HUMANITY: A Post-Apocalyptic Sci-Fi Novel (7 page)

M
ich walked
through the door and placed his tennis shoes on the door mat. He could hear the sound of knocking on the wall and the sound of a woman’s quick repeated moans in the background. He attempted to ignore the sounds, and simply walked through the slim halls back to his room.

He closed the door, threw his backpack on the bed and wondered what he should do. His room in the small trailer consisted of a twin sized bed, a television without cable, and a closet with a box filled with random inanimate objects that he had collected during his short life. He would love to go outside and play with his friends, but he wasn’t allowed to leave the grassed area around the trailer unless going to school, and his friends weren’t allowed near his home.

He unzipped his backpack and pulled out a small book he had rented from the school library. At least he was able to read, he thought. The book was about a young boy who had magical abilities and had to save the world from an evil power. When he read the book, he felt like he was whisked away to another world.

“Mich!” a voice cried out. “Mich, C’mere!”

He sat the book down and and made his way to the desolate kitchen.

“Mich, there’s someone I want you to meet.” His mom smiled.

His mom was a slim lady with bleach blonde hair and green eyes. Beside her stood a man with brown, semi-curled hair combed into a poof at the front in a similar style to Elvis Presley. The man was wearing a T-shirt with the arms cut off and was leaning forward against a chair, chewing gum with a dubious grin.

“This is Tony. He’s a friend of mom’s,” his mom said, referring to herself in third person.

“Hi,” Mich said.

“How’s it going, little man?” The man said as he walked over towards Mich.

“Good,” Mich replied and smiled.

He was young, but he knew that “friend” to his mom meant a “guy who I can shack up with and get money from.”

“Nice to meet you. How old are you?” the man asked.

“I’m 11,” Mich said proudly.

Mich found the situation awkward and wasn’t sure what to say to the man. Where did his mom meet this guy? All he really wanted to do was go back to his room so he could continue with his book. He turned to his mom and asked, “Can I go now?”

His mom glared disappointedly at Mich. “Yeah, you can go…”

As Mich started his way back to his room, the new man in the trailer called out, “Hey, maybe we can go play ball next time.”

“Okay,” Mich replied with little interest.

M
ich sat
in the tattered car, quietly wondering where he was heading next. He wanted to cry, but he knew that tears wouldn’t help. He had lost everything that he knew. His few friends, his hometown, and even the random inanimate objects that he collected in the box over the years. His mom had told him there wasn’t enough room in the car.

The man with the poofy hair drove arrogantly with his seat pushed far back, and both the man and his mom were singing, snapping their fingers, and dancing to an insufferable song that they had playing on the radio. His mom seemed excited and completely unconcerned by Mich’s complete state of distress.

He closed his eyes and laid his head on the armrest, imagining he was the boy in that book that he no longer had.

A
s Mich looked
out the boxy window, he saw large houses nestled in trees with beautifully landscaped yards. He wondered what it was like to live inside them. He imagined that there were families inside, sitting around a large kitchen table, being served muffins and soda by a friendly mom wearing a cute cooking apron.

The school bus pulled up in front of his home, and one of the kids sitting behind him coughed and simultaneously yelled, “Trailer trash!” repeatedly.

The other kids on the bus burst out with laughter. It was hard enough to be the new kid at school, but living in run down trailer located in the middle of nowhere special placed an even greater target on his back.

As Mich stood to exit the bus, he felt a couple balls of paper ricochet off of his back. He simply ignored the assault and slowly walked down the steps and onto the street.

“Pussy won’t even do nothing!” a boy on the bus yelled out the window.

Outside of the grimy trailer was a small blow-up pool, a water hose, and a lawn chair that his mom liked to lie on when the sun was out. The grass was beaten up from the lack of a proper driveway. They simply parked their car anywhere close to the entrance.

Mich wondered if his life would always be like this. Would he never live in a real home? Would he always have no friends and nothing to keep him entertained? He felt powerless, and felt that even if he one day managed to have a wife and a family, this was probably the life that he was always destined to live.

