Autonomy: a novel

by A. R. Braun

  Officer Johnson laughed again. “What, Baptists? I recognize this house. The way the church in America is … was, only like two percent of them were truly saved and went up in the rapture. Yeah, your parents are at the camp.”

  Oh my God! They’re alive!

  Brodie said, “Chin up. We expect you to be better than your folks.”

  Johnson pulled his walkie talkie free of the restraint. “Want me to call you a cab to the tattoo parlor?”

  “Is that where people get the implant?” Scout asked.

  Johnson chuckled. “You betcha. Once a person starts marking up their body, they never stop.”

  Scout’s mind spun with horror. Let them take you to your parents. But all that would come out was, “I’ll walk.”

  Johnson clipped his walkie-talkie. He nodded toward the driveway. “How do ya like the new police vehicles?” He chuckled. “We haven’t got the order from the chancellor to use the guillotines yet, but when we do …” He dragged his finger across his neck and made a tearing sound with his throat. “Heh-heh-heh-heh.”

  Brodie giggled. “Can’t wait.”

  “We’ve got the army trucks I can radio to come pick up the people refusing the chip,” Johnson added, “but most of ‘em have already been hauled away, the sacks of shit.”

  Scout wiped her face as if to purge it from the officers’ foolishness. “Who is this chancellor, anyway?”

  “His highness, Mr. Walter Emmett Velvet,” Johnson answered with a sly grin. “Simply the best ruler earth has ever had. His first, middle and last name are all six letters: six-six-six. That’s the code for the RFID chip, too. You can turn on the TV and check him out. He’s cured diseases and old age, not to mention solving world hunger.”

  Wonderful. One thing he hasn’t solved: the crisis of the soul.

  “I’ll turn on the television and watch him.”

  Johnson nodded. “I think you’ll be impressed. Well, you get that RFID chip soon now, or we’ll have to haul you in.”

  Scout stared at him.

  “And get these birds out of here!” Brodie added.

  “Bye now,” he said.

  Johnson and Brodie headed to their execution vehicles. Abruptly, he stopped, backtracked and peeked his head back in. “Don’t tell me you didn’t see this coming. The US Department of Defense getting interested in the RFID chip in 2007, and the last two presidents passing bills into laws that were unconstitutional? What a riot! Satanic miracles, they were.”

  He nodded, seemingly for no reason. “Well, good day.”

  With that he turned and was gone.

  Now slicked with sweat, Scout furrowed her brow at the birds crashing into shit, then walked over and turned on the air-conditioner. She plopped down in her dad’s easy chair she never got to sit in. She grabbed the dufus stick and turned the television on.

  A thin man with black hair stood in front of a podium. His kind face and voice reminded her of certain non-fire-and-brimstone pastors that were all warm fuzzies and hugs. He was every town’s college graduate at the top of his class, the ever-present student body president and do-gooder.

  “So that begs the question, why would a loving God force us into a life of misery? Because He isn’t loving, isn’t kind, throws more pain at us than we can tolerate and expects us to suck it up while the rich get richer, the poor get poorer and the hell with the unlucky ones who have to suffer.

  “Friends, there’s a better way.”

  Scout was seduced by his too-kind voice. Velvet could’ve been her father’s best friend, someone to have over to the house for shits and giggles, a good man who’d watch out for Scout to make sure no one fucked with her. And after what God had allowed her to go through with Mack and Lelila, didn’t she agree with Velvet’s statement? Wouldn’t it be easier to—?

  A car backfiring on the street pulled her from the trance she’d been lulled into, or was it a gun blast? Scout turned off the TV and bit her nails. What in the world would she do now? She bounded up and paced the room, ducked for a bird.

  It was true: out of the kidnapping and into a captivity worse than her vilest nightmare.

  I wish I’d never been born.

  Scout let out a heavy sigh and crept to the window to see where the sound had come from.

  A man with a medium build held a smoking gun. He stood over a businessman, then tore his wallet out of his pocket and went through the bills. He must’ve been psychic, because he looked at the window. Scout shut the curtains.

