Vices

  Chapter 2

  The sky was a bluish gray hue from what I could see. Ever since the abomination struck, there had been a hazy smog that sat between the sky and the land, making it difficult to see, and even more difficult to breathe.  It was early fall and the leaves should've been falling off the trees, but the trees in this town were charred and decimated-- a product of the chemical warfare used by the government. They stuck out of the ground like skeleton hands reaching toward the sky grasping for some unknown force that could give them life. They were reminders of the death that had swept through this once fruitful land.

  On that fateful day as I was wandering through the countryside, I happened upon a small town that seemed deserted, most likely with nothing to offer me. But unbeknownst to me, that city was the place that kept something I desperately sought after-- a gas mask. 

  After dispersing chemicals through the air to kill off stragglers, the government’s dream was complete. They killed off most through systematic murders, but there were always some leftover, some which had the guts to run. They were smart, though, they knew the chemicals would linger, and they certainly did.

  I had found that gas mask out of pure luck. As I was treading through that god-forsaken little speck on a U.S. map, I saw a body lying face down in the middle of the street. The once main-street was cracked to a point where if you stepped anywhere, the ground would crumble underneath you. I was careful not to step in one of the six-foot deep potholes. After having worked my way down the precarious piece of concrete and closer to my target, I could see that the corpse was wearing a gas mask, which made me think that this person may have been a government worker.

  The body was close, yet through the smog it seemed to be yards away. I crept towards it, fearing this could be drawing me into a trap, until I noticed its chest didn’t move up and down in the most familiar manner. Well actually I suppose it was more due to the fact that their back, or anything for that matter, wasn’t moving. The stabbing tension in my head eased and I walked up to the lifeless cadaver.

  The cadaver was the body of a middle aged man. His arms were long and lean, but strong. This was the body of a survivor.

  I knelt down next to him, and turned him over. This poor fool had probably been minding his own business, one of the few with the luxury of a gas mask to filter out the unclean air, when probably out of the blue he had been struck out of pure fear. He had long gashes in his stomach, most likely from another survivor wielding a knife that they had clung to, being the only weapon that our great government permitted anyone to possess anymore.

  The gas mask had become a symbol of the government. The government did not care to save its people—only the important ones, only the ones who could work and the ones who would beg and grovel and stay in their place. The government could breathe easy. We could not. Although, there were others who had been spared, chosen from a lottery of death, who were alive and incorrupt, but those were few and far between. Those who were given the gift of their life were still pawns, completely at the mercy of their leaders, because if they did something their lords didn’t approve of, they would be sent away and never heard from again.

  The smell of rotten flesh forced its way into my nostrils, which brought me back to the present. Out of disgust I stepped back and noticed a rather curious sight reflecting off the window of an old general goods store, whose paint had been ripped clean off and whose sign held the only word, “Run.” One thing I hadn’t come across since I had left my home is electronic equipment. It seems odd that in a world that had previously been at the peak of modern technology, it would all up and disappear-- but that’s how it worked. And as I stood there looking at the little flashing red light reflecting off the window, something clicked in my head and I knew I was being watched. I had to work fast.

  As I struggled to remove the gas mask from the poor sap’s head, I heard a noise-- a blast that pierced the air and made my heart sink. The sound of the gunshot rang in my ears and made me panic and scramble to remove the gas mask.  The only people with guns were part of the government. Right then, I understood why they this person laid dead in the middle of the street with a gas mask placed conveniently on their face. The government is full of cunning trappers.

  I had heard about the government creating their own secret police to take care of stragglers that should’ve been removed at the time of the purge, but I never thought they’d be out here in the middle of the plains.

  The government had a very sick sense of humor, always trying to pin the weak against the weak, making us afraid to trust one another. Making it impossible to fight back against the real evil-- them. They had probably killed that man as an example, showing that even if you think you can breathe safely, that small comfort is not yours to keep and if they find you, they will kill you for your childish ignorance.