He walked inside the trailer, and his now pregnant mom and the guy with the poofy hair were playing video games on the TV. The television was a large 50” inch screen, and seemed to take up nearly the entire living room of the small trailer. It was a priority purchase for the couple when they moved into the new home. Mich, no longer had his own room, and the living room now doubled as his living quarters.

Mich sat his bag down and made his way to the couch, pulling out a magazine he had managed to score by saving his lunch money for a week. He opened the pages and tried the block out the sound of the video games and the sound of his mom and her bed partner talking to each other.

“Hey Mich, get me a beer,” the man ordered.

“I’ll have one too,” his mom said without turning around.

He sat the magazine down and walked to the kitchen, doing as he was told. He knew that if he questioned anything, there would be hell to pay; he would receive a beating and a long lecture about how kids have to listen to the grown-ups.

He handed his mom and the man a beer each, and before he could sit down, Tony stood up and started doing faux martial arts moves in the air and making Kung-Fu sounds. He picked Mich up and flipped him, dropping him on his back onto his knee gently to not actually cause any pain.

Mich stood up and giggled as he received several light karate chops and phony punches to the neck and stomach.

Tony began walking away, making Mich think that he was finished with the game, but then unleased one final forward heel kick directly onto Mich’s chest while making a loud, comical, Kung Fu noise.

Mich’s small body went flying backwards, and he landed on his back. His eyes were wide with pain as he struggled and grasped for air. He had had been hit harder than expected and had the air knocked out of him. Tears rolled down his face and he gripped his chest tightly.

“Oh c’mon, don’t fake like that,” Tony snorted.

His mom turned around. “What’d you do to him?” she asked.

“We were just play wrestling, and now he’s fakin’ like he’s hurt.”

“You okay, Mich?” his mom probed.

Mich shook his head ‘No’ as he continued to struggle for breath.

“Oh, give me a break. I barely touched him,” Tony said out of the corner of his mouth as he took another swig of his beer.

Mich finally caught his breath and was able to speak. As he breathed deeply, tears were still running down his face. "You’re lying! You kicked me hard, and it hurt! I couldn’t breathe!”

The pain and fear of death sparked an anger and sense of bravery in Mich that he had never felt before, and he charged headfirst at Tony and started swinging fists anywhere that he could get them to land. When he realized his punches were having no effect, he aimed a fist at Tony’s groin and landed a shot.

“Owwwwww!” Tony grunted, and his face turned a blood red with madness.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” Tony yelled viciously at Mich. “You wanna fight, huh?”

The roar of Tony’s voice snapped Mich back into reality, and he once again realized he was just a small boy. Tony stomped towards Mich and pushed him up against the wall. He grabbed him by the neck and slowly started lifting him towards the ceiling.

“You think you’re a badass, huh? You think you’re tough? I’ll show you tough, motherfucker!”

Mich reached for his neck instinctively and tried to pry the large fingers from around it. He was grasping for air and choking. The fear of death again took hold of him. Was Tony going to kill him right there? Was his life about to end right at that moment? Would he die knowing he was just a piece of trailer trash who would never have a chance to accomplish anything other than being pelted with wads of paper every day when he returned home from school?

He managed to get out a squashed, “I’m sorry…” but it had no effect. Tony continue staring him in the eye and yelling expletives at him.

“Put him down, Tony. He’s chokin’,” Mich’s mom said.

“The boy needs to learn his lesson. You never hit a man in the crotch. You know that? You never hit a man in the crotch!” Tony turned his attention back to the choking Mich. “You want me to rip your balls off, huh? You want me to make it so that you can’t have kids? Cuz that’s what you’re trying do to me.”

Mich shook his head no as his head was turning beet red.

“You’re nothing but a weak little chickenshit,” Tony said as he shook his head at Mich.

Tony released his grasp on Mich’s neck, and Mich fell to the ground with a thud. He put his hands around his neck and grasped for air.

Tony pushed his face into the felled Mich and yelled as loud as he could, “Don’t you ever lay your hands on me again, mother fucker! If you ever hit me in the balls again, just you wait and see what happens!”

