Famished

by Lauren Hammond

  Nobody cleaned up the body. Nobody cared. They were way too worried about taking care of themselves, and the fermented dead were useless to cannibals. Human organs rotted just like old meat.

  Most of the time, I’d sit in the hut with my hands over my ears and my eyes squinted shut, humming quietly to myself to drown out their torturous cries.

  During the day it was impossible to avoid them. I couldn’t face them. Somehow, I saw me and Frankie in those little boys. And even being a teenager, I didn’t know how I would survive if I was in their situation. The answer was I wouldn’t have.

  Then one night their cries started to weaken. Starvation was sneaking up on them and pretty soon they would join their mother, rotting away from the outside in. That was when I broke. I couldn’t handle it anymore. I needed to feed them. They needed a home. And I swore that I would kneel on the ground until my knees were bloody at my parents feet, begging, until my parents helped them.

  First, I did the unthinkable. I stole food from my parents little makeshift garden inside of our hut. Since I took food before the rules were established, I’d gotten away with it. Then, I stalked across the street, in the dead of night, clutching what I could and knelt down to the little boys.

  Both of the boys had ivory pallor’s and big, round blue eyes that stared up at me. They whimpered softly. Their teeth were cracked from eating rocks and their bones were showing through their thin, translucent skin. The stench from their mother’s corpse wandered up my nostrils and I gagged, turning my head away.

  Sharp sobs caught in my throat and I sucked them back, trying to be strong. I smiled, tears watering up in my eyes as I handed each of them two large carrots. “Here you go, little guys.”

  They snatched the carrots from my hands and gobbled them up in one breath. “Do you have anymore?” the elder one asked in his soft child-like tone.

  “Not right now,” I said tearing up again. “But I’ll tell you what, if you’re good little boys, I’ll bring you more tomorrow.”

  They smiled and nodded.

  I didn’t hear a peep from them the rest of the night. When

  the following morning came, I begged my mother. I begged her for hours to let us take them in. “Mom, they’re two little boys! How much could they possibly eat?”

  My mother shook her head. “You know I would in a second, but we barely feed ourselves,” she said, her voice hushed.

  “Then, I won’t eat. Give them my portion.”

  “Georgina, don’t be ridiculous.”

  “I’m not being ridiculous. I won’t eat.”

  My mother glanced at her garden, then at me. She paused for a moment and then finally, she caved. “Go get them. We’ll just eat a little bit less than usual.”

  Only when I went outside to find the little boys, they were gone. Next to their mother’s body, there were two pools of blood and four carrot stems. The cannibals had gotten to them first. After that, I lost control of my emotions. I sobbed so hard that I could barely breathe, lost the small appetite I had, and I didn’t leave our hut until the colony was completely finished.

  My mother and May caught my attention when they came to a halt and I stumbled forward. May gripped my arm tightly, steadying me, and my mother shot me a disapproving glance. “Georgina! Pay attention!” she scolded.

  I blushed, embarrassed that she snapped at me like that in front of May. “Sorry.”

  She exhaled. “Just watch where you’re going, please. You don’t need to have another accident.”

  I nodded. “Will do.”

  We stood in front of the infirmary and May unhooked her arm from mine. “Take it easy, kiddo,” she said, then pulled me in for a short hug.

  “I will. For now,” I answered with a cheesy grin.

  May laughed and turned to my mother. “Glad I could help, Marcy. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  My mother let go of me and hugged May. “Thanks for everything May. Talk to you soon.”

  After May made her exit and we started walking back to my room, I thought that now was a good of time as any to ask my mother about the letter she and my father took to Mr. Baker. “Was Mr. Baker able to help you?”

  “Help me?” she questioned. “With what?”

  “That letter you found with my stuff.” She was so adamant about getting to the bottom of it, I couldn’t believe that she didn’t remember.

  “Oh, no. He said there was no way he could tell who wrote it. He assumed that it was probably a cannibal or a decayed one.”

