Sixty-one

I've already seen the underbelly of Kush District, but in the day light is absolutely magnificent. I expected the air to reek of desolation and misery but, Kush is not even close to any of that.

Nature paints a picture of vibrant colours making full use of its palette. There are trees in bloom, plants with foliage so big that one could climb on it. I had a vague idea of its beauty but seeing it with my own eyes it's a whole different matter.

Nature dwarfs the buildings, imposing, majestic, and beautiful in all its splendour. Although Perdova is inhabited by humans, their impact is minimal and so is the population. It is not teeming with people, the buildings are set far apart from each other. But their clothing matches the vivacious colouring of the surrounding nature. A sea of colours.

The jar in my hands vibrates with an angry rumble, and I'm snapped out of my reverie, quite rudely I might add.

" Shut it," I shake the jar and begin my search for a shop, of any kind. I need an urn or something of the sort.

People give me a wide berth when they see my bloody, shredded clothes, and curious looks.

I smile and wave, trying to be as friendly as someone who looks like they've committed murder could be and carry on my search.

The streets are fairly clean, aside from the weeds that creep out of the cracks. I know for a fact that it is not neglect, it's just the high concentration of nitrogen in the ground that makes the plants grow at a fast rate, making their upkeep difficult.

The buildings are covered in foliage, but some of them are clear of it. I can imagine that keeping these buildings weed-free must cost a fortune.

I walk trying to keep my eyes peeled, but at the same time, small details catch my eye. Some of these buildings look abandoned, hence the scarcity of inhabitants. I knew Kush was small but by the looks of it, nature is pushing them out.

A wall rises at the horizon, almost blocking out the setting sun, and I know I've reached the city limits, and there is no shop in sight.

On the other side of the street, a couple walks hand in hand, and I decide to ask them the burning question.

I take off towards them in a slow jog, seeing that there is virtually no traffic.

Their eyes widen when they see me approach and pick up their pace.

" Excuse me," I say as I follow, and they bolt without even looking back. They turn around the corner and disappear in an alley.

"Madame," A raspy voice says behind me, and I flinch. Shit.

Slowly, I turn and take in the deep green uniform with red lapels, embroidered with black thread. I notice the hat hard hat sitting on his head and stare at his status.

" Officer," I smile coyly at him, trying to look as innocent as a lamb.

" Miss," He clears his throat and pulls out the handcuffs from his belt and gun in the other. Crap.

" You're are under arrest," He says calmly," Place the weapon on the ground, turn around and raise your hands above your head," The cuffs rattled in his hands as he gestured me to turn around.

"It's a jar," I smile and shake the jar in front of him. Not my smartest move.

" And this is my blood," I point towards my bloodied, shredded clothes to show him the cuts, and my broken nose.

" Madame you are being arrested for robbery," The jar. The woman must've alerted the police.

" I only took a jar," I say pointedly.

"Trespassing. Breaking and entering, theft. All these are punishable offences, " He argues back.

With a deep sigh, and somewhat grateful that he hasn't thrown my ass on the floor and arrested me on the spot, and the fact that he is indulging me with this conversation, " I have to apologise, but I'm a bit busy right now. Raincheck ?" I ask hopefully while I gear up to disappear right in front of his eyes before my very windy friend breaks out of his prison.

He gives me a puzzled look while I focus on the very faint surge of power coursing through me. It's not a lot but it will have to do.

" Madame do as you're told," The officer says and gestures for me to turn around.

With a sigh, I do as he says, and turn around facing the street, and raise my hand in the air. I've never tried creating a pocket on an almost empty tank but desperate times call for desperate measures.

The handcuffs rattle behind me, and can hear him as he fumbles with his holster to put the gun away. Only police officers are allowed to own guns, because they are a relic of the old world, and there are few and far in-between.

Closing my eyes I focus on increasing the flow, with an urgency I've never experienced in my life and I know that this will become a matter where all the district will be involved. A fugitive criminal is not a small matter, and generally, crime is punished severely no matter how small it is.

When the officer takes a step forward, I do too, and so I slip into a pocket and out of his reach.

I find myself in a wasteland, with remnants of burned trees, the embers still glowing in the eerie breeze sweeping over the charred grounds. The overall air is sombre and thick with smoke, the dark sky looming above me, ominously, presaging danger.

" What is this place?" I ask out loud, hoping that my windy friend would provide some insight.

He growls," Our home," His disembodied voice echoes out of the jar.

I look around and see more of the same. Nothing but burnt-out land sparks flying all around us carried out by the winds, swirling over the ground. Heated air clings to my lungs and it feels more like a furnace than an open space.