  I finally tore the gas mask from the cadaver’s face and scrambled up on my feet. I heard another shot ring out and I dashed behind the nearest building. It looked like it had been a small butcher’s shop or maybe a deli, but all that was left of it was its chipped blue paint and the sockets that had once held the windows that had been eyes for the neighborhood butcher.

  My breathing was rapid and I tried to calm down out of fear that they could hear me. I knew I needed to look out and see if they were still nearby, but I was petrified. As I was about to move to look and see if they were near, I heard a voice.

  “They ran off.”

  “Damn cowards. They think running will save them.” He laughs. “We’ll find ‘em. They won’t get out of here, one person against a hundred—a goddamn joke. “

  I couldn’t tell if there were two or more, but the man who had spoken second was definitely the man of higher standing. He had an icy cruel tone that almost all those working with the government possessed. A tone that could send a family to their deaths or that could rip apart a man who had disobeyed orders. But there was something about this man that set him apart from the other men; this man was the epitome of egregiousness. There was something completely terrible and great about him. And the scary thing was, I could tell all of this just by the tone and pitch of his voice.

  His words hung in the air, which made the silence even more uncomfortable. This man ignited a sense of fear in me I hadn't felt since the cleansing. It was a fear that I would always remember. I noticed that I could finally move my legs when I heard a footstep from ten or fifteen feet away. It was obvious that someone spotted me, so naturally I broke off into a dead sprint in the opposite direction.

  When I was in school, I had enjoyed running, so this shouldn’t have been hard for me, but I hadn’t had the sense to put the gas mask on, so my breathing became heavy and labored. I hastened to snap the mask around my face and with great difficulty I finally got it on. It had been a long time since I had been able to take in a deep breath and not feel trespassed upon.

  After getting a couple good breaths I picked up my speed again and dashed down a small side street and up an alley. My surroundings were all a blur, and the police that had been after me were nowhere in sight. After turning down a couple more side streets I hit a larger street and stopped. I looked around, and there was no sign of life here either. I placed my hand against a brick wall to hold myself up, when I heard another sound. It sounded like people running, and it sounded like a lot more than two.

  This town had turned into a labyrinth with a Minotaur waiting for me at every corner. I dashed down streets and jumped over debris, the sound of footsteps seemed to get louder and louder. I couldn’t tell if the acoustics in the mask were just playing a trick on me.

  The sounds of my feet treading on the dusty ground mirrored the beating of my heart, fast and panicked. I felt like my heart had been squeezed up into my throat, constricting my breathing and making me feel even more disoriented and lost than I already was.

  After slowing to a steady jog, I focused my energy on listening to the pattering of feet on the roads. Suddenly the sounds of footsteps wer
e incredibly near and I started to panic. I rounded another corner and what I was running from was looking me right in the face. There were two men, both probably in their early thirties. They wore the standard government-issue uniform.

  The pale dark brown suits that sat upon their muscular bodies were wrinkled and dirty; it looked as though they hadn’t been washed in quite some time. I wondered if they had been working overtime lately-- killing all the stragglers they possibly could.

  I noticed the insignia of the newly formed government, a red upside-down triangle with two eyes in the middle surrounded by a dashed circle, and the sight of it sent a shudder through me. Every time I come face to face with the monsters that occupy this newly created tyranny, I can’t help but feel completely disgusted.

  The whole process of me looking at those two men took place in about one second and before they had the chance to take out their guns and finish the job, I struck with all of the intensity that I could possibly muster.

  My left fist connected with the man on the left’s neck and I swung around and kicked the one on the right hard-- right in the cheekbone. I heard a cracking noise and the fellow on the right cried out in pain and fell to the ground-- incapable of helping his friend with the fight.

  The other fellow reacted faster than I had expected, knocking me to the ground with a swift kick to the back of the knee. I was stunned by this guy’s speed. Ever since the end had begun, I had felt that I was much faster, much stronger, and much sharper; but somehow this fellow was even faster than me. I had seen a newspaper article stating that those who had breathed in the leftovers from the toxic gas had become weakened and disabled; but of course that was another lie the government had spread.

