Garden : A Dystopian Horror Novel

by Carol James Marshall

  BD seemed satisfied, even pleased, to don his. Chandler’s jaw was clenched, her eyes in a squint; she put hers on gingerly, as if bandaging a disgusting rash.

  “If they aren’t wearing one of these, shoot them,” said a man to Jen’s left.

  “No yellow band means POP! You’re dead!” said a woman ahead of Jen. The woman said it with a smile.

  Jen held her breath. If her parents were alive, they wouldn’t have armbands. The workers didn’t have yellow armbands. Did they deserve to die? They were victims, not villains.

  “But some of them are innocent,” Jen blurted, almost a scream. BD swung around, eyes fixed on Jen, zeroing in on her within the crowd that surrounded her.

  Three quick steps and BD wrapped his arms around Jen, hustling her away from the crowd. Jen didn’t struggle against BD, but she said nothing more. She knew what had scared him into snatching her away from the people of The Hills.

  You were either with them or against them. There could be no middle ground. No one was innocent. All were guilty. Charged by a jury of people who had no idea what it was like to be forced into labor for housing, for your fix of a drug you’d been forced to take.

  In order to get to Madam, the crowd before her—her human shields—had to be cleared. In that crowd would be causalities. Some would die, so others could live.

  But how to decide who dies? Who lives? Were the people of The Hills more worthy of life than those inside Nutri-Corp City?

  It was too much, and Jen crumbled onto the grass, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. She did not feel more worthy of life than a Nutri-Corp worker. She could not be a judge or jury for the rest of mankind.

  BD quickly melted back into the crowd, and Jen curled on her side, watching boots for Chandler or Lola, wondering if she would be with this “army” when it left.

  The feeling of being ready for a fight filled BD’s chest, making his hands tremble from adenaline. The grip on his Shaky never wavered, though. He was ready to throw down with Madam, itching to take her on himself for years of forcing YUM down his throat.

  The energy of the crowd gathering to storm into Nutri-Corp City was popping. He could sense in the air their resolve to end things with Madam. He wanted to be part of what brought her down. For too long he had been one of her cogs, nothing but a thing that helped work her machine.

  BD wanted to take a sledgehammer to Madam’s head, and this crowd, these people, would get him there.

  While the people had prepared for battle, BD had listened in on their talk. He had learned that The Hills had a spy in Nutri-Corp City. This asset would divert Nutri-Corp officers away from the city to the Gardener camp and would open the back gates to allow them unimpeded access to the city. And to Madam.

  Those Nutri-Corp officers sent to the Gardener camp were to retrieve Danny and Dolly, and that unsettled BD. That was information he should share with the sisters. He should tell Jen about Danny and his sister.

  Instead, BD walked away from the sisters who had taken him in. They had allowed him to rest and detox in their trailer at the Gardener camp without question. They given him his space and their patience, but now, BD hid from the sisters, became nothing more than a part of the crowd, withholding information they would want to have.

  BD asked himself, isn’t not telling the same as lying?

  BD couldn’t ponder that question; that would be philosophical. Instead, he would be a man of action. He’d charge, using Nutri-Corp's own weapon against anyone without a yellow armband. He wished the Gardeners well, but in all wars there are casualties. Sacrifices had to be made for the majority to live.

  BD spotted Chandler in one of the first trucks lined up to go. He ran to that vehicle and jumped into the bed of the truck. He leaned over the side of the truck bed until he caught the driver’s eye in the side mirror. BD nodded, and the truck roared to life and lurched forward.

  Danny frowned at Dolly, at the blue sky, the over-grown brush, his shoes, his life, and his frown deepened when he looked at Robert, Jacob, and Manuel. Each of them had dressed in camo and had a backpack slung on their shoulders. They were leaving.

  “Come with us. We’ll find safety. Far away from here,” Manuel said.

  Danny knew what he said might be true. They might find safety, if that was still a thing in the world. Being shut off in Nutri-Corp City and Madam’s land and away from the rest of the world, Danny wasn’t sure what was really out there. It could be the land of milk and honey or desolate, barren…or full of Poppers waiting for their next fix.

