by R A Doty
Cain grabbed the arm on the tray and tore at its flesh with his teeth. It was the best thing he had ever tasted. He tore off bite after bite, never once wondering where the meal came from. Another sinner David had saved, he thought. He wondered briefly, between bites, how many members of the congregation were left. Betty began to walk away, so Cain grabbed her wrist, motioning with a nod of his head for her to sit. She did. Cain continued eating until every morsel of flesh had been picked from the bones. He then dropped the skeletal remains of the arm onto the metal tray and slid the back of his hand across his mouth. He nodded to Betty, who responded with a slight smile.
“I’m afraid that’s all that’s left,” Betty said, looking down at the tray. “But David will provide for us somehow.” Who would be next? she thought. The old? The young? One who coughed too loud, or spoke out of turn? The not-so-attractive? She had always wondered why somebody would kill oneself. What could possibly compel a person to such a sad state? The answer was now very clear.
THE following morning, Cain ventured out into the church. There were less than twenty people sitting in the pews. Fifteen people, to be exact, after a brief head-count. He searched for Betty, but she wasn’t there. Neither was David. Those that were, looked broken. Their heads rose briefly when he entered the room, but soon fell back toward the floor. How long ago had they lost their will to live? Days? Weeks? Months? He had lost his ten years ago when he lost Shannon. Since that day, survival had become a matter of chance, and the odds had somehow always been in his favor. Without saying a word, he walked down the aisle and out the door. Maybe never to return.
The ocean crashed against the rocky shoreline in the distance and the scent drew him forward. The sound of the waves was beautiful. Beckoning. One would truly be blessed to have seen the ocean and experience such beauty just before dying. It was better to choose how you would like to die than to have it chosen for you. It seemed like just days ago that he had struggled so hard to make it to the mainland from the city in the ocean, and now all he wanted was to return to the water. As he drew closer, the waves crashed louder. The last obstacle preventing him from reaching it was one row of buildings. Behind them lie his destiny. He stopped walking and stood quietly, his head tilted slightly. An odd sound intertwined with the crashing of the waves. A humming sound. He continued walking until the entire ocean became visible. In the distance, a boat bounced over the waves, heading in his direction. A boat from the island city he remembered all too well. Cain hurried to the shoreline and hid behind a row of half-rotted pylons sticking out of the ground. Between the wooden columns he could see the boat drawing nearer. His heart hammered at the thought of killing somebody from that island. Even if he could only kill one of them it would be something, compared to the masses they must have killed over the years.
As he studied the boat, a white dot became visible across the ocean. It was another boat, heading in the same direction as the first. Only going much faster.
Chapter Sixteen
ANCADA
Bill Weston’s Office
Bill Weston, the Power Elite’s recently chosen leader of the city of Ancada, leaned back in his executive desk chair with a blank expression on his face. On the outside, he seemed quite calm and understanding, but on the inside, he was about to explode. The man standing on the other side of his desk, chief officer, James Mitchell, sensed Weston’s conflict of character and therefore chose to remain silent until Weston absorbed what he had just told him. Then Mitchell fumbled with his fingers and accidentally cracked one of his knuckles. He lowered his head, having immediately captured Weston’s attention.
Weston stared at officer Mitchell, trying to calm down before speaking. “I just want to understand one thing, Mitchell,” he said, glaring into the man’s face. Mitchell slowly raised his head. Having gained the officer’s undivided attention, Weston continued. “How could an entire staff of security have let two very important, and I can’t stress that enough, very important young females escape?” Weston walked around the desk and stood just inches away from Mitchell. “Do you have any idea how important those females are?” Weston waited for an answer that never came. He studied the man, as if trying to read his thoughts through his eyes. “Of course, you don’t,” he continued. “How could you possibly know how many hours and weeks and months, hell, years, I’ve been working on a solution to Ancada’s food shortage, and when I’m suddenly on the verge of a solution, you let it escape. That young nutrimen holds the answer to our problem.”
