The Roar (The Roar Series Book 1)

by A. M. White

  For my boys, I will love you long after this world is gone.

  Chapter One

  My eyes didn’t want to open. If I opened them, I would have to face my life all over again. Each day, a reflection of the last, with the only differences being what was taken from us. Everyone knew that eventually we would be stripped of everything, harvested down to nothing.

  I sighed and sat up. I knew that if I didn’t get up and head out to my assignment, I would lose even more the next time the roar sounded. My feet tested the dirt floor. It was cold, but not wet today, that was a plus.

  The cot creaked as I pulled on the dark jumpsuit and chunky boots that appeared after the sound took our own clothes. Our individual clothes had been one of the last freedoms we had been allowed in this world. I tied my unruly hair on top of my head.

  No one cares how they look anymore. We are all the same, slaves to the sound all around us. It is watching us and radiates through us. I sighed, wondering if I would be given directions or have something taken next time. That is how it worked.

  I grabbed my shovel and covered my eyes as the plywood door slammed shut behind me. My lunch pail sat on the ground exactly where it was every day, magically appearing some time during the night.

  The only people we ever saw were in our work crews. Sometimes that changed, but the job itself didn’t. I figured that was the way it was; everyone worked within their circles. It only made sense that there had to be people that prepared our food, replenished our cleaning stations, and, of course, disposed of the unwanted people. There had to be a massive invisible infrastructure to run a work camp this size.

  We dug massive pits in the ground. Many left gaping and waiting for purpose. Some days, holes would be filled. I tried to not think about the possibility that bodies might be hidden beneath the surface. The thought bothered me that I could have dug a hole for people I knew, even my family.

  Today, I would be digging on the south side of the plot in front of me. I had been given the message yesterday, during the latest roar. It was always the same in the beginning. Several repetitive booms spread and then a full blown roar that would wrap around everything. The first thing I feel is the ground vibrating. It spreads through my body and is paralyzing.

  The pain is excruciating and then I black out. During that time, I am given instructions or something is taken.

  I imagine it is the same for everyone, because upon waking we are all on the ground moaning and groaning as we get back to a standing position. Most people have learned what happens if you don’t follow the instructions. You usually lose more, maybe something you care about, maybe someone you care about. That is why I don’t care about anything anymore.

  I don’t know how the sound knows when someone doesn’t follow instructions. No one has ever told me what is making the noise or where it is coming from. Of course, I figured there was someone operating the sound, orchestrating the control over what was left of the people.

  A few other people dressed in jumpsuits emerged from their shacks lining the work zone. The land inside this area was cleared and barren. I kept my head down, listening to my boots crunching through the gravel and dirt. The morning was cool and nothing moved besides us. No bird or animal ever came here.

  At the end of the plot, I looked down into a ditch. It was disheartening to know that my instructions were to dig until I hit bedrock. At least I knew that I wouldn’t be taken anytime soon because this would be a long job. The people assigned the same job as me slowed as they came upon the hole. Looking down upon the task ahead of us, I am sure they were feeling the same weariness.

  No one talked while we climbed and slid down the sides of the ditch to the bottom. I worked hard, feeling sweat run down my back, even in the cool air. I could hear the people around me breathing and shovels hitting the ground over and over.

  I felt someone watching me. Between strokes, I kept my head down but darted my eyes around to make sure no one was up to something odd. I want to do my job and go back to my little shack. My goal was to draw as little attention to me as possible. If I can somehow get through this and die peacefully in my cot one night, I’d be happy.

  Some people lose it. They break from having everything taken. When they break, it usually means people die or disappear. I had seen people lose their grip, becoming mad from the solitude and pressure.

  The screaming could be terrible, like finger nails that tear at my skin. When that happened, there was nothing else in the world I wanted, but for it to stop.

  I’d decided a long time ago that I’d rather die than disappear. Who knows what happened to you if you simply vanished? Usually, if the person was able-bodied, they would be erased, never to be seen again. From time to time, an example was made of an attempted escapee or a person that refused to work. The mutilated body would be put on display, tied to a spike in the work field for all to see.

  There was a man behind me, watching my back as I worked. He was digging and watching me. I could feel it. I turned to the side to size him up. I didn’t think I’d noticed him here before. His dark hair completely hid his eyes as he dug. His arms tensed each time he pulled the shovel from the ground. His jumpsuit matched mine, so nothing about him stood out. He seemed stable. He wasn’t mumbling to himself or making any twitchy movements.

  I glanced over briefly and noticed his foot slide against the dirt to nudge a girl working at his side. This struck me as even more strange. It is one thing for a random person to lose their cool or sanity. However, communication between workers, that could be even worse, especially if you cared about them. As a rule of thumb, communication led to disappearing, not death.

  I turned my back to them and continued digging out the bottom of the pit. Not too fast, not too slow, just enough to not draw attention. The time always went by so slowly.

  Digging was mundane business, but it had made me stronger. My shoulders had broadened over the years and I found that I was able to put in a day’s work without being too sore come quitting time.

