by Mike Kilroy
“I don’t know. This. You being stuck here. You know, everything.”
She reached out her hand and grabbed his, squeezing it. Zack was amazed at how small it was, how thin her fingers were and how perfect her nails were. He was also amazed at how good it felt clasped in his.
Jenai smiled and chuckled. “You know, I hate to say it, but this is the most alive I’ve felt, being here in whatever this sick game is. My life was so boring back home. I was so ordinary and average. No one gave me a second look. But now I feel kinda special. They picked me. I’m special.”
Zack understood her reasoning. He, too, was ordinary and average. No one gave him a first look, let alone a second. For some reason, he and Jenai were chosen. He couldn’t think of one reason why.
“You know what I mean?” Jenai asked. Zack nodded. “I’ve been thinking about why? Maybe it is because we are so boring and average. Maybe we are like the control group. Maybe they want to see what we do and compare it to what another group is doing.”
Zack thought it an intriguing hypothesis. “What do we do?”
Jenai shrugged. “I guess we just have to be true to ourselves. I mean, you and me, we’ve never even hit anyone with malice. We are meek and that’s okay. That’s who we are.”
She rested her head on his shoulder again. “The others, though, why do they have to suck so much?”
Zack thought about it, and then laughed. “Well, Brock isn’t so bad.”
“No. He’s all right. But Harness is a big, stupid jerk. Cass just wants his D and Zill is just crazy. I guess Mizuki isn’t so bad, either, but I don’t think she likes me much.”
“She’s jealous of you.”
Jenai lifted her head quickly off his shoulder and made an O with her mouth. “Jealous of me? Why?”
“Because you and I have bonded I guess.”
Jenai smacked him on the shoulder. “You dog. You have two chicks pining for you.” Her voice raised into a shrieking mock. “Mizuki wants your D. Mizuki wants your D.”
Zack didn’t know how to react to that. He felt his face flush.
“What’s wrong?” Jenai said, obviously noticing Zack’s shyness. “Did I embarrass you?”
“A little,” Zack said, meekly.
“It’s okay, you know. It’s obvious. We’re not like the others. We’re the weakest two. We’re the outcasts. We have to stick together.”
“Like buds?”
Jenai frowned, and then turned it quickly into a smile. “Yeah. Sure. Like buds.”
She punched him on the shoulder, scooted away and folded her arms on her lap.
She sighed and peered around the room. She wiped her finger on the dusty floor and grimaced. “This place is disgusting.”
“It’s home for now. Eventually, though, we have to make some tough decisions.”
Jenai nodded and looked solemnly at the grimy floor. “We can’t be true to ourselves, can we? We’re going to have to kill them, aren’t we?”
Zack wanted to say no. He wanted to say there was another way, that they could negotiate a peace. But he knew that to be an untruth. “I think so.”
“Then,” Jenai lifted her head and showed him the spark in her eye. It was one Zack had never seen before. “Let’s do it.”
†††
Zack had never hunted before. Many of his classmates in Maine had gone out with their fathers—and even some with their mothers—to stalk such animals as deer, moose, bear, pheasant and wild turkey.
He had never fired a gun. He had never killed a living thing, save for the stink bugs that invaded their home in the spring and summer months.
Such vile things, those stink bugs. They look alien.
Zack began to wonder if they really were aliens. Anything was possible. This place had proven that.
He and Jenai had no plan of attack. Neither was experienced in the art of ruthlessness. Jenai had warned, though, the two living Germans were indeed skilled in such things. That only caused the angst to blossom inside Zack.
It rumbled in his gut and made him queasy.
As soon as the light became bright from behind the foggy windows, they set out. Zack held the pipe in his fist so firmly, his fingers throbbed.
Jenai walked behind him, peering about with eyes big and round. He could hear her heavy breaths as she followed.
They heard the sound of a pipe hitting the floor—at least it rattled like one—coming from behind them. Zack looked at Jenai fearfully. She had a frightened look on her face as well.
