Scorched

by Michael Soll

  Awakening:

  I awoke to the sound of chatter below. I jumped to my feet and tiptoed to my door. Opened it a creak and listened in on my father talking to Riley.

  “They aren’t NaNas,” said my father’s young and powerful advisor.

  “Where are the rest?” My father stared at his inferior, waiting for a response. “Are there any more?”

  “We don’t know. They speak a little English, but it’s difficult to communicate. They don’t appear to be a threat.”

  My father picked up a soggy grape, disappointed at its less than perfect nature and tossed it in the trash. “That’s what the NaNas said about us.” He walked over to a skull encased in glass, teeth like daggers. Holds it up high. “And now look at them.”

  “The NaNas were dangerous brutes. These children are savages but their savagery is predicated on naivety and not viciousness.”

  “And where are they now?”

  “The wounded boy is recovering in the ICU. The other two are locked up at the station. Should we kill them?”

  My father took a seat at his desk. Sat quietly for a moment before, “We’re a civilized people. We don’t kill those who pose no threat. We’ll hold a charity event. An auction for each of our guests with all proceeds going toward the schools.”

  Riley nodded. “I’ll let everybody know.”

  “You go with him, Joseph. Since the topic so intrigues you.” He looked up and easily spotted me hiding behind the banister.

  ***

  The City Center was the most crowded I had ever seen it. Nearly all 2,300ish people in town had shown up for the charity auction.

  My father took center stage on the podium and quieted the raucous crowd. “My fellow Newburyians, thank you for coming out to today’s charity auction. As you have heard by now, my son Joseph discovered three strangers last week. They are no threat to us and should be treated as guests until they can be properly integrated into our society. We will be auctioning off each of the three to the highest bidder on the grounds that such person will take it upon him or herself to sivilize the savage. And let me remind you that all the money taken in today will go toward refurbishing our schools.”

  The crowd cheered and my father waited a moment, absorbing the applause like the plants take in the UV light. “And without further adieu, our first savage is roughly 14 years of age and goes by the name Cotta. Please, welcome him to the stage.”

  The crowd cheered again as the younger of the boys was escorted to the stage, chains around his wrists and ankles. “He would certainly be a great addition to any household. A strong and sturdy boy, no doubt can help around the house. Why don’t we start the bidding off at 100.”

  “100!” An elderly woman (I forget her name) shouted gleefully, smiling at the prospect of welcoming a new member to her family.

  “200!” shouted Thomas, a middle-aged botanist living alone in the East District.

  “300!” squealed a little girl no older than 5, standing between her father and mother who happily encouraged their daughter. “So I can have a new big brother!”

  The crowd awed. “I don’t think we need to go any further than that. Sold for 300 to the Wilkins. Come on up, Annie, and claim your new brother!”

  The girl looked up at her parents who simply nodded. She quickly ran through the crowd and up the steps onto the stage and hesitantly stared up at the stranger before her who hesitantly stared back. “I’m Annie, your new sister.”

  Cotta looked down and said, “Herble, wherel is brughets?”

  She slowly moved her hand and touched the boy’s arm, then, leapt forward and gave him a hug. The boy didn’t reciprocate. He just looked down, confusion smattered across his face.

  “First thing’s first,” the girl said as she grabbed his chains and dragged him offstage, “we gotta get you something nicer to wear.”

  My father quieted the crowd once more. “Ladies and gentleman, our next savage is no older than 13 years of age. Please welcome to the stage, Kaolin!”

  The crowd erupted as the teenage girl was escorted onto the stage. “Once again we’ll start the bidding at 100.”

  “100!” shouted the elderly woman.

  “200!” exclaimed Benson, the police commissioner’s son.

  “300!” The elderly woman was not giving up so easily.

  “500!” A middle-aged woman stood alone, staring longingly at the little girl. I had never seen the woman before, but there were many people in the city I had never seen.