“I understand, sir. We’ll get her back.”
“If she and the other female escape to the mainland, they’ll never survive. And they must survive, especially the younger one. We have to continually monitor her progression to be able to classify the experiment as a success or a failure.”
“I have a team following them as we speak.”
Weston studied Mitchell’s face. “Do not allow that team to return unless those females are accompanying them. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
Weston slowly walked back around the desk. Officer Mitchell headed toward the exit door.
“Keep me posted,” Weston said, stopping him as he reached for the doorknob.
“I will.”
After Officer Mitchell closed the door, Weston turned and stared at the ocean through the window. Far in the distance, he could see the silhouette of the mainland as the sunlight glistened on the waves. “They’ll never survive.”
THE Mainland
A boat raced across the ocean, heading straight for a small strip of beach about twenty-feet wide. Behind the beach towered walls of tall buildings. Amidst the outstretched concrete fingers reaching toward the sky, stood a shiny cross standing solitarily—a beacon of hope amongst the ruins of a once thriving city. Two girls stood at the helm of the boat, watching the mainland draw closer.
“We’re going really fast, April,” one of the girls yelled, the wind whipping her hair. “We have to start slowing down.”
“I’m trying to, Calla, but I can’t figure out how. Everything is different from what I remember. These controls are foreign.”
“Try something else, then. Turn off the key.”
“There isn’t a key. I reduced the throttle, but the propulsion is still pushing us forward. I can’t slow it down.”
“April, we’re gonna crash!”
Calla grabbed April and squatted to the floor, holding her tight. When the boat hit the beach, and skidded to a stop in the sand, her and April’s body slammed forward against the interior. They fell backward onto the floor, April’s head smashing into Calla’s right eye. Both girls lay lifeless on the deck. The boat’s propeller cut into the sand, a cloud of smoke billowing from the motor. With a slight twist of her neck, April was the first to move. With her eyes closed, and her face scrunched with pain, she gently touched the back of her head. She opened her eyes and stared at the blood on her palm. Calla? Calla lay unconscious.
“Are you injured, Calla?” she said. She touched Calla’s arm and shook it gently. “Calla, can you hear me?” Waiting quietly, she listened for a response, but what she heard didn’t come from Calla. She looked out toward the ocean and saw the boat heading in their direction. “Calla, you have to wake up!” She shook Calla’s body with both hands. The boat drew closer.
CAIN fell backward onto the sand, trying to dodge the boat heading in his direction. It stopped in the sand just ten feet away. He crawled back to the pylons and crouched as the second boat approached. With his head pressed against the wooden columns, he peeked between them and watched as the second boat slowed to a stop. Three men dressed in red, jumped off the boat and waded through the shallow water. They cautiously approached the first boat, their hands pressed against the hull as they proceeded to the helm. After climbing aboard the vessel, one of the men bent down out of view, and then reappeared with a girl standing by his side. The other two men bent down as well, and appeared with another girl propped between them. The second girl’s body was l
imp, her head tilted forward.
Through gritted teeth, and clenched fists, Cain glared at the men’s red uniforms. He remembered waking, strapped to a gurney, the terrified faces of men surrounding him, each strapped to similar gurneys. He remembered the burning, deep into his throat, and the day his voice was silenced forever. He stood and tromped toward the boat as two of the three uniformed men jumped over its side. The first of the men got a hard fist to the face. Before the second could react, Cain grabbed his head between his hands and twisted it sideways. The neck cracked, and the man fell into the water next to the first. The third man reached for a weapon clasped to his belt, but Cain had climbed onto the boat before the weapon was drawn. The man backed up, and Cain slowly followed. With a closed fist, the man swung his right arm, but Cain grabbed it mid-swing. A quick twist of the arm brought the man wailing to his knees.
