Between Men & Brothers

Life in the heart of Scientia was a shithole. It made me ashamed to say I was ever proud to be a citizen of the League. Couldn’t really be sure I ever was. League life ain’t something to be proud of, really. At least living where I did. Province K, Sector 01. Looked different from lots of the other places, but it wasn’t. Sure, there was dirt, and everyone lived out in shacks, not much civilization. There were a hell of a lot of Tornados. Had lots of those. Twisters had a whole season, far as we were concerned. Used to stock up on food when it got hot and dry. Ma stocked ‘em ceiling high in our cellar, case we ever had to hide down there. Happened once a year at least, and that’s if we got lucky.

2038 was lucky so far. Hadn’t seen any signs, so the house was left in tact. Didn’t need to climb up on the roof to nail the shingles back down yet this year. Ma always told my brothers to do it, but I was eleven. I was the youngest. Ain’t nothing I could do about being bossed around. That’s just how it was. Living in my house with all seven of my siblings was rough and tumble. Had to fight for food all the time, but you could get away with murder ‘round there. Too many kids for just Ma and her husband to chase after all of us and keep tabs. Skipping school was pretty frequent.

My best friend, Macy, and I did it twice a month at least. Left home with our backpacks full of nothing but cigarettes and whiskey and high-tailed it down to the parking lot of Liberty Markets. Nobody there gave a shit and a half ‘bout what you did. Didn’t matter to them that kids were outta school, boozin’, hangin’ with the kids that ain’t got no homes, or food, or families. We weren’t nothing to marvel at. They’d go in and out, leavin’ us alone for the most part.

Macy and I sat there on a parking block, smoking cigarettes and watching the only bus in Sector 01 roll on by. People with their groceries got on. Some got off and went inside the market. None of ‘em said a word. None of ‘em paid us no mind. Just sat. Watchin’ smoke blow out our mouths.

“Macy,” I said, tapping my smoke and lettin’ the ashes crumble on the cement. “Don’t you ever wonder if there’s somethin’ better out there?”

“Better than here?” she asked, looking at me with her brown eyes wide, eyebrows furrowing. “Casper, we got it great here. Nothin’ to worry about. Got our families. Got food. It’s good enough.”

“Naw,” I told her, shaking my head adamantly. “Ain’t ever gonna be good enough. Not this piece of shit town. Y’know, I seen the news, Mace. I hear they got these great cities out there, out in the northeast and the southwest. Out where the government is. People say it ain’t ever dark over there. And they ain’t got twisters or nothin’.”

Suddenly, her face lit up, and she leaned over a little. “Really?” she asked in awe. “Not even twisters?”

“You heard,” I replied. “I wanna go. I’m gonna get there some day, and you’re gonna come with me.”

She thought that was a real joke. Thought it was funny. She laughed, “That’s funny, Cas. Real funny.”

“I’m not kiddin’, Macy,” I insisted, sitting forward and throwing the filter of my burnt up cigarette on the ground. “We’re gonna go.”

“How we gonna go there?” she asked. “That costs money, and we ain’t got none of that.”

“I’ll find money,” I said. “We gotta get away from this place. Ain’t nothin’ good left here.”

“Don’t you care about your ma?” Macy seemed confused.

“Well, yeah.” Yeah, I’d miss Ma. That was about it. “But I can write Ma. Ma’s always gonna be there, even if she’s not there, y’know what I’m sayin’?”

Macy shook her head.

Sighing, I decided to give up on that one for the time being. I’d come back to that later. Leaving town at eleven was a long-shot, but not at twelve. At twelve I could go to work if I wanted. Could get a job. Could get money.

When I was twelve, I was gonna get outta here, no matter what it took.