The Rat Collector: A Dystopian Thriller (Age of End Book 1)

by Chris Yee

  “Yes.”

  “Did you learn anything interesting?”

  “No.”

  “Nothing at all? I know it was only your first day, but you must have learned something.”

  Roger sighed. “I don’t know, Mom. Can I just go to my room?”

  “Okay, sweetie. You’re off the hook for now.” Roger darted past her. “But I want to hear more at supper.”

  Roger shut his door and fell onto his bed. He finally had some alone time. He stared at the bare ceiling for a good while and then sat up to look at the stacked boxes in the far corner of his empty room. He had not unpacked yet, but he was not in the mood.

  Instead, he got up and dug through the box on top, throwing piles of clothes over his head until he found the stack of books he was looking for. He placed them on his desk and looked at the top cover. It was a picture of a smiling cartoon turtle.

  He ran his fingers over the smooth surface. The title read The Happy Turtle. It was a simple, yet appropriate title for one of his favorite picture books as a child. He cracked open the beat-up cover and turned to the first page. Each page had a large picture with text underneath.

  He smiled when he saw the rhymes. He enjoyed rhymes. There was a certain satisfaction in finding the perfect pair of words. It was like fitting together the pieces of a puzzle. The first rhyme that popped into his head…slice and dice…

  He looked down at the page and read the story:

  A turtle happy as could be,

  Walked down the trail, full of glee.

  “The day’s a beauty,” he proclaimed,

  “Just call me Walter. That’s my name.”

  The picture showed the same happy turtle from the cover walking along a dirt path. There were trees on either side of him, their branches full of bright green leaves. The sun shone in the clear sky. He wore a hat showing his name, Walter. It was a simple drawing, but charming. He turned the page:

  So on his journey homeward bound,

  He smiled big, he smiled proud.

  With sunlight beaming on his face,

  He kept a slow and steady pace.

  There was a cozy house in the distance, presumably Walter’s home. He walked towards the house. The sun shone upon his wide smile, showing that he was indeed The Happy Turtle.

  He looked down at his watch to see,

  The time read almost half past three.

  A panic overcame his smile,

  His first time late in quite some while.

  A close-up of Walter’s watch displayed the time, 3:30.

  Determined to be home on time,

  He tried to focus all his mind.

  And step by step he made his way,

  “I need to make it home today.”

  The flustered turtle’s smile was gone, and in its place, a stiff look of determination. He swung his arms and kicked his knees as he marched down the path, like a soldier in formation.

  Despite his efforts and his will,

  He moved as slow as standing still.

  And soon came fall with colored leaves,

  “I hate these slowly moving feet.”

  Walter had not moved at all from the previous page. The trees still stood by his side, their leaves now an assortment of reds and yellows. Some had fallen to the ground, forming a crunchy trail of autumn colors. He kept his march, but now his face held anger.

  From anger came diminished hope,

  And now upset, he could not cope.

  In desperate cries, he hollered loud,

  “Why can’t I just be home right now?”

  Walter’s arms drooped, and his head hung low. All the trees were now bare. The leaves on the ground had lost their color and were an ugly shade of brown. His expression had turned to one of desperation.

  And after fall came winter’s hold,

  With heaps of snow and biting cold.

  His body ached, his feet were numb,

  His hope was blown to kingdom come.

  Walter stood, more hopeless than ever. His feet dragged with each step. The leaves were replaced with snow, and the sun was hidden behind a wall of clouds, leaving the sky dark and dreary.

  This is dark for a children’s book, Roger thought to himself as he examined the not-so-happy turtle. But he remembered there was a happy ending.

  And after signs of deep despair,

  A thought popped up, he did not care.

  He realized though he was late,

  It’s better to accept this fate.

  Walter looked up with a sudden realization. The snow around him was half melted in puddles. Small buds grew from the tips of branches. The clouds had dispersed, and the sun peeked out from behind.