  Good God, what am I gonna do? It’s a jungle out there!

  After a few minutes, she parted the curtains again. A middle-aged woman looking like an ewok with short hair and a short, fat build shuffled along with her wiener dog. But she wasn’t walking it, she held it in her arms and kissed it … on the mouth. And not just little pecks, but making out with it.

  I’ve stepped into some shit here.

  Scout waited for a few minutes and parted the curtains again. A man obviously in middle age by his bald head and paunch held hands with an underage girl. She looked as if she were ten or eleven. At first, Scout thought he was taking a walk with his daughter, but then they cut through her yard and she saw the sun gleam off of their wedding rings … that’s right, wedding rings. As he bent down to kiss her on the mouth, Scout, filled with horror, closed the curtains.

  Her dad’s computer came on by itself: “If gays are allowed to marry, beloved,” a rotund, brown-haired pastor with a bigger-than-average nose from one of the shows her dad had recorded from the Web said, “then it only stands to reason that someday, a man will be able to marry his pet, or a child. We must stand against this as God’s chosen.”

  Scout walked over and pulled the plug on the thing. She wasn’t homophobic. It just hadn’t been right for Lelila and Muffy to force something on her that she didn’t prefer. Yet what had happened with the computer had to have been an act of God….

  So scared she didn’t know what to do, Scout fell to her knees and wept. “Lord, I’m sorry I was planning on leaving the church when I went to college! Maybe I deserved that captivity! Strengthen me now and tell me what I should do.” She bawled.

  Certain church members had told her God spoke to them directly. Scout knew what that was: schizophrenia. The Lord didn’t do that to her; she was compelled by an overwhelming urge to go to the camps, however. Since her parents waited for her there, why put it off?

  But they’ll kill us.

  “They’re gonna get me anyway,” she told the room as she stood. “Might as well get it over with.”

  ***

  Scout found a halter top and short-shorts in her room. It was too hot to be concerned about looking modest. She grabbed her purse. Before she went to the camp, she needed to buy some insulin. And why not take Dad’s car? She walked through the kitchen, leaving the air on because she probably wouldn’t be back, her skin dried of the sweat. Luckily, her dad had the new kind of vehicle where all one had to do was push a button to start it, and protected in the garage, it stood unlocked.

  Then she remembered the cabbie. He wouldn’t take her home because she didn’t have the chip. Then how in the fuck am I supposed to get my insulin? She realized with terror that Mack had bought her medicine because he’d had the chip. She almost wished she were back in their bonds now … almost. She’d have to steal it. She needed one more fix before going to the camps, where they’d probably deny her the insulin.

  For a few minutes she sat behind the wheel with the A/C pouring out, enjoying the new car smell, but also wondering if she should give in to the Antichrist’s reign. That’s what he was, not just a “chancellor” as they called him. She’d get her medicine and be able to live—but she remembered from Bible study she’d also end up in the lake of fire forever. And who the hell wants to be neighbors to people marrying children and dogs? That was legal now, she knew. She couldn’t go fight the guy and tell him to get his paws off that little girl. The execution vehicle would show up and take his side.

  What a world I
graduated into.

  She fired up the car and headed to the pharmacy.

  ***

  Since when did the pharmacy play Slayer instead of Muzak on the speaker system? She hurried past what was now the majority: weird, gothic people; shaven-headed young men and women; gangbangers waving guns; naked women; a couple men with little girls, a woman with a little boy, a man with a little boy and a woman with a little girl. Scout grabbed the insulin pen and supplies, making sure no one saw her.

  A man with a hook nose stepped to the end of the aisle and eyeballed her. He started to undo his raincoat. Scout shielded her eyes. After a few seconds, she peeked through her fingers and he was gone. She stuck the supplies in her purse. She hurried toward the door.

  “Miss!” a burly, shaven-headed man rushed her way.

  She ran for the car as if she was at a track meet.

  “You need to pay for that! Denise, call the police!”

