Barren flats surrounded the landing area, apparently stretching on forever. Only the slightest hint of low hills could be seen, far off to the south. This was not a prison world, Morgan realized. It was a death camp.
He squatted, pretending to scan the horizon. He glanced back at the stone block administration building to see if anyone was watching. Seeing no one, he snatched up the nail laying by his foot. It was the last remnant of the supply pallets unloaded for this batch of prisoners. Just before departing this godforsaken planet the Warden explained it was up to the prisoners to share out the food, water, and bedding equitably. No sooner had the last of the guards re-boarded the transport when the free-for-all broke out. As in any mob action, the strongest ruled.
Cade was right to leave. Staying here meant certain death.
#
“What’d you find out there?” Ester asked as he entered the building. His heart sank.
“Nothing.”
She rose from her squatting position, eyeing him suspiciously. “Wen says you have to report anything you find, for the good of the community.”
Wen was a Street Commander for the People’s Resistance. He argued his experience entitled him to assume command. The two thugs with steel pipes backing him up gave his argument a certain amount of weight.
To his credit, following the initial melee, Wen forced a somewhat equitable redistribution of the supplies. But he had no grand plan for long term survival. Evidently the position of Street Commander did not instill intelligence.
Not surprising. Morgan never considered the People’s Resistance a very bright organization. Luckily Wen was not familiar with his editorials to that effect.
Morgan looked at Ester blankly, shrugged, and stepped past her. She gave him a shove from behind. He ignored it, continuing on down the hall toward the room he now called home.
Jael, one of his five roomies, sat in the weak sunlight near the unglazed window, wrapped in a blanket for warmth. His meager worldly goods were piled in the cradle of his legs: a dozen meal packs, two water bottles, an extra pair of shoes, and a brick. The brick was Jael’s weapon, to protect that which was rightfully his.
“It’s warmer outside.” Morgan offered.
Jael blinked and looked at him as if he had just proposed to fly. “Shouldn’t go outside.” Jael countered.
Morgan turned to his own corner of the overcrowded room. He squatted and did a quick inventory of his own pile of goods. He looked up sharply at Jael. “Three of my rations are missing!”
“Shouldn’t go outside,” Jael answered.
“Why you…”
“Didn’t take ‘em!” Jael’s hand went instinctively to his brick. There was a wild and frightened look in his eye. Morgan backed down. He was a writer, not a fighter.
“Who did?”
“Don’t know.”
“You were here.”
“So?”
“You had to see who took my food.”
“It’s not my job to watch your food. You shouldn’t go outside.” His hand relaxed from around the brick.
Morgan began gathering his things. “Well, Jael, we’re all going to have to go outside sooner or latter, to scavenge for food and water.”
Jael shook his head doubtfully. “People steal your things if you go outside.” Then his eyes darted to the door and he shrank back. Morgan looked over his shoulder and saw Wen standing there, a small group of people gathered behind him.
“So, Morgan, what did you find?” Wen asked.
Morgan shot a glance at Ester, who stood out in the hall. She looked away.
“Nothing.”
“Nothing? Are you trying to withhold resources from the community? That’s against the rules. I know you found something. Let’s see what you got. I’ll decide if it’s nothing or not.”
Morgan rose and squared to face Wen. Wen snapped his fingers. Zahid and Meyer stepped in on each side, deflating any thoughts he had on standing up to Wen.
“A nail.”
“What?” It was almost a laugh. “Check him.”
Zahid stepped forward and patted him down. “He’s got something in his pocket.”
“Take it out,” Wen ordered.
Morgan pulled the nail out. Zahid snatched it away, holding it up for all to see, a quizzical smile on his face. “A frigging nail?” Zahid scoffed.
Wen shook his head in amused disgust. Zahid tossed the nail aside and resumed his post next to Wen. Wen studied the scene. All of Morgan’s possessions were gathered into a neat bundle. All that remained to do was to gather the four corners of his blanket and tie the knot. “Going somewhere?”
“Yes.”
Wen waited.
“We can’t survive here Wen. There’s no food. No water.”
“And there is out there?” Wen asked.
“Maybe. But there sure isn’t any here.”
“So Cade was right and I was wrong. Is that what you’re saying?”
“I’m not saying anyone was right or wrong. I just can’t stay here, waiting to die.”
“That’s death!” Wen shouted, pointing out the window. “Open country, no shade by day, no shelter at night. If you think it was cold in here last night, what do you think it will be like out there?”
“We’re going to run out of food and water…”
“Fuck you! We are not. Are you questioning my ability to lead?”
“No, Wen…”
“Liar.” Wen leaned forward and slapped Morgan across the face. “Leave then. We don’t need any whiners.”
Morgan stooped to pick up his bundle. Wen stepped on the blanket.
“Since you’re going to find the land of milk and honey, you won’t be needing these.”
#
They all gathered to jeer as he set out. He looked south, the direction Cade took. Morgan turned north. As much as he disliked Wen, he certainly did not want to meet up with Cade and his gang. He patted the object in his pocket, and set off.
Wen let him keep the nail.
—
©2010 by J. M. Strother, all rights reserved.
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