Mich sat on the kitchen floor, tears running down his face. Why was he being punished like this? He had no friends, his mother didn’t care, and he had no place to hide. He was weak, and there was nothing that he could do. He vowed to himself he would leave this place as soon as he had the ability to support his way and never look back.

After several hours, Tony and his mom finished playing video games and went back to their room together. Mitch picked himself off the kitchen floor and made his way to the living room. He picked up the magazine that had been left on the ground and placed it back in his bag.

He relaxed on the hard couch and pulled a thin blanket over himself. He laid there and wondered if his life would ever change.

I
mages of Tony
holding him to the ceiling flashed through Mich’s mind. He remembered struggling for air and grasping for the ability to speak. He remembered being so powerless and unable to breathe. He had dreamt about that moment in his life time and time again.

Why did Tony do that to him? Why was his body so cold?

Cold…? Wait, that wasn’t ever in my dream. Something isn’t right here! And what’s that noise?

Mich opened his eyes and inhaled a mouth full of water. His sinuses and lungs burned. He looked down at the sword hilt protruding out of his stomach and instantly remembered what had happened just a few moments ago.

There was no time to think or he was going to die.

He struggled to orient himself in the darkness, and it took all of his willpower not to inhale another gulp of water. He saw a dim light shining through the surface of the river and swam upwards with all the energy he had left. His stomach throbbed with every movement, and he felt like he was on the verge of passing out.

When he finally reached the top of the water, he took huge, deep breaths while trying to look around to see what was going on and where he was. The light from the moon in the sky was the only thing illuminating the night, so he could not make out all the necessary details.

The force of the strong river was pulling him downstream, and it seemed from the distant sound of the waterfall that he had not been in an unaware state for a very long time. Mich battled for several minutes to gain control of himself in the river, and eventually made it close to the rigid riverbanks. He grabbed onto a tree branch that was growing out into the water and tried to plan on his next move. He analyzed everything around him with his heart racing, and realized there was no possible way he could climb up the steep, smooth banks that were surrounding him. All that he could do was let go.

He released his grip, and once again, he was floating down the river, struggling to stay above water amongst to pressure of the raging current. As a few more minutes passed, he was tiring from all his efforts, and saw no opportunities on either side of him to escape. He considered if this was his last days on Rashada.

How ironic he only survived a day, he thought.

As if by miracle, right ahead of Mich came a low muddy island-like area that pushed out slightly into the water. Mich swam himself in alignment with the piece of land, and once he arrived, he pulled himself up and lay back-first on the ground, breathing heavily, coughing water and gripping the painful blade still stuck in his abdomen.

Mich was exhausted from both the pain and struggle in the river, and he could feel himself about to fall asleep at any time.

“You’re nothing but a weak little chickenshit,”
Tony’s voice rang out in his mind.

Mich clenched his fist. He thought of how feeble he was when he was younger. He thought of the human resistance on Rashada, and how powerless he felt as he watched the two Keepers battle on the bank of the river. He didn’t want his life to end like he was just a rag doll tossed aside; he didn’t want to be the weak little human who died without even fighting back.

Mich opened his eyes as wide as he could, fighting the sleepiness that was battling to overtake him. He looked to the hilt protruding from his abdomen and placed his hands around it, pulling as hard as he could. He grunted through the pain as he removed the blade, and blood came oozing out of the wound.

He threw the blade aside and crawled to a nearby tree, resting his back up against it. He pulled his wet linen shirt off and wrapped it tightly around his waist in an effort to control the blood spill. He had no idea what he was doing in a medical sense, but knew that he’d have to control his blood loss if he had any chance of survival. He pushed his hands tightly up against the wound and tried to ignore the pain.

Mich was surprised at how sleepy and lightheaded he felt, and knew that his wound was serious.

“Pussy won’t even do nothing!”
he heard more voices ringing in his head as he involuntarily blinked his eyes,

Mich gritted his teeth, and began his climb up the steep bank get away from the river. Where he landed ashore had a much more scalable incline to the completely vertical banks where he fell. He struggled up the side of the hill and eventually made it to the grassy top.