  On the contrary, we were stronger, faster, and sharper than they were and they couldn’t accept that. They don’t want to seem weak. It’s ironic that the government had tried to completely obliterate us, but really some of us got the better end of the deal. You could sort of say we’re super humans, but then again that may be going too far.

  As I stared up at this guy, I wondered if he had been one of the few who had turned themselves in-- one who had joined the enemy side. I looked into his dark-clouded eyes and I saw that the shred of humanity was still intact. He hadn’t become a soulless government official yet. His eyes were cradling his feelings of confliction.

  He looked down at me and I could tell he wouldn’t be able to kill me. He was no doubt trained to get rid of stragglers, but this man could have been a straggler himself and he couldn’t commit such a betrayal. He still had a soul.

  “Run before they get here. They’re coming,” He spoke as he grabbed my hands and hoisted me back onto my feet. “You have to run. You have to get away from them. They’ll kill you.” His words were all jumbled together and once I was on my feet he basically pushed me back into running speed.

  All I could think in my head was: thank you. I hadn’t been able to say those words in so long.

  I sprinted dead-on as fast as I could for as long as I could, but the town seemed to go on forever. Fortunately there was still no one in sight. The night was about to break and I knew they’d probably give up once nightfall hit.

  I decided running wasn’t  going to work unless I wanted to just fall over and die, so I turned a corner and ran up to the nearest door of a house. There didn’t seem to be anyone home, but I was starting to wonder if this was a city completely occupied by the police.

  The door knob was rusted and stained, and by the looks of it, hadn’t been turned in a long while, so I decided it was a safe bet that no one was going to be standing behind it. I turned the knob and attempted to pull the door open, but it wouldn’t budge. It wasn’t locked, but it sure was jammed underneath.

  The silence was broken as I heard the rhythmic thunder of many feet getting closer and scurried to rip the rug that had been jammed under the door out as quickly as possible. After much difficulty, I finally tore the rug out and scrambled up onto my feet and reached for the door knob. I turned and pulled and the door thankfully opened.

  I rushed into the small tan cube-shaped cottage and shut the door with as little noise as possible. There was no sign of any living inhabitants, but my anxiety was still peaking and I needed to find a place to hide inside. The house was standard, with a kitchen and dining room near the entry way and a living room to the left, and through the living room was a hallway leading to two small rooms and a bathroom.

  I ripped the gas mask off my face, allowing air to penetrate my lungs quicker and easier. I took in a couple much needed breaths as I stood on a Welcome sign whose design looked like that of a gardener’s home, with flowers and trowels and pots swirling around the words “Welcome to My Home” written in a Victorian style of cursive.

  The house looked as though it had been well lived in at one point in time. In the entry there were shelves covering the walls with little teacups cluttering them. They looked as though they had been fussed with-- you could tell they weren’t in their rightful places, which made it look unnatural, like a burglar had intruded and left the place in disarray. The carpeted floor was a cream color, somewhat similar to the outside paint, but looked stained and worn-out.

  The kitchen was quaint with white wooden cabinets and white tiles that had dirt stuck between the cracks. The sink was white as well. Aged meals still graced the plates lying inside it. The dining table was overturned and the window on the wall behind it was broken, the glass still lying scattered in and on top of the carpet; it was eerie seeing a home that was trespassed upon. The disarray made the house seem more like a battle field. In fact, it held the essence of a minefield.

  Through the dining room was the living room, a place of comfort turned into a lounge of shambles. The couches were overturned and the TV was smashed into bits in the middle of the room. The paintings had been torn from the walls and the holes that had held the nails looked like deep scars.

  It all seemed so wrong.