  “Do I hear 600? No? 500 to Meredith Washburn! Come on up and claim your Kaolin.”

  The woman took her time through the crowd and up the steps. She stared at the girl and the girl stared back. Placed her hand in front of her. The girl examined the hand. “Come with me Kaolin.” She put her hand on the girls back and led her off the stage.

  “And now, ladies and gentleman, the final part of our charity auction, he’s the oldest of the three, roughly 15 years of age. He’s recovering from an abdominal wound but has been medically cleared for the auction. Please welcome to the stage…Spec!”

  And then, my wounded friend made his way to the stage. He looked around at the crowd, in total awe. He looked like a kid in a weddle shop.

  My father put his arm around my stranger. “For continuity sake, we’ll start off at 100.”

  “1000!”

  The crowd went quiet as all eyes landed on me. I looked over and noticed my hand had skyrocketed to the ceiling and then I realized that it was I who had shouted the price.

  My father looked at me like he had never looked at me before. I saw pride and anger and curiosity.

  And then, after what seemed like a lifetime of that stare, he spoke up, “You heard the man, 1000 to my son, Joseph! Come on up and claim your prize.”

  I tentatively moved through the crowd and onto the stage and looked at the boy. He was older than I but much skinnier.

  I put out my hand, “Hi.”

  He looked down at my hand and put his hand out as well and said, “Hi.”

  I moved my hand forward and clasped his. Shook up and down. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  The crowd cheered, and my father closed the ceremony. “Thanks to you all for showing up. We raised a lot of money for the schools. We’re three citizens more and I’m down 1000 dollars.” The crowd laughed and clapped. “Take care everybody.”

  My father walked off the stage, gave me a look and said, “Sivilize him quick. Then you can work off the 1000 you owe me.” He looked down at Spec, examining his property and then left without saying another word.

  I looked over at the boy and waved him over. “Come on, let me show you around.”

  I led him away from the City Center and took a seat on a nearby bench and motioned for him to do the same. He quickly caught on and took a seat. “We’ll just wait here until the crowd disperses.”

  He watched me closely. I knew he didn’t know the words I was saying, but I felt he understand what I meant. “You were born a savage, but I don’t know if that means you’ll always be one. I think, first I have to teach you our language, but I don’t know how to do that.”

  “I koundla understand, Joey.” He watched me closely, waiting for my response.

  “Are the other two your siblings? Cotta and Kaolin?”

  “Cotta and Kaolin are furalzos.”

  “What is furalzo?”

  “Furalzo.” He places his hand on my chest. His fingers were rough and calloused and strong. “Joey is Spec’s furalzo.” Placed his hand against his chest. “Spec is Joey’s furalzo.”

  I nodded my head. “Furalzo is friend. Friend is furalzo.”

  “Friend,” he said, smiling.

  “Furalzo,” I said back. “I think I’ll just talk and show you things and when you have something to say, you’ll just say it.”

  He watched me closely and nodded his head.

  ***

  I showed the boy the entire city, from the schools to the mall, to the police station. He was amazed wi
th everything and would touch whatever I showed him. He was fascinated with each brick on every building. What interested him the most was our farming sector with our greenhouses and UV lights. He acted as if he had never seen a plant before, let alone a potato.

  He looked at me like I was crazy as I took a bite out of a carrot. I handed him one and it took him awhile before he took a bite. He was astonished by its taste or texture or both.

  I then took him to the pens and he froze as he saw our pigs and chickens. He placed his hand on the chicken and looked over at me with a big smile.

  “We use the river to power our city. The water rushes through the mill and charges the turbine which then gets used to light the city and the plants. The river is our main source of water and the pipes beneath the city allow us to survive.”

  I walked over to a nearby hose and turned the faucet. Water squirted out onto the ground. He quickly jumped out and tried to stop the flow. He grabbed at the puddle beneath and attempted to place it back in the hose.