  “Decayed one?” That was the first time I’d ever heard anyone mention a decayed one. “What are decayed ones?”

  “I’ve never told you about the decayed ones?”

  “No.” Now, I’d come to the conclusion that Mr. Baker and the council weren’t the only ones keeping secrets. Or perhaps it was something my mother didn’t want me to know.

  “Are they like zombies?”

  My mother shook her head. “No. Not at all. Decayed ones are a lot like cannibals.”

  I was confused. “If they are alive, why do you call them

  decayed ones?

  “When the asteroid hit, there were a select number of humans who became disfigured from the radiation. Their eyes would not be like yours and mine. Their skin melted and their eyes dropped down into their cheeks. Or they developed hunchbacks and so on. You get the picture, right?”

  “Yeah.” I got the picture all right. Now I wished I wouldn’t have asked what they were. And now, I understood why she didn’t tell me about them.

  “Anyway,” she went on, “part of their brains fried along with other parts of their bodies and their mind’s no longer function normally. Their speech is limited and they can’t write a lot—childlike, really. Like an adult with the mind of a child. They’re malicious—violent. They too eat humans but unlike cannibals, they will torture you first.

  Most cannibals still have a sound mind. If they had the nourishment that they needed, they wouldn’t kill at all. And cannibals will always kill you first before they feed on you. Not the decayed ones, they eat you alive. They enjoy watching a person squirm up until they take their very last breath.”

  “Have you ever seen one?”

  “Once.” Then she quickly changed the subject. “We’re here.”

  I walked into my room and sat down on my bed. “It’s good to be back.” I smiled.

  “I’m going to go get you some food, okay. Stay here,” my mother commanded as she walked out the door.

  She returned minutes later with a tray full of food. She handed me the tray then went off to find my father. I took a few bites, but after all the talk about cannibals and the decayed ones, I was having a really hard time finding my appetite.

  When Frankie got home from school she spent some time with me before dinner. She tried to entertain me, to snap me out of my sullen mood. Doing her famous Mrs. Edwards impression, she plugged her nose and raised her voice up a level. “Now students,” Frankie mocked, “everyone turn your textbooks to page two!” I giggled softly, pretending to find her impression funny. Normally I would be laughing so hard I’d have a hard time breathing. But not today.

  My accident had sparked a change in me. A change that I couldn’t explain. There were times where I wanted to be the old me, with my obedient yet sarcastic attitude, and the old me who thought about living life to the fullest extent and making the best of what my life had become. I had to face it, the old version of me was gone. And I didn’t know when or if that version of me would ever come back.

  Later on that night, while my family was sound asleep. I lied awake, listening to the sound of Frankie’s soft snoring. I’d dozed off several times since everyone went to bed, but I couldn’t sleep soundly for some reason. My legs were restless, trembling, and twitching while I tossed and turned, so I decided that a walk down the hall might do me some good.

  On my feet, I took one last look at Frankie as she thrashed, rolled over and yelled, “French Fries!” in her sleep.

  I caught
myself laughing and held my breath for a moment. “Yeah,

  Frankie,” I mouthed. “I miss French Fries too.”

  After observing her for another minute, I assured myself that she wasn’t going to wake up. Then I tiptoed quietly toward the door.

  Standing in the hall, I paused briefly before continuing. What if I get caught? I glanced back at my empty bed. Once I was up, I was up. There was no way I could go back to sleep now. If I got caught, I’d just explain that I was feeling a little off and needed to take a walk.

  The hallway was so quiet, the soft thudding from my bare feet sounded loud. How would I explain the dirt on my feet to my mother tomorrow morning? Sometimes, pieces of the dirt wall fell off onto the concrete. I knew she would question it. I hatched a plan about making up some story that I heard something in hall and went to check it out.

  As I strolled forward, dimly lit flames from the candles perched along the wall danced along the border and kept me from being submerged in total darkness. The darkness frightened me. Mainly because I it disabled me from using one of the most important senses: Sight. How can a person form a plan of action if they couldn’t see what they were in for?