Cain looked down upon the man staring up at him. He had waited far too long for this moment of revenge. His entire body pulsated with adrenaline. The man fell backward onto the deck, and Cain dropped to his knees and straddled his chest. His two powerful hands easily circumferenced the man’s throat. With bulging eyes, the man violently kicked in vain. When the kicking stopped, Cain released his grip. He raised his head, studying the girls in front of him, one lying on the floor, the other knelt by her side. He stood. In five steps, he was standing directly in front of the girls. He lowered his hand, and the girl kneeling took it, her hand noticeably trembling. Cain helped her to her feet and then bent down and picked up the other girl. David would know what to do with them.
Chapter Seventeen
APRIL walked fast, trying to keep up with the man beside her. Calla’s legs dangled from the man’s arms as he carried her through the city. When they stopped in front of the church, the man looked at April and then nodded at the door. She rushed over and pushed the handle. The door opened. The man continued forward. Walking through the church, April glanced at the people as they turned to look from the shadows. Some she made eye contact with, others made her uneasy, for reasons she didn’t understand. One man, close to the center aisle, stood as they passed. April hurried her pace to stay close to the man carrying Calla. They passed through the room filled with benches and proceeded down a hallway. It reminded April of the hallways in the kennel. White and colorless. Darker, though. They stopped in front of a door, and the man kicked it with his foot. After twenty seconds, the man kicked the door again. Harder.
The door opened and David Crullen appeared, his hair disheveled, fumbling with his belt. “Brother Cain,” he said. He eyed the two girls. “What have we here?”
Cain nudged him aside and entered the room. Betty stood at the foot of the bed, her arms pulled close to her body. Cain turned slowly and looked at David, who avoided eye contact. He then walked to the bed and lowered the girl.
Betty rushed to his side, her hand immediately grabbing the girl’s wrist, searching for a pulse. After feeling the faint tapping of a heartbeat, she studied the girl from head to toe. There were no noticeable wounds or injuries. She noticed the other girl standing quietly just inside the door. “Come here child. What’s your name?”
The girl walked to the bed. “April.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, April. My name’s Betty.”
Betty looked down at the girl on the bed. “And what’s her name?”
“She is Calla. Can you help her?”
“I’ll try. What happened to her?”
“Our boat crashed. I think my head hit her face.” She lowered her head to reveal her wound.
Betty studied the back of April’s head. The wound had stopped bleeding. “That’s a nasty cut, but you’ll be fine. I’ll take care of you once we deal with your friend.”
“She’s my sister.”
“Is your sister allergic to any medications?”
April shook her head. “I’m not sure. We haven’t known each other that long.”
The answer puzzled Betty and she briefly wondered how that was possible if they were sisters. But that had to wait. For now, her only concern was to help the girl lying on her bed. There was a small bump on the girl’s forehead, just above her eye, but it didn’t seem serious enough to render her unconscious. She carefully ran her fingers through the girl’s hair, and that’s when she felt the much larger bump on the back of her head. She rolled her over and parted the hair with her fingers. A deep gash opened and began to bleed.
“David, can you get me some clean water and a towel from the kitchen?” she said.
“Of course. I’ll be right back.”
Betty opened a drawer in a dresser and pulled out a clean white sock. She grabbed Cain’s hand and placed it in his palm. “Press this tight to her head and don’t stop until I say.”
Cain did as he was told. The girl’s head moved forward as he pushed the sock against the wound.
Betty rushed to the bathroom and returned with a bottle of antiseptic that she placed on the top of the dresser. She then opened another drawer and retrieved a sewing kit. Just as she removed a needle and spool of black thread, David returned with the towel and water.
Betty took the towel and dampened it with the water. “Okay, Cain. I got it now, you can let go.”
Cain removed his hand and stepped out of the way. Betty sat next to the girl and began to clean the blood from her hair while applying pressure with the sock using her other hand. She glanced at the other girl, who was standing quietly in the corner, noticeable concerned.