They crept in the direction of the noise. Zack knew full well the rattle could have been made to draw them into an ambush, but deep down he just wanted it to be over one way or another.
Jenai followed closely as Zack ducked under a row of hooks and through an arch into a wide open room, much brighter than any other in the warehouse. In the middle of the cement floor was a pipe, smeared with blood. Zack thought it could have been the one Harness carried, but was unsure.
Zack motioned for Jenai to stay put and she grudgingly agreed. Zack slinked into the room, looking to his left and then to his right and to his left and then to his right again, not wanting to be waylaid as Harness was.
He reached the pipe and then heard a rustling from behind him. The German boy emerged, his left arm tucked under Jenai’s chin so tightly she gasped for air. He held a pipe high over her head in a threat to bring it down and crack her skull.
He shouted something in German. Zack just held his arms up.
“We don’t have to do this,” Zack pleaded.
Just then he heard a shriek and felt a whack on the back of his leg from a pipe. He let out an “argh” and fell to the dirty cement floor. He grasped for his throbbing leg as pain snaked up it into his groin. Standing over him was a German girl, not much bigger than Jenai, with long blond hair tied back in a ribbon, a tank top much like what Zack wore, and a snarl on her lips.
She, too, yelled something in German as she brought the pipe down on him again, crushing the ribs on the left side of his torso. He could hear them crack.
Zack writhed in pain and looked back at Jenai, who whimpered and struggled. To his amazement, she broke free with a swift donkey kick to the German boy’s crotch. He fell to both knees and looked up at Jenai with pleading eyes.
Jenai wasn’t in the mood. She brought her pipe down on his head with all her strength. The first blow was enough to cause blood to stream down his face. The second blow knocked him to his back.
The German girl howled and began to sprint toward Jenai, but Zack was able to trip her. She plummeted face down onto the cement floor and broke her nose. Jenai held her pipe high and rushed toward the fallen German, but as she began to swing it down upon her, the German girl grabbed Jenai’s stubby legs and pulled her down.
They wrestled, throwing punches and grabbing handfuls of hair. Finally, The German girl was able to snatch the pipe and swung it violently. It connected with Jenai’s jaw and Zack could hear the sound of bones cracking. Jenai lay there, unconscious, and at the German girl’s mercy.
“No! Don’t do it!” Zack pled. He could barely speak from the pain in his leg and ribs. He crawled toward Jenai. The German girl straddled her, raised the pipe clutched tightly in both hands and muttered something in German before she thrust it down viciously and with such brutal force it caved in Jenai’s face.
The German girl dropped the pipe in shock. Her whole body shook in horror as she sobbed hysterically.
Zack felt rage well up in him, so much hate it blocked the pain he was feeling. All he wanted was the German girl’s blood to spill and he would have it at any cost. He somehow pushed himself to his feet, snatched a pipe off the floor and hobbled toward her. The German girl just stared down at Jenai, catatonic and frozen.
Zack got close enough to take a swing and did, grazing the girl’s head. Still, it was enough to knock her off Jenai into a heap next to her.
The pain had become too much and Zack collapsed to the floor again. He crawled on his elbows, draggin
g his mangled leg behind him until he was almost on top of the German girl.
He looked down into her eyes, which were unfocused and glassy; blood trickled out of a gash opened up just below her hairline. A tear spilled and rolled down her temple.
“Bitte,” she said. “Bitte. Ich will einfach nur nach hause gehen. Ich will einfach nur nach hause gehen.”
Zack had no idea what that meant in German, but he could read faces well enough. The German girl wanted compassion. She wanted mercy even though she showed Jenai none, even though her group had shown Brock, Zill, and Cass and even Harness little.
As Zack was about to end her life, a thought popped into his head, one that quelled his bloodlust.
They were just like them. His group had shown no mercy, either. His group had killed and maimed and destroyed.
I will not sink to their level. I will not give our captors the satisfaction.
Zack dropped the pipe and it made that sound of metal hitting concrete—a ting-ting that means peace.
