The morning was bright and cold, typical of the desert climate. Sometimes, when the light was just right, the landscape was oddly beautiful. But that was out of town. Along the street there was no beauty, only garbage and decay. Limbo had once been a modern, sprawling desert town, full of gleaming shopping centers, freshly-paved roads and neatly-landscaped greenbelts. Now it was taken over by dust and weeds, and most of the buildings were nothing more than crumbling shells. Anti-Vorak and Worldcorp graffiti adorned fences and walls. Sidewalks and parking lots were cracked, and cars still remained where they ran out of gas.
Vorak death strikes had blown through several years ago, from what Selah had been told, so many parts of town had been leveled. Eventually, people found their way back to these bombed and burned-out towns and cities, and did their best to put their lives back together. Some even managed to return to their old homes -- if they were still standing. Selah wondered what had become of her old house, which was nothing more than a vague memory to her now. It was far away, or at least it seemed like it was.
She arrived at the well and tried to breathe the way her father had taught her. In through her nose, out through her mouth. He understood her anxiety because he had suffered through it as well, but it never seemed to keep him from taking action. He was a hero in her mind, and in the minds of many others. She, on the other hand...Well, she certainly was no hero. Most of the time, she felt like a burden. She snapped out of her daydreams and surveyed the scene.
The long line was full of boisterous children, leering men, bitchy girls with something to prove, and women with vacant, defeated faces. It occurred to Selah that some people thrived in this new world. She wasn’t one of them. The “old world” wasn’t all that old, and although she was young when everything changed, she still remembered it. The comfort, the security.
She walked down the main street, toward the far end of town. Comfort and security. She thought of the conversation she’d had with Nat the night before. “I just wish things would go back.”
“Back?”
“Yeah, back. You know, before aliens came and screwed us all over?” Selah spoke slowly, as if to a child. She felt impatient with Nat sometimes. She, of all people, could remember what a normal life was like, yet Selah never heard her complain. She only reminisced about her favorite bookstore, hot coffee and good wine.
“And what do you think the world was really like back then?”
“Better than this. Safe. No one going hungry, no one getting murdered in the street for looking at someone the wrong way, or just for a pair of shoes. Not being forced to marry someone you don’t love or have babies you can’t feed.”
“And you think all that started when the Voraks came? You think that stuff didn’t happen before?”
Selah studied her for a minute. It certainly didn’t happen in her young life. She didn’t remember anything bad happening before the Voraks.
“I’m sure the world wasn’t perfect, Nat. But it had to be better than this. People are horrible now because of...them. Do you think Garrett would have been a raping, murdering bastard if goddamn aliens hadn't come, leveled his home and killed his family?”
Nat sighed, then laughed softly. Then she nodded.
“Selah, men like Garrett have always been here. Everywhere you look. The person that Garrett is was there before the Voraks were. Trust that. Rape, murder, racism, religious fanatics, famine, war...Selah, that has always been here.” She paused. “The only thing that the arrival and the war with the Voraks did was bring the worst of humanity into the light. I don’t usually speak about these things because everyone wants to blame everything on them, but truthfully, this is who we are." She leaned forward a bit. “Animals, Selah. We were just domesticated animals. Now we’re wild again.”
She looked up and saw Don and Jamie Sherman trudging up the road, followed closely by their daughter, Ella. She hadn’t seen them in months, not since they had abandoned Limbo to join the camp of the True Believers. They were religious people before everything had gone to shit, and had set up the church over on Dell Street, but the drinking, violence and “loose, sinful activities” of the settlement caused them to look to the True Believers. Now they were back.
Where was David? He was a year or two younger than Kent, small and quiet. He hadn’t wanted to leave, she remembered. He had shown up and pleaded with them to let him stay.
She walked past them, they didn’t look up. She saw Frank and Denise, a couple in their mid-thirties, pushing a wheelbarrow and flanked on either side by their frolicking brood. Selah liked Denise, who was much gentler than many of the women in the settlement, more like Nat.
“Hey, Denise!” Selah skipped over and fell into step with her.
“Hey Selah. What’s up?”
“Did you see the Shermans? When did they get back in town?”
Frank looked up from balancing the wheelbarrow and cocked an eyebrow at her. “You didn’t hear?”
“No, you know I stay in most times. I miss out on all the latest, why? Hear what?”
She smiled at Denise's youngest, Brett, who smiled shyly back. He was about eight or nine, the other two just a couple years older, all boys. Brett was her favorite though, sweet and silly with big blue eyes. He adored Selah, and often came to their home to borrow books from Nat.
Denise started. “Well, they went up the road to that damned True Believer camp. People told them it was bad news, but they insisted that this place was just a hotbed of sin and we were all going straight to hell, so there was no talking ‘em out of it.”
Frank cut in. “Yeah, so they went and I don’t know all what happened, but from what I hear, they got some pretty strict laws and some mighty weird practices. Shit, they’re fanatics, for God’s sake. What did they expect?”
“So what happened?” They were nearing the well, and she began looking around nervously. Maybe if she was busy in conversation, no one would bother her.
“Welp, turns out they caught wind of young David taking a liking to one of their boys, if you know what I mean.”
