Haven Ward

by Elias Witherow

“He’s close. I know he is.”

  The rat decided I looked like a warm place to nest and suddenly sprang into my shirt, wiggling its thick hairy body against mine. I screamed. I couldn’t help it. I hate, hate, hate, rats.

  The men heard me scream, both of them ducking down, heads appearing under the house, staring at me. Both of them smiled, teeth missing, the others rotting.

  “Oh look at that! The rat decided to go home!” One of them laughed.

  Pounding the rodent out of my clothes I wiggled and crawled towards the opposite side of the house, adrenaline channeling though me.

  “Quick catch him on the other side!” They were on the move again. I knew I had seconds.

  I popped out of the other side of the house looking like I had been spawned from a full toilet and bolted up the street. I had a vague idea of where I was and a new plan was forming in my head. It was going to be risky, but right now I didn’t have a lot of options.

  The men appeared from around the building and were in full sprint in seconds. God I hated this city. I crashed into a vendor who was wheeling her cart across the street, some foul looking soup spilling everywhere. I felt the steam and heat from it sear my skin.

  “Oh look what you’ve done!” The old woman cried, trying to swat me. I got to my feet and saw I had lost precious distance between me and the Hunters. I was close though, so close just hold on a little longer. People stared as I flew by them, my legs turning to butter and lungs howling.

  “We’re going to eat you alive, boy!” the Hunter screamed.

  I turned and flew up another alley way, passing a young girl who looked like a corpse with skin, just lying there, staring at me. I felt a pang of sympathy as I sped up. At the end of the alleyway I saw what I was looking for. Hazmats. I was at the gates to Midtown.

  “Please help me!” I yelled with the last drops of my breath, “These men are trying to kill me!” I covered my gun with my cloak.

  The Hazmats turned and looked at me, heavy high caliber rifles in their hands. They looked like guardians of hell. Their neon green and black uniforms were in sharp contrast to the brown world of the Gallows. Their masks were black, the slits for their mouths nothing but three vertical slashes, their bright green goggles making them look alien. The hoods they wore were thick and heavy, shadowing their eerie masks, making them seem even more hostile and deadly.

  One of them held up a gauntlet gloved hand, stopping me, “What’s wrong boy?” his voice was altered through some kind of voice box, all part of the faceless identity scheme the Saction established. All Hazmats looked and sounded exactly alike that way if one of them was cast out or off duty, the opposition and rebels wouldn’t tear them apart.

  I stood panting in front of them as the two Hunters ran around the corner, slowing when they saw the Hazmats.

  “These two men are trying to kill me!” I cried out again, pointing and trying to sound like a terrified little boy. It didn’t take much acting.

  One of the Hazmats shifted his gun on his arm, standing to face the Hunters, “This true?”

  “He killed one of our friends!” They both shouted, outraged.

  I shrunk back, eyes wide, “I would never do that, I’m just a little kid, I hate killing!” God this was pathetic. If word of this ever got back to King, I’d never hear the end of it.

  “He’s a lying little shit! He shot one of our gang members dead in the street last night!” One of them yelled, furious.

  The Hazmats looked at each other, eyes unreadable underneath the goggles. They turned back to the Hunters, “He’s just a mud rat, leave him alone. You know the Sanction forbids killing.”

  “Then you should arrest him! Ask around, you stupid bag of piss! Everyone knows he’s the Hunter Killer!” One of the Hunters bellowed stepping forward.

  The gunshot was deafening. It was as if thunder had cracked inches from my ears. I jumped, heart stopping.

  The Hunter looked down at his chest, eyes wide as he saw a hole the size of a fist punched through it, dripping hot wet blood. He slumped to the ground. Blood pooled around him as his life was drained before our eyes. There was so much of it. I shivered, heart beating fast.

  The Hazmat lowered his smoking gun, “The Sanction doesn’t condole killing,” he repeated.

  The remaining Hunter just stared at his friend mouth agape, “You…you…you shot him! He didn’t do nothing and you bloody shot him!”

  The other Hazmat raised his gun, pointing it at the Hunter’s head, “Get the fuck out of here.” The Hunter ran, terrified.

