***

The living room was clean, tidy, and simple. Even the way the furniture was placed in the room signified a natural balance. It was like the owner had placed each piece specifically in its area to ensure the house would not lean to one side or the other.

In the adjacent study, the same care and balance was erected in the form of bookshelves. The walls were lined with them from the floor to the ceiling. Hundreds of books, tens of thousands of pages, millions of words all neatly tucked away behind their covers.

Todd dipped his hands into the water bucket and splashed his face. The droplets of water collected in the thick bracken of his beard and through his slicked-back hair. He ran a comb through both his hair and beard, taming the knots and tangles formed from the previous seven days, which had been the last time he’d taken the time to wash himself. He scrubbed himself down as best he could then rinsed with the five gallons of water he had pumped from the community’s water pump. He snatched a towel and tried to catch as much of the water dripping onto the floor on his way to the bedroom as he could.

The bed was made, and on top of the comforter sat a pair of pants, a T-shirt, boxer briefs, and socks. The towel hit the floor, and he started to dress.

The town’s sirens wailed just as Todd pulled the laces tight on his left shoe. He abandoned the shoe’s partner and immediately went to his study. In the chair was a worn leather briefcase. He snatched the manila folder inside and rushed back to the bedroom. He pulled up a piece of the floorboard by the tips of his fingernails and stuffed the folder over a dust covered pistol inside. He made sure it was secure then grabbed his right shoe on the way out.

The farms surrounding the makeshift town were fairly spread out. Until the government created their “community,” the families and individuals in the area got along fine. To his left and right he could see his neighbors making the walk down. All of them kept their eyes on him. 

Once Todd made it onto the main track, he could see the sentries, rifles in hand, herding everyone in line. Todd filed in, and one of the other community members caught his eye. He gave him a simple nod, and the man looked away.

A new inspector had arrived. He reminded Todd of the street thugs he used to see in California, complete with short hair, simple clothes, and an air of anger and entitlement; the kind of guy who’d knock you out because he was having a bad day. The man didn’t fit the mold for most of the inspectors he’d seen. Especially after seeing the gun holster on the inside of his black leather jacket.

There was another man standing behind the street thug. He looked like some lab rat Todd would have found during his teaching days. The rat held his case of syringes close to his chest, wide-eyed and visibly shaking.

The street thug said something to his pet rat, who then moved to the first person in line and began drawing a blood sample. Whoever the man in the black jacket was, he definitely wasn’t an inspector. While the ‘assistant’ made his way down the line, the street thug simply watched the rest of the community, giving everyone a good look up and down. When he made it to Todd, he stopped.

“What was your job?” Street Thug asked.

“Was?”

“Before the soil crisis.”

“Janitor.”

Street Thug took a step back, rubbing his chin. Then, as quick as a snake bite, he grabbed Todd’s wrist and examined his palm. Todd felt the man’s finger trace along the creases and grooves of his skin. Then, just as quickly as he’d grabbed Todd’s wrist, he tossed it away.

Street Thug shoved his own palm in front of Todd’s face. “You see this? This is the hand of a man who worked outside. Someone who gripped tools and machinery. You have the hands of a twelve-year-old girl. You weren’t a fucking janitor. So what do you do now, janitor?“

“Body depo,” Todd answered.

“Like that, do you? Copping a feel of the stiffs before they’re gone. I can’t imagine the play around here is any good, so you have to take it where you can get it.”

The thug puffed hot, stinking breath against Todd’s throat. Todd balled his fist so tight the bones in his hands popped.

“Aww, what’s the matter?” Street Thug asked. “Have a soft spot for the stiffs? Formed a connection with them, have you?”

The lab rat stood sheepishly behind the thug. “Um, sir?”

The thug took a step back and allowed the rat to collect his cheese. Todd stuck out his arm and felt the cool puncture of metal pierce his skin, followed by the slow drain of life from his vein. Once the syringe was full, the warm, tingling sensation in the crook of Todd’s elbow disappeared, and he covered it with the pressure from his opposite hand. He stood there, feeling the pulse from his heartbeat quicken.

Finally, the thug stepped away. Todd felt his heart rate slow. The beat in his chest and pulse in his arm declined in proportion to the distance between the two of them. Once all of the samples were collected, the lab rat disappeared inside the truck that he arrived in.

Todd closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, quietly. He let the cool rush of air blow past his lips and into the open space in front of him. He had to stay calm. He couldn’t panic. His eyes slowly moved to the sentries surrounding the group. He counted twelve. All armed with assault rifles, and secondary pistols at their waists. They had enough bullets to kill every member of the community twenty times over.

It would only be another few minutes before the lab rat finished the tests on his blood. And when the rat analyzed the calories along with the vitamin and mineral count that was flowing through his blood at this very moment, Todd would have to make a decision that carried repercussions that would extend far beyond his small community.