"Walking with a friend in the dark is better than walking alone in the light." -Helen Keller
Y: 2019 A.D.- Present Day
I stretch my arms. I've been hanging up here long enough. The old iPod I found this morning is starting to glitch out anyway, and I can't even hear the music. Probably need to find somewhere to charge it.
I swing down from the trees after checking for the workers. It's almost moon high, but sometimes those slaves are up late. As soon as my feet hit the mud, I hear something crash into one of the bushes at the base of an orange tree about three feet away. I'm about to take off running, when the figure stands up and I recognize him.
"Melvin!" I hug him. He's a slave, maybe the only one who doesn't chase me off. He brushes the leaves off after I let go. "Jeb making you work late?" He shakes his head.
"No, but I found a couple quarters." He replies. "Thought I'd head into the city and buy some cheese, if she's still up."
"Found?" I ask. No one just "finds" a couple quarters. "You didn't steal it, did you?"
"What? Of course not!" He seems appalled by the accusation. "I would never steal from Jeb!" I can believe that, but I meant from another slave. He seems honest enough, so I shrug it off.
"M'kay, I was just heading back, can I come with you?" I beg, although I know the answer already. As we walk, he pulls out the money to show me. He has three whole quarters! The most money I remember ever holding at a single time is one quarter and a couple pennies. And that was a long time ago.
It takes a good walk, but we reach the suburbs. Run-down, white and orange houses with broken windows and stains from heaven-knows-what, shady people hanging around, this is a dangerous place, especially in the darkness. We hurry towards the city.
The place is run down and you can always hear metal music playing. I barely notice it, though, because it's been there all nineteen years of my life. Anyway, the music is blasted, Metalhead Guards, a form of police, walk around constantly with guns and knives to enforce their rules. I unintentionally step on a couple pieces of broken asphalt that hurt my bare feet. As we enter the main marketplace, I pull on a black bracelet with spikes on it that I think are horrid but Melvin suggests anyway. There are fewer Metalhead Guards around. The upper class of society are called the Metalheads, and their entire wardrobe and lives consist of items like my bracelet.
We pass a booth run by a couple kids, I only know one is called Lunch, selling treats like muffins and a couple cupcakes. I feel my eyes widen. Frosting. The only pink thing I know of, and I love it. Somehow, I feel myself walking towards it, but Melvin grabs my shoulder. He shakes his head. I knew it. Muffins cost about a dollar, and cupcakes are even more than that! He couldn't get one, even if he wasn't buying cheese.
When we reach the right booth, about seven of the fifty unstable makeshift booths in the entire marketplace are open, signaled by the lit mini-torch, and one of them is the Yearwood stand. The stand sells cheese from a goat, some fabrics, and some jewelry.
Her table is a broken piece of concrete on top of two large rocks. I've been buying things here whenever I can for as long as I've known, and I was around when Papa Yearwood passed. The young blonde woman turns away from the boxes behind her counter to see us. Even in the near-black night, her blue eyes sparkle like diamonds.
"Norma, it's great to see you, sweetheart!" She beams at me. I hear her loud and clear over the music, but I'm guessing Jeb and the other slave owners couldn't stand this. "And Melvin, it's been a while."
"Well, you know I've been busy, Carrie." Melvin says, causing her to frown. His position has always made her uncomfortable, and she even started a fund to buy and free him, but lost it when her Papa was dying, the business dropped, and they couldn't pay their taxes. She probably still feels bad about that, but he insisted he was fine.
"So, what brings you into the city at this late hour? I was about to pack up and lie down!" She continues smiling. Her house is a one room apartment she shares with her cousin, who helps sell, and must be sleeping. She generally works in the day, from what I've seen.
"I wanted to buy some cheese." Melvin murmurs.
"Alright honey, how much?" Carrie asks.
"How much can I get for seventy-five cents?" He asks, setting the quarters down.
"An ounce and a half." Carrie smiles. She takes the money and puts it in a jar, and turns to slice the cheese. I'm cold, so I snuggle under Melvin's arm as we wait, but he takes a step away. I huff and start rubbing my arms to keep warm. Carrie hands us the cheese.
"Thanks, and say hi to Jamie for me?" Melvin says, picking up the little piece of cheese wrapped in tin foil.
"Me too!" I squeak.
"I'll do that, now you two go home and get sleeping, alright?" Carrie says with her ever-present smile.
"Thanks again." Melvin says before we start walking back to the slave territories. About halfway there, he turns to me.
"Where are you sleeping tonight?" He asks. I feel a knot in my stomach. I don't know where I'm sleeping tonight.
"There's an old tree house a few miles from Jeb's land." I smile. It's not a lie; there is a tree house, it's just too worn out to use.
"Are you lying?" He asks.
"No, of course not, silly." I say.
"You're lying." He confirms. "I've seen that tree house; it couldn't support a mouse, and it's infested with bugs and creepy crawlers."
"What, do you want me to sleep in the orchards?" I say, somewhat loudly.
He sighs; "No. Make sure you're safe." We're at his land, so he disappears into the bushes and I turn around. I start walking back to the city, but think of Melvin. Think of the times I've seen him get beat for not doing something right, while I hid in the bushes. I can't see how Jeb could do that. I talked to him once; he seemed really nice.
I stub my toe on a rock and cry out. I bounce around on one foot, holding the injured one, until I realize my train of thought changed my direction. I haven't been in this forest for a few years, and I get a chill down my spine. Some guy told me that cannibals live here.
"Oh..." I whimper. I hear a twig snap. Turn around. "Who's there?" My voice sounds whiny, but I can't help it. Suddenly someone grabs my wrists, holds them behind me, and puts a knife to my throat. I can't see his face, because he's behind me, but another figure steps out of the shadows in front of me.
"What are you doing here, Norma?"