“Oh.” Selah had wondered about him a little.
“So, according to their law, he had committed a serious sin. And, I guess they don’t take that kind of thing lightly.”
Denise grew quiet, and a sad look spread across her face.
“What the hell happened?”
“They stoned him.”
“What?”
“Stoned him. They took up big rocks, tied him to a tree and threw them at him 'til he was a dead, bloody pulp. Right in front of Jamie, right in front of Ella. I heard they even made Don throw a couple.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah, I guess they let Jamie and Ella off the hook, but yeah, they made Don do it, or they were gonna do the same to him.”
Denise spoke up. “They had to sneak out in the middle of the night, and come back here to Limbo without their poor boy. I can’t imagine how they must feel.”
Selah shook her head. She didn’t need to hear this story to know that the True Believers were trouble. She had run into them when she and her siblings were on the road, after they split up with their Father.
The True Believers took them in, fed them and gave them water, then started preaching about Armageddon, about the end times and how their sins had brought this mess on them. They talked all kinds of crazy stuff, and tried to get her and Nieve to put on dresses. Said they could be married the next morning, if they wanted, and could live as faithful, obedient women in God’s eyes. When they declined the offer, things got ugly.
After the news of the Shermans' situation sank in, Denise and Frank bid her farewell and found their place in line. Selah scanned the crowd, looking for Nat’s face. Maybe she was at the general. Nat always had stuff for trade, and was probably loading up on more homemade wine and maybe a few books or old magazines, often brought by travelers passing through town to stock up on other supplies. Ooh, maybe she’ll get some toothpaste. She could only hope.
“Hey, bit
ch!”
Startled, Selah looked toward the source of the insult and came face to face with Ruthie, Garrett’s wife. She was flanked by Jenna and Sam, hard-looking girls who were always seeking fights and attention. Tilly was there, too, with her little group, miniature versions of her big sister and friends.
Great. Here we go. Knew this was coming.
Ruthie stepped closer to her, and Selah took a step back. She was Selah’s opposite, a robust, fair-haired girl with broad shoulders and blue eyes.
“What the hell were you doing talking to Garrett?”
Selah sighed. This wasn’t going to go well. She rubbed her palms on the front of her jeans. Sweat broke out under her arms and on the back of her neck. She swallowed the lump in her throat and willed herself to speak.
“He was talking to me. I wish he would stop. Maybe you could say something to him.”
“Just what does that mean?”
She shoved Selah, hard. Selah stumbled backward but kept her footing.
“Answer me.”
Selah did her best to look Ruthie in the eye. She knew she shouldn’t show fear, or back down.
“I don’t want your man, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Worried! Are you kidding me?”
She shoved Selah again, not as hard--and got right in her face.
“You should go follow your sister,” Ruthie hissed. "Go run like a baby to live with the other commies.”
“Yeah, you don’t belong here,” Sam piped in. She spit on the ground just like Garret had the day before. Selah grimaced. People were gross.
“You might live longer,” Jenna finished. “Or you might die like your crazy Daddy.” She laughed.
Selah’s face flushed with a mixture of fear and anger. She had a temper, but when it came down to it, she hated confrontation. No matter how angry she got, her anxiety got the best of her. It was a curse she had lived with as long as she could remember. Before the Voraks, she was prone to meltdowns at the slightest provocation. Now, in this world, her incessant fear and inability to stand up for herself was a serious liability.
She tried to keep her focus on Ruthie, on not setting her off while not backing down. It was a delicate balance. She knew that there was no way to get out of this, but she didn’t want to make it worse.
“You hear me, bitch?” Ruthie raised her eyebrows at Selah, waiting for any excuse to escalate the situation.
“I hear you, Ruthie. What the hell do you want me to do?”
Apparently Jenna needed a fight more than Ruthie, because she made the move, stepping in front of Ruthie and landing a punch squarely in Selah’s face. Selah stumbled back again, held her footing again and braced herself for the next hit.
“Die.”
Laughter exploded from the three girls as Selah cradled her jaw and stood, stunned, in front of the three of them. A few curious onlookers had gathered around, but most ignored the scene, not wanting to be sidetracked from their goal of getting through the water line as quickly as possible.
Selah wished she had more strength, more guts. She didn’t really fear the beating itself. She wished she could just lunge at them, any one of them or all of them. Not hold back. She didn’t need to win, she needed to earn their respect. If it was Kent or even Nieve, it would have been done already. But all she could do was stare, dumbstruck and holding on to her face as though it was going to fall off if she let go.
Maybe they will be satisfied now, she hoped.
Her hopes were dashed by another blow, and then another one. Seconds later, she was on the ground and they descended upon her. It was too late now. Any chance of holding her ground or at least putting up a decent fight was gone the minute she made contact with the dirt.
She felt a dull, throbbing ache near the back of her head, felt the sharp pain as Ruthie pummeled the same spot on her ribs over and over again. She felt certain that Sam’s blow had broken her nose. She tasted blood. Her vision of the girls and the crowd, which had grown larger and louder, was obscured by jagged flashes of light. And then there was darkness.
*
“Ho-ly shitbird.” A voice. She wasn’t sure who.
