Broken Worlds Super Boxset (53 page)

Alex released him, and Warren elbowed Alex’s ribs. “I didn’t forget.” Warren bent down and slowly removed a pin from the side of the wall at ankle height. A thin, translucent wire ran the width of the hallway, then ran into the room, where a pack of C-4 explosive was wired to bring the whole place down on any intruder’s head.

With the pin disabled and the wire removed, both men stepped inside the makeshift basement. The walls were lined with shelves packed with mason jars filled with different varieties of fruits, vegetables, and meats.

“All right. Let’s get it over with before this whole goddamn deathtrap caves in on us,” Warren said.

Warren reached for the clipboard, and through the hundreds of pounds of dirt that lay above them, the distinct din of the community sirens penetrated their ears.

“Inspection,” Alex said.

Warren dropped the clipboard, grabbed the lantern, and hurried through the hallway, scraping against the dirt on either side of him. Alex made sure to grab the key Warren had left hastily on the table and followed the trail of dust that Warren had kicked up behind him. On his way out he bent down, carefully putting the pin back into place. Alex poked his head out of the hole in the garage floor, and Warren almost rolled the plastic film over his face. “Take it easy, Warren, you’ll tear it.”

“Hurry up and move out of the way!”

Alex leapt off the garage floor and into the hallway. Warren finished replacing the fake cover over the top of their hidden pantry and they extinguished the lanterns. Once outside, the sirens grew louder. The entire community was already lined up by the time Warren and Alex joined them. The government vehicles had blockaded the cul-de-sac’s entrance, and the inspector was making his rounds with the aid of the community’s sentries.

“All right, citizens. Blood tests today,” the inspector said.

Alex immediately looked down to Meeko on his right side. He whispered out of the corner of his mouth, “Have you been watching your rations?” Meeko nodded.

Food distributed by the Soil Coalition was only obtained through ration cards. The ration cards allowed the Coalition to measure each citizen’s nutrition level based off of the cards turned in at the meal station. The blood tests were administered randomly to ensure the communities were not exceeding their allotted ration cards.

However, there was fluctuation with the nutrition levels, which allowed Alex and the rest of the community some wiggle room. Alex made sure he gave enough extra food to the community for them to stay alive but still allowed them to stay within the allotted nutritional range.

In addition to the blood samples drawn, each house was inspected by the sentries. Any items in the house that weren’t on the citizens’ personal registry were deemed contraband, and the owners were sent off to the nearest farm camp to work off their crime. Alex had enough food down in the basement to put him to work at a farm camp for the rest of his life.

It took the inspector thirty minutes before he made it to Meeko, Warren, and Alex. “Arm,” the inspector ordered. Meeko extended his right arm with his sleeve already rolled up and his palm facing up. The inspector guided the needle into the small cluster of needle-sized scabs and drained a syringe full of blood from Meeko’s vein. The inspector scanned the small barcode on the side of the syringe and placed it in a briefcase with the other samples. The same procedure was followed for both Alex and Warren.

Once the inspector was done, everyone stayed in place until the test results were completed. The inspector disappeared into the large truck that housed his lab equipment while the watchdogs continued their duty.

The community was dead quiet during the testing. It wasn’t always like that. When the inspections first started, people tried to remain in good spirits, but the Coalition believed that individuals in good spirits were harder to control.

This younger guy in the community, who must have been twenty-five or so, kept cracking jokes during the inspection. Alex figured he was just nervous and was trying to lighten the situation, but their old inspector was a hard-ass. The kind of meathead that got kicked off the high school football team for poor grades and took out his frustrations on the underclassmen. Before Alex could blink, the inspector caved the man’s head in with one blow of his baton. The Soil Coalition set the tone of its reign early, and no one had tested it since.

When the inspector stepped out of the van, he handed one of the sentries a list. The sentry nodded and began his walk down the line, which meant someone was over the limit. The first member that the sentry snatched was Harper. His wife clawed at his arm, trying to pull him back, but the other sentries restrained her.

