Island of the Unemployed

LIKE AN EMPTY REALITY SIUT

Boden and Marcus marched through a narrow trail hollowed out of a thick jungle. The path was worn through the years by the footsteps of countless captives marching toward an uncertain future. Bodies littered both side of the path, serving as a tacit warning to anyone who might ask for a rest, or a drink of water. Or maybe they didn't have the mental capacity to sufficiently follow verbal commands. Either way, it became clear the 'easy way' wasn't all that easy.

"Boden! Look at those poor people!" It was their first encounter with death. The limp bodies with blank stares were more than a little unsettling

"Don't worry. Those were probably zombie types anyway. We just have to keep going."

"I'm not sure I can," Marcus mumbled.

"We're almost there. I think I see a clearing." Boden lied, trying to encourage Marcus onward.

"Keep going, freak show!" a soldier shouted into Marcus' face. "We're almost there."

"See! I told you!"

"Where's River and Deja? I haven't seen them since we started this awful march."

"I'm sure they're coming." Boden lied, again. Their absence didn't elude his notice. He guessed Deja made a failed attempt to escape.

The trail opened to a military marching field. Soldiers organized prisoners into lines of ten. A commander stood at attention in the center of the field, stoically observing the process. Lieutenant Haden approached him.

"Sir! All present and accounted for, sir!" By this time, the escape of two prisoners and the death of one soldier had been reported to him, but that was information he chose to keep to himself.

It was a messy situation for Haden, but he knew how to deal with it. The only problem was finding time to do so. He had been particularly busy of late. He still hadn't gotten around to dealing with an escape that took place a few weeks prior. It wasn't a huge issue, though. They weren't going anywhere, and he knew where to find them. He'd take care of the problem the first chance he got.

"Very well, Lieutenant. You may proceed," replied the commander.

"Sir! Yes, sir!" Haden turned to the weary group of mostly unconscious individuals.

"Welcome to Fort Diablo. We will now begin a sorting process and provide you with work assignments. Your full cooperation will be expected. You will be given further instructions when the process is complete."

"What do you make of this, Bonehead?" Boden said to Marcus.

"Hard to tell. Maybe it's just to a job transfer."

"I don't know. This is one hell of a job transfer!" Boden replied. "Having my hands tied behind my back makes me skeptical. I mean, really! What kind of work could these zombie types possibly be suited for? If looking stupid was an occupation they'd be in great shape, but I doubt that's considered a positive around here."

"I'm sure I don't know," Marcus replied, barely paying attention. "Where do you suppose Deja and River are?"

"They must be around here somewhere."

A young sergeant approached the first person in their group, holding a clipboard with a stack of paper thick enough to fill a novel. The faraway look in the first person's eyes showed he had no idea what was taking place. The sergeant peered at his name tag and lifted half the stack of papers. In a few moments, a determination was made.

"Group 'A'."

The soldier standing next to the sergeant slapped a green sticker with an 'A' on the subject and pulled him to his designated area.

"Just like the company to put people into categories, isn't it, Bonehead?" Boden said. "Something tells me it's best not to be in the 'A' group."

Next in line was a female with a similar vacant look.

"Group 'B'," the sergeant said. A soldier slapped a yellow sticker on her and pulled her away.

The third person looked straight ahead, beading with sweat. The sergeant looked at his name tag, then looked him up in the paperwork.

"Group 'D'," the sergeant announced. The man let out a sigh of relief, as a soldier slapped a red sticker on him and led him to his group.

"Group 'D' is where we want to be," Boden whispered out of the corner of his mouth, right before the sergeant approached him. It only took a second or two to make his determination.

"Group 'D'."

Boden looked over at Marcus with a knowing grin and a nod, as he was led away.

The sergeant approached Marcus and did a double take. He peered carefully into Marcus' eyes, glanced down at his name tag, looked him up in the documentation, and peered back up at Marcus. He swung his head around, searching for Haden, who was attending to some other matter. The sergeant scribbled something on the document.

"Group 'A'."

Marcus looked at Boden, who was standing several yards away. His usual smirk was gone. For the first time, Marcus saw genuine concern registered on Boden's face. Don't worry about me, Marcus thought. Marcus wasn't worried. If this was the end of the line for him, he was ready for it. He did feel sad, but not for himself. He wasn't sure what the source of the sadness was. It felt like a loss. The loss of a friend, perhaps.

The sorting ended. The lieutenant approached the commander once again. "Sir! Phase one is complete, sir!"

"Very well, lieutenant. Proceed to phase two." There was a hint of distaste on the commander's face. He didn't like phase two. Phase two kept him awake nights. He understood it had to be done. He just wished it someone else that presided over it.

"Sir! Yes, sir!"

Haden turned and walked over to group 'D'. A Sergeant named Hancock stood there with several other soldiers. Lieutenant Dion, who was Haden's closest friend, stood next to Haden.

"Proceed with phase two." Haden said to the sergeant.

Sergeant Hancock smiled. "Yes sir." He turned and led group 'D' from the marching field.

Haden scratched his head and looked at Dion. "Does that guy give you the creeps as much as he does me?"

"You know, phase two doesn't bother me all that much, but I think that guy enjoys it."

A thick swarm of flies buzzed in an open pit, where thousands of corpses were piled on top of each other. More bodies flew on top in crumpled heaps. Bodies with fresh red stickers with the letter 'D' on them.

One of the last bodies to hit the pile was the one that belonged to Boden. One glance would remove any doubt that Boden was dead. There was no mistaking him for someone merely unconscious. His body was an empty shell, like a reality suit removed at the end of the day, and thrown on the floor. It was Boden's body, but it was not Boden. Wherever Boden was, he most certainly was not there.