by Abi Ketner
Squinting in the dark, I lay eyes on it—rising from the ground, rusty old fence strewn into the street, the guard checkpoint half-manned.
My old building.
My eyes are drawn up the building, stopping only to focus on the windowless frame of my old quarters. “Quarters” sounds as if I had a say in the matter, like I wasn’t dragged from my home, branded, brought here, and kept under twenty-four hour surveillance.
It feels like it was forever ago that I lived there. Yet, here I am, back by my own choice, only three months after escaping. My hands clench, and my jaw tightens. I didn’t think it was possible for things to be even worse than they were when I was held captive here. But now, Sutton has been kidnapped, and the monitors have been slaughtered. Wilson is an animal, worse than any other Commander in history.
My body feels lead-heavy and weighted down. The only hope we had has just been completely destroyed. I rub my eyes. Crying won’t do me any good.
The black scarring of bombs and destruction left by bullets is evident, even at night. The courtyard outside the building no longer teems with Sinners bartering goods. Hairs prickle up on my arms. The guard checkpoint booth remains, but it’s empty. The barriers still form a narrow pathway for oncoming cars, and the spotlights mounted above the checkpoint have yet to be turned on.
My heart rate picks up as I dart across the street. No matter how hard I try to keep my mind in the present, the flood of memories from a few months ago comes rushing in. Alyssa was still alive. Keegan, who fought to free us, didn’t make it out alive. And Sutton. Oh God. Sutton. What will Wilson do to him? I shrug away fear and doubt. If we give up, or if we die … who will save Sutton?
I come to a barrier and grasp the side, using my legs to push me over. Glass crunches beneath my feet when I land on the other side. Strips of rubber, from what used to be tires, lie in the street. Out of habit, I look both ways, but there are no cars. It’s as if I’m looking down a black hole. I heft myself up over the next barrier and make for the darkness and safety of the buildings.
Once I get to the alleyway between my old building and the next, I’m enveloped by the shadows. The only things I hear are my steady breaths and the dull sound of clumping feet on cement. As I catch up to Grace, she stops dead in front of me. I almost trip before skidding to a halt, my hands grazing her taut back. She wavers just slightly forward on her toes. I place my hand on her shoulder, but she doesn’t even acknowledge me. I step around her. Her jaw drops open, and she stares straight ahead.
“Grace, what’s wron—”
She points in front of her.
I step back slightly, eyes wide with shock. The stench of stagnant blood, bodily waste, and decomposing bodies hits me like lightning. I bury my face in my elbow and try to block it. Without a doubt, it’s a smell I can never get accustomed to. The shrouded shantytown is three times larger than I remember. I used to be able to see where the huts stopped, but now it’s endless. Glancing to my left, I notice Cole taking it all in as well. His lips are slightly parted, and his eyes gleam with some unspeakable emotion. I swallow hard.
“What’s happened?” I ask Cole.
“We’ll find out,” he says in a low voice. His jaw twitches, and he doesn’t meet my eyes.
Torn fabric covers tin and crudely constructed huts that seem to run into one another. By the looks of it, they might even be holding each other up. An endless expanse of gray, tan, brown, and crimson cloaked with poverty greets us. The narrow pathways are covered in dirt and filled with glass, garbage, bodily fluids, and some with words of discouragement written in blood. Sinners walk around with visible injuries. Some have ragged clothing and some only wear underwear. Their hair’s greasy, and a thick layer of filth covers them. One looks toward me, her eyes empty and almost lifeless. She holds her arms against herself, scratching at already bloody sores. Blood slips down her arms like dark red streams of paint.
Oh my God, my cell was a hotel compared to this. At least I was fed. Guilt overtakes me. Even when I saw the center of the Hole before, it never seemed this expansive. There were never this many starving people wandering around aimlessly. My throat closes up as I struggle for words. I walk to Cole and reach for his arm. I cannot speak. Instead, I pray silently to wake up from this nightmare.