He looked around and all he could see was lush jungle vegetation. Tall trees surrounded him, and wild vines hung limply as if designed as mini bridges for animals to cross. Strange noises rang out in every direction from unknown creatures of the night, and instantly Mich felt a sense of fear. He had no idea where he was or how to get back to the city. He had only been in the planet a few days, and now he was lost in the middle of nowhere.

Logically, he figured his best chances were to follow the river upstream to see if he could find the clearing where he had fell, but even if he found the area, he would have no idea if the kidnapper would still be there to finish him off or if he could even make it up the spot where the waterfall dropped to access the clearing. In any event, he knew that he would not be able to navigate the jungle forest in the dark. He moved towards a large tree and sat down with his back against it. He looked at his bloodied shirt and hoped he would survive through the night. No sooner as he had the thought, he drifted off into sleep.

Mich awoke to the sounds of bird-like creatures chirping, as he groggily opened his eyes. He was desperately thirsty and hungry, and his mouth felt like he had been eating sand. He looked at the wound and could see that it had clotted up around his shirt overnight, but could tell he had lost a lot of blood by the whiteness in his skin.

He immediately noticed that there were several small, brown leech-like creatures that were stuck to his shirtless chest. He pulled each one off slowly with a sting that left red marks wherever the suckers had been and threw each one to the side.

Now that it was daytime, he surveyed his surroundings and could tell he was in deep trouble. The jungle was very dense, and it would be difficult for him to navigate without a cutting tool. He remembered the blade that he had tossed aside the river and scaled weakly down the bank to fetch it.

Luckily, the copper blade was still there. It was of medium size for Mich, perfectly sharp, and had a considerable weight to it considering its size. He placed the blade between his teeth and began scaling back up again. When he returned to the top, he started walking in the opposite direction of the river, slashing and cutting at vines and foliage that blocked his way. Several times, he would see blurs of animals jumping out of the foliage and running away.

The creatures in the jungles of Rashada all seemed very foreign to Mich. There was a yellow monkey-like creature that was swinging around vines above and seemed to be following Mich and looking at him with intent. He saw pinkish snakes, and multicolored birds flying about. He also saw a web with a spiderish creature the size of a small dog perched inside. He hoped he wouldn’t have an encounter with one of those.

Mich heard the sound of something running quickly towards him and froze, trying to figure out which direction it was coming from. Before he knew it, a short, plump, 4 legged creature jumped out of the foliage, looked at Mich, and snarled. It was similar to a huge pig but had two horns on its head, another on its nose, and had sharp straight tusks growing out of the sides of its mouth.

Mich stood in fear, holding the copper sword out in front of him in hopes he could do something with it if the creature attacked. The creature began stomping his leg into the ground swiftly, and let out a loud squeal. Mich quickly changed his mind and began to running as fast as he could.

He jumped over bushes, logs, and thick foliage as the creature was chasing him. While he was running, his makeshift bandage snagged onto a tiny branch that was protruding from his path and left a piece of fabric dangling in the air. In his weak state, he knew he couldn’t outrun the animal and saw a thick arm of a tree sticking out, just within his jumping reach. He dropped his blade to the ground just below the bottom of the tree and lept upwards to grab onto the branch, pulling his legs up with him in a circular motion.

The creature below him paced in a circle as if trying to figure out how to catch his prey, and then paused, raised its ears, and scurried off through the woods. Within seconds, Mich heard new noises coming from the direction from which he had ran.

“Rash amok ram dala maat,” a deep voice spoke.

Mich stood on the tree branch and clenched the side of the tree, trying to be as quiet as he could. The running had caused the pain in his wound to heighten, and he was trembling from the intensity of it all. Soon, he could see a group of 3 humanoids walking in his direction.

“Mee shuka ram dala,” another voice said.

The creatures had smooth, green skin and shaved heads, apart from a single, long black braid that extended from the very top of their heads and fell down their back. They were wearing brown fur boots, leather tunics and leather pants on their muscular bodies, and on their wrists were several golden-colored bracelets. The leader of the pack was slightly larger than the other two and was carrying a long, straight, pole in one hand and curved sword in the other. The two behind him were carrying oversized blackened bows in their hands, and they had similar curved swords strapped to their back.