  “It’s okay. It’s just water.” I held the hose to his mouth and he took several big gulps. I gathered some of the water and combed my hair. He watched closely and did the same, but his hair was all over the place. “We need to get you a haircut I think.”

  I took Spec to the barber shop in the West district since it was the nicest. Not Brightens because they sometimes get lazy with their cuts but Stripes because they always gave 100 percent.

  I motioned Spec to the chair. He sat and watched curiously as the scissors cut each strand of hair. He grasped the side of the chair, waiting for some sort of pain but was astonished that he felt nothing.

  When the barber was done, Spec stood up and took a look at himself in the mirror. He was truly beautiful. A bit malnourished, but that would change after a few weeks of proper eating.

  ***

  I took Spec home and finally removed his chains. He seemed appreciative but didn’t know how to show it.

  He was dirty, and I needed to clean him up. I led him to the shower where I turned on the faucet and then disrobed him. He was completely unabashed with being nude because he had yet to learn humility.

  I motioned him into the shower while I squirted some shampoo into my hands and rubbed his scalp. He seemed hypnotized by the running water.

  I put my hand on the left handle and turned. “Hotter.” He felt the water get hot. I turned the right handle. “Colder.” The water cooled down. He placed his hand on the left handle and turned up the heat.

  I took the bar of soup and lathered up my hands and started washing his skin. I moved my hands down his chest and stomach and cleaned his waist and upper legs. He didn’t seem to mind, but I felt I shouldn’t continue cleaning in that area even though he didn’t care.

  “You should finish up.” I put the bar of soap in his hands and watched him closely as he finished showering. When he was done, I put the towel around him and dried his hair. I picked out some of my clothes, and I dressed him.

  We headed downstairs where our cook, Lucy, served us our dinner. Spec sat next to me while my eight year old sister, Kat, sat across from us. My father sat at the end of the table, sitting across from an empty spot where my mother would be sitting had she not died giving birth to my sister.

  “Let’s eat,” he announced as he always did every night. I put the fork and knife in Spec’s hand and showed him how to cut. He struggled grasping the utensils at first and whenever he had trouble scooping up some of the peas, he would resort to picking them up with his fingers.

  After dinner we went up to my room and I went around picking up various items and saying what each was. I had Spec repeat after me and he quickly began learning each item.

  He was especially interested in my speakers. I hooked up my iPod and played a song for him. He was in a daze, hand hovering over the outside, trying to gather every last remnant of the vibrations I could only imagine as being some magical and mystical force to him.

  “Have you ever heard music before?” He simply smiled at me and waved his hands, asking for more so I played another song. This time, he laughed. It was a mixture of excitement and giddiness. “It’s good, right? She was supposedly one of the best musicians of all time. Her name’s Miley Cyrus. You wanna hear more?” I played him another and again, I saw the excitement in his eyes. We may have spoken different languages, but I could still understand him. It’s interesting how he’s human but kind of not yet we still emote the same way.

  “We still need to get you a bed so you’ll be sleeping with me tonight.” I disrobed him and gave him a set of pajamas.

  He looked up at me and said, “Why are there different clothes?”

  I couldn’t help but smile. It had only been a day but already he was asking coherent questions.

  “These are for night.”

  “Night?”

  I put my hands against my head like a pillow. “For sleeping.” He didn’t seem satisfied by my response but put them on anyway.

  He got into bed and instantly fell asleep. I moved up beside him and hugged him like a teddy bear. He didn’t seem to mind.

  For a moment, I wondered about the series of events that had unfolded on the day. I thought about Spec and Cotta and Kaolin and fate and destiny. It was Spec’s destiny to wind up with me and the others’ fate to wind up where they wound up. In the midst of each of their journeys, they came across insignificant people, like the elderly lady whose name I can’t remember. If she didn’t exist or died awhile ago, the little girl would have still bought Cotta, just maybe for less money. In the grand scheme of things, that old lady didn’t matter at all, at least not to me and not to Cotta. She could have not existed and the same result would have occurred. There’s so much about life that’s insignificant. I wonder why?