  With no more worries on his mind,

  He stood and watched the sunlight shine.

  Admired flowers here and there,

  Enjoyed the freshness of the air.

  The page repeated the first image of the book. The green leaves of the trees, the sun shining brightly in the sky, and Walter’s big smile.

  And after many passing years,

  He walked his walk with no more fears.

  And to this day, he’s full of glee,

  A happy turtle as could be.

  The final page showed pictures of Walter walking through all of the seasons. A smile plastered on his face, even through the gloomy weather of autumn and winter.

  Roger slapped the book closed just as his mother called from downstairs. “Roger, supper is ready!” He stuffed the book in his school bag. He liked to carry it around. It was somehow comforting. As he walked down the hallway, he tried another rhyme…slice and dice…and something nice…He could do better.

  He entered the dining room and made his way to the dinner table. His father and mother sat on opposite ends, and he took his seat in the middle. On his mother’s side, there was a large succulent turkey. The juices dripped from the crispy skin. The steam climbed up into his nostrils and made him drool.

  His mother stood up and grabbed the large carving knife and fork. She slowly moved the sharp blade up and down the prongs, making the crisp sound of metal rubbing on metal. Roger watched as she prepared to cut the perfectly cooked meat. Slice and dice. She brought the knife downward, slicing through with ease.

  Slice and dice, that’s one big knife.

  She placed a generous portion on each plate. When she was finished serving, Roger indulged his newly-found hunger, stuffing scoops of meat down his gullet. His father watched. “Slow down there, son. You’re going to choke to death if you keep up that pace.”

  Slice and dice, don’t end your life.

  Roger slowed his bites and sipped his water.

  “So sweetie,” His mother said. “Tell us more about your first day of school.”

  Roger sighed. “Must I, Mother? I really am not in the mood.”

  “Yes, you must.” Her tone had a subtle punch to it. “I want to hear about your day.”

  Roger knew this tone and knew resistance would only lead to trouble. So he told her about his day, but he did not enjoy it one bit.

  Slice and dice, she’s not so nice.

  SIXTEEN

  VINCE ARRIVED AT school the next day, refreshed from a full night of sleep. He felt better than he had in years. He entered the room and looked at the clock. Only minutes before class and Saul was still absent. He sat at his desk and tapped his fingers. Ms. Martin walked in and began to teach, but Vince was completely distracted. There is no way he stayed in the woods all night. He kept eyes on the door, but Saul never came. As class ended, Vince rushed out of the room and headed directly to the woods.

  When he reached the spot from the night before, he saw several dead trees, but no sign of Saul. He wandered deeper, calling Saul’s name. There was no answer. He strolled into a small clearing. The sunlight gleamed through past the branches, brightening a patch of green in the grass. At the center of the clearing, Saul slouched over on his knees, head tilted down. In his hands was a dead rabbit, whose frizzled fur had faded.

>   Vince stepped forward onto dried leaves. The crisp crunch snapped Saul out of his trance. He looked up, and a smile slowly formed.

  “Just the person I wanted to see. Vince, come over here.”

  “Have you been here all night?”

  Saul chuckled, “No I went home last night, but when I woke up, I came back.”

  “I was waiting for you all day. You were just here this whole time?”

  “Yes. Although my parents don’t know that.”

  Vince’s face held a look of concern.

  “Don’t worry Vince. I wasn’t draining trees all day. I spent most of the time trying to catch this rabbit.” He held the carcass up.

  Vince turned away. “That’s gross Saul. Why are you holding that?”

  “I drained it.” He said, trying to hold back his smile, but finally giving in. “Vince, it feels amazing. You have no idea. It’s better than the trees, tenfold, at least.”

  Vince recalled the feeling that rushed through his body when he drained the tree. The warmth. The adrenaline. The overwhelming sense of power. The idea of an even greater sensation was intriguing, but he still held reservations. “Are you sure this is okay? It doesn’t feel right.”

