Part 1: Chapter 1
A boy without shoes
It was cold. Far colder than the usual mid-summer morning. Red dust swirled around his feet, snapped at his toes and made his joints stiff. He had a purpose though. Single-mindedly he put one foot in front of the other, pushing forward with a presence and awareness that far exceeded his young mind. His eyes held no joy, his lips could no longer form a smile, in his soul resided a bitter and cynical old man. Many travelled alone in these times, although not many kept to the roads. Now and then he passed people that were coming the other way, none that gave him as much as a glance or a second of concern. They had their own problems, sorrows, traumas. A child traveling alone was not unusual in any way, nor was it a threat or anything to worry about. Not even a child carrying a .223 caliber. Just another armed pup with a dirty face, ragged clothes, and bare feet.
Everything was quiet now that the screams had faded away. Not even a lingering moan or sob remained. Except for a faint dripping the silence dominated the building. He turned his attention to the source of the noise, towards the marble staircase, towards a red river dividing into tiny waterfalls. Slowly, as if time itself held its breath as he looked around the hall. So many symbols now mere objects, so many souls now nothing more than empty shells, people reduced to flesh and fluids. Fluids that stuck to his bare feet. A red that snapped at his toes and made his joints stiff. He detached the clip. Only one round left. A single cross between him and purgatory. He removed the round and held it up into the rays of the rising sun. It was his totem, his sanguine oath. This was not the end. It was one single round for a boy without shoes.