  The silence had given me all the time I would ever need to sort my thoughts. I often drifted back through memories recalling moments like pictures, so I wouldn’t forget the way things were. It was hard to believe that this world had been so different just a few years ago.

  The human race went about our business of trying to find happiness and enjoying choice with our families and friends. Humans had taken everything for granted. We polluted, pillaged, and blew each other up. This was our Earth and, for the most part, nations weren’t held accountable for their own screw-ups. That was until the day the Earth woke up and we were all held accountable. It had begun as a low rumble years ago only audible if you hushed the people in your vicinity.

  I remember turning my head to the sound back then and was hoping that someone else had heard it. If so, that meant I wasn’t crazy. I wish I had been.

  Now, the thundering pulse ran across the land and made people stop in their tracks. We all listened and waited with bated breath.

  Once, the people had stopped to listen out of curiosity. Now, we all stopped, paralyzed by the sound, and not in fear but by the thunderous roar emanating around us.

  The sound demanded we stop. It wanted something from us, always.

  Chapter Two

  I slowly climbed out of the hole. I dug my boots into the grit and used my shovel to pull myself up. The pit was now over my head in depth. We had made a dent in the Earth today.

  I noticed the man scrambling clumsily from the side, before the girl popped out. He walked quickly, but not too far ahead of her. They seemed to know each other, not just from the nudge I had witnessed, but as though they were something to each other. That was dangerous business.

>   I felt it then, the first rumble in a series. Someone near me gasped. Was it the girl from the hole? I dropped my shovel. I had learned to drop it away from me before the final roar in a series of roars. Waking up with a shovel under my head with a new knot to show for it or having it jabbed in my ribs a few times, taught me that lesson.

  Another, louder rolling boom rang out and several other shovels hit the ground around me. I guess they had all gone through the same lesson at some point. My eyes scanned the ground to make sure I wouldn’t end up bruised on anything.

  Then the final roar came. I felt it in my legs, holding me still. A fire began inside of me running from the ground up my spine and into my head. Screams swirled around me and I’m not sure if they came from my mouth or the others around me.

  The pain was blinding and seared through my brain. Just when I thought it would kill me, it stopped, leaving me in silent darkness. Words came through the darkness, red flashes spelled out instructions. My mind caught each word and ran them together upon waking. This was the normal way. The last word flashed in my mind and I felt my eyes slowly creep open.

  “Stay in the south plot tomorrow night”, the words placed themselves in order as I rolled into a seated position. I breathed out heavily, more work! That meant no sleep tomorrow night.

  Everyone began to stand and continue on their way to their shacks. I scanned the area quickly to see if anyone I worked with today had disappeared. I lost sight of them during the roar. The man and the girl were gone. I stood and took longer than I should’ve to search the plot for the dark hair that both of them had.

  Had the slight communication between the two of them resulted in them being taken?

  Chapter Three

  I opened the cabinet, the only cabinet in the shack, to find my dinner wrapped in a cloth napkin. It appears every night, just as my lunch does in the mornings. My mind flitted for a second wondering how it gets there, only to be pulled back from the dangerous thought. I don’t care how it appears. I only care that it is there and I need it. I plopped on the edge of the cot and greedily opened the satchel to find the standard biscuits and dried meat.

  The tough meat and stale bread hardly got chewed as I choked it down. I tore the last biscuit and noticed something fall to the ground. I bent down close to the floor, while still trying to swallow the hard bread in my mouth. I retrieved the object without looking at it. It was a thin piece of paper. It was slippery between my fingers, moist from humidity in the satchel.

  I remembered paper. We had it before the rumblings began. It was among the first things taken away. I could only guess it was because we could communicate with it. The very first to disappear happened within days of the first rumblings. Then, all technology went so there was no way for anyone to communicate across any distance. Paper was confiscated during a roar around that time. Everyone was secluded.

  Next, all modes of transportation ceased to function. Cars littered every road and highway. They were frozen in time and abandoned by any survivors.

  Luckily, planes were grounded when the technology went away, so they didn’t fall from the sky. The fear of that was terrifying to me.

  After that, the land was broken into sectors and we were quarantined with instructions during roars. In the beginning, a lot of people tried to not listen. They tried to run and were either found dead or just disappeared altogether. This worked as a very persuasive way to get the rest of us to comply.

  The paper felt so thin in my fingers. I could barely remember the feel of it. There were markings on it, I could feel the indentations. The edges were torn roughly. This was just a small bit off of a larger piece. I pulled it close to my eyes and stopped, listening for any reason to not unfold it. Silence was my only company.

  Carefully, I flattened it in my hand. I noticed the calluses from digging on my fingers and palms. For just a second, a picture of my thin and soft hands flashed in my mind. I guess the old me still remain buried somewhere inside and I couldn’t forget.

  Sometimes, I wanted to forget it all, my family, the way they looked the last time I saw them, the way I looked in a mirror when I was all done up, and our home and it’s warm embrace around me. I needed to forget in order to survive times when it was too hard to bear.