  “Why not?”

  “You’re killing living creatures.”

  “Don’t you realize? This is the key to living forever. We’ve been handed the gift of immortality. We can’t just throw that away. It’s like the man said; hunting. We already kill animals to survive. Your father runs a meat shop for Christ’s sake. He does this kind of thing every day. Draining this rabbit is the same thing. And look,” he held the dangling body up to Vince’s face, “now we can eat it. We can take it back to you father to sell. Nothing goes to waste.”

  Vince listened carefully. Maybe Saul was right. Perhaps he was overreacting. They should use this ability instead of wasting it. It was a gift after all, not a curse. “Okay, show me.”

  “Yes!” Saul yelled, jumping up with excitement. “Let’s get to it then. First, we need to find an animal for you to drain. There are tons of rabbits around. They’re just tough to catch. Here, I’ll help you.”

  “I’ve hunted rabbit before. I know what I’m doing.”

  “That’s what I thought, but there’s a catch. Draining doesn’t work if the rabbit’s dead. You need to catch a live one.”

  Saul’s hunting skills were impressive. He had been practicing all day. When he captured the rabbit, he held it up by the throat. It frantically twisted and turned, trying to escape the tight grasp. Saul wrapped his other hand around the rabbit’s hind legs and twisted his wrist. There was a loud snap as the nimble bones in its legs broke. He released his grip and let it fall to the ground. The rabbit wriggled in pain, dragging its legs and rolling from side to side until finally, it went limp. Its chest still puffed in and out and its ear occasionally twitched. Passed out, but still alive.

  Saul pointed. “Go on. What are you waiting for?”

  Vince picked up the body. He cradled the ball of fur and gently brushed its head with his fingertips.

  “Come on Vince! It’s not your pet. Go on and drain it already.”

  Vince did as commanded. He drained the wounded rabbit, and in an instant, understood what Saul meant. It was not necessarily stronger, just different. It was better. From that moment on he was hooked. All of his doubts, fears, hesitations. Gone.

  SEVENTEEN

  VINCE WAS INTERRUPTED when Horace entered the room. Rupert stood to escort the old man out, but Horace remained calm. There was no yelling or nonsense babbling. He stumbled in and sat in the corner, quiet as a mouse.

  “Horace, are you okay?” Rupert asked. “You should be in bed?”

  “I want to listen,” he whispered.

  “Okay,” Rupert said, shrugging as he took his seat.

  “So, what I saw,” Carl said. “That was you draining the horse.”

  Vince nodded. “That is correct. And I am very sorry you had to see that. It was not my intention.”

  “What was your intention?” Ella asked. “Why did you drain the horse in the first place? That was our only one.”

  “It was certainly not the ideal outcome. You must understand, I thought Saul was coming. If he was, you would all be dead. I needed to warn you. Protect you. But I was useless in that wheelchair. Draining helps me heal, and I made a difficult decision. I’m afraid it was the wrong one. I hope you can forgive me.”

  Rupert stared into Vince’s eyes. Could he be trusted? “That is quite some story.”

  Carl nodded. “I liked the story with the turtle.”

  Turtle.

  “The giant tortoise can live for over two hundred years,” Ella blurted out. She was not sure why she quoted The Wonderful World of Animals: Volume 5 — Reptiles; and now, with everyone staring, her cheeks grew red hot. “I found that quote from a book in the library. I’m not sure why it came to mind.”

  Rupert patted her shoulder. “No worries, dear.”

  “I do have one question,” she said. “Why is Saul so dangerous? You seemed like really good friends. What changed?”

  Vince stared deep into the crackling fireplace. “Everything changed.”

