by Shade Owens
Why had I been such a stupid child?
“You okay?” Sammy asked.
I nodded slowly. “Purple sloths eating mom’s homemade spaghetti.”
She smiled. “Sloths, huh? I’m gonna call you Sloan. You know. Sloth and Brone.”
Shrugging, I said, “Yeah, it’s weird, but I find them adorable.”
“You know we have some here.”
I made my eyes go big. “What do you mean?”
“On the island,” Sammy said. “I’ve seen one. It was chillin’ out in a tree, chewing on a leaf near the Village.”
And then, my face did something it hadn’t done in a long time. It stretched, forming a cheesy grin. My face muscles felt foreign, like they weren’t meant to move that way.
“You know they have zebras, too,” I said.
Sammy punched me in the shoulder and I scowled at her, but she was so excited it was impossible to keep scowling. “Shut the front freakin’ door!”
CHAPTER 9
“What’re you two smiling about?” Dibs asked as Sammy and I made our way around the elephant.
Sammy flicked her wrist in the air as if to say, Don’t worry about it.
Purple sloths, I kept repeating in my mind, and I smiled to myself, envisioning purple sloths. But then, something loud snapped behind me and I swung around, fist held up by my face.
“Relax, kid,” Murk said, staring intently at me. “It was a piece of wood someone dropped.”
She pointed under her foot, where a broken slab of wood lay in the sand.
Wood, I thought.
While I knew everything was fine, my heart couldn’t slow down. An unusual rage built inside me and all I wanted to do was punch Murk in the face.
“Whoa, Sloan, you okay?” Sammy asked, eyes narrowing on me.
Sloan? Who the hell was Sloan? But then I remembered. Why was she asking me if I was okay?
“You’re all red and shit,” she said, wiggling a finger in my face. “Here, too.” Her finger came closer to my chest and I slapped her hand away.
“Don’t fu—don’t touch me,” I said.
Raising two hands on either side of her face, she took a step back. “Hey, no disrespect. It’s all good.”
I wiped my clammy hands against my suede bottoms and inhaled a deep breath. A loud high-pitched frequency rang in my ears, and I fought to maintain my balance.
“What’s wrong with her?” Dibs whispered. “She’s actin’ like my brother used to after the war in North Korea.”
“That’s called PTSD, you dipshit,” Sammy said.
“Well, maybe that’s what she has.”
“You mean like everyone else on this goddamn island?”
Out of the blue, I felt like I was back in the darkness of the jungle with a fire-lit stick in my hands and with Proxy following close behind.
“It doesn’t only affect veterans,” Proxy had said. “A single traumatic event can trigger PTSD. Most women on the island suffer from it. In America, seventy percent of people experience or witness a traumatic event at least once in their life, and out of that seventy percent—”
I’d cut her off and asked her to keep moving because I didn’t want to receive a lecture.
Now, as Dibs and Sammy bickered back and forth about my mental health, all I wanted to do was jab one of them in the eye with my knife. Why wouldn’t they shut the hell up?
“Maybe she has it worse,” Dibs whispered, her voice sounding like glass shards in my ears.
“I don’t have fucking PTSD!” I snapped, and everyone around me went quiet, including Bear, who stared at me from underneath bushy eyebrows, a slab of meat hanging in both hands.
Inhaling a deep breath, I regripped my knife’s greasy handle and made my way around the back of the elephant. “Get back to work.”
Everyone went back to work, but from the other side, sharp whispers were exchanged. Every time I looked up through the elephant’s now hollow body, they turned away. I knew they were likely talking about what a head case I was, but I didn’t care; I didn’t care what anyone thought. I was on edge… So what? Wouldn’t anyone be in my position?
But suddenly, as if turning on a television in the dark, flashes of violent images knocked me sideways, and I tripped into the elephant’s carcass. I tried to catch myself against its skin but instead landed into its bloody rib cage, the warm smell of flesh filling my nostrils.
“Br—Sloan!” Sammy said, reaching in to help me.
