Legacy (Part 1)

I came of age in a time of no heroes. A time where everyone was too cowardly to stand up for what they believed in and a time where the voice of the people was just a rumor and completely nonexistent. The fear had struck humanity harder than anything they’ve experienced in the past and since we’ve grown accustom to no one ever countering what we said or did, we felt superior; but when the unthinkable happened, they ran with their tails between their legs. No one expected a full on invasion of such caliber that it would leave almost half the human population dead and the other half either kissing their asses or wallowing in the slums.

I ended up with the half that decided to hold our pride and not follow the tails of our invaders. We’ve been wallowing in the leftovers since the very beginning of this new society and I’ve been stuck living here my entire life. No adequate food supply exist beyond The Walls so we’re forced to work jobs that could kill us for meals that are only enough to satisfy one to two people, possibly four if you knew how to share. Any and all food that was actually edible was shipped straight to The Walls and when something went bad or there was just a little too much, they’d throw it out to those in the slums to keep us alive another day so they could drag one of us into The Walls to face another person’s trial or be executed in someone else’s place if they could afford it.

Every day, we’re dying down here in the slums with the Elite remaining apathetic. We’ve been out here so long that they called us Trash. It was used to describe what was left of the old that had been replaced with the new. The blank expressions that wandered the streets outside, the expressions of broken spirits, was almost enough to cause an Elite to feel some kind of heart-wrenching pain toward us but they didn’t know how to give pity anymore. Sitting down here was basically like sitting on death row: waiting to die with no escape or hope of getting a chance to live.

“They’re getting hungry,” she spoke quietly from the door, where she was leaning against the frame with folded arms and a worried look. “We’ll need to go into The Wall again tonight.”

I looked at her in confusion, “What happened to the food we brought back yesterday?”

“Butch and his friends stole it last night and ate it. I didn’t find out until this morning,” she sighed.

She saw the anger that flared up inside of me as I sat up out of my excuse for a bed and stormed out of my room. I walked by multiple doors before sliding down the railing of the metal stairs, grabbing a wooden chair that was falling apart and to be used as firewood later, and broke it against the back of the biggest guy within a fifty mile radius.

He fell against the ground and his friends watched in shock as he attempted to stand.

“Stay down!” I kicked him straight into his ribs and watched him roll over onto his back and cough. I stepped over him, grabbed him by his collar, and began hitting him repeatedly in the nose and jaw. After I heard him begin to beg, I hit him one last time, making sure I broke his nose, and dropped him, “You really are a self-centered bastard!”

“Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?” He staggered to his feet as his nose bled a waterfall.

“Saint!” She came running up to me and stood in between us. She pushed me away from him and I saw the crowd forming; I also noticed their hungry and pleading faces.

I clenched my teeth and looked at Butch, “You have the honor of coming with us to get food. If you die, then that’s not my fault.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” Butch snapped.

“You really don’t have a choice in the matter! If you have enough guts to eat the entire food