  EIGHTEEN

  Five years went by in Rodin…

  NOT MUCH HAD changed in the town of Rodin. Mr. and Mrs. Vigo lived in their quiet house. It was a peaceful town with friendly neighbors. Mr. Vigo went hunting in the woods every day. He butchered the meat and prepared them for sale in his own meat shop, Vigo’s Meats. Mrs. Vigo spent most of her days looking after the shop, selling the meat to local customers. Occasionally, they traveled to other parts of the Pugg, but most of their business was done in the heart of Rodin.

  The day was ending as they closed the shop. He washed his hands and cleaned up while she counted the day’s profit. She placed the money into the lockbox under the front counter. Business had been slow for the past few days, giving her time to plan her son’s upcoming birthday. In three days, he would turn seventeen. She was planning a surprise party. There were a number of things she needed to do before the big day. Invitations to neighbors and classmates had already been sent. Now, she needed to focus on the final stages of planning. “Honey,” she called, “I’m going over to talk with Mrs. Shepherd,” she lowered her voice to a half whisper, “about the you-know-what.”

  “Darling, the boy isn’t here. You don’t need to whisper in riddles.”

  “I’m just being careful. You never know who’s listening. I want to make sure everything is perfect.”

  “I’m sure it will be,” he replied. “You are really outdoing yourself with all of this planning.”

  “Well, our Vincent deserves it. He’s a good boy.”

  Vince entered through the front door carrying a large bag full of raw meat. “Hi, Father. I have more deer meat.”

  “Excellent, son. You’ve been a lot of help around here.”

  “I like hunting. It’s fun.”

  “Good. Soon you will be doing all of the hunting. I’m getting too old to go out every day.”

  His mother walked to the front door and waved to both of them. “Bye. I should be back before dinner.”

  “Where are you going?” Vince asked.

  “Just for a walk.”

  She walked down the stone trail to the road. As she strolled along the side, she came across two lawmen. She recognized one of them: Law Chief Darren, head of Rodin law enforcement. His tall, chiseled figure conveyed strong authority. Next to him was a shorter, much younger man, whom she did not recognize. They both wore lawmen uniforms: simple brown vests over a plain black shirt. Stitched in the corner of their vest was the town crest. A large tortoise climbing a pyramid. The words Live Free Forever were printed underneath. Their trousers were loose and baggy. Fine leather straps were wrapped around their waists, equipped with a holster for their batons. They wore wide-brimmed hats, tilted down to block the sun. A silver star was mounted on Law Chief Darren’s hat.

  As she passed, Darren tipped his hat, �
�Good evening Mrs. Vigo.”

  She nodded in return, “And to you Law Chief. On your daily patrol?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’m showing Manny here the patrol route. It’s his first day.” Manny tipped his hat as well. She responded with another nod. “What brings you outside at this hour?” Darren asked. “You should be home sharing a meal with your family right about now.” He gazed up at the sky. “Though I suppose this is fine weather for an evening stroll.”

  “Yes. It is quite nice out tonight. Although, that’s not why I’m out. I’m off to visit Mrs. Shepherd, to make the final plans for my son’s birthday.”

  “Oh yes, of course! How old is little Vincent turning?”

  “Seventeen.” she answered.

  “I guess he’s not so little anymore.”

  “I know; they grow so fast.”

  “They sure do.”

  “Are you coming to the party. You’re more than welcome.”

  “I’d love to, but I’ll be on duty. Someone has to look over Manny, after all.”

  Manny tipped his hat again.

  She nodded back. “Well, if you change your mind, we’ll save a spot for you. Both of you.”

  “Much thanks, ma’am. Have a pleasant evening.”

  Manny tipped his hat one last time and followed the Law Chief down the road.

  She continued down her path, following the road to its end. Around the corner, two houses down, she saw the Shepherd residence. It was a cozy, one-story building. Its white coat looked freshly painted. A tall brick chimney poked out from the roof. Plain square windows complimented the extravagant red door. She walked up the stone trail and planted three polite knocks. The door swung open to a young boy.

  “Hello, Saul. Is your mother home?” The boy wandered off, calling for his mother.