Born and Raised

by R A Doty

  Sister Lucille sat in the back row with her brother, Peter. When she reached for his hand he pulled it away. “Peter, you have to hold my hand,” she whispered.

  “No I don’t. I’m too big to hold your hand anymore.”

  “You’re seven years old. I wouldn’t say that’s too old to hold your big sister’s hand. Now give me your hand or you’ll be sorry.”

  “What are you gonna do about it? You’re not my mother. Mommy’s dead.”

  “Peter!” Lucille reached down and spanked her brother. “Don’t ever say that again!”

  Peter put his hand on his bottom, his eyes beginning to tear. “I hate you, Lucy. I wish you were dead, too.”

  As Lucille grabbed her little brother’s hand, the doors behind them opened. Beams of sunlight flooded the great room. The singing stopped, and everyone turned toward the light. They squinted at the dark figure standing in the doorway, its body framed with sunshine.

  David Crullen slowly walked forward, followed by the five men and four women who had managed to survive the battle. With a trickle of dried blood streaming from his forehead to his chin, he glared at sister Lucille, whose hand was being tugged by her brother as the boy tried to pull free.

  Lucille lowered her head to avoid eye contact with David. She jerked her brother’s hand. “You stop it, right now!” she whispered loudly.

  Peter stood still, sensing his sister’s anger.

  David continued up the center aisle and stepped behind the pulpit with the nine men and women standing by his side. He placed his hands on his hips and stared at the congregation, his head twisting left and right, addressing each of his followers with a look in their eyes. After taking a deep breath, followed by an equally long exhale, he began to speak. “Sisters and brothers. We have failed. We have let you down, but not without trying.” He gripped the pulpit. “We were led into an impossible battle by none other than Satan, himself.” David shook his head. “We tried. God knows we tried. But our efforts were futile against an enemy we could not see. An enemy we could not hear. An enemy we could not defeat. How can any mortal man defeat Satan and his minions against such insurmountable odds?” He nodded. “There were bounties to be had, though. I saw them with my own eyes, brothers and sisters. Orchards filled with fruit, corrals brimming with livestock, coops stuffed with fowl, pens alive with swine—enough to feed an army for eternity.”

  David glanced at the men and women standing by his side. “These brave brothers and sisters gave everything they had, trying to bring this bountiful harvest to you. But everything wasn’t enough. Even the lives of our fallen brothers and sisters weren’t enough.”

  “What would be enough?” a man yelled.

  David turned toward him. “That’s a good question. We would need far more than we have to offer. It would take an army twice the size of our initial attempt. It would take a miracle from our great Lord, himself.” He slammed his fists on the pulpit. The older members, and some infants, who had nodded off, jumped to consciousness. A baby started crying. “But we can’t give up!” David yelled. “We have to continue if for no other reason than to not have let our fallen brothers and sisters death be in vain.”

  “Where will we get this army you speak of?” another man asked.

  “God will provide, my brother. We must be patient and wait for his sign.”

  “What are we gonna do for food in the meantime? We’re hungry, now. Our old are feeble, and our young are weak. How much longer can they survive?”

  From the back of the church, Peter pulled his hand away from his sister’s again.

  “Stop it, Peter,” Lucille whispered through gritted teeth.

  David turned in their direction. “You will eat tonight,” he said, his eyes fixated on Lucille and her brother. “We will all eat tonight.” He whispered something to two men standing next to him. One was a tall, gangly man with thinning gray hair, and the other a brute of a man, about six-foot-five, with long dark hair, who had entered the church when he heard David had returned. David had left this man behind to protect the congregation while he was gone. Because of the man’s size, it was a task he could easily handle alone. The two men headed toward the back of the church and stopped behind Lucille and Peter.

  David scanned the congregation. Gaunt faces stared back at him. Starving children sat beside worried parents. The elderly sat lifeless without hope for a future, their faces void of emotion. Husbands sat next to wives they couldn’t provide for. And it all fell on his lap, as each and every one of them trusted him to show them the way. He knew they were on the verge of rebellion, and there could be no more failures. He had to give them something—if only to provide temporary satisfaction until God spoke and led him on the right path. “We have a traitor amongst us,” he said. Heads turned toward each other, trying to locate the traitor. “A traitor that was once wholesome, pure, and willing to sacrifice all that was asked to help her fellow brothers and sisters, but is now concerned for non other than herself. She no longer has faith that our Father will protect her in times of need, and for that we must all come together and rid the devil from her mortal body and abolish her sins.” David nodded to the two men, and they grabbed Lucille and Peter and led them to him.

  “Please, David,” Lucille begged. “I do still have faith that our Father will protect us. I’ll do whatever you ask to prove it.”

  “You say that now, when your mortal life is in the balance, but where were you when we needed your strength to add to our numbers?” David faced his followers. “Where were you when we fought the devil, himself, for food so that our weak can become strong?”

  “Yeah,” where were you?” a voice yelled.

  “Peter and I will be strong for you, I promise.”

