Chapter 2

Alan's story. how he got where he is now.

I grabbed my bag, which help my identification and stepped out on my new floor. The building was still empty. I looked at my clock and noticed it was barely 3 PM. The others were probably still in class. I locked my door and walked down the steps.

After stepping out of my building, I stared at my map, more lost than I ever felt. I folded into in four and shoved it in my back pocket. Explorers didn’t need maps. I chuckled at my childish thoughts. Walking down the empty streets was strange. I felt like in a ghost town, no one in the stores, no one in the parks or no one in the windows. Only the few adults holding the stores open could be seen moving inside the shops. I was the odd ball out, yet again.

I decided to keep going straight for today, so that I could always turn around and find my house again. I found a couple places that I marked on a map that I drew myself. There was an ice cream store, that only sold fat free vanilla ice cream with no topping, and a library filled with school books (you could only rent the ones that were related to your classes. I am in no classes so far, so no books for me!). I had also found an empty park that was made out of plastic green grass. At the end of my walk, I found a boardwalk. It looked extremely damaged and worn down. I decided to venture myself on it. I could hear the cracking of the planks under my feet, and I had this uneasy feeling about every step I took. Finally arriving at the end of my little promenade by the side of a dune, I saw an entrance and some sand. I turned the corner to see a beach filled with sea weed. It has been obvious that no one had come here in ages. I stepped in the sand, feeling the ocean breeze on my face. I took a deep breath and let the cold air rush through my lungs, clearing all my thoughts. For a moment, I felt like a bird flying through the sky. Free as I ever been, ready to fly home and care for Baby Agnes and Little Timothy, and Ma’ and Da’. I opened my eyes, and my heart dropped inside my chest. I was still on the little beach, in front of the water. My feeling was gone as fast as it arrived. I sighed again and let myself fall to the ground, sitting down in front of the vast emptiness.

I wanted to swim away, swim as fast as I could, be anywhere else than here, where I felt alone. I laid down and watch the clouds go by, waiting for a sign to point me in a new direction.

I actually fell asleep. I woke up much later when I had turned on my side and was eating sand. I got up and whipped my mouth, even more confused. This was the second time I woke up in a strange environment today. I walked back to the wooden walkway and back into the city. It was slightly livelier this time. A couple students were still in their uniform, sitting in the grass, still reading their books. There was a couple sitting at a table at the ice cream store. They seemed to be in some kind of debate, both very serious. I entered the restaurant, hoping to make some friends. I heard my fat free vanilla ice cream and sat down two seats away from them. I could over hear them talk about the Russian revolution. The girl seemed to be very firm about her opinion; she was for the Russian revolution. She argued that it freed the people, and that it helped the country grow. The young boy was a good listener, but you could tell by his facial expression that he was disagreeing with her. Suddenly the girl hit her fist against the table, and got up her seat. Before she could place another word, the man behind the counter rushed to her and grabbed both her wrists, quickly tying them together. He murmured a couple words in her ear and she stopped moving and fighting. She looked deep into my eyes, sending distress signals. I rushed to her, to help her get out.

“Don’t try to play Prince Charming, 487. Go back to your apartment and finish the list we gave you.” The adult quickly said to me before I could even open my mouth.

I was dumbfounded. How did he know about my list? And 487? I pulled out my wallet and noticed the number under my name. 487. I was a prisoner after all.

“You’ll get use to it.”

The boy brought me back from my disturbing thoughts. I wasn’t sure if he meant the incident I just witnessed or my new name. He wiped his hand on his dress pants and extended his hand.

“352. Or Frederick Huyatt.”

I shook his hand and he turned back to his ice cream, mashing it into liquid.

“I am actually Alan Kaygo.”

He nodded and patted the seat next to mine. I sat next to him and cleared my throat, trying to break the silence.

“Where did they take her?” I pointed to the door, picturing her in a hole, or at the Mayor’s office.

“At the police station. Most likely getting treatment.” He brought a spoonful of melted vanilla ice cream to his lips and slurped it.

