheekbones and curling beneath his jaw.

Sun huffed then dropped down to sit on the edge of the platform, glancing over his wide shoulder toward the piles of boxes stacked behind of the platform he rested upon. A few of the older Drones, one of which Roach recognized as Lovely, began to open the boxes and pull out thin metallic tube-like devices; devices that Roach had seen only once before. “These,” Sun began as he took one of the devices from Lovely. “Are called guns. They are weapons. You may recall being taught how to use them when you were Sons. We had hoped you would never have to use them, but the time has come. You will each get a gun, and you will all go down with me to the Morgue, and we will put an end to this.”

Chapter Eight Run

The Contaminated were positioned in a straight line from the left wall to the right wall; they were in rows with their backs turned toward the door.

The rows went to the end of the main room so that some of the sick Drones and Sons were pressed painfully against the glass wall that looked in on the Room. Roach and the other Exterminators as Sun had called them, were standing at the front of the main room, just inside of the doors. Roach was in the first row of Exterminators, Cherry Toes was at his side, constantly glancing up to look at Roach in concern and sympathy. They all had bulky gas masks pulled down over their faces to ensure that they too would not contract the illness; they had been told that the first row would fire first then kneel so that the row behind them could shoot the next row of the Contaminated and so on .

Joyful Tears was standing in the space between the Exterminators and the Contaminated. She met Roach’s gaze and beckoned him forward with two fingers. “Cockroach.” She began, her voice low and menacing. “Cockroach, you shall make the first kill as you are the one to blame for this disaster.” She stretched out one hand and grabbed the upper arm of one of the Contaminated and jerked him forward, wheeling him around to face Roach.“Precious?!”

The Drone nearly dropped his weapon in surprise.Precious was cradling Roach’s small daughter against his scarred and bloody chest; his eyes were wide and frightened and his lips just barely parted as if he had been about to speak. Roach shifted his gun to one hand and pressed the palm of his other hand to the edge of the mask, forcing the heavy piece of equipment over his head to let it fall loudly to the floor. “Precious, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you.”Precious offered Roach a wearied smile, pressing his chapped lips against Little One’s forehead.

“Its alright, Roach. I knew this day would come. You are here to kill me.”

Roach looked to Joyful Tears, his eyes narrowed. “I will not do this. Its wrong!” He cried, glancing back toward the other Exterminators. “They just want us to shoot them down in cold blood? They’re living creatures! They can’t help that they’re sick!” He turned back to Joyful Noise. “And perhaps if the Mothers would spend more time trying to help them than mating with common filth.” He shot a look at Sun then trained his cold gaze back onto the Great Mother. “Maybe there wouldn’t be so many that are ill…”

“You wretched boy!” Joyful Tears snatched Little One from Precious’ grasp and dangled the baby in front of Roach’s face by its small arm. “This is your fault!” She screamed, giving the now sobbing child a shake. “This is all your fault, Cockroach! Because of you and this thing our colony is going to die!” And with that, she tossed the child to the floor.

Little One skidded across the damp floor and came to rest against the wall. Precious’ eyes widened and he cried out the small girl’s name as he lurched forward to go to her still form. Joyful Tears grabbed a handful of his hair and forced him back into line. “Enough!” She glared at Roach and stepped away, standing beside of Little One’s motionless form. “Get back in line, Roach…”

Roach was frozen where he stood, his hands still clutching the gun and his dark eyes fixated on the tiny body at the Great Mother’s feet. As if from a great distance, he heard Sun shouting orders to the Exterminators behind of him. Their guns lifted, their fingers resting against the triggers. Roach lifted his own gun numbly, the twin barrels brushing against the back of Precious’ head.

Precious stiffened, soft sobs issuing from between his parted, trembling lips.Time seemed to slow to a crawl as Roach turned his eyes toward Sun’s towering figure. Sun’s lips were forming the command to fire, but before the word was completed, Roach had swung his gun around and jerked his finger against the trigger. There was an explosion of sound and time began to flow at its normal pace. Sun dropped heavily to the ground, blood spurting from the gaping hole in the middle of his forehead. Joyful Tears began to scream for the other Exterminators to shoot at Roach, pointing one long nailed finger toward her nephew lividly. Roach stepped forward and pulled Precious from the line, pulling the sobbing boy to his chest.

“Run, all of you!” He cried over his shoulder to the Contaminated. They burst into movement as if they were one being; they twisted violently to face their would-be executioners, slipped and scrambled forward, and the lines collided. Guns exploded and bodies collapsed to the floor. Somehow, Roach with Precious still protectively pressed against his chest, pushed through the Exterminators and the struggling Contaminated. He stumbled outside, his gun dangling from one hand at his side.

“Come on, run!” He cried to the others in the building as he burst into movement once again, making for the dark forest that marked the colony’s borders.As he wove between the labyrinth of protruding roots and thick trunks of the dark trees, Roach could hear the rustling of fabric and the slapping of bare feet against the forest floor. Turning to look over his shoulder, Roach saw that he was being followed. His chest tightened with fear, and he started to run faster, half dragging Precious at his side until he saw that his pursuers were not armed.Roach slowed to a stop, panting raggedly and clinging tightly to Precious, whose sobs had quieted to weak sniffs and coughs.

The small band of followers were stumbling drunkenly over the roots and scraping against the trunks of trees in their exhaustion from the frantic flight. The foremost of the pitiful creatures was clothed in a blood splattered, pastel pink robe. Roach’s eyes widened as they all reached him.“Cherry Toes… I don’t understand.”

