1.

When it happened the eldest knew. They had been missing for days, left them here in this place that was not theirs. Their mother had nipped out and not come back and their father had got worried and had gone out after her, telling the children not to make a sound, that the eldest was in charge and stay hidden and now they were standing beside her bed in each others arms as if they had crept into the room in the middle of the night to check and admire, as they had so many times when she had open her eyes in a doze and caught them smiling, though this time they were deathly. They put their hands through her hair. They kissed her. They hugged her. They told her that they would always be with her. That they loved her like the universe that was ever expanding. They said that it was up to her now to look after her brother and sister. That they were not going to be there in person, but their spirits would never leave them. Her mother then exclaimed oh god and held her as tight as she could and her father screamed no, not now and slowly they both disappeared from view and presence.
The girl was left sitting in bed. Alone. She didn't sleep. She tried but nothing came. She got up. She went first to her little sisters room. The little sister was just eighteen months and was sound asleep. She was lying on her back and breathing lightly. The elder sister watched her. She watched her because she was her parent now and so it was up to her to take on a parent's view. She tried to look with her mother's eyes.
She then went into her brother's room. He was five, three years younger than her eight. He was curled up in a ball. She climbed in with him and held him. She put her face against his and felt his breathing against her cheek. She put her head on the pillow and took in the aroma of his hair. She imagined her father breathing him in as he had done to her so, so many times. Her brother breathed quietly and slowly she fell asleep.
When she awoke she lay there silently, daylight was filtered through the curtains. She didn't wake with a start. It was not sudden. It was a slow painful drag into the day.
When her brother woke she said to him that their mum and dad were dead. He asked her how she knew and she told him that last night they had come to her. He lay there not doubting her word because when she spoke she reminded him of his mother. He knew that she knew things that he didn't. He could feel that something had changed.
They could hear the little one stir. She got up and went to her. She picked her out of the cot. She then felt her heart break because she knew that this little one would know nothing of her parents. Ghosts work best like memories but if you have none then there are none. That's just the way it is.
She made all three of them breakfast and then she got herself ready as they played. She looked in the mirror at her eight year old face and saw both her father and mother looking back at her. She began to cry. The phone. It made them all jump. One ring then another, their little faces caught as if in some sin.
That might be them, the boy said.
She looked at him not wanting to destroy his hope. I don't think it is.
It might be.
No.
Who else could it be?
I don't know.
It might be them. Answer it.
No.
Please.
We don't know who it is.
Please.
Leave it.
Please.
It'll stop ringing.
No it won't. It's them.
She was shaking her head but reached out and held her hand above the phone, unable to move, knowing deep down that no good could come of it. This place was a secret, that is what they had said. They had been running but she had no idea why, they kept her in the dark, just told her things were bad for them and that they no longer had a place to stay and when she had questioned further they just told her that there were things that she was too young to understand, his heart breaking and she could see it in his eyes, a fear that could not be hidden. And of course there had been stories of the people made missing, vanished in the night, a neighbour down the hall, a friend not at school and the hangings in the park, black dots kicking in the distance, for all were required to witness whether adult or child. She knew the mantra about justice and the change of heart and had heard her parents curse it when they thought that they were alone. The eyes that were always on them, ears scrutinising a sentence, the big world, outer and inner, checking, scanning, penetrating. Never trust a smile if you do not know the face.
She looked to him and his big eyes were welling with tears. Please. Please.
She picked it up slowly and raised it to her ear.
The boy knew immediately that some end had come because the child had left her face. There was electricity crackling above her and she was silent and looking ahead, aware of him but looking beyond him into another dimension. She started to nod as if some instruction had come and he turned to see who was there and as he turned back she was up and about the room snatching things and throwing them into a bag. She took as much as she could carry. The brother watched. She snapped - choose a toy. Just one. We can only take one.
Which one should it be?
And she stopped and said which one reminds you of them. And he looked at her and said that he did not know and she picked up his blue bear and said this is where she stitched it and he held you with it.
He nodded and stuffed it in the bag.
The little one was still.
The eldest took one look at the place that they had inhabited and saw one photo on the mantelpiece with all five of them smiling. It was too precious but she had no choice but to fold it. She made sure that no fold would cross her parent's faces. And then she saw their book and found that there was room and no more for it.
They had started with the doorbell but when there was no answer they began to pound. She peaked out of the window. They were at the front and the back of the house. At the front of the house they were bringing a bright red battering ram.
Quick, she said, we have to go up. She put the back pack on her brother and put her sister into the baby carrier and slung her on her back. She was heavy.
There were slow heavy, unforgiving crashes on the front door below.
They climbed to the top of the house. She didn't really know what they were going to do when they got there but they ran up anyway.
When they got to the top most window she looked out. Her brother was looking scared.
What do they want?
I don't know.
I wish...
So do I.
She looked out of the window. They were a long way up.
We need to climb out. If we climb out and get onto the roof we might be able to get over to the next building.
He looked at her and never doubted. She felt doubt of course but she didn't want to get caught. When they came they came and that was that.
She opened the window. The three children looked out. The little one was mercifully quiet. The boy held her hand. They were not noticed from below. The girl took a deep breath and told her brother that it would be fine. And then she stepped out. Her feet tipped out over the edge.
Below the front door smashed and bodies fought to make their way. It was crawling.
We have to go.
I'm scared.
There were feet running up the stairs.
We have to go now.
I might fall.
And she smiled like her mother and said I will catch you.
Even from up here?
Even from up here.
Vermin in an army on its way up. There were voices and radios and orders.
He stepped out.
The men were scrambling almost feet away behind the wall, behind the door. She reached in and closed the window. As the door to the room caved in their feet vanished from view.