  Scout pushed the button and roared out of the parking lot, bashing into a white luxury car’s fender, but she gave the vehicle a wide berth and kept going. In the rear-view mirror, she spotted the man chasing her. He gave up and whipped out his cell phone.

  Oh God, he got the license plate number.

  She sped down a couple of streets, not taking turns wisely and lucky she didn’t kill herself in an accident. Scout pulled into an empty alley and broke out the insulin pen. She injected the medicine into her arm.

  Sweet relief.

  Until she saw the cherries in the rearview: an execution vehicle.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  An Army truck pulled in ahead of Scout. The sun came out from behind a cloud and blinded her, so she put the visor down. As if that’s going to help anything. The sun had been bothering her since she’d come out of the dungeon. This was no different.

  Officer Johnson came to her window with a drawn pistol. “Freeze!” Then he chuckled. “I knew I’d get you. Think you can trick me that you’re gettin’ the chip? Thought I’d be personable and give you a chance to go to the tattoo parlor—the chancellor requires it—but I knew you wouldn’t. It was in your eyes.” He looked at the soldiers jogging toward Scout’s car. “Get out of the vehicle, kid.”

  Brodie joined him. “Knew that bitch was lyin’!”

  Johnson belly-laughed. “Heh.”

  Scout stuffed the insulin pen into her pocket and picked up the purse with the supplies shoved inside. Sighing, she opened the door and got out.

  At least I’m gonna see my parents.

  A short-and-stocky dark-haired man in fatigues eyeballed her. “I’d like to give her a go in the back of the truck.”

  “Go ahead.” Johnson snorted.

  Scout’s stomach sank.

  Here we go again.

  “Give me the diabetic supplies and put your hands on the car!” Johnson said.

  “No!” Scout’s fury overwhelmed her. Not only did they want her insulin, but also they wished to rape her like Mack and Lelila had. “I need that medicine!”

  Officer Johnson turned her around with brute force. “I said hands on the goddamn car, you fucking cunt! You’re on the chancellor’s dime now!” He intruded into her pocket and took the insulin pen. He also snatched her purse and plucked out the insulin reserves.

  “You bastard!”

  Johnson slapped the cuffs on her, then pulled her up by her hair and handed her over to the soldier. A thin army man with blond hair stubble walked over and stood by the other. “Here you go,” Johnson said. “She doesn’t have the RFID chip.”

  “Come on, little missy,” the first soldier said. “We’ll show you a good time.” He grabbed her arm.

  The blond soldier grabbed her other arm.

  “Let me go, you fucking cocksuckers! You sell-out-to-the-beast pieces of shit!” Scout thrashed and flailed.

  “Woo!” the blond man said. “We’ve got a live one!”

  “Love those feisty redheads,” the dark-haired soldier spat.

  Scout bawled. They weren’t going to give her insulin in the death camp, so she wouldn’t last long.

  The dark-haired soldier put his arm around her waist as the blond soldier opened up the back of the truck and slid the door open. Inside, all manner of respectable people whimpered, handcuffed and sitting on two built-in benches across from each other like in a paddy wagon. There were businesspeople, metalheads with Christian metal shirts, rappers with Christian rap shirts and children. They slammed her into a seat.

  “Guess we can’t rape her with a truck full of people,” the dark-haired soldier offered. “Maybe later.”

  The blond soldier chuckled and shut them in. Before he did, Scout had said, “You’ll rot in the lake of fire, you pieces of garbage!” Her dig brought agreements from the rest of the passengers.

  “You tell ‘em!” what sounded like a young man said.

  The back of the truck was pitch dark. The vehicle took off.

  “Oh God,” Scout said, “I can’t take this.”

  “We’re going to glory, miss,” a man that sounded like a businessman added. “I’ve got children on board. How do you think I feel?”

  “Daddy, I’m afraid,” a little girl whined.

  Oh God, children. How can they do this?

  A short ride out of town and they were at the camp.

  ***

  “Come on, you God-dog worshipers,” the blond man said. Then he and his partner hauled the passengers out.