Cherry Toes glanced back to the few of the Contaminated that had escaped then faced Roach, pulling down the front of his pale colored robes. Three fresh red welts marked the chalky white skin of his chest. Cherry Toes swallowed hard and lowered his hands to his sides. “You were right, Roach… we all believe in you. We want to live…”

Roach nodded, leaning his head wearily against Precious’. “Come on, we need to move just a little further into the forest to make sure they don’t follow us.”The Contaminated nodded, and Roach turned his back to them, trudging onward through the trees as Precious softly intoned.“Run… See them… run…”

Chapter Nine Names

It was dark.

The canopy of swaying leaves hanging above them blotted out the sky so that only tiny shards of the moon’s light were able to pierce the almost tangible darkness hovering between the trees. Together, they were seven. Roach was sitting on a thick root with Precious reclining against him; the younger boy’s face was buried into Roach’s chest. Cherry Toes was sitting at Roach’s feet, his legs drawn up beneath him. There were two runaways beneath each of Cherry Toes’ arms: a tall, lean dark skinned boy with soft, kinky black hair that spread about his smooth, handsome face like a dark halo; and a much shorter pale boy with shoulder length, blonde hair and round, chocolate colored eyes. There was a muscular young man with long black hair lying on his back just in front of Roach’s feet; and the last of their small group was a tanned boy with a shaved head.

Roach released a wearied sigh and glanced down to Cherry Toes idly. “Since we are all going to be together, we should learn each other’s names. I’m Roach, this is my Son, Precious.” He whispered, stroking back Precious’ blonde hair.

“I am Cherry Toes.“ Cherry Toes nodded and glanced at the two boys beneath his arms.

The dark skinned boy was next. “I am Prince.”

The short blonde boy timidly spoke. “I am Early.”

“Mourning.” The black haired young man, who was lying at Roach’s feet, grumbled.

“I’m Spider.” The boy with the shaved head laid down beside of Mourning.

Roach furrowed his brows a little. “Why were you named ‘Spider?’ ”

Spider closed his eyes with a half smile. “When I was born, the Worker who delivered me put me into my Mother’s arms, and just before she spoke the name she had intended for me, a black spider dropped down onto my blankets. My mother was so frightened that she cried out, ‘Spider!.’ And so it became my name.”

Early giggled quietly, his brown eyes growing a little watery as a smile lit up his face. Cherry Toes smiled wearily and leaned his head against Early’s while his hand was toying with the tight curls of Prince’s hair. Roach yawned and lifted his hand from the back of Precious’ head, rubbing his eyes wearily. He was exhausted, but knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing that the rest of the colony were probably thinking of ways to destroy them. “Early?”

The boy lifted his brown eyes. “Yes?”

“Are you one of the Contaminated?”

Early shifted in Cherry Toes’ arms and tugged apart the folds of his blood splattered robes, showing the peeling and decaying skin covering his chest. Roach flinched.

“How old are you, Early?”

“Fourteen,” He whispered, seeming suddenly very tired. “I’m Prince’s Son; he’s nineteen.”

Prince offered the younger boy a small smile, but even this slight movement caused a twinge of pain to narrow his eyes. The sores already covered his neck and were advancing up the side of his face. Early closed his eyes and yawned before continuing. “Prince was one of the first few to be contaminated. A friend of his… what was his name, Prince?”

“Oh, you mean Squint?” Prince muttered, his brows furrowing thoughtfully.

“Yes! Squint. Squint was the first one to get the illness. He got it right after the baby was brought out. The sores spread over his whole body and he started to hallu… hallu..”

“Hallucinate.” Prince finished mechanically.

“Yeah! Hallucinate, and started seeing worms and bugs that weren’t really there. Then he got a really bad fever, and the sores infected his eyes and he went blind. He died not long after that; that’s when we all started getting it.” Early shivered. “When Prince got it, I tried to tell the Mothers to see if there was anything we could do, but they didn’t help me. They just told me to leave before I contaminated them.”

“We should have seen it coming,” Mourning concluded, shaking his head. “It started with the infertile; just because a man couldn’t have children he was put down… murdered. We’re nothing but tools for them, and when we break we’re thrown away and forgotten about.”

Roach’s eyes widened as he looked down at Mourning. Roach had thought he had recognized the boy’s long hair and hard features, and now he was certain. “Mourning! Bright Eyes was your Son!”

Mourning lurched upward into a sitting position, looking at Roach with wide eyes. “You… how do you know about Bright Eyes?” His voice was strained.

“I was there when you put-” Roach stopped and lowered his eyes, suddenly wishing he hadn’t brought it up. “I’m sorry.”

Mourning’s shoulders slumped, and he bent one knee, placing his face in the palm of one hand. “I thought I recognized you.” He paused, releasing a soft sigh then nodded, looking up again into Roach’s eyes. “That was the worst mistake of my life, putting Bright Eyes down. Bright Eyes was the best friend I had ever had; we were like brothers. As close as you and your Son there.” He nodded to Precious, who had fallen into a light sleep against Roach’s chest. “I should have said ‘no’ like you did, Roach. I shouldn’t have killed my Son.”

There was something in the tone of Mourning’s voice; Roach tilted his head, having never heard someone besides Precious speak to him that way. It was admiration. Mourning actually admired Roach for standing up for his Son. Roach squirmed a little, feeling embarrassed, and lowered his eyes. “We all should try to sleep. We’ll have to move deeper into the forest tomorrow and try to find some shelter.”

Spider nodded, “We should have someone keep watch.”

“I’ll do it tonight.” Mourning said, moving to sit on the root beside of Roach.

“Are you sure?” Roach questioned as he started to step off the root, careful not to disturb Precious; he had been about to volunteer for the job. He felt responsible for his small group.

Mourning nodded. “Very sure. You should get some sleep.”

Roach smiled and nodded, laying down with Precious still in his arms on the grass beside of Spider. Cherry Toes scooted close to them, bringing Early and Prince with him. They all laid down together in a heap, falling to sleep beneath the shadows of the trees.