The leader walked agilely through the woods as he was cutting foliage, and stopped periodically to listen to the sounds of the jungle. He moved closer and closer to the tree that Mich was standing on, and peered at a broken plant that Mich had chopped through earlier. His eyes scanned the woods, searching for the cause of the disruption.

“Ram–” One of the trackers tried to speak, but was immediately silenced as the leader raised his palms. He was clearly in control of the situation.

The leader pointed to some broken foliage and to something he saw on the ground then motioned for the two to continue following. As they continued, the leader soon came to the dangling piece of bloodied cloth that had torn from Mich’s waist. He looked at the soiled cloth from a couple of angles, touched the cloth, and then put his finger in his mouth. His eyes opened wider, and his brows arched. He raised his right arm, shook it in a side to side motion, then clenched his fist down furiously. The other two understood his direction, drew an arrow into their bows and started scanning for any sort of threat.

Mich wanted to hide, but there was no where he could go. If he jumped off of the tree it would easily draw their attention, and there were no other branches he could climb to. All he could do was wait in silence and hope that they didn’t notice him.

It wasn’t long before the trio was right at the foot of Mich’s hiding place and saw the copper sword protruding from the ground. The leader picked the copper sword up and began examining it when one of the others in the group yelled out, “Halamaaaa!” and pointed up towards Mich. All three looked up towards Mich with menacing eyes, and the two trackers with bows aimed their arrows directly at him.

“No, please… don’t shoot! I’m just passing through. I don’t know where I am,” Mich said with a shaky voice.

The leader looked curiously at Mich a few moments, raised his right fist, then slowly lowered it down. His companions slowly lowered their bows at the order.

“Come down, human,” the leader ordered in a strong, deep voice.

Mich slowly lowered himself down the tree and clenched the side of his stomach when his feet hit the ground. “Please, I just need to get home,” he begged.

The leader ignored the question. “Why are you here? It is not normal for humans to enter the jungle.”

“I was attacked and fell into the river. I managed to get out, but was chased by some monster pig and ended up in the tree.”

“You scared off the korg we’ve been tracking all morning.”

“I’m sorry. I just–”

“Step close to me, human,” the leader interrupted.

Mich looked anxiously at the leader and to his two minions who were glaring menacingly at him in the background. As he stepped into arm’s reach of the leader, the leader placed his hands out and began examining the wound on Mich’s stomach. He lifted the edge of Mich’s clotted shirt and glanced at the swollen slit.

“You’re hurt badly, human. If you do not attend to your wounds, you will die,” the leader said sternly. He paused for a moment to consider his next decision, but soon muttered, “Come with us…”

“Mwat Ral!” one of the other trackers began to yell in protest, but was quickly silenced when the leader raised his palm. The trio started heading deep into the woods and Mich following close behind.

“I thought Rashada was meant as a human sanctuary?” Mich asked the leader as he limped through the foliage.

“We have lived on Rashada for many thousands of years, long before the humans were brought here,” the leader replied. “Our presence is not widely known. We live as one with nature and rarely venture out of the wilderness. We refer to ourselves as miholo.”

“Why do you stay hidden?”

“We govern ourselves and are self-sufficient. We do not wish to follow the technological and economic systems that the rest of galaxy need to survive. We wish to preserve our language and our culture, while most other species have switched to speaking only English and following the rule of the Queen and the Council.”

It didn’t take long before Mich was too weak to stand on his own and had to be supported by on of the miholo’s the rest of the way. Once again, he could himself slowly fading, and the clotted wound had once again started leaking blood.

After several hours of walking, a tiny hut could be seen in the distance. It was made completely of hardened dirt and nudged in between two trees. A miholo man could be seen guarding the hut and looked in the distance of the approaching band.

“To the village, and gather the healing supplies,” the leader ordered the guard.

The guard looked at Mich curiously and then back to the leader of the band before turning and running quickly in the direction that the group was heading.