The Rat Collector: A Dystopian Thriller (Age of End Book 1) (7 page)

Saul lifted his hand and turned to Vince, whose face was struck with awe. All of his doubts were gone. Saul smiled. “It works.”

“I can see that. How do you feel?”

“I feel good. Really good. I’ve never felt this good, ever. It’s amazing. You have to try it.”

Vince, still cautious, was also curious. His attention moved from Saul to the tube of liquid sticking out of his pocket. The man in the suit was telling the truth. Was that even possible? It had to be. He had witnessed it with his own eyes. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

“Trust me,” Saul said, reaching for his pocket. “You’ll like it.”

Vince rolled up his sleeve. “Does it hurt? It sounded painful when he injected you.”

“That was because I wasn’t expecting it. It hurts a little, but not too bad. Just a pinch.” He held the needle up to his arm. “Ready?”

Vince nodded.

Saul pushed through the skin and pressed the button. The liquid shot out of the tube, into his arm. He flinched but remained calm. He could feel the fluid entering his veins, traveling to his heart, and dispersing across his body.

“Now what?” He asked.

“Now we wait. It takes a while to kick in, but you’ll know when it does.”

They passed the time with their usual horseplay. Climbed trees, ran around, threw rocks in the nearby pond. And as usual, Vince excelled in each event. He climbed higher, ran faster, threw farther.

Vince picked up a rock. He squared up his feet, tightened his grip, and cocked his arm back, ready to throw. Then he paused, and a smile crept over his face.

“Vince, what’s wrong?”

“It’s working. I can feel the energy.”

Saul clapped his hands together. “I told you. It feels good, huh? And look at your skin.”

Vince lifted his hand and stared at the tiny hairs growing from his flesh. “This is crazy. The man was telling the truth. Why would he just give it to us? He didn’t ask for anything in return. We’re talking about immortality here. That’s not something you just hand out for free.”

“I don’t have a clue, and I don’t care. Stop thinking about it and drain something already.”

Vince walked up to another large tree and pressed his palm against the bark. He felt the tendril-like hairs latch onto the surface. He closed his eyes and steadied his breath, and in an instant, all of his doubts were gone. He felt the energy coursing through his veins. He was overwhelmed with warmth. With a tingling sensation that filled his heart with glee. The tingling transformed into a powerful force that he grasped with his soul and released through his body.

When he opened his eyes, the tree had crumbled. He was surrounded by a circle of shriveled leaves. Chills ran through his body, from his fingertips to his toes. The feeling was euphoric; unlike anything he had ever felt. The boys exchanged smiles, both speechless.

Saul walked over to the young sapling and wrapped his hand around the top.

“Wait, Saul,” Vince said urgently. “Don’t drain something with so much energy. Not yet, at least. We’re new at this. Take it slow.”

“Stop worrying so much. I’ll be fine.”

As the tree withered and died, Vince saw the pleasure build in Saul’s face. The thin trunk of the infant tree snapped off, and Saul stumbled back, overwhelmed. “This sapling, it’s much stronger than the other one. Give it a try.” he pointed to another young tree. “That one over there?”

Vince shook his head. “No, I’ve had enough for today. I’ll try it later. It’s getting dark anyway. We need to get home.”

“Go without me. I’ll stay a bit longer.”

“Okay. Be careful. Don’t overdo it.”

Vince returned home, feeling better than he ever had. And Saul was left alone, in a forest of energy.

FIFTEEN

ROGER CAME HOME after his first day of school. On his walk back, he dreaded seeing his parents. They were sure to bombard him with questions about his day. Is your teacher nice? Did you learn anything interesting? Did you make new friends? He did not want to deal with these questions. He just wanted to go to his room and read.

But, just as he expected, when he walked through the front door, his mother was waiting. “Hello, sweetie,” she said with a cheery voice. “How was your first day of school?”

“Good.”

“That’s good. Did you make any new friends?”

He lied. “Yes.”

She fluttered her hands together in short claps. “That is great news, sweetie! I would love to meet them sometime. I’m sure your father would too.”