“She is fuuucked up.” Another voice, familiar.
“Jeezus, sis, they kicked the shit out of you.” Kent.
Selah slowly opened her eyes, a small crowd of faces hovering over her. She opened and closed her mouth. Her throat was on fire and the metallic taste of crusted blood made her want to retch. A third voice, from outside the circle, hushed the boys. They were Kent’s friends, Zack, Dave and another kid she didn’t know. The voice outside the circle belonged to Nat. She parted them and knelt down at her side.
“My God, oh Selah. You are hurt pretty bad.”
“Hmm,” was all she could manage.
“Kent, we need to get her back to the house.”
Selah didn’t really feel much pain besides her throat until the boys pulled her to her feet. . Her head, face, side and lower back all sung out in agony together.
“Shit. Let me back down.”
“No, let’s go. Suck it up, sis.”
They half-carried her back to the house. On the way, the boys relayed the highlights of her ass-kicking: Ruthie and her girls went full-on, punching her and kicking her until she passed out. Then they did it some more. No one stopped them.
“Oh, and a couple of them spit on you, too,” Zack added.
Chapter Three
Selah spent the next couple of days in bed feeling sorry for herself and fearing she would miss her opportunity to see Nieve. The caravan would come through town any day now, head north a little ways, then east and back down south to the Skirts. If she missed it, it would be another month before she got to see her sister’s face. She missed her, especially now. And she was angry at her for leaving. Nieve had been a buffer between Selah and the cruel realities of life in Limbo. But she couldn’t take it anymore, so she abandoned them.
Selah wondered what it was like behind the walls of the Community. She had heard stories, rumors of curfews, forced sterilizations, hours of backbreaking labor for the same meager rations that people in town had. But, it was safe. There was electricity and running water. Citizens had medical care, which Nieve would need with the baby. And they seemed to avoid the random Black Soldier raids and bombings that plagued the settlements.
Selah wondered how the Black Soldiers were able to live with themselves, how they were able to side with the aliens and wipe out their fellow man. Nat said it was fear and self-preservation. Kent believed it was mind control. Her father had maintained for years that the Voraks had been kidnapping men and installing chips in their brains in order to build an army without risking their own people. Some believed that the alien numbers were simply too low to wage physical combat against humans. Some claimed that they were physically inferior to humans, and so needed humans to fight against each other.
Still, there was no satisfactory explanation for the actions of the alien race that
shown up over fifteen years ago, supposedly in peace. They could have just used their weapons to wipe out humanity, so why they remained holed up in their dome or on their mother ship was a mystery.
What were they doing? Selah pondered this often, while it seemed that many people just accepted things as they were and didn’t question the Voraks motives, just wondered how to beat them, or how to live out their lives without crossing paths with them or the Black Soldiers.
On the third day, Nat helped Selah out of bed and to the kitchen table. Her ribs were still sore, and her head still throbbed, but the pain and swelling had gone down in her face, and her back no longer hurt. She slowly took her seat at the table with Kent. Nat sat down too, and Selah wondered what was going on. Kent had been sweet to her since the beating, checking in on her and bringing her water and snacks. Now he looked serious.
“Selah, I’m going to be leaving soon, you know that. I don’t know when they're going to show up, but when they do, I need to be ready."
The Civilian Resistance Army, a group of people who were willing to risk their lives to free humanity. It was a death sentence as far as she was concerned, and futile as well. Their father was proof of that.
“You could go with me...I guess. But you know I can’t keep an eye on you either way.”
“I’m not a fighter, Kent.”
“Obviously,” Nat piped in.
“Yeah, Nat, three against one, those aren’t good odds,” Selah snapped.
The combined heat of shame and anger spread across her cheeks. Her eyes began to water, another frustration she dealt with regularly. Why couldn’t she just hold it in?
Kent waved his hand to silence them. “Whatever, not everyone is a fighter. You don’t have to be.” Kent looked at her intently. “But you can be a survivor.”
“I am a survivor!”
Selah cringed when she heard how the words sounded coming out of her mouth. Like a child. She knew they thought she was weak, but she wasn’t. She had survived the death of her parents, the weeks wandering from camp to camp before they arrived in Limbo, the constant fear of attack, the abandonment of her sister, the barrage of abuse from the likes of Garrett and Ruthie. She had survived this, and she knew she could survive worse. She opened her mouth to say so, but was cut off by Nat.
“Yes, we all are. But you can’t survive on your own. Do you know why people like Garrett and Ruthie are always in groups? Because there is safety in numbers.”
“Okay, yeah, I get it. But I don’t have a gang to run around with, and I don’t want one.”
Nat continued patiently. “It’s time for you to find one. And it’s time to you to think about settling down with someone.” She stopped there, and let the dreaded words sink in to Selah’s head before she started again. “I’m not going to be around forever, either. I’m no pushover, but I can’t protect you from the likes of those people. Not on my own.”
Selah couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Nat, of all people, was telling her to sell out, to go running to one of the brutal, stinky men from town. The ones who leered, who called out obscenities to her while she walked to and from the well.
Manifest Destiny: Part One: Lost In Limbo Page 2
