Scorched (8 page)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Slumber:

It was my turn to patrol the borders with James and Bryan. Spec grabbed his axe, but I stopped him and told him to stay at home. He was a bit confused, but he consented.

“Here,” he said, handing me the axe, “in case you come across any NaNas.”

I left him behind and walked through the town, past the shopping district, past the City Center and Agricultural Square. I walked past everything and headed toward the borders to where there was nothing but empty. 

For a moment, I wondered about Spec and who he was before me. I had known him for eight months, but I never asked about his home, I never asked about his story. My father, though emotionally difficult to read, would drink from time to time, either in celebration or woe. And in those moments, I could see the real him, or at least the version I considered to be real.

“Everybody has a story; some are just not worth examining.” That always stuck with me. It was cynical, but it had some truth to it, not because the merit of any person’s life was more worthwhile than others, but because there isn’t enough time to truly consider every person’s life or perspective. I see my life in its entirety, but Spec and others only see the abridged version. My father sees his life in its totality, but I only see what I can see and know what I can know.

I could try to hear Spec’s story. I could attempt to hear about his childhood and his existence, but I’ll always be limited because I’m me and he’s he. I could put myself in his situation and walk in his shoes, but they’d always be my feet. My vision of his being is skewed by my mind. My perspective inevitably inhibits me from truly understanding and relating to others. And the more they differ from me, the less human they seem.

And then there’s me. I can’t truly share my story with anybody because there are always consequences to opening up, my story is never just my story, it always involves others and sharing limits their privacy. I wasn’t free to share me without intruding on others. I wasn’t free to say how I felt or who I was. I had no freedom over my own domain, over my own utterances.

“Freedom of speech is an illusion,” my father would say when he was intoxicated. “The more power you have, the less you can truly say. That’s the irony, Joseph. I’m the most powerful man in the city, but can I say what I want to say? No. I say what they want me to say. But Carl in Sanitation, well, he can say whatever he’d like to say. He could rant about anything because less people listen and there aren’t any consequences. His words have less merit than mine, but he can say what he truly wants to say. I can’t tell all of Newbury what I truly believe. I can’t say anything outrageous because I’d lose my job. But, everybody listens to what I say. Do you see the irony?”

I closed my eyes and my world widened, my everything expanded.

“Where’s your puppet?”

I opened my eyes, and I felt the earth all around, I felt the weight of the world.

“Where’s Spec?” Bryan snapped his fingers in front of my face.

“He isn’t feeling well.”

“Sure sure sure. I’ve been practicing my knife throwing skills all week. James wants us to meet him there. I’m gonna beat you for sure.”

We walked to our hidden spot where James had set up the dummy.

“What do you guys think about Kaolin?” he asked as casually as he could.

Bryan jumped in front of both of us and flung his knife through the air, missing the dummy and hitting the dirt. “James gotta thirst for savagebait. He wants them animal-like.”

James stood on the mark and aimed the knife at the dummy. “She’s nice and pretty.” His knife hit the dummy right in the gut. “I think I’m going to ask her to be my girlfriend.”

I examined Spec’s axe in my hand. Every groove. Every ridge, crafted so diligently. Every detail was exactly how he wanted, and it was amazing.

Bryan hurried back to the mark, running with the knife in hand. “She’s got them tiny titties. I like em big and squishy!” He thrusted multiple times.

“You’ve never seen a boob.”

“Sure have. Tracey showed me after school one day. She got them big ole titties!”

Bryan flung the knife. Once again, it missed the target and hit nothing but dirt.

“What do you think, Joey?”

I put the axe on the ground and watched it sit still, alone. “She’s okay.”

“Well I think she’s nice.” James took a step on the mark, then looked back at me. “You haven’t even gone yet.” He moved out of the way and let me go.

I held the tip of the knife firmly in my hand. It was sharper than Spec’s axe, but it wasn’t made with the same love and care and affection that gets imprinted on a work of art. I could feel it. I could feel the coldness in my hand. His axe was used for survival. The knife was to take down a rival.

I aimed at the target and I thought about Spec and Cotta and Kaolin. I thought about myself and how unfair it was I didn’t feel the same joy as Bryan and James, that I couldn’t partake in talk about breasts and girls like they could.

I took a deep breath and concentrated on the target and for a moment, I felt this intense clarity. I felt the world’s colors melt into one. I felt the rightness and the wrongness swap meanings. And then, all that mattered in this precise moment in this precise location was that I would hit the target in front of me, that I would pierce its fake skin and hit its fake heart. And so, I cocked my arm back and I heaved the metal forward.

