Salvage
Content
Salvage
The rag-clothed boys were laughing gleefully as they huddled around
the trembling form of the wiry ink haired youth who they had shoved to the
muck-covered sidewalk. “You can’t escape us now, mouse,” The eldest boy
crouched near to the quivering figure.
Other members of the gang shot glares at passing adults, clad in
military color-coded outfits, preventing intervention. The group’s victim turn
his face slightly upwards, blood oozing from his grazed cheek. His dusky
russet orbs flitted around the legs surrounding him, searching for an opening.
The leader’s dusty boot slammed down on the boy’s hand.
“We should tear your creepy fucking eyes out,” He growled as the
smaller boy cried out in agony. The follower’s gave an approving roar.
“Hey, hey!” A deep rumbling voice silenced the mob and they turned
toward a tall navy clad man approaching them. The beaten teenager in the
center of the gathering stiffened. The ration tickets he had snatched from a
small grocer earlier seemed to burn in the pocket of his shredded jeans.
The gang’s leader shifted away from the boy quickly tossing his hands
in the air half-heartedly. “What’s the problem, Officer? We were just playing
with Mouse here,” he protested with feigned innocence, invoking snickers
from the other boys. The Officer began to wedge himself in-between the
clump of younger males to peer at the scene.
The boy on the ground had turned his head so his face was pressed to
the pavement again, hiding his ever-moving eyes. His palms lay flatly on the
surface. Concerned, the Officer grunted and reached a hand towards him.
In an instant, the young man had leapt to his feet and darted from the
scene, knocking aside several of the boys who, in their surprise, were caught
off-guard. Irritated shouts resounded from the crowd, including from the
Officer, who initially began to chase after the youth. However, the
rambunctious delinquents behind him quickly recaptured his attention. He
turned his back to the fleet-footed teenager in difference for the easier
targets near him.
The door to the small hovel on the Northwest edge of Central Belmont
met the doorframe with crushing force causing the thin walls to shake. The
elderly woman who lived there, Anya, peered into the dim entryway and
called out for her grandson, “Elias?”
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The fourteen-year-old in question paused briefly as he caught his
breath and straightened his back. Anya hissed in disapproval when the
adolescent appeared in the kitchen. The flesh on the right side of his face
was ravaged, and his left hand swollen scarlet. She threw her dishtowel into
the sink.
“Young man!” She reprimanded as Eli’s good hand retrieved that day’s
harvest. He placed the stack of ration cards upon the rickety table in the
middle of the room. The old woman’s calloused, bony hand rose in the air for
a moment but only hovered as the boy casually turned his face from her as if
expecting to be struck. “It seems you’ve already been through enough
today,” The woman muttered and pointed toward one of the wooden chairs,
prompting her grandson to sit.
Sweeping her wispy brown hair upwards, Anya pulled out a woven
basket full of half-used medical supplies. “I told you I’d stop when I could get
actual work, Gran. So, this is the last time, and I went through a lot to get it.
Please, just use ‘em,” Eli pleaded with the woman as she rubbed the right
side of his face gingerly with a disinfectant soaked cloth.
She pulled away from the boy and stared at him with weary chestnut
eyes. Finally, she heaved a great sigh. “Yes, tomorrow you’ll be fifteen. You’ll
be assigned a proper job, make a proper living. Understand me, boy?” She
affectionately tapped his chin. When he nodded seriously, she proceeded to
bind his wretched hand in beige bandages.
The door moaned once more as the third member of the household
entered. “I’m home,” A tired yet firm voice floated into the small kitchen.
The serious woman replied to her husband wearily as she finally
knotted the wrap, causing Eli to wriggle a bit in discomfort at the tightness. A
tall man with pepper gray hair clomped into the room, decked in a bright
yellow construction worker’s uniform. He smiled wryly as he looked upon his
wife and grandchild, the creases on his sunburnt face folding with purpose.
“The Officers didn’t catch you, did they?”
“No,” Eli responded hesitantly, “Just some neighborhood kids.” He
peered down at his worn shoes embarrassed. The other boys who lived on
the Northwest edge of the city called him Mouse, because he was skittish
and lanky. The unbreakable mannerism that he was afflicted with – nervous
flighty eyes – only worsened the situation. The ink-haired youth think himself
misunderstood, however. The other children had seen right through Eli. He
knew himself that he was erratic, dishonest, and a coward.
The old man, Jerod, walked toward the table and flipped through the
stack of ration cards. His grandson had resulted to thievery to help support
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the family years ago. Eli’s defense was that it wasn’t his fault that the
government didn’t provide children with decent work. And Jerod couldn’t
deny that the small family needed the extra income. So, despite Anya’s
disapproval, he did not scold the child.
