by Lauren Salem
By the time I was fourteen, I was sick of being the only person in school who didn’t have a cell phone, an iPod, or even a computer. I had to find some way to make more money but still have enough time to wash dishes at the restaurant. That was when I decided to test Mom’s theories on the boys at school, and, surprisingly, everything she said worked. Boys would buy me a computer or iPod just for making out with them, flashing them my breasts, and giving them some dirty pictures.
The cell phone, on the other hand, was a little more of a challenge. I actually had to get into a real relationship for that one, which felt really awkward. His name was Randy, he was sixteen, and he wanted to talk all the time, which was why he bought me a cell phone. While I was technically Randy’s girl, I continued to see other people because I knew I could do better. Eventually, when I was fifteen, I did find something better in Ron, the freshman college student I lost my virginity to for a credit card in his name.
* * *
“Laura,” a tiny man called out.
My mind snapped back to Walnut Cherryville reality…or maybe not…unless I was really seeing a tiny midget with a fiery–red, receding hairline. Orange was not a good color on him. He tied his blue bandana on his head before he led me out of the glass building.
“Good morning, Laura,” he said. “My name is Tim and welcome to the gatherers. It’s a fairly long walk to the forest, so bear with me as I entertain you with my lovely singing voice. Feel free to sing along if you’d like.”
Tiny Tim started singing what sounded like Irish music, which was confirmed when I saw him occasionally walk like he was in Riverdance. By the time we reached the forest, I had all his moves memorized. It wasn’t until I saw the massive trees towering over us that I realized when he said forest, he actually meant a real forest.
At the entrance to the forest sat a pile of baskets. He held out a basket to me, but I hardly noticed because I was so entranced by the trees. The line between desert and forest was so abrupt. I reached down, grabbed a handful of sand, and then touched the tree that was two steps in front of me.
“Laura, please take the basket; my arm is getting tired.”
“Oh, sorry,” I said, taking the basket.
“The entrance to the forest is marked by these baskets. Every day you will take a basket or two and venture out into the wonderful world of trees. Your assignment is to collect as many almost-ripe mangos as you can. If you’re unsure of what we’re looking for, there is a picture of an almost-ripe mango in your basket, so look for mangos that look like your picture. Just so you know, mangos grow on trees, so you might have to do a little climbing. When you’ve filled your basket, you need to check it in at the packaging station, which you can find by following all the footprints that lead out of the forest. You will repeat this process until the sun goes down. After that, your day is over, and you may return to the glass building. Any questions?”
“No,” I said before he walked away.
I stepped into the forest and started looking for mango trees. Every tree I found had someone else picking off it, so I chose a tree at random.
“Hey, I claimed this tree—get off!” a man yelled out.
To avoid an argument, I walked away from the tree and continued searching for one that wasn’t claimed by someone else. It took a long time, but I eventually found the perfect tree in an area secluded from other gatherers. I walked around and underneath the tree, collecting all the mangos I could reach. I dropped them on the ground until I was done collecting, and then I placed them in the basket.
There were still several mangos up on the higher branches, so I climbed the tree, which was difficult and made my muscles ache. I rested on a branch for a few minutes before I continued to drop mangos down to the ground. All of a sudden, I heard footsteps approaching, so I looked around. A young Asian woman grabbed my basket of mangos, but I stopped her before she could get away.
“Hey,” I yelled as I fell from the tree and toppled on the girl, making her drop the basket. I sat on her back and moved the basket out of her reach.
“Get off me,” she cried. “You’re hurting me!”
“Why do you want to steal my basket?” I yelled. “Why do you want to steal my basket?”
She didn’t answer, and her crying stopped. As a matter of fact, it felt like she wasn’t breathing. I got off her, flipped her on to her back, and poked her a bit. Her eyes were closed.
“Are you OK?”
Out of nowhere, her eyes shot open, and she jammed a spork shiv into my cheek followed by a swift open-palm punch to the nose. I fell onto my back—it’s on, bitch! As she stood up, I quickly reached into my basket and threw a mango at her boob. I got back on my feet and smeared the blood that dripped from my nose on my uniform sleeve. I gave her the look of death—the same look I gave girls at school who wore the same outfit as me—while she rubbed her boob in pain. She came at me with a dozen Kung Fu moves and blocked all my attacks. She kicked me to the ground and took my basket of mangos with her bloody hands. I grabbed a handful of dirt as she turned away.
“Hey, bitch,” I said to get her attention. First, provide a distraction. When she turned, I threw dirt in her eyes, so I could beat her up American-style. Second, make her lose control. I grabbed her by the hair, pulled her down, and forced her to eat the dirt. Third, finish her! I rolled onto her and punched her in the face repeatedly like a cowboy in those old Western films. Unfortunately for me, that girl was flexible enough to kick me behind the head and knock me out. As my world turned black, I fell to the ground and ate the dirt. It was OK, she might have won this battle, but I wouldn’t let her defeat me again. I would find a way to get back at her. Laura out…
* * *
When I woke up a few hours later, I had no clue where I was. It made me slightly happy to find out that somebody was nice enough to take me out of the forest and put me in a bed. The bed was similar to those I found in medical offices that are lined with paper and have paper blankets. Beneath my paper blanket, I wore a white cotton robe that tied in the back. This wasn’t what I was wearing when I passed out. I sat up and looked around the room. No one else was in here but me. Two rows of five beds were surrounded by blank walls. Suddenly, the door opened, and a man wearing a white Walnut Cherryville jumpsuit walked in with a stethoscope around his neck and a file in his hands.