The knife struck the dummy’s chest with unbelievable force, pushing it backwards and propelling a puff of dust into the air.

Bryan and James screamed in jubilation. Bryan yelped in disbelief, “Did you see that!? That was amazing!”

James shook me and lifted me into the air and I could almost touch the ceiling. Almost.

“Now I gotta make a new dummy,” James gleefully stated while slapping my hand.

“I’m gonna do that next!” Bryan aimed his knife and practiced his form while I walked over to the dummy.

I looked down at the lifeless entity beneath me, hole in its chest, dirt dribbling out. If the dummy could talk, would he be happy? Would he be glad his purpose in life had been fulfilled? Would he be content knowing he did his job? Could something ever be happy at its own demise, even if its end was a necessity?

Grains of dirt dribbled onto the dummy’s head, and then, I felt grains of dirt dribble onto mine.

I looked up at the ceiling and that’s when I saw her.

She looked down at me, and for a moment, our eyes connected and we connected in a way that is impossible to explain.

The girl was clinging to the ceiling. She opened her mouth and snarled and I could see the daggers jutting from her mouth, scar across her cheek. And then --

She pushed off from the ceiling and landed on top of me. Her razor sharp claws cut into my chest and I instantly coughed up blood.

I could hear James’ and Bryan’s screams. I looked over at my friends as they ran away, leaving me behind with the girl.

She raised her claw and ripped into my stomach, and I could no longer feel the world; I could no longer feel anything.

Her mouth widened. Her teeth shining.

And then, my world went dark --

SECTION THREE

Ignited:

“Sure, everything is ending,” Jules said, “but not yet.”

-- Jennifer Egan,
A Visit from the Goon Squad

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Alive:

It had been eight months since I last awoke next to my father in our cubby, but it felt like a lifetime ago. For so long, I had hoped for the new, but now I find myself dreaming of the old. Painting pictures with my father, excavating with Cotta, and even watching Grub’s magic show in the Grotto.

There was so much I wanted to share with him. I wanted to tell him about our harrowing escape from the hive and my near death and the large civilization that took me in. Sometimes I would lie awake and stare through the ceiling, listening to Joey as he struggled breathing in his sleep, gasping for breath. I would imagine busting through the barrier and propelling myself upward, to the past that is my future. I would walk the burnt rubble and find my father waiting for me, and he would ask what took me so long. We would walk beside enormous rivers, and I would tell him all about the wonders I had witnessed. We would discuss music, the sweet sounds and harmonies we could never imagine. We would discuss the animals and the plants in which they ate. We would discuss couples who only bred with each other and clothes and flowers and Kaolin. We would discuss everything.

I had always hoped for something different, and now that I obtained it, I still wanted more. I wasn’t content, and I was beginning to wonder if I could ever have my desires quenched. I found myself immersed in everything new, but the more I learned, the more I discovered I hadn’t known and the more I wondered what else there was to know.

In the hive, life was simple. I’d wake up and collect and survive. I had so much time that it was inevitable for me to think and yearn. Now, in Newbury, other people collected, other people worked, and my job was simply to learn. And so, I learned. I absorbed it all in and the knowledge changed my thoughts but it didn’t warp my imagination. My inventions had merely become more elaborate. Instead of imagining large insects, I dreamt of large chickens and pigs. Plants that went higher than the eye could see. Music that reverberated deep within my body and shook the very foundation that is me. Sweet scents that lifted me off of my feet and made me immune to my deficiencies. I realized anything was possible because everything was possible.

Today was supposed to be our day to patrol the borders, but Joey left me at home. It was one of the few times he let me be alone, and I couldn’t help but relish the time where I did not have to worry about another living person. I was alone for most of the time back in the hive. Sure, I’d walk to the gathering spot with Cotta, but we always worked at different plots of land. It was only now that I truly understood real isolation. Only after finding myself surrounded by so many people and being beside Joey for most of the day did I understand this feeling of lonely and cherish the moments of being alone.