  Dolly squirmed but stayed silent. Good, Danny needed to think, and to do that he couldn’t contend with her right now.

  Robert cleared his throat and said, “It’s now or never, son. We’ve got to go. The Nutri-Corp officers will be here any moment. The drones will be the advance guard. They might not shoot you two, but they’ll kill us.”

  Kill us. Such poignant words. Such truth to them. Danny knew Madam would probably kill all the Gardeners. Every single one.

  “She will kill all of you,” Danny said.

  Manuel nodded. “We know,” was all he said before he tugged Jacob’s hand and walked straight into a thick patch of woods. Robert followed, placing one hand on his son’s back. He didn’t bother to look back and see if Danny and Dolly followed.

  Jacob did look back. A stricken look of grief replaced his endlessly happy expression. He did not understand why he had to leave home, didn’t know where his friends would be tonight, or didn’t get why people kept hurting other people. Jacob only knew to go where his fathers told him to go, to follow his fathers wherever they went.

  Suzy’s dirt-smudged face kept popping up in Jacob’s thoughts as he followed his parents. The memory of the feel of her grubby hand in his almost brought a smile to his face. When he remembered her, he felt better. He would need all the good memories he could get now. That much Jacob understood.

  Dolly yanked at Danny to get him to follow Robert and Manuel, but Danny’s feet were glued to the spot. They would not budge, no matter how much his brain commanded them to. Danny knew they should move, that they should take the chance Robert would find a safe place. His heart had other ideas. The expectation that Jen would come back for him locked his feet into place.

  Danny heard a drone buzz by his head. Before he had the ability to react, because his mouth was as frozen as his feet, Dolly had a clear view of Shaky beads smacking into the back of Robert’s head.

  “Too late,” was all Robert got out before he fell. Robert didn’t bother with remorse or regret. He understood there was no surviving a Shaky. He simply fell to the ground without resistance, tightly closing his eyes, not wanting in the seconds he had left to witness what Manuel’s and Jacob’s reactions would be. He couldn’t handle watching Manuel run from him, which Robert knew he had to do. He had to run. Manuel couldn’t stop to help Robert because there was no helping Robert. Manuel would know he had to protect Jacob. That was his job now, his only job.

  Robert had often said, “There is no out to this but death.”

  The searing pain in his head was so intense that Robert forgot who he was, what he was. He almost opened his eyes.

  He knew enough to comprehend a second Shaky hit him, cracking his skull fully open, the beads taking only seconds to vibrate his brain to mush. A third and a forth strike cracked bone, turning them to dust. Right before he knew nothing more, Robert’s eyes flashed open. By that time Robert was not Robert but merely disintegrating lungs, heart, stomach still trying to work for their keeper, not knowing what happened beyond them.

  Jacob knew Robert was gone maybe before Robert understood that. Now, it was Jacob’s job to save his last living parent. Jacob yanked his father’s hand, turning him and running back the way they’d come, to where Danny stood, eyes wide, Dolly screaming by his side.

  Jacob’s free hand grasped Dolly, and he ran headlong to the back of the sisters’ trailer. He squatted and let go of both his father and the girl. Jacob removed a panel that led to
a crawl space under the trailer. He pointed at it to Dolly, who quickly went in, then Manuel. Jacob looked up and saw Danny, face wet with tears, his mouth gaping. Jacob pointed again, Danny got on his hands and knees and crawled in.

  The last one in, Jacob replaced the panel. It was dark inside, though some light slipped past the narrow slits between the panels. Jacob motioned for everyone to lie down. He put his hands to his lips to show Dolly she had to be quiet.

  She copied his action. No more screams. Not a squeak.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  My Darling Dear

  Sir took a martini glass from the ornate cabinet. He smirked. Everything was ornate in this house. He had put on some jazz music in the background, changed into his silk pajamas and robe. For good measure, he added a splash of Madam’s favorite men’s cologne, something that was now hard to find and considered a treat.

  Sir, formerly Joe, now merely Joe again, had set the stage for Madam's homecoming.

