The Safe Zone Read online

  The Safe Zone

  BY: E. T. C.

  Chapter 1

  There are massive tents spaced all along the coarse, sandy beaches. Huge white canvas things held up by rusty metal and plastic poles, held down by heavy, huge stakes in the ground. There are four big tents in each section, and there are a lot of sections. Each section is divided up by letters. This particular section we are in is Section AAA. There are four tents to each section. There are tents AAA1, AAA2, AAA3, and AAA4. The next section is Section BBB. Each tent contains five hundred beds. Nothing fancy. Simple beds. Four posts with a frame in the center, a thin and uncomfortable mattress on each. A thin blanket and flat pillow lay on top of each mattress. People stow bags, luggage, boxes, and bags beneath with their personal belongings and whatnot. People always keep the strangest things. Five hundred beds, five hundred occupants. Four tents, five hundred beds, five hundred occupants, two thousand people per section. All along the western coast.

  This particular section, Section AAA, is on the sand between two large rock formations that jut out into the ocean like two jagged arms of a giant reaching to scoop up the salty sea water. The rocks are worn in places, sharp and dangerous. They are smooth in others where the water washes away at them, and barnacles and algae grow on them too. Mostly they are brown, but some spots are blackened and some are greenish. They go far into the water, one shorter, one longer. Those big giant rocky arms. Far out into the ocean.

  On one side of the longer rock formation is a harbor where the boats used to sail back and forth. No more. The boats do not sail in the harbor any more. It is only an open harbor now where you can watch the seals play now and again. It is the seal playground. No boats to get in their way now. It seems simpler. On the other side of the smaller rock formation, the beach continues, and it is the boundary of the next section, Section BBB. Where the sand ends and the pavement of parking lots and sidewalks begin is where the wall is. A big thing with sturdy chain-link fence in the center and bricks built up and cemented around it. Probably a few feet thick. Probably a couple dozen feet high. Big thing. Barbed wire protruding from the top. Where every section is, there is a gate in the wall. Just a chain-link gate with the barbed wire on the top. They are kept closed almost all the time. Except for when military trucks come into the sections. Trucks come in sometimes. Guards walk up and down the wall, on both sides. The guards outside the wall are most unfortunate. The guards on the inside are happy to be on the inside. Outside the wall is dangerous. It is very dangerous outside the wall. Me and my friends go outside the wall often, and it is dangerous to do. Me and my best friend Lucy do not go outside the wall together. I will not let her go out with me. It is dangerous outside the wall. I will not let her. Not let her. She is my best friend. She is beautiful. That is not why she is my best friend. But she is. Long dark brown hair. She puts it in a ponytail often, but sometimes it falls down to her back. Beautiful green eyes. They sparkle all the time and compliment her equally terrific smile. That smile. She is my beautiful best friend. Just a friend.

  I make her stay on the beach. I will not let her. Me and my friends go out and scavenge for food and supplies. We do it at night usually, when we can slip past the guards. It is not that they won’t let us out, but they will not let us back in. Why they do not let us in I do not know because they inject everyone who comes into the section with the antivirus that is supposed to prevent you from getting infected like the Stumblers. The Stumblers are gone from the general area. But it is dangerous. I do not let Lucy go with me and my other friends because it is dangerous. I am afraid for her. She is strong. But I am afraid for her still because of the dangers. Danger. The guards will not let us in if they catch us. Captain Barnes knows me and my friends go out, but he never actually catches us. So he does nothing to us. We will not get infected. We go out almost every other night. We collect what we can.

  Two years ago. Over two years ago actually. Over two years ago, yes so long now. That is when the Safe Zone was created. The Safe Zone runs all along the coast. Miles and miles of safety, hundreds of sections. Two years ago, within a week of the Great Evacuation, someone (no one really knows who) set up a system. The government maybe, since the soldiers protect us. Normal money, from the Before Times was of no use. So this person thought up a system we still use in the Safe Zone today. It is called the Can System. Before Times money became almost worthless, so instead we use aluminum cans as our currency. Soda and beer cans and such. It works well. We don’t complain. Everyone uses it. Why would we complain? There are only so many cans. They are material, but that is what makes them worthy. Metal. Aluminum. Material. It works and we use them and don’t complain.

