The QuaranTeens, #1

by Keith B Darrell

  “Me neither.” Esme stared into Blaine’s eyes. She placed her hands on his head and pulled him in, kissing him. She drew back, looking at the shocked boy. “I-I’m sorry.”

  Blaine smiled. “I’m not.” He leaned in and kissed her.

  Only a few teens remained inside the social area. Dax turned to Keiana. “What did you mean it’s your fault Lucian’s dead?”

  “It was a mistake to choose Varian as our leader. You’ve seen the changes he’s instituted. I wanted to find a way to show the others he was becoming a tyrant.”

  Tristan glared at her. “ The Tyrant King. – you manipulated Lucian into writing that song to expose Varian!”

  “I was trying to help everyone. I never meant for any harm to come to Lucian. It never occurred to me he could be targeted.”

  Dax sneered. “I don’t suppose in your hubris it would. You think you can impose your will on everyone around you. You’re no different from Varian except you act behind the shadows, pulling strings like a puppet master.”

  “That’s not fair. I’ll accept my share of the blame but my motives are pure. Maybe Varian didn’t personally kill Lucian. Maybe he sent some else to do it. Or maybe someone did it without his knowledge to ingratiate themself to him, thinking they were doing him a favor by removing a critic. All I know is Varian can’t be allowed to remain in charge.”

  “I’m with you on that,” Tristan said. “I know how Lucian felt about Varian and I feel the same. I’ll do everything I can to take him down.”

  Dax nodded, thinking of the small boy she had covered with the blanket. “We owe it to Lucian.” Coralie grasped her hand and nodded silently.

  The brawny Ian spoke up. “He was a good kid. If I’d been there, I’d have protected him. He was such a little guy – it’s not fair. I never saw him even throw a punch at anyone. He couldn’t have defended himself.” Ian clenched his jaw. “Anything you need me to do, just ask.”

  Corbin, who had been listening, approached them. “If you’re plotting to overthrow a tyrant king, I suggest you keep your voices low.”

  Dax looked up in surprise. “Corbin!”

  “No need to panic. I merely want to join your group.”

  Dax eyed him with suspicion. “Are you going to claim Lucian was a close friend? I told you before, you don’t know the meaning of the word.”

  Corbin shook his head. “I had nothing against Lucian, and I enjoyed his songs. But no, we weren’t friends, close or otherwise. But until now, the bunker has been a place of safety in a dangerous world. The thought that any of us – including myself – is at risk of being killed by a murderer living among us is distressing. If Varian was involved in Lucian’s death in any way, then removing him may be an act of vengeance for some of you but I view it as an act of self-preservation.”

  “Let him join us,” Tristan said. “I was Lucian’s best friend and I say the more the merrier. Let everyone join us if they wish. I’m holding Varian responsible for Lucian’s death and I’m going to make him pay for it.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  They carried him on his blanket – the same blanket Dax had covered him in the night before – and took Lucian from his room to the end of the complex where the furnace awaited. Ian and Dax carried most of the weight; Tristan and Nessa struggled to hold up their ends. Fiona offered to take Nessa’s place in the procession but the younger girl insisted this was something she had to do. She marched stoically, determined not to shed any more tears. She was saying goodbye to a friend she had loved, as well as to her innocence, and she knew she would never see either again.

  Fiona mourned the loss of Nessa’s innocence as much as she did Lucian’s passing. She saw the sadness etched on Tristan’s face and wondered if the happy-go-lucky boy’s eternally cheerful visage would ever return.

  Most of the teenagers stood respectfully along the route as the body passed by; a few gathered by the furnace determined to be beside Lucian to the end. They lowered the blanket, setting the body at the foot of the furnace. Varian bowed his head but said nothing. Esme and Blaine stood a few feet away from Varian, looking down in silence. Keiana knelt beside the body and kissed Lucian’s cold forehead. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. One by one, Lucian’s friends paid their respects, saying a few kind words or talking about an experience they had shared with him. When there was nothing more to be said, Tristan stepped forward.

  “Lucian was my best friend. There are lots of stories I could share, and even more words I could use to describe what a talented and creative person he was. But the best tribute to Lucian is to listen to his own words. Of all the songs he wrote that we all loved, it’s fitting to sing his last one today.” Tristan’s voice broke, and then he started to sing:

  Of thee I sing,

  O tyrant king

  the boy who sought to soar.

  Nessa, Dax, Ian, and Keiana joined in. Soon the others were singing along, as well.

  Promises to keep

  made to all the sheep

  lambs led to the slaughterhouse door.

  The day will come, O tyrant king

  And what a reckoning it shall bring

  Your downfall has begun.

  You lie, you cheat, you steal

  with crooked friends you double-deal

  all the while your people suffer.

  You misuse your power

  causing the people to sour

  abusing their trust; making lives tougher.

  The day will come, O tyrant king

  And what a reckoning it shall bring

  Your downfall has begun.”

  Varian grimaced but remained silent while surrounded by the cascade of young voices. Tristan glowered at him as he sang each verse, never taking his eyes off Varian.

