by Poss, Bryant
“Sit down, please,” He threw two blankets on the floor in front of them, but they just stared at them. “Really, sit down. I’m going to get you some water.”
“Get them something to eat too,” Lo finally said, stepping toward them slowly, trying to avoid intimidation. “Like he said, sit down. We’re not going to hurt you.”
With time, they sat. Lo stood, her .38 back in its holster, while Cillian placed two bottles of water and four honey buns at their feet. The two kids looked at them for as long as they could hold out, but when it came down to it, they probably didn’t care if the main ingredient was cyanide. They began tearing the wrappers open and stuffing their faces, the girl sliding her second treat to the boy. Lo and Cillian stood watching then he went and pulled their own blankets over, sitting down in front of them, waiting for Lo to do the same. He raised his eyebrows You’re making everybody uncomfortable. When she saw him, she sat down carefully, wincing as she did. Reaching back, she pulled Luck from her back pocket and lightly threw it up a few times, catching it, watching them. She set the ball down in the middle of the four of them, sitting like natives about to pass a pipe. They waited for the eating to end. It didn’t take long.
“Did you see Doug?” The girl asked, covering her mouth to speak as she chewed. Lo looked at her for a full minute, trying to decide what to say.
“I saw him,” she said finally, not wanting this world to be based on lies. There were no more children in the world. “He didn’t make it.”
They both looked up at her then at each other. There was a moment of sadness there, of genuine regret then they both nodded solemnly.
“I’m Cillian,” again he felt the need to start things. The silence was becoming unnerving now that the chewing had subsided. “This is Lo.” No response. “What’s your name?” motioning to the girl.
“Alice,” she said weakly, her mouth shining from the glaze of the honeybun. “This is Devon.”
“Don’t talk to them,” Devon hissed at her.
“They’re not like them,” she replied, placing her hand on his shoulder.
“No, but they’ll find out. They said they’d find out. You know he will.”
“Who are they?” Cillian asked holding up his hand.
“Who is he?” Lo asked directly after him.
“The others, the ones who were supposed to protect us.” Devon said softly.
“They allow us to keep living,” Alice looked down as she said it. “That’s what it ended up being. They allowed us, not protected us.”
“The guys out there in the truck?” Cillian asked. They both nodded.
“Let’s get back to them in a minute,” Lo interjected. “Let’s talk about you for now. Let’s talk about how you got to where you are right now. From the time the world changed, what happened to you? Have you always been together?”
“We weren’t before, but we were later. At the safe zone, after—before they came in—”
“Wait, wait, what safe zone? After who came in?” Lo interrupted Devon, trying to get him to slow down, but he was too worked up, his mind wound too tight from his newfound freedom perhaps. Alice held up a hand to Devon and nodded.
“Let me explain,” she said, her green eyes sparkling a little more from the nourishment of the water and snacks. “My name is Alice Swanson, and I’m thirteen years old, almost fourteen. This is Devon Cartwright. He’s ten, going on eleven, and as far as I know we may be the only people to get out of the place we just escaped.”
“That’s exactly what I want you to explain,” Lo said.
“I don’t mean to sound like I don’t thank you for what you’ve done,” Alice spoke softly, alternating looks at her two listeners. “But I’m very tired. I will have to give you the short version of the story, as much of it as I know.”
Cillian looked at Lo and nodded his head then looked at the girl. “Tell whatever you can.”
“My father became sick with—whatever has happened to the world. He became an eater. My mom was able to lock him in the garage because he wasn’t very fast, and we stayed in the house. She didn’t know what else to do. We had a battery-powered radio that we listened to, but eventually all of the voices stopped, all of the talking, so she turned it off. After some days, we were beginning to run out of food, so she turned it back on and fiddled around with it for a few minutes, hitting all the switches. Eventually she came across a voice that kept saying the same thing over and over.”
“That’s what happened to us too,” Devon chimed in. “I was with my granny.”
“Yeah, I think that’s how a lot of people got the message,” Alice continued. “Anyway, the voice said to go to the national guard armory at the north end of town, before you get to the interstate. Anyhow, Mom didn’t know what else to do. We could still hear Dad scratching around in the garage, but he wasn’t nearly as loud by the fifth day, and we were just about out of food, so Mom opened to garage door, and waited for Dad to leave, and he finally did. She cried so hard, watching out the window as he dragged his feet with each step across the grass he cut every other Saturday, and down the street. He could barely walk.” Alice teared up a little then shook her head.
“Anyway, we made it to the armory without much incident, and we were safe there at first. They took care of everybody. Everybody had cots and food. There were men walking around with guns, guarding the fences. It was great. There was even a tank. But, something happened.”
“They lost control,” Lo said blandly.
“Yeah, there was a—what did they call it—a breach? Yeah, there was a breach.”
“But it wasn’t because the eaters got in by themselves,” Devon looked up with glossy eyes. They were green with flecks of brown, as brown as his skin, which made the eyes even more attractive. “He let them in.”
“What?” Cillian asked confused.
“Devon says he saw someone—” Alice began.
