Undone: A Dystopian Fiction Novel (9 page)

We entered an area of town where there were fewer streetlights. The twins, who we learned were named Sam and Chris, turned on their solar lanterns so we could see where we were walking. We came up to a large building surrounded by a chain-link fence. Matt pulled out a key from his pants pocket. It was on a chain with several other keys and a pocket knife. He unlocked the fence and pushed open the gate.

              “Welcome home,” he said.

They had colonized one of the truck warehouses. When we entered, we were nearly blinded by the presence of electricity.  Looking up, I saw nests of wires bundled together. They must have equipped the lights with a generator of some kind. When my eyes stopped seeing white and black spots and my vision returned to normal, I was met by the sight of ten or so people set up in the warehouse like it was a refugee camp. Tents popped up in scattered clumps along with sleeping bags and lawn chairs. Everyone looked up when we entered. Matt opened his arms like a king returning from a conquest.

“We’ve brought back new blood!” he cried.

There was some loose applause.

“Aw,” Matt said, looking back at us with a fake pout. “They didn’t miss me.”

We were led to an empty spot in the warehouse. Matt put his hand on his holster and positioned himself in front of us.

“Ok,” he began, “So you probably want to know what the deal is here.”

We said nothing. Matt continued.

“We’re basically a special community here. All young, strong guys who can break into houses, can take a punch, and want to stay alive. The ladies, like you pretty girls, stay here and take care of the cooking, cleaning, that kind of thing. Yeah, it’s kind of old-fashioned, there are some girls who aren’t too fond of that, but it’s just simpler that way. We go out at night. New guys go on first, kind of like the first line of defense. You usually get beat up pretty bad, like Dirk and Tim there, but if we get new guys, you move up. We try to keep each other alive, so don’t worry about that. What do ya’ll think about that?”

“We don’t have much a choice, so that doesn’t really matter,” Rick said sneeringly.

One eye was nearly swollen shut and when he spoke, I saw that his teeth were red with blood. His good eye burned with hate. Matt shrugged, and chuckled.

“No, not much of a choice, but it just makes it easier for everyone if you don’t argue with us.”

              A young woman brought us sleeping bags and pointed to a pile of clothes in a large Tupperware set in the middle of the room.

              “One outfit per week,” she said. “When they get dirty, put them in a garbage bag for washing.”

              Matt winked at her as she walked away, but she didn’t respond. Her body language was exhausted, drooping, and she walked like she carried weights on her arms and legs.

              “That’s Mary,” he said. “Nice girl. Bit on the surly side.”

              I didn’t know if he expected a response, so I just nodded. Matt yawned and stretched his arms above his head.

              “Boy, I’m sleepy,” he remarked. “Like I said, the men sleep during the day, minus a few guards to make sure the girls don’t get in any trouble. Don’t think about trying to sneak out. It won’t work, trust me.”

              Matt patted his holsters. I swallowed hard, tasting iron.

              “Jamal’s girl will show you the ropes. Get you settled. Well, good night!”

              Matt sauntered off abruptly. The other members of his crew filtered away, casting warning looks in our direction. I noted that the twins went back towards the door and took their seats in two lawn chairs facing the room, their guns across their laps. I supposed if anyone were to run towards the doors, they would be met by a spray of bullets. Left alone, we all sat down, though it was more like collapsing, on the sleeping bags. The bags were thin and I still felt chilly. Even with the body heat that was generated by the number of people in the room, the warehouse was not insulated and most of the warmth just escaped right through the walls.

              “I’m sorry, guys,” Rick said, hanging his head in despair.

              “It’s not your fault, man,” Lawrence insisted. “We were way out numbered.”

              “They just snuck up on us,” Rick said, as if he hadn’t heard Lawrence. “We should have just stayed inside, drawn them out.”

              “It doesn’t matter now,” Tyrsa said. “Don’t think about it.”

