CHAPTER SIX
The news was all over every local television channel. Crosswire Motors was vandalized in the night by an angry group of protestors. Every window, side view mirror, and tire faced damage in the parking lot, and the building itself was nearly burned to the ground. The message was clearly spray painted all over the pavement: You eat better than us, and you deserve to pay for it.
People were dying every day now all over the country as people went without food. Though kids were back in school, that meant that many picked up colds and viruses from their classmates. Their weakened bodies couldn't handle it, so they fell victim to the illness. And like those protestors said, no one could afford funerals or burials. Bodies went unclaimed in the morgue, bodies of family members, because then the state would have to cover the cost. It was deplorable, but no one had a choice. That's just how the times were.
Because things weren't improving at a decent enough speed, everyone knew these incidents would continue, and while some optimists decided the protestors would stick to property damage, the pessimists and law enforcement officials knew things were going to escalate as everyone's hunger deepened and more people fell victim. Anger would push them over the edge to do things they never would have before, and these people, as dark as it sounds, were right. A week after Crosswire Motors was destroyed, Emily's father was assaulted outside of his own job. He was hospitalized for several days before passing away from his injuries.
As with the vandalism at Crosswire Motors, no suspects could be identified. As people used logic to examine the situation—there were plenty of security cameras and physical evidence at each scene—it was clear that the police intended to protest too. They were only making so much money themselves, and they all had family members to take care of. So why bring justice for a bunch of rich snobs who got what was coming to them? Besides, jails were in rough shape. Small rations twice a day every other day—that was the feeding schedule. While that might be more than what some criminals were getting at home, they knew to do more damning things to things that mattered. Burn down a house or rob a drug store, then you could get those limited meals and a cot.
No one saw anything wrong with this. People who stole food almost deserved death in this society, and people who harmed those who were rich enough to get fed were seen as heroes. Just as society shifted to not talk about food or stay in other people's houses during meal times, their morality compass shifted as well. Murder was okay when the rich were dead, even if that wouldn't feed your family. It was calming enough just to have one less well-fed person to look at, a therapy session for the whole town.
But just as no one blatantly talked about the rules—don't stay during meal times, don't discuss your own food, never offer your own food for anyone but family, etc.—no one said it was okay to kill the rich. No one said that's how things were now, that it was fine. No, they kept silent, just keeping their thoughts bottled up inside.
Brain and Arthur noticed this, just as every other kid did, in Elwood City and the world. The national and international news wasn't much better. Thousands dead in Europe, close to a million in China, and uncountable numbers in the Third World. Crimes against those with food took place in those places too. Public executions started up again in France as grocery stores were robbed by desperate people looking for a good meal. No one complained, but people took note of the darker way of things. And rather than be upset, they just shrugged it off.