“Ah, Laura, you’re finally up,” he said.
“Where am I?”
“Don’t be alarmed; you’re in the medical wing.”
I was confused. “How did anyone know I needed help?”
“Someone must have seen you pass out, and they pressed your red button. We tracked your location in the forest and brought you here. The nurses cleaned you up and changed your clothes. How are you feeling?”
“I have a headache, and I feel tired. My nose hurts.”
“Do you remember what happened to you?”
“I was picking mangos, and someone tried to steal them. We got into a fight.”
“Were there any witnesses?”
“Not that I could tell, no.”
“When that person was attacking you, did you fight back physically?”
“Well, yeah, I had to defend myself.”
“You’re lucky the guards didn’t see you. If that person tries to attack you again, press your medical button, and try to move somewhere where there are a lot of people around. Walnut Cherryville has a very strict no-violence policy, so next time don’t fight back, and only the attacker will be punished in court instead of both of you.”
“Am I in trouble?”
“You’re not, as long as no one witnessed the fight and there is no visual evidence like pictures or film from the security cameras. Unfortunately, despite all the efforts the Quintons made to get people to stop fighting, none of it has helped. The highest volume of patients we get in the medical wing come from people who have injuries from physical violence. I’d say if someone hasn’t opened a case by next week, then no one saw the fight, and you’re in the c
lear.”
I sighed as I lay back down. “The girl made a shiv out of a spork! Now my cheek will be scarred for life.”
“I think after a few months the scar will hardly be noticeable. We did a full examination on you while you were unconscious, and we found no broken bones. Your nose and eyes will appear bruised for a while, but that should go away in a few weeks. We also did a blood test and found that you have an HIV infection. Were you already aware of this?”
My eyes started to water as I lay in silence. I purposely never got tested for STDs before because I’d rather live my life in ignorant bliss. The less I knew about what was going on in my body, the better I felt. I never really thought much about how my promiscuous sexual activity could give me a life-changing disease. Since hardly anyone had HIV anymore, I always thought that something this serious could never happen to me…Apparently I was wrong.
“No,” I replied. “How is this possible? I don’t feel sick at all.”
“Many people do not develop symptoms after getting infected with HIV,” he explained. “Some people have a flu-like illness within several days to several weeks after exposure to the virus, but these symptoms go away in a few weeks. You could even live for ten years without showing any symptoms.”
“What do I do now?”
“Try not to stress about it too much and just live your life. If for any reason you feel sick, just press the red button. We will help you ease the pain in any way possible.”
“How much time do I have left to live?”
“Well, right now you only have the HIV infection, which has not developed into AIDS yet. I’d say you still have several years, but I can’t give you an exact number, since there isn’t a known way for me to figure that out.”
A nurse knocked on the door and let herself in. “Laundry services delivered you a clean uniform and biohazard bags. From now on, you will need to put all your dirty laundry in the biohazard bags instead of in regular ones, so laundry services will know to separate your items from the rest.” She handed me a bunch of bags and a clean uniform.
“Why don’t you get changed and meet me out in the hall, so I can show you the way out,” the doctor said before he and the nurse left the room.
I took off the white cotton gown and returned to my orange jumpsuit. This couldn’t be happening to me. Part of me didn’t want to believe the doctor even though I knew he was right. He said live your life…How was I supposed to enjoy living my life when I knew I was going to die? I might not even make it past thirty-seven years old. What was there to enjoy about my life? When I was admitted into the correctional school, I lost all the personal belongings I worked for. Not to mention the fact that I was here, in Walnut Cherryville, with no personal belongings at all, and I worked a crappy job for free. If I ever got out of Walnut Cherryville, how would I live my life differently from before?
I walked out of the room, and the doctor directed me to the cafeteria, where I met up with Johnny, Collins, and Vincent for dinner. Once we were settled at a table with our roast beef, potato, and green bean dinner, we hashed out the details of our first day at work.
“Laura, what happened to your face?” Vincent asked.
“Someone stole my mangos.”
“Was it an Asian woman named Amy Chang?”
“Fits the description.”
“What did she do to you? It looks pretty bad.”
“She beat me up, but that wasn’t even the worst part of my day.”
I wasn’t sure if I should tell them that I had HIV. Maybe if I didn’t tell them right away, it would feel like less of a reality. Besides, I couldn’t handle any more emotional stress right now. The normal me would focus on getting revenge on Amy and act like there wasn’t anything else wrong.
