Scorched (5 page)

And then, I saw a pair of feet, without toes and shapeless, one large callous over skin. I looked up and saw wrinkled and weathered blue skin, and then a black stomach and chest.

A light brighter than any I ever saw shined in my eyes and I couldn’t see. The light quickly disappeared and I regained my vision.

Standing before me was a boy roughly my age. He examined my stomach and my body. He knelt down beside me, hand on my chest and said, “Are you olbreay?”

I used every ounce of energy I had left and uttered, “My name is Spec.”

The boy looked at me, confusion smattered across his face and said, “I’m golereana hepetta. Jureld searlen still. You’re golereanna be fine.”

He pressed his hand against my wound. The blood slowed and he smiled and said, “I’m Joey.”

SECTION TWO

Extinguished:

“The small wad of burning paper drew down to a wisp of flame and then died out leaving a faint pattern for just a moment in the incandescence like the shape of a flower, a molten rose. Then all was dark again.”

-- Cormac McCarthy,
The Road

CHAPTER NINE

Joey:

He was bleeding bad. There was a gash on his abdomen the size of my watch. “You’re going to be okay -- I just need to stop the bleeding.”

He shook his head and grabbed my hand. “It’s ner youlseuh. I’m groniling deole.”

I shined my flashlight toward where I left my friends, “Help! Hurry!” My hands were stained red, and I could feel his breathing slow down. That’s when I noticed the two foreign shadows appear.

In front of me stood two people I had never seen before, naked and unflinching. They stared at me as if I were a ghost, no doubt the companions of the wounded boy lying in front of me.

“Holy shit!” James yelled as he appeared, shining the flashlight on the two strangers. “Where’d they come from?”

Bryan held his tiny pocket knife firmly in hand, ready to strike. “They’re NaNas.”

“There aint no more NaNas alive.” James shone the light on the girl’s mouth. “Show us your teeth.”

“He’s bleeding out -- we gotta get him to Shaw.” I pressed my hands down harder on his large wound.

“We can’t help him til we know he’s not a NaNa,” James said, flashlight still pointed at their faces.

Bryan knelt down and opened the boy’s mouth. “Smells like a NaNa --”

“Like you ever smelled one before!” I took my shirt off and tied it against the boy’s stomach. “Help me carry him.”

Bryan continued to threaten the strangers with his knife while James walked over and examined the body. “I’ll get his arms. I don’t want his thing flapping in my face.”

James and I hoisted the boy up, but the blood started to gush out faster. I turned to Bryan who was brandishing a knife gleefully. “Come hold his wound.”

“The hell I am. I don’t want no blood on my hands.”

“His blood’s gonna be on your hands if you don’t help!”

“Shit…” Bryan pointed his knife at the girl. “You. Yeah, you. Come here.” The girl stood frozen, staring at him blankly. “They sure are dumb.”

“Put your knife away.”

“Man, I never get to use the knife!” Bryan put the knife away and walked toward the girl, hands in the air. “I’m not gonna hurt you.” He grabbed her hand but she quickly pulled back. “You want your buddy to die?” He waved her forward. She tentatively followed him to the boy in our hands.

“Can you put your hand on your friend’s wound?” I asked, unsure if she understood what I was saying.

She glanced over at the boy. “What’s…wound?”

“They aren’t as dumb as they look.” James motioned Bryan over. “Take his arms.” Bryan reluctantly grabbed the boy’s arms while James gently held the girl’s hand and pressed it down on the wound. He looked over at the other boy. “Come here.”

The boy did not move, either unable to comprehend what James was saying or unwilling to cooperate. James waved him over but he wouldn’t budge.

“Take my knife. He’ll come if you got it shoved up against his throat,” Bryan laughed as the words trickled off his tongue.

James took a step closer. Put his hand to his chest. “James. James.” He pointed to the stranger. He furled his eyebrows and tapped his chest, “Cotta.” He pointed to the girl and said, “Kaolin.” To the wounded boy: “Spec.”

I looked over toward the girl. “Kaolin?” She nodded slowly. “Hold tighter. Harder.” She was confused.

James walked over and pressed his hand on top of hers and pushed down. Their eyes met and James looked uneasy. He removed his hand and motioned Cotta over. “We gotta go before he bleeds out.

***

It was chaos. Hundreds of people rushed through the City Center when they spotted us carrying the bleeding boy.

“Joseph!” My father emerged from the crowd, his large sword firmly in hand. Beside my father, his Chief of Staff, Riley rushed forward, sword pointed at Cotta.