  There is still plenty of soda stored under my bed in my tent. My tent is AAA1. I store my goods there under my bed. I have a dark green backpack that I stow things in, out of sight. Our of sight from eyes. Me and my friends are not all in the same tent. There are four tents, yes. There are seven of us that go out. Three of us are from AAA1, the other four are from AAA3. The whole section of AAA is a group though, one big family. We stick together. But in all, me and my friends stick together. All two thousand of us couldn’t sneak out at night. The seven of us, my friends and I, we bring back what we can. We keep what we need or what we really want. What we don’t keep we sell at our trade shop. There are only six trade shops in Section AAA. We own the best one. We bring in the good stuff. We usually get about ten cans a week or more. Even to have one can is to have a decent amount of money. We split the cans evenly, and any leftovers go into a group fund. The group fund is for the section to use in a time of great need. An emergency of course. We only will use it then. In an emergency.

  The Great Evacuation took place over two years ago. Over two years ago, the Safe Zone was set up along the coast. Within a month, almost the whole Safe Zone was filled up. The Can System was being used up and down the coast. All over the Safe Zone. The military kept guard over the wall. They killed any Stumblers in the area. They kill any Stumblers that come here. Very few come. Most of the action is inside the wall. People have nothing to do but eat, sleep, and play games. You can swim in the ocean. People say it is unsafe though. But me and Lucy do. We swim in the ocean. Once a week we go to the great rock formation that separates the beach from the harbor. Me and Lucy swim in the harbor. Just me and Lucy, and the seals of course. I like Lucy. She is my friend. She is more than my friend. Lucy is my best friend.

  Me and Lucy live in Section AAA of the Safe Zone. We were on the same bus over two years ago. We were both brought to the Safe Zone on that bus. We were both screened and injected with the antivirus together. We got sick and vomited into the ocean together. The antivirus made everyone vomit…everywhere…anywhere….We each got a bed that was next to each other’s. We still stay together. Me and Lucy are best friends. We like each other a lot. We stick together. But I don’t let her leave the Safe Zone.

  Me and my friends go deep into the danger. I cannot take her out of the Safe Zone. Not that far. We go deep into the Badlands. We see all different kinds of Stumblers. There are the regular Stumblers. They stumble around. Groaning, groping, grabbing, gnashing their teeth, biting. Then there are the Juggernauts. They are the big ones. Infected. Big and infected. The virus did something to them. Made them bigger, stronger - scarier really. They’re the big ones. And the worst ones. The Stumblers we call the Screamers. They are the most frightening. In the middle of the city is a store. It is almost empty because me and my friends have emptied most of it, as have others. But in it there were many Screamers. There are not now. Me and my friends and others killed them or they ran away in search of food. The store is empty now. Yes it is empty. But we still see Screamers out and about on occasion. They look like regular Stumblers at first. But when they see you. Tha
t is when you know. They aren’t regular Stumblers. They are Screamers. They scream at you. A high horrible bloody scream. A blood-curdling scream. It is truly one of the most horrifying screams you will ever hear. But that is not the worst of it. They sprint at you. They scream and then sprint. Scream and sprint. The Screamers are the fastest Stumblers. I’m not sure why they are in the general classification of a Stumbler at all. Me and my friends kill them fast. If they scream too much, other Stumblers will hear. Other Stumblers will come.

  Two years since the Great Evacuation. The Safe Zone is the safest place. Each morning we are served breakfast. We all get in a line and are served a large spoonful of powdered eggs. We get our choice of powdered milk or apple juice. We get our water bottles filled up. At lunch we gather in a single file line again. We are served a thin chicken broth with our choice of milk or juice. Same with dinner. Single file line, a serving of the processed lunch meat with some stale bread, and the choice of milk or juice. It is not enough food to live off of course. The military does what it can. They feed us as best they can. Two thousand people is a lot to feed. So many to feed.

