The Anomaly Affliction

Fifteen

When I get out of the car, one of the men reaches through the hole in the car window and retrieves the rock that woke me up. Then the grey-haired man lights a flashlight and starts to lead the group away from the screen.

Walking is still difficult because of the pain in my abdomen, but I can't do anything about that. I try to ignore it and carry on walking. I'm almost used to it by now.

As we walk past car after car, one of the men appears by my side and says: "Sorry for the scare tactics back there." He has the deepest voice I've ever heard.

I look at him. It's still too dark to see him properly, because the grey-haired man with the flashlight is at the front, but I see an outline.

"It's okay," I reply, not really knowing how else to respond.

"We need to be a bit weary of strangers out here," he continues. "You'll grow to understand."

I think back to seeing these men from a distance and deciding not to show myself. "I already understand."

The man says nothing.

After a lot of walking, I realise that they're taking me out of the scrapyard.

"Where are we going?" I ask.

At the front of the group, the grey-haired man moves his flashlight to the left, and I see a large dusty truck ahead.

"That truck," he says. "Home sweet home."

When we reach the truck, I realise that the back doors are open.

"I'll get the light," the grey-haired man tells us, heading towards the truck. Everyone else stays put.

Once he has entered the truck from the back doors, he turns the flashlight off, and I lose sight of him. Then, I see a tiny flame stand out in the blackness. It seems to move to the right and down - I presume the man is holding a lighter. Suddenly, light shoots all the way round the perimeter of the inside of the truck, high up, until there is a thick line of light that almost blinds me. I know what this is - it's a Sparklight. They're cables that illuminate when lit with a lighter, sold in Nacoma as decorations.

While my eyes are adjusting to the light, the grey-haired man calls: "Come on in."

I follow the other men into the truck. Clothes are strewn all over the floor, and there is a large blanket made of dull-coloured clothes badly sewn together. It becomes clear that each man has a separate sleeping area. The blanket covers the majority of the floor, acting (I presume) like a mattress for everyone. T-shirts that have been torn down the middle to spread out more, and unzipped jackets and hoodies, are lying on top of the blanket - I guess that's the closest you can get to duvets out here. Scrunched up clothes are atop the t-shirts and jackets, acting as pillows. I look around the truck and realise just how bad it must be to live out here.

So why the hell are these men here?

They all sit down in their respective sleeping spots, with their backs against the walls of the truck. The grey-haired man sits down last, and I'm left standing in the middle, unsure of what to do.

"Violet, you can sleep next to Nova here," the grey-haired man says, gesturing to the person next to him.

I turn to face the "Nova" person next to him, and realise that this group is not entirely made up of men. A quick look at Nova tells me that she is, in fact, a woman. She has a long face, with hazel eyes and a crooked nose, a salmon-coloured t-shirt and scruffy, light brown hair down to her neck. When I look at her she doesn't acknowledge me or say anything - she simply looks at me in a scrutinising manner.