“They don’t look like NaNas, sir.” Riley carefully opened Cotta’s mouth with the tip of his sword. “Too old to not be initiated.”

Shaw appeared with a few of his assistants. “Prep the OR.” They took the bleeding boy and rushed him toward the hospital. I looked down at my clothes and they were painted red.

My father lowered his sword and approached me. Placed his thumb on my cheek and wiped off some of the blood. “Where’d you find them?”

“By the watermill.”

He examined the situation as he so often does. He had been mayor of our city since before I was born. He had saved us from the waves of NaNa attacks and even demolished their village.

“Get our guests some clothes. Food and water. Lock them up until we know more.” A couple of the City Guards chained a subdued Cotta and Kaolin. They didn’t struggle, they just looked all around, amazed at anything and everything.

My father eyed me. “You okay?” I nodded. “Get washed up.”

I walked through the crowd and passed some of my classmates. “What’d they look like, Joey!?” “Were their teeth as sharp as all the stories!?” “Did they attack you!?”

I answered the questions as best as I could, but my mind was elsewhere. I couldn’t stop thinking about the bloodied boy who may or may not be alive. If he lived, it’s because I just happened to find him at the right moment. If he died, it’s because I didn’t act fast enough. His life was decided by my hands.

I walked passed the statue of Jacobson and Fiddler’s Fountain. I tripped over a loose brick by Cantor’s Steps. I’ll tell my father about it when he gets back and it’ll be fixed within the hour.

I got home and walked upstairs to my shower. I turned the faucet on and warm water dribbled down my face, but the water was only nice for ten minutes before it got cold. I was forced to get out of the shower prematurely and dry off.

I stood in my room, bored. I waited for the sound of the door opening so that my father could tell me whether the stranger would live or not. I lay on my bed and stared up at the ceiling. It was littered with cracks. I had tried to count them on numerous occasions, but I always wound up falling asleep before I could finish. And then there’s always the heated debate every dozen cracks or so whether a crack is one or two and then I have to get up and get a closer look to see if there’s a gap.

I yawned. It had been a long and arduous day. Bryan and James and I had to check on the watermill clog. And then there was the whole strangers thing. I’m tired. Let’s see. One crack. Two cracks. Three. Four. Five…

CHAPTER TEN

Awakening:

I awoke to the sound of chatter below. I jumped to my feet and tiptoed to my door. Opened it a creak and listened in on my father talking to Riley.

“They aren’t NaNas,” said my father’s young and powerful advisor.

“Where are the rest?” My father stared at his inferior, waiting for a response. “Are there any more?”

“We don’t know. They speak a little English, but it’s difficult to communicate. They don’t appear to be a threat.”

My father picked up a soggy grape, disappointed at its less than perfect nature and tossed it in the trash. “That’s what the NaNas said about us.” He walked over to a skull encased in glass, teeth like daggers. Holds it up high. “And now look at them.”

“The NaNas were dangerous brutes. These children are savages but their savagery is predicated on naivety and not viciousness.”

“And where are they now?”

“The wounded boy is recovering in the ICU. The other two are locked up at the station. Should we kill them?”

My father took a seat at his desk. Sat quietly for a moment before, “We’re a civilized people. We don’t kill those who pose no threat. We’ll hold a charity event. An auction for each of our guests with all proceeds going toward the schools.”

Riley nodded. “I’ll let everybody know.”

“You go with him, Joseph. Since the topic so intrigues you.” He looked up and easily spotted me hiding behind the banister.

***

The City Center was the most crowded I had ever seen it. Nearly all 2,300ish people in town had shown up for the charity auction.

My father took center stage on the podium and quieted the raucous crowd. “My fellow Newburyians, thank you for coming out to today’s charity auction. As you have heard by now, my son Joseph discovered three strangers last week. They are no threat to us and should be treated as guests until they can be properly integrated into our society. We will be auctioning off each of the three to the highest bidder on the grounds that such person will take it upon him or herself to sivilize the savage. And let me remind you that all the money taken in today will go toward refurbishing our schools.”

The crowd cheered and my father waited a moment, absorbing the applause like the plants take in the UV light. “And without further adieu, our first savage is roughly 14 years of age and goes by the name
Cotta
. Please, welcome him to the stage.”

The crowd cheered again as the younger of the boys was escorted to the stage, chains around his wrists and ankles. “He would certainly be a great addition to any household. A strong and sturdy boy, no doubt can help around the house. Why don’t we start the bidding off at 100.”

“100!” An elderly woman (I forget her name) shouted gleefully, smiling at the prospect of welcoming a new member to her family.

“200!” shouted Thomas, a middle-aged botanist living alone in the East District.