  “Oh, sister Lucille, it is not Peter that I question. He is young and innocent. He can be taught the way of the Lord. He can be trained to be strong.” David nodded to the tall, gangly man, and he, in turn, retrieved a metal rolling table from the front of the church. Its surface was clean except for a few stains, but layers of encrusted blood from previous “cleansings” had covered the legs. One of the wheels wobbled violently as the man pushed it. David then nodded to the dark haired, monster of a man, who then turned to Lucille.

  Lucille placed her hand on the man’s shoulder. “I beg you, Cain, I’ll do whatever you ask. Please don’t do this.”

  Cain considered taking the girl as his companion, but things were different from when David and the others had left for battle. He had grown accustomed to one of the female members that didn’t return, so he felt as though a part of him had been lost in the battle as well. He would no longer become attached to anyone and surviving would be his only priority, regardless of who got hurt along the way. Sympathy was no longer an emotion he would allow to control him. He glanced at Lucille, his face devoid of emotion.

  Lucille crossed her arms over her chest. Her body shivered as if it was a cold winter’s day, but it wasn’t. The inside of the church was about ninety degrees, and the pungent scent of aged wood and death reeked heavy in the air.

  “Leave her alone,” Peter yelled, punching Cain’s leg as he reached for Lucille.

  Cain barely felt the taps on his thigh. He looked down at the boy. A tiny flea, he thought, and then flicked him away with the push of his arm.

  David grabbed Peter and held him tight. “Continue,” he said.

  Cain took Lucille’s arm and pulled her toward the table.

  Lucille fought and managed to dig her nails across his face, but she was no match for his strength. He slammed her, face up, on the table and held her down with his thick arm.

  Peter tried to break free from David to help his sister. “Lemme go!”

  “Shhh,” David said, gripping the boy tightly and kissing the top of his head. “You will have your turn to shine, my son.”

  Tears welled in Lucille’s eyes, her face burning with the fear building inside of her. This is actually happening. I’m gonna die. “David, please. Don’t do this. Petey
needs me.”

  “You still don’t understand, sister Lucille,” David said. “Brother Peter doesn’t need any one of us. We are all his family and he will always have us, as we will all have each other. That’s what makes us strong—being able to count on each other. But we couldn’t count on you, could we? You chose not to accept us, and you thought you could do better on your own, but just look where that got you.”

  Lucille shook her head. “I’ve learned, David. I swear I have. Please give me another chance to prove myself.”

  “It’s too late, sister Lucille. We could never depend on you again. I need to be strong and do what must be done.”

  Cain removed a machete from a sheath on his belt and scraped his thumb across the edge. It had to be sharp to sever the jugular with one slice. Three streaks of blood highlighted the deep scratches on the side of his face—compliments of Lucille. He leaned close and pressed the knife to her neck.

  “Wait!” David yelled. He guided Peter to the table. “I’m sorry, Cain, but this honor belongs to brother, Peter.” He held out his hand, and Cain gave him the machete. “Here, my son,” David said, handing Peter the weapon. “You should be the one to rid your sister of the evil that hides inside of her.” Peter wouldn’t touch the weapon, but David pushed it in his hand and made him take it. “You must be strong, Peter, and do what has be done,” David said.

  Peter tried to back away from the table. “I won’t do it!” David and Cain blocked his path. He dropped the machete, ran back to his sister, and wrapped his arms around her neck.

  Lucille cried as her brother nuzzled his face next to hers. She kissed his head and savored the moment, knowing it would be their last together. She knew she had no chance of surviving, so she had to be strong for him. He had to be strong or he would be next. She cradled his face with her hands and lifted his head. “It’s okay, Petey,” she said, forcing a smile. “Will you do something for me, little brother?”

  Peter nodded with a sniffle. His eyes glossed with tears.

  “Will you help me find Mother in heaven? I want to go to her, and I can’t do it without your help.”

  “What do I have to do?”

  Lucille stroked his cheek with the back of her hand. “You have to take the knife and slide it on my neck for me.”

  Peter shook his head, tears running down his face.

  “You have to Peter. It’s the only way I can be with mother.”

  “I don’t want you to die, Lucy.”

  “I’ll still be alive in heaven, and some day we’ll all be together again, I promise.”

  “You swear?”

  Lucille nodded. It took all her strength to hold back her tears. “I swear.” She nodded to David, who picked up the machete and handed it to Peter. She then guided her brother’s hand and tilted her head sideways so the long blade was positioned just right. All that was needed was a slight push forward—the weight of the weapon and its razor sharp edge would do the rest. She looked at her little brother with a smile. “I’m ready to find mother, Petey. Just push forward to send me to her.” She barely felt the incision, as Peter slid the knife forward. A warm liquid ran down her neck to her chest, changing the color of her shirt from white to crimson. She locked her eyes on her brother’s face until the life drained from her body and she was too weak to keep them open. His sobs were the last thing she heard.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “YOUR EYES GAVE YOU away,” Aaron said, entering April’s pen. “They’re beautiful.” He quietly closed the door behind him.

  April backed up, her heart exploding in her chest. Her breathing quickened and her body trembled.

  Aaron shook his head. “No, no, no. Please don’t be frightened.”

  April backed into the corner. She looked left and then right, but there was no place to turn.