“Your sister’s going to be fine, April. She’s just got a nasty bump on the back of her head.” It was easy to say, but deep inside, Betty questioned if it was true. She had no real way of knowing, and the test of time would ultimately be the only way to be sure.
CAIN AND DAVID HAD left the room, and April watched silently as Betty stitched the wound on the back of Calla’s head. It was fascinating to see the flesh being drawn together with the thread. She had seen the procedure being done on Calla’s tablet, but to see it happening right in front of her was gratifying beyond belief.
“How long will it take for the blood to coagulate?” April asked.
Betty stopped and turned to April, who was standing surprisingly close. “Not long at all, once the wound is closed.” She continued stitching the cut. “Are you interested in medicine?”
“Very much so. Life fascinates me. I think Calla may have experienced a minor concussion from the trauma to her head. Now that you have stopped the bleeding, she should be fine.”
Betty was not only surprised at the tone of confidence in April’s statement, but in her knowledge of medicine as well. “You seem very intelligent for a girl your age,” she said, cutting the thread from the needle and tying it into a knot. “Did they teach you that in school?” After placing a bandage on the wound, she guided Calla’s head, face up, onto the pillow.
“Did who teach me?”
“The people you live with. Where you came from.” Betty turned to April. “Where, exactly, did you come from? And why were you on a boat?” A thousand questions had suddenly entered Betty’s mind. Who were these girls and why are they alone on a boat without any parents? And how are they surviving on their own?
“You have a very pretty voice,” April said.
“Well, thank you. But that doesn’t answer my question, sweetie.” Betty patted the bed. “Sit.”
April sat on the mattress, being mindful of Calla. She stoked Calla’s face with the back of her hand.
Betty continued. “Where’d you come from child?” She cupped the girl’s chin to gain her attention.
“Ancada.”
“The island in the ocean?”
April nodded.
“Won’t they be worried that you’re gone?”
April lowered her head. “They want to kill me. And they would have if Calla hadn’t saved me.”
“Why would they want to kill you?”
“Because that’s why they created me and the others.”
“Others? You mean
there are others like you that are in danger?”
April thought of Manolin. She nodded. What was to become of him? She wondered what he might be doing. Sitting on the cube? Looking through the fence at the ocean? Waiting to be fed? Her head filled with emotions and her eyes began to blur. She leaned to the woman sitting beside her and wrapped her arms around her. Water streamed from her eyes and quick gasps of air left her lungs.
“It’s okay, sweetie,” Betty said, cupping April’s head in her hand. “You’re safe now.”
“April?” a voice said.
Betty and April looked down at the bed.
Chapter Eighteen
LIFE had become nothing more than a search for food. Each day drew closer to death-by-starvation, and survival had been broken down to the simplest, rawest form of animal instinct. It was no longer a question of killing, but when to kill. Any excuse would justify the act and another day would pass, paving the way for more excuses to kill. Sometimes fate would provide and no excuses were necessary, relieving oneself of guilt. As Cain walked toward the two boats to collect the men’s bodies, guilt was the last thing on his mind. The congregation would be fed, and for a brief moment in time food wouldn’t be as much a concern. For a brief moment.
The water surrounding the boats was too calm. Something wasn’t right. Two of the three bodies should still be floating. The tide couldn’t have taking them already. Cain waded around the first boat and searched under the water. No bodies. He climbed onto the boat and immediately noticed the drag-mark of blood that started where the third man’s body had been left, and ended near the edge of the boat, suggesting the body had gone over the side. He jumped into the water, assuming the man, had tried to escape, but found nothing. He swam to the second boat and climbed aboard. The boat’s cabin had been ransacked. Anything that could have been easily removed was gone. Cabinet doors were opened and cushions had been ripped from seats. Cain left the cabin and scanned the shoreline. A perfectly silent breeze caressed his face as he stared at the motionless city in the distance. The search for food had once again become top priority, but a new excuse to kill would be needed. Who to kill was the only question.