Read Online Undone: A Dystopian Fiction Novel by Chad Evercroft - Free Book Online
Authors: Chad Evercroft
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carrying it until now.”
It was nine am according to the kitchen clock and we were getting ready to go to the store. Lawrence was pacing around outside, smoking one of the cigarettes from his “emergency” pack. He only smoked during “emergencies,” which meant whenever he was really anxious, like before a final exam. Rick and Beth were in the living room playing chess, both cross-legged on the floor and still wearing their sleeping clothes.
“Do you really think it’s that dangerous in town?” I asked Tyrsa, lowering my voice.
“I don’t know, Morgan. And that’s the problem. We just don’t know what it’s like or what it could turn into. That’s why I like to be prepared for the worst.”
I started to catch some of Lawrence’s anxiety thinking about what “the worst” could be. Would we walk into the middle of another riot? Would the store be cleaned out? Would we be looking at a scenario where we didn’t have any water? What if the police were really on edge and we looked at them the wrong way? It was impossible to distract myself from those fears as we started to walk into town. It was the first really cold day. Without my phone, I didn’t have any real idea of what the temperature was, but the wind made me shiver through my light sweatshirt. Lawrence puffed like a dragon on the end of his cigarette before tossing it on the ground and stomping it out.
He coughed.
“Ok, let’s do this,” he murmured. “We got this.”
The police were everywhere. There were more than before and I could tell by reading their uniform tags that many of them were from Indianapolis. They lined the streets and paced in front of stores, fingers resting on the triggers of their rifles. The tension in the air was so thick it almost made me choke. We were put in a line to enter the store while one-by-one the police frisked the crowd before we were allowed in. It felt like we were entering some kind of prison camp. Everyone had to take out their wallets and show their IDs and either credit cards or cash. If they could not produce an ID or way they planned to pay for goods, they were sent away. Most people went off without a fight, but sometimes they tried to argue or sneak past.
The consequence for disobedience was swift and unmerciful. It seemed like the police were carrying every possible weapon they could be issued. Tasers, batons, rifles, handguns, handcuffs...a middle-aged man who had tried to plead with the police to be let into the store, to find someone else to pay for water for him, was thrown to the ground and handcuffed, his shoulders stretched much farther back than they were designed to. He let out an agonizing cry, but no one dared come to his aid. He was pulled to his feet and dragged off to a police van. Our state of emergency had become a police state.
I glanced at Tyrsa. She looked nervous, her little handgun no doubt burning a hole in her skin. Right before her turn, the man in front of her was revealed to be carrying a hunting knife, and he freaked out. He grabbed at it and was immediately tackled by three large police officers. They pushed into Tyrsa, nearly knocking her over. A female police officer rushed to her rescue and motioned for her to go inside. Tyrsa was not frisked. I watched her enter the store, relief washing over me.
So far so good.
Lawrence and I had our IDs and money examined, were thoroughly and roughly frisked, and sent inside without another look. Tyrsa was waiting for us by the carts.
“This is really messed up,” she said. “You know what this is, right? On the surface, it makes sense. You only let people into a store if you know they can pay; that way, you don’t have this group that’s almost guaranteed to try to steal stuff. But if you go deeper, it’s systematic survival of the fittest. Only an “elite” gets to have access to food and water. Everyone else is just left in the street. It criminalizes poverty.”
Lawrence and I looked at each other. It was
It was nine am according to the kitchen clock and we were getting ready to go to the store. Lawrence was pacing around outside, smoking one of the cigarettes from his “emergency” pack. He only smoked during “emergencies,” which meant whenever he was really anxious, like before a final exam. Rick and Beth were in the living room playing chess, both cross-legged on the floor and still wearing their sleeping clothes.
“Do you really think it’s that dangerous in town?” I asked Tyrsa, lowering my voice.
“I don’t know, Morgan. And that’s the problem. We just don’t know what it’s like or what it could turn into. That’s why I like to be prepared for the worst.”
I started to catch some of Lawrence’s anxiety thinking about what “the worst” could be. Would we walk into the middle of another riot? Would the store be cleaned out? Would we be looking at a scenario where we didn’t have any water? What if the police were really on edge and we looked at them the wrong way? It was impossible to distract myself from those fears as we started to walk into town. It was the first really cold day. Without my phone, I didn’t have any real idea of what the temperature was, but the wind made me shiver through my light sweatshirt. Lawrence puffed like a dragon on the end of his cigarette before tossing it on the ground and stomping it out.
He coughed.
“Ok, let’s do this,” he murmured. “We got this.”
The police were everywhere. There were more than before and I could tell by reading their uniform tags that many of them were from Indianapolis. They lined the streets and paced in front of stores, fingers resting on the triggers of their rifles. The tension in the air was so thick it almost made me choke. We were put in a line to enter the store while one-by-one the police frisked the crowd before we were allowed in. It felt like we were entering some kind of prison camp. Everyone had to take out their wallets and show their IDs and either credit cards or cash. If they could not produce an ID or way they planned to pay for goods, they were sent away. Most people went off without a fight, but sometimes they tried to argue or sneak past.
The consequence for disobedience was swift and unmerciful. It seemed like the police were carrying every possible weapon they could be issued. Tasers, batons, rifles, handguns, handcuffs...a middle-aged man who had tried to plead with the police to be let into the store, to find someone else to pay for water for him, was thrown to the ground and handcuffed, his shoulders stretched much farther back than they were designed to. He let out an agonizing cry, but no one dared come to his aid. He was pulled to his feet and dragged off to a police van. Our state of emergency had become a police state.
I glanced at Tyrsa. She looked nervous, her little handgun no doubt burning a hole in her skin. Right before her turn, the man in front of her was revealed to be carrying a hunting knife, and he freaked out. He grabbed at it and was immediately tackled by three large police officers. They pushed into Tyrsa, nearly knocking her over. A female police officer rushed to her rescue and motioned for her to go inside. Tyrsa was not frisked. I watched her enter the store, relief washing over me.
So far so good.
Lawrence and I had our IDs and money examined, were thoroughly and roughly frisked, and sent inside without another look. Tyrsa was waiting for us by the carts.
“This is really messed up,” she said. “You know what this is, right? On the surface, it makes sense. You only let people into a store if you know they can pay; that way, you don’t have this group that’s almost guaranteed to try to steal stuff. But if you go deeper, it’s systematic survival of the fittest. Only an “elite” gets to have access to food and water. Everyone else is just left in the street. It criminalizes poverty.”
Lawrence and I looked at each other. It was
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