Undone: A Dystopian Fiction Novel (8 page)

“You guys hear that, right?”

It was Tyrsa. By the glow of the light, we could see her and Beth, both wearing sweatshirts.

“Someone’s trying to break in again,” Rick said sternly.

He swung his legs around the bunk and slid to the ground. He had his socks pulled all the way up to his knees.

“Let’s light a candle this time. So we can see a little better if they get in.”

Rick, Lawrence, and I gathered our weapons. I felt determined and less afraid than I did the first time. The door was strong and we were ready. Thinking about beating someone with a hammer was no longer unfamiliar.

Beth and Tyrsa hung back in the living room, facing the door, ready to take on anyone who came through who wasn’t us. Tyrsa had her gun out and Beth had the makeshift spear Tyrsa had made. Already high on adrenaline, the boys and I went out to the hall, making sure the apartment door was locked behind us. We had a single candle in a short glass jar. Rick set it down against the wall, the light washing up the wall in a curved beam. It was just enough light so we could faintly see each other’s faces. The thumping was getting louder and we could hear shouting. My confidence wavered. The door had been weakened from the first attempted break-in. The frame was splintering. Suddenly, the looters gave an extra hard push, and the frame shattered, rendering the lock useless. We stiffened, gripping our weapons tighter. This was it. This was war.

The first looter was about my height, with a shaved head and all-black clothes. He carried a hatchet, which was the first thing I noticed in the dim light of the single candle. He looked surprised when he rushed in, but responded much faster than I anticipated. He shouted, automatically ducking, as Rick swung the baseball bat. It missed him, but struck the person behind him. Lawrence lunged at the hatchet before he could take a hit at Rick, and they fell tumbling back out the smashed backdoor. They hit the ground hard, right by the guy who had gotten hit with the back. They struggled with the hatchet for a few moments, but Lawrence managed to get in a strong punch. Rick and I ran forward into the cold, tripping over the fallen bodies, and began swinging at anything that moved. I felt my hammer come in contact with human heads and arms, and ignored the sickening feeling the cracking and bumping sound provoked in me. I had no idea how many people there were. I didn’t take the time to let my eyes adjust to the darkness. There was a flashlight, but whoever held it was flailing around. I hit the flashlight’s owner, sending the flashlight rolling on the ground by Rick’s feet. He snatched it up and shone it around the yard.

“Anyone else want some?” he cried.

The flashlight revealed nothing but trees, grass, and some crumpled up-bodies. Four to be exact, counting the ones behind us. We stood in silence for a few moments, our hearts all pounding like a chorus of drums. I nudged one of the bodies with my foot, rolling them over. He wore a face mask so I couldn’t see his features. He was barely conscious, softly moaning. I breathed a sigh of relief. I hadn’t killed him. Lawrence, who had incapacitated his victim, stood up and wiped his nose.

“I think…”

Lawrence’s voice stopped mid-sentence. I swung around to see what was wrong, but something cold and hard struck me over the head. I reeled back, head spinning, and tried to raise my hands to shield myself, but I was struck again. Someone had come around from behind us. They moved frighteningly fast; I couldn’t get a good look at them. I punched the air, but my attacker grabbed my wrists and brought his skull smashing down into mine. I could hear Rick’s voice, shouting, but couldn’t do anything but sink to my knees. Everything went dark.

“Aw, shit, you didn’t kill him, did you?”

“No, he’s breathing, relax.”

The voices were unfamiliar. They broke through the haze of my brain and brought me back to reality. After the voices, the first thing I was aware of was how much my head hurt. It throbbed in unison with my heartbeat and I felt the wetness of blood on my face. My eyes fluttered open. It was surprisingly bright. There were several large battery-operated lanterns set around the floor as well as candles. Since my eyes had gotten so used to adjusting quickly to darkness, it didn’t take long for me to take stock of my surroundings. Four young men stood around me. I recognized one as the bald guy who had come through the door first. Lawrence had given him two black eyes. We were in the apartment, in the living room, and when I looked down at myself, I realized I was tied up with paracord in a chair. Rick and Lawrence were bound as well, their faces black and blue from bruises. Lawrence’s lip had been split and it had swollen to twice its usual size. I looked around frantically for the girls.

“What...what happened?” I moaned. “Who...who are you?”

“See? I told you he wasn’t dead!”