He could feel the sting of the woman’s glare now as he pocketed the
tickets. “At least,” Jerod reconciled, “This will be the last time. Tomorrow, Eli
becomes a man.” One of his large rough hands patted the adolescent’s
gaunt shoulder. A thin smile came to Eli’s face but he could not meet his
grandfather’s eyes.
The boy was ashamed of his reputation as a coward, because he
idolized Jerod. The man was brave. When Eli’s parents perished in The
Beginning, the man had set out from Chicago as a pioneer to help build the
center of the new government that sprung from the ruins of Mid-Western
America. Seemingly fearless, he supported his young grandson and wife as
one of the first settlers of Central Belmont. Never had Eli seen his
grandfather waver, in principle or courage.
Now on the cusp of adulthood, he had grown to be the exact opposite
of Jerod. At the same time, he wondered would live his life any differently. His
actions always seemed correct in his eyes. His cowardice and flightiness
were survival mechanisms. His criminal occupation supported his worn and
worried grandparents. No, he regretted nothing.
Eli cringed as he tried to push himself through the crowd of teenagersthose born on the same day as he was- at the front of the Service Center.
Two gray clad officials peered over the crowd on a platform muttering to
each other between calling names, and carefully keeping records on their
Tablets. Ah, what an easy life military office types like them must have. The
young man snorted in disdain, as he knew he would never have a leisurely
job like that, for he never went to supposedly mandated Military school. His
absence, due to his self-appointed job as a thief, assured that he would be
toiling the rest of his life away doing hard labor. But it would bring in ration
tickets, legally.
“Yvette Dunton.”
A girl with cropped, dull blonde hair elbowed past Eli, turning back for a
second to give him a glare. An uneasy sigh crossed his lips at the unfriendly
treatment he was so used to. One of his scurrying eyes followed the tall
blonde as she approached the platform, and the female official handed her a
white coat. She was to become a doctor, or scientist of some sort. A Medic,
most likely. Another comparatively privileged lifestyle.
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“Elias Caverly,” The gray suited man hollered. The boy slipped through
the mass of people, trying to make use of my thin frame.
When the scruffy ink-haired youth reached front of the crowd, the
official curled his lip at him. He twisted around and pulled a black uniform
from the colorful stack of fabric behind him. The clothing was quickly
discarded into Eli’s outstretched hands. “What’s this?” The boy protested as
the man stared over him in dismissal.
Loud chattering spread throughout the young adults gathered behind
him. Black was not one of the occupational uniforms they handed out to the
adolescents entering the workforce. In fact, black was an outcast’s color.
Black meant“We’re starting to put Civs on Scavenging duty,” The woman official
announced to a bewildered Eli, quieting the crowd, “There’s too high demand
for us to just make criminals do it anymore. If you dislike this outcome, you
have only yourself to blame, young man. And that goes to the rest of you
too. Your safety is dependent on Belmont, and Belmont is dependent on your
contributions. So, if you prove to be inept, can you blame us for using you in
such a manner?” A few grumbles of contempt erupted from the youths with a
few more gasps. Anxious members of the group wailed over the possibility of
succumbing to the fate that Eli Caverly had.
“Well, Scavenger, off you go,” The male official waved Eli away
aggressively.
Dread pooled in the pit of Eli’s stomach as he stared at the towering
gate. Had some cosmic force come to pay him for his past misdeeds? The
government didn’t know of them, but had still treated him like a criminal.
It seemed that the other fifteen-year-olds who shared his birthday had
lucked out, and considered of enough worth to be spared from… the Outside.
The oversized ebony-dyed suit he received merely clung to the few
juxtaposed muscles his thin body maintained, making him feel even more
vulnerable than before.
Behind him, a tall woman with thick auburn hair and a handsome face
wearing a more fitted uniform of the same hue slapped him on the back.
“Ready, rookie?”
A few other rough characters of varying ages milled around; the other
members of his Scavenging team. Though trying his best to keep his cool,
the teenager stuttered when he spoke to Vinni, the leader of this fatal
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expedition. “W-won’t we even get weapons or something to protect
ourselves with?”
“Heh,” The lady chuckled at the boy’s uncertainty, “The officials do
that much at least. But we don’t go giving rookies something like that,
‘specially not the first day.”
“But-” Eli began to refute the woman before she held up one of her
large hands. With the other, she waved over another member of the team. A
young man with burnished skin the shade of coffee beans approached and
gazing upon the obviously anxious newcomer grinned revealing crooked
pearly teeth.