  During the early days of colony life, we didn’t have candles in the hall and only a few lights that my father set up using a couple of our generators and several that the gatherers found when they were out searching for supplies. I never left my room back then. I didn’t want to get lost. Our home was still new and that brought fear and uncertainty.

  After walking the entire length of the hallway, I stood at the entrance to the mess hall, gazing out into the black abyss of nothingness. I realized that tomorrow, I would be back there, at my usual table, sitting next to Grace and Colin.

  Colin….

  I wondered how he would act toward me when he saw me again. If I based that on our last encounter, tomorrow was going to be awkward. And it was because of that last encounter that I came to the conclusion that Colin Martin wasn’t going to be of any help to me when it came to my absent memories.

  Turning to go back to my room, I was caught off guard by the sound of footsteps plodding against the concrete floor. Panicking, I spun around in a circle. I needed to find a hiding place until I could confirm who was walking down the hall. I squinted at the boulder covering the hole. I wasn’t strong enough to push it yet, and pushing that massive rock would make more noise than I wanted anyway.

  The open doorways that lined each side of the hall wouldn’t work either. I blanched when I thought of walking through a door and waking up a sleeping family. And not only that, but I’d be in so much trouble for being out of bed after hours.

  The sound of the footsteps grew louder and were accompanied by a whispering voice. “Shhh!” a deep manly voice said. “Not yet!”

  If I ran forward, they would see me for sure. If the footsteps and voices belonged to any of the council members I would be punished for being out of bed after curfew. The men around here weren’t as lenient as the women. Glancing over my shoulder, I centered on the mess hall.

  Inside, I scaled the wall about four feet in. The footsteps were still carrying down the hall so I knew I still had time. Crouching down, I winced out in pain as my knees cracked.

  The multiple, loud cracking sound echoed throughout the mess hall and I heard another voice, “What was that?” Another man said.

  “Don’t worry,” said the first voice. “It was probably nothing.”

  Throwing my hands over my mouth, I took small, short breaths. It was so quiet that I thought any sound I made might give me away. And as far as I knew, I was in the middle of a dangerous situation and it was best for me not to take any chances.

  Cocking my head to the side, I watched the two men who were meeting in secret. Finally, I was able to put faces to the footsteps and voices. Mr. Baker and Colin’s father, Mr. Martin. Come to think of it, what I was doing was actually kind of thrilling. I could see why Frankie found snooping around and eavesdropping appealing.

  Mr. Martin spun around warily. I stared at him intently, picturing Colin as an adult. Their resemblance to one another was uncanny. The only difference was Mr. Martin was a few pounds overweight and had grey streaks through his midnight hair. “Are you sure everyone is asleep?” he asked.

  “Positive,” Mr. Baker replied. “I checked everyone’s quarters myself.”

  “So,” Mr. Martin began, raising his voice slightly. “Has it been decided, then? Are we going to rig the results of the lottery again?”

  Rig the results of the lottery again? My breath caught in my lungs. I felt myself getting dizzy. They had complete control over the lottery the first time. They planted my name and Colin’s in there on purpose. Those jerks!

  And Colin…. Colin knew about it all along! I couldn’t believe it. He seemed so sincere when spoke about protecting me and he was behind this whole plan from the beginning. But why? Were his advances toward me fake too? Was it just an act to get me to trust him? So I wouldn’t suspect what was going on?

  Mr. Baker nodded. “I’m afraid so.”

  “So who is going in for the boys?”

  Mr. Baker brushed his forefinger against his lips.

  “How about Dylan Edwards?”

  Mr. Martin considered that. “The Edwards boy is a good choice.”

  “I would rather your son go in again. I think she might have a fondness for him.”

  They were talking about me! During that moment I thanked God for Frankie. If it wasn’t for her this would have been a complete blind side. I assumed it was coming, but I never expected to feel so betrayed, by Colin especially.

  “We can’t send Colin in twice. Then the colonists will definitely know that it’s been rigged,” Mr. Martin commented.