Then the sentry continued down the line of community members, searching for his next victim. The rhythmic stomping of his boots couldn’t drown out the thumping beat pounding in time with Alex’s pulse. Alex balled his fists tight. If he was on that list, he wasn’t going without a fight. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. Just before the lead sentry made it to Alex, he snatched Meeko’s wrist and pulled him from the line.

“Let me go!” Meeko said, attempting to squirm free from the sentry’s grip.

Alex stepped forward but felt his arm yanked back. He looked down to see Warren’s hand over his wrist. Alex ripped Warren’s hand off him, then lunged for one of the sentries. Alex wrapped his arm around the sentry’s neck and wedged it into the crook of his elbow. He applied pressure, slowly choking off the sentry’s airway. The sentry clawed at Alex’s arm and tried reaching for his weapon, but he was slowly losing consciousness. The other sentries drew their guns. Alex propped the sentry in front of him to protect his own body. “Let the boy go.”

The sentry detaining Meeko pulled a knife from his pocket. He yanked the boy’s head back, exposing his throat, and brought the edge of the blade to Meeko’s soft flesh. “Release the sentry in three seconds or I kill the boy. One.”

Meeko’s whole body shook, and tears streamed down his face.

“Two.”

Alex released the sentry, whose knees hit the ground with a thud. The sentry hacked and spit, breathing in massive gulps of air. Even with the sentry freed, the edge of the blade was still glued to Meeko’s throat.

The sentry’s cold eyes held no emotion about his work. He could slit Meeko’s throat, toss the corpse to the side of the road, and go home and sleep like a baby. That was what they were trained to do. That was what they enjoyed doing.

“Stop!” the inspector called out. “The boy will work off his debt at the farm camp. Now wrap it up! We still have to hit three more communities before we head back.”

“What about him?” the sentry asked, gesturing toward Alex.

“He’s the community’s hunter. He’s not to be harmed.”

The sentry fisted a cluster of Meeko’s black curls then lowered the blade from his throat and tossed him aside. The sentry that Alex had subdued finally regained his composure. His face was reddened as he grabbed his rifle and smacked the butt of the gun into Alex’s forehead.

***

Indistinguishable sounds echoed through Alex’s ears. He groaned. His fingers reached for the point on his forehead where he expected to find his skull split in half, but all he felt was a tender spot just below his hairline. The voices grew louder, until one familiar one came in loud and clear.

“You’re an idiot,” Warren said.

“Then I guess it’s lucky I live with the community’s doctor,” Alex said, cradling his head. Alex’s limbs fumbled, seemingly disconnected from his brain’s ability to control them. He managed to push himself to a sitting position on the edge of the bed, where his feet found the floor. The room seemed to be lopsided, constantly leaning left, then right at a moment’s notice. “Meeko. Where is he?” Aside from Warren, there were a few other members of the community in his room. Harper’s wife, Alice, was one of the first to approach him.

“I don’t know how it happened, Alex. Since we can’t live together, I can’t watch his rations. You know how he gets!” Alice said.

The others started crowding around Alex, spilling their concerns and worries, only adding to the thumping in his head. Their voices blended together in one piercing cry. He felt himself grow hot. His right shoulder burned with heat. The voices reached a crescendo until he finally stood up and screamed.

“ENOUGH!”

The room silenced. Alex gripped his shoulder, trying to extinguish the imaginary flames licking his skin. He was sweating uncontrollably, and his breathing became sporadic. The faces looking at him had changed from fear of the sentries to a fear of him.

“All right, everybody,” Warren said. “Alex needs to rest.”

Warren ushered everyone out of the room. The only noticeable difference in their absence that Alex could tell was the quiet void that replaced them. Once everyone was out, Warren returned to the edge of Alex’s bed.

“Why don’t you ever let me take a look at your shoulder?” Warren asked.

“There’s nothing wrong with it.”

“You say that, but I see you picking at it non-stop when you don’t think anyone’s looking.”

