Karrin Warrior Child

by Sahara Foley

  "I don't know why I be telling you this, retard. After an hour, you won't remember anything I told you. You be wasting my time." With a savage snarl, she grabbed her prod and jabbed Karrin’s bare feet and knees, two, three, then four times, like lightning striking trees.

  Karrin jerked her feet off the cold, concrete floor, and gripped the metal slab as hard as she could with her six-year-old muscles. Her body twitched and jumped, but she didn't whimper or cry.

  The guard stood, growling with disappointment, and slapped the weapon against her thigh. "Seems I be needing more battery packs. Don’t worry, my little retard, we keep a good supply on hand.” Without a backward glance, the guard stormed out, clanging the door shut behind her.

  Breath held, the terrified girl waited, listening to the guard's footsteps as they faded down the hallway, fearful she would return. After their echoes were gone, Karrin scooted until she felt the cold, concrete wall pressing into her small back. Knees pulled to her chest, she wrapped her arms around them, hugging them tightly for warmth. She rested her chin on her knees while her gaze roamed around her 'comfortable' room.

  Other than the two metal beds, a toilet without a lid sat against the only wall. A metal cage with a flickering light bulb hung from the ceiling. No sink, no pillows, no blankets, and no place to hold spare clothing were available.

  The unwanted child tipped her head, studying the door made of metal bars. Across the hallway, she saw another girl wearing the same gray dress with a red collar. She looked as haunted and frightened as Karrin felt.

  Karrin signed and closed her eyes. Images of a bright light, an explosion, and people screaming in pain jerked her eyes back open. The few memories left became nightmares while sleeping. Why can’t I remember?

  She rubbed her wrist. A gold bracelet used to rest there, Karrin, engraved on it. I want it back. The Felney’s took it from her, saying the worthless bracelet was payment for saving her life after Mr. Felney found her half-drowned on the beach.

  Tears threatening, again, she swallowed and forced them back. Before being dragged in front of Matron, her last memory was lying naked in the dark on a cold, concrete floor.

  Footsteps stopped in front of her cell, causing Karrin to cringe. Two guards stared at her like she was an animal in a zoo. The child tried making herself smaller as the hatred from their cold eyes enveloped her.

  "Hey, she's wearing the colors of an unwanted retard," the shorter one told her partner, jabbing her in the side with an elbow. "Matron says we gotta treat them real proper like."

  The two guards snickered.

  "Yeah, when we got time, we be coming back and give her a warm welcome party." The taller guard smacked her friend on the back as they strolled down the hallway, giggling over the ‘presents’ they’d be giving to the new dummy.

  Karrin's breath hitched in her throat, a tear forming in the corner of her eye. She touched the moisture with a trembling finger and studied the small drop gleaming on her fingertip. She squashed it between her finger and thumb.

  "No more. Crying is not allowed here."

  Chapter THREE

  The clanging of the cell door and a gruff voice yanked Karrin from a fitful slumber. "Hey, Yol. Looky here, you got yourself a roommate."

  Karrin rubbed the sleep from her eyes. An older girl with a shaved head stood in the room.

  "Yes, Guard," she mumbled, her brown eyes staring back at Karrin.

  "You got the short straw. Too bad for you," the guard mocked. With a mean laugh, she proceeded down the corridor, banging her electric prod on the closed cell doors.

  Shoulders rounded in resignation, Yol stepped to the toilet, hitched up her dress, and sat. "Shit," she groaned as she leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees. "What did I do? Why'd they put a dummy in with me?"

  Sighing heavily, she dropped her head in her hands. "That means no sleep, and less food." She spoke so softly Karrin barely made out the words.

  Lying on her side, staring straight ahead, Karrin studied the older girl out of the corner of her eyes. Yol wore a blue dress with a white collar. Her bald head gleamed under the harsh lighting. Finished peeing, she punched a gray button on the wall to flush the commode.

  The new cellmate sat on the empty bunk, hands between her scrawny knees, staring at Karrin. Her pouting lips turned into a smirk when she discovered the growing bruise on the child’s cheek. Yol’s smile widened when she noticed the burn marks on the younger girl’s foot, knee, and legs.