Dead bodies are piled on top of each other in a pit to the right of us. I watch as a man tosses the next body toward the pile. When the corpse lands, bones clank together, breaking and tearing through skin. The body’s nothing more than a skeleton. Most of the dead are all the same, severely malnourished and stiff, thrown away like garbage.
Life is precious, but in the Hole … it’s a curse.
Two women stand together at the edge of the pit, their hands clasped together. They’re crying, and I want to cry for them. Cole shivers next to me, but I don’t think he’s cold. He remains silent, and even when I grab his hand, he doesn’t look at me.
Others moan, cry, and some scream, their cries piercing my ears, making me unsure of whether I want to drop to my knees or pick up a gun. My entire body heats with fury. Wilson just lit another flame under me. He must pay for this. One way or another, he’s going to pay.
“Take a deep breath, guys. Breathe through your mouth, and wipe the shock off your faces,” Bruno says from out of nowhere. “Remember, we need to blend.”
Like that’s possible. We’re probably the healthiest people in here.
We move deeper into the rows of shacks. Sinners lie on the floor, some asleep and some rocking back and forth with nothing but blank stares. It’s almost like they’re in a trance or something. Many have scars across their faces and on their arms; they look so diseased. We swat flies away from our faces as we continue to move slowly and deeper into the Hole.
“No please; it’s all I got,” a woman’s voice calls from over my shoulder. Cole and I turn around.
A man shoves a frail and sickly woman to the ground and kicks her in the stomach. The woman lets out a groan, and before she falls, the man grabs her bag then takes off running.
“Zeus, attack,” Cole says, his fists clenched at his sides.
Zeus charges, catching the man in seconds. As Zeus pounces on the thief’s back with his front legs, the man plummets to the ground, and Zeus ferociously rips apart his clothes.
“I’ll check on the lady,” I tell Cole.
Cole takes off running toward the man, and I sprint to the girl who’s curled up into a ball. Dropping to my knees, I place my hand on her back. She recoils from my touch.
“Hey, I’m not going to hurt you; I promise.”
She runs a thin hand through her matted black hair. She’s shaking. I can feel her ribs through the threadbare shirt she wears, and it reminds me of Alyssa. This woman’s older, I’m guessing in her thirties. The smell of stagnant urine lingers in the air. People in the shantytown have nowhere to cleanse themselves. And the living conditions are far worse now than they were when I lived in the Hole just a few months ago.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“Uh-huh,” is all she manages to mutter back to me. I glance up, and Cole’s hovering over the man who just beat her.
“Zeus, that’s enough.”
Zeus makes this awful hacking sound as he spits out a chunk of the thief’s clothing. I can only imagine what that must’ve tasted like.
“What’s wrong with you?” Cole asks the thief in a stern tone. “Stealing from a helpless woman, and then you go and kick her? Really?”
“She’s already half-dead. And I’m starving, asshole.”
Cole punches him across the jaw, and the man’s head whips to the left. He recovers, eyeing Cole up and down, his pride surely bruised as much as his face will be. “Give it to me.”
“No,” the man says. He turns and spits blood on the ground.
“Zeus, get it,” Cole says.
Zeus sniffs the man and forces him onto his back. Then he bites down on his right wrist.
“Ahhhh!” The man screams, releasing the bag.
Cole yanks it away and signals to Zeus to release the hand.
“See? That wasn’t so hard now was it?” Cole asks.
“Wait a minute. Where have I seen you before?” The man looks Cole over once more. “Oh … I see now. A guard, of all people. You do know every single one of you sticks out like a sore thumb? Your stance, the way you hold your head high, like you’re all above us dirtbags down here. You’ve got more blood on your hands than any man in here. You self-righteous son of a bitch. But go, tell yourself you’re a better person now for saving that lady. You are just as bad as the Commander, if not worse.”
I can’t tell what bothers Cole more, the man’s words or the fact that he recognizes Cole. I catch his eye, then look over at Bruno. They both look from side to side, then all around the immediate area. Grace has tears in her eyes, and it hits me. Cole cannot risk anyone knowing he’s here.
Bruno makes his way to Cole, and Grace joins me.
“Will she be all right?” Grace’s voice is soft.