“Troy here, will stick with ya. He’s all the firepower you’ll need,” Vinni
pointed to the man with one thumb, and Troy rose the crossbow in his hand
as if to reassure the boy. Vinni paused as she began to turn away, giving the
teenager a wolfish smile, “At least, you better hope so.”
A visible shudder passed through Eli as the woman walked away.
“Don’t worry. She’s just toying with you, kid. The places where we scavenge
are usually clean, thanks to the Patrols and Hunters,” Troy gave the youth a
kind squeeze on the shoulder.
Eli jerked away, cursing fate, angered with the world. He wanted to be
brave, like his grandfather. He wanted to be a man instead of a Mouse; the
name that the neighborhood children had burdened him with. But despite all
that he desired, there was one thing that Eli longed for so much that he
couldn’t bare it; to survive.
“It’s not fair,” The dark man beside the boy muttered watching him
with a sorrowful stare as his wiry frame began to tremble in despair, “Kids…
don’t deserve this. To be treated like rats like us.”
Suddenly, the adolescent threw his head back in a fit of bitter laughter,
his inky locks disheveled at the sudden motion. “A rat… is a promotion from
Mouse, right?” He muttered, more to himself than to Troy.
The scraps of metal that Eli had been sawing away from ruined
buildings and cars often tore at the skin on his hands. He pursed his lips,
resenting the government’s neglectfulness to not even give the so-called
rats of the Scavenging team work-gloves. He turned his face toward the
cloud-riddled sky.
“Hey,” Troy, who was stacking the metal pieces in a wheelbarrow
behind Eli called out, “This is no time for cloud watching, kid.” An
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uncharacteristic smile formed on the teenager’s face and he chuckled before
giving the man a light apology, soon returning to his task despite his raw
palms.
Two weeks had passed since Eli became a Scavenger. The unease had
not disappeared completely, but Troy’s words had proved true. The team had
not chanced upon danger in their ventures, and Eli found he enjoyed
exploring the ruins of the society that existed before The Beginning. There
were sights, sounds, and visions abandoned by the militaristic entity that
Belmont had begun. When searching for the materials the government
needed, he came upon so many objects and visions that no one would
salvage.
The fruits of the labor before the disease; art, music, and history.
Despite Eli’s unwillingness to be here, he began truly found worth in these
human vestiges, and a strange sense of honor in that he may be the only
one to value these sentiments, that in these dark days, most considered
frivolous.
Sensing that the boy was lost in thought once more, Troy gave him a
light push. “You’re not getting bored with the job, are you?” He chortled,
optimistic as usual, “You can always become a Hunter, you know. They get
way better benefits.”
Eli narrowed his eyes at the older man’s ridiculous suggestion causing
him to guffaw louder than before. “I still can’t get over those eyes.”
Instead of taking offense, Eli just exhaled peacefully. While others
typically found the teenager’s gaze unbearably calculating and- for no better
word- creepy, Troy regarded the mannerism with amusement. It was
refreshing for the boy, and for the first time, he felt as if he had formed a
friendship.
Troy quieted down, kneeling beside his companion and stifling a yawn.
“Ever wonder what the point of all this is?”
“Do you mean like life and stuff?”
“No, I’m not into deep shit like that,” Troy snorted, “I meant, we’ve
been collecting all this junk, and heaping it in that massive pile by the rail
yard. There’s enough there to build a few skyscrapers, I swear. But still they
keep sending more kids like you, because of demand issues?”
“Oh,” Eli responded gloomily, he was already aware of this disturbing
trend, “Well, think about it, it’s easier to scavenge metal than food rations.”
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The older man perked up at the youth’s bitter tone. “What do you
mean?”
“Every day, Central Belmont receives an influx of refugees. They pat
themselves on the back for taking in all the uninfected survivors, but… it’s
impossible. There simply isn’t enough food. So, take the rats like us.
Criminals and worthless Civs like me, we should just stay Outside until we
die, so that Belmont can create a utopia,” Eli finished his rant, and stood up,
“Well, that’s my theory anyway.”
Troy had cast his daze to the rubble-coated ground. When he glanced
up, his toothy grin had reappeared. “You’re pretty damn smart,” He praised
Eli and stretched outwards, “How’d you get stuck out here?”
“Never showed up for school, I guess,” The boy responded throwing
the worn saw on top of the assortment of scraps they’d collected.
Troy made a sound of disgruntlement, “That was pretty fucking stupid,
huh?”
“Guess so.”