“I did see someone, and it wasn’t just someone, it was him. I saw Marshal let them in.”
“Marshal?”
“Let me finish,” Alice looked over at Devon, once again placing a hand on his shoulder. “The eaters got in or were let in or whatever. Everything went crazy, you know? Most of the eaters were slow, but there was one of the fast ones that took everybody by surprise. By the time it was all said and done, over half the people were dead or dying. The man in charge was killed, but no one ever said how, just assumed it was from the eaters, but everything was so crazy, so many guns shooting, so much blood. Who’s to say what happened to anyone? When it was all over, Marshal was in charge. I think his name was Jared. That’s the name that was on his name tag before he took it off. I’m pretty sure that’s what it was. I don’t know. He said that Marshal was what he was called now, and that’s what everyone called him, even the few soldiers that were left. The first one that went against him right after the fence was secure again, was shot in the leg and taken outside the fence. We could hear him scream. He screamed so loud.”
“No one else went against him?” Lo asked.
“No one else did. Everyone else got along with him, called him Marshal. Everyone else did whatever he said. He kept the place secure.”
“Sounds like a coup,” Lo mumbled half to herself. “A mutiny,” glancing at Cillian. “He convinced the others of it. What did he do with the surviving civilians?”
To this, Alice’s face flushed, and she looked down. Several minutes went by, her voice rising in the back of her throat only for her to choke on it. After enough time to direct the situation from uncomfortable to borderline painful, Lo finally spoke for her.
“Have you ever read Lord of the Flies?” she asked, and the two shook their heads.
“I have,” Cillian replied, and she nodded, smiling.
“How about Heart of Darkness?” To this, they all shook their heads, no. “Well, none of you has been to war, but that may change. What will change is you will read those books.” She smiled, trying to comfort them, trying to get Alice to forget trying
to answer.
It was a fun theme to play with. How much was humankind influenced by convention? Take it all away, not just the idea of it, but the reality. Take away all that had been beaten into your brain since day one. This is right, that is wrong. This makes you a hero, and that a coward. This makes you attractive, and that ugly. This is what you should aspire to, and this is how you assist others, but that is how you are called selfish. Here you’re a sinner, there you’re a saint. Take it all away, and what is there? British boys on a tropical island, white men in the Congo, soldiers in the bush, away from everything, away from all eyes. There was no law, or at least no enforcement of it. There were no rules, or at least not those developed over thousands of years of trial and error. There was no religion, and certainly no fear of some horrific afterlife, not after seeing what this existence could be. No, there were only the people, and without consequences, people would eventually become who they truly were. Man would become his most basic instinct, his desire, and so would woman, but She would have to be more cautious, perhaps even more ruthless as a result. History had proven that the physically stronger would dominate the weaker, and She would certainly be reticent to allow that to happen again. Once this was established, there would be two different kinds, not the male and the female, but the activist and the pacifist. Those who realized that nothing stood in the way of their id would allow it to run rampant, at the cost of whomever lay in their path, and those would usually be the pacifists, people who were content with existence itself and just wanted to be allowed to pass their time in peace. Could it ever happen? Would humankind ever allow itself to be peaceful? Alice’s story gave them all a bleak understanding of what could be the answer to that question.
“Well, it’s been quite an eventful night, and I think we’ve been through enough,” Lo said, standing up and arching her back. “What say we get some rest.”
Alice smiled at her weakly and picked up Luck, holding it up for Lo to take it.
I don’t want to tell you what he did. My mother, oh she screamed. There were not many women left. The women were important. There were many more soldiers, not all men, some were women. They took Mom, but she wouldn’t tell me anything when she came back. She couldn’t walk right. There were bruises on her arms, her lips split. I don’t know where she is now. I do know. I do know. I got out. I jumped out when the man knocked the guard away, but they caught him. They caught that man. Doug came with us. He helped too, but the other man was taken back. They didn’t get us. They wouldn’t touch me. He said I was his. Marshal told them all. I was the prettiest he said, the prettiest one. No one was allowed to touch me. He told them. What would Marshal do now? He would be so mad. He would be furious. I’m the one who talked to him at night until he fell asleep. I was his favorite. Would he take it out on the others? Will they make it without me? How will they make it without—
Lo grabbed Luck and gave the girl a smile. Her face seemed calm, but there was panic in her eyes. Lo could see it.
“You want to sleep in separate rooms?” Lo asked, holding her hands out in question. “Do you not feel comfortable around us?”
“No!” Devon nearly shouted, and Cillian put his finger up, telling him to hush. “I’m sorry, but no. Let’s all sleep here. You have guns.”
“Hey,” Lo pulled her .38 from the holster and looked at them. “I tell you what. You all go to sleep, and I’ll keep watch. That way nobody has anything to worry about. You can sleep knowing I’m right here watching everything.”
“All night?” Devon asked.
“Hey, I’ve practically adapted to life without anything more than catnaps at this point.”
Shoes came off, blankets came up, and silence took over. They were only a few minutes in when the rumble of the engine could be heard outside. Lo turned the brightness up on the lamp closest to her.
