The Lost Ones by Carl Lakeland

The Lost Ones by Carl Lakeland

Author:Carl Lakeland
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Carl Lakeland
Published: 2019-03-01T00:00:00+00:00


Chapter Sixteen: They Can Go and Eat Themselves

ENTRY 738

On the outside of the compound, us droppers were detailed to clean up the mess. Picking up body parts wasn’t what I had on my wish list for the day. But instead of burying or burning the Takers’ remains, Seth chose to have everything placed in containers and stored in deep freeze. The thing was, I couldn’t have cared less even if we were going to grind those body parts into a powder and use them as blood and bone fertilizer. But then I realized Seth planned to put the body parts in with the next export of dead droppers, so the Takers can literally go and eat themselves. A bit of poetic justice if that was the case. The sad thing was, I’d never know what the outcome would be.

As I bent over the huge trough that held the Taker grossness, one my chain members tapped me on the back. He pushed his finger up to his lips in a sign of ‘shush.’ It was a little odd knowing we couldn’t form or mouth verbal words even if we needed to, but that was beside the case. It was his way of warning me to be quiet because our gang master had his back turned and he was just a little beyond the range of quiet noises.

My chain member held out his hand, and in it, was a key. It was the key that can set all of us droppers free.

I signed to him, “Where in the heck did you get that?”

He signed back, “I picked Murk’s pocket.”

“Shit!” I signed. “He’ll know soon enough. We’re all gonna die.”

My dropper friend just shook his head slightly and smiled. His hands were already unchained. Without any further delay, he pushed the key into my hand and he took off. I thought I was a fast runner. This guy ran like the wind. It was then I realized why he took off in a big hurry. Murk gave chase. Murk didn’t have a weapon. They don’t give out weapons to gang masters, simply because there’s not enough to go around. So, on foot, our sixth dropper was gone, and with big Murk chasing him down.

I saw the opportunity. I didn’t waste my time. The key in my hand found my lock and I was free. The other droppers? Who gave a shit? I gave them the key. I was outta there!

I ran as hard as I could go, back toward the west. But it wasn’t long before my malnutrition caught up with me and running at full force slowed to an uneven non-rhythmical lollop. But I was by this time far enough away that I wasn’t able to be seen by the other Newmaners, or the other gangs of droppers who were always on work detail outside the compound.

Now was the time to get back into survival mode. It was still full sunlight. And one of the things I never do is walk the wasteland while I can see things at any distance.



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