  Ian opened the iron furnace door. They felt the blast of heat wash over their faces as the bright flames illuminated the room, casting an eerie chiaroscuro of dancing shadows against the walls. Ian and Tristan lifted the blanket and tossed it and the body into the furnace. Ian placed his hand on Tristan’s shoulder in a tacit gesture of compassion as they watched the vermillion flames consume the body. Tristan nodded and turned away from the furnace to face the mourners. He wiped away a tear. Nessa rushed to him and embraced him. They found they were able to share their grief without words. It was their second funeral and they were learning how to do death.

  The sun had risen 45 minutes ago and the sky was clear and beautiful. As he spurred his horse on, Covid wondered what was happening back home in their absence. Life at the bunker may not have been as interesting as in the outside world but its predictable routine provided a sense of security that was absent in the wilderness where the unexpected was quickly becoming a way of life. He looked up and saw they were approaching the Outpost. He experienced an odd feeling on seeing someplace other than the bunker – the only place he had known for his entire life – and viewing it with a sense of comforting familiarity. He looked forward to seeing Granny again, and to introducing her to his sister. In the bunker, where everyone had grown up together, there was no need for introductions. Meeting new people – the concept was revolutionary to one who had lived his whole life within a closed environment. He tried to picture how the others would react to visits from “the neighbors”. Would Tristan entertain them with his jokes? Would Lucian write a new song to welcome them? Covid smiled. They had re-entered the world and found the virus gone; beauty in the sunrises, sunsets, and starry nights; and fellow survivors offering their friendship. He felt good about the future that had seemed so uncertain only days before.

  No one came out to greet them as they approached. It was still early morning but Archer and Robin found it odd: someone should have heard the horses and stepped outside. As they drew nearer, they saw bodies sprawled on the ground among the trailers. Archer and Robin jumped from their horses and ran to the bodies. Covid, Corona, Destine, Kai, and Maga dismounted and followed them.

  “What happened?” Robin asked, surveying the carnage.

 
; Archer rolled over one of the bodies. “Gunshot wounds.”

  “Granny!” Robin called out.

  Destine’s eyes scanned the area. “Stay alert,” she said to Covid. “Whoever did this may still be here.” She took Archer and Robin’s bows from their horses and handed one, along with a quiver of arrows, to Covid. They each notched an arrow and spread out among the trailers.

  “Granny!” Robin shouted again. “Where are you? You can come out; it’s us.” She started toward their trailer.

  “Robin!” Archer exclaimed. “Over here.” He knelt beside Granny’s body.

  Robin rushed to his side. “Has she been shot?”

  “I don’t think so. She ain’t bleeding but she ain’t moving, neither.” He nudged her gently attempting to rouse her. “She’s cold, Robin. And stiff.”

  The medical books Destine had read described the stiffening of joints and muscles after death as rigor mortis. It had seemed merely an abstract concept, like so many others, when she had learned about it. Now it served as confirmation of the fact it pained her to convey. “She’s dead. I’m sorry.”

  “Dead?” Robin repeated, as she joined her brother kneeling beside Granny’s body. “Granny,” she spoke to the corpse, vainly hoping her voice would reanimate it. Tears fell from her eyes as she hugged Granny’s body. Archer wrapped his arms around his sister, crying with her. The others looked on in sorrow, not knowing what to say until finally realizing there were no words of comfort that could truly provide solace for such a loss.

  Covid returned from searching the trailers. “There’s no one else here.”

  Corona walked over to the grieving siblings. “I’m so sorry. Is there anything we can do?”

  Archer looked up at her. He glanced at the scattered bodies. “We’ll need to dig graves for them before the wolves come. I’ll get the shovels.” Corona nodded and motioned for the boys to follow him.

  “From what Covid said, your grandmother must have been an amazing woman,” Corona said.

  Robin nodded. "She raised us and kept us safe. We should have done the same fer her.”

  Corona looked at the bullet-ridden bodies. “If you’d been here, you’d have been shot as well. I don’t think she would have wanted that.”

  Destine joined them. She envied Corona’s innate ability to connect with people emotionally; Destine had found it easier to relate to books than humans. Books, she found, were easier to understand than people. One look and you could judge a book by its cover; but not so much with people. “Who do you think did this? Do the Raiders have enemies?”

  “When resources become scarce, everyone is an enemy,” Robin said. “When the storms come without end; when the heat scorches the earth; when hard times become impossible times, survival makes enemies out of strangers.”

  “Do you think this was the work of the Utopians?” Corona asked. “They have guns.”

  Robin shook her head. “The Outpost’s too far from Utopia. Their vehicles can’t travel this far and the Utopians ain’t got no horses. Granny says—” She paused. “Granny said they think riding horses is beneath their dignity. She ain’t never had a kind word fer ‘em.”

  “Then, who else—?”

  “Could’a been other Raiders. Not from the outposts nearby; we trade with them and they’s friendly fer the most part. But there’s rogue Raiders we ain’t never met before out there. Granny called them the Nomads ‘cause they’s Raiders that travel from place to place lookin’ fer food or supplies. A lot of them have guns. But if it was them, I’m surprised they didn’t take the rest of our horses we got corralled.”