  People get angry sometimes. People are so close together, and they do not have much space. People get angry and frustrated and annoyed with anyone or anything sometimes. Mostly we get along. But sometimes we snap. It is hard not to snap. We are all so close. Stuck so close together, it is hard not to snap. Close quarters can only be managed for so long. But we sort it out, or the soldiers do. We don’t want to soldiers to sort it out. They aren’t bad people, but they aren’t happy if they have to sort anything out. We don’t want the soldiers sorting it out. We get angry, they get angry. It gets rough.

  They gave us the tall blue potable bathrooms and the tall red portable showers. With only fifty showers and fifty toilets for two thousand people it gets crazy. Shower and bathroom both have time limits on them. You deal with nature’s call quickly, and you clean up quickly. Not a second longer than what you get. The lines are long. But we have time to kill. What better way to kill time than to wait for a five minute cold shower and a quick pee?

  We are grateful for what we have though. It is better than nothing. But the food is not enough. It is never enough. No one has died of starvation yet thankfully. Apparently almost four hundred people left the Safe Zone a year into the Great Evacuation. Most never returned, and the ones that did were not allowed back inside. The military denies it, but we all know that they shot the few dozen people who wanted to get back in. Whether it was a safety precaution or not, I don’t think it was right. But what can I do? They let in newcomers. Newcomers are fine. But once you are in, you either stay in or you don’t come back. Except me and my friends. We come back because they never catch us. They know we leave. They never stop us or catch us. They just don’t. Maybe they’ve decided it is not a big deal. If the antivirus works, then it should not be a big deal. It should not be. Newcomers are fine. But it is best not to leave. That is why me and my friends are some of the few who do. To get more food. To get more supplies. To get more soda and beer. Only a handful of the two thousand citizens of Section AAA leave to scavenge. There is a weak spot in the wall near the harbor. The cement was not poured properly there. We broke it and crawled through a hole in the fence one night. We do it a lot now. The guards know it, but they don’t try to stop us or even catch us. They let us. They even buy some of the things we bring back. One of my friends “just happened” to find a scanner, so we can scan any food we bring back for the virus. If anything is not clean we store it in a box and throw it away next time we go out into the Badlands. The Badlands are dangerous.

  They feed us as best they can. But it is never enough. That is why there are trade shops like ours. Hundreds of sections and they almost all have some sort of trading area set up. Sometimes people travel from the very first section, Section A, to the very last section, Section WWWW. That is the last section, and it only has three tents because there is no more room on the beach. At that point there is a border of another country and the Safe Zone cannot go on any further. That country is unknown now. We do not know if the virus is there. We do not know if it is safe. People trade throughout the Safe Zone. People like me and my friends who venture into the Badlands can sell what we get. We sell what we get, or sometimes give it out. There is plenty of food in the Badlands. Good food. If you know where to look. Me and my friends and the other people who venture into the Badlands help keep the citizens of the Safe Zone alive. However crazy it sounds. It is true. We do. What little food the soldiers can give us, we can always help bring more. That is just how it is. We don’t complain. This is life. This is how things are here. This is how they are...

  But Lucy does not come with me into the Badlands. I will not let her. I will not let her. It is too dangerous. I have never told her. It is too dangerous. I have never told her. I love her.

  Chapter 2

  The Can System is not perfect. It works for each individual section, but is more rickety in other sections. If I wanted to trade a can for a shirt in Section AAA it would only cost me one can. Maybe two cans. It depends on the seller. In Section BBB or CCC or any other section it would cost me more like five cans. At the least. Those who scavenge in the Badlands generally only bring in enough supplies to help feed their own section, not other sections. That is why stuff is more expensive in other sections apart from your own. You trade for things you need, but it is costly. The Can System is not perfect.

