In honor of Frozen's first Halloween, I'd like to share with you the first chapter. Now that you're finished passing out or collecting candy, kick you feet up and join Verick as he prepares for his first trick or treat.
Signoff
Earth as we knew it is no
more. We, the humans of the planet, that once supported over nine million
species and a luscious array of plants have fallen victim to an alien race. The
Great Takeover, led by the xecerptavode (ex-serp-ta-void) has ravished our
world, draining all fresh water and causing the entire earth’s surface to be
fused into one giant mass.
With the awareness of life
on other planets, we reached out for help, yet no one has come. The
xecerptavode have now destroyed the technology that our race has come to rely
on, and millions have died. We humans who remain have been forced to live in
destitute conditions.
We, the United Nations, air this
final broadcast to those few who are still able to listen, with heavy hearts. The
people of Earth have stood proud, shown one another that all differences could
be put aside for a better cause, and fought a battle that was not ours to win.
With our last address, we, the survivors of the planet formerly known as earth,
vow to remember the past, fight to exist in the present, and seek future
salvation.
1
My heart thrashes in time
with my feet pounding across the cold hard ground. I can’t run any faster,
longer, and yet I must. My life and my family’s survival depends on it. Every
day for the past month, Dad has insisted that I train, push my body to its
limits.
‘It’s life or death out
there. You have to be quick, nimble, and think with a clear head. Move your
ass, Verick!’
Those were his encouraging
words as I set off for the afternoon run to History. The History structure is
located on the far end of our slum, set on a barren dirt hill. All children from
the ages of six to seventeen attend lectures during the afternoon hours, while
it is too warm to tend to our families’ underground farms. As my muscles begin
to cramp, and I wonder if my heart is about to explode out of my chest, the
building’s mud-crusted peak appears.
I’m not the only one who must work on
quickening their step. Fellow boys and girls of my age are also running as if
their lives depend on it. My name is Verick Cedar. I reside on the planet
formerly known as Earth. I’m of age this year, so it will soon be the first
time I’m allowed to participate in the food and materials scavenge. They say
that many years ago, before my great, great, great, great grandparents were
born, the young at heart and kids of all ages celebrated Halloween. On October
the thirty-first of every year, people would dress up in costumes either to
party with friends or to go door to door and collect candi from neighbors. Candi,
what a foreign name. It’s unknown to our generation, but from what I’ve been
told, it holds an alluring sweetness. After The Great Takeover, the production
of any sustenance not needed for survival was unnecessary, and therefore halted.
Although the joyfulness of Halloween is extinct, the premise of collection, or
‘Trick or Treat,’ remains. Halloween is now a day for obtaining provisions to
support our family throughout the year.
Next week is All Hallows’
Eve and my father is depending on me; I see it in his gaze. Still, instead of
pushing myself just a little farther—it’s only half a mile until I reach the
learning structure—I slow my pace and drop the three sacks filled with rocks and
dirt to the ground. There’s a jaw-clamping thud as the one hundred or so pounds
of weight slips from my hands.
‘That sounded heavy. How
much did your dad make you carry today’’?’With my hands resting on my knees, I
glance up to find Maille Dryden, also trying to catch her breath.
‘It’s about one hundred
pounds’ I say between labored breaths.
‘Wow, and you ran all the
way from your house? There’s no way I would’ve made it.’ Maille drops her sack
to the ground next to mine, and I suspect the contents weigh about a quarter of
my burden.
‘Depending on what we find next week, Uncle
Etan claims I could be carrying more than this home,’’ I say once my lungs
finally stop burning. As I stand up, I spot my grandfather and a few other Historians
waiting in the doorway of the History building. I’m going to have to start
moving again if I don’t want to be late for his lecture.
‘Verick, do you need help
lugging those?’ My attention shifts back to Maille. She’s wearing the standard
gray tunic, brown pants, and lace up boots. Her brown hair is pulled into a
ponytail, and she (as I’m sure I am too) is covered in dirt from working on the
farms.
‘Thanks, but I can manage.’
She chuckles when I hesitate before grabbing the sacks. Before I can stop her,
Maille snatches one of my bags along with hers and starts to walk. She gives a
small grunt and heaves the two sacks over her shoulders. I do the same and move
quickly to keep step with her. We don’t speak as we trudge up the hill. Maybe
it’s because we have nothing to say. Or, perhaps, it’s because this is a little
out of character for Maille and the silence soothes her. She typically has her
head down and keeps to herself. That is, unless we are alone.