  Destine noticed Maga hanging back a few feet from them. She walked over to her. “You don’t feel comfortable around people, either?”

  Maga glanced at Robin beside her grandmother’s body. “I don’t think a Raider would appreciate a Utopian’s company right now.”

  Destine shrugged. “She knows you didn’t kill her.” She pondered. “It’s interesting.”

  “What?”

  “The boys went to get shovels. Apparently the Raiders bury their dead. I’ve read that was common before the plague. We burn our dead. It's a practice written into our code as a precaution against the spread of the virus. Every culture seems to have developed its own method of disposing of their dead. What do you Utopians do?”

  “We live within a self-contained domed city having limited contact with the outside world. Our society places a heavy emphasis on recycling.”

  “Recycling?”

  “If a body’s not diseased, then it’s wasteful to burn it or stick it in a hole in the ground. The person may have died but the organs can benefit the living. Our doctors perform transplants routinely that save or extend many other lives. Many instruments can be crafted from bones and flesh can be tanned and used like leather. And of course, meat is always a scarce commodity.”

  Destine gulped. “That’s a very logical, if detached, approach. It makes sense in an environment of scarcity but some of my more emotional friends might find it… distasteful.”

  “I remember being a child before the pandemic. The first wave was only sixteen years ago, yet in many ways it was a lifetime ago. Things were so different. My mother would take me to places where groups of people would gather to consume meals. They served all types of food they made from plants and animals. I liked the ones called hamburgers… and ice cream. It was cold and sweet, and melted in your mouth. But those places are all gone now. Today we’re lucky to have anything to eat. When I was a little girl, we ate for pleasure; now, we eat to stay alive.”

  Destine nodded. “What happened to your mother? Did the plague—?”

  “No, she survived although my father didn’t. He was one of the leaders of the old city, the one that covered most of this whole area. When Proctor and his followers took over our neighborhood, they walled it off with the dome. They insisted we had to do things differently. My mother was one of those who disagreed.”

  “Was?”

  Maga gazed down. “Proctor doesn’t like people who disagree with him. They get sent to the farm to be recycled. The day my mother disappeared he told me he had arranged for me to come live with him and work as a maid. I wasn’t very happy but that night he served me hamburgers – the first I’d had since the plague – so that cheered me up a bit. They didn’t taste the same as I had remembered them but Proctor said it was just another example of how I had to get used to things being different. He added he had always found my mother distasteful so it was no surprise I did, too.”

  Covid, Kai, and Archer returned with the shovels. “Corona! Destine!” Covid called out. “Can you bring the bodies here while we dig the graves?”

  Destine nodded, grateful for the excuse to leave the conversation. She and Corona helped Robin carry Granny’s body to the makeshift cemetery the boys were constructing. Maga watched them lift Granny’s body and carry it off. They didn’t need anyone else to help and besides, Maga thought, it might be insensitive for a Utopian to intrude on Robin’s grief. She noticed the sunlight glinting off a piece of metal where Granny’s body had been. She bent and picked it up. Maga gasped at the familiar sight, realizing she was holding the St. Sebastian medal she’d always seen dangling from Proctor’s neck.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Archer and Robin stood over Granny’s freshly-dug grave, staring silently at the mound of dirt. The others – Covid, Corona, Kai, Destine, and Maga – waited several yards away. “They’re still in shock and bereaved,” Destine said.

  “Do you think they’ll be all right?” Covid asked. “I hate to leave them all alone like this.”

  “Granny wanted us to take Archer and Robin back with us to the bunker, where they could live among kids their own age,” Destine said. “She was going to try to convince them to leave. I don’t know if they would have but now they have no reason to stay.”

  Corona turned to Covid. “You know them. What do you think?”

  “I think we should make the offer and let them decide.”


  “You realize Varian won’t like bringing strangers into the bunker?” Kai asked.

  Covid grinned. “That’s all right; I don’t like Varian, do you?”

  Kai laughed. “I like him even less now that he’s in charge. It’s almost worth going back to the bunker just to make his life miserable.”

  Covid turned to his sister. “What about you? Will you come back with us or do you still plan to see the world?”

  “It’s a much bigger world than we thought it was and there’s a lot to see. I think we need to know what else is out there, if only for our own protection. I want to explore it – but not alone.” She glanced at Kai. “I’ll go back now and then we can plan a proper exploration expedition— with adequate supplies... and weapons.”

  “If they join us, Archer and Robin can teach you to shoot arrows,” Covid said. “And when you do go, I may go with you.”

  Corona gave him a surprised look. “I thought you were against us leaving the bunker?”

  “That was before I saw what was out here: the good and the bad. We do need to learn about the threats we face. And someone needs to keep you out of trouble.”

  Archer and Robin approached the group. “We want to thank you fer helping dig the graves,” Archer said.

  “What are your plans?” Covid asked.

  “Gonna find out who done this,” Robin said. “And kill them.”

  Archer nodded. “No matter how long it takes.”

  “I understand,” Destine said. “But if it was these Nomads you told us about or someone else passing through, you may never know who they were.”