Edwin Davis

It wasn’t a habit of mine to smuggle kids I found on the battlefield across the border. If that were the case, I'd most likely be branded a war criminal by now. But when I saw that girl lying there, barely alive in a rotting pile of bodies, I couldn't help it.

‘Why did you bring me here?’

And what a ridiculous question that was. What was I supposed to say? That I felt sorry for a kid that clearly no one else cared for if they left her behind?

I let out a heavy sigh, my grip tightening around the steering wheel as I glanced over to that girl beside me in the passenger seat while I drove us back to the capital. Her legs were pressed up to the side of the car, seemingly wanting to create as much distance between us as possible.

She’d changed out of that old hospital gown and into some older clothes meant for the soldiers that drowned her entire body, but that was all Liz could find. Her trousers only stayed up because of an old belt we'd found. Liz had also managed to tidy up her unruly dark hair which cascaded down her entire back. She'd tamed it into a manageable ponytail, though, loose strands still poked out from odd places.

I was going to have to thank that nurse later for all of this.

As I continued to steal glances at that girl, it dawned on me how just tiny she looked. In fact, her smallness was one of the things that struck me when I first saw her. Perhaps not in the physical sense since she wasn't short by any means. She was probably taller than most girls her age. But, she was far too skinny after living off of rations for that long. I made another mental note to get her something nice to eat once we arrived, so she could get some more flesh on her bones.

However, none of that was the very first thing I noticed. No, that would've been her eyes.

Just barely through her eyelids, there was something I never thought I'd see in a war. They were eyes that seemed to bore into your very soul, ones that pierced into the deepest trenches hidden in you. There was this golden luminesce that radiated from her iris as if embers were burning in them. It was like a star that refused to die.

I’d seen green, blue, brown, hell, even purple eyes on occasion, but never gold. I didn’t even think that was an option. Was it even normal? Probably not. To say the least, it was another thing to add to the list of abnormalities about her.

"Say, was there anything you wanted to eat once we arrived?"

“No, Mister Davis”

It had only been a few hours since we left the military hospital. We'd made it into the city at that point, and yet in that small amount of time, this girl already proved to be the dullest conversation partner I ever had.

I was starting to think she was allergic to responses that exceeded more than a few syllables. And I couldn't exactly get anything from her expressions either. If she wasn’t actively glaring at me, it was just a stoic look stuck to her face. If I had to describe the feeling, it was kind of like trying to read a blank piece of paper, that is, if the paper could glare at you.

I shifted my attention back to the road, focusing on vehicles that drove past. Honestly, it was a surprise to see so many of these automobiles driving alongside carriages through the street. Before the war, they were hardly affordable enough for most people, but now, it seemed as if every other person owned one.

It sometimes felt like I'd returned to an entirely different city.

So I couldn’t imagine how that girl must’ve felt if she'd never known anything outside the war. Her eyes fixated out the window, taking in every building, vehicle and person we drove past. Had she even visited a city like this before?

"You're probably curious about where we're headed, aren't you?"

"No, not particularly."

I tried to not let my smile falter, feeling it strain. "Well, I'm bringing you to the funeral home I own."

"And what's that?"

"It's a kind of business that provides burial and funeral services. My brother was actually the mortician of the family and owned that funeral home before I did. But after he passed away during the war, I inherited the property and instead of selling it, I decided to keep it up and running as the funeral director.

In my peripheral, I could see her glancing over to me with perhaps the closest to a look of curiosity I got from her yet. “Most of the business is done on the ground floor, but there’s a small apartment above it with a spare room.”

“And you’d like me to live there?” she asked, staring at me hollowly, but at least she was finally saying something longer than a few syllables. Thank God.

“That’s right. It’s a bit morbid—I know— to live right above a morgue,” I said playfully, trying to lighten the mood. “But while I’m still figuring out that paperwork for you, it’s best for you to stay with me for the time being.”

She leaned her head back against the seat, gazing back out of the window. “And how long will that be?”

“Don’t tell me you’re already eager to leave.”

It was supposed to be a small tease, but judging from the lack of response that followed, she was probably a little more serious than I was about it.

I cleared my throat, trying to ease the awkwardness. “I’m not sure exactly, it might take some time. But while you stayed there, I thought you might like to help around a bit.”