I’ve known Maille my whole
life, yet, I’m not sure how to define our relationship. Many in our slum
believe that Maille’s family is cursed. Multiple births have occurred on her
mother’s side for years. Maille has younger twin sisters, twin uncles, and I
believe a few twin cousins. Some families feel that with the conditions in
which we live, having to rear more than one infant at a time can be detrimental
to a household. Parents warn their sons to stay away from Maille, and girls
spread rumors that being too close to her can bring the curse upon other
females. The Cedar family, on the other hand, is one of the longest-standing
members of this slum. Although we do not have government, as this planet once
did, my father’s parents are considered elite among the area and believe that we—the
Cedar family—should treat all humans equally. Maille is fun to hang around so
it doesn’t bug me if others see us together.
The sundial indicates that
we have made it to History right on time. Grandfather gives me a concerned look
as I let the bags once again drop from my shoulders, and drag them across the
threshold. I don’t think the extra weight worries him. I believe the impending
doom of All Hallows’ Eve has caused him to frown. He lost his youngest son on
my uncle’s first Halloween scavenge. A sigh slips from his lips and he runs his
weathered hands through his silver hair before following us inside. He and Dad
are heavy-footed, and each step he takes echoes through the long noisy hall.
We pass the first three
archways that hold the younger pupils and enter the last room on the right.
Maille nudges me and hands over my third sack before edging her way to the back
of the room. I glide to the front table that seats eight and take a seat. My
feet push the rocks and dirt under the table just as Sadie Mills sits next to
me.
Her slender arm snakes
around mine and she leans in and says ‘‘‘Hi, Verick’’.’
I try not to wiggle out of her grasp. My arms
are still aching from my run. ‘‘Hey, Sadie.’’ I give her a tight smile and she
scowls and lets go.
‘You have dirt all over
your face. Would it kill you to wash up a little before coming to History?’ As
she speaks, Sadie stretches out her arm and examines her clothes for dirt.
Sadie is the youngest of four and the only girl. The Mills family is in charge
of keeping the kilns fuelled to purify our water for the farm irrigation
system.
If I make it through the collection
in the coming year, I will be able to start the tradition of picking a
wife--courting and wedding her by my eighteenth birthday. According to Sadie,
she has already picked where we will build our house. I’m not sure what worries
me more: the possibility of dying next week, or being Sadie’s husband. She’s of
age this year, but her father feels the world outside of the slum is no place
for his little girl. As Grandfather starts his lecture—something about these
things once called airocrafts—I try
to pay attention. He has a tendency to call on me, yet my mind wanders to next
week. Only Dad, Uncle Etan, and I will make the voyage. Grandfather has not
participated in Halloween since the night he lost his youngest son. When I was
younger, my parents would go out while my grandparents stayed at home with me.
Now that my little cousin Aiden, and sisters Thea and Rylee are here, mom, Aunt
Ella, and my grandparents will watch over them when we scavenge for supplies.
My stomach muscles tighten
and I wrap my arms around my waist to keep from doubling over. The air in the
room is thick and dry. I try to swallow and it feels like stones are being
forced down my throat. Like most buildings, the History structure has but few
windows. They’re a pain to open and, truthfully, there isn’t much point in
doing so during the day since there is little wind. Sadie raises an eyebrow at
my current sitting position.
‘Did you eat before
lecture?’ she whispers.
I shake my head in response. Towards the end
of each year, food is sparse. The fruits we grow have to be rationed and all
meat collected from the previous year is either gone or spoiled. Tonight, like
every night for the last two months, we will be dining on stone soup.
History is shortened in
the days before Halloween to give families time to prepare and, in some cases,
say goodbye. Those younger pupils who are not of age linger and ask Grandfather
questions about his lesson—they find it hard to believe that humans owned such
contraptions that enabled them to fly. We who still need to train grab our
sacks, boulders and whatever other heavy items our parents have given us and
make our way outside. I spot Maille’s brunette ponytail swooshing back and
forth, as she begins to jog toward her house. She is always easy to spot since
she seems to part the crowd of kids like the seas as she walks by.
‘Verick, walk me home.’ Sadie’s
voice pulls my attention to her. Her sky-blue eyes sparkle in the sun. She may
not be filthy like the rest of us, but small beads of sweat glisten her
forehead and the front of her green dress shows wet marks—she only wears
dresses. Sadie’s midnight-black hair appears to be wet as it hangs straight
down her back past her hips.