  Well, I’m tired. I’m gonna sleep.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Six Months Later:

  It had been six months since I first found Spec. Everybody was shocked and delighted at how quickly it took the strangers to learn our language and customs. Several years before I was ever born, we had caught a few NaNas and tried incorporating them into our society. After a couple of years, they had only learned a few phrases and refused to adjust to our customs, so they were killed. Luckily, Spec did not suffer the same fate as them.

  “C’mon, we’ve gotta patrol the borders for father.” I picked up my knife while Spec grabbed his axe. He had constructed the tool a few months ago and actually helped excavate some new territory for our community. Before he could do so, however, he had to be taught about the harmful gasses within the city. Awhile back, while the city was being expanded, one of the miners released a pocket of flammable gas causing a small fire. Luckily, the tunnel he was working in collapsed and the flame was extinguished before it could do any harm to the city.

  “Why do we patrol the borders?” my inquisitive friend asked. “If there have been no NaNa sightings in years.”

  “We do it because people feel better knowing somebody is checking.” We headed out of the house and off toward the borders.”

  Bryan jumped out from behind a stone and yelled, “Freeze savage!” He playfully swiped his knife back and forth. “You’d be dead right now if I wanted to kill you.”

  James took out his knife and pressed it against Bryan’s throat. “And you’d be dead if I were a NaNa.”

  Bryan pushed the older kid away. “NaNas don’t have knives. Their claws are razor sharp so they don’t need them, duh!” He placed the knife between his fingers and swiped like it were a claw. “Rarwr!”

  “They don’t growl, you idiot,” James said dismissively.

  Bryan fought back. “How would you know, you never talked to one.”

  James pulled Spec to his side. “Well look at Spec. He’s as close to a NaNa that we’ve seen. Do you growl?”

  Spec watched him closely. “I don’t think I growl.”

  “He’s just saying that cause he don’t know what a growl is. Go grrrrrr.”

  Spec looked over a
t me. I simply shook my head. He stood silently, axe in hand.

  “The savage can’t think for himself!” declared Bryan. “It’s like two Joey’s.”

  “So what, two Joey’s are better than one,” I said. I looked over at Spec who watched me closely. I nodded my head and he said, “I agree.”

  James shook his head and walked out in front. “C’mon, I set up a target.”

  We followed behind James, along the outskirts of our city. When we got to the East District Throughway, we had to get on our hands and knees which upset me because I had just washed these pants.

  Bryan scraped his knee against the ground and yelped. “Why’d you set it up so far away?!”

  James rolled his eyes. “Because if anyone saw us we’d get in trouble.”

  We finally reached our little cove where James had set up a life-size dummy. “I go first. Since I’m the oldest,” he declared.

  James held the knife firmly in his hand and flung it forward, connecting with the dummy’s right arm.

  “My turn!” Bryan jumped in font of us and carelessly flung his knife ahead. It dropped several feet in front of the dummy. “That was just a practice throw, that doesn’t count!”

  He ran ahead and picked up the knife. Took a step back and threw again, this time, the knife soared to the left. “Tell me when we’re starting for real,” he yelled as he ran for his weapon.

  I stood in front of the dummy and raised my knife, aimed and flung it toward the lifeless being. The point connected with its leg. I smiled over at Spec who stared at me blankly. I smiled and nodded. He mirrored me.

  I ran and grabbed my knife. “Here, Spec. Just aim and throw.”

  “The savage can’t have a knife!” Bryan squealed. “He’s not allowed.”

  “And we’re not supposed to be doing what we’re doing,” James replied.

  Spec stood in front and aimed the knife. Put it down. “Why are we doing this?”

  “It’s target practice, Spec. Go on, throw it.”

  He raised the knife again, but hesitated one more time. “What are we practicing for?”

  James and Bryan were getting antsy, but it was my duty to sivilize Spec which meant answering all of his questions to the best of my ability.