  “I will be there tomorrow night”, was scribbled on to the scrap of paper.

  Without thinking, I tossed it in my mouth, quickly, in case I was being watched. I hope that anyone watching would think it was just a bit of the biscuit that fell from my meal.

  I took a deep breath and went about business as usual. Robotically, I followed my normal routine.

  What was this? “Plop”, one boot hit the floor. Who was this? “Plop”, second boot off. Why was someone going to be there? I shook the jumpsuit off. Did this have anything to do with the man and the girl from today?

  I recalled the footprints in the dirt that heading toward the woods on the outskirts of the camp. I splashed water on my face from the basin in the corner of the room. The basin water was refreshed daily, but there was no sign of where it came from. I’m not sure if I wanted to know how it came to be there. The routine, I know, is safe. The message was not part of the routine, which made it inherently dangerous.

  I pushed the note from my thoughts. I have to stay alive. I can’t do something dangerous. Someone somewhere will make this end. I am only a small pawn in a much larger picture.

  I crawled onto the cot and pulled the burlap sheet over my shoulder. It scratched my neck as I turned on my side. Thank goodness the tight shirt and leggings I had protected the rest of me from the burlap. I recalled the first nights I was made to use it. Something as little as my own blankets taken kept me awake several nights, until I succumbed to exhaustion.

  I stared at the wall, a term I use loosely, as I had done for years waiting for sleep to come. I was almost afraid to sleep. Soon, I would wake to the nightmares that hide in the shadows behind my eyelids. As soon as they closed, they seeped in to me. I blinked hard, wishing for just a few more minutes of quiet before the dreams came.

  Chapter Four

  I shivered beneath my scratchy cover. I couldn’t force sleep back anymore. Dreams came, barging in, as I knew they would. At first, they were memories, just moments caught in time, a birthday party with friends, a hug from my mother, sitting in class taking notes.

  Then, my mother was on the phone to me, telling me to run, to leave my dorm, and go to our house. Home wasn’t far away from my apartment, and then the memory of her scream, the one that was almost more painful than the screams that surround me during the roar.

  It was night, I was on the road, driving as fast as I could, scanning every radio station in the area. I heard nothing but static. The moon looked like it was dripping blood. Scripture of the apocalypse nagged at me, this would be the end of us all.

  I swerved to miss gaping holes that were opening in the pavement. I drove as fast as I could to my home. The world had to be breaking apart. I felt the Earth moving beneath me.

  The neighborhood was in chaos. Many of the homes were on fire. People dragged each other from them. Screams and yelling echoed in the air.

  My home was no longer there. All that remained were ashes. I saw charred bodies from my car among the ruins, and smoke still rising from what used to be our home. I fumbled to open the door and fell out onto the asphalt. The stench of burned bodies filled my nose.

  I can’t do this. I have to wake up.

  Someone ran to the car. I yelled, “Please help me!”

  The person tried to shove me out of the way. I kicked them as hard as possible and climbed back inside. The boy’s hand grabbed the door to keep it from closing and I remembered the multi tool my dad gave me in the console.

  He screamed at me, “Get out of the car! I swear to God, I will kill you!”

  I looked at his face for the first time and it was my neighbor’s son. He kept yanking on the door. I strained against the pulling inside. I gripped the pliers in my hand and shoved them into the bo
y’s arm. Blood spurt everywhere and he let go of the door.

  The dream moved to another place and time. I was in my house again, sitting in a corner rubbing an old scar on my shin. It itched like crazy and distracted me from an unknown urgency swelling inside. I looked at the old scar, I never could remember how I got it, but it looked more irritated than usual. It was a red streak along the bone of my shin.

  There were no phones, no radio, no car, no running water, no electricity, no television, no computers, or any other technology. I ran from one luxury to the next, trying it and finding it was no longer there.

  How am I here? I saw it burned to the ground. Then the sound and the roar followed to explain the illusion and what had been taken. I succumbed to sobbing, which is how I submit, every time. The nightmares never relent.

  Everything after that was a chain of repetition. I live through the pain of the roar, memories of my past and freedoms taken until we had no more, plague me.

  Among the redundant days that followed, people cracked and lost their minds, which resulted in either a disappearance or a roar and a body left as proof of the power held over us. The shock and panic left behind on cold faces.

  I don’t even wake from the nightmares anymore. Of course, I am always scared the pain is enough to remind me why I stay in line.

  It seems that not many people made it through the beginning, at least, not from what I can tell in my sector. I hope there are other sectors with people. There is still a small glimmer of hope that somewhere out there someone I know might be alive. I push that hope down deep. I don’t want to care, that causes more pain.

  I wake in the morning at the same time I do every day, beads of sweat on my brow. Every morning I wake to find I am still a part of that nightmare.

  Tiny rows of sunlight squeezed through the slats of my shack. The light was pretty. It cascaded down the back of my hand, giving it a golden glow. I felt a smile start to swell and shoved it back down inside me.