  Leaning sideways, she made a big show of peering up and down the hallway. She sat back and whispered, "I see you met Matron, retard." One eyebrow quirked as she pointed at the blistered areas. "Cassie been here, too. She likes to leave her mark, the bloody, fucking cow. Now, listen up, dummy. When dinner comes, I get your share, too. You understand me, dimwit?"

  Karrin didn’t answer. She lay unmoving, staring straight ahead, eyes unblinking.

  "Crap," Yol moaned. "Hey, dummy, can you, at least, talk?"

  Though her eyes burned from not blinking, Karrin laid motionless, her face expressionless.

  "Fuck! You're not even a half-wit. You're a no-wit. I bet all you do is eat and shit." Sliding off her bed, she leaned over Karrin, staring into her vacant eyes.

  In a forced whisper, she hissed, "You're nothing but trouble for me, you little retarded bitch! At least, I'll get a shot at the Yacht or the Farm 'cause I be the best fifteen-year-old Heroin Processor in the sewers. I even earn favors from guards. But, you – you'll end up in a Prison." A sly smile crossed her thin face. "I been told they do all kinds of nasty things to retards in Prison."

  Laughing, she raised her hand, ready to slap Karrin across the face when she froze, brows knitted in thought. "Why'd they put you with me?" She sat back on her bed and nibbled on her thumbnail.

  "Matron never sticks little bitches with us older ones. So, one of us must be leaving. Either you're going with Cook, or…or they picked me for the Yacht." Her brown eyes lit up with excitement. "Yeah, that makes sense 'cause I'll be turning sixteen in a few months. Oh, I can't wait to get out of this dump." Yol squeaked in delight, hugging herself.

  Karrin lay still, trying not to draw attention, when she couldn’t help herself. She blinked.

  "Ah ha, you're not dead after all. At least, not yet." At the sound of squeaky wheels echoing down the hallway, the older girl’s head jerked up. Jumping to her feet, she ordered, "Stand up, stupid. Its dinner."

  Stomach grumbling, Karrin swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat, hands clasped in her lap.

  A grating noise stopped and started, moving closer, until a cart halted in front of their barred doorway. A woman as round as she was tall, long, greasy, brown hair stuck to the side of her face, glared with hard eyes at Karrin. She motioned toward the bald girl, and Yol stepped up to the metal bars. "Who be the other girl?" she asked in a muffled voice.

  Yol shrugged her thin shoulders as she peered sideways at her new cellmate. "I'm not sure, Ginny. I don't think she can hear or talk."

  The guard leaned forward, talking softer. "I ain't supposed to be atellin' you this, but girl, you're gonna be a leaving in a few days."

  Yol grabbed the cold bars and jumped up and down. "I knew it. I knew it," she squealed. "As soon as I saw the retard, I knew I was going to the Yacht. Am I?"

  "Shush, girl!" the fat guard admonished as she nervously glanced up and down the corridor. You ain't sixteen, yet, Yol, so I ain't sure. Let me do some checking. Here, I got to get busy." She slid one small, chrome tray through the horizontal slot in the bars, and took off, pushing the squeaking cart to the next cell.

  Yol took their dinner and sat cross-legged on her bed, cradling the small tray in her lap. Their meal consisted of two pieces of white meat, a hunk of homemade bread, and some gooey stuff splattered in the center of the plate.

  The smell of cooked food drifted toward Karrin, making her stomach growl. She hadn’t eaten in several days.

  Yol stuffed a large chunk of bread in her mouth an
d chewed vigorously. "You be getting a rat leg, and some of the rice, but the bread's all mine." The bully grinned, showing yellow teeth, before pushing another morsel in her mouth.

  The famished girl sat still, tiny hands pressed against her rumbling stomach. Karrin never dealt with hunger before. Not since coming to this place. At least, not as far as she remembered. Even the Felney’s fed her, at least, once a day.

  "Ummm." Yol signed in pleasure and tore off a hunk of meat with her teeth. "The rat tastes so good, today."

  She continued making oohing and ahhing noises until the tray was empty. With a smug look, she said, "Oh, I'm sorry, retard. I ate all our dinner. You should've grabbed some when you had the chance. Here, you can chew on the bones." The mean girl waved a leg bone in the air, laughing maliciously.