“It’s fine.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah, you said that already.”

“Oh, so it seems like your memory isn’t damaged, which is good to know, because that way you’ll remember that it’s illegal to attack a sentry!” Warren punched Alex’s leg to accentuate the point. “You’re lucky a blow to the head was all they gave you.”

Alex reached for his boots and began to clumsily put them on. “I need to get Meeko. Which farm camp did they take him to?” Alex asked.

“Don’t do this to yourself,” Warren answered.

The blinding, sharp pain in Alex’s head was replaced by his rage. He wrenched Warren’s collar in his fist and gritted his teeth. “Which farm camp?”

“I don’t know specifically which one, but they headed toward Topeka.”

The smell of the musty carpet of the Topeka, Kansas city hall was overwhelming. The A/C vents had leaked all summer, and they couldn’t get the parts to fix them. It wasn’t classified as a priority item in the budget, which was already strapped.

It was here in this small town hall where the founding members of the Soil Coalition gathered to discuss the pressing matters involving the nation and its citizens. The location was chosen as headquarters as a publicity stunt. They wanted the initiative to be in the heart of the country, just as it would be embedded in the hearts of its people.

The council went round and round, and Gordon Reath sat hunched in his seat at the center of the table. He twirled the gavel used to start and end their weekly meetings between his fingers. He was one of the only youthful faces in the group. His jet-black hair stood out among the tufts of white and grey, but unlike the citizens of the communities they represented, there was no lack of round cheeks and overindulgent waistlines. As each councilman spoke, Gordon imagined going down the row, gavel in hand, smacking the heads of each member and sending them back into their holes, like a game of whack-a-mole.

Jared Farnes cleared his throat. “Are we boring you, Mr. Reath?”

The gavel twirled out of Gordon’s hands and thudded against the desk. His head tilted to the side, as his neck seemed to have given up on supporting it. Gordon exuded the morality of a playboy and the patience of a two-year-old.

“We talk about the same problems every week, Mr. Farnes. I doubt this session will offer any new insights.”

Jared Farnes was a rigid piece of steel, and it wasn’t just in his posture. His past work in the industry of weapons development had turned him into one of the wealthiest men in the country, and that wealth wasn’t obtained by being a pushover. His mind created the weapons that had put the United States into a new era of warfare. That same tenacity led him into the President’s circle as his personal liaison to the Soil Coalition. In short, Jared Farnes was the continual pain in Gordon Reath’s ass.

“Mr. Gordon, we’re receiving increased pressure from Canada and Mexico about their grievances of GMO-24 being carried by winds into their farmlands. Not to mention the Chinese demanding that we start a payment plan for the debt we’ve accumulated over the past year from the increased food imports. If we don’t take action, the Canadians and Mexicans could increase their sanctions against us in the UN, and the Chinese could stop their shipments altogether.”

“The Chinese, Canadians, and Mexicans can make all the idle threats they want, but as long as our missiles are aimed in their direction, that’s all they’ll remain: idle.”

“And what about the critical need for seeds? Most of the silos were burned down during the first few months of the crisis. The same silos, mind you, which this Coalition was in charge of protecting. It is my opinion, as well as the opinion of the President, that this Coalition has failed to deliver its intended solution,” Jared said.

“Our intended solution is to keep this country fed. And that’s exactly what we’re doing. Where are we with the production at the camps?”

Dean Grout, a gorilla of a man who was in charge of the sentry program, thumped his heavy forearms on the desk. “Production is down three percent from last quarter, but I’ve ordered all inspectors to shorten the blood test margin from twelve percent to eight, which should increase our recruitment.”

“Recruitment?” Jared asked. “You mean the slave labor you use to keep your plantations running?”

Dean leaned back into his chair and didn’t say another word. He wasn’t in his position for his people skills; he was in it for the lack thereof.

“Any other pressing news before we adjourn?” Gordon asked. “Good. I’ll see everyone in a week.” Gordon was out the door before the rest of the room was out of their seats.