Over the rooftops they ran. Their bodies black silhouettes in a moment of sun. Their little footsteps as quick as their little feet could carry them, the little one with eyes wide taking it all in for the first time as the wind blew her soft hair, oblivious to the height, to the drop, to the death not far behind them, around them, two small figures carrying a burden beyond their time and a little one with no knowledge of this life let alone its end .
Quickly, quickly.
I'm going as quick as I can. This bag is heavy.
Yes, I know. We can rest later.
The boy knew that there was no time. Whatever it was that was behind them he knew that it was a sure bad thing. The roof came to an end. Between them and the next one was a jump that stretched slightly longer than triple the Eldest's ones body.
I don't think I can jump that far he said.
Her brow was tight and deep in thought.
I could try. If I run. Maybe, he decided.
She looked at him, her little brother, full of life and pleasant dreams and boyish bravado. She scanned the roof. She heard voices coming from the window from which they had come. He turned towards her and she could sense that he was about to cry. And there behind him she saw a plank.
Quick.
With the bag on his back and the child on hers it wasn't so easy to lift it. But they managed. Its stretch across the chasm was ample. But its width was slight.
We'll have to balance.
And a great cloud fell over the earth, it blew out the sun but in fairness so too did it block out the wind.
Like in the circus.
Yes.
They stood up on the ledge. She felt her mother say, don't look down, just look ahead and don't go faster than you need. Her brother replied OK and she look down on him and smiled and said are you ready and she could see that he wasn't, so she said don't be afraid, I am with you, trying to give her voice the authority of some force other than this earth, but feeling small, which their three forms were. Tiny in comparison to the thing that was after them.
She held his hand and edged her feet out. The little one on her back started to call his name. She held his hand. Four feet gently moving forward and below them, far below the ground in a snapshot silent and still and dead. Their movement was inches and they blocked out all else around them.
A head appeared in the distance behind them and a voice called but they didn't hear. They were halfway across, the wood was old and creaked and there in the centre it gently bowed.
Just keep going.
I'm scared.
Yes, I'm scared too.
And then a figure, then two, then three, then five appeared on the roof behind and came dashing towards them, dynamic forms covering the ground so quick. The little feet almost to the other side and the boy turned and called her name and nearly lost his foot and the older girl turned and grabbed and steadied him and saw what was hurtling towards them. She pulled him quickly across as the heavy figure of a man leapt forward, loosing its balance, scrambling for the plank, which tipped and snapped and with a terrible scream he fell, bouncing off the walls, head flipping somersaults to splat three blood daubs on the walls to finish in a cruel thump all that way down below.
The children looked back at those that were after them. For a moment there was a silence as wide as the space between them. And then she said run and they were off, the little one bouncing on her back and the boy as fast as he could behind her, through a door, almost falling down some stairs. Don't look back. Don't look back. The stairs a mild blue with thin worn metal banisters. Round and round, jumping two, three at a time till the bottom was reached, a corridor ran and they burst out into an alley separated from the world and ran with their burdens swinging heavy on their backs dwarfing all the more their pocket size forms.
EyeHawks were circling above so they kept to the shadows, scrambling from one doorway to another. Hiding in shadows. The older girl holding her younger brothers hand. And in their ears they could hear the gentle pit pat of trailing feet and the frightening whirr just above them.
Today the girl had grown up. It came upon her the night before, bold as brass, sat in the room with her as she slept and made itself known when she woke. She pulled her little brother along, his little self trailing behind desperate to keep up. They didn't talk.
The windows at ground level were blank some shuttered and some with blinds down. As was the way in the early hours. And as she drove them on she could see her parents helplessly looking on. The smaller brother running on with eyes to the floor careful not to trip.
Her back was getting tired. The little sister was weighing her down. To an adult she would have me knee high to a grasshopper but to her she was half her height and as she had never been close she had never made a thing of lifting her. Her body was unpractised for her. There was something of the new parent about her now, kind of lost and unknowing.
I have to stop his little voice said.
She came to a halt. We have to keep going.
I need a rest. And wide eyes looked at her.
But they might catch us.
He looked up and said that the EyeHawks had gone.
She saw that the sky was clear but something in her heart said don't stop. But her back was aching. She looked up and down. The street was narrow and dark. There was an alley.
We'll rest down there.
He wasn't convinced. When he slept these were the places that he avoided.
We have to get out of the way, she said, where no-one will find us.
She pulled him to the edge of it and they looked down. It was in shadow and cold and damp but there was no choice she said to him. Half way down was a dumpster.
We can hide behind that she said.
Ok.
They took one look behind them stepped into the half dark.
It's ok, it's ok, she said to him. He held her hand tight. The little one held on her collar. There was a wind down there. The dumpster became a giant over them.
She took the girl off her back. You have to stay in she told her. She did not dare to let her out because the girl had spirit and she was too young to understand the peril they had found themselves in. But her little legs were kicking. She was about to scream. Please, please I daren't . But her face was screwing up.
Ok. Ok.
The little boy sat on the floor behind the dumpster, away from the view of the street.
The Elder girl lifted her sister from the pack. And the three sat side by side together.
What was that?
What?
Sssh.
There were feet and voices. There was banging on doors. There were tired voices being woken as if from the frost.
Her small heart began to beat fast. She held her brother close, the little one was between them.
Don't worry she said it will be fine. She sounded like her mother. Even so it was obvious that she was scared and this kept them quiet. The voices were moving down the street. There were Eye Hawks with them too.
Under here, he said.
No we won't fit.
If we were smaller we might.
Yes.
And she wished a door would open in the wall. She wished hard for it but nothing.
The voices were getting closer.
All three of them quiet.
Then they heard someone running they heard shouting. Voices screaming and then a series of bangs, which made them jump and a cry of pain, then calls for silence and keep back, get back, it's all over.
She was squeezing them so tight.
A woman's voice was wailing. And then there were two more violent cracks and then silence.
The three children were frozen. They sat silent for two hours. By the time they emerged it was all over and the world had moved on. When they crept out into the street the only evidence was where there was blood. People were going about their business.
What happened, he asked?
I don't know.
He held onto her hand.
Come on.
Where are we going?
She looked ahead and just said there.