  Shaking his martini, Joe happily hummed, bracing himself for Madam to come home in a huff. She would surely be outraged, but Sir was ready. He would play innocent of the knowledge he’d diverted her troops to the Gardener camp, innocent of the knowledge her best spy lay dead and by now probably had a nice rot to him.

  Joe would give an Oscar-worthy performance of a loving husband, believing all was well in their nest. He'd convince her that her Nutri-Corp officers would bring Dolly and Danny back soon, before she could even think about it.

  Put your worries aside, he’d tell her. Have a drink, my darling dear.

  Madam arrived home with a slam of the front door. It was a slam of purpose. A slam of wrath, ill intent, and junior high school teenage drama.

  Joe enjoyed that slam. He was loving how much everything that he had set up would anger Madam. Well, he couldn’t take credit for Danny and Dolly’s departure. That was pure luck.

  “Our children are missing,” was all Madam said as she came into the living room, snatching Joe’s drink out of his hand. She chugged it and threw the expensive glassware across the room.

  Joe did not flinch, but he would mourn that particular martini glass. Products like that were hard to find in the world of YUM.

  “Don’t worry. Trust your officers. They’ll bring them back. While we wait, let’s...” Joe flamboyantly flung off his slippers. “Let’s enjoy some time to ourselves.”

  Madam huffed, anger boiling behind her eyes. Joe met her gaze but did not acknowledge the fury brimming inside her.

  Instead, he retrieved another glass from the cabinet and poured himself another drink. Again, he hummed, on purpose and loudly as Madam paced the room like a caged tiger pondering eating the zookeeper.

  “He took Dolly,” Madam said, as she paced. “That’s unforgivable. He shouldn’t have removed her from here. At home, she’s in a controlled environment. I can contain her here.”

  Madam stopped pacing and quieted, folding her arms over her chest. She stared off into the nothing of their living room.

  Joe let Madam’s words sink in: “controlled environment,” “contain her.” Those were not the words of a worried mother. Those words were clinical. Handing Madam a drink, Joe allowed his question to slide out. He didn’t want to startle her mouth shut. He hoped his calm demeanor and the liquor would untie her tongue.

  “What do you mean controlled environment?” Joe asked. He lounged in his favorite chair, watching Madam for signs, but of what he did not know.

  Madam threw her hands up, giving Joe a look of disgust. Or maybe it was pity. For once, he was not sure.

  “Dolly is not like everyone else who was on YUM,” Madam growled.

  “Was?” said Joe, head cocked to the side, martini glass dangling from his fingers, feet up, his face wearing a soft smile that could turn smug at any moment.

  Madam sat on the sofa and ran her hands through her hair then uncharacteristically resting her face in her hands after. Joe felt his heart skip a beat. He almost had her where he needed her to be, but this new information about Dolly was too intriguing to ignore. After all, she was biologically his daughter.

  “My dear, my darling dear, please explain.” Joe’s words poured from his mouth like sugar into a cake, and he waited for her to lie to him. She had never, ever told him the truth. He added, “The truth, dear. For once.”

  Madam took her hands from her face and looked at him. She purred, “Do not act like you do not know.”

  “Indulge me, darling, please.” He smiled and winked at her but thought of the pistol he had hidden in a pair of hunting boots in the closet and how much he wanted to shove the barrel into her ear. Click, BOOM, her brilliant mind would be spread out all over the furniture and the floor along with the shattered remains of his favorite martini glass.

  Mournfully, Madam responded, “Dolly is different. I must watch her. She must be dosed. Her reaction to YUM is not like the others.”

  Madam stood up and screamed. A scream of horror. A scream that almost shook Joe’s martini glass from his fingers.

  “She was never to be let out!” Madam wailed, her face raw from the emotion behind her screams. No, it was more than that. Raw with fear.

  Joe saw fear in her eyes. Real fear. He put his martini glass down.

  Lola had felt every bump in the road as they traveled to Nutri-Corp City. She had felt every bump, heard every blast, every scream.

  When she’d returned to the town center from dropping off Suzy, she’d gotten separated from Jen and swept up in the people of The Hills heading out. There had been no time to find Chandler. There had been no sight of Jen. She could not find BD in the crowd.

