Page 23 of Semi-Human

“Wake up, newcomer. The wall is waiting.”

I grunt and roll onto my back, squinting at the older man. “I have a name.”

“I’ll bother remembering it in a few months. I’ve seen plenty of you youngsters try to escape or kill yourselves—I have enough useless names in my head.”

He walks away to join the rest of the men in our barracks. It’s a narrow, dim structure with horrible airflow and a constant stench of sweat. With a grunt, I push myself out of bed, my bones and muscles sore and cramped. There’s a line to the showers, and I wait even though I’ll be sweaty and disgusting soon. It’s still early, but the sun is already sending signals of looming heat. I’ve only seen glimpses of the desert while working on top of the wall, but I hate every part of it.

It’s easy to lose track of time when every day’s the same, but I’ve counted two weeks since I got here. When Solomon brought us here in the chopper, he refused to let me stay with River, but he promised him I’d be taken care of. The next morning, I was put to work on the wall like any other slave. The guards aren’t giving me favorable treatment, but they’re making sure I’m not getting sick or lacking food. I haven’t seen River since we got here, and I’m running out of guards to ask about him.

When it’s my turn to shower, I hurry to the available spot. The water’s cold, but I welcome the kick to my senses. I shouldn’t linger while being naked and defenseless. My first day here, three of the slaves jumped me on the way back from the wall. They dragged me toward one of the nearby storehouses, but we didn’t get far before I got my hand free and hit one of them in the throat. The other two were surprised enough for me to quickly overpower them. I used an iron bar to break one’s knee, making it a warning to anyone else with similar ideas.

It must have worked since no one else has tried anything, but I’m still keeping vigilant at all times. I have no allies here.

Once back in my dirty work clothes, I go eat breakfast. The food is disgusting enough to make me miss our field rations, but I eat as much as I can. My group is assigned to the part of the wall that was already built but requires reinforcements. Whenever I get to work up high, I’m amazed by the sprawling ruins of the dead city below. The wall is meant to protect the parts of the city that survived for so many years, while the old, abandoned structures were left outside to serve as obstacles against invaders.

A massive body sits down next to me, making the bench creak. “Morning, Hiver.”

I sigh and focus on my shitty food. Out of all the people I didn’t want to deal with during this dire situation, the mutant who had ordered his men to burn me was high on the list.

Buck nudges me with his elbow. “Thought you Hivers were supposed to be polite.”

“You were misinformed.”

“You should still make an effort.”

I meet his yellowish eyes. “I told you to stay away from me.”

“Yeah, you might’ve mentioned it.”

He lowers his voice and leans closer, making me tense, though he won’t attack with so many guards around. The green scales on his neck glow in the sunlight. “A mutant around here is a walking target, Hiver. I need someone capable to have my back, and I’m willing to return the favor.”

I pull up the sleeve of my shirt, where my skin will forever remain scarred. “I suggest looking for someone you haven’t tortured. There might be a couple around here.”

He looks mildly apologetic, but I don’t buy it. I know Raiders. “You can take care of yourself just fine, Buck, and so can I.”

He lowers his voice even further. “But will it stay that way once the others find out you have been getting special treatment from the guards?”

I tense, keeping my expression blank even though my heart beats faster. “Don’t know what you’re on about.”

He chuckles. “Of course. But if folks around here start to suspect, they might come to the unfortunate conclusion that you’re a spy, put here by the albino giants to sniff out troublemakers. You see where I’m going with this?”

I don’t believe anyone will come to that conclusion—not unless Buck puts the idea in their head.

“Fuck you,” I hiss.

He chuckles, then says somberly, “Some of the people here have started looking at me funny.”

“Maybe they’re into scales.”

“Yeah, into cutting them. I have a reputation, and I’m sure some of them have figured out I used to be a Raider.”

“You are a Raider.”

“I quit.”

“Bullshit.”

