SO BECKONS THE NIGHT

The Red Stuff

"Dad?"

     "Yes, son?"

     "What's all the red stuff in those jars?"

     The father didn't answer right away.

     "Dad?"

     "It's food, son."

     "Food?"

     "Yes."

     "For who?"

     "For us."

     "Why?  I thought there was all kinds of food?"

     "There is but we can't eat it anymore."

     "Why not?"

     "Because it's been contaminated."

     "How did it become contaminated?"

     "Because of all the wars we fought over the centuries, son.  Too much chemical warfare contaminated our air and infected our food supply.  We weren't aware of it until recently."

     "Did we find this out while I was in a coma?"

     "Yes.  Lots of information came our way then.  It caused society to break out in a panic and anarchy broke out everywhere."

     "So...did lots of people die?"

     "Yes.  And there were a lot who didn't."

     "What happened to them?"

     "They went to camps outside different parts of society."

     "Why, Dad?"

     "Because they proved to be the strongest in case of another war."

     "Will there be another war, Dad?"

     "I don't know, son."

     Father and son stared out of the large bay window overlooking ocean.  The scenery looked normal:  the sun, beautiful in its orange and and red, was dipping below the darkened horizon; the water reflected the sun's rays perfectly; the breeze was crisp and brisk.

     "So, Dad."

     "Yes, son."

     "What's going to happen to those people in those camps?"

     "Nothing's going to happen to them."

     "Really?"

     "Yes.  They are being trained for combat by our government's top secret military personnel in case of another war like I told you."

     "But why are they isolated from everybody else?"

     "Because they are stronger than us, son."

     "Stronger?  How?"

     "They're not sick."

     The son looked up at his father.  "We are, aren't we?"

     The father held his son close.  "Yes."

     The son was silent a moment.  "Was that how I ended up in the coma?"

     "Yes.  You were very sick.  I thought I was going to lose you."

     "Is momma there in those camps?"

     "Yes."

     "Will we ever see her again?"

     "I don't know, son."

     The son suddenly spasmed in a coughing fit.

     After calming the boy down, the father removed a another jar from the refrigerator and opened it, pouring the contents into clean glass.

     The son took the beverage and stared at the thick liquid for a moment before bringing it to his lips and tasting it.

     "It tastes a little weird."

     "Sweet?"

     "Yeah.  Kinda."

     The father chuckled sadly.  "That's going to be our food from now on.  You might as well get used to it, son."

     "Where does this stuff come from?"

     "It comes from the people in the camps."

     "It comes from them?"

     "Yes.  We need their blood to survive.  Their vitals are a lot stronger than ours."

©2016/2017, All rights reserved.