  The frantic sensation of “hurry up” had surrounded her. She’d had no time, not even a moment, to think about what to do, where to go.

  Afraid of being left behind, Lola had gotten into the first car she could find. She’d told herself she’d find Jen in Nutri-Corp City. She’d convinced herself that somewhere in the crowd Chandler would appear.

  Now, she stood in Nutri-Corp City in a curtain of smoke from blasts from guns. Shakies made no smoke, but the people from The Hills didn’t have Shakies. They had pistols and rifles. Primitive but effective. The gun smoke made her eyes water, fogged her brain. Blinking back tears, Lola stared dumbfounded at a sign in front of her.

  There was a photo of a pregnant woman in a YUM advertisement. Lola’s squinted, trying to see more into the sign than there was.

  Nutri-Corp elite had run from the hospital. Numb, Lola had watched as people from The Hills shot the elite as they ran. Bodies of the unarmed Nutri-Corp elite dropped all around her, and Lola wondered why they hadn’t shot her. The armband. The yellow armband was her body armor. She looked at the bodies but did nothing except step over them.

  They did not have the yellow armband, so they got shot. It was a simple equation. Lola wondered if Madam's henchmen would come drag these bodies away for one of her fancy dinner parties.

  As Lola was about to step into the hospital, a woman, arms flailing, ran outside. A few paces behind that woman came another one, with a yellow armband and a Shaky in her hands.

  Lola turned when she heard the pop, the fact that the woman without the armband was so close to her dawning on her. Lola sucked in her breath. What if one of those beads hit her?

  The woman, blonde, crisp suit, the reddest of red lipsticks looked at Lola, a look of relief on her face. That expression faded, and the woman looked at her hand. She screamed as the beads burrowed up her arm. The material of the woman’s suit began to shred over her chest, as more beads found their target. The beads would be in her lungs soon, Lola knew. Maybe she'd get lucky and suffocate quickly. The body began to jerk as if the woman had the worst set of tics ever, and it began to almost fold in on itself as it crumpled to the ground.

  The yellow arm-banded woman who shot the other woman let out a triumphant whoop.

  Walking past the wiggling body of the Nutri-Corp woman, Lola headed for the elevators. She could not decide which was worse: the N
utri-Corp woman’s screams of pain or the gleeful whoop of The Hills woman.

  Each wrought different emotions, Lola thought as she pushed the elevator button. The screams of pain and anguish had made Lola's skin crawl, but the joyous cry of The Hills woman was so much worse. The memory of it made Lola feel foul, as if she did not deserve every breath she took. The elevator came, and she got inside, finding the button for the floor she wanted. Her humanity lay dormant under the corpses now scattered on the hospital's first floor.

  When the elevator stopped, Lola stepped out and headed for the maternity ward, wondering with each step what she was doing and why.

  Jen gulped air. She sat against a building in The Hills, clawing at her throat, wanting to rip her soul out. The legions of Hill people had left, gone to attack Nutri-Corp City. Jen was still in town. She was not left behind. She was not told to stand her ground here.

  When Jen had heard the roar of car and truck engines, something inside of her had flipped. Instead of walking towards the fight, she’d hidden from it. She had spied her sister getting into one of the cars, but she could not join her sister or the people of The Hills. Instead, Jen fled to hide herself behind a dumpster until the last vehicle had left town. Then, she’d walked.

  She walked and walked until everything grew still, quiet, the sounds of the vehicles fading. Jen had collapsed on a sidewalk, back to a wall, hands now at her own throat.

  Why had she done this? What had she done?

  What now? What now?

  Her questions were not the “what now” of what to do next. Jen knew what she wanted to do next. What she did not know was how to live with herself after.

  Mrs. Ortiz stood by the bathroom door, listening to Suzy hum while she took a bath. Mrs. Ortiz said nothing to the girl about scrubbing her knees, though she had intended to point that out. The girl’s knees were crusted with dirt, but playing in the tub would take care of that. With a smile, Mrs. Ortiz Instead walked away to sit on a chair near her favorite window and count her blessings for the fourth time that day.