              “I’m just glad no one got really hurt,” Beth added. “In a weird way, it’s good that they brought us here. If they just took our supplies and left us, it’d be like killing us. Or they might have just murdered us outright.”

              I nodded. Tyrsa looked at me. She reached out and gingerly touched my head. Her fingertips felt cold on my skin.

              “Are you ok? You don’t look so good.”

              “I’m afraid I might have a concussion,” I said. “My head is killing me.”

              Tyrsa parted her lips to speak, but suddenly stopped. She was looking at something behind me. I turned, and saw a woman approaching us. She wore skintight camo pants, black leg warmers, steel-toed boots, and an Ivy Tech sweatshirt. She walked like she was in charge.

             
Jamal’s girlfriend?
I wondered to myself.

              “Hi,” the woman said. “I’m Ariel.”

              She looked at us expectantly. For a moment, we didn’t know what she was waiting for.

              “Oh,” Tyrsa said, catching on. “I’m Tyrsa.”

              “Lawrence.”

              “Rick.”

              “Beth.”

              “Morgan.”

              Ariel nodded, looking at each of us intensely in the face as we spoke our names. She made me feel nervous. It felt like we had just joined some kind of army. That wasn’t very far from the truth, though, looking back at it.

              “So here’s how things work around here,” Ariel began, her voice commanding. “This is your spot. You do your sleeping and eating here. If you wanna have sex here, go ahead, we don’t care. Just don’t get anyone pregnant.”

             
Weird,
I thought.

              “You all get one outfit from the bin over there. One per week. An “outfit” means pants, socks, shirt, and coat or sweatshirt. Since you’re already wearing clothes right now, you get one sweatshirt or coat apiece. When those get dirty, you put them in the pile with the rest of them. Nothing is exclusively “yours” anymore. Same goes with the supplies that came with you.”

             
“Came with us.” That were stolen, you mean,
I thought bitterly.

              “Food is rationed out at the beginning of every week. Two thousand calories per person. If you think you need more, tough beans. If you actually get sick because it’s not enough, we’ll revisit your individual ration. And we’ll know if you’re faking it, so don’t even try.”

              Ariel was talking as if she was reading from a script. I wondered how many times she had done this speech before. Of the thirty or so people, how many were just like us and had essentially been kidnapped? How many had to be warned about trying to run away or trying to game the system?

              “For water, you each get a gallon a day. That’s for all your cooking and washing, too, so use it carefully. The bathrooms are outside. To go, you need to ask me or one of the guys you met tonight…”

“Met” tonight. Like we had all been at a house party.

“...to take you. Garbage goes in a bag and gets buried. That’s one of the girls’ jobs. Any questions?”

We were all surprised she had asked us that. We glanced around at each other, trying to decide what kinds of questions would be acceptable. Questions like “Why” and “How dare you” would obviously not be a good idea.

“What are the other jobs for girls?” Beth asked.

I looked over at her, shocked she had been the first one to speak to Ariel. If she was scared, she hid it exceptionally well.

“Cleaning, first aid, garbage, any cooking that needs to be done, and laundry.”

“How is the laundry done?” Tyrsa asked.

“There’s a laundromat that still works,” Ariel explained. “We still have to use coins, which is why we only wash everything when we have to. Any other questions?”

Lawrence automatically raised his hand, but fearing that it might appear mocking, hastily lowered it and just spoke.

“Can...can I ask how long you guys have been here?”

Ariel seemed to be mulling over whether or not to reveal that information. She frowned at Lawrence, trying to assess his motivation. She must have decided answering wouldn’t do any harm, because she responded after a few seconds.

“Three weeks,” she replied. “At least that we’ve been in the warehouse. Before that, we were in a dorm, but then decided we needed more people.”