“I’m not sure. But we gotta find shelter soon, and we can’t risk anyone giving us up,” I whisper in her ear.
“What about her?” Grace whispers back, thumbing her finger at the woman.
“I don’t know. Just look the other way.”
“I’ll block you,” Bruno says. “Hurry up and do it.”
Grace and I turn away as Cole grabs the man around the head and prepares to do away with the threat to our safety. Then we hear the snap.
We turn around to see the boys throw the dead man into a hut. Zeus trots over to us, then sniffs and licks the woman’s face. She opens her eyes. There is only one word to describe what happens next. Terror. The woman scrunches back and away from us. Her scream reminds me of the alarms from earlier. Grace reaches over and covers her mouth with her hand. The woman continues to scream, gurgling through muffled fear. Her eyes are as big as quarters.
She wriggles away from Grace, who plunges forward to catch her. She can’t get away. I dive for her, but she smacks me.
“Please, we aren’t trying to hurt you,” Grace says.
“What’d you do that for?” I raise a hand to my stinging face, regretting trying to help her.
She stops screaming but continues heaving and breathing heavily. “What is that?” she asks in a weak voice.
“He’s a dog. He’s just a very big dog,” I say.
“A dog. Looks like a horse.” She chuckles. Then begins to cough. “I thought he was going to eat me.”
I stifle a laugh, remembering the first time I laid eyes on Zeus. I’m grateful she’s breathing and talking again.
Bruno and Cole arrive at our sides.
“Here, let me carry her,” Bruno says, and he crouches down. “Would it be all right if I carry you to your hut?”
“I’d appreciate that, sir, thank you.”
“Are you okay?” Grace asks him, but he just shakes off her concern.
He gently puts his right arm under the woman’s legs and with his left arm, he cradles her back. He’s gentle, like he would be with a child. Grace is so lucky. He’ll make a great father, if he makes it out of here alive.
“Where’s your hut?” he asks.
“The one with the blue curtains.” She laughs. The laugh is long, hoarse, and full of mucus. Her sense of humor is unnerving.
Looking around, I see the hut she’s referring to. It’s just a few feet away, and I motion for Bruno, Cole, and Grace to follow me.
When we arrive, I grab the thin fabric covering the door, pulling it to the side. It feels as thin as tissue paper. Bruno ducks his head and carries the woman inside. Grace and Cole follow. There’s nothing but a yellow sheet covering the dirt floor, and it has holes everywhere. We barely all fit inside, and suddenly I feel claustrophobic.
“Just put me down on the floor,” she says, a soft, nearly toothless smile lighting up her face. Slowly, Bruno lowers her to the floor, and she moans.
“Are you hurt?” Cole asks. He joins Bruno in helping the woman move.
“I always hurt; I’m in constant pain.” She looks around her home, as if checking to be sure everything is still there.
“Why? What’s wrong?” I ask.
“I wish I knew,” she says.
“If you’re sick, why haven’t they been treating you?” Grace asks.
“Because that costs money, and Wilson stopped all medical treatment, except for the guards, after the revolt. I guess he feels it’s a waste of his precious dollars.”
My stomach gets caught in my throat.
“Do you know how you got sick?” I ask, while bending forward, and all of a sudden, the room’s spinning around me.
“Some say the vaccine we received wasn’t effective. That we didn’t receive it in time, and so the ones who were already exposed have fallen ill.”
“A vaccine for what?”
“The virus,” she says. “A lot of people are getting sick. More and more every day.”
“Have we been exposed?”
“Don’t worry, they said it only spreads through blood.” She rubs her neck, and I feel guilty for being grateful that it was Bruno who carried her and not Cole.
That’s when I notice she’s branded with lust, just like me, and I wonder what she did to get here. Is she innocent too?
“I’m so sorry,” I say. “I wish we could do something for you.”
“Oh, honey, you already have. You showed me kindness and got my bag back. That’s more than anyone has ever done for me.”
On cue, Cole hands over the bag he took from the man he killed.