I pulled away and my hand slipped on squishy flesh. When I pulled my hand back, tendons and veins wrapped around my fingers. It only pissed me off more, so I swung my upper body as hard as I could and rolled out of the carcass, my clothes now stained in a rusty brown.
Why the hell were we still pulling meat off this thing? How long had it been dead now? Fifteen hours? How was that even safe?
“What’s going on here?” came Alice Number Two’s voice.
Through the elephant’s hollow rib cage and organless body, I saw her standing next to Sammy with two arms crossed over her chest. I should have kept quiet and shut my mouth, but there was so much rage inside me that it had to come out one way or another. Feeling like I’d lost all control of my body—like I was nothing more than a spectator—I stormed around the dead animal and threw my knife by Alice Number Two’s feet.
Her bright, orange-speckled eyes rolled up at me—a mixture of shock, anger, and confusion.
“This isn’t safe anymore,” I said. “There are fucking flies flying around the damn thing. I get that Rainer wants to preserve as much food as possible, but she’s going to end up killing everyone!”
“Calm your little ballerina shoes,” said Alice Number Two. “Do you think Rainer’s an idiot? She knows what she’s doing. She had everyone disinfect their weapons before killing the thing, and she even made sure the intestines weren’t punctured to avoid having bacteria spread fast from the inside. Rainer’s been on this island for over twenty years. I’d be willing to bet your mom was still wiping your ass. If you’d given me a second to talk, you’d know that I came here to tell you to finish up because we’ve reached the time limit. We’re going to start harvesting the bones.”
Feeling stupid, I bent down and tore my knife out of the sand.
Who was I to argue with someone like Rainer? I may have been a Hunter, but I knew nothing about the whole meat curing or storing process. All I did was kill the animal and help tie it up to bring it home—that’s it. Although tempted to apologize for blowing a fuse, I didn’t.
Maybe it was pride, or maybe it was my unwillingness to further embarrass myself.
So instead, I avoided eye contact.
“There are some good bones over here, Sloan,” Sammy said, obviously trying to break the awkward silence. “Why don’t you help me out?”
Alice Number Two stared at me until I turned away. As I did, my feet sliding in blood-soaked dirt, a loud shriek filled the air around me, kicking my adrenaline into overdrive again. With bulging eyes, I followed the sound to find Zsasz dragging a woman in the sand by the wrist.
But it wasn’t any woman—it was an older woman with long curly white hair, loose veiny skin, and arms so thin I feared they might snap in Zsasz’s grip. Behind them, another older woman with gray hair ran with two balled fists swaying over her head.
“Stop it! You stop it!”
Without warning, Zsasz swung around so fast that a disturbing snap echoed, and the woman she was dragging cried out in pain. “My arm!”
Without letting go, Zsasz said, “Oh, shut your trap, you old ved’ma.”
The woman chasing Zsasz finally caught up to her and blasted her fists against her chest. It was like watching a four-year-old try to fight off an abusive father—she didn’t stand a chance. Zsasz stood there, staring down at the frail-looking woman as if amused by her attempt.
“She has osteoporosis!” the woman shouted, fists still banging against Zsasz’s armor.
“Osto—what?” Zsasz said, her head bowed at a 90
-degree angle to look at the woman.
The injured woman in the sand yelped, trying to pull her broken arm out of Zsasz’s tight grip.
“Jazz! Iron Tits!” Pam shouted, lunging forward.
At the same time, Alice Number Two threw her arm out, knocking Pam right in the mouth and into the bloody sand.
“Hey!” Fran said, coming to Pam’s defense.
“You go out there, you’re dead,” said Alice Number Two. “You hear me? I don’t care who those women are to you. Don’t get involved if you want to live.”
Pam rubbed her bloody lip and glared up at Alice Number Two.
“That’s Iron Tits out there.” She pointed at the woman standing up to Zsasz, and it was easy to understand where she’d received the nickname. Although frail-looking, her wrinkled chest was three times the size of her head. Obviously, she’d gotten implants at some point in her life. Pam then pointed at the woman in the sand. “And Jazz. They’re like sisters to us. We already lost Smith. We can’t just—”
“You can, and you will,” said Alice Number Two.