  “Calm down,” Aaron said, his hands in the air. “You don’t have to be afraid of me. I just want to talk to you. I couldn’t stop thinking about you when we met at the Visualplex this afternoon, and then I remembered where I saw you before.” He sat on the bunk to seem less threatening.

  April stood silent, her head facing the floor. She glanced at Aaron from the corner of her eye and then back to the floor. Her breathing steadied, and her heartbeat began to slow.

  “I promise I’m not going to hurt you,” Aaron said. “How did you learn to speak?”

  April said nothing, her attention focused on a crack in the concrete floor. For a few seconds she wondered why she had never noticed it before. It was her way of avoiding what was happening. Her attention went back to Aaron when he spoke again.

  “Did Calla and Sarah teach you?”

  There was no response to the question.

  “I won’t tell anyone. That’s not why I’m here.”

  “Then why are you here,” April said, glancing up briefly.

  Aaron shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not really sure, to be honest with you. I guess it’s because you fascinate me. There’s so much that I want to know. Like how did you learn to speak? And why are you still locked in this pen when you’re obviously not like the others?” He patted the mattress. “Please. Sit down. I won’t hurt you, I promise.”

  April slowly walked to the bunk and sat as far away from Aaron as possible.

  Aaron scooted a little closer. “I meant what I said. I’m not going to tell anyone about you.”

  April studied the young man seated just a few feet away. His face didn’t look threatening and his voice sounded sincere.

  “What else do you know?” Aaron continued. “How long have you been able to speak?” He looked toward the small window in the door. “Can any of the others speak?”

  April shook her head.

  Aaron should have been upset, having lost years of desensitizing himself to the nutrimen, but instead he felt excited as he looked at April. “I just can’t believe it, a talking nutrimen. It’s amazing. Can you read, or spell, or do mathematics?”

  April nodded. “Yes. Je peux aussi parler français.”

  Aaron smiled. “What?”

  “I can also speak French.”

  “That’s incredible! Can you speak any other languages?”

  April hesitated and then smiled. She was proud of her accomplishments and was more than happy to reveal what she had learned. “También puedo hablar español. I can also speak Spanish.”

  “That is so amazing. You’re name’s April, isn’t it?”

  April nodded.

  “How did you get a name when all the others have numbers?”

  Aaron’s question made April remember what she really was. She wasn’t a girl like Calla and Sarah. She was a number like the others. She wasn’t meant to speak, or go out into the world, or to have feelings. She was meant to live in a concrete cage and to be raised like an animal. There was no life waiting for her from beyond the confines of the fence, and she had no right to have dreams like a real girl. But she was no longer like the other nutrimen, either. She was a freak of nature. Yes, that’s what she was. “That’s what Calla named me,” she said. “I don’t know why.”

  “It’s a pretty name. It suits you. You’re a pretty girl.”

  April jumped off the bed and ran to the corner of the room. “I’m not a girl!” she yelled, facing the corner.

  Aaron began to walk toward her.

  “Stay away from me!”

  He stopped. “I’m sorry if I said something to offend you.”

  April raised her hand to her mouth. Water dripped from her eyes and onto her arm. She had never cried before and was confused by her emotions. “Please leave.”

  “I’m sorry for upsetting you,” Aaron said.

  April sniffled and wiped her eyes. “Go now.”

  “Okay, I’m leaving. Goodbye, April.”

  As Aaron left April’s pen, Manolin’s face appeared in his pen’s small window. He watched the strange man leave the kennel, and then looked over at April’s door.

  SARAH WAS ON HER WAY to the kitchen to grab a snack befor
e dinner when the doorbell rang. She stopped suddenly and took a right toward the front door. When she opened it Calla was standing on the porch with her parents. “Hi guys, come on in,” she said. She and Calla exchanged a quick hug. “Mother’s in the kitchen, and Father’s in his office, Mr. Wilkinson.”

  “Thank you, Sarah,” Donald Wilkinson said. “I think I’ll go find him. There are a few things we need to go over before dinner.”

  “I’ll see if Melanie needs a hand,” Jillian Wilkinson said, heading to the kitchen.

  Sarah yelled to her mother. “When are we eating, Mother?”

  “In a little while, dear.”

  Sarah decided against the pre-dinner snack now that Calla and her parents had arrived. She grabbed Calla’s hand. “Come on. Let’s go to my room.” She led Calla through the living room and down the hall. When she neared her father’s office she heard him raising his voice, so she stopped just past the doorway.

  “I don’t know what else to do, Don,” her father said. “We tried repeatedly to contact Mr. Steinberg without any success.”

  Sarah snuck closer to the door, still holding Calla’s hand. The two girls listened as Sarah’s father continued.

  “Unfortunately, there’s not much more I can do at this point. We have to initiate our back-up plans; there’re no other options.”

  “I hoped it wouldn’t come to this, Bill,” Calla’s father replied. “It seems premature to begin harvesting the nutrimen at fifteen. And is that even going to make a difference?”

  “Well, don’t forget that we can start harvesting the smaller, weaker ones immediately as well.”

  Sarah and Calla faced each other with widened eyes and open mouths. “What about April?” Calla whispered.