“Thank you,” the woman says. She opens it and pulls out a piece of stale, moldy bread and a small vial.
“What is that?” I ask. “In the vial?”
“Our water for the day.”
“That’s all they give you to drink?” Grace asks.
“Yes. Enough to keep us alive.”
We are all silent. I don’t think any of us know what to say.
“Please don’t feel sorry for me,” she says. “Honestly, I don’t want to live anymore, not like this. I know this might sound crazy, but at least dying … will set me free.”
Her words crush my soul.
You can overcome anything short of death, I tell myself.
“We better go,” Bruno says. “Is there anything you need before we leave?”
“No, I’m fine.” She pauses and looks as if she is about to say something. She smiles and says, “Thank you again.”
“It would really be great if you didn’t tell anyone we were here,” Bruno says in a stern voice.
“Don’t worry. I know how to keep my mouth shut.” The woman winks, and I realize we have no idea what her name is. There’s a part of me that wants to stay with her and comfort her somehow, but I know it’s not possible. It kills me to have to leave her here all alone. But we aren’t here to make friends.
We say our good-byes and make our way out of her hut. We walk in silence, alert but pensive. We take turns searching for a place to settle.
Cole gives me a strange look. Bruno shakes his head and begins pushing into the next hut. Two blankets lie on the ground. There’s no furniture. There’s no water or eating utensils. He moves on.
It’s like a city of huts, tents, and cement blocks. Every avenue is filled with something, whether it’s trash or cement blocks or bodies. There’s no grid of streets, just zigzag alleyways and narrow paths between propped-up shelters. In the darkness, it feels haunted.
I can almost sense the lost souls inhabiting the black pits of every crevice. I glance upward. The moon hangs in the sky with its white body illuminating the corrugated metal roofing of some of the houses. My mouth feels like sandpaper. My body shakes as my adrenaline slows down.
Pretty soon, it’s hard to pick up my feet. My boots weigh them down, and it’s like I’m walking through quicksand. I can barely hold my eyes open. Even Zeus stumbles along beside me. His tongue dangles from his mouth, and his tail droops.
; “Let’s stop,” Cole says. Bruno turns around. In the pale light, his usually smooth skin looks wrinkled and tired. “I think we’re in far enough, and I’m about to fall over.”
Bruno’s broad shoulders disappear into a hut and then he re-emerges. “Found a vacant one,” he says.
Zeus sniffs the cloth of the curtain before taking off into our temporary new home. Inside, I hear him sneeze twice. No, three times.
“So much for subtlety,” Cole mutters under his breath.
The others enter the tiny, rundown shack before I do. I get halfway through the door when the familiar scent of decaying flesh hits me. Nausea creeps up my insides as I look around. A thin, dirt-streaked blanket lies on the floor to my right. An empty metal bowl sits on top of a crudely made stand behind it. Zeus’s tail whips past it, and it topples sideways. Next thing, I’m scrambling to catch it so it doesn’t clatter to the ground. The bowl lands perfectly in my hands, but unfortunately, I can’t keep my balance, and I stumble and fall forward with a whoosh.
“Nice save,” Cole says quietly. He takes the bowl from my hands and helps me up.
“Do you think that woman has the same thing Alyssa had?” I wipe the sweat off the back of my neck and then wipe my hands on my pants.
“Doubtful,” Bruno says.
“Then what’s killing her?”
“Could be a million different things. You heard her … Sinners no longer get medical care.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” I say with sadness.
“I’m always right, Miss Lexi,” Bruno says with an exaggerated bow.
“Oh please,” Grace says, giving Bruno a look of annoyance. “Does anyone have water?”
“Not me; my pack’s gone,” I say.
“I’ve got a little left,” Bruno says, holding out a bottle. “I guess I’ll share it with you.” He winks at Grace, who takes it from him. Her hands are so small compared to his.
“Glad to see chivalry isn’t dead,” she says. She glances at the bottle and shakes it, raising an eyebrow. “There’s not a lot left. Are you sure? You need your strength too.”
“You know me, I can go for days,” he says.
“Oh, Lord,” I say. “TMI.”