Zsasz pushed Iron Tits away from her, and she tumbled backward and fell into the dirt. Without warning, Zsasz turned around, raised her boot, and smashed it into Jazz’s face. The cracking sound was so loud, so disturbing, that there was no doubt in my mind she was dead.
“Jazz!” Iron Tits shouted. She rose to her knees, and with her fingers wrapped in her hair, screamed as loud as she could. “Why—why would you do that? Oh my God… Why? Why would you—”
“We don’t keep people with disabilities,” Zsasz said plainly. “They’re useless and they eat our food.”
Iron Tits glared up at Zsasz as if prepared to rip out her eyes with her bare hands. “You fucking idiot! She had osteoporosis! She wasn’t disabled, you dumb stump! What kind of idiot—”
In one swift motion, Zsasz drew out a long, metal sword from a holster on her hip and sliced it straight through Iron Tits’s neck. Her head made a thumping sound as it landed on the sand, and slowly, her body fell to the side.
All of a sudden, time seemed to slow.
I glanced sideways to see Fran’s reaction—eyes so bulged they seemed to stick out farther than her cheekbones, and a wide-open mouth with white froth forming at the corners.
Any second, sound would come out.
Quickly, I grabbed her as hard as I could, bringing her down into the dirt with me, and flattened a hand over her mouth to keep her from crying. At the same time, Sammy jumped on top of Pam, forcing both her hands over her face.
We wrestled in the dirt for several minutes, the sound of Pam and Fran’s muffled shouts and feet kicking in the sand echoing around us. As we struggled to keep them quiet, Alice Number Two, Dibs, Scorch, and even Murk stood in front of us, blocking us from Zsasz’s view.
CHAPTER 10
The city continued to vibrate as it did every evening—women were scattered around the food tent chatting and eating as shackles clanged against shackles, and shouts were exchanged as arguments broke out. For the most part, everyone spoke about Jazz and Iron Tits, reenacting the whole event with invisible swords and the word osteoporosis being brutally butchered.
“Ostee-oh-prosees!”
“It’s osteoporosis, you dumb twit!”
“What’s that?”
One woman then slapped the one next to her upside the head. “What’d they teach you in school?”
A woman resembling a porcupine, with hair so erect it could surely be used as a weapon, made a slicing motion in the air and laughed when someone threw a watermelon in the dirt and it rolled a few inches.
What the hell was wrong with them?
At the same time, a dark-sandaled foot came blasting down on the watermelon, pulverizing it into slimy red mush.
“Hey!” shouted the porcupine woman.
“Have some respect,” growled Snow Face.
Although she didn’t look our way, I was certain she’d seen Fran and Pam huddled close together, their eyes pink and puffy and their faces glistening with tears. They refused to eat supper, and instead, stared at the pink sand where Iron Tits’s head had been only minutes ago.
One of the Northers had come to clean up the mess.
“Oh, relax,” said the porcupine woman, neck craned back so she could look Snow Face in the eyes. “We just havin’ a bit o’ fun here. Ain’t that right, ladies?”
The women around her, a group I’d have imagined to find in an insane asylum, nodded their heads like a bunch of bobbleheads.
“This is not fun,” Snow Face said, pointing a finger millimeters away from Porcupine’s right eyeball. “Two women lost their lives today.” Finally, her eyes rolled our way. “Some women are grieving.”
Porcupine glanced toward us, shamefully bowing her head.
“Go!” Snow Face shouted, and the bobblehead crew scattered in opposite directions. When they were out of sight, Snow Face slowly turned toward us, placed a fist over her heart, and tipped her head forward. She didn’t have to speak—it was obvious what she was saying: I’m sorry for your loss.
Taken aback by her gesture, I acknowledged her wordless condolences with a quick nod. Why had she defended Fran and Pam? Why had she taken our side? The other day, she wanted us dead.
“There’s a bit of food left,” came Alice Number Two’s voice.
No one looked up at her but me.
“I have extra,” she continued, raising a wooden bowl filled with fruit. “You sure you guys don’t want any?”
