It’d been two days since anyone had seen or heard from Twigs. A day since Spider sent Axle and Wrench out lookin’ for him. Another two days before Spider intended on leading his tribe out of Seattle.
Only last week, he and Rat had made a pact to bring their tribes together and head north in hopes of escaping the madness that was slowly taking hold of the city. With some of the tribes beginning to hunt down and eat each other, it was like pouring kerosene on an airstream bus with nothing left but half an ass. A single spark…and whoosh, nothing left.
Spider knew it was only a matter of weeks, maybe even days.
Twenty years ago (just after the first Lady was found at 3:00AM, running across the White House lawn in nothing but her husband’s swimming trunks, carrying the torso of a female mannequin yelling, “Someone, please help me save the children.”) President Sousa declared all US citizens to be nothing more than illegal immigrants, and as such, given thirty days in which to leave its borders.
Within two weeks WWIII broke out. It hadn’t taken more than a year before all that was left of one of the wealthiest nations on the planet, were bombed out cities, and crazy, starving people. And the worst of the devastation hadn’t been limited to just the US. The fallout went worldwide with people of every nation rising up to overthrow their own governments.
While Spider waited to hear back from his lieutenants, he thought back over recent rumors about creatures hiding out in the Underground, luring tribal member’s into manholes with food. So far, more than ten kids had gone missing within the last two weeks.
He could feel the anger start; his sense of responsibility over the other’s something he considered sacred; as though he’d been chosen by God. He should have never let Twigs go out on patrol. With this new threat, it’d be safer sucking the brains out of an alligator’s snout, than stayin’ one more day here and becoming food for the others.
The sound of running feet reached him moments before a boy, not much older than Twigs, came bursting into the tribal leaders nest.
Giving the boy a moment to catch his breath, Spider swallowed past his fear and asked, “Did you find him?”
Suddenly trickles of water began to slip down dirty freckled cheeks. Wrench shook his head no.
The sound of plastic, gripped between fingers caught Spider’s attention. Looking down at the half eaten bag of Oreo’s, he felt the fear give way to anger. Cutting his eyes back to Wrench’s he growled, “And Axle”?
Spider was suddenly robbed of the ability to breath.
Holding the bag where Spider could see it, “A trap. The thing laid these cookies right next to a manhole…Axle said he was faster than me…he’d be able to get the cookies without getting caught.”
“And” Spider asked, beginning to feel sick.
“No point in wasting good cookies.”(c)
Copyright: The Remnant; SSpjut;Shawn Y. Spjut; Shawn Y. Gooding; 2012