‘I don’t think I should today,’ I say, and
lift my three sacks in emphasis. ‘Dad will be waiting for me. We need to start
carving the jack-o-lanterns tonight.’
A pout crosses her small
lips and she rests her hands on her hips.
‘Verick Cedar, people
would think you want to have nothing to do with me. I ask nothing of you but a
simple walk home. I believe your dad would understand.’
I open my mouth then close it. Thankfully,
Sadie has once again caused a scene and one of her admirers steps forward.
‘I’ve no problem walking
with you, Sadie,’ Jack Brooks says as he slips between us. The Brooks family
maintains the forage yard. Unused metal and other household items can be found
there. Couples, upon getting married, will roam the yard for objects to help
fill their new home. Jack looks much like his older brother, and my good
friend, Pelham, with blond hair, and gray eyes. The three of us are all about
the same height. Jack and I have never been close even though we are the same
age. Sadie looks from Jack to me and a devilish smile crosses her face.
‘Thank you, Jack,’ she
purrs. Are you sure it won’t be too far out your way? I wouldn’t want to get
you in trouble with your dad.’ Her blue eyes flash something evil and I cringe.
‘Any trouble would be
worth it.’’ The smile Jack displays is unnerving and I try to ignore his elbow
pushing me out the way. I believe it’s best for me to leave now. If Jack hadn’t
stepped up, I could count at least four other guys who would have been happy to
replace me. Side-stepping Jack’s elbow before it becomes permanently attached
to my body, I say, ‘Well, now that that’s settled, I should probably be going.’
I hoist my burden back on to my shoulders and take off running, leaving Sadie
no time to change her mind
In the children’s books Thea and Rylee read,
it’s claimed that once upon a time, ample trees and bushes graced this planet.
The stories talk of lush foliage that at this time of year would turn pretty
shades of red, orange, yellow, and brown. After the fresh water dried up, most
vegetation died. Due to the xecerptavode’s chemical makeup, our atmosphere has
been altered, resulting in an end to precipitation. Other than the plants that
can survive on salt water—which are very few—you cannot find a single shrubbery
in sight.
Besides the cracked soil,
I have nothing to look at as I make my way home. Every so often, I do catch a
glimpse of other runners. Dad must hear my footsteps as I near the house. His
head pops out of the earth as he exits the underground farm. Mom claims I look
like him. We both have green eyes and the same shade of reddish-blond hair. A
few gourds are the next to pop out of the hole. Uncle Etan must still be down
there. Dad gives me a stern glare before reaching down and plucking the newest
harvest from my uncle’s hands. I feel lightheaded as I come to a stop. For the
last time today, I drop the rock and dirt-filled sacks to the ground. They can
stay there all night for all I care. Stretching, I want nothing more than to go
to bed. I hope Dad won’t add any more weight tomorrow.
I can’t show dad how winded I am, so instead
of collapsing to the ground and puking, I walk over and remove the pumpkins
from his grasp. I hope he doesn’t notice my hands shaking. I lied to Sadie.
Yes, the gourds are ready to be carved, but Dad feels the innards come out
easier if they are left in the sun for a day. We will not start cutting the
jack-o-lanterns until tomorrow night. It will take days of preparation to carve
the jack-o-lanterns for every window ledge and doorframe for the three
households. All of the pumpkin innards will be stored for the celebration feast
upon our safe arrival home.
Against the house, where
the sun seems to shine the longest during the day, I find Dad has laid out
dried seaweed for the pumpkins to rest on. As I set the gourds down, a
high-pitched squeal comes from around the house. Rylee, four years old and the
youngest of my two sisters comes running from the front of the house. ‘Verick!
Verick, look what I found.’
Her blonde wavy hair bounces with each step
she takes. I kneel to her level and hold my hand out for the shiny object she
is so excited to show me. Taking the purple rock out of her hand, I examine it.
It’s something from the old world, a small bit of material that probably held
some sort of value or allurement to the owner. MADE IN CHINA is imprinted on
it. I wonder if the ground we stand on was once China.
‘Wow, where did you find
this?’ She and I have a rock collection. I believe only half the collectibles
are really rocks, but since Rylee began helping to add to the group, the
definition of rock is being used loosely. She grins and points to the open
space out past the house.