“No reason for me to bullshit you. I only joined because someone like me doesn’t have many options. Once the Raiders attacked my clan, I could either join or die in the arena in Denver. I’m not making excuses, but I did eventually leave that life on my own account.”

He looks around. “I should’ve chosen a better destination than Utah, but I had to get as far away from Raiders’ territory. Now I need for you to watch my back, and I’m a damn good friend to have in a place like this. If that red devil didn’t kill you back then, it must mean you’re worth something.”

I keep still. Buck doesn’t know that River attacked the Raiders to save me, and I’m going to keep it that way.

“On your feet!”

a guard barks. They all have guns, but it’s the stun batons they usually use to keep us in line or just for entertainment.

We march in a column toward our designated part of the wall. Las Vegas lies to our left, the biggest city I’ve ever seen. I didn’t know such tall buildings could even be built, but those who lived before Doomsday knew how to create amazing things before they destroyed everything.

From this distance, I can’t see what’s going on in the streets, but it doesn’t stop me from trying to spot anyone with copper hair every chance I get. The giants are a rare sight. They sometimes come to check on our work, and every slave must bow his head out of respect, which is another word for fear.

We reach the wall—a monstrous structure made of concrete and metal. We need to climb over two hundred creaky wooden stairs on the scaffolding to reach the top, but our work is usually in the lower levels, where the wall is more likely to get breached. The thought that anything can breach such a structure seems crazy. The weapons we have in Colorado will be like throwing sticks against a mountain, but maybe it’s not Colorado the New-Humans are worried about.

Our work manager assigns us groups before giving us our assignments. I’m put into the same group as Buck—of course. At least he can lift like two men, and he rarely needs to take a break. The hours pass as we climb up and down the ramps, carrying buckets of concrete or metal plates. The sun’s a nightmare, even in the shade. We’re too tired to talk, but fights still break out every once in a while. We’d be wise to unite against our common enemy, but we’re too focused on surviving through another day without getting injured or killed.

When I see one of the guards standing alone for a cigarette break, I use the opportunity to approach him. After so many days without news of River, I’m becoming desperate, and I have nothing to lose by asking.

“What do you want?”

The guard glares at me. They say most of the guards had been locals before the New-Humans took over.

“I’m looking for someone,”

I say. “He has copper hair. I came here with him.”

The guard spits on the ground and shrugs. “I’ve seen a few of those in the city, but that has nothing to do with you. If the big ones want you to see him, they’ll find you.”

“I just need to know if he’s okay.”

“What you need is to get your ass back to work before I get angry. The copper-haired are not prisoners. Your friend obviously doesn’t want to see you.”

I walk away before I accidentally say something that might get me in trouble.

The rest of the day drags on until the sun begins to descend, allowing the temperatures to drop. We make our way back to the barracks to get cleaned up and eat. The next couple of hours are free before lights out, but there isn’t much to do. They give us cigarettes, but I don’t smoke. The team that completed the most assignments gets some alcohol, and even though today it’s my team, I don’t consume anything that might make me less sharp.

After taking a shower, I walk from the barracks to the edges of the compound where I can better see Las Vegas at night. It truly is a sight, a glittering beauty meant to impress and entice. I lean against the wall of one of the storehouses, exhausted and troubled. If it weren’t for River being somewhere among those lights, I would have already planned my escape. There are stories of some who have made it out, but whether or not they survived in the desert is anyone’s guess.

They promise that once we finish the wall, all slaves will be free to live in the city. I pity anyone desperate enough to buy into such an obvious lie.

“Fuck, you’re wasted.”

I turn my gaze to the two approaching men. One is clearly drunk, which will cost him dearly tomorrow at work. The one who carries him grumbles curses, both of them looking as if they’re about to fall.

