Protector #1

The country is at war, we aren't safe in our homes, in our workplaces, on the streets. In the most dangerous towns, the government has split communities into groups. These groups (generally with 10-30 members depending on the size of their residence) were each allocated to a safe spot within the town. These safe spots could be abandoned buildings, council chambers, sewerage tunnels, anything. They were frantically fitted out with everything the group would need to survive, and each member of the group was assigned a role.

Things are very strict in the residences. You do your job and only your job. There isn't time for fun, if you're found enjoying yourself then you will be punished because you could be using your time helping the war effort. The only friends you can make are those who you work side by side with. When it's time for lights out, even clicking on a torch will get you a punishment.

No one in the groups, except the leaders, know about these punishments. They start with shouting, slapping, punching, but these are only warnings. When you earn a punishment you get taken away from the residence and people rarely come back, if they do, they are not willing to talk about what happened.

If you follow these rules and do your job, life in a residence isn't too bad. It's better than being outside where you might get shot or stabbed. There's colourful wallpaper, children who laugh (though only the nannies are allowed to interact with them) and delicious meals when you consider that there's a war on.

If you don't follow these rules, things will get bad. But the thing is, we all break them. We all read the books which only educators are meant to touch, we talk to each other, we sing. I suppose we just understand that you need time to relax and enjoy life when death is looming over you. But these times are rare, because we have to do these things behind the leaders' backs, when they aren't around to see. There's only two or three leaders in each group, so it might seem easy to go behind their backs, but they are always walking around the residences, and they seem to always be watching.

I am a young woman, my residence is in a tunnel system. Not sewers though, these tunnels were used for something else. However, you wouldn't know they were tunnels, they are wallpapered and decorated and furnished so that you'd think we were in an underground home. Beside the kitchen, there is a room with shelves on all three walls. On these shelves are bottles of herbs, medicine, liquids, and other things which I don't understand. My role is to stay in this room for as long as I possibly can and make sure that people only take what their role allows them to take. I'm meant to only leave the room if I need to use the bathroom, or eat. I even have to sleep in there. But, of course, I go into different rooms every now and then.

I adore the children, in their nursery across the hall from the storeroom. When I'm sure that there's no one in the room, I will sometimes visit the children. We keep especially quiet, but play games and giggle. They keep my secret, and because of it we've become good friends.

Sometimes I will go to the bookshelf and choose a title. I never get the time to read a book in its entirety, but I enjoy flicking the pages and reading chapter titles. I like to be reminded how the world was before the war, and what we've got to look forwards to afterwards.

When I step a few metres outside the storeroom to collect my meal from the kitchen, I get a small moment to meet with the cooks. There are two chefs, and two others who clean up and cook every now and then. We never have a full conversation, because at the time I collect my meals, so do the leaders, but we smile, we speak greetings. But in those small exchanges so much more is said. I consider them to be my friends, though they would be called aquaintances in the old world.

There is one man, who I'd say is about five years my senior, that I particularly like. He seems to care more than others, he watches me the whole time I'm near, and his smile is sympathetic, his eyes tender, as if he's telling me to hold on. I appreciate this, because there are times when I'd rather run into the open air than hide away in the storeroom. His name is John, and I only know this because of the introductory day when we entered the residence. He looks like a cowboy from one of the old Western movies; combed hair, masculine face. But he looks gentle too.

I'm sitting in the storeroom on the floor, leaning against my pillow on the wall. With my chin resting on my knees, I hold my necklace, the one personal possession I brought with me. It is made up of black beads, getting larger as they near the middle. In the center is a rectangular, jagged edged quartz crystal. If you hold it at the right angle, you can see a rainbow shooting from one edge to the other. It is beautiful, I can see a rainbow even though I am undergound.

It is the evening, just after dinner, and everyone is going about their tasks. I'm always alone in the evenings, as everyone collects supplies earlier in the day, so I can do 'time-wasting' things such as watching rainbows in crystals without worrying that will a leader will come check on me. If I crane my neck, I see the edge of the kitchen counter from where I sit. Two of my friends are clanging away, washing the dishes.

Then my view is blocked and replaced with the worn knees of jeans. I grip onto the crystal, worried that a leader has come for some strange reason and found me leaning against my pillow, resting when I could be helping the war effort. But I look up, and it's only John. Well, not only John. I am just as surprised at his presence, he shouldn't be here unless he's collecting herbs, which he wouldn't be since the last meal of the day is done.

"May I?" He asks, a comforting grin on his face, he waves his hand towards the far wall. He seems to be in a rush, but of course he is, he's standing outside the storeroom where he's not supposed to be, and anyone could walk by and see him.

I force my own smile, which is genuine though it must look like a zig-zaggy smile because of my shock at seeing him there. I nod and he quickly darts into the room, and sits down beside me. I haven't felt someone this close to me for months, I can feel the material of his jacket touching my arm, and his own knees are just centimetres away from mine. He's warm and I want him to stay there until the war is over.

"What's that?" He glances at crossed hands, with a few black beads visible.

I unravel my fingers and allow the necklace to rest in my palms. "It's my necklace." I look at him expectantly, wondering if he will continue the conversation which I dearly want to have.

"It's..." He raises his eyebrows. "An interesting colour choice." His eyes widen, as if he's worried he just insulted me. "But it's pretty." He is right about the colours, the black doesn't contrast very well with the clear crystal. But the crystal is all I care about.

"There's a rainbow in it." I lift my hand from my knees, and hold it out towards him so that the necklace dangles from my fingers. He goes to take it, his hand coming upwards, gathering the beads until his fingers gently brush against him. I think I'm blushing, but I don't care.

"A rainbow?" He inspects the beads, first, and then goes on to the crystal. He holds it up to his eyes, trying to find the rainbow but to no prevail.

I can't help but grin at how hard he is trying. "Here." My hand wraps around his and the crystal, our warm skin touching to create a firey heat. I tilt his hand, so that the crystal is held in the correct position to see the rainbow.

He stares at it, bringing it slightly closer to his eyes. "That's amazing, it's so clear." I smile proudly, happy to share the rainbow with someone. Then I shiver as I feel him lean slightly closer to me, just a little bit, barely noticeable, but he's definitely closer. Where only the material of his jacket touched me, I can now feel his arm pressed against mine.

"It doesn't have to rain to see rainbows." I say matter of factly, hoping my voice doesn't quiver with the happiness of having him near me.

I'm surprised when he lowers the necklace and turns his head towards me. His eyes, I don't really know how to describe it, but the way he looked at me made my heart beat in my chest, for a moment there wasn't a war going on above the ground. "Can I hug you?" He whispers. I'm taken aback that he would ask, but I suppose it's normal, now that social interaction can get you punished.

"Of course." I force out the words, my heart thumping up and down. He leans towards me and our knees lean together, he extends his arms and I let myself fall into his chest. His arms wrap around me and his chin rests on my shoulder. He smells like leather and curry, a mixture of the cowboy role I imagined him in and his proper role of chef. I could fall asleep in those warm, gentle arms. At first I think my heart has jumped straight out of my chest, but I realise that it is his own, beating against my temple. I feel his breath against my neck, and relax to sound of his breathing. There is no war, it is just the two of us, joined together as one in our own little world.

But then one of the men call from the kitchen, and John has to go.