‘I was chasing Thea over
there when I tripped. That’s when I found this!’ Her small fingers jut out and
stroke the rock. ‘Mom let me clean it up to make it even prettier while she
fixed my leg.’ We both glance at her knee. The scraped skin is an angryred and
there are still traces of dried blood.
‘Are you okay?’
‘Yes. Mom kissed it too.’
‘Really now? And did she
do as good a job as me?’
Rylee giggles and leans against me and says, ‘I
think so, but you can kiss it too. I think it will make it feel even better.’
We laugh, my parents, uncle and I, before I
make sure Rylee’s knee receives all the necessary attention needed for it to
heal.
When I finish playing
healer, I slip the rock into my pocket for safe keeping and Thea, my shy
five-year-old sister, steps forward.
‘Verick, Maizey was hurt
today, too. Can you fix her?’
Thea’s bright red ringlet
hair and deep green eyes make her stand out among the family—she hates the
attention she receives for her locks. She holds up the doll I made for her out
of an old corn stalk. One of the arms is bent at a weird angle and the other
one is snapped off. Maizey’s neck also looks broken and only a few strands of
her silk hair remain. I take the stalk and examine it closer. I’ll have to make
her a new one.
‘Thea, I think Maizey is a
goner.’
As I speak her eyes water and her bottom lip
trembles. To keep her from crying, I speak faster, ‘I’ll make a new one tomorrow.’
Dad clears his throat and I have to rethink my promise. ‘‘‘Maybe not tomorrow,
can I do it next week?’ I might have misspoken again. What if next week, after
Halloween doesn’t come for me? I’ll have to find time between training, and
preparation of All Hallows’ Eve to make the doll for her—just in case I don’t
make it. I sense this option doesn’t suit her either but she nods and reaches
for the damaged toy.
‘Can I have Maizey back
for now?’
‘Sure,’ I say and hand it
over before standing.
My body aches in protest
as I come to my full height. Mom’s brown eyes catch mine, and she smiles. She
has had little to say over the last few days. I see the stress is wearing on
her. Mom’s usually curly blonde hair lays lifeless and matted. The bags under
her eyes seem to grow darker every day, and I believe her clothes are fitting
even more loosely on her already slim body. At night, I hear Dad and her
arguing over the pending scavenge. She feels sixteen is way too young and I
should wait another year. She knows I’m inspecting her appearance.
In an attempt to divert my attention, Mom
claps her hands and says, ‘‘‘Okay, I’m going to finish dinner. Thea, Rylee, I
need you to wash up. Guys, are you almost finished out here?’’’
She tries to keep the
strain out of her voice but I notice Dad flinch before looking in my uncle’s
direction.
‘Etan, I think we have
everything we need for the night. Let’s drop the gourds and the crib off at the
Brooks’ farm before calling it a night.’
Uncle Etan nods. He’s a
man of few words. He and Mom don’t look alike. Instead of curly blond hair, my
uncle’s is dark brown and straight. His eyes are light gray and his nose is
wider than Mom’s. Everyone claims he is a replica of his father. I wouldn’t
know, since he passed before I was born.
‘Verick, go with your
uncle to grab the crib.’ Of course, he’s giving me the heavy lifting. Aiden has
outgrown the crib and it’s time to return it to the scavenge yard, since our
houses are not big enough to hold unused items.
‘Dinner will be ready when
you get back,’Mom calls as she ushers my sisters into the house.
The crib isn’t as heavy as
I expected, but the oblong shape makes it hard for one person to carry.
Thankfully, because I’m walking backwards, we aren’t running to our location.
Last week, Dad and I traded a few fruits for a container of salt and he
wouldn’t allow us to walk. He seemed to enjoy me gasping for air and added an
extra loop around the house for good measure. The Brooks’ farm is only a few
miles away from our home so we make it in no time. Pelham’s aunt greets us and
takes the gourds from Dad. The pumpkins are part of the taxes we pay to have
use of the scavenge yard.
‘‘Hey, Daron, Etan, Verick’
Mr. Brooks calls from somewhere in the yard.
As we move forward, we
find his massive frame hunched over a long brown object. I believe it is a
piece of driftwood—wood of any kind is very rare. It could be said that the
wood is priceless. The only use I can think of is a grave marker.
‘Is that the crib? It’s in
better condition than I thought. Pelham, come have a look at this!’ My good
friend trots from another unpredictable hiding place and grins when he sees me.