Cotta, Kaolin and I had all taken to Newbury in a different manner. Cotta seemed to enjoy the city the most, incorporating far better than I. Kaolin liked it the least and rejected most of their customs. I was somewhere in between. I did not like all that was presented before me, but it would be foolish to say it was all bad. There were some things I liked more than home and some things I did not. I liked the options but disliked the lack of choice. I could supposedly do whatever I wanted to do in Newbury, but I had to go to school with Joey -- that was mandatory. I couldn’t just be mayor like Joey’s father. I was told the option was there, but I didn’t have that choice. That choice was limited to a few. We were free to be who we wanted, to wear what we chose, but I had to wear something. I could not go as I did before, naked and untarnished. I had the option of clothes but not the choice to go without.

We were all being held prisoner by each other. If I were naked in front of Joey, he wouldn’t mind. But if I went outside nude, he would be upset. Why is this? Why are there rules that exist in front of the many but not the few? An individual’s rationality is somehow altered when others are involved.

And then there is right and wrong which somehow correlates with truth and lies. The right was true and the wrong was a lie. There was no in between, at least from what I’ve gathered, but I don’t understand why some things are considered good and others are bad. I don’t understand how Joey can blindly say one thing is right and dismiss the alternative as being wrong. Then again, if I were born in Newbury, would I believe what he believes? Would I be me, or would I be some version of him? How much of me is truly mine? Am I just a product of my father and the hive or am I something more?

As I sat in the room alone, relishing the opportunity not to be seen, a noise I had never heard chimed throughout the city, over and over and over. I looked out the window and I saw people rushing out toward the City Center. My time of solitude had ended.

I hurried down the stairs where the Mayor promptly appeared. He grabbed his sword and rushed out as if the house were collapsing. I followed behind the Mayor, through the panicked crowd. Riley stood on the stage with James and Bryan who were covered in tears. 

The mayor hurried over to Riley who took a sympathetic step toward his boss and whispered something into his ear. Riley took a step back, giving the Mayor some space. He held the sword firmly and shut his eyes as the entire city watched him closely. And after a few moments, Joey’s father opened his eyes and looked out at the city:

“The NaNas have returned and they have taken my son’s life.” Everything went eerily silent. “We will secure the borders at all times. Schools will be suspended indefinitely and all citizens 8 and up will be enrolled in daily military training.”

The mayor paused for a moment and examined all of the panicked faces in the crowd. “We don’t die. We don’t die! We fight. Fight like we did so many years ago. Fight for our children. For our parents. For our brothers and sisters. For our people. And we will win like we have every time before! Newbury is a beacon of light and they are the darkness. We are the shining city that survived the apocalypse and nobody is going to take that from us.” He lifted his sword into the air, then slammed it into the ground beneath, turned and walked away.

The crowd slowly dispersed, but I lingered behind and stared at the weapon lodged in the ground. I thought about Joey and his last moments and how he must have felt. I wondered if he somehow knew about his imminent doom and had intentionally left me behind. I wonder if I had gone, would Joey be wiping up tears with James and Bryan while I became extinguished?

I walked back to Joey’s house, back to Joey’s room and stood idle amidst his memories. He had left so much behind but so little at the same time. I wonder about his friends and his family and how much they knew the real Joey. I wonder how much I knew the real Joey. Did I know him better than everyone else? Was he truly dead if I survived and carried on his story?

And then, before I knew it, it was supper time. I walked downstairs not knowing what to expect but found an ordinary setting without one key component. The Mayor was at the head of the table, Kat at her spot, but across from her was Joey’s empty chair.

The Mayor looked over at me. “I suppose we’ll begin with a prayer.” I didn’t know what that was, but I watched Kat close her eyes and bow her head so I did the same. “Bless us, oh God, for the food we are about to eat. Thank you for this house and this life and protecting Joey in that thereafter. Amen.” After a moment of silence, I opened my eyes and realized the other two had started eating.

I didn’t know much about God, but Joey had taught me a little about him sometime ago:

“There’s only one God and he created everything,” Joey said nonchalantly while we were playing basketball (a game played by bouncing a ball and shooting into a hoop).

“Did he create this ball?” I asked.

“Well, he created Man who created the ball, so yeah.”

“He created me and you?”

“Of course.”

“Who created him?”

“Nobody. He’s always been around. Or he created himself. In the olden days, there were a lot of different names for him and different religions. But in Newbury, we just all refer to him as God.”

“What about those who don’t believe in him?”

“Nobody doesn’t believe in him.”

“I don’t,” I said abruptly.

“Well, you just don’t know any better. Like when you first saw a carrot you thought it wouldn’t taste good, but you ate it and you liked it. And now you have it every day.”