Three weeks. In just three weeks, a new kind of society had been created to replace the old one. So there was never really such a thing as “true” anarchy. There would always be leaders and followers, or at least people not well-equipped enough to fight against the leaders, so they had to follow or die. I wondered if Matt’s crew, including Ariel, had been responsible for the more organized riots at Ivy Tech and around town. It would make sense. They seemed like those kinds of people. The young woman from before - Mary - returned with a box of food and water. Ariel said a few more things about how the warehouse worked, like what time the girls were supposed to wake up, that sort of thing. Before she left, she told Rick, Lawrence, and I what our jobs would be.

“Right now, you’re the bait,” she said bluntly. “When it’s dark, most of the boys go out to find supplies. That can mean breaking into houses. As the bait, you guys go first, so if the homeowner is waiting, they attack you first. This distracts them, and then the other guys jump in. Basically, it’s what you probably experienced tonight.”

“Yes, very clever,” Rick muttered.

If Ariel heard him, she chose to not respond.

“So that’s it. See you in the morning.”

She began to walk off briskly.

“Wait!” Tyrsa cried. “I think the boys are really hurt. Can we get some Aspirin or something to clean them up?”

Ariel turned and looked at us for what felt like the first time. Before, her eyes had been distant, so even while she talked to us, it was like she was talking to a video camera. She scanned our faces, examining the wounds, before nodding.

“Sure,” she said. “Someone will come around.”

Alone again, we began to take a closer look at our new “home.” Many were wrapped up in their sleeping bags asleep, but others were sitting up in small groups and talking. Everyone looked either our age, younger, or a little older. I wondered what happened to the people who were looted and were “too old” for Matt and his crew. Did they kill them? Leave them alone? I didn’t want to linger on those thoughts. I looked around for anyone I might recognize in the warehouse, but there was no one among the few groups sitting up. Beth began to rifle through the box to see what we had been given.

“Tuna, turkey, peas, granola bars…” she murmured. “At least they’re giving us nutritious stuff.”

No one responded. It was hard to feel any gratitude towards the people who had ripped us violently from our home and taken all our supplies. Feeling gratitude was the beginning of Stockholm Syndrome. I’d read about it, about how people would torture their prisoners, and then do something “nice” like giving them a glass of water, and the person who was being tortured would be so screwed up in the head they’d start to feel grateful for tiny, tiny things that were really just methods for manipulation. I didn’t really think Beth would get Stockholm Syndrome though; she was just trying to find a silver lining to the black cloud we found ourselves under. Thinking made my head hurt.

Where is that first aid?
I thought anxiously.

As if to add insult to injury, the lights went out. Some small lanterns were turned on, breaking the pitch darkness with blue light, but no one reacted. This must be on the schedule. As my eyes adjusted, I could see the groups that had been sitting up settling down in their sleeping bags. I was afraid to try and sleep. I felt Tyrsa move closer to me and run her fingers through my hair. My heart skipped a beat before I realized she was just getting a closer look at my head wound.

“I’m going to find Ariel,” she said, her tone determined.

“Are you nuts? That’s way too dangerous. I’ll be fine,” I assured her.

“It could get infected!” Tyrsa insisted.

She was right. I struggled inwardly with the fear of approaching our captors and the fear of infection. Thankfully, I wasn’t forced to choose. Someone with a flashlight came our way and a female voice spoke.

“Are you the guys who need first aid?”

“Yeah,” Rick said, clambering to his feet. “We need help.”

The woman hesitated for a moment, shining the light around to see our faces.

“This way,” she said.

We followed her as closely as we could, gingerly stepping over sleeping bags and boxes. I looked around for Matt or any of the other men, but I couldn’t see them in the dark. As far as I knew, the twins were still stationed by the door, guns drawn.

We were led into a small storage room with a few chairs. The shelves were bare except for a single first aid kit, a bottle of water, and some paper cups. That made sense; we wouldn’t be led to the main supply room. That would make it more probable for us to try to escape, supplies in tow. The woman turned on a larger lantern set it on the ground, filling the room with a soft glow. We could see each other’s faces more clearly now, and when I turned to the woman, I immediately recognized her. It was Jenny.