The Elim Conspiracy

Chapter Two

There's a flower growing between cracks in the pavement. It's a buttery shade of yellow, and as small as my pinky, but it reminds me of a time long before now. I think about picking it, and keeping it in my pocket, as some kind of sacred artefact; but I decide to leave it, hoping that maybe someone else would see this flower, and have the same fleeting experience of normality that I had.

Cane was somewhere on Harlow street, which was useful to know if I was going to find him. However, the dying man had forgotten to mention where exactly Harlow street was, or even how to get there. I've been all around the city, and along the outskirts, but not once have I knowingly encountered Harlow street.

I push open the door to a small corner shop on the edge of the road, hoping to find a travel map of the town. The rusted doorbell rings briefly as I enter, but other than that, the place is in a complete silence. The floor boards are splintered and covered in a thick layer of something brown and sticky. The shelves are broken and trashed with pieces of old litter. There's a faint smell of burning wood that I can't quite figure out where it's coming from. I slide myself over the counter top, pushing my way through old magazines and newspapers. To my dismay, no travel maps are in stock. I figure that all the maps would have been taken when everything started. People were desperate to leave the cities, to find a safe haven somewhere else. But there was nowhere safe left to go.

Except Elim.

I search through the darkened stock room, ripping open cardboard boxes and tipping their contents on to the floor. Most of the boxes were filled with packing peanuts, or bubble wrap, which were completely useless to me. I pull off the sellotape to a smaller box that looked untouched, tipping it upside down. My eyes widen in excitement when I see the dozens of crisp packets that fall out. I rummage through them, making sure to check the expiration dates. March 2056. They were only a month out of date, which was as good as food got these days. I shove as many as I can into my backpack, stuffing the rest into my pockets.

"What do you think you're doing?"

I flinch, slowly lifting my head up to see where the voice was coming from. Less than five feet in front of me was a man in a leather jacket and faded blue jeans. He's wearing dark sunglasses, and has a red spider tattoo centred on his collar bone. I recognise the symbol, but can't quite make out where I'd seen it last. He spits a wad of saliva onto the floor next to me, removing his sunglasses. I shuffle away from the wet patch on the floor, trying not to gag at the smell.

"I'm sorry, I was just looking for a map-"

"In the crisp boxes?"

He snarls, cutting me off. I look down at the wrappers surrounding my body, realising how bad it seemed.

"No, actually I was-"

"What else did you take?"

He snatches my backpack from my hands, tipping out the contents on to my lap. He kicks my things around, scoffing at how little I had.

"Nothing!"

I shout defensively, collecting my belongings and shoving them back into my tattered bag.

"Yeah right, you little bandit, you're coming with me"

He grabs the collar of my jacket, pulling me hastily on to my feet.

"Bandit? I'm not a bandit!"

I protest aloud, fidgeting in his tight grip. He's almost two feet taller than me, and a lot stronger than he seemed. I struggle to free myself, amusing him with my efforts, eventually giving up.

"We'll see about that"

He drags me away from the storage room, and out of the back door of the shop itself. A wide black van with smudged graffiti along the doors is parked on the pavement, the engine still running. A girl of about 20 years of age jumps out the drivers seat, sliding the back door open just in time for the man to throw me inside. My chin hits the metal flooring, causing a sharp tingling pain throughout my mouth. I try to ignore it, deciding this was my chance to escape, but before I can even move, I feel two sets of hands pinning me down. I look around hopelessly, panic rising in my chest.

"What did she do?"

I hear the girl ask the man, muffled through the thick metal doors.

"Bandit"

The man states, and that's more than enough to make anyone hate you in this world.

The hands don't loosen their grips on my wrists, and the van rolls further and further away.