The two basked in a moment of silence underneath the endless silver
sky of the Outside. “Do you want to be a Hunter, Troy?” Eli queried with a
sudden desire to understand the man before him. A man who always smiled
and kept his calm, despite the injustice and horror that surrounded him. Was
this the legendary nonchalance that Hunters possessed?
“I will be, someday,” He responded, “After I serve my time here and
have some sort of freedom like you. Assuming I don’t die like you say they
want me to.”
Eli opened his mouth but was unsure of what to say. Troy just shook his
head at the boy with an expression of melancholy.
A sudden shriek of agony pierced the atmosphere from somewhere
further in the ruins of the small town they were tearing apart. Eli deftly took
in his surrounding, finding that all the members of his scavenging team were
safely nearby. Everyone had halted. Vinni ordered everyone to gather up
their harvest for the day and make a hasty retreat back to the security of the
city walls.
Eli began to take hold of the wheelbarrow’s handles but soon noticed
that Troy was no longer beside him. He turned around to find Troy jogging
down the street towards the desperate cries. No one else had noticed as the
two young men were behind the rest of the group. Hesitantly, Eli hollered for
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his friend but he continued onwards. The boy released his hold and began to
dash after the careless man.
“Troy, wait!” He followed, tightening the cloth belt that held his
oversized trousers to his thin hips. Soon he disappeared over a steep hill in
the road. A swarm of obsidian-feathered birds croaking ominously inhabited
the sky ahead. As Eli reached the peak of the slope, he froze aghast at the
sight below.
Here, man had carved an enormous pit from the earth. Overflowing
from this manufactured hole were wretched bodies, a sea of loss and
pestilence. Some still moved. Yes, this was the disease. The zombies that
wriggled between the peaceful dead were the victims of Thanasis, which
ravaged this country when Eli was still an innocent child. A child with steady
eyes.
A young girl had fallen in the tides of the dead. Her body had not been
completely taken by the disease yet, but she was lost to it. Some of the
diseased had clung to her legs and were devouring her lower half with
sickening zealousness. The teenager couldn’t bare it. Troy had already
rushed to the side of the trench and clutched the girls pale hands. He gasped
in effort as he tried to pull what remained of her from the grip of the
infected. There were simply too many, the predators gathered to secure their
prey. The strength of their numbers soon overwhelmed Troy and he was
slipping with the dying girl into the mass grave.
He would not release the crying damsel, even then. His distressed gaze
landed on the terrorized boy and his hand struggled out toward him. “Eli!”
Eli felt his desire to survive crushing him, making even breathing a
struggle. Every fiber of his being urged him to run to the safety of the walls.
In his mind, he could see himself grasping Troy, only to be dragged into the
waves, devoured forevermore. “Let go!” Eli screamed, voice echoing off the
ruins surrounding them. This used to be a town, now it is hell.
A snarl erupted from Troy as he looked at Eli with pity. The boy did not
understand this man. Did he not have the will to live? This girl… she was lost
already. She would never survive. What mercy could they offer her? And how
could it be worth it, if they did not continue to exist?
The dark-skinned man redoubled his efforts, evidently struggling. It
was all as futile as Eli thought. He was soon perilously close to the edge.
The boy could not stand to watch this. He turned and fled the scene,
tripping on his way down. As his body met the pavement painfully, tumbling
until the ground evened out, he thought he could hear Troy howl. Tears
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slipped down his face for the first time since his parents met the same fate
before his eyes. Since then those eyes cannot rest.
“Are you sure about this?” The young woman, Marci, dusted her gray
uniform off. Ever since the government started assigning Civs Scavenging
duty, corrupted officials like this could offer haven for a price. Eli handed her
the stack of ration tickets he promised in response. His grandparents would
no longer need to care for him, so they could spare this much. He wondered
for a moment if they were disappointed that their only living descendant had
turned out to be a coward.
The train that roared dully beside them was heading for Chicago. While
nowhere as grand as Central Belmont had become, there was no such thing
as Scavenging there. There was slightly more humanity, but at the same
time, the local government did not pretend to care that some of the populace
would starve because of this… compassion. Marci brushed back some of her
hair and peered at the young man with curiosity, “What will you do when you
get there?”
Eli recalled his past with a wry smile, “What I do best.”
Survival is such a rare thing in this world. While everyone looked down
upon Eli Caverly, he harbored such a precious talent. Cowardice, immorality,
these are the traits of a survivor.
Though, it was probable that the ink haired thief would not survive the
future so well after all. Maybe, he had taken to Scavenging too much. For the
remainder of his life, he would remember those strange sentiments he had
experienced Outside. The ones he wished to salvage.