  I turned down the hallway and breathed in an unmistakable smell-- the smell of ammonia. The bathroom reeked, and once I opened the door I knew why. Lying face down in the old claw foot bathtub was a person who had lost all hope and committed suicide. The bathtub was filled to the brim with ammonia and I choked on my breath. I got out of the bathroom as quickly as possible and shut the door. I saw a cloth lying in the hallway and shoved it under the door, trying to create a barrier between the stench and me.

  After I caught my breath and felt less like fainting, I walked to the door on the left.  The doorknob had been smashed in, and I didn’t really want to try and open it. There was another door adjacent to it, and this one had a completely functional doorknob. I entered the room and glanced around. All I could feel was a growing sense of panic. Don’t let your guard down, I said to myself. This room looked particularly normal. It had nothing misplaced and it even looked lived in, which made me very uneasy.

  I walked through the door and into the middle of the room, and it looked pretty much normal all the way around. I checked under the bed and desk, behind the dresser, and in the closet to make sure I didn’t have any company. Sure enough, no one was in the room. I shut the door to the hallway and sat down on the bed, attempting to calm down.

  The room looked as though it had probably been inhabited by a teenager before the house had been abandoned. I wondered what the story was of the family who had lived here. Had the person in the bathtub been forced to stay behind? Was their entire family taken in the Slay?  Whatever the story may have been, I’m sure it didn’t have a happy ending. At least not for the person floating in their grave.

  I gazed around the room.

  The room was a standard sized room, with one window facing the north. A desk sat underneath the window and a bed held its place to the right of it. A large dresser sat near the wall opposite of the bed. There were shelves of trophies positioned over the bed and quite a few posters on the wall by the dresser. It looked like a boy had inhabited this room and again I found mysel
f pondering his fate.

  He had probably been my age when the government had struck. I was starting to wonder if I was one of the few young people left in this dismal world.

  I moved the curtain away from the window and looked out into the backyard. It was barren and all of what had been grass was a sad tan color. It had probably once been a pretty little backyard, but now it was just a sad plot of dust. There was one big old oak tree in the corner and I smiled at its presence. It was charred on one side, but the other side seemed to still have some life left in it.

  Back home there had been a large oak tree in my front yard and I had loved it. I used to sit under it and relax in the shade on hot summer days and I even loved it when I would get a ball or racket stuck in it when the games in my front yard got out of hand. It was always exciting to see the leaves turn red and brown, an indicator for the coming winter.

  I sighed and let go of the curtain. No need to reminisce about the past-- it was gone now. It’s best to look to the future and my survival.

  I didn’t know what I was going to do. I’ve always been quick on my feet with plans, but for once in my life I was completely lost. I was trapped in a trap city and I was most likely their only prey for the time being.

  Things had always looked grim, but now they had turned from grim to almost hopeless. At least I had a gas mask. If I got out of this situation alive, I would undoubtedly be better off than before. No more sudden bouts of asphyxiation.

  I walked over to the bed and sat down. I was thirsty, and I knew better than to try the sink in the kitchen. The police no doubt had the water and electric systems monitored at all times to make sure no poor citizen was ignorant enough to try and use some of the government’s resources for him- or herself.  Or maybe to find someone like me who was drawn into their trap and happened to get away and hide. There was that too.

  I sprawled out on the bed and tried to rest my eyes. Now that I was lying down, I was hit with a heavy wave of fatigue.  I was finally calming down.

  If only I would’ve known all the trouble I would go through to get that damned mask, I would’ve never ventured through that town. Perhaps my life would’ve ended without any more painful incidents than what the end had brought. I was always too quick to jump to brighter conclusions. I should’ve been warier of my surroundings and of the people who hunted me.

  I heard a loud crash. A canister came crashing through the window and I sprang to my feet.

  Unfortunately, I was too late to secure the mask over my face. The world began to spin and my lungs were filled with a red gas. I felt my eyes water as I lost control of my legs and fell to the floor. My tongue seemed to swell up, causing my eyes to water in pain. My arms and legs began to shake and I grabbed out for the bed to pull myself under, but by then I had lost all control.

  I took one final look up and saw two officers in gas masks.

  This could be my end.