The smoke poisoned atmosphere stained the last vestiges of daylight with a burnt orange, and the occasional streetlight blinked into life. Oran's path took him through the remains of an old housing development; the wooden buildings had been no match for the blanket bombings. He stopped to look at the various missing persons posters nailed to the fences. He recognized some of the faces. Occasionally he stopped at the open grates that lead to the sewers; he strained his ears to listen for what might be down there. The sound of crunched glass across the street broke the silence. Oran turned to look then hurried on his way. There was an old playground in front of his house and Oran broke into a run as he crossed it. Instinctively, he dropped behind one of the benches on the other side and waited. It could have been one of the wild dogs, perhaps a deer or something worse. A couple of minutes passed then two shadows appeared onto the playground. It was Marco and Lloyd. This visit had been coming; they had been out to get him ever since he arrived at the school. Oran stood upright and ran up the hill to his house. The two following boys sprinted after him.

Oran's house stood three stories tall at the end of a short driveway, it used to be where his parents lived but now it was just his grandmother and him. She would be in the living room watching TV as always, the painful events of the last couple of years meant she would rarely leave the house. The back yard, flanked by a large garage, opened onto a small wood. Thinking quickly, Oran ran past the front door of his house and round into the back yard. A security light came on as he came into its view. Breathing heavily he opened the side door of the garage and snapped on the light. Marco and Lloyd were not far behind and seeing the security light they ran to the back of the house. Seeing the light of the garage they approached the door cautiously. Oran remained in hiding. The heavy breathing of the two boys misted the air.

"I'm here," Oran said quietly.

The two boys, now at the back of the yard, turned to see the small boy sitting on the back step of the house. They had run straight by him.

"You are in for it." Lloyd growled as they turned to face him. Oran put up his hand, his assured manner seemed to disconcert the two larger boys.

"Let me show you something first," he added and leant down and reached into his back pack. The two boys paused suddenly unsure. Oran produced one of his chocolate bars.

Marco laughed, "What are you going to do with that?"

Oran opened the wrapper, held the bar up and snapped it loudly.

Nothing happened.

"Wow...that's amazing," Lloyd mocked.

Suddenly, there came a noise from the garage, at first they all barely heard it, a sort of dragging shuffle. Oran snapped the bar again. Out from the garage limped a young girl, she had died long ago. Impulsively she grabbed for the two boys frozen in terror. The girl caught Lloyd's shoulder and he screamed as she clawed at him. He fell to the ground. Oran sat impassively by and reached for a baseball bat that leant against the small wooden bench.

Empathy, that was what his dad told him he lacked. Oran didn't really understand what it meant how anyone could really know what anyone else was feeling. Oran dismissed the uncomfortable memory. Meanwhile Lloyd clutched frantically onto Marco's leg, pleading for help even when the girl sank her teeth into his neck. Oran continued to watch, unmoved by their screams. Marco struggled to free himself and kicked furiously at Lloyd's arms; their screams were lost in the wood. He didn't see Oran appear behind him and with one swing the baseball bat found its mark and Marco fell to the ground. As the girl fed on the two prone bodies, Oran dragged them into the garage. The girl lurched toward him as he did so. He held up a chocolate bar defensively and offered the girl a piece, for a moment the girl stopped, her vacant milky eyes stared into the face of the small boy.

She reached for it and ate it hungrily; it had always been her favourite. There must be a part of her still left. She had been the only one who ever understood him, she was the one who had begged mum and dad not to send him away. Now it was his turn to look out for her.

"It's okay sis, I will look after you," he said quietly and reached out his hand to stroke her now coarse and filthy hair.

"I saw mom today," he whispered, half expecting a reaction.

"Perhaps we'll go and get her someday," he added after a couple of moments lost in his thoughts. He sighed deeply and threw the rest of the bar into the garage. His sister turned automatically and limped inside. Oran snapped the light off and closed the door behind her. Oran sat on the step waiting for the noise in the garage to stop. Oran looked up, he searched forlornly for the stars and hoped that someday they would return through the haze. He carefully placed the baseball bat against the bench, zipped up his back pack and then stepped into the house; after all he had a report to write.