A New World Order: Nikki's Story Part One

by A. M Martin

  I just stare at her. I don’t know what to fucking think about that.

  12

  THREE YEARS. LIFE SUCKS.

  “This looks like a cluster fuck of epic proportions.” I snarl down at the city below us, kicking the dirt with frustration.

  We ran out of gas, half a mile back and we’ve been walking ever since. The road we’re on wraps around a mountain and down below us look is a Valley with mountains on all sides except for this road and what I think is one on the opposite side of the town.

  Jason snorts, kneeling down in the dirt, and Cora throws her hands up in the air.

  “What do you want to do then? Backtrack?” Cora snaps.

  “I can’t handle your damn drama right now Cora. You’re the one who got us into this mess in the first place. ‘Oh, look a shortcut. Let’s take it’.” I say sassy.

  She ignores me, digging her boot into the dirt.

  I groan, with my hands on my hips looking down at the valley below us. There are lights. I’m not talking a few either. There’s flickering fire all over the damn place. The thing is, are they friendly? I snort at that. No one is really freaking friendly any more. They either want to kill you or capture you.

  “I’m not going back.” I state, shifting on my feet. I look up at the sky.

  “It’ll be dark soon.” Jason says.

  “Then we’ll sneak in and out the other side.” Cora mumbles and sits down.

  I look at her out of the corner of my eyes. Sure. This is not going to go the way we plan. This is a death trap. We all know it. But no one wants to say or turn back. We need food. Water. God, don’t we always.

  ◆◆◆

  “This is such a bad idea.” Cora mumbles under her breath.

  I give her a look and she flips me off.

  The three of us are currently hiding behind a burnt-out car in the town center and these people are fucking crazy.

  I say about fifty people stand around a large stage wearing sheets across their backs. Their laughter makes me grind my teeth and the smell. I try to breathe as shallow as I can. The smell of rotten meat is everywhere.

  It quiets down when an older man in a tarnished suit steps onto the stage.

  “Brothers!” He yells while holding his arms in the air. “Sisters!”

  The crowd cheers and Cora gives me a terrified look.

  “It’s time to feed on the weak. For only the strong can prosper and protect this valley.”

  Oh, my fucking god.

  “Who here volunteers to keep this valley and your people safe!” He yells, smiling, showing off his black rotten teeth.

  Cora looks shell-shocked. Jason grits his teeth and I watch. There’s movement from the left side of the crowd.

  “I do.” A small voice says.

  I start to stand when Cora pulls me back to the ground. A small child, maybe nine- or ten-years old, walks to the front of the stage. He bends down on one knee looking at the older man in the center.

  “Very well. Come child.” He waves his hand and meets the child beside the stage. They walk to the right and the crowd slowly follows them. It’s eerily quiet as they leave the town center.

  “We have to do something.” Cora whispers, looking horrified.

  I shake my head and stand up. “We can’t. There’s too many of them. Now’s our chance let's go.” I say walking low to the ground, heading straight for the road from the town center that leads out of this damn mess.

  ◆◆◆

  I’m munching on a stale bag of chips watching Cora stare out of the window of the gas station we found.

  “Stop it.” I say around a mouthful of chips. “You never should have let him go.”

  We’ve been camped out at this gas station for forty-five minutes now, waiting for Jason to come back. He went for the kid. The stupid ass and Cora didn’t stop him.

  Cora turns around with tears in her eyes, “What was I supposed to do? Tell him no?”

  “Hell yes! That’s exactly what you should have done.” I snarl.

  Cora opens her mouth but I shush her. I hear something on the side of the building. I walk slowly towards the wall and lean up against it. My ear is flush with the wall when I hear panting breaths.

  I look at Cora and pick up the axe by the front counter.

  “What are you going to do?” She whispers, following me, with an ax of her own.

  “Something.” I mumble, “Unless you want to leave?” I question stopping at the door.

  She shakes her head no and I slowly open the door.

  “Don’t let it shut.” I whisper, gradually walking to the corner of the building.

  My heart beats in my chest too fast. What’s around the corner?

  I close my eyes, breath in deep, and open them. I grip the ax and twist around the corner bringing the ax up to take a swing.

  I freeze.

  “What is it?”

  I drop the ax to my side and turn my head to look at my sister, “It’s Jason.”

  She rushes forwards and I stop her with my hands on her shoulders, “Cora no.”

  She pushes past me and screams. I shake my head and turn around. I walk to Cora and Jason.

  She’s kneeling on the ground beside him. Tears falling from her eyes. Her hand softly touches his cheek.

  Jason’s leaning up against the wall. Blood covers his mouth and his left arm is gone. I look around and see the blood trail. I slowly walk around the building and see it coming from the road. A trail leading to the right of us.

  I walk back to Cora and I honestly don’t know what to say to her. He’s dead. He tried to save the boy and died because of it. Yet he made it back here, to Cora only to die a few feet from her.

  “Cora. We have to go.” I say after an hour has passed. I’d like to give her all the time in the world to say good-bye but that is something we don’t have. We need to leave now. We should have already left.

  She stands up with blood and her knees and hands, “I loved him.”

