124 was spiteful. The spite like bile, a secretion passed from inmate to inmate changing humours into aggression and depression equally. He was a rotten black clot in the centre of a moving cell of inmates. I hadn’t been here a day and already I knew the lines of power and control. I watched him ooze towards a skinny kid, dragging his clot of followers in a viscous grume.
The kid still had artfully torn jeans, name brand hoody and high tops, looking like he had just come off campus. Due to the fast round up and quick dump at the internment camp he hadn’t been relieved of his possessions but that lapse was about to be rectified.
“Give me the shoes and hoody kid” 124 growled.
The kid shrunk back. Huddling in upon himself, the blistering 272 on his face red and angry, eyes hopelessly blank.
124 spat out the order to his followers. “Strip him.”
As a few of his followers surrounded 272, hands grasping greedily at the bounty of unworn clothing, 124’s eyes went to the next victim of his absorbing hunger for power and ownership of this festering hole of a quarantine camp.
His next victim an older woman; 237 branded in the wrinkled skin of her face, left eye half closed with the swelling. She exuded a sense of erosion; she should have been in her tidy bungalow waiting for her grandchildren to come visit. Instead she was bundled up and deposited in the bleak internment camp.
124’s lip curled. ‘Well granny, what are you offering for a safe place to sleep?”
I really wanted her to snap out a response in that older female voice of control, but the trauma of collection had been too much. Like her wrinkled skin her spirit had crumpled into soft folds and tears seeped down her face.
“‘Take her to the kitchen, she can work her keep there.” He ordered. A woman exuded out of his clot and grabbed the 237’s arm pulling her towards the other side of the camp.
The air inside the compound was acrid with anger and bitterness. Bile and hatred threaded through the harsh smell and taste that filled my mouth and nasal cavity. My turn was coming, as 124 moved his way through the new comers. I stayed at the back, near the wall, watching under my fringe as he weeded out the crop. All too soon he arrived in front of me.
“Well, well, well. What have we got here?” He spaced out the words in a theatrical voice.
“Hey boys, I know what we can do with this one.” He chortled.
The clot around him rippled as the women moved towards the centre and the males transuded out. The acrid scent thickened as I stared through my fringe at 124’s lust filled face. I saw his eyes tracing the number branded on my left cheek bone 214. His hands reached towards me; as his fingers grazed my arm I blurred into action and 124 ended up face down, my knee in his back arm wrenched up behind him, my knife, Lucy, gently resting on his jugular.
“Back off unless you want him dead.’ I hissed at his followers.
When they didn’t move I pressed down with Lucy until a thin rivulet of blood trickled down his neck. Leaning forward putting more pressure on his arm and along Lucy’s blade I whispered. “Looks like they want you dead 124, the time has come to talk of many things. Do you want to die? If not, tell them to back off. If you do it would be my gift to you.”
I could feel his anger like a pressure pot building. “Back off” he growled.
The clot moved back. I ran my tongue along his ear and pressed Lucy a little harder causing more blood to trickle down his neck.
“We are getting up now and we’re going to have a little chat.”
I thanked all the years of gymnastics and martial art training that allowed me to maintain my hold on arm and knife and managing to get upright with a deadweight. As soon as his feet were under him I could feel the coiling of muscles. He was going to retaliate. I shoved him forward into his clot while lightly drawing Lucy along the skin of his neck. Bright red blood bloomed. As he turned towards me I licked my tongue along Lucy’s blade.
“Fucking, crazy bitch.” 124 yelled clutching his hand to his neck.
I stared at him through my fringe, resting Lucy’s bloodied blade against my lips. “What have I got to offer? “ I asked.
I tilted my head at 124 and his clot. Smiled and whispered “Death.”
I could see 124 wanted to sic his followers onto me.
I licked my lips, “Plague death outside, Lucy’s death inside.“ I sing song the words.
“Leave me the fuck alone and I’ll leave you alone.” I snarled as I pushed myself back against the wall.
I knew I would have problems, there would be a co
meback but I had no intention of hanging around. While I was here I would keep Lucy close and sleep lightly.
Throughout the day I watched the clot move around the internment camp. I watched the soldiers in their towers at each corner of the
camp and I knew I had to get out of there. I h
ad a plan. I held the locket in my hand, without opening it I could picture her face. My heart and soul were already in the hands of an angel, my redeemer. She was waiting for me and I had to get to her.
No-one would hold me; not the Government with their branding of survivors and putting them into internment camps. No-one would ever own me certainly not spite filled 124, self styled lord of the internment camp. My hand curled around the locket, no-one would relieve me of the last essence I still held that would lead me to my beloved.
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