  Cruel laughter ringing in her ears, Karrin lay down, faced the gay wall, and curled into a ball.

  A few minutes later the squeaky wheels returned and stopped at their cell.

  Yol leaped off her bed and hurried toward the barred doorway. "What did you find out, Ginny?" She held out the platter.

  "Well, Yol, you be a goin' to the Process Colony on the Island." Her blue eyes gleamed with spite.

  Yol's mouth dropped, the silver platter hitting the concrete with a loud clang. She backed away, hands held up, eyes wide with horror. "No, No, that can't be!" she wailed.

  "What's done, is done, girl. Now, hand me the tray," Ginny demanded.

  Yol jumped to attention and retrieved the fallen plate from the floor. "Yes, Guard," she said and handed it through the bars.

  With a curt nod, the obese guard turned away, pushing the noisy cart.

  Ashen-faced, the girl plopped down on the hard bed, head in her hands. "The Process Colony? I don't understand." She shook her head. "They told me I be rewarded, not, not…" She broke down, sobbing as she rocked, back and forth.

  Karrin felt helpless, not knowing what to do or say. As far as she could tell, any place had to be better than here.

  After several minutes, Yol laid down and faced the gray wall, crying. When her sobs turned to soft snores, Karrin slid off the bed onto the ice-cold concrete floor. Her bladder was overflowing, but fear kept her from using the toilet. The bald girl was as mean as the guards, and she didn’t want to be hurt, again. She peered at the sleeping girl.

  Look at her, now. She's as scared as I am.

  Karrin winced when she sat on the freezing metal rim of the commode. The prod marks on her feet and knees burned like fire, so she bit her cheek to stop from crying. She sniffled and swallowed the pain. Forcing it deep down inside, hiding it away with the loneliness and fear.

  After flushing the toilet, she crept to her bed and lay down against the cold wall, eyes staring at Yol. The older girl flipped on her side and faced Karrin.

  Hands tucked under her head, tears shimmering in her eyes, Yolanda said, "I don't know if;n you understand me, retard, but if’n you get the chance to run – run! A few girls have escaped outta here." She sighed. "I don't remember anyplace, but the Home. I was about your age when I got here. I did everything they asked me to do. Look where that got me."

  She turned on her back and wiped the tears from her eyes. "I sweated in them sewers. I learned to mix and cook and process every kind of shit they got down there. I'm the BEST with the synthetic Heroin. They told us if’n we worked hard, we'd get rewarded. They promised." She beat her fist against the concrete wall, teeth gritted in anger and betrayal.

  "I been lookin' forward to gettin’ outta here, hoping it'd be the Yacht. From what we'd been told, going to the Yacht be like going to heaven. Can you imagine sailing anywhere you wanted? No more walls, or sewer, or Guards – nothin’, but open sky and water. It’s the closest I'd ever get to bein’ free."

  Yolanda turned her head, her sorrowful eyes staring at Karrin. "They might as well as kill me if’n I'm goin’ to the Process Colony. It's owned by the Warden, on an island by what used to be, called Cuba. No one lives very long there.”

  The distraught girl wiped her nose on her arm. “You know what they do to you? Not only do the workers make all the poisonous chemicals that are sent here, but they’re also used for testing. There are terrible stories of how some of the girls have died."

  Her blue eyes widened in dawning horror. "If’n the drugs don't kill us, the guards will. They be all men, and they be allowed to use us any way they want. If’n I don't get kilt in the first year, I'll probably end up pregnant. You know what they do to pregnant girls? They be thrown in the testing labs."

  The distressed girl started sobbing, again. "You be lookin’ at a dead person. Shit! The fucking Processing Colony!" She rolled on her side and faced the wall, her body shaking as she wailed out her misfortune.

  Teeth chattering, Karrin curled into a ball and thought about Yol’s plight. What’s a Processing Colony or Heroin? What happens there? Is it worse than this place? The little girl shuddered, but not from the cold.

  "I'm sorry," she whispered, but her cellmate had already cried herself to sleep.

  An hour later, Karrin drifted off, to be woken by the jolt of an electric prod. Without thinking, she screamed in pain, which rewarded her with another jab to her feet.

  "Got you good, dimwit," snickered a short, Hispanic guard as she strolled past their barred door, patting her rod.