She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes at me. “You want me to work for you?”

“Well, you don’t have to. I’m certainly not going to force you into labour, but, Liz did say it would be good for you to move around a bit since you were unconscious for so long.”

She stared at me for a long moment, as if considering my words, before finally nodding. “Alright, if you think that will be best.”

I smiled to myself, relieved she actually agreed. I don't know what I would've done if she didn't.

“Oh, and it looks like we’re here now.”

I pulled up to the side of the road and turned off the engine right in front of a building. It was nothing special, hardly the grandest building around as it only reached a few stories high, but it was my brother’s pride and joy. He'd even used to call it his 'child'.

Of course, it deteriorated a bit after he left for the war, leaving it abandoned for a while. But after I left the army, I’d been able to fix it up here and there. I’d even hired some new staff so it felt more like a functioning business.

“Come on, I’ll show you around.”

I opened the car door to let myself out before walking up towards the building. Thankfully, that girl was still following after me, albeit, a good few paces behind me. Although, I suppose it was better than having her take off the moment I stopped the car.

“Hey boss, don’t you know it’s my day off? Why did you call me out here?” someone suddenly called out to me.

I turned towards the source of that voice, finding a familiar move of olive-grey hair that was as ruffled as ever. A certain young man stood by the front door, arms crossed and shoulders slouched as he leaned against the door frame. His grey eyes only looked all the more disinterested as we approached.

“What did I say about calling me ‘boss’? You’re supposed to call me ‘director’ now,” I said, shooting him a disapproving look.

“Yeah, I remember,” he said, sounding far too nonchalantly for my liking. But his attention quickly shifted to the girl behind me as he narrowed his eyes at her. "Boss, who's the kid?"

“It’s director,” I reminded him again, but my will to argue was already dissipating, “And you’re not that much older than she is so don’t be rude.”

I turned back to look at her, meeting her eyes with a smile. Her eyes, however, were starting to glare again. At least this time, it wasn't at me as she shifted her attention to the man in front of us, eyeing him carefully with that usual blank expression that made it difficult to tell what she might've been thinking.

“Let me introduce you. This over here is Alfred, he’s the general hand at the funeral home.”

Alfred took a few steps from the door, sliding his hands into his pockets. “In other words, I do all the dirty work they need to get done around here.”

“Well I suppose that’s one way of putting it,” I mumbled, already feeling tired of having to deal with him, “And Alfred, this is… the girl I’m looking after for the time being.”

There was a look of curiosity in his eyes as he peered over at her. She returned that stare, though with much more hostility. It was almost concerning how long they stared, not even blinking once as if they were engaged in some sort of silent staring contest.

“Since when did you pluck kids off the street?”

“Why did you just assume I took her off the street?!” I could already feel my exasperation rising, but then again, he wasn't that wrong. A deserted battlefield wasn’t all that far off.

“Well it’s not like you bring kids over here every day,” he argued back, sighing loudly before turning back to look at her. “Well it’s nice to meet you, I guess.”

I think that was his attempt at being polite.

“Likewise.”

It was like trying to get two children to get along: awkward for every party involved. I cleared my throat before the two could burn holes into each other with their eyes. “Follow me inside. I’ll show you around.”

I moved to open the door to let her in. Alfred followed behind, still eyeing her closely as she walked past. Inside, Francesca stood behind the reception desk, her dark crimson hair tied up in the neat bun she always wore, looking like the pinnacle of professionalism.

She had her glasses on as she read through one of the record books, raising her head after hearing us enter the room. The moment she saw us, a welcoming smile appeared on her face. It was the one she'd practised many times with customers.

“Davis, you’re back. And you brought a pretty girl with you.”

Of course she had to put it like that.

“She’s going to be staying with us for some time,” I said before turning back towards said ‘pretty girl’. “This here is Ms. Francesca Rossi. She’s the funeral arranger here, and I wouldn’t be able to keep the business running without her.”

“Hey! Why did she get such a nice introduction?”

“You shouldn’t be so brash in front of our guest, Alfred,” Francesca said, reprimanding him lightly with a momentary sternness flickering across her face. But when she turned to the girl, it was quickly replaced with a friendlier smile. “It’s nice to meet you—”

She was cut off by someone. His sudden voice pervaded around the room and brought us all to a silence.

“Who is this?”