Time is a strange entity.

While it never waits for you— no matter if you are lying in bed with a terminal illness or struggling to complete an exam before the bell— it is specific and favors the fortunate ones of us.

Hours pass in the back of this military-grade armed vehicle while Vera and I waste away, but elsewhere, I am sure a young child's precious minutes are being spent pouting over a less-than-perfect meal, a dropped ice cream cone, a broken toy. Time is cruel in this way; we all start with the same amount, but depending on where we are born or where we are deposited and the decisions we choose to make throughout our lives the years we are bestowed tick away like the fraying edges of a winter coat until finally we have none left.

For people like me, the threads of life are already stripped far beyond repair.

***

I wake with a start as one of the gruff soldiers tosses a new figure into the back of the van.

Sunlight is pouring through the grated windows on either side of the vehicle, casting a furious glow across the contents of the room. I can now see Vera and the rest of the cargo in full brightness, although I choose not to pay any more mind to the corpses resting against the wall.

My skin aches at its unfortunate reunion with solar radiation, the blisters speckled across it dancing with a new infectious fervor. I seethe, tearing my attention back to our new companion, who Vera is already skeptically eying from her nest atop the crates.

The newest recruit to our pitiful posse is, to my displeasure, another child. Her long, stringy blonde hair clings to her tear-streaked face in clumps as she sobs her way into the corner. When the two living soldiers thump back into the front seats of the van and jolt it into acceleration, the girl releases a bloodcurdling moan that might have belonged to a dying whale.

Vera's eyes shoot towards the sharpened blade peeking through the loops of my pants, and I shift away, indicating that I refuse to take part in her murderous behaviors despite how unbelievably annoying this kid is.

The nameless blonde child wipes her sticky hair away from her green eyes, revealing a bright red complexion and grisly scar running the length of her face. The whitish tissue originates just above the brow, trailing over her left eye and cutting jaggedly across her upper lip. She catches me looking and buries her face in her knees again, heaving and sniffling.

My gaze meets Vera's furious one, and I know what she's thinking: she already wants this girl dead. I shake my head vehemently, shooting the idea down before any major developments are made. We aren't killing a child. Absolutely not.

She grumbles, throwing her head back in exasperation. "Would you shut up already? You're making this worse for yourself."

The blonde girl peeks from behind her forearm, green eyes flicking across her surroundings as if considering her next move. The area around them is puffy and read with tears, but alight with the innocence and youth that have just been stripped from her. "Leave me alone," she mumbles.

I roll my eyes, crawling towards her on the balls of my feet. "Hey," I whisper, giving her a nudge. Vera stiffens, clearly unsettled by my lack of apprehension. "It's okay. We aren't going to hurt you."

Her head shoots up, tears glistening across her face as mucus dribbles down her chin. "W- What's happening?" she whines, terror clutching her trembling voice. "I didn't do anything, I p-promise-"

I place my hands firmly upon hers, hoping this is a reassuring gesture. I'm not sure if I am experiencing genuine sympathy or if this is all an effort to save Vera and I's eardrums-- either way, it seems to be working. The little girl sniffs, her wet face turned towards me now. "Shh, you're not in trouble. Can you tell me your name?"

I release her, revealing the extent of her figure. She has to be half my size. "A-Ana," she wheezes.

"How old are you, Ana?" I work gentleness into my tone to avoid another outburst.

"S-seb-ven."

I curse under my breath. She's younger than I thought, which doesn't help the situation.

The next thing I know, Vera has flown from her seat and now towers over Ana. "Seven?  Almost makes me feel guilty-"

"Stop." I step in front of Vera, warding her away from the child. "She's obviously harmless." We both glance at Ana simultaneously, who is now sucking her thumb and whimpering.

Vera mutters an obscenity and displays another one with her fingers before beginning to pace madly. I can't tell if she's just angry at me for defending a useless child or if she's legitimately concerned for her own safety with a new member to our voyage.

Then I remember something. "Ana, how are you only seven? Shouldn't you be at least twelve?" This was the standard age for Birthing-Center-born children to be released to the unforgiving landscape that is the Skin, although being dropped out here is so cruel it is often used as an alternative form of punishment for fugitives and insubordinates alike. But I doubted such a young child was capable of anything so nefarious that she deserved this kind of treatment.

She frowns, drawing her soggy thumb from her mouth. "I d-don't know."

"This is pointless," Vera shouts. "Let's just get rid of this thing and save ourselves the trouble. We're not going to get any more food than normal and with another mouth to feed, who knows how long we have left?"

"I said, stop." My strict demeanor seems to startle both girls. "Listen here, little miss pre-teen. If we're going to get out of this van we need to get on the same page first." I look pointedly at her, strangely assured by the now-familiar press of her knife against my thigh. I have the upper hand. "You and I may not be friends, but one thing is certain: nobody else dies until we're free, got it? I see this might be a difficult change for you, but now that I'm in possession of the only weapon here, I'm in charge. Unless, of course, you have a death wish," I quote her mockingly.

"Who said I wanted out of here, princess? Before you came along I was doing just fi--"

"Before I came along, you were already dead. But we're going to change that, yes?" I smirk as sourly as I can, hoping Ana isn't catching onto the sinister meaning behind my words. Truthfully, I don't have much hope of escape, but if commandeering the only position of power in this wretched vehicle is the only way to protect her from being torn apart by Vera, so be it.

Neither girl speaks, so I continue. "Great. Now, I've been thinking about it and as far as escape is concerned, our best shot is when the soldiers open the doors for new passengers. The doors are bolted way too tightly to break open on our own."

Vera gives a brief nod of affirmation, clearly reluctant to comply with my leadership but intrigued by the prospect of escape. If I had to guess, I would say she's inherently defiant and would, if given the chance, refuse aid if it meant rebelling against my suggestions. "I've tried knocking them down several times, but they won't budge. The problem with your plan is we only have one knife to protect us against who knows how many heavily armed soldiers. There's no way we can take them."

"I'm hungry!" Ana's wail cuts across the solemn atmosphere like the claw of a tiger, but her complaint reminds me that I, too, am hungry. I haven't eaten since the night before I was taken. I'm usually unaffected by hunger until starvation begins to set in, but the costly exertions of energy since being abducted don't help. A motor is churning the contents of my stomach, slicing a sharp pain across my abdomen. I ignore it for Ana'a sake, but Vera has other plans.

"Hey, little brat, guess what? No one cares!"

Ana erupts into tears again so I am forced to continue my declaration over her noises. "You're right; we're going to be outgunned. Luckily, this vehicle is full of cargo to sort through. We're going to have to make weapons."

"Already thought of that, princess," Vera says while shaking her head. "That'd be too easy. Wherever we're headed, they really want us to get there. These boxes are full of useless crap-- nothing we can craft arms out of."

I raise a brow, eyes trained on the load behind Vera. "The way I see it, we have two options: sit here and wait for them to--" I pantomime slitting my throat with the side of my hand to avoid frightening Ana any more, "--us, or do everything in our power to escape.  Which one sounds better to you?"

Vera's smug expression is evident, her lashes glittering in the morning sunlight as she assumes a characteristically sarcastic stance. She glances over at Ana and says "Just know my third option still stands." I detect a degree of humor in her lilt, but even as she begins digging through the crates, I keep her safely in my peripheral vision.