“300!” squealed a little girl no older than 5, standing between her father and mother who happily encouraged their daughter. “So I can have a new big brother!”

The crowd awed. “I don’t think we need to go any further than that. Sold for 300 to the Wilkins. Come on up, Annie, and claim your new brother!”

The girl looked up at her parents who simply nodded. She quickly ran through the crowd and up the steps onto the stage and hesitantly stared up at the stranger before her who hesitantly stared back. “I’m Annie, your new sister.”

Cotta looked down and said, “Herble, wherel is brughets?”

She slowly moved her hand and touched the boy’s arm, then, leapt forward and gave him a hug. The boy didn’t reciprocate. He just looked down, confusion smattered across his face.

“First thing’s first,” the girl said as she grabbed his chains and dragged him offstage, “we gotta get you something nicer to wear.”

My father quieted the crowd once more. “Ladies and gentleman, our next savage is no older than 13 years of age. Please welcome to the stage,
Kaolin
!”

The crowd erupted as the teenage girl was escorted onto the stage. “Once again we’ll start the bidding at 100.”

“100!” shouted the elderly woman.

“200!” exclaimed Benson, the police commissioner’s son.

“300!” The elderly woman was not giving up so easily.

“500!” A middle-aged woman stood alone, staring longingly at the little girl. I had never seen the woman before, but there were many people in the city I had never seen.

“Do I hear 600? No? 500 to Meredith Washburn! Come on up and claim your Kaolin.”

The woman took her time through the crowd and up the steps. She stared at the girl and the girl stared back. Placed her hand in front of her. The girl examined the hand. “Come with me Kaolin.” She put her hand on the girls back and led her off the stage.

“And now, ladies and gentleman, the final part of our charity auction, he’s the oldest of the three, roughly 15 years of age. He’s recovering from an abdominal wound but has been medically cleared for the auction. Please welcome to the stage…
Spec
!”

And then, my wounded friend made his way to the stage. He looked around at the crowd, in total awe. He looked like a kid in a weddle shop.

My father put his arm around my stranger. “For continuity sake, we’ll start off at 100.”

“1000!”

The crowd went quiet as all eyes landed on me. I looked over and noticed my hand had skyrocketed to the ceiling and then I realized that it was I who had shouted the price.

My father looked at me like he had never looked at me before. I saw pride and anger and curiosity.

And then, after what seemed like a lifetime of that stare, he spoke up, “You heard the man, 1000 to my son, Joseph! Come on up and claim your prize.”

I tentatively moved through the crowd and onto the stage and looked at the boy. He was older than I but much skinnier.

I put out my hand, “Hi.”

He looked down at my hand and put his hand out as well and said, “Hi.”

I moved my hand forward and clasped his. Shook up and down. “It’s nice to meet you.”

The crowd cheered, and my father closed the ceremony. “Thanks to you all for showing up. We raised a lot of money for the schools. We’re three citizens more and I’m down 1000 dollars.” The crowd laughed and clapped. “Take care everybody.”

My father walked off the stage, gave me a look and said, “Sivilize him quick. Then you can work off the 1000 you owe me.” He looked down at Spec, examining his property and then left without saying another word.

I looked over at the boy and waved him over. “Come on, let me show you around.”

I led him away from the City Center and took a seat on a nearby bench and motioned for him to do the same. He quickly caught on and took a seat. “We’ll just wait here until the crowd disperses.”

He watched me closely. I knew he didn’t know the words I was saying, but I felt he understand what I meant. “You were born a savage, but I don’t know if that means you’ll always be one. I think, first I have to teach you our language, but I don’t know how to do that.”

“I koundla understand, Joey.” He watched me closely, waiting for my response.

“Are the other two your siblings? Cotta and Kaolin?”

“Cotta and Kaolin are furalzos.”

“What is furalzo?”

“Furalzo.” He places his hand on my chest. His fingers were rough and calloused and strong. “Joey is Spec’s furalzo.” Placed his hand against his chest. “Spec is Joey’s furalzo.”

I nodded my head. “Furalzo is friend. Friend is furalzo.”

“Friend,” he said, smiling.

“Furalzo,” I said back. “I think I’ll just talk and show you things and when you have something to say, you’ll just say it.”

He watched me closely and nodded his head.

***

I showed the boy the entire city, from the schools to the mall, to the police station. He was amazed with everything and would touch whatever I showed him. He was fascinated with each brick on every building. What interested him the most was our farming sector with our greenhouses and UV lights. He acted as if he had never seen a plant before, let alone a potato.

