New Kings of Tomorrow

by J. M. Clark

  Michelle spotted the table with three chairs surrounding it. She figured that area was for hosting company. The sofa with a coffee table in front of it was for dinner; she understood Sirus would come on the television each night before the evening meal. Right now, the screen displayed the “Please Wait” message. She knew that was normal.

  Making her way over to the nutrition dispensary, which she learned about in the child center, she touched the keypad and looked over the menu of things that could be ordered. Michelle gave a greedy grin while scrolling through the options. This was definitely an upgrade.

  In the child center, they were to eat what the watchers brought for them to eat. The food and drinks were always good; the children just lacked being able to make their own choice. Maybe things would not be as daunting as she thought. There were advantages to being considered an adult.

  After inputting her dinner for the night and the meals for the next day, she decided to finish unpacking things from her box. The central plaza, she was told, was a place she could meet people, and there was a Palace liaison there to show her all of the amenities of the Palace Program. After unpacking, she could make her way to the first floor to do some adventuring until dinner.

  As Michelle reached the bed and sat down, a loud knock came from across the room. Bang. Bang. Bang. The sound scared her, and she jumped up fast and stared at the door, puzzled at who could be knocking and for what reason. The sound came once more, but softer this time. Bang. Bang.

  Michelle walked over to the door and stared through the peephole. She didn’t recognize the person on the other side. Maybe it’s someone sent by one of the teachers, like a guide. She decided she was being cautious for no reason at all. Michelle twisted the lock on the door counterclockwise and turned the knob to greet the small man with dirty blonde hair, emphasis on dirty.

  The man’s head was tilted toward the ground, but he was gazing up at her with big brown focused eyes. The stranger raised one hand to wave hello, though he didn’t speak. Michelle opened the door fully and stepped back, allowing the man to walk inside. She assumed he was a teacher. Who else could it be? she thought to herself while stepping back to let him inside. She closed the door behind him and came back around to face him.

  “Hello. Are you one of the teachers? No offense to you, sir, I’m new here in the pods. I haven’t really had the chance to socialize yet.” Michelle smiled, hoping to make a good impression.

  “Yeah, uh, yes…I’m a teacher. What are you—I mean, are you liking your pod?”

  Michelle noticed the teacher lock the door behind his back. She was confused about why he would do it in that way, like he was trying to hide it from her.

  “I’m just now getting settled, but it’s a beautiful pod. I’m thankful Mother Earth has provided, and I’m lucky to be here. Thank you, sir.” She put her hand out to shake his. He hesitantly gripped her small hand with a weak wrist, almost as if he didn’t want to touch her. “Would you like to have a seat, sir? I could order us something to drink if that pleases you. I’ll just do that.”

  Michelle noticed that her voice sounded small and intimidated, the nervousness apparent in her words. She approached the nutrition dispensary in hopes of breaking the odd tension in the room that had suddenly become the backdrop of the brief conversation. She touched the keypad to order something, not because she was thirsty or because the teacher asked, but because she was jittery and didn’t know what else to do with her body.

  Before she could get a chance to scroll through the drink options, a powerful force slammed against her back, smashing her face against the dispenser. A blitz of pain came rushing to Michelle’s brain by way of a cracked eye socket. She could feel warm liquid pouring down the side of her face like water from a faucet. The stars were appearing and disappearing in her mind—she couldn’t see or think straight. Before she could react to what was happening, she was being held up against the nutrition dispensary, the man’s hand wrapped around her freshly brushed wheat-blonde hair.

  He reached under her skirt with his other hand, trying to touch her vagina, scratching and digging at her while using his body to pin her against the wall. Michelle’s legs were spaghetti. If not for his weight against her, she would have fallen to the ground. He got close to her ear, his breath hot and rancid against her cheek.