“I absolutely would!” his father shouted from the opposite end of the room. He was hunched over an open box, rummaging through its contents. “You should invite them over.”

“Okay,” Roger said.

“How was your teacher?” his mother continued. “Was she nice?”

“Yes.”

“Did you learn anything interesting?”

“No.”

“Nothing at all? I know it was only your first day, but you must have learned something.”

Roger sighed. “I don’t know, Mom. Can I just go to my room?”

“Okay, sweetie. You’re off the hook for now.” Roger darted past her. “But I want to hear more at supper.”

Roger shut his door and fell onto his bed. He finally had some alone time. He stared at the bare ceiling for a good while and then sat up to look at the stacked boxes in the far corner of his empty room. He had not unpacked yet, but he was not in the mood.

Instead, he got up and dug through the box on top, throwing piles of clothes over his head until he found the stack of books he was looking for. He placed them on his desk and looked at the top cover. It was a picture of a smiling cartoon turtle.

He ran his fingers over the smooth surface. The title read
The Happy Turtle
. It was a simple, yet appropriate title for one of his favorite picture books as a child. He cracked open the beat-up cover and turned to the first page. Each page had a large picture with text underneath.

He smiled when he saw the rhymes. He enjoyed rhymes. There was a certain satisfaction in finding the perfect pair of words. It was like fitting together the pieces of a puzzle. The first rhyme that popped into his head…
slice and dice
…

He looked down at the page and read the story:

A turtle happy as could be,
Walked down the trail, full of glee.
“The day’s a beauty,” he proclaimed,
“Just call me Walter. That’s my name.”

The picture showed the same happy turtle from the cover walking along a dirt path. There were trees on either side of him, their branches full of bright green leaves. The sun shone in the clear sky. He wore a hat showing his name, Walter. It was a simple drawing, but charming. He turned the page:

So on his journey homeward bound,
He smiled big, he smiled proud.
With sunlight beaming on his face,
He kept a slow and steady pace.

There was a cozy house in the distance, presumably Walter’s home. He walked towards the house. The sun shone upon his wide smile, showing that he was indeed
The Happy Turtle
.

He looked down at his watch to see,
The time read almost half past three.
A panic overcame his smile,
His first time late in quite some while.

A close-up of Walter’s watch displayed the time, 3:30.

Determined to be home on time,
He tried to focus all his mind.
And step by step he made his way,
“I need to make it home today.”

The flustered turtle’s smile was gone, and in its place, a stiff look of determination. He swung his arms and kicked his knees as he marched down the path, like a soldier in formation.

Despite his efforts and his will,
He moved as slow as standing still.
And soon came fall with colored leaves,
“I hate these slowly moving feet.”

Walter had not moved at all from the previous page. The trees still stood by his side, their leaves now an assortment of reds and yellows. Some had fallen to the ground, forming a crunchy trail of autumn colors. He kept his march, but now his face held anger.

From anger came diminished hope,
And now upset, he could not cope.
In desperate cries, he hollered loud,
“Why can’t I just be home right now?”

Walter’s arms drooped, and his head hung low. All the trees were now bare. The leaves on the ground had lost their color and were an ugly shade of brown. His expression had turned to one of desperation.

And after fall came winter’s hold,
With heaps of snow and biting cold.
His body ached, his feet were numb,
His hope was blown to kingdom come.

Walter stood, more hopeless than ever. His feet dragged with each step. The leaves were replaced with snow, and the sun was hidden behind a wall of clouds, leaving the sky dark and dreary.

This is dark for a children’s book
, Roger thought to himself as he examined the not-so-happy turtle. But he remembered there was a happy ending.

And after signs of deep despair,
A thought popped up, he did not care.
He realized though he was late,
It’s better to accept this fate.

Walter looked up with a sudden realization. The snow around him was half melted in puddles. Small buds grew from the tips of branches. The clouds had dispersed, and the sun peeked out from behind.

With no more worries on his mind,
He stood and watched the sunlight shine.
Admired flowers here and there,
Enjoyed the freshness of the air.

The page repeated the first image of the book. The green leaves of the trees, the sun shining brightly in the sky, and Walter’s big smile.