They stumble closer to where I’m leaning against the wall, and right when they’re about to trudge past me, they lunge. I’m not quick enough to react, and they end up pressing me against the wall. The one who pretended to be drunk blocks my mouth with his sweaty palm. I try to bite down, but I can’t move my jaw. Two other men run toward us. By the glee in their eyes, I don’t delude myself they’ll offer help.

“Coast’s clear,”

one of them says. I recognize him as one of the three who jumped me on my first day. I should have broken his knee as well.

They drag me farther from the barracks area, toward the containers we use for storing equipment. The few working streetlights cast an orange glow over the secluded area, enough to see there’s no one else around who might help. By the way they keep blocking my mouth and holding my hands behind my back, it’s clear they’ve done this before. They might have underestimated me the first time, but they’re not about to do that again.

I’m trying not to panic, but my panic doesn’t care. I can’t possibly take down the four of them, and it’s painfully obvious where this is heading. They drag me into one of the containers, and in seconds, they have me pinned down on a mattress as I try to kick them off. Before I can scream for help, they shove a cloth into my mouth. In the dim light, I catch a fist being raised, and I can do nothing but brace myself as it slams against the side of my head.

Bright lights wash over my vision. I stop struggling before they can hit me again. If I’m injured, I can’t work, and there will be no need for me anymore.

“Is this the fucker who broke Lou’s knee?”

one of them asks. They are all shifting silhouettes in the dimness of the container.

“Yeah, that’s him. We should break his knee once we’re done.”

“Nah, then they’ll send him away. I don’t want this being a one-time thing.”

The speaker hovers with his face above mine, his long hair unkempt, and his front teeth broken. He sticks out his tongue and licks the side of my face, making my stomach churn. “Such a sweet, sexy fucker you are. Gonna lick you all over, handsome. Gonna make your cunt wet.”

My instincts kick in when they begin to pull down my pants, but I end up getting more blows until I stop struggling, my consciousness hanging by a thread.

Give them what they want and figure something out tomorrow.

They turn me onto my stomach and pull down my underwear.

“Now, that’s a sexy piece of meat! What did I tell ya?”

They slap my ass, the humiliation stronger than the pain. I brace myself for hell as the one who licked my face climbs on top of me, his cock searching for my entrance and his precum rubbing against my skin.

“You better get used to this,”

he breathes into my face. “Gonna pass you around from now on. You’ll end up loving it—I can tell.”

“Having fun?”

The man on top of me jerks away. I should use the opportunity to move, but I’m numb, my heart pulsing in my ears.

“The fuck you want, freak?”

“For one of you to attack me,”

Buck says.

One of them is stupid enough to try. I hear something smashing against the container wall, followed by a grunt of pain, then another smashing sound.

“Who’s next?”

“We don’t want trouble, freak.”

“Maybe calling people freaks isn’t how you should go about it.”

“No reason to get upset, big guy. We don’t mind sharing. There’s plenty of ass to go around. Wanna go first?”

“Get the fuck out.”

“Yeah, okay. We’re leaving. Just gonna pick up our friend here.”

“He’s dead, but be my guest.”

“What? Shit.”

They scramble out, and I’m left staring at the dark corner of the container, my mind urges me to pull my clothes back up.

“You okay, Hiver?”

I’m anything but okay, but he doesn’t press for an answer. I let my scattered brain reassemble before pulling the dirty cloth out of my mouth. I turn aside to pull up my underwear and pants, wishing for him to look away. I use the wall for balance and push myself to my feet. My head pounds, and I only manage to take two steps before my stomach flips. I throw up on the ground, some hitting my shoes.

With my stomach empty, I collect myself and exit the container, expecting to hear Buck saying, You owe me, Hiver, but he’s already left.

I walk back toward the barracks, my eyes darting to every shadowy corner. I know this isn’t the end of it—I was a fool to believe otherwise. In the distance, Las Vegas taunts me with its glamorous beauty, and River never felt so far away.