  “Listen to me, you little bitch. Don’t look at my face…don’t ask me who I am. And do not, whatever you do, little girl, do not scream. Do everything that I tell you to do, or I’ll kill you here and now. They won’t find your body for weeks.” The man licked her ear afterwards and inhaled deeply, trapping her scent within his nostrils. His breathing was rampant and heavy, his excitement obvious and terrifying.

  As Michelle’s confusion dimmed, she became clear on what the situation was. Why would a teacher be doing this? Her mind was spinning out of control, searching for answers. Why was this happening to her? She woke up this morning in the child center, surrounded by friends and loved ones. Now she was experiencing this nightmare.

  The man kept her hair balled up in his hand and rushed her to the bathroom, taking his hand from beneath her skirt and covering her mouth just in case she decided to scream. Michelle had no intentions of screaming; she would comply and do what he said. If this was a test or something that the adults did, then she would need to get used to it. She could only see out of one eye at this point, and blood was still streaming down her face, painting her yellow shirt with brownish red streaks.

  Upon reaching the bathroom, the man pushed her onto the floor. She collapsed to the ground, hair sticking to the blood all over her face. She did not look up at him; he’d told her not to do so, and she would not disobey. He sat on her back, putting all his weight on her to stop her from moving, and pulled her panties down around her ankles. He started to touch her…and to do whatever he desired. Still, she did not move. If this was a part of what the Palace Program was about, then she would not cause problems. As she understood things, relations exercises would not begin until around age twelve, depending on body development. Maybe she had that wrong.

  Michelle’s head lay on the once white linoleum, a puddle of rosy wetness creating a silhouette of the side of her face while the man did what he’d come to do with the bottom half of her body. It all lasted at least an hour or two. At one point, he even pulled something sharp out of his pocket and began cutting her hair. Her long, golden hair was splayed all over the floor. She had no idea why, but she was young and inexperienced. Maybe this would be explained later.

  At first, the pain she felt during the ordeal was enormous. She had never experienced agony like this, like any of this. Eventually, she stopped feeling the pain at all other than a smashing headache; everything below her waist went numb. Michelle only wanted the situation to be over. Her small body rocked back and forth on the bathroom floor as the man with the filthy blond hair did his business.

  He talked through much of it, calling her awful names she’d never heard before and warning her not to scream. She tried to tune it out, but there was something in his voice. Something familiar. It clicked then—she had seen this man before, on the elevator. Teacher Paul had introduced him to her not even four hours ago. She remembered looking down the hall as he’d waved to her. She was too far away to get a good look at his face then, and she had avoided eye contact with him in the elevator, keeping her head down the whole time.

  It was him though; she knew that now. This was not a teacher or anyone who should be in her room at all. Fear set in, and her heart began to speed up as she realized this was not something that was normal for adults. She understood that now.

  Michelle began to mumble. The man didn’t notice, or he didn’t care to notice, as she struggled to get the words out. Finally, she was able to take a deep breath and find her voice.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Dwight

  “I remember you! You’re Dwight! Why are you doing this, Dwight? Please stop! I want you to just stop…”

  He had ignor
ed the girl’s initial attempts to speak out, but this got Dwight’s attention. He stopped his tiresome pumping, got to his feet, and went to retrieve a pillow from the bed. When he returned a few seconds later, he didn’t say a word as he grabbed the brat by the arm, making her flip from her belly to her back. He grimaced at the mess that was now her face. No beautiful smile, no adorable freckles, no long flowing hair or magical green eyes. All the magic was gone from the one eye that could still open. The rest of her face was a mask of surrealistic carnage.

  The girl tried to smile. She tried to put on that fake smile he saw all the Palace-born folk wearing every day. A tooth was missing, but she didn’t seem to notice. Blood spilled out of her mouth with the smile.

  “Please, Dwight, let’s just stop. I’m so—”

  Dwight interrupted Michelle’s final plea by slamming the pillow over her face. He placed his hands on either side of it to make sure she could not turn her head left or right. Then he sat down on her stomach and applied more pressure. Her arms swung wildly at first, her legs kicking like she was riding a bicycle beneath him.