  Once the guard disappeared down the corridor, Yol sat up and wrapped her arms around her legs. "Since you be the new retard on the block, you be easy pickings for the guards. If’n you hear footsteps, get your ass ready. They be comin' for you. Since you also be an unwanted, they can't get rid of you, in case your parents want you back. Otherwise, Matron might lock you in with her boys.”

  The six-year-old child shrugged, not understanding the implications of being locked up with boys.

  Yol huffed in exasperation. “You don’t know. Some of the girls who do the cleanup in the mornings said when a girl gets locked up with them, all that’s left are pieces of bodies. So, you be lucky your family didn't want you. You got, at least, six months before you be fair game. And, don't be acting too crazy, or you be endin' up in the incinerator, alive." She shuddered. "I don't know what be worse – bein’ torn apart or bein’ burned alive."

  Horrific images of being incinerated alive kept Karrin awake the rest of the night. She laid huddled on her cold bed, ears straining for any sound of footsteps coming down the hallway.

  Three more times different guards paid a visit to her cell and slapped prods on her feet. Each time, Karrin gritted her teeth and clutched her oversized dress as her body shook from the electric current. She never made a noise. Not even a whimper.

  One guard became so angry, she jabbed Karrin, over and over, until her battery pack went dead. Calling her names, which the little girl never heard before, the furious tormentor stomped off down the corridor.

  The fifth time footsteps came up the hallway, Karrin squeezed her eyes closed and tensed up for the jarring pain. Nothing happened. Instead, the door clanged open and a loud voice boomed out, "Karen 1685, stand up."

  Karrin jumped off the bed and stared up at the tallest, most muscle-bound woman she'd ever seen. Heart pounding in her chest, she felt like a mouse about to be trampled by an elephant.

  Hands on hips, the guard scowled down at her, bushy eyebrows a single line across her forehead. "Well? We ain't got all day. Put them shoes on."

  She shook her massive head, snorting. "Why'd they give me a fecking retard? You earn your keep or you'll be a part of dinner, you understand? Now, put them shoes on and MOVE!"

  Grimacing, Karrin quickly slipped her burnt feet into the little rubber thongs.

  The mammoth woman grabbed her bony arm and yanked her out the doorway.

  Eyes filled with pity, Yol muttered, "COOK. Oh, fuck. You be as dead as me."

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The hulking, snarling woman wrapped her meaty hand around Karrin's thin upper arm and dragged her relentlessly down the hallway. The little girl’s sandal-clad feet sk
ittered from step-to-step as she stumbled down a set of concrete stairs. With each jolt and jar, it felt like her arm was being ripped out of the socket.

  Karrin bit her lip, trying not to cry out in pain.

  When they hit the bottom of the stairs, the woman, called ‘Cook’, took off with long strides, walking so fast, the lit rooms passed by in a blur. The small girl’s legs pumping hard to keep up with the longer legs. They barreled through a wide, white door where they came to an abrupt halt.

  The room was brightly lit, and Karrin squinted from the glare. Once her eyes adjusted, she gasped at the enormous space. The opposite walls were hazy and far away, and the ceiling was taller than she could throw a rock.

  With another painful tug on her frail arm, the terrified six-year-old was hauled over to a huge table that overflowed with papers, knives, and other items she couldn't identify. The meaty hand released her arm and reached for a bulky collar hanging from an overhead rack. Bending over, the towering woman snapped the thick band around Karrin's slender neck and secured it with a click of a padlock.

  Karrin swallowed around the pressure on her windpipe, the weight of the neckband heavy on her stooped shoulders. Do they think I'm a dog?

  Hands on broad hips, the towering woman scowled at Karrin. "Retard, I'm Cook. As of today, you belong to me. I own you. I have other half-wits working for me, so I know some of you can follow orders. If you prove your worth, I'll make sure you get fed and took care of. No more harassment from those twat-diseased bitch guards. You understand? This is my kitchen, and NOBODY messes with me in my kitchen. Not even Warden or Matron."

  She reached out a finger and tapped it against Karrin's collar. "See that little red circle? That is a bomb. If you wander outside of my kitchen, it'll blow your head clean off." She emphasized her point by fanning out her fingers in a radius around her head, saying "Kapow!"