Cost of Survival

by B.R. Paulson

  Chapter 10

  Apparently the camp announced dinner shift with a bell, the first round of diners called with one ding.

  When the bell sounded, I grabbed my full pack and flung it to the floor, kicking the bag into the corner. As much as the sandwiches we hadn’t eaten looked appealing, I needed something more filling.

  Mom knelt in prayer almost twenty minutes ago. No talking or other sound between us but the huffing of our breath, until she stood when I turned the door handle.

  “You can’t leave, Kelly. You don’t know anyone here. I’m not sure if we can even count on the ones I thought I knew. I have no idea how these people are going to act.” She didn’t move other than to point toward the rest of the house and compound.

  I leaned my forehead against the door. “Are you kidding me?” Pausing for a moment, I stared at the simple white lines of the grain of the wood. Finally, I gave in to the rush of anger and disbelief swelling over me. I spun, hurt beyond measure. “Then why are we here? What are we doing? We can do this on our own. I know we can. Let’s go. If you don’t trust them, then why?”

  She rushed to me, pushing the air at waist height with her flat, opened hand. “Shh. Shh. Shh. You have to keep your voice down. They need to think we trust them.” She didn’t speak in a whisper, but more of a hushed, library tone. “You were at the same meeting I was. Didn’t you hear what he said? Come on, Kelly.”

  We stared at each other. So many things unsaid. Too many to get over with a simple conversation. I wanted to cry out, loud as I could, and beg her to leave.

  “You’re going to sleep with Charlie so I’m safe? We’re staying here because he said we can’t leave. How do we know if we haven’t even tried?” How could she not understand what was wrong with that? “We don’t need them.” If I gave her the benefit of the doubt, I could imagine she didn’t understand the bully mentality. But that wasn’t going to work when she was getting raped that evening. “No matter how voluntary you go with him tonight, it’s still rape, Mom.”

  “I know that, Kelly. But can’t you see that at least it’s just me, and not you too?” She pressed her heated face close to mine, eyes searching, pleading with me to understand.

  “We need to leave. Leave now. Please, Mom.” I couldn’t offer her understanding. How was I supposed to go along with her sacrifice when it only protected something as simple as my virginity?

  “Where would we go? This place is everything I’ve been preparing for. Trust me, no one will survive out there by themselves. I’ve done the research and people don’t survive outside of a group.” Adamantly shaking her head, she turned to the window and the paper-thin curtains.

  I folded my arms. Could that be true? I tried to recall any American history from school or anything I might have read to refute her claim, but any historical classes had culled out anything earlier than the 1980s and pop culture. Except for the last few years when the wars had started.

  No, the teachers and administrators loved to replay the media blitzes of most of the Middle East disappearing under nukes while Asia, northern Europe, and the southern countries turned on each other.

  The most famous of memes had been one where the American flag had been depicted sitting in a throne while all the other flags had fought below it, tearing each other apart. The caption had said, “Why fight, when they’ll do it for you?”

  After surviving their own skirmishes, the leaders of the remaining countries had turned on the USA. Good ole US. I couldn’t remember any lesson mentioning the first two World Wars, and there had to be a One and a Two because they referred to this one as Three. To have a third there had to have been a previous two, right? Humanity survived those, we had a chance with this one, too. Right?

  All information about anything other than approved “facts” was destroyed. Even on the internet access to anything pre-1980s required mad skills in the hacking department because most of the time the information was a ghost of what it used to be. I had only been ten when the internet had become “controllable.”

  So Mom could spout off her facts and I would never know. I would never be the wiser, because my education didn’t encompass everything hers did. Hers was the lucky generation.

  “I can volunteer then. You don’t need to do it. Everything about tonight will go against your beliefs and I don’t have any preconceived notions on any of it.” I laughed at myself. “I’m even a virgin still, for crying out loud. Why should you get to have all the fun before we die?” My lips tight, I refused to cry. What the heck were we doing? Talking about which of us would get raped that night to stay in a camp we didn’t feel safe in.

  Mom whirled to me, arms outstretched as she pulled me to her chest. “No. I don’t care how mad at me you are. What happens tonight isn’t how anyone should be treated. We can’t leave. He all but promised me they wouldn’t let us go.”

  Wouldn’t let us go? Great. That made me feel so much better about staying. I hung my head, reaching up to rub my forehead. “Fine. Can we go eat, now?” Starved, I wasn’t only hungry for food, but for conversation with people outside of my reality. Talking with someone who had different information or even a different perception, I might be able to feel a modicum of normalcy. Because I couldn’t help feeling like I had been slammed into a horrible role-playing bit and no one had given me a script.

  “Charlie said we’ll be eating with the second shift. If they at least left the dining rules alone, the first bell is for the first diners. We’ll wait here for the second.” She sank to the mattress, folding her hands in her lap. Demure, her countenance seemed fake after such a fired up encounter. “We could pray for comfort?” She made the suggestion like a question, like I would want to pray for anything.

  Ignoring her, I jerked my thumb toward the door. “I need to use the bathroom. Can I do that?”

  She reclaimed her feet, moving to stand beside me. “I’ll go with you. I don’t know how this works, this claiming or protection thing. They’ve changed so much. Barbarianism never made sense.” Mom touched my arm, forcing me to meet her gaze. “I’m serious, Kelly. Don’t tell anyone your age. If you can’t act twelve, keep quiet, okay?”

  Nodding, if not to agree, then certainly to get us going out the door, I needed to get a lay of the area. If I couldn’t count on Mom to get us out, I had to try myself.