They Call Me Daring

Chapter 20

"Ditches will kill the grass!" Marta protested.
"Really? No kidding." I groaned, slapping my forehead. I looked at the line of grim-faced survivors baring shovels and hoes, pickaxes and... spoons....
"Okay, um, let's start with a five foot trench along this wall," I began, but Marta spoke up again. She had been the one standing in front of the building waiting to contradict me the moment I had arrived at the apartments.
"I don't see you digging trenches at the Trackerson mansion." She retorted. I sighed.
"Marta, I already explained this." I said tiredly. "We. Have. A. Freaking. Wall. Yes?"
"What about the church?"
"I'm getting to that." I rubbed my temples. "Once you're digging, I'm going to run over there and get them to do the same thing, okay?"
"What about the children?" Marta asked. I blinked.
"What about the children?" I asked back.
"What can they do to help?"
"I don't think...."
"Liam, you're barely fourteen. You're not much older than them." Cony said from the line, hoisting his shovel over his shoulder. I opened my mouth to argue, then realized he was right. Here I was, barely qualified as a teenager, and I was ordering these adults around? What was happening to the world?
"Fine." I said. "They can board up the windows. And bolt all entrances except for one while they're at it." I added, eyeing the dozens of wide open doors.
Once they had begun digging, I turned back to the street and jogged towards the church steeple. Again, I felt sluggish in the daylight, but I drove the pain from my mind and focused on the pounding of my sneakers against the asphalt.
They were waiting for me. A hundred of them gathered out on the front lawn, waiting with shovels and pitch-forks and anything else useful. I jogged up the steps, sweating slightly on the unusually hot day... Well, maybe that wasn't the only reason.
"You guys ready to start work?" I called out nervously.
"What do you think we've been doing our whole lives!?" One of them called out in answer. I grinned, taking off my sweatshirt. My bare arms burned in the light, but the pain kept me focused on the task at hand, and not drifting off the marvel at the very human stench of sweating flesh.... Right.
"Well, then, what are we waiting for?" I instructed them to dig a ditch around the church, a much deeper and wider one than the apartments, because the enormous entry way couldn't be sealed up. They started in with shovels and pickaxes, and the smell of freshly dug earth and split grass filled the air.
I grabbed a shovel this time, because their numbers were far outnumbered by those in the huge apartments. I tried to ignore the contemptuous glances as I joined the line of sweating, panting, digging people, or the way they casually sidled away from me or turned directly at me so as not to expose their backs.
They ignored me- or they tried to, at least, though most were unsuccessful. They shot me furtive glances from corners of their eyes, sizing me up, trying to gauge how many of them I could hurt before they could stop me. I focused on my work. The unusually harsh sun beat down on my back, searing my neck and arms, bringing my focus away from everything else.
After a while, the tall guy who had been working next to me spoke.
"So... you're a Trackerson?"
"Yeah... I guess..." I grimaced. With so much going on, and so many things happening, I tried not to get into my family problems. "I'm Liam. The middle child."
"Yeah... until yesterday, I didn't even know Clark had another brother." The guy stood, leaning on his shovel. He offered his hand. "The name's Ted."
We shook, and then went back to shoveling. It was a few more moments before I dared speak. Any sign of friendship was precious, and needed to be treated like a feral animal.
"Dang, is it just me, or is it hot today?" I panted, wiping the sweat from my forehead.
"Would you like me to say it's just you?" He wiped his dripping face on his sleeve, and bent back over the shovel. He seemed to hesitate before speaking tentatively. "Aren't... aren't, you know, people like... like you... aren't you, like, allergic to sunlight?"
"No kidding. Actually, it's not really an allergy," I said thoughtfully. "More like a thousand knives repeatedly stabbing my body everywhere."
Ted stared at me, not sure whether or not I was joking.
"Kidding," I sighed. "It doesn't hurt.... It's just kinda annoying." I squinted up at the sun. It was probably about nine o'clock in the morning. That meant it would be nearly ten hours until the darkness.
"Oh." Ted laughed, looking relieved. "Must suck."
"Most of it does..." I shrugged. "But like they say, there is no great loss without a small gain."
"What's the gain?" Ted asked. I grinned.
"Maybe I'll show you later."
We dug for another couple of hours. It was hard, sweaty, dirty work, and I was aching all over in another hour. But it was no  harder than a long run, and the fact that this labor could save all our lives- well, theirs anyways-, it kept us going. By around noon, the entire church was surrounded by a two foot trench, and now it was going faster because we were broken through the sod.
"God, it just keeps getting hotter!" Ted grunted, finally tugging his sweat covered shirt off and using it to mop his neck.
"It's freaking October." I panted. Taking my shirt off was starting to sound like a good idea... Except that it would hurt like-
"Lunch break!" Somebody shouted. Our shovels thudded to the ground as everyone sighed in relief and retreated inside to the shade of the church. The lights were off inside, and I closed my eyes, relishing the darkness and cold of the ancient stone walls.
It couldn't last long enough. It seemed like a few seconds and then we were back out in the sweltering heat, shoveling dirt until our backs ached and our faces were red and peeling. I gritted my teeth as the umpteenth splinter entered my skin, but continued to shovel. The pain reminded me just who I was and why I was doing this.
Shovel to dirt, pounding constantly for hours on end, it eventually formed into a steady rhythm. And our labor began to form a trench.
I lost track of time. My mind wandered, I zoned out entirely. Shovel to dirt, the feel of the warm, soft earth squishing beneath your bare toes to the  throbbing of the sores on your hands, the burning sun beating down on our hunched backs and the laughter filling the air. It was so utterly human, the sound of voices raised in the air above the clattering and thumping of shovels and dirt, the laughter at the prospect of daunting challenge... Purely the essence of humanity.
And somehow I was still a part of it.