‘Hey, Red, how are you?’
He’s called me that since
we were kids. He shakes Dad’s hand, and then he slaps my uncle and me on our
shoulders before inspecting the makeshift infant bed. Pelham is recently
married and he and his wife have their first child on the way. We set the bed
down and the men wander away talking, leaving Pelham and me alone.
‘You sure you don’t want
to hold on to this crib. You and Sadie may need it soon,’’’ he laughs.
‘Right, not funny,’ I say.
‘Are you ready, to be a dad?’
Pelham runs his dirty
hands through his hair and thinks long about the question. Sighing he says, ‘I’m
more prepared to face Halloween. I at least kind of know what to expect with
that.’
His answer is unsettling.
Maybe I’m thinking about this Halloween thing all wrong.
‘Out there I know I’m
facing a pending doom and I may not make it. A baby, I have no idea how or what
to anticipate.’
While I digest his words,
we stand out in the dusty yard. The sun is setting and finally there is a
reprieve from the heat.
‘Hi, Verick.’ I need not
turn around to know that Zody, the youngest of the Brooks family, is standing
behind me. I believe she is two years younger than me.
‘Hi, Zody,’ is all I need
to say to give her permission to pounce. Her arms wrap around my waist and her
head comes to rest on my chest as she sighs. I try to ignore some of her more
womanly features that push into my ribcage and give her back a few light pats.
Pelham gives me an apologetic glance, but does nothing to help me. Zody, who is
also in my lecture room, has offered on many occasions to replace Sadie. Just
to annoy Sadie sometimes, Zody will sit on the other side of me, but that’s
only if Jack is in a good mood. She’s pretty with long blonde hair, and gray
eyes, like her brothers. Maybe if she was older I’d be a little more
interested.
‘Zody, let Verick go.’
The dads and my uncle reappear
with a child-sized bed in hand. Before obeying her father, Zody gets up on her
tiptoes and places a kiss on my cheek. Girls. Peeling myself away from Zody, we
say our goodbyes and I of course help Uncle Etan carry Aiden’s new bed home.
Back on the land, Uncle Etan and I head
towards his house, while Dad turns off the watering valves for the remaining
crops on the farm. The new bed is wider than the entrance and it takes us a few
tries to get the frame through. We’ve chipped some of the mud from the doorway
and Uncle Etan swears as a crack spreads up the walls. Aiden, my two year old
cousin, follows us into the room and plops down onto the mattress that sits on
the ground. It was his crib bedding and is a perfect fit for the new frame. I
don’t think he is happy about the new bed, since it takes some coaxing to get
him up.
‘How was History today?’
calls Aunt Ella.
A green scarf keeps her
brown hair from falling into their dinner. Her attention is on the pot of
boiling soup. Uncle Etan doesn’t complain, but Aunt Ella burns everything, and
stone soup is on that list. I don’t want to distract her so I say, ‘Good,’
before trotting out of the door. The land that my family dwells on holds three
small houses and our underground farm. About a half-mile separates my
grandparents, Uncle Etan and Aunt Ella and my parents’ homes. There’s at least
five miles between us and the next family. Our slum’s current population is
less than four hundred, which is about forty-five families and farms. Most
families in this slum have similar layouts for their houses. Each farm is
located underneath their respective family compound.
Moving with urgency—more because Dad is
watching—I maneuver my way home.
‘Verick, don’t leave those
sacks out here,’ Dad calls as he heads in to the house.
Damn, I was hoping he would forget about them.
Sighing, I retrieve the bags and drag them into the house. The rusted tin door
rattles as my burden bangs into it. This gets me a distasteful look from Dad.
With a little effort, I lift the bags inches from the ground to keep from
putting holes in them as I slip from the sitting room into the short hallway.
There’s not much to our small abode: a sitting-room, three bedrooms, a kitchen,
and a tiny pantry. An outhouse sits behind our home.
Rylee and Thea are already
seated at the table. My middle sister gingerly plays with her broken toy, while
our little sister sits gnawing at her already-short finger nails. My room is
the closest to the kitchen. Slipping into the room, I decide to hide the sacks
in here. Before leaving my room, I place the purple rock on the one shelf
tacked on my wall. I had to lower it so Rylee could come check on the rocks
during the day while I’m at History. I believe she has rearranged the order of
the collection again—she does every time she touches it. As my father’s feet
stomp across the floor, I know it must be dinner time.