  I gulped as they turned to me. The one with the blood on his hands grabbed me by the collar and slammed me into the Midtown wall that circled the city. He stared at me with those green goggles, inches from my face. Through his mask, I could feel his rank breath on my face. I said nothing, more scared then I’ve ever been in my life. This was the first time I’d actually engaged with a Hazmat and I wasn’t liking it.

  “You listen and you listen close you little shit. Don’t you think I did that for you. If I could, I’d blow a hole through your little rat body too. Now tell me what the hell you did to piss off those men. And don’t you dare play the innocent little boy again or I’ll stomp your goddamn face so far into this ground they won’t have to bother digging a grave. You hear what I’m saying you little bastard?!”

  I swallowed hard, “Y-yes sir. I understand.”

  “Now what did you do.”

  My throat had gone dry. I was staring death in the face and he wasn’t smiling, “I-I just s-stole some food from him, that’s it. I was starving and…and…” I trailed off miserably.

  The Hazmat said nothing, just holding me, grinding me into the thick, high wall. After a few breathless seconds he threw me on the ground.

  He flicked a finger at the other guard, “Search him.”

  Oh no.

  I was hauled up again, feeling miserable and helpless. Hands went through my pockets and there was nothing I could do about it. My gun was the first thing they found. He held it up, checking to see if it was loaded.

  “What the hell are you doing with a gun?”

  “P-protection. I’m an easy target cause I’m just a kid,” I stuttered.

  The Hazmat pointed a finger at me, his voice iron, “Don’t play that card with me asshole. I warned you.” The one going through my pockets slugged me in the gut with a gauntlet. I sank to my knees, eyes bulging, air robbed from my lungs.

  “What else does he have?”

  The Midtown pass was fished from my pocket, “Well, well, well you’re just full of surprises aren’t you? And what do you need this for? More protection?” He chuckled. Through his voice box it sounded like the devil.

  With nothing left but the truth, I confessed, knowing there was nothing left to do, “I…was going to…sell it.”

  “I’m sure you have the authorization and permit for this also?” The one who killed the Hunter grunted.

  I looked up at him, eyes lidded with contempt, done playing the scared baby, “Are you shitting me?” For that little comment I got a boot to the gut.

  “When you’re done being cute and want to start answering some questions, I’ll be waiting right here,” the Hazmat growled. The other was winding up for another kick. I held up my hand, stopping him.

  “Look…I’m just trying to…survive,” I wheezed.

  They stood there, staring down at me, fingers playing with their guns. Judgment time. I awaited their verdict, a string of bloody drool leaking from the corner of my mouth.

  “Get the hell out of here kid,” One finally said, storing away my gun and pass into his coat.

  “Please,” I begged, “Please I need that paper.”

  Suddenly I was sprawled on my back with a gun barrel down my throat. It was still hot and the gun powder was bitter on my tongue.

  “If you don’t shut up and get your rat ass out of here in the next five seconds I’m going to blow your tiny, bitch head off all over the road,” He growled. “And if you say anothe
r word to me, I’m going to beat you within an inch of your life and then ship your ass to Haven Ward. Do we have an understanding?”

  I nodded, gulping hard. I was so screwed. If I didn’t have that pass I couldn’t work the deal and that meant I had just cost King quite a bit of glu. I needed to get it back, somehow, someway, I needed to find half a gallon before night. I wish I had my gun back so I could shoot myself.

  Picking myself up, holding my aching stomach, I walked away, feeling hateful eyes drilling into the back of my head. My heart was still pounding, my head dizzy at what just happened. I felt like I needed to throw up. This would for sure get me kicked out of Dynasty Tribe. Maybe I could still get the money from Rocks. Maybe I could rob him. I shook my head, yeah rob him with what? Threaten to stone him? You don’t have a weapon idiot. Walking around without my pistol, I felt naked, exposed, in danger. And then there was the bounty on my head. If someone tried to kill me I’d have no way of protecting myself.

  “Come on Weston, think!” I muttered. My hands were shaking, unable to stop. “What do older people do when they’re faced with an impossible problem?” I asked myself. I snorted, “Get drunk…that’s not going to do a whole lot of good right now.” I knew that if the little bit of protection I got from King was lifted, its be like tossing a baby into a shark pit. I’d be devoured. Damn it.