9
The rag-clothed boys were laughing gleefully as they huddled around
the trembling form of the wiry ink haired youth who they had shoved to the
muck-covered sidewalk. “You can’t escape us now, mouse,” The eldest boy
crouched near to the quivering figure.
Other members of the gang shot glares at passing adults, clad in
military color-coded outfits, preventing intervention. The group’s victim turn
his face slightly upwards, blood oozing from his grazed cheek. His dusky
russet orbs flitted around the legs surrounding him, searching for an opening.
The leader’s dusty boot slammed down on the boy’s hand.
“We should tear your creepy fucking eyes out,” He growled as the
smaller boy cried out in agony. The follower’s gave an approving roar.
“Hey, hey!” A deep rumbling voice silenced the mob and they turned
toward a tall navy clad man approaching them. The beaten teenager in the
center of the gathering stiffened. The ration tickets he had snatched from a
small grocer earlier seemed to burn in the pocket of his shredded jeans.
The gang’s leader shifted away from the boy quickly tossing his hands
in the air half-heartedly. “What’s the problem, Officer? We were just playing
with Mouse here,” he protested with feigned innocence, invoking snickers
from the other boys. The Officer began to wedge himself in-between the
clump of younger males to peer at the scene.
The boy on the ground had turned his head so his face was pressed to
the pavement again, hiding his ever-moving eyes. His palms lay flatly on the
surface. Concerned, the Officer grunted and reached a hand towards him.
In an instant, the young man had leapt to his feet and darted from the
scene, knocking aside several of the boys who, in their surprise, were caught
off-guard. Irritated shouts resounded from the crowd, including from the
Officer, who initially began to chase after the youth. However, the
rambunctious delinquents behind him quickly recaptured his attention. He
turned his back to the fleet-footed teenager in difference for the easier
targets near him.
The door to the small hovel on the Northwest edge of Central Belmont
met the doorframe with crushing force causing the thin walls to shake. The
elderly woman who lived there, Anya, peered into the dim entryway and
called out for her grandson, “Elias?”
1
The fourteen-year-old in question paused briefly as he caught his
breath and straightened his back. Anya hissed in disapproval when the
adolescent appeared in the kitchen. The flesh on the right side of his face
was ravaged, and his left hand swollen scarlet. She threw her dishtowel into
the sink.
“Young man!” She reprimanded as Eli’s good hand retrieved that day’s
harvest. He placed the stack of ration cards upon the rickety table in the
middle of the room. The old woman’s calloused, bony hand rose in the air for
a moment but only hovered as the boy casually turned his face from her as if
expecting to be struck. “It seems you’ve already been through enough
today,” The woman muttered and pointed toward one of the wooden chairs,
prompting her grandson to sit.
Sweeping her wispy brown hair upwards, Anya pulled out a woven
basket full of half-used medical supplies. “I told you I’d stop when I could get
actual work, Gran. So, this is the last time, and I went through a lot to get it.
Please, just use ‘em,” Eli pleaded with the woman as she rubbed the right
side of his face gingerly with a disinfectant soaked cloth.
She pulled away from the boy and stared at him with weary chestnut
eyes. Finally, she heaved a great sigh. “Yes, tomorrow you’ll be fifteen. You’ll
be assigned a proper job, make a proper living. Understand me, boy?” She
affectionately tapped his chin. When he nodded seriously, she proceeded to
bind his wretched hand in beige bandages.
The door moaned once more as the third member of the household
entered. “I’m home,” A tired yet firm voice floated into the small kitchen.
The serious woman replied to her husband wearily as she finally
knotted the wrap, causing Eli to wriggle a bit in discomfort at the tightness. A
tall man with pepper gray hair clomped into the room, decked in a bright
yellow construction worker’s uniform. He smiled wryly as he looked upon his
wife and grandchild, the creases on his sunburnt face folding with purpose.
“The Officers didn’t catch you, did they?”
“No,” Eli responded hesitantly, “Just some neighborhood kids.” He
peered down at his worn shoes embarrassed. The other boys who lived on
the Northwest edge of the city called him Mouse, because he was skittish
and lanky. The unbreakable mannerism that he was afflicted with – nervous
flighty eyes – only worsened the situation. The ink-haired youth think himself
misunderstood, however. The other children had seen right through Eli. He
knew himself that he was erratic, dishonest, and a coward.
The old man, Jerod, walked toward the table and flipped through the
stack of ration cards. His grandson had resulted to thievery to help support
2
the family years ago. Eli’s defense was that it wasn’t his fault that the
government didn’t provide children with decent work. And Jerod couldn’t
deny that the small family needed the extra income. So, despite Anya’s
disapproval, he did not scold the child.