“What’s that?” Devon’s voice no more than a whisper.
“You know good and well what it is,” Alice hissed, a hint of a sob.
The sound grew. A slight hum from the lamp, barely audible, was the only other hint of existence in the room. Everyone seemed to be holding breath, counting heartbeats. The noise of the engine grew at a nauseatingly slow pace, so much time to listen. Lo watched the eyes of the two newcomers in front of her, Cillian looking at her as she watched. The engine’s consistency faltered, the RPMs lowering, as the firing of the pistons took on an even more guttural sound, like the next thump could be its last before the engine died, but it didn’t, the rumble just perceptible through the walls.
“They’re looking,” Lo’s voice startled the others, unnerving even to herself.
After ten minutes that could have been measured in eternities, the revving of the engine picked up, and the sound faded in the same direction it had come, eventually dying out altogether.
“Oh, thank God,” Devon said through the blanket he held to his face. “Thank God.”
“Go to sleep,” Lo said, looking over at Cillian, who looked back at her with the most intense stare. Sharp kid, that one. She didn’t even have to say anything. He already knew what she was thinking. The truck had turned around at the school. Not the best of signs.
When he finally closed his eyes, she looked at the back of Alice’s head without a smile.
10
I’ll be back in a few. Get everybody fed and situated, please.—L
The note was written on a piece of printer paper held down by the Sharpie she’d used to write it. Luck sat on the paper beside the pen, the hand-drawn eye watching him, seemingly wanting him to take it up. Cillian grabbed the golf ball, turning it this way and that in his hand then he took the marker and filled in the black pupil, the word Luck, making them fresh. He would have to find something green to refinish the iris. After blowing on it to dry, he put it in his pocket and got dressed. The popping from his knees split the silence of the room, and he stretched like a fat cat with every motion of dressing himself. Having become accustomed to the privacy of this world, he arched his back as far as it would go, his pants pulled up to the thighs, and stuffed his hands down the front of his shorts, enjoying the comfort of the morning. It wasn’t until he looked to the blanket across from him that he saw Alice’s eyes staring from underneath the fabric. He could only see her eyes, but their squint told him she was smiling broadly. Immediately, he straightened up, jerking the pants only to lose his balance and fall hard on his blanket beneath him. A soft giggle came from the girl.
“Oh, man, I—I—I thought you were asleep.” He said, trying to cover the crimson of his face.
“Really?” she said playfully. “Seems to me you forgot I was even here. I’ve been watching you since you got up, even watched you color the ball.”
“Well, you kind of get used to not worrying about people watching,” he got up and finished dressing.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” her voice was defensive.
“Nothing. Sorry, I guess that sounded accusatory—bad.”
“I know what accusatory means,” she said, now fully defensive. “Where’d the lady go?”
“Lo, she left a note, said she’d be back soon,” he pulled on his shirt then his shoes, sitting down to tie them. “Hope you guys like cereal.”
“Did you get under the blanket with her last night?” she sat up now with him, a touch of embarrassment on her face after the question.
“Well—yeah, I mean, I always do. We just—ever since—”
“Never mind,” she threw up her hands then looked over at Devon who was still sleeping. “I’m sorry I asked. Really.”
“No, it’s just—” he looked at her for half a minute then shook his head. “We keep the packaged food in the cabinets in here. Well, we are now that we’ve moved some stuff around. There’s already some in here though. You want Rice Krispies or Frosted Flakes?”
“Frosted Flakes,” she pulled her knees to her, wrapping her arms around them.
Alice’s hair was blonde to the point of midday sunlight. In the dimness of the ro
om, it seemed garish. Pulled over one shoulder, it fell to her rib cage, and Cillian couldn’t help but admire it. Her sea green eyes watched him watching her, and he turned to make his way to the cereal, rummaging through the pile until he came up with the miniature, prepackaged boxes of cereal. Once he had them, he turned to her, and again he couldn’t seem to remove his gaze. She had sharp, Slavic features, her face a symmetrical work of art, but something made her more exotic than conventionally pretty. Perhaps it was how far apart her eyes seemed to be, or the razor’s edge of her jawline. He couldn’t tell. She was magnificent to look at, and he was beginning to realize how much he liked looking at beautiful girls—women.
“Do you just get under the covers to sleep—” she seemed to cut herself short with the question, though it could have been the sound of the key hitting the lock on the door. Cillian just stared at her with mouth half open, unsure of how he was even going to answer.
“It’s about to come a downpour,” Lo locked the door behind her. She wore nothing but a sports bra with her jeans, her shirt gripped in her hand, and a bag in the other. They both looked at her, waiting to hear where she’d been.
“I’ve been on the roof for a while,” grabbing one of the boxes of cereal and tearing the top open. “It was a long night. I’ve basically waited for the sun, so I could look out for that truck. It dawned on me while I was up there—Huh, dawned on me. No pun intended. Anyway, it dawned on me that we should set up more containers to catch rainwater. I’ve got the roof covered with trash cans and buckets. I think they’re far enough back not to be seen from the road.”