I wanted to thank her for what she’d done—thank her for caring about us. But I was too angry about what had happened for my words to match my thoughts. “What’re you doing here?”
She tilted her head and scratched it.
“Why’re you helping us, Alice? You aren’t one of us. You’re one of them. You aren’t shackled. You get to walk around all fucking day making sure everyone else is working. So why’d you do it? Why’d you help us? What are you hiding? You trying to get some information out of us? Information you can take back to those monsters?”
Why was I lashing out at her? She’d done nothing but try to protect us. Yet, here I was, directing my anger at the only person who could make our lives somewhat tolerable in this hellhole.
She parted her lips to say something but closed her mouth, shook her head, and scoffed. “You know what? I don’t know why I’m helping. If anything, it’s going to get me killed. I don’t need this.” She threw the bowl of fruit into the dirt and a handful of blackberries rolled out.
Sammy bent forward, plucked them off the ground, and threw some into her mouth. “Thanks,” she said, her mouth full. When Alice Number Two stormed off, she threw a blackberry at my face.
I flinched when it hit my lip and slapped the air in front of me, no doubt looking like a total loser.
“Why the hell’d you do that?” Sammy said. “She didn’t do anything wrong.”
Scorch and Dibs didn’t seem too impressed with me, either. Fortunately, Murk wasn’t anywhere around. I was happy about that; the last thing I wanted was her bright, judgmental gaze fixated on me.
“That was stupid,” Scorch said.
I was surprised to hear her talk. Her voice, a bit raspy yet still feminine, suited her small-featured face and thin figure. “Alice is the one who tells us what to do all day. She’s probably gonna have us doing all the crappy work from now on.”
I wanted to apologize—I honestly did. But the words weren’t coming out. Inside, I was fuming. How could so many women, including myself, stand around as lives were being taken? Was it shock? Fear of reprisal? Fear of death? Or, was it intelligence? Was it knowing that we were outnumbered?
“Let’s hope she doesn’t take it out on us,” Sammy said.
I shoved the rest of my coconut into my mouth and walked away. Behind me, the whispering continued, but I didn’t care. Maybe later, I’d care… But right now, all I wanted to do was go to sleep and never wake up.
As I kicked through the dirt, the image
of Iron Tits’s head rolling like a bowling ball flashed in my mind. What kind of higher power, or God, would allow anyone to end up in this miserable place twice in their lifetime? Better yet, what kind of God allowed a monster like Zsasz to exist on this planet?
There was no God.
There was no afterlife.
There was nothing.
I went to sleep that evening without saying a word to anyone. Everything around me felt like a distant, obscure realm. Women whispered, others shouted, but it all sounded the same to me.
Closing my eyes, I inhaled the jungle’s moist, earthy air and prayed to a God I didn’t believe in.
Don’t let me wake up. Don’t let me wake up. Don’t let me wake up.
CHAPTER 11
“Wake up, you worthless swine!”
A woman next to me grunted when a boot came blasting into her rib cage.
“I said, get up!”
I jolted upright to avoid being the next one to get the boot. One by one, everyone started rising from their poorly constructed beds. I stretched sideways, then backward, until my lower back cracked loudly. Had I even slept? My eyelids, flat and heavy, barely moved as I looked around.
At one end, a Norther wearing a weapons belt with a long, metallic sword bent down, untangled the rope, and let it drop into the dirt. At the other end, a third Norther pulled on the rope, making it slither between our ankles until we were all freed.
The usual gang found their way to me—I wasn’t sure why after the way I’d behaved the day before. Somehow, they still seemed to think I was their leader.
“What’re we working on today?” Sammy asked. “Elephant bones?”
I was about to shrug when a loud, explosive voice made my earlobes vibrate.
“There they are!”
Zsasz.
I swallowed hard, feeling a tight knot in the pit of my stomach. Her heavy boots stomped through the jungle’s moist earth as she made her way over to us. Beside her, Rebel followed, her narrowed eyes darting in every direction as if trying to shoot lasers at the prisoners, her arms swaying too far away from her body.