  Last night me and my friends found a big truck while we were scavenging. In the big trucks were crates. Fifty of them. Fifty crates! In each crate there were two hundred smaller boxes. Each box contained twelve cans of soda. Fifty crates, two hundred boxes, twelve cans per box. That is a total of one hundred and twenty thousand cans of soda. We decided to take the truck back to the Safe Zone. After all, we could evenly split the cans between everyone in Section AAA and everyone would get sixty cans. Sixty cans of soda. Two thousand people. Sixty cans of soda each. It was an extremely rare and good find. Everyone in Section AAA would be rich. We would all be rich. Such a good find. Me and my friends hot-wired the truck and drove back to the Safe Zone. We parked it about half a mile away from Section AAA. We don’t want the guards to see us. Then we spent the rest of the time unloading the crates. Then we waited. Darkness came and it was time. We moved in the dark. Moved the cans. In the dark.

  There is the hole in the wall near the harbor. A small hole but big enough for us to crawl through and move stuff into the Safe Zone. Yes, it is big enough. Each of us has a weapon. The military does not let us have guns. They say it is so that no one in the Safe Zone hurts someone else. This is silly. They let us have other weapons. Almost every citizen of the Safe Zone carries a pocket knife. Me and my friends have weapons. One friend has a small hatchet with a razor-sharp edge. Two other friends have some hammers that are good for bashing stuff in. Another friend has a pitchfork. Four prongs. Good for spearing. Another has a simple wooden baseball bat. It has nails stuck in the head to add to its effectiveness in dealing damage. My other friend has an aluminum baseball bat. It is sturdy and solid, yet light and easy to use. Personally, I like the machete I carry the best. It is a well-built machete. It is black. Leather wrapped around the handle for comfort. Good solid blade with a toothed back for sawing. Wood or bone I guess these days. It even has a sheath that I have attached to my belt. When I am not using the machete I can store it in the sheath, which is nice. It is a solid and sturdy weapon.

  We all have weapons. Four of my friends began to carry the crates to the wall. One at a time. One crate at a time. They do not want to get caught of course. Me and my two other friends stay at the big truck to guard the other crates. Within twenty minutes our other friends get back. They report that some other citizens from Section AAA are bringing the soda to the Keeper.

  In the larger rock formation that borders along the harbor and juts out into the ocean there is a spot where there is a small opening. That opening is the entrance to a cave. A small cave. Good size. But
small nonetheless. The Keeper lives there. He is an older man. No one knows his real name. He is just called the Keeper. He was here before the Safe Zone. He was here before the Great Evacuation and before everything went bad. He is a human I think, but he is different. He lives there in the cave. The small but good sized cave. He stores all extra food and stuff in his cave. He keeps it safe. That is why he is called the Keeper. My friends told us he would take the soda and keep it for us until we could hand out the sixty cans to everyone the next day.

  One by one. Crate by crate. My friends carry the soda to the wall and our other friends on the inside help carry it to the Keeper’s cave. Me and my two other friends guard the soda. No one comes. No Stumblers come. No other scavengers come. All is well.

  All the crates have been emptied and thrown into the harbor. All the soda has been brought to the Keeper and is safely stored inside his cave. He is not a true member of Section AAA. The Keeper. He has no bed. He sleeps on the cave floor. He never complains. He only asks that he gets his share of rations that we bring in. Me and my friends each take our share of sixty cans of soda. We leave the rest for the next day so we can give them out to the others. When my friends are gone I ask the Keeper for a quick word.

  “Yes Tom?” he asks. His grayish, cloudy eyes watching me.

  “Here,” I say setting down thirty cans of soda by him. “These are yours. We didn’t bring in any food this time. So these cans are your payment. We appreciate your help.”

  “Thank you Tom,” he replies picking up a soda and popping the lid and taking a sip and then setting it back down.

  “No problem,” I say. “Take care. We’ll be back tomorrow to get the rest.”

  “Good night friend,” the Keeper says with a rare and toothy smile.