He looked at me like I was crazy as I took a bite out of a carrot. I handed him one and it took him awhile before he took a bite. He was astonished by its taste or texture or both.

I then took him to the pens and he froze as he saw our pigs and chickens. He placed his hand on the chicken and looked over at me with a big smile.

“We use the river to power our city. The water rushes through the mill and charges the turbine which then gets used to light the city and the plants. The river is our main source of water and the pipes beneath the city allow us to survive.”

I walked over to a nearby hose and turned the faucet. Water squirted out onto the ground. He quickly jumped out and tried to stop the flow. He grabbed at the puddle beneath and attempted to place it back in the hose.

“It’s okay. It’s just water.” I held the hose to his mouth and he took several big gulps. I gathered some of the water and combed my hair. He watched closely and did the same, but his hair was all over the place. “We need to get you a haircut I think.”

I took Spec to the barber shop in the West district since it was the nicest. Not Brightens because they sometimes get lazy with their cuts but Stripes because they always gave 100 percent.

I motioned Spec to the chair. He sat and watched curiously as the scissors cut each strand of hair. He grasped the side of the chair, waiting for some sort of pain but was astonished that he felt nothing.

When the barber was done, Spec stood up and took a look at himself in the mirror. He was truly beautiful. A bit malnourished, but that would change after a few weeks of proper eating.

***

I took Spec home and finally removed his chains. He seemed appreciative but didn’t know how to show it.

He was dirty, and I needed to clean him up. I led him to the shower where I turned on the faucet and then disrobed him. He was completely unabashed with being nude because he had yet to learn humility.

I motioned him into the shower while I squirted some shampoo into my hands and rubbed his scalp. He seemed hypnotized by the running water.

I put my hand on the left handle and turned. “Hotter.” He felt the water get hot. I turned the right handle. “Colder.” The water cooled down. He placed his hand on the left handle and turned up the heat.

I took the bar of soup and lathered up my hands and started washing his skin. I moved my hands down his chest and stomach and cleaned his waist and upper legs. He didn’t seem to mind, but I felt I shouldn’t continue cleaning in that area even though he didn’t care.

“You should finish up.” I put the bar of soap in his hands and watched him closely as he finished showering. When he was done, I put the towel around him and dried his hair. I picked out some of my clothes, and I dressed him.

We headed downstairs where our cook, Lucy, served us our dinner. Spec sat next to me while my eight year old sister, Kat, sat across from us. My father sat at the end of the table, sitting across from an empty spot where my mother would be sitting had she not died giving birth to my sister.

“Let’s eat,” he announced as he always did every night. I put the fork and knife in Spec’s hand and showed him how to cut. He struggled grasping the utensils at first and whenever he had trouble scooping up some of the peas, he would resort to picking them up with his fingers.

After dinner we went up to my room and I went around picking up various items and saying what each was. I had Spec repeat after me and he quickly began learning each item.

He was especially interested in my speakers. I hooked up my iPod and played a song for him. He was in a daze, hand hovering over the outside, trying to gather every last remnant of the vibrations I could only imagine as being some magical and mystical force to him.

“Have you ever heard music before?” He simply smiled at me and waved his hands, asking for more so I played another song. This time, he laughed. It was a mixture of excitement and giddiness. “It’s good, right? She was supposedly one of the best musicians of all time. Her name’s Miley Cyrus. You wanna hear more?” I played him another and again, I saw the excitement in his eyes. We may have spoken different languages, but I could still understand him. It’s interesting how he’s human but kind of not yet we still emote the same way.

“We still need to get you a bed so you’ll be sleeping with me tonight.” I disrobed him and gave him a set of pajamas.

He looked up at me and said, “Why are there different clothes?”

I couldn’t help but smile. It had only been a day but already he was asking coherent questions.

“These are for night.”

“Night?”

I put my hands against my head like a pillow. “For sleeping.” He didn’t seem satisfied by my response but put them on anyway.

He got into bed and instantly fell asleep. I moved up beside him and hugged him like a teddy bear. He didn’t seem to mind.

For a moment, I wondered about the series of events that had unfolded on the day. I thought about Spec and Cotta and Kaolin and fate and destiny. It was Spec’s destiny to wind up with me and the others’ fate to wind up where they wound up. In the midst of each of their journeys, they came across insignificant people, like the elderly lady whose name I can’t remember. If she didn’t exist or died awhile ago, the little girl would have still bought Cotta, just maybe for less money. In the grand scheme of things, that old lady didn’t matter at all, at least not to me and not to Cotta. She could have not existed and the same result would have occurred. There’s so much about life that’s insignificant. I wonder why?