  I wrap her in my arms. My hand running through her ponytail. “I know Cora. I know.” I say softly, “He loved you too.”

  I kiss her cheek and step away from her.

  We pull on our bags and start the long walk to who knows where. Nothing is safe.

  13

  FOUR YEARS INTO HELL

  On my hands and knees, I work furiously to scrub the hardened mud off the hallway floor. Several people rush past me, and I pay them no mind. I dip the now filthy rag into the dirty water, wring it out and go back to scrubbing. I smile. Can't help it. This is the last damn thing I have to do for these people. After this, I'm done. My debt paid in full. After that, I can finally leave after two months of working nonstop. Of being surrounded by idiots.

  Another group of people passes by, almost at a run. On my knees, I watch with narrowed eyes as they rush for the right corner which leads to the double doors, spilling into the front of the compound.

  “What's going on?” I ask the next person to pass me.

  “The greys are here,” she says without stopping, fear in her eyes.

  I took the liberty to ask around when I first got here. You can never be too careful with anyone these days. Be it the young or the old. Man or woman. No one can be trusted like it once was.

  The greys as I came to understand are another group they trade with, but by the fear, in the woman's voice, I'm wondering if I came to the wrong conclusion. Did I not ask around enough? Did I not question everything these people did enough? Only time will tell.

  I stand, a sickening feeling in my gut, turn and head for the doorway at the end of this hall that leads to the stairs. The rag and dirty water left forgotten in the hallway.

  This place used to be some type of school. Its once white walls are now a dull grey and splattered with mud. The blue checked floor is covered in years' worth of dirt, grime and dry blood. The leaders gave me the task of cleaning it since I stumbled upon this place two months ago. There are two levels and plenty of small rooms for everyone to b
e spaced out. The stairs take me up to the second floor, and I bypass the door and continue up to the roof.

  This isn't the first compound I've come to stay at, there are others like it out there in the world. It always comes at a price to get in if you’re not a part of the community and it's not always the safest place to be. I would have skipped this site in a heartbeat if it wasn't for the deep cut on my right arm getting infected. I needed medicine, and the pharmacy in this tiny town was looted. My only other options were here or cutting off my arm. I couldn’t afford to do that since I desperately need it to survive.

  I had to bargain to get in. Bargain for the medicine I needed. It's always the same in these places. You either deal, trade or work. I've done all three these past two months. It took a month of working in the gardens to pay off the medicine along with whatever else they wanted me to do for a room and food. Any spare time I had I was doing any other work I could get to earn vouchers for the small market they have inside; replenishing my pack and getting anything else I would need when I leave this hell hole. Which is in the morning.

  When I reach the door to the roof, I quietly place my small book bag in front of the door, keeping it open and slowly walk to the ledge of the roof that is facing the gate. I take my bag everywhere with me. It’s my lifeline and to lose your lifeline is to lose your life and I don’t plan on doing that anytime soon.

  There’s a large black truck and plenty of men in camo standing around it. I've come to learn that it's best to think the worst at all times.

  Pets, that's what I've come to call the men and women who live within the territories. They're the ones that hunt for the runners or go to the community collecting new people. They also fight the rebels. What they want with new ones is beyond me. I stay clear away from any known territory. They also attack places like this depending on their mood unless they have some type of deal worked out.

  The pets live in the territories under the rule of whatever Alpha, who has laid claim to that area. They are protected, somewhat from outside threats and any creature they come into contact with outside their territory lines. Most stay behind their lines except the hunter pets, and if my luck is horrible, they have a hound hunter with them. And it looks like this isn't a friendly discussion.

  The guy at the head of the group raises his gun and pulls the trigger. I feel no sorrow for the man, Paul Garrison. He’s the leader of this place, and he’s taken out with a shot to the head. He was one of the ones, I had to watch out for and never be alone with. The touchy sort.

  The gunman points his gun at the next man, Ben, Paul's son and says something. Ben nods and gives the signal for the gates to open. This is so not looking good.

  I always take a chance of something like this happening when I stop at small communities like this one. That's why I avoid them as much as possible. Runners are what everyone calls people like me. We're always on the go. Never laying down any roots. Always on the move. From one place to the next. Why? I couldn’t tell you. I just feel the need to keep moving, keep looking. For what? Who knows? I think I’ve gone a bit metal over the years.

  The woman screams and lashes out, followed by another gunshot. I take a glance at the door that’s still open.

  I've come to think the worst of everyone. You would too if you'd lived the life I have and lost just as many people.

  I glance around and try to figure out how the hell I'll get out of this mess as people start to pour from the building. They form a line, girls on the right. Boys on the left. A collection. I knew this place gave me bad vibes for a reason. So, I was right thinking the worst. It's not the greys, but the pets that come to get what they think they deserve.

  I head over to the edge, where the building backs up about a foot or two next to a river. I scan my eyes along the fence line in hopes of finding a way out of this prison. The truth is, I’d rather not climb the 8ft fence and fight with the barbed wire at the top and trying to go through the front gates is worse than death if caught. Staying here is not an option either.