He lay next to the German girl. He turned his head to look at her and she turned hers to gaze at him. Their eyes met in mutual pity.
“I won’t kill you,” Zack whispered.
And then he screamed, “I won’t kill her! You hear that?” even though it hurt terribly to do so. “I won’t end her life for your amusement. Is this all you got for us? Is this our fate? Well, you’re gonna have to come down here and finish us because I won’t!”
They lay there for what seemed like days, but in fact were probably only a few hours. Neither of their wounds was severe enough to kill them. They were bad enough to limit them, certainly. The German girl tried several times to get up, but instead flopped back down on the cold, hard floor. Zack couldn’t even entertain the thought of moving. He wanted to very badly as the blood that had spilled from the German boy and Jenai was soaking into the back of his head.
Instead he stared at the rippled metal ceiling and prayed. He had hoped God was with him. He had hoped God was truly everywhere, but he was beginning to doubt that.
He closed his eyes tightly and breathed deeply, each inhale and exhale sending ripples of pain through his side.
He didn’t mind it anymore.
The pain meant he was still alive.
Part I
Chapter Six
Buzzkill
Zack was the first to arrive in their new setting, a sprawling mansion with high ceilings, white marble floors and plush, designer furniture.
There was what must have been the biggest flat screen television Zack had ever seen mounted on the wall in the main room. Every video game console ever made was lined up on a shelf under it; wires snaked from them to a large switch.
Zack made his way up a winding staircase to the landing of a long hallway. Doors lined both sides of the wide corridor. He opened the first door just to the right of the landing and was stunned to see a lavish bed in the center of it, another rather large flat-screen television mounted to the wall and more gaming consoles. He imagined every room was similar.
He meandered back downstairs and spotted another door that led to a lower level. He carefully prowled down the steps.
Zack thought nothing about his new surroundings would shock him anymore.
He was wrong.
In this room was a two-lane bowling alley. Through a glass wall on the left he could see a racquetball court. Through a glass wall on the right was a basketball court.
He couldn’t help but smile.
“Holy crap!” Brock bellowed as he descended the stairs. It was very un-Brock-like. It took a lot to elicit such an emotional outburst from him. He guessed a bowling alley did the trick. “This place is spectacular.”
One by one the others descended the stairs, all with a look of awe on their healthy faces.
Jenai sprinted to Zack and threw her arms around him. “You avenged me. I always wanted to be avenged.”
Zack was about to tell her the truth, that he, in fact, did not avenge her, that he had the opportunity to do so, but chose mercy instead. He wanted to say that he didn’t strike the death blow upon the German girl out of some sort of honor. The fact, he came to realize, was he didn’t have killing in him.
He opened his mouth and the first few words of his confession spilled out, but he was interrupted by Harness.
“You did it, dweeb. You freaking did it.” Even in a compliment, Harness found a way to belittle. “I can’t believe you did it. You won it for us. You won it big time.”
Harness gave Zack a hardy slap on the back. It stung. Zack wanted to wince, but he smiled through gritted teeth instead. Wincing would show weakness. I have plenty of weaknesses, no need to show them all.
Even Cass offered congratulations. “You’re okay.” She offered him a drag from her e-cigarette, but he politely declined.
Zack felt the urge to set them straight.
He felt a bigger urge not to.
How could he? The drug of acceptance was intoxicating.
Harness stared at him with a huge, perfect grin on his face. “So, how did you do it?” Harness made a quick downward thrust of his right hand repeatedly. “Did you bash their brains in?”
Jenai answered for him. “There was the two of us and the two of them. They were Germans by the way, not aliens. The German dude grabbed me, but I kicked him in the balls and smashed his head in.” Jenai offered that explanation with full shadow reenactment. “Then the German chick and I fought and she must have killed me. Zack must have finished her off.”
Zack flashed a half smile as the group peered at him with adulation.
