Winter was going to be hard this year. I could already tell. The grasses and shrubs of the Necropolis were brown and withered from the cold, offering little in the way of concealment.

I hid in the shadows near the gates, scanning the grounds for any sign of movement. I had already watched the regular mourners leave, eager to be gone by the time the watery sun touched the horizon, well before full dark, when the Genecops could, and would, legally shoot any potential grave robbers on site, such as myself. Not that I don't deserve to get shot, at least according to a certain wealthy scalpel slut. But I digress.

It was twilight now. I only had a few minutes left if I wanted to harvest tonight. I thought fleetingly of the gap in the iron fence only a block further, but dismissed it just as quickly. The gap had appeared weeks ago; the Genecops would be watching it by now. With one last look, I took a deep breath and darted through the gates and into a nearby open mausoleum. I crouched behind an ornate stone sarcophagus, and waited. I had cut it close this time. Only seconds later a klaxon sounded, signaling the close of the Necropolis. Anyone caught now would be executed on sight, by order of Geneco.

I waited a while longer before emerging into the frigid night air, and listened intently for the sound of the patrolling Genecops. Smoking torches cast flickering light across the gravestones, and I ghosted between them, touching one here and there, taking note of which plots had already been harvested, and which ones were as yet untouched. This was the closest place I had to a home, and I loved it.

I stopped in an area of deep shadow, and took stock of my surroundings. The sarcophagus at my feet was well concealed between two larger monuments, the Geneco surveillance cameras were pointed away, and a long row of family mausoleums offered emergency concealment. Perfect. I caught sight of a familiar structure, and I thought of a pale wisp of a girl with sad eyes and the worst luck I'd ever seen. I witnessed, along with the rest of the city, the implosion of Shilo Wallace's entire life during that infamous opera fourteen months before. I grinned briefly, remembering how I had drawn the attention of the Genecops when I met her, just to impress her. Damn, did that backfire. In my defense, I didn't actually think we'd get caught… I've passed the place several times since then, but never seen any sign of her. Wherever the kid was, I hoped she was alright.

I crouched down against the sarcophagus and pushed. The stone lid slid away grudgingly, revealing the mouldering corpse inside. I tossed my long hair over my shoulder and tried to ignore the stench. I had to hurry. The scalpel sluts would be eager for a fix tonight; fishnet and torn bras did little to warm too-thin bodies. Any relief, no matter how false, would be welcome in this weather.

Huddling deeper in my thick trench coat, I opened my satchel and pulled out a long syringe. After clicking a little glass vial into place, I shoved the needle up through the corpse's nasal cavity, into its brain. Zydrate, that wonderful, pure painkiller poured into the vial, filling the hollows of the corpse's face with a soft blue glow. I stared, mesmerized. It's been years since I kicked the habit, but the drug still fascinated me.

Which is why I didn't hear the Genecops until they were too close to escape. I pressed myself deeper into the shadows, frantically shoving the zydrate into my pocket. Heavy boots crunched gravel on either side of me, and I risked a look. Two armed Genecops searched the area to my right; another stood several yards to my left. I gauged the distance to the mausoleums, and cursed silently. There was no chance I wouldn't be seen, and the Necropolis would be sealed until they caught me. Damn it, I snarled to myself. I had only a moment before they'd spot me. I shifted slowly, getting ready to make a run for the gap in the fence. I wouldn't make it, but damn if I was going to be shot on my knees.

The sound of shattering glass startled me, and I froze. The Genecops sprinted past me unseeing, focused on the sound that had come from further down the row of mausoleums. I grabbed my satchel and started for the gap, but a soft voice calling my name stopped me. The door to the Wallace tomb was open now, and a pale hand beckoned to me. I vaulted over the body at my feet and darted into the offered sanctuary, shutting the heavy steel door silently. Breathing hard, I peered through the grille, but saw no sign that the Genecops had spotted me. I turned to face my rescuer. The kid stood between her parent's caskets, watching me with a grave expression.

"Hey kid," I grinned. Her mouth stretched into a slight but genuine smile. She had grown taller since I had last seen her, and she had filled out nicely. She had curves now, in all the right places- Stop it, I rebuked myself, dragging my thoughts away from her body. Kid, she's just a kid, I reminded myself firmly, focusing on her face. Dark shadows circling her eyes made her already pale face seem pallid, and her lips were turning blue. Her skin was goose pimpled from the cold. All she was wearing was a sleeveless black shift and stockings, not even shoes to protect her feet from the seeping chill of the marble floor.

"Damn it, kid," I said, shrugging off my coat. I wrapped it around her slight frame. "What the hell are you doing out here like this?" I tucked my hands under my arms. The temperature was dropping fast, and my bones were starting to ache.

"I saw you from my window," she replied. Her voice was still soft, but had lost the timid quality I remembered. "I ran down as quickly as I could when I saw the Genecops. I didn't think I'd make it. Thankfully I had a glass bottle with me."

I opened my mouth to thank her, but a siren cut across my words. I grabbed her and pulled her to the ground. Bright searchlights flashed outside, while loudspeakers announced a grave robber spotted near the pauper's pit.

"This is my patch!" I whispered, furious. Shilo snorted. Poacher or not, the screams that suddenly filled the night air were chilling. Gunfire followed, and then silence. The magnetic locks, which had engaged at the first siren, unlocked now.

"Come on," Shilo whispered. "We need to go before they start searching for others."

"And I suppose you have an escape hatch in here?" I asked sarcastically, gesturing to the bare room. She smirked at me and led me to her mother's portrait on the far wall. She touched the frame, and a section of the wall slid open, revealing a tunnel beyond.

"I didn't have time to grab a torch," she said, grabbing my hand. "Just follow my lead." She pulled me into the tunnel, and the door slid shut behind us, cutting off all light. My heart beating loudly in my chest. I could smell death around us, old and faint, but undeniable. Corpses had never bothered me, but this unrelenting dark set me on edge. I reached out with my free hand and brushed against rough stone, a shelf. Further exploration as we walked revealed corpses, lots of them, emaciated and wrapped in crumbling shrouds.

"Are we almost there yet?" I asked. Shilo chuckled, the brat.

"Almost, she replied, squeezing my hand. "Just a few more feet…there." I heard her fumble for something, and a beam of light spilled from an open door.

"Come inside where it's warm," Shilo offered.