  I couldn’t let King down. Not again. Not after last night. He believed in me and I messed everything up. I couldn’t go back and face him empty handed. I couldn’t. I couldn’t.

  People were avoiding me again, but it was probably the smell. The shit and mud caked to my body was beginning to dry, trailing an awful stench that made my eyes water. Maybe I could give Rocks a great big bear hug and not let go till he gave me the glu. I was so, so screwed.

  I spent most the afternoon wondering around the Midtown wall, mind racing, trying to come up with some way, something, anything. My mind was as blank as the rusted metal that I was now running my hand over. The wall. Keeping the rats like me out. I wondered if maybe I could find some way to sneak over it and beg for the money. Midtown wasn’t loaded, but people certainly lived decent lives. Maybe a few would be kind enough to through a few tabs my way. As dusk dawned, I found myself sitting on the curb of a quiet street, staring at nothing, mind fried, reality chomping away at me.

  The gray colors of the sky began to wash away, as a new tide of black night clouds began to brew. Another storm tonight. More rain. Maybe I’d get lucky and get struck by lightning. I felt so humbled, so alone. Defeated. Broken. I was going to be all alone again, left by my tribe. I began to cry.

  The first drops of rain hit my head and I looked to the growing darkness with bloodshot eyes. What a miserable existence. Wiping my face, I began to get up when, across the street, I spotted a Draw machine. I stood, alone in the street, staring. What if…

  I shook my head. Everyone knew that was a fools game. If you won great, but if you lost and were broke like I was, you were going to get nailed to the wall. I lingered though, my fingers playing with the torn fabric of my cloak. It was risky. I grunted. Everything about the Gallows was risky. And I didn’t have much of a choice. Hell I didn’t have a choice. This was my only option left. I crossed the street to the machine.

  It was a gray metal box, about two feet taller than I was. On the right side it had a scanner where you put your thumb, identifying who you were. That way if you owed they’d know who and how much. In the center was a screen with words that encouraged everyone to play promising that everyone had a fair chance. I pulled out a tablet, looking at it as my mind turned this idea over and over again.

  “I’m either dead or alone if I don’t give this a shot,” I said to myself. I pressed my thumb up to the scanner. A light lit up under it and then a little beep confirmed my identity. My face popped up on the screen. When anyone is born, the Sanction gets their prints and if you don’t let them scan the newborns thumb, they have the right to kill not only the parents but the baby as well. Thanks mom whoever you are.

  The machine indicated that I needed to insert my tab. Holding my breath, I slid it in. On the screen a roulette wheel began to spin faster and faster, the words WIN WIN WIN flashing in bright yellow. I touched the screen again and from the bottom slot under the display, a little card slid out.

  Too late to turn back now. Heart hammering, breath coming in short little gasps, I picked up the card and flipped it over, eyes scanning the prediction.

  I fell to my knees, dropping the paper into the mud. I couldn’t breathe, my lungs had squeezed shut. My whole body was trembling. No way. No. No no way. I felt nauseous, sick, my head growing faint, my stomach turning to rot. I picked up the card and read it again:

  We’re sorry, you are not a winner.

  Please go to the Draw Office to pay amount owed

  Amount: 10,000 gallons of liquid glu

  I threw up, body shaking uncontrollably. Fresh tears sprang to my eyes. I lay there in the muck, unable to grasp what just happened, how much trouble I was in, how bad my life was about to get. There was no way. No way. Maybe if they saw I was just a kid they’d have pity on me. I knew that wasn’t true though. You couldn’t pay, they’d hunt you down and ship you to Haven Ward. Oh my god. Oh no please god. What was I going to do? Just what the hell was I going to do?! I was in more trouble than I could grasp. No one had that much glu in the Gallows. If you took all of it, you still wouldn’t even have half of that.

  I needed help. I needed to run. I needed to get this sorted out, what the hell just happened to me? King. Need King. He’ll get this cleared up. He has too. He’s a grown-up. He’ll know what to do. He’ll figure this out. No. No. Not yet. First I needed to calm down…figure out what I was going to tell him. I needed a friend. My mind flashed to Ashleign, but the last thing I wanted was to get her mixed up in this. Roland. I’d go to his shack. Yes.