  “You shouldn’t have said my name…How dumb are you Palace-idiot kids?” Dwight said, keeping his voice low. “This is best for both of us.” Michelle’s body was so small underneath his own, she couldn’t move. Eventually she stopped trying. The legs stopped wheeling and the arms went limp. Her body deflated beneath his weight, all the wind and life escaping her. He felt like it should have taken longer to suffocate a person, like there should have been more fight in her. Oh well, he thought.

  Dwight didn’t want to look at her again. He left the pillow over her face and got to his feet. He’d made sure he didn’t get too loud during the entire ordeal, so there was no rush in cleaning himself up and making it back to his pod. Stepping over her body, he turned the sink on and washed his hands clean. He made sure his face was presentable, scrubbed a few small blood stains off his Steelers sweatshirt, and closed the bathroom door as he walked out into the living area of the pod.

  Walking past the bed, Dwight saw that the nightstand drawer was open and noticed a pretty pink brush inside. He reached in and grabbed the brush, stuck it in the back pocket of his khaki pants, and started toward the door. “Please Wait” was plastered on the TV screen. It was mocking him. Did the people inside see him? At this point, did he care?

  The people in the television know what I did, he said to himself. Dwight stopped in front of the troublesome device and thought for a second or two. He then raised his right leg and kicked the screen to pieces. Sparks and smoke hissed and popped from the hole where the screen once was. “Fuck you,” he mumbled. Dwight opened the door, looked both ways for any teachers, and exited the pod of Michelle, newest member of the Palace Program, now deceased. It was the first time in the twenty-year history of the program that a Palace member had committed murder.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Trevor

  Trevor walked out of the eighth-floor relaxation room, which he visited at least once a week to get a full-body massage and some words of encouragement. That was all he needed to relieve stress. He didn’t really believe in the stupid de-stressing nonsense anyway. Ya problems are still problems when ya get done bullshitting around. His father always said that. But a massage, was a massage, regardless of the reasoning.

  He rounded the corner of the spotless white hallway, making his way to the elevators. Lunch was calling his name, and he knew he had a delicious turkey club waiting for him in the nutrition dispensary. The walks throughout the Palace tended to be long and cumbersome. The elevators led up to the eighteenth floor, which was the top floor. Problem was though, there was only one set of elevators, so over the years, as the Palace grew and new additions were built, the walks from elevator to lectures, morning enrichments, and other activities had become quite the trek.

  Far up the corridor, Trevor heard the elevator bing and saw a teacher step out. They locked eyes as the teacher began jogging toward him. It caught Trevor off guard because the teachers never ran inside the Palace, no one did. He stopped moving and waited for the man to approach.

  Teacher Thomas was rarely seen. He monitored the floor that Trevor lived on and could be found there more times than not. They would talk from time to time about Thomas’s wife from the Old World, who didn’t make it to the Palace. Thomas would also listen to Trevor’s stories about Amy and how she was adjusting. He was one of the only teachers Trevor actually enjoyed speaking to.

  Once the teacher got to Trevor, he grabbed his arm, struggling to catch his breath as he bent over and put his other hand on his knee. Something was wrong, Trevor could see that.

  “Trevor, you have to get down to your pod. There is a message for you on the television. It’s Sirus.” Teacher Thomas struggled to get the words out while standing up straight and exhaling deeply.

  Trevor’s face transformed into puzzled bewilderment. He couldn’t understand why the coordinator of the Palace Program would want to talk to him.

  “Wait a minute…Sirus wants to speak to me? Why? We have no business with each other. I’ve been in this place for this long, and now he wants to talk to me? Are we getting out of here?” Are we being considered for the Greater Understanding Program? For a fleeting moment, he pictured finally being able to leave this place with Amy.

  “I believe it’s about your wife, sir. Please don’t be angry with me for telling you this. Just go down to your pod, and Sirus will come on the television to give you the information. Go now. Please, Trevor.” His face was distraught as he begged Trevor to go.