The speaker was big, bigger than Rick even. He had shaggy black hair and thick-rimmed glasses that were slightly askew, like they had been accidentally stepped on. I noticed he had two handguns, one in his hand, and the other in a holster. He was also wearing all-black, with black mittens that had the fingers cut off. He smirked at me.

“You gave Dirk and Tim a pretty good beating out there,” he said, gesturing towards the bald guy and another man, who held a towel to his face.

He pulled down the towel and held a flashlight to his face to reveal a nasty cut ringed by deep purple right by his eye. I couldn’t help but wince. He must have been the man in the face mask.

“Yeah. You’re pretty handy with a hammer, man.”

Shaggy Hair thrust out his hand and pulled rather roughly on my earlobe.

“I’m Matt. Nice to meet you.”

He looked at me expectantly. I said nothing, but instead glared at him as threateningly as I could muster. Matt smiled and rolled his eyes.

“Aw, come on. You might as well tell me your name. We’re going to be buddies from here on out.”

I looked over at Rick and Lawrence. They were just regaining conscious and looked confused and in pain. I noticed the bald guy, who I assumed was Dirk, begin to move towards them.

“Morgan,” I said, responding to Matt’s question out of fear. “That’s my name.”

“Well, hello,” Matt said. “How about your friends?”

Dirk was crouching by Rick and Lawrence, examining their wounds. They were looking around the room, slowly realizing what was going on, and beginning to struggle. They were lashed together with climbing rope - back to back - with their ankles tied, as well.

“The big guy’s Rick,” I said, “And then Lawrence.”

Matt nodded, mouthing the names under his breath. He nodded at the fourth man, who until now had gone unnoticed. Besides Matt, he looked like the only one who had not been injured. He had a black bandana tied around his head and a septum piercing, which I had not seen very often on men. It gave him a very intimidating look. At Matt’s orders, he disappeared into the hall.

“What about your lady friends?” Matt said, turning my blood cold. “What are their names?”

Septum Piercing returned. He brought two more strange men in with him - men who could easily be twins - who each held a knife to one of the girls’ throats. I began to struggle. I swung my bound feet back and forth, trying to stand, and twisted. Matt laughed, and forced me to be still by grabbing my shoulders.

“Relax, man. They’re fine. We’re not monsters, y’know. We just gotta make sure they don’t freak out. They’re tough bitches. If we hadn’t had you and your bodies, that black girl would’ve shot us.”

Tyrsa muttered something under her breath that Matt chose to ignore. Her eyes gleamed silver in the light of the lanterns.

“So, here’s the deal,” Matt began, his mocking tone turning stern. “We need strong guys like you. You know how to survive, you got some fighting skills, and that’s what we’re looking for. You guys got supplies?”

I said nothing. Matt sighed and stood up.

“That’s fine. We’ll just look ourselves.”

Matt got up and disappeared into the kitchen. I heard him opening cupboards and mumbling to himself. My mind raced, but none of the ideas that emerged were based in logic. Taking on six people with no weapons was an action movie fantasy. In real life, it would get you killed in a heartbeat.

“You guys are pretty well-stocked!” Matt called. “Water, veggies...it’s like going to the store.”

A wave of hopelessness hit me in the chest and I felt like crying. If they took our supplies, they might as well be putting a bullet through each of our brains.

Matt returned with his arms full and a smug expression.

“Check under the furniture,” he instructed Dirk.

Matt picked up a black bag that I hadn’t seen before and filled it with the supplies from the kitchen. We watched, powerless, as Dirk pulled can after can from under the couch and came from the bedrooms with Beth’s art supplies and Tyrsa’s tool box.

“Whoa!” Matt exclaimed, grinning.

Matt and his boys huddled around their booty, counting what they found and high-fiving each other. They were like the frat boys or football players everyone hated. The guys who celebrated beer pong tournament wins like they had just stormed Normandy Beach and got off on porn where women were sexually-humiliated. Hate permeated every bone in my body.

“Well, time to go!” Matt crowed.

Dirk and Tim came at me and I tried to fight them, but one held me down while the other loosened my ties.

“You’re all coming with us,” Matt explained. “Moving house. It’s really a good thing for you, considering we kinda broke your door.”