  I don’t remember getting there, it was nothing but a timeless plod through the Gallows, noticing no one, smelling nothing, feeling void. If one of the Hunters had approached me and stuck me in the gut I wouldn’t even have noticed. I’d probably start to feel sleepy and then realize I was on the ground with something warm and sticky coming out of me.

  When I got to his shack I didn’t bother knocking, just shoved the door opened and went to his bedroom. He lived alone so the house was silent. He was lying on his mat, leg still wrapped up. The Dynasty tribe members must have left. All the better. He sat up when he saw me.

  “Holy shit, what happened to you?! You look like you’ve been dragged through the sewers!”

  I said nothing as I sat down next to him, just tossing him the card that marked my doom. He looked at it. Then he looked again. Then he looked at me, his face ghostly.

  “Oh my god West…oh my…oh my god! W-what are you going to do!? Why did you get this?!” he croaked, rubbing absently at his wounded leg.

  “I’m dead,” I said, my voice monotone, a black hole of despair, “I’m a dead man walking.”

  “We can figure this out, West.”

  “What we can figure, is when the Hazmats are going to come for me.”

  “Don’t talk like that.”

  “Don’t tell me what to do.”

  Roland scrubbed his black dirty hair, “You should talk to King. He’ll help you.”

  I put my face in my hands, “I messed up. I messed up a mission he gave me. I cost him a lot of glu. I panicked, I didn’t know how to make it right. After…after last night…I felt like I needed to prove myself again. Son of a bitch Roland, what am I going to do?!”

  “Talk to King,” he suggested, his voice cloaked in artificial calm.

  “You said that. He doesn’t have this kind of glu. No one does.”

  “Well maybe he can protect you?”

  “Protect me?!” I yelled, suddenly getting angry, “You think King can protect me from the entire Sanction Army?!”

  Roland held up his hands, “Sorry boss.”

  “Don’t call me boss.”

&n
bsp; “But you are.”

  “I’m your friend first.”

  Roland patted my arm, “Look. Don’t freak out just yet. No doubt you’re in some deep shit, but I’d at least talk to King before you come to any conclusions. Maybe they pardon the first payment?”

  I snorted, “Yeah the Sanctions known for its compassion.”

  “Will you just go see King?”

  I sighed, exhaling all the stress and fatigue, anger and helplessness, “Ok buddy. Ok. I’ll go.” I stood and headed for the door. I turned back, “You get the leg healed up, pal.” Roland smiled and gave me the thumbs up. In his eyes I saw the same dim hopelessness I felt in my heart. Ah shit.

  Chapter 4

  Dynasty Gern was buzzing when I arrived. Everyone was talking, moving quick, heavily armed. It made me nervous. No one noticed as I walked in, pushing through the thick mood of hostility. They were gearing up for war.

  When I entered King’s office, he was talking to two of his generals, their faces portraits of stone. I waiting patiently by the door, arms crossed. I was scared out of my mind. I didn’t want to do this. I didn’t want to have to tell King that I failed him. Failed him and was damned. It was only a few minutes that I waited, but it felt like an eternity. Finally the generals left and King slumped down in his chair, reaching for his pipe. When he spotted me by the door his eyes lit up.

  “Oh! Weston. I didn’t see you there. Come in, come in. Wow you’re dirty.”

  Trembling, I approached. How was I supposed to start this conversation? How the hell was I suppose to tell the one person in the whole world who helped me, that I had let him down? For all my wandering and time I had to think about what to tell him, I had come up with nothing. No clever way to break the news to him, no play on words that would help my situation. I had nothing but the raw, bare truth.

  “King…there’s…something…”

  He was packing his colossal pipe again, “Hm? What’s up? How did the trade go? Everything go ok? There shouldn’t have been any trouble like I said, we’ve been pretty friendly with the Dragon Gern of late and Rocks is a good man. Damned if I know what he wants the pass for but that’s not my worries.” He paused and seemed to realize something, “Oh, sorry…rambling. You look uneasy, what’s going on? Did the trade go through?”