I frowned, confused. He sighed and looked around.

“All of us went to treatment at least once in our life. They basically attach wires to your brain, get you angry and ZAP!” His hand flickered in my face as he made his fingers wiggle. I nodded.

“Most of learn not to get pissed in this environment, or to break the rules. Julie, or 255 doesn’t.” He went on, shaking his head, and stared at the adult that just walked in the shop, replacing the previous one.

“I better go and study. Nice meeting you 487!” He shook my head again, this time his sweat remained on mine.

“Bye…” I had already forgotten his number. I threw away my ice cream and walked out the glass door. As I was walking up the street back to my apartment, I tried to recall every event today, and things to do from my list.

I had no intentions in staying here, or get electrocuted. I wanted to have a nice behavior and get out to return to my family. I opened my door, entering my floor, still as quiet as I left it. I unlocked my apartment and walked in, dropping my back pack to the same spot as earlier today. I let myself fall on the couch.

He took the remote and turned on the TV. There was a programming about the laws here at TestTown. I flipped to the next channel which was on how to be a good citizen. I clicked the remote again, and again, and again to find myself in front of educational channels. Nothing to relax to. I turned off the TV and threw the remote to the ground, suddenly remembering the event that happened earlier today with Julie. I gulped and pick up the remote nicely, putting it on the coffee table.

I stared at the ceiling, counting my breaths when I heard my stomach growl. I remembered that I hadn’t eaten today. I got up and walked toward the kitchen. Opened the fridge expecting it to be full, instead I found myself confronted with the same steak, green beans and celery as this morning.

I grabbed a celery stick and the peanut butter jar, and added the peanut butter on the vegetable. This was going to be my dinner. I had no desire to eat pre-cooked meat, and green beans.

I sat back down on my couch, and munched on my poorly constructed dinner. I took out my map, and finished drawing it, adding on the beach.

Chewing on my pen, I couldn’t help but picture Julie hooked on to the electrodes and being shocked every few minutes. What kind of place was this? Where torturing children was okay?

Since it seemed I had nothing to do, I opened my suitcase in the hope to but my clothes away. My luggage was empty. My clothes, my cigarettes, my books, everything was gone. There was a note taped in the inside. “Smoking is bad.” Underneath was a couple statistics about the deadly relationship between cigarettes and cancer. I bit my top lip, ready to throw the bag across the room.

All of my ambitions to be a good citizen were gone. I just wanted to hurt, like I had on that fateful night. I wanted to grab someone and smash their head into the pavement, watching the blood dripping from his white face. The blood always made a pattern on the street, trying to spell something me. Maybe a thank you? My hands were already curled into fists, ready for battle. I looked down, and try to count my breaths, to calm down. Images came back to my memory. The victim begging for mercy, my hands around its head, his bones being crushed by the impact on the cement. I smiled and shook my head, getting rid of those horrifying flashbacks. I, now, could hear his screams, and the thud his head would make, and finally the silence.

I remember why I had picked him too. Abusing his daughters. He had hit all three of his daughters, once too many times. I could see them on my way from the park, through the windows. On night, I stayed in front of his house, and noticed his nightly routine. Most fathers would go from room to room to kiss their children good night, tuck them in bed and read them a children’s story. Not him. He went from room to room and slapped, kicked and pushed his daughters. The oldest always suffered the most, while the toddler would usually just get a slap on her bottom. I watched this madness occur, feeling helpless. The girls wiping their tears mixed with blood at times, hiding their bruises with makeup, praying to God. His wife was downstairs, cleaning the dishes acted as nothing was wrong. What a family.

I finally met the oldest daughter one day. She was at the market, shopping for groceries. I casually made conversation and learned her name. Rosalie. I smiled at her and promised her she will have a good day today. That night, I called their home and asked to see the man of the household outside. He came out, proud, threw his cigarette to the ground and asked what I needed.

I launched at him.

Reviews

[Jenny DelVecchio]

interesting. I like the whole "he's more than just a thug" thing. i cant wait to read more