And after many passing years,
He walked his walk with no more fears.
And to this day, he’s full of glee,
A happy turtle as could be.

The final page showed pictures of Walter walking through all of the seasons. A smile plastered on his face, even through the gloomy weather of autumn and winter.

Roger slapped the book closed just as his mother called from downstairs. “Roger, supper is ready!” He stuffed the book in his school bag. He liked to carry it around. It was somehow comforting. As he walked down the hallway, he tried another rhyme…
slice and dice…and something nice
…He could do better.

He entered the dining room and made his way to the dinner table. His father and mother sat on opposite ends, and he took his seat in the middle. On his mother’s side, there was a large succulent turkey. The juices dripped from the crispy skin. The steam climbed up into his nostrils and made him drool.

His mother stood up and grabbed the large carving knife and fork. She slowly moved the sharp blade up and down the prongs, making the crisp sound of metal rubbing on metal. Roger watched as she prepared to cut the perfectly cooked meat.
Slice and dice.
She brought the knife downward, slicing through with ease.

Slice and dice, that’s one big knife.

She placed a generous portion on each plate. When she was finished serving, Roger indulged his newly-found hunger, stuffing scoops of meat down his gullet. His father watched. “Slow down there, son. You’re going to choke to death if you keep up that pace.”

Slice and dice, don’t end your life.

Roger slowed his bites and sipped his water.

“So sweetie,” His mother said. “Tell us more about your first day of school.”

Roger sighed. “Must I, Mother? I really am not in the mood.”

“Yes, you must.” Her tone had a subtle punch to it. “I want to hear about your day.”

Roger knew this tone and knew resistance would only lead to trouble. So he told her about his day, but he did not enjoy it one bit.

Slice and dice, she’s not so nice.

SIXTEEN

VINCE ARRIVED AT school the next day, refreshed from a full night of sleep. He felt better than he had in years. He entered the room and looked at the clock. Only minutes before class and Saul was still absent. He sat at his desk and tapped his fingers. Ms. Martin walked in and began to teach, but Vince was completely distracted.
There is no way he stayed in the woods all night.
He kept eyes on the door, but Saul never came. As class ended, Vince rushed out of the room and headed directly to the woods.

When he reached the spot from the night before, he saw several dead trees, but no sign of Saul. He wandered deeper, calling Saul’s name. There was no answer. He strolled into a small clearing. The sunlight gleamed through past the branches, brightening a patch of green in the grass. At the center of the clearing, Saul slouched over on his knees, head tilted down. In his hands was a dead rabbit, whose frizzled fur had faded.

Vince stepped forward onto dried leaves. The crisp crunch snapped Saul out of his trance. He looked up, and a smile slowly formed.

“Just the person I wanted to see. Vince, come over here.”

“Have you been here all night?”

Saul chuckled, “No I went home last night, but when I woke up, I came back.”

“I was waiting for you all day. You were just here this whole time?”

“Yes. Although my parents don’t know that.”

Vince’s face held a look of concern.

“Don’t worry Vince. I wasn’t draining trees all day. I spent most of the time trying to catch this rabbit.” He held the carcass up.

Vince turned away. “That’s gross Saul. Why are you holding that?”

“I drained it.” He said, trying to hold back his smile, but finally giving in. “Vince, it feels amazing. You have no idea. It’s better than the trees, tenfold, at least.”

Vince recalled the feeling that rushed through his body when he drained the tree. The warmth. The adrenaline. The overwhelming sense of power. The idea of an even greater sensation was intriguing, but he still held reservations. “Are you sure this is okay? It doesn’t feel right.”

“Why not?”

“You’re killing living creatures.”

“Don’t you realize? This is the key to living forever. We’ve been handed the gift of immortality. We can’t just throw that away. It’s like the man said; hunting. We already kill animals to survive. Your father runs a meat shop for Christ’s sake. He does this kind of thing every day. Draining this rabbit is the same thing. And look,” he held the dangling body up to Vince’s face, “now we can eat it. We can take it back to you father to sell. Nothing goes to waste.”