.....

Hovelled up. Side by side. And the sun coming down and the air cold, in fading light and the onset of night.
We must stay hidden she said. Which they did in the bush in the park, which rustled like an old mummer in a big skirt. The little one was quiet and rolled up in her lap. She stroked her hair, which was soft.
Her brother was tired next to her. He asked about why but she had no answers. It is just the way it is. Things happen like this, like being born. We don't know where we are to be born, it just happens she said.
But I still miss them he said.
Yes, she said. I do too.
It is like magic, this love.
He creased his brow. The big mummer leaves rustled like starched cotton and their breath made dry ice smoke and their hearts beat the drum roll to the terrible enchantment of this reality. And in this moment her hope was no illusion.
She put her arm around him and they were quiet.

2.

I will talk about specifics. I am able to that. It was never my job to question the rights or wrongs of the method. It was clear to me, as it was to all of us, that the indoctrination began at an early age, from the moment of conception. You could say that even the music that a mother might play to the thing in her womb has been decided upon to ignite some purpose. Of course if the child emerges a simpleton then the exercise would have been futile, but I can guarantee you that the child could still hum that tune even when knocking on death's door a lifetime later. The early years of child are the most formative. It is impossible to escape. Impossible. The seeds of ideas are planted then. Even if you rebel you rebel with that as your marker. The seed is still there. Alive. Ideas live in a person and the only way to fully root them out is to the uproot the individual.
Although their screams haunt me I do it again and again. Yes, because it was a thing that had to be done. I can tell that the child has been glutted full of the ideology of their parents. But it is a subtle process for the tenets that had been laid down on the bed of the child's consciousness are not so very different to our own. We all share the common ground when we talk about love and peace and law and justice. Paint a broad stroke and you will find that there is not much that separates us but dig a little deeper and you will find not hairline fractures but chasms. What starts as a romantic tale, a simple aspiration, perhaps even noble, is malign, corrupt, cankerous. Even in a child. Even there. For all peoples the child is a thing of hope, a beacon, the torch at the head of the line and it is there that the light shines most pure, no developed arguments to water it down. And that is why they must be felled in youth or yanked out as a sapling.
There is no joy in this life. None. I walk in the parks. I walk alone and I see the young at play. The screams of joy, of pain, of selfishness. Yes, selfishness... There is nothing so selfish as a child. As we grow we reach towards a selflessness. We learn to control desires or lock them away for private moments, but in a child there is no such self control. None. There is a pureness of it all, unconscious energy that absorbs, grows and amasses. And then one day there is an awakening.
A child knows not why it dies, it is quickly resigned. It is easily held down. It is briskly turned off. A snap and it is done. And the playgrounds, the fun, the thoughts, the voices, the stories, the morals and the mayhem are switched off. This is the job. Stem the flow of the thing that will in time present itself as the force that will tumble us down.
Once a child spat and cursed and tiraded. It's vocabulary was beyond it's eight years. And it fought, harder than any adult I have seen. But it did not ask for mercy. Never once did it ask for mercy. It spoke about generations to come, it spoke about freedoms, brotherhood, camaraderie. It never let up, no matter what it was that we did to it. I was young and wanted to understand. Some give away, some look in the eye... but of course you never find it. It becomes a way of self punishment. Yes, you go through a stage when you feel that you cannot go on that the work you have chosen or been elected to do consumes you.
Never under estimate what is is to kill a child or to pick it a part to gain some information or worse still, as part of some faceless study. Never underestimate these feelings, for these are things that remind you that you are human.