He could feel the sting of the woman’s glare now as he pocketed the
tickets. “At least,” Jerod reconciled, “This will be the last time. Tomorrow, Eli
becomes a man.” One of his large rough hands patted the adolescent’s
gaunt shoulder. A thin smile came to Eli’s face but he could not meet his
grandfather’s eyes.
The boy was ashamed of his reputation as a coward, because he
idolized Jerod. The man was brave. When Eli’s parents perished in The
Beginning, the man had set out from Chicago as a pioneer to help build the
center of the new government that sprung from the ruins of Mid-Western
America. Seemingly fearless, he supported his young grandson and wife as
one of the first settlers of Central Belmont. Never had Eli seen his
grandfather waver, in principle or courage.
Now on the cusp of adulthood, he had grown to be the exact opposite
of Jerod. At the same time, he wondered would live his life any differently. His
actions always seemed correct in his eyes. His cowardice and flightiness
were survival mechanisms. His criminal occupation supported his worn and
worried grandparents. No, he regretted nothing.
Eli cringed as he tried to push himself through the crowd of teenagersthose born on the same day as he was- at the front of the Service Center.
Two gray clad officials peered over the crowd on a platform muttering to
each other between calling names, and carefully keeping records on their
Tablets. Ah, what an easy life military office types like them must have. The
young man snorted in disdain, as he knew he would never have a leisurely
job like that, for he never went to supposedly mandated Military school. His
absence, due to his self-appointed job as a thief, assured that he would be
toiling the rest of his life away doing hard labor. But it would bring in ration
tickets, legally.
“Yvette Dunton.”
A girl with cropped, dull blonde hair elbowed past Eli, turning back for a
second to give him a glare. An uneasy sigh crossed his lips at the unfriendly
treatment he was so used to. One of his scurrying eyes followed the tall
blonde as she approached the platform, and the female official handed her a
white coat. She was to become a doctor, or scientist of some sort. A Medic,
most likely. Another comparatively privileged lifestyle.
3
“Elias Caverly,” The gray suited man hollered. The boy slipped through
the mass of people, trying to make use of my thin frame.
When the scruffy ink-haired youth reached front of the crowd, the
official curled his lip at him. He twisted around and pulled a black uniform
from the colorful stack of fabric behind him. The clothing was quickly
discarded into Eli’s outstretched hands. “What’s this?” The boy protested as
the man stared over him in dismissal.
Loud chattering spread throughout the young adults gathered behind
him. Black was not one of the occupational uniforms they handed out to the
adolescents entering the workforce. In fact, black was an outcast’s color.
Black meant“We’re starting to put Civs on Scavenging duty,” The woman official
announced to a bewildered Eli, quieting the crowd, “There’s too high demand
for us to just make criminals do it anymore. If you dislike this outcome, you
have only yourself to blame, young man. And that goes to the rest of you
too. Your safety is dependent on Belmont, and Belmont is dependent on your
contributions. So, if you prove to be inept, can you blame us for using you in
such a manner?” A few grumbles of contempt erupted from the youths with a
few more gasps. Anxious members of the group wailed over the possibility of
succumbing to the fate that Eli Caverly had.
“Well, Scavenger, off you go,” The male official waved Eli away
aggressively.
Dread pooled in the pit of Eli’s stomach as he stared at the towering
gate. Had some cosmic force come to pay him for his past misdeeds? The
government didn’t know of them, but had still treated him like a criminal.
It seemed that the other fifteen-year-olds who shared his birthday had
lucked out, and considered of enough worth to be spared from… the Outside.
The oversized ebony-dyed suit he received merely clung to the few
juxtaposed muscles his thin body maintained, making him feel even more
vulnerable than before.
Behind him, a tall woman with thick auburn hair and a handsome face
wearing a more fitted uniform of the same hue slapped him on the back.
“Ready, rookie?”
A few other rough characters of varying ages milled around; the other
members of his Scavenging team. Though trying his best to keep his cool,
the teenager stuttered when he spoke to Vinni, the leader of this fatal
4
expedition. “W-won’t we even get weapons or something to protect
ourselves with?”
“Heh,” The lady chuckled at the boy’s uncertainty, “The officials do
that much at least. But we don’t go giving rookies something like that,
‘specially not the first day.”
“But-” Eli began to refute the woman before she held up one of her
large hands. With the other, she waved over another member of the team. A
young man with burnished skin the shade of coffee beans approached and
gazing upon the obviously anxious newcomer grinned revealing crooked
pearly teeth.