  A brigadier general approached them at the gate. A tall iron fence made of black triangles spotlighted a sign that said: DO NOT TOUCH THE FENCE. YOU WILL BE ELECTROCUTED. Inside, people walked desultory around tents, soldiers stopping their patrol every once and again to shove a rifle into the prisoners’ sides, then cuss them out.

  “Surrender all ID and all personal possessions,” the general commanded, an old man with a haggard face and dull eyes. “Hand over all wallets, purses, watches, cell phones, weapons and keys—everything but the clothes on your back and shoes.”

  This can’t be happening! They’re treating us like the Jews in Nazi Germany! This has got to be a nightmare. Any minute now, I’ll wake up safe in my parents’ house.

  Everyone handed their possessions over except the metalhead and the rapper, who were beaten with the butts of rifles. A cordon of soldiers bore rule over them now. Scout didn’t want to be attacked, so she handed over her keys, her necklace and the watch she’d stopped by her room to pick up at her mom and dad’s house.

  The soldiers opened the gate and they were shoved inside.

  Scout almost fell, tripping over her feet. “You can’t treat us like this! We’re human beings!”

  “You’re at the altar of dog,” the blond soldier cried in her face. “You’re sewer waste to us!”

  Soldiers again shoved her forward.

  “Find an empty tent and shut your mouths,” the general yelled from the other side of the gate. “If you should change your mind and decided to get the RFID chip, you’ll be let out into a higher quality of life. If not, you cannot eat or have any privileges. Anyone complaining will be beaten.” The general pinned Scout with his eyes. “That includes you, missy.”

  Oh shit. I am so screwed. Maybe I can tunnel out of here.

  The general and the bulk of the soldiers left, leaving only the armed army men guarding the camp. The place went on for miles. Tents stood as far as the eye could see in two rows. The summer heat bore down on her, and it would offer no relief. Scout started walking with the rest of the group, who’d become quiet.

  After about a hundred paces, a white building reared its ugly head with a huge white sign in black letters saying: SHOWERS.

  Oh God, will they gas us like the Nazis did to the Jews?

  “Scout?” asked a man from behind her back. She recognized the voice.

  It was her dad.

  She wheeled on him and saw him standing before her, his eyes getting misty, her mother coming out of a small tent. She became goggle-eyed.

  “Scout,” she cried.


  She ran to her parents, then bear-hugged them. Tears leaked out of all their eyes. Her mom and dad covered her with kisses.

  “Oh Lord,” her mother cried. “I thought I’d never see you again!”

  Scout didn’t let go. “Oh my momma and papa! Thank God!” As she pulled away from them, she noticed they were emaciated. Their hair had dried out and they’d lost weight, except for their bellies, which bulged out more than usual.

  “All right, break it up, dogs,” a soldier cried, stepping into their reunion with his gun trained on them. He pointed at Scout with the barrel. “She starts work detail tomorrow. Take her inside and visit with her there.”

  Her mom and dad put their hands on her back and guided her inside.

  ***

  Scout’s mind lurched at the interior. Just a dirt floor with two sleeping bags. It was a bit cooler in there, but not much. She’d sweat to death before she starved. And what about critters? They could come in anytime they wanted. She tried to shun this strain of thought.

  Somebody hit her in the back with something and knocked her onto her knees. She turned and saw her squalid sleeping bag. To say it was dirty would’ve been an understatement. Maybe her parents washed theirs. But in what, puddles?

  “There’s your bed, missy,” the bald soldier from before barked while laughing. He left through the slit, the opening of the tent.

  “You can’t treat my daughter like that,” her dad yelled. He ran after him.

  The soldier put the barrel in his face. “Want me to blow your head off, dog-worshiper?” he yelled.

  Her dad froze.

  “He’s not a dog,” Scout’s mother said. “He’s God, and you’ll burn for rejecting Him.”

  The soldier turned the stock around in a flash and shoved the butt into her dad’s stomach. Her father made an oomph sound and doubled-over.

  “Dad!” Scout ran to him and rubbed his back.

  “At least we get to eat, bitch,” the soldier snapped at Scout’s mother.