“That’s true.”

“Yeah, and before you came here, you never heard music. You didn’t know it existed, but you love it now.”

“I do…”

“So, I mean, now you know about God. He looks out for us all. Why wouldn’t you want to believe that?”

“What about when the solar flare hit?”

“Sometimes he does things for reasons we don’t understand. But if he stopped the flare, we wouldn’t have ever met, right? So he brought us together --”

I snapped back to reality and looked over at the empty seat beside me. If God really existed, did Joey need to die in order for me to continue my journey? Or was he just something people believed in that may not exist, like giant insects or my dream of walking on the surface?

I finished my meal, but waited for the others to be done before I left the table. I looked over at the Mayor who was imbibing copious amounts of alcohol.

“You two are excused.”

Kat got up and ran to her room. I looked over at the Mayor and wondered if I should talk to him. I wondered if I had any words he had not already heard. I knew I didn’t, so I went back to Joey’s room.

I thought a lot about Joey and what he had done for me. I left the hive because I couldn’t grow old in a place I couldn’t grow. Not only were the walls narrow, but so too were the expectations of a substantial future. In Newbury, the ceiling was so high I could barely see it. Yet, I knew it was there. I knew the ceiling was keeping me down just as it did in the hive. The only difference is in Newbury, there was the illusion that there was no ceiling. That anybody could become mayor.

Joey had saved me in more ways than one. He carried me from a life of ignorance into one of understanding. Before, I imagined a world beyond my world but now, I knew there were an infinite amount of worlds. If the hive and Newbury existed, anything could exist. Eight months ago, I was lost and hopeful but now, I was determined more than ever to see the above. In the hive, I only knew what I was told by my ancestors and they only knew what they were told by their ancestors. Now I know a different set of truths told by a different set of ancestors. Who’s to say the surface is forever scorched? Who’s to say there’s an irreparable scar imprinted above the dirt and beneath the dust?

What I know is only what I’m told and what I’m told is only what they know. Trusting that my knowledge is
the
knowledge because others said it so, is trusting that they know what is right and what is wrong. It’s trusting that they know what is good and what is bad. But which knowledge is accurate? Newbury’s ancestors? My ancestors? Or neither?

***

I woke up in the middle of the night and expected to hear Joey’s troubled nocturnal breathing. It took me a few moments before I realized he was gone and would be gone forever.

I was thirsty so I went downstairs to get some water when I found the Mayor sitting with a glass in his hands, staring through the wall in front of him.

“If you can’t feel the world around you, it doesn’t exist. Did you know that, Spec?” I shook my head and stood silently. “We have five senses, you know? Sight, smell, taste, hearing and touch. Take away one’s eyes, one can no longer see the world. Take away one’s nose, no more smelling. No tongue, no taste. No ears, no hearing. No heart, no feeling, no touch. We only comprehend our world through our senses. So if you close your eyes, curl up into a ball and shut out the world, it doesn’t exist. You don’t exist. Because, you’re a part of this world now, aren’t you?”

I nodded.

He took a sip of his drink. “You’re insignificant, Spec. Did you know that? I don’t say that to be cruel. I’m insignificant too. We’re all…insignificant. I’m going to teach you something I should’ve taught Joseph. The world is not black and white. It’s shades of gray and purple and blue and red. But if you treat it as such, buildings crumble. People want there to be only two colors. They want only black and white. They don’t want to decide what type of gray they are looking at because if they had to decide, they might choose differently than their neighbors and their friends and family. You know what happens then? That person is different. That person is an outcast. Two choices. Black and white. Make things clear. People don’t get hurt. They need right and wrong. You can’t have a decent society without right and wrong. And when people start to question if black is black or white is white…civilizations topple.”

Another sip.

“Before the end of the surface, people said, ‘We don’t have to prepare for an apocalyptic disaster. It’s fiction.’ They didn’t believe in a truth. They didn’t believe black was black and white was white. And those people burned.”

Another sip.

“There are two types of truth, Spec. The reality in our mind and society’s reality. Take you and me for example. I believe in what I believe. Since I believe it, it’s true. You believe what you believe and hence, it’s true. Then there’s the reality society says is true. That’s the loudest voice. That’s the voice that once said the world was flat and so it was flat. That was fact. Sure, some said it was round, but that was their truth. Would their truth matter if society did not agree? If everybody who declared the world was round was suddenly purged from a society, would that truth still exist?”