Harness let out a hoot. “Man, didn’t think you had it in ya. We’ll make a cold-blooded warrior killing machine out of you yet. They’ll all see you, a weak little runt with match-stick arms and they’ll underestimate you, then— BAM! —you’ll pulverize them into frickin’ dust. We’ll be unstoppable.”
Harness grabbed a bowling ball, lifted it high in the air in triumph and rolled it down the lane. It struck the head pin perfectly and the other nine fell.
He was even good at that. Is he bad at anything?
The others, except for Mizuki, who sulked in the corner, laughed, looked for a bowling ball that fit their fingers, and joined in. The crash of the pins became deafening.
Zack just watched.
Jenai, after rolling another gutterball, noticed Zack moping and playfully walked over to him. “What’s wrong, bae?”
“Bae?”
“Yeah. Before Anyone Else, stupid. You’re my bae. My baby. Why is my bae Mr. Pouty Pants?”
“Nothing. I’m okay.”
“No. You’re not okay.” She slapped his cheek gently with her small hand. He barely felt it. “I know when something’s eating at you.”
“I just know this won’t last.”
Jenai grabbed his hand and pulled. She was back on her heels, tugging and giggling. “No, it probably won’t. But you should enjoy it while it does.”
There was a certain undeniable logic in what Jenai had said. The warehouse showdown was over. They were here and they were being rewarded. Perhaps their captors had seen something in Zack’s mercy that they liked. Perhaps Zack had done the right thing after all, even though he so wanted to bring that pipe down on the German girl’s head with full force and fury.
Zack gave in to the fun. He smiled, grabbed a cherry red bowling ball, his fingers slipping into the holes perfectly, and joined in.
Self-loathing could wait.
†††
Zack had seen a shift in the way the others treated him. Harness was much less bullying. Zill offered to heat up a Hot Pocket for him and even Cass smiled at him between puffs of vapor… once.
Mizuki was distant and detached. She had been since they came here. Brock was still very Brock-ly.
Jenai had always treated Zack well and fawned over him more than usual now. Zack was beginning to feel more and more uncomfortable around her, though. She was trying too hard.
She needn’t try so h
ard.
He tried to tell her as such, but he couldn’t find the proper words. He knew her well—he was quite like her. She was fragile and over analytical. There was no way to say what he needed to say to her without it coming out all wrong. So he shut his mouth.
They bowled. They played basketball. They played racquetball and video games. There was a large store of food—delicacies really. Jenai was overjoyed to find some Bethmannchen in a plastic bag in the large refrigerator.
When Jenai saw them, she burst with joy and let out a high-pitched scream that Zack was sure would shatter the glass vases strewn all about the elegant kitchen. “Oh. My. God. My grandma would bag them up just like this for me to take home.”
She offered one to Zack and he took a bite. It was really quite good.
Zack found Olive Garden croutons; Harness had an ample supply of beef jerky; Brock was delighted to see sunflower seeds and tacos; Cass had celery and a large jar of low-fat peanut butter; Zill had pickles; Mizuki had nothing and she didn’t seem to care.
It was all too perfect and it gave Zack an overwhelming feeling of dread.
Zack got the sense their captors were placating them, giving them a few days of joy now before they unleashed incredible terror later.
That thought stuck with him throughout this day, no matter how hard he tried to shake it with croutons and strikes on the bowling alley and flags captured in war-like video games.
It was a day far better than any since he had arrived here—he still wasn’t sure where here was, even after all this time. The same was true for the others, who smiled and laughed and, for the most part, got along, which was an amazing triumph.
Zack couldn’t understand why he felt so much angst.
They sat around the large television on beanbag chairs that swaddled them and on the couch that they sunk into with great comfort. Zill and Cass played a video game Zack didn’t recognize.
“Heal me,” Zill asked.
“Heal yourself. You have a stimpak.”
“I only have one. You have like a zillion. I’m dying here.”
“You’ll live.”
Zack glanced at Brock, who sat in his own little corner of the cosmos, pondering deep and profound thoughts with his hands clasped and his index fingers pressed against his lips.
