#141 : Refugees: The Children

..............................................................................................................................................

Boat People, Refugees, Castaways OF the Storm, call them what you will. By ones and twos random flood victims were still being located and assisted. The WaterTribe, as the residents of the Banana Slug had taken to calling themselves, even though they thought that they were under sentence of death by the Government, were doing everything that they could to help any survivors they found. They didn’t just ‘find’ the castaways, the WaterTribe had an active system looking for them. Their bug-net covered thousands of square miles.



Many children, a surprisingly large number of them infants, were found floating in some unlikely container or hanging onto an antenna or from in the branches of tall trees. Their parents were nowhere to be found. The children were too young to do anything on their own except die. Yet they had refused to do so. They held onto precious life until their last, dying, gasping breath. When found they were rendered immediate aid by the WaterClan Avatars and brought home to the Banana Slug as quickly as possible by FastManta.



When adolescents or adults were located they were generally given assistance in the form of a grubstake package and a small house boat conjured from SSmoke, called a ‘kinship’, then left alone. They were old enough to make a choice. If they wanted to come to the Banana Slug they were given directions there or they could return to land, their choice.



The WaterTribe were being put to the test. The influx of refugees presented specific problems because most of them were children who had been psychologically traumatized. In most cases their parents had given their lives that they might live, like Annette. In some cases, like the ‘islanders’ and others they arrived as families.

“Mom” the same conversation spontaneously occurred in a great many families among the WaterTribe “Dad, there’s something I got to do.”

“Oh yeah?” The parent would ask “What’s the matter son (daughter)?”

“I have to help somehow.” he (she) would say “Those poor kids.”

Then he(she) would explain. The refugee children who were being brought in by the FastManta’s were all alone. They had no one, they’d lost everything, in many cases even their names. They’d wake up in the middle of the night screaming. They needed someone to be there for them.

They needed help.

About that time the mother usually started crying, often times the father too. Not of sorrow but of pride. Often as not they took a child or several into their family. Adopting a child was as easy as taking in a stray kitten. Big families of ten or a dozen children became the norm, all of whom except for one or two were the adopted ones. Who was going to say otherwise and why?

Currently the sleeping arrangements for the orphan children, not taken in by a family, were much like stacked Barrels, only somewhat more luxurious. Their sleeping pods could be configured into any format, even much like the inside of a womb. (_complete with soothing heartbeat _). Many of the orphans made their own little ‘forts’ and ‘safe places’ but all were discretely monitored while they slept. If at anytime they exhibited undue stress there was a member of the RowdyBunch there to soothe them.

For the extreme cases there were the HugThugs.

Some of the trauma had been extreme, even worse than Annette, although not as bad as the eggchild. Those children were so troubled by their harrowing experiences that they couldn’t sleep well and when they did they had nightmares. Some needed to be held. For many of them other children their own age was sufficient. Most mornings there were ‘puppy piles’ in some of the pods. Some of the children had left their pods and got into other pods with their friends. The pods were ‘smart’ and expanded to accommodate them. The children huddled together in sleep. That was fine, whatever worked. It harmed no one and was beneficial to them.

For a critical few it was not enough. Some had experienced such horror that a greater degree of perceived security was needed to make them feel safe. Thus the HugThugs were borne. Much to their initial dismay. Captain Parmalee and Marc TwoFeathers became rugs. They had toddlers sleeping on them like kittens.

The Big Bad Cybernetic “kill you with my little finger” Orcs provided perceived security for the kids. Who’s going to hurt them when they are asleep in the arms of a killing machine? Marc and Captain grew to like it. They had signed on originally to help and take care of people. Terrified pre-teens were people. This worked. Each one of them eventually sheltered half a dozen youngsters each. They ate together, slept together, lived together, stood watch together and went on patrol together. Removing an orphan toddler from it’s HugThug was like ripping velcro but with MUCH louder sound effects, MUCH MUCH louder. That’s what family was all about. Being there for each other when needed. The WaterTribe was Growing and most of the population was young....very young.


---

........................
The Next Episode Is
#142 : Refugees-The Toy Gorilla…
The Previous Episode was
#140 :Dinosaur…
The First Episode was
# 1 : Prologue…
..............
Book One: SoulStone
..................................................
I'm

@everittdmickey
.
I write
SPECULATIVE FICTION
My books on Amazon.
I engage in political commentary
and
generally talk about anything that strikes my fancy
on
Steemit
and
Sola

When watching the LameStream FakeNews Media

it's hard to tell what’s true or when they are lying isn’t it? It seems that they are more interested in influencing public opinion than they are reporting the facts.
SteemPunk Snail Image from Pixabay