  I've seen it happen far too many times when it was me, Cora and Jason together in places like this. They think they're safe behind the wire and fencing and yeah, they will be for a little bit. That is until the pets call for backup and everyone is majorly screwed. It's also another reason why I avoid places like this, it brings back bad memories and people I no longer have in my life.

  I no longer hear the screams or any more gunshots. It’s a green light to move my ass. I jog to the door, but stop when a pain filled yell reaches my ears.

  “There are two. A girl and an old man!”

  Rage boils up in my blood and I snap my teeth. So, this is an agreed upon trade. Not them forcing their way in and scooping up anyone they want. They have a deal with these people, turning in any runners. By the sounds of it though, they haven't met their quota.

  I sling my pack up and onto my back, heading down the stairs. I will not be collected. I'll kill myself first. I've heard stories from others and none of them are pleasant. I run down as fast as my size seven converse clad feet can carry me. I'm almost to the first level when I collide with something.

  There's a scream. Okay, so it's not something, it's a someone.

  A sweaty hand latches onto my arm as I fall backwards. I'm hitting the floor with an oomph. I shoot a nasty glare at whoever knocked me down. It makes me feel like an idiot. It's not like the person can see my death stare with it being pitch black in the stairwell.

  What little air I have in my lungs gets expelled through clenched lips when someone lands on top of me. Wincing in pain, I managed to grunt out, “Get off.”

  A meek, “Sorry,” comes from above me.

  From the sound of the voice, I know it’s a girl.

  She scrambles off me and sits down on my other side.

  Now that I'm able to breathe somewhat, I sit up and suck in a sharp breath. Damn, that hurts. My lower back will be a nice blue-black in a couple of hours.

  I turn my head to where the girl sat down, her panting breaths giving her away. “Who are you?” I spit it out. Fuming mad. I don’t like people at all. People are trouble. Big trouble, and the girl that just slammed into me must be worse than normal.

  I'm more than sure she can hear the anger lacing through my words. I hear a whisper, “It's me Tara.”

  Wonderful.

  Trying to tone down my anger this time, I ask, “What are you doing here?”

  There's a slight pause before she answers. “I was looking for you,” she mumbled.

  Okay, I get that, but why was she looking for me is what I was wanting to know. This shouldn't surprise me either. She's been two steps behind me once she realized I'm a runner. Being a runner and a female was a curiosity to her and most people here. What does surprise me is that she didn't follow me to the roof; that should have been my warning she'd show up sooner or later.

  “I was in the bathroom when you left.”

  I think she shrugs her small shoulders, there's a rustle of clothes, “I went looking for you and the greys are here. Where are you going in such a hurry?”

  “I'm leaving,” I inform her and open up the metal door, which leads down the dirty hallway towards the gym. The sun’s setting, casting the hallway in a red tone.

  “What. Why?” Tara rushes out, catching up with me.

  “I'm not getting captured,” I snap turning the corner.

  “But-”

  I stop in front of the big double doors leading into the gym and look at Tara. Her big brown eyes are wide with confusion.

  “You can't. The greys don't capture people. It's an honor to go with them.” She says in a confused tone. Her head tilted to the side.

  An honor yeah right.

  “How can that be an honor to go with the hounds? And why do you call them greys?”

  “Because of their markings and the Elders said it's an honor. It helps out the whole of the compound.”

  I look at her more closely and see that she actually believes that. How is tha
t even possible? How have the old people in this place wrapped the minds of the young ones?

  “It's not,” I say and pull open the right-side door to the gym. I head to the far side where the market place is set up. Running my hands on the tables, I stop when I touch a flashlight. I smile. I didn't want to do this in the dark and the windows are too high up to offer any light to see by and even if it did, the light wouldn’t last much longer. I click it on and glance at the various tables for what I need.

  Two of everything I need is in a pile on the dirty wood floor in a matter of minutes. I don’t have time for games, I need to get my ass moving. Always moving. Always running. Never stopping. That’s my life.

  I drop my shoulder bag down on the ground. The stuff I want to keep goes into the green hiking pack I picked off of one of the tables.

  Seeing Tara standing still, I motion for her to fill the other pack. The sleeping bag goes on top of my personal belongings along with a coil of rope, a tiny first aid kit, some fishing twine, and a couple of cans of food and the dried-out meat. I shove a box of crayons in there too.

  “Are you going with me or not?” I ask and don’t bother to look up from packing. “If you are, you need to start packing, like now.” After this, I shove the pocket knife in my jeans pocket and zip up the pack.

  “What do you mean it's not an honor?” Tara whines. She gets on the floor and starts to load up her own pack.

  If I never knew she was twelve, I'd think she was a lot younger. If she didn’t remind me of Amy, I'd leave her here.

  The thought of Amy causes one lone tear to fall from my eyes. Her and mum never had a chance. It took me and Cora two days to reach the base. By the time we got there, we looked for dad, who we didn't find and headed back home. It was too late. We could see the dark thick smoke billowing up into the sky miles away from our home. The government bombed our small town and with that we lost not only Dallas that first day but also mum and Amy and Dad. We didn’t know where he was. It was a mess.