I was pulled to my feet. My hands were bound again. Rick and Lawrence were untied except for their wrists, and we were pushed into a rickety line. Matt led while the twins took the sides. Dirk and Tim took the back. Septum Piercing walked next to Matt and they spoke in whispers. I felt a poke in my back. Turning, I saw Dirk holding out his hatchet. He had poked me with the handle. He winked.

We had become prisoners. Leaving the house made my chest constrict. I thought frantically about everything we had left behind; clothes, books, phones...Mom hadn’t heard from me in weeks. She was probably frantic with worry. I suddenly felt guilty. I hadn’t really been thinking about her much this past month, about how she was feeling. After our phones had finally died and going out to find a place to charge wasn’t an option, I had kind of put her out of my mind. I say “kind of” because it wasn’t like I had completely forgotten her, but I didn’t worry about her. I had been so focused on myself, on the day to day, on making sure I followed Tyrsa’s instructions about water and food. I was selfish. If I had really wanted to, like
really
wanted to, I could have found a way to contact Mom. This realization made me feel sick. Now we were in real trouble, we might even get killed. Would Mom ever find out? Or would we just disappear into the past, in a town no one cared about, like so many people who didn’t have the resources to make the world pay attention? She would be left to pick up the pieces. The dead had it easy. They just got to die and get it over with. It was the people left behind who really suffered.

We walked for what seemed like forever. Our captors were confident, like guards patrolling a beat. All the houses were sealed up tight; if anyone was peering out at us, we would have never known it. Without a sweatshirt or coat, I soon felt freezing, and my head still hurt.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“You’ll see,” Matt replied.

Great.

It had been a while since we had come this way. Things did not look good. Trash filled the streets and I could hear rats fighting from inside bags and tipped-over dumpsters. Matt and his crew kicked cans out of their way.

“I bet I can kick one farther than you,” Matt bragged to Septum Piercing.

“I’d like to see you try,” his companion replied.

His voice was as frightening as I expected. We were forced to stop while Matt found two cans. He holstered his gun and took a running start. The can went flying and spinning up into the air and disappeared.

              “Not sure how you guys are going to tell how far it went,” Dirk remarked.

              “How high then,” Matt said, amending his previous bet. “Your turn, Jamal.”

              Jamal slung his shotgun around to his back and charged the can. He caught the can at the perfect angle so it went hurtling up, clearly higher than Matt’s, and vanished. Jamal whooped and shoulder-checked Matt.

              “Yeah, yeah,” Matt said, rolling his eyes. “Let’s see how your aim is.”

              He turned to us and pointed.

              “Hey, you. Morgan? Come over here.”

              Dirk poked me in the back again with his hatchet. I stumbled forward.

              “Stand over there,” Matt ordered.

              I followed the direction of Matt’s point and stood alone in the street about ten feet from the group, haloed by a streetlight. I took special notice of the fact that the twins both had their guns out - automatic weapons - and they were pointed straight at my head. Matt picked out two more cans from a pile of trash and set them down on the ground.

              “You wanna go first this time?” he asked Jamal.

              Jamal eyed me up and down. He ran forward and kicked the can. I closed my eyes and automatically tensed my body. I half-expected a bullet to come ricocheting at me. Instead, I felt the sharp edge of the can hit me in the shoulder and bounce off. I opened my eyes. Jamal and Matt erupted into cheers and high-fived.

              “My turn, my turn.”

              Matt kicked his can. It sailed over my head. I heard it hit the street.

              “Ha ha,” Jamal said mockingly.

              Matt kicked the trash bag in frustration. A rat scurried out and bared its teeth at Matt, beady eyes glittering.

              “Gah, shit,” Matt said, leaping out of the way.

              Chuckles rippled among the group. We weren’t sure yet what kind of leader Matt was. Was he the kind who turned on his own if he thought they disrespected him? Would he pull out a gun and shoot someone point-blank for laughing? Thankfully, no such violence occurred. Matt joined in the laughter. He bent over and peered into the bag where the rat had retreated.

              “You gross bastard,” he said, and then stomped on the bag.

              We heard a sharp squeal and then silence. Matt looked into the bag again before straightening.

              “Got him,” he said, satisfied. “Let’s go.”

              By the time we reached our destination, my head felt like it was going to explode. I was terrified that I might have a concussion. I kept dabbing my head with my bound hands, and lowering them to see if I was still bleeding. Some blood came off on my skin, but it wasn’t so bad that it was bleeding freely or anything.