“Troy here, will stick with ya. He’s all the firepower you’ll need,” Vinni
pointed to the man with one thumb, and Troy rose the crossbow in his hand
as if to reassure the boy. Vinni paused as she began to turn away, giving the
teenager a wolfish smile, “At least, you better hope so.”
A visible shudder passed through Eli as the woman walked away.
“Don’t worry. She’s just toying with you, kid. The places where we scavenge
are usually clean, thanks to the Patrols and Hunters,” Troy gave the youth a
kind squeeze on the shoulder.
Eli jerked away, cursing fate, angered with the world. He wanted to be
brave, like his grandfather. He wanted to be a man instead of a Mouse; the
name that the neighborhood children had burdened him with. But despite all
that he desired, there was one thing that Eli longed for so much that he
couldn’t bare it; to survive.
“It’s not fair,” The dark man beside the boy muttered watching him
with a sorrowful stare as his wiry frame began to tremble in despair, “Kids…
don’t deserve this. To be treated like rats like us.”
Suddenly, the adolescent threw his head back in a fit of bitter laughter,
his inky locks disheveled at the sudden motion. “A rat… is a promotion from
Mouse, right?” He muttered, more to himself than to Troy.
The scraps of metal that Eli had been sawing away from ruined
buildings and cars often tore at the skin on his hands. He pursed his lips,
resenting the government’s neglectfulness to not even give the so-called
rats of the Scavenging team work-gloves. He turned his face toward the
cloud-riddled sky.
“Hey,” Troy, who was stacking the metal pieces in a wheelbarrow
behind Eli called out, “This is no time for cloud watching, kid.” An
5
uncharacteristic smile formed on the teenager’s face and he chuckled before
giving the man a light apology, soon returning to his task despite his raw
palms.
Two weeks had passed since Eli became a Scavenger. The unease had
not disappeared completely, but Troy’s words had proved true. The team had
not chanced upon danger in their ventures, and Eli found he enjoyed
exploring the ruins of the society that existed before The Beginning. There
were sights, sounds, and visions abandoned by the militaristic entity that
Belmont had begun. When searching for the materials the government
needed, he came upon so many objects and visions that no one would
salvage.
The fruits of the labor before the disease; art, music, and history.
Despite Eli’s unwillingness to be here, he began truly found worth in these
human vestiges, and a strange sense of honor in that he may be the only
one to value these sentiments, that in these dark days, most considered
frivolous.
Sensing that the boy was lost in thought once more, Troy gave him a
light push. “You’re not getting bored with the job, are you?” He chortled,
optimistic as usual, “You can always become a Hunter, you know. They get
way better benefits.”
Eli narrowed his eyes at the older man’s ridiculous suggestion causing
him to guffaw louder than before. “I still can’t get over those eyes.”
Instead of taking offense, Eli just exhaled peacefully. While others
typically found the teenager’s gaze unbearably calculating and- for no better
word- creepy, Troy regarded the mannerism with amusement. It was
refreshing for the boy, and for the first time, he felt as if he had formed a
friendship.
Troy quieted down, kneeling beside his companion and stifling a yawn.
“Ever wonder what the point of all this is?”
“Do you mean like life and stuff?”
“No, I’m not into deep shit like that,” Troy snorted, “I meant, we’ve
been collecting all this junk, and heaping it in that massive pile by the rail
yard. There’s enough there to build a few skyscrapers, I swear. But still they
keep sending more kids like you, because of demand issues?”
“Oh,” Eli responded gloomily, he was already aware of this disturbing
trend, “Well, think about it, it’s easier to scavenge metal than food rations.”
6
The older man perked up at the youth’s bitter tone. “What do you
mean?”
“Every day, Central Belmont receives an influx of refugees. They pat
themselves on the back for taking in all the uninfected survivors, but… it’s
impossible. There simply isn’t enough food. So, take the rats like us.
Criminals and worthless Civs like me, we should just stay Outside until we
die, so that Belmont can create a utopia,” Eli finished his rant, and stood up,
“Well, that’s my theory anyway.”
Troy had cast his daze to the rubble-coated ground. When he glanced
up, his toothy grin had reappeared. “You’re pretty damn smart,” He praised
Eli and stretched outwards, “How’d you get stuck out here?”
“Never showed up for school, I guess,” The boy responded throwing
the worn saw on top of the assortment of scraps they’d collected.
Troy made a sound of disgruntlement, “That was pretty fucking stupid,
huh?”
“Guess so.”