“I was wondering where you were because I saw you on my list,” Vincent said. “You were the only one who didn’t bring in any fruit.”
“I didn’t bring in any fruit because that bitch stole it from me! Are you the person I’m supposed to bring my fruit to?”
“Yep, you give me the fruit, and I record the weight.”
“Well, that works out,” I said. “Could you do me a huge favor? Would it be possible for you to fudge the numbers…you know, ‘cook the books?’”
“I don’t know if that would be the best idea, Laura,” Vincent said. “It might hinder our chances of getting out of here.”
“So does this mean you’re on board with helping us escape from Walnut Hellville?” Collins asked.
“I never said I wasn’t,” Vincent responded.
“Vincent, I really need you to do this for me,” I insisted.
“Nothing you need him to do is more important than everyone getting out of here, Laura,” Collins said.
“Oh, I’m sure you wouldn’t be saying that if this happened to your face!”
“Everyone calm down,” Johnny shouted. “I know we’re all frustrated, but I have good news. Veronica said she might help us get out of here.”
“I’m sorry; why is that good news?” Collins asked.
“Veronica has been working here for years, and she hates it,” Johnny replied. “She’s very knowledgeable about Walnut Cherryville, so we can all put our heads together and come up with a realistic escape plan.”
“But how do we know we can trust her?” Collins demanded. He pulled out a folded piece of paper from his uniform and slapped it on the table. “This is a list of laws and punishments for breaking those laws. The punishment for abandoning the village is death. We only have one shot at escaping, and if we don’t make it, we die!”
“Which is exactly why we need Veronica on our team,” Johnny added. “She showed me the Quintons’ secret library and gave me a book about how to survive in the desert.”
“I don’t know,” Collins responded. “Vincent, Laura, what do you think about Veronica knowing our escape plan?”
“Doesn’t matter what we think anymore because she already knows,” Vincent replied. “We just have to hope she won’t tell anyone else.”
“I feel we can trust her,” Johnny said.
“I hope you’re right,” I added. “Changing the subject; if you knew you only had a few years left to live, what would you do with yourselves?”
“I would backpack around the world,” Johnny said. “Fall off the radar.”
“Go to college,” Collins added. “I hear people say their college years are the best years of their lives. Besides all those fun classes you have to take, there are hot girls, parties, and basketball.”
“I don’t really like to make plans for my life, so whatever happens, happens,” Vincent said. “Are you having second thoughts about what you want to do with your life?”
“You could say that,” I responded.
“Hmm…I wonder what caused the sudden change of heart.”
“You know, Vincent, I really think switching me and Amy’s numbers will do no harm. It’s not like you’re making the numbers up; you’re just switching them.”
“Are you just saying that because you’re mad that she beat you up or because you really want a shower?”
“Both.”
Vincent pulled out a shower coin from his pocket and handed it to me. “Here, you can have my shower coin.”
“Wow, thank you, at least a nice shower will temporarily make me feel better,” I said. “And what are you going to do about Amy beating me up?”
“I will switch the numbers if I find that doing so provides no risks to our escape,” Vincent responded. “But you have to work harder to bring in some weight. I can’t save your butt every time. If you get a bad evaluation from your supervisor, it puts us all at risk.”
“Yeah, I’ve already accomplished that,” Collins added. “I had to go to court today for using my cleaning cart as a scooter and breaking their vacuum.”
“What the hell, Collins?” Laura shouted. “You’re so childish.”
“That was totally uncalled for, Laura; you’re not the only one who had a bad day,” Collin
s responded. “I didn’t get a shower coin either, and you don’t see me begging for one. Johnny, did you get a shower coin?”
I rolled my eyes.
“I did, but I’m not giving it up because I have to wash the Mama off me.”
“The what?”
“I’d rather not talk about it; I’m scared for my life.”
“Well, in other news, my day was kind of normal considering where we are,” Vincent added.
Johnny, Collins, and I all looked at Vincent with a disapproving glare.
“Sorry, I probably shouldn’t have said anything.”
Chapter 8: Collins
On my second day of work as a janitor, I got a little further in the cleaning process than I did on my first day, but apparently not far enough. After I refilled my bottles with cleaners and attached a new vacuum to my cart, I started to clean the entertainment room. I picked up the mess people left from last night, dusted the furniture, and vacuumed the carpet. This was the first room I cleaned today, and I was already tired before I even cleaned the windows. At breakfast, Veronica warned me again not to eat such a big meal before work, but I didn’t listen because the pancakes, sausage, eggs, bacon, French toast, hash browns, and waffles loaded with maple syrup were far too appetizing. I suffered the consequences of that delicious meal. After I came down from the sugar high, I became really tired and needed a rest, so I sat on the couch for a few minutes, rubbing the food baby in my stomach. Somehow, I must have fallen asleep.
Two hours later, the guards woke me up, cuffed my hands behind my back, and escorted me to court. Apparently, sleeping on the job was a crime, too, even though it was not written on the sheet of laws. I sat on a bench until the judge called my number.