  “How will we explain the Carver girl being selected again?”

  Mr. Martin shrugged. “We’ll call it a fluke.”

  As I took in their conversation, I mentally bantered with myself on whether or not I should tell somebody. Oh, when my mother found out, she was going to blow a gasket. How could my parents have been so naïve? I didn’t think that either one of them had a clue about what Mr. Baker and Mr. Martin were up to.

  Me, I was like my mother. Neither one of us liked or trusted Mr. Baker. But, my father, he went on confiding in him like he was God’s gift to this colony. My father needed to have his head examined.

  Mr. Baker propped himself against the wall. “Georgina Carver is too smart for her own good. You better believe she’ll wreak havoc when her name is selected a second time. She’s got that strong-willed nature about her. Just like her mother. It’s important that nobody, I repeat nobody speaks of this outside our circle. If the Carver girl catches wind of it, she might plot something and we can’t have that before she’s eliminated.”

  Eliminated. What did he mean eliminated?

  “She’ll never find out,” Mr. Martin promised. “The only people who know anything about it are you, me, Colin, and Hank Edwards. I know for certain that none of them will talk.”

  “It’s a shame it has to be this way, but we are running low on food and supplies. We have too many mouths to feed and aren’t producing enough to keep the whole colony fed.”

  “Sometimes, you need to destroy things in order to rebuild them.”

  “Or wipe them out entirely.”

  “So it’s done, then,” Mr. Martin stated. “Do you want me to handle rigging the names or do you want to do it this time?”

  Mr. Baker straightened himself out. “I’ll do it this time. There is a secret doorway in my room. It’s covered by an old rug. Place the box in there and I’ll configure everything sometime tomorrow.”

  “It will be there,” Mr. Martin said.

  “You know,” Mr. Baker began, “We’re lucky we’ve found a way to do this over. The Carver girl was never supposed to come back. She was supposed to end up just like the Vickers girl.”

  Chapter 15: The Truth Shall Set You Free

  Darkness which may be felt.~ Exodus 10:21
>
  For a while, I just sat alone in the mess hall consumed by the darkness. My mind was still processing key items from the conversation that I had just heard. Murder. These people were murderers. They conspired and had Monica Vickers killed. And now they were plotting to murder me! Over food!

  The worst part was, that this plan Mr. Baker developed, about secretly murdering people to conserve food, wasn’t going to stop with me. Who was it going to be next? Grace?

  Poor Monica. My heart went out to her, wherever she was. She was young, beautiful and kind, a lot like May. She didn’t deserve to die, especially over freaking portion control. If our food supply was running low, why couldn’t they just ask people to take less? I would have gladly sacrificed half of my food if I knew it would have kept Monica alive and well.

  What would her family say when they found out? Would they believe me if I told them? I had no reason to lie or make up such a story, but Mr. Baker had this slimy way about him when it came to manipulating people. No… I couldn’t tell them. Not yet.

  As I picked myself up off the cold, damp floor, an empty feeling swirled around in the pit of my stomach, and it wasn’t because I was hungry. It surfaced because I felt used, like a pawn in a game that I wasn’t invited to participate in. My life had no value to these people. They should have just chained me up and sold me off into slavery. Even a life of slavery had to be better than being surrounded by greedy, manipulative people who were full of lies.

  How could I face Colin tomorrow, knowing what I knew now? Instead of feeling butterflies whenever he entered the room, I’d feel nauseated. Listening to the sound of his deep, once beautiful voice, would make my skin crawl. Separating the way I used to feel about him and my feelings for him now were going to be harder than anything I’d ever done. Colin was a con. A great big con artist. And I blamed myself for all of this more than anything because I bought everything he sold.

  At the time, he had me genuinely believing he cared about me. Still confused, I debated on whether he was acting or not. He had to be, but there was so many times, where he displayed a chivalrous side. Like when he made his promise to me. “I promise I won’t let anything happen to you. I will always protect you.” Or when he touched me tenderly, gazing deep into my eyes.