The two basked in a moment of silence underneath the endless silver
sky of the Outside. “Do you want to be a Hunter, Troy?” Eli queried with a
sudden desire to understand the man before him. A man who always smiled
and kept his calm, despite the injustice and horror that surrounded him. Was
this the legendary nonchalance that Hunters possessed?
“I will be, someday,” He responded, “After I serve my time here and
have some sort of freedom like you. Assuming I don’t die like you say they
want me to.”
Eli opened his mouth but was unsure of what to say. Troy just shook his
head at the boy with an expression of melancholy.
A sudden shriek of agony pierced the atmosphere from somewhere
further in the ruins of the small town they were tearing apart. Eli deftly took
in his surrounding, finding that all the members of his scavenging team were
safely nearby. Everyone had halted. Vinni ordered everyone to gather up
their harvest for the day and make a hasty retreat back to the security of the
city walls.
Eli began to take hold of the wheelbarrow’s handles but soon noticed
that Troy was no longer beside him. He turned around to find Troy jogging
down the street towards the desperate cries. No one else had noticed as the
two young men were behind the rest of the group. Hesitantly, Eli hollered for
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his friend but he continued onwards. The boy released his hold and began to
dash after the careless man.
“Troy, wait!” He followed, tightening the cloth belt that held his
oversized trousers to his thin hips. Soon he disappeared over a steep hill in
the road. A swarm of obsidian-feathered birds croaking ominously inhabited
the sky ahead. As Eli reached the peak of the slope, he froze aghast at the
sight below.
Here, man had carved an enormous pit from the earth. Overflowing
from this manufactured hole were wretched bodies, a sea of loss and
pestilence. Some still moved. Yes, this was the disease. The zombies that
wriggled between the peaceful dead were the victims of Thanasis, which
ravaged this country when Eli was still an innocent child. A child with steady
eyes.
A young girl had fallen in the tides of the dead. Her body had not been
completely taken by the disease yet, but she was lost to it. Some of the
diseased had clung to her legs and were devouring her lower half with
sickening zealousness. The teenager couldn’t bare it. Troy had already
rushed to the side of the trench and clutched the girls pale hands. He gasped
in effort as he tried to pull what remained of her from the grip of the
infected. There were simply too many, the predators gathered to secure their
prey. The strength of their numbers soon overwhelmed Troy and he was
slipping with the dying girl into the mass grave.
He would not release the crying damsel, even then. His distressed gaze
landed on the terrorized boy and his hand struggled out toward him. “Eli!”
Eli felt his desire to survive crushing him, making even breathing a
struggle. Every fiber of his being urged him to run to the safety of the walls.
In his mind, he could see himself grasping Troy, only to be dragged into the
waves, devoured forevermore. “Let go!” Eli screamed, voice echoing off the
ruins surrounding them. This used to be a town, now it is hell.
A snarl erupted from Troy as he looked at Eli with pity. The boy did not
understand this man. Did he not have the will to live? This girl… she was lost
already. She would never survive. What mercy could they offer her? And how
could it be worth it, if they did not continue to exist?
The dark-skinned man redoubled his efforts, evidently struggling. It
was all as futile as Eli thought. He was soon perilously close to the edge.
The boy could not stand to watch this. He turned and fled the scene,
tripping on his way down. As his body met the pavement painfully, tumbling
until the ground evened out, he thought he could hear Troy howl. Tears
8
slipped down his face for the first time since his parents met the same fate
before his eyes. Since then those eyes cannot rest.
“Are you sure about this?” The young woman, Marci, dusted her gray
uniform off. Ever since the government started assigning Civs Scavenging
duty, corrupted officials like this could offer haven for a price. Eli handed her
the stack of ration tickets he promised in response. His grandparents would
no longer need to care for him, so they could spare this much. He wondered
for a moment if they were disappointed that their only living descendant had
turned out to be a coward.
The train that roared dully beside them was heading for Chicago. While
nowhere as grand as Central Belmont had become, there was no such thing
as Scavenging there. There was slightly more humanity, but at the same
time, the local government did not pretend to care that some of the populace
would starve because of this… compassion. Marci brushed back some of her
hair and peered at the young man with curiosity, “What will you do when you
get there?”
Eli recalled his past with a wry smile, “What I do best.”
Survival is such a rare thing in this world. While everyone looked down
upon Eli Caverly, he harbored such a precious talent. Cowardice, immorality,
these are the traits of a survivor.
Though, it was probable that the ink haired thief would not survive the
future so well after all. Maybe, he had taken to Scavenging too much. For the
remainder of his life, he would remember those strange sentiments he had
experienced Outside. The ones he wished to salvage.
9