  For a man of his age, Trevor moved well. He took off running as fast as he could to the elevator, hoping to catch it before it moved on to another floor. Teacher Thomas said nothing else. He just waited back in the corridor as Trevor caught the elevator before it answered the call of a different Palace member. He jammed on the fifth-floor button at least ten times, not stopping until the door closed.

  When Trevor finally burst into his pod door, he threw the keys on the bed that he shared with his wife. He sat down on the couch, staring at the television. The message on the screen read “Please Wait.”

  “What the hell does Sirus have to say about my wife?” Trevor’s voice was loud and tense as he spoke out loud to no one. He could feel his anger building up, the adrenaline causing his body to shake. Slapping a hand down on the table, he screamed “C’mon and tell me what the hell is going on!” Nothing happened though. The screen didn’t change.

  He sat there, bouncing his foot up and down on the floor, a nervous tick he’d had since childhood. After three minutes or so, Trevor decided he was done waiting and would go down to the courtyard and check on his wife himself. Whatever Sirus needed to say to him could wait until he came back. He got up, got the keys off the bed, and started toward the door. Then it happened.

  Someone popped up on the screen, but it wasn’t Sirus.

  “Hello, Trevor. I want to first say that I’m sorry we are meeting under these circumstances. Would you please have a seat?” The man on the screen had medium-length brown hair pulled up into a bun on his head. He had a clean-cut look and the bluest eyes Trevor had ever seen. Even on camera, they were shockingly blue. Trevor was sure he had never seen this gentleman.

  After spending twenty years of his life in the Palace with the same people, it was easy for Trevor to remember faces, and this one was new. The man was not smiling, like so many in this facility tended to always be doing. His face was serious, and he looked as though he had something important to say.

  Trevor made his way back to the white love seat and sat down, waiting for the stranger to begin speaking again. How did he know I was standing? Can he see me? Trevor wanted to voice his questions out loud, but he refrained for the moment. First things first.

  “I want to let you know that I’m working with the government, or what you now know as the Order. My name is not important, so let’s not bother. I’m contacting you to let you know about an event that occurred today with your wife,
Amy, in the courtyard of the Palace. I’m not one for beating around the bush, so I’ll just say it.” Trevor’s body went stiff as he waited for the words to come from the stranger in the television.

  “Trevor, today in the courtyard we were alerted to the passing of your wife, Amy. She collapsed from a heart attack while walking the trail with a few others. Everyone in the area has already been questioned by teachers and other high-ranking members in the Order. They all say the same thing. Amy grabbed her chest and collapsed to the ground, where she kicked and screamed until her body went limp. No one had the ability to help her, so all of her friends waited until medical showed up. By then it was too late…” The stranger sounded like he was delivering lines for a TV show rather than telling a man he’d just lost the most important person in his life. Lack of empathy came to mind, but this didn’t surprise Trevor. He was acquainted with this personality type.

  Trevor had already checked out of the conversation. Every sound coming from the box in the wall sounded like jumbled nonsense. He saw red, and his mind became a puzzle that was impossible to put together. There was no anger though. He was calm as he just sat there.

  At some point, the man went away and the screen went black, replaced by the normal message: “Please Wait.” Trevor did just that. He sat there on the white love seat and waited for something to change. Waited for Amy to come walking into the pod.

  That didn’t happen though. No one came into the pod. No one even came knocking on the door. Trevor likely would not have heard or answered even if they did. Sirus eventually came onto the television to have dinner with every Palace member, as he did every night.

  Trevor heard the prayer, but it sounded as though it were being said backwards, like those devil songs from different bands he and his buddies listened to in the Old World. Judas Priest had a song that seemed to tell fans to shoot themselves if you played the record backwards. Sirus sounded that way to him. Trevor didn’t care about the Order, Sirus, the teachers, or the other ninety-nine point nine percent of the people in the Palace. His anger, hurt, and confusion were crippling.