The Wasting

23-Lies

In the moonlight, Marina searched wildly through her bag. "It's not here," she continued rummaging in a rage.

"What is it Nana?" Leon asked remaining even keeled.

"There are only eighteen." She continued her third recheck.

"Eighteen what Nana?" Leon peered over her shoulder and gapped into the bag.

"How many copies of The Book did you make Leon?"

"Nineteen, why?" Now it was Leon's turn not to get it.

"Because I only have eighteen replicas in my bag. Did you grab one? Maybe you have the nineteenth copy in your backpack," Marina asked hoping.

Leon unzipped his pack and did a fast search.
"Uh... no... I just have some nasty peaches and stinky old tuna," Leon said as he held up a sample in each hand.

"Then I have to go back down." Marina hoisted her leg up and over the well wall.

Leon grabbed his grandmother's arm. "Forget it Nana. It's not safe--you said so yourself. Besides we have eighteen; eighteen's good enough."

"Woods never settle for good enough." Marina swung her other leg up and over the side and continued her descent.

"Keep an eye out Leon. If you sense trouble run and hide." She dropped out of sight with only her miner's light visible below.

Leon peered over the side. He was insulted. "Run and hide? How manly. Some people have their mommies to fight their battles for them. I have my grandma." He plopped down on the ground and took a gulp of stale bottled water while he longed for something Marina called Coca Cola. "I'm not a coward..."  Still sulking he stood up and paced. "My whole life people have been hiding me... I'm fifteen years old. I'm a man not an infant... a man-fant."  He hollered down the well once again, "And one day I'm gonna get a chance to prove it too!" His voice echoed, alerting murder of crows hiding in the trees.

A mysterious, dark cloud passed in front of the moon. In the gloom of night, he felt small beings darting at his head. Over and over, the flying beasts thumped him about the head and face. Leon shielded his eyes with crossed arms and cried like a baby. In the midst of the attack, he leaped over the well wall and scurried down the metal rungs. Once safe from the night creatures he huddled just inside the tunnel, anticipating the return of his grandmother.

After what seemed like an eternity, Leon impatiently crawled back towards their underground safe house. The cold and clammy feeling was stronger than ever and he thought to himself, "It's absolutely not due to my almost wetting myself." Leon felt ashamed of his fear. Suddenly the shame grew and took on a life of its own. Ahead of Leon, he perceived an unfamiliar voice in the passageway.

"Leon you need to live for yourself... not your Nana. What are you a man or a mouse?"

"Who's there?" Leon asked terrified.

"A concerned citizen," the voice taunted.

"A citizen from where?" Leon crawled backwards.

"I am not from deplorable Woodsburgh, if that is what you are indicating." The voice was pretentious and effected. Although its syllables vocalized like actual words, the inflection behind them was unrecognizable. It resembled speech both inhuman as well as inhumane. Whoever sported the indecent rhetoric knew Leon keenly.

"So Leon exactly why do you hide and soil yourself?" The voice echoed and bounce off the dirt walls.

Leon defended, "I did not soil myself."

"My mistake..." said the voice.

Leon felt the eerie voice inside him and at the same time it sounded like it echoed in a cavern.  "Are you with the military?" Leon inquired trying to be brave.