*

The following day, I feel detached from my body—a dangerous state to be in while carrying heavy materials up and down the scaffolding. I tell the guards I don’t feel well, but they brush me off, saying we’re on a tight schedule after one of the workers was found dead last night.

If I’m supposed to be getting special treatment, I sure as hell don’t feel it.

I skip lunch and settle on drinking water, my stomach as raw as my nerves. The left side of my face has a nasty bruise, but no one asks what caused it. They either don’t care, or they already know what happened.

My body clenches at the sound of a chopper. It flies overhead and disappears past the wall, likely to help conquer another settlement. Every few days, more slaves are brought in, shaken and terrified, the sole survivors of their communities. There’s no time for them to adjust and learn the ropes. Once you’re here, you work, and once you can’t work, you’re taken away and never seen again.

I sit in the shade, waiting for my break to be over so I can quiet my thoughts with labor. Buck is working alone on the fourth level of the scaffolding, near the top of the wall. I hate knowing that I owe him. Even though having each other’s backs might be crucial to my survival, I can’t look past what I know about him. When I’m no longer of value, he’ll turn on me.

Movement catches my eye. I squint at the three men walking near the wall, about 500 feet from where I’m sitting. Even from this distance, I recognize those who attacked me yesterday. Bile climbs up my throat, but I swallow it down and follow their movement. They look around to make sure no one’s watching, then they hurry up the stairs.

This being our break, no one should be working on the wall, but there’s one who does. I don’t need to think too hard to figure out what is happening. I wonder if I should sit still and let it play out, but I’m not likely to get a better chance at retaliation.

I jump to my feet and hurry toward the wall, grabbing a metal bar on my way. I leave my shoes by the stairs so they won’t hear my climb. I’m at the second level when Buck yells in pain. I run up the stairs, the metal bar firmly in my hand. If I’m too late, I might be facing the three of them on my own, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take.

When I reach the fourth level, they’re kicking Buck on the ground. I rush forward and smash the bar against the one closest to me, hearing his skull cracking before he crashes to the floor. He’s the one who pretended to be drunk last night when they jumped me. The other two turn in surprise, granting me the second I need to hit another one in the face. Blood splashes from the cut on his cheek as he staggers back. Before I can handle the last one, he lunges. I crash on my back with him on top of me, the metal bar flying out of my hand and sliding past the ledge.

He chokes me, his fingers digging into my windpipe. My vision blurs, but I still recognize him as the one with the long hair who lay on top of me last night. Gonna lick you all over, handsome. Gonna make your cunt wet.

I punch his temple, but he only presses harder. He’s bigger and heavier, and no matter how hard I fight, I can’t push him off. Through the ringing in my ears, I faintly hear people calling for help downstairs, but I don’t have more than a few seconds of air in me. My lungs have turned into burning coals, and my consciousness is slipping away.

“You should’ve just taken it,”

he hisses in my face. “You could’ve been my sweetheart.”

I can suddenly breathe when he’s no longer on top of me. I cough, blinking the blurriness away in time to see Buck throw my attacker off the rail. He screams as he falls.

Still coughing, I move to stand. The one I hit on the back of the head is lying unconscious, while the one I cut is cradling his bleeding face on the floor, watching me with fear in his eyes.

“You’re good?”

Buck asks, blood dripping from his nose and into his mouth. By the way he’s standing, some of his ribs must be cracked or broken.

I rub my aching neck. “Yeah, you?”

“Been better.”

I turn my head at the sound of heavy footsteps.

“On your knees,”

Buck hisses. “Whatever happens, don’t fight them. They don’t want to lose any more people.”

Not sure if it’s true, I sink to my knees, my hands behind my head.

Three guards arrive, stun batons in hand. They look around at the bloody scene, and before I can explain, the man whose face I cut shouts, “They attacked us! They threw Jimmy down!”

“He’s lying! We—”

The baton strikes my back mid-sentence. My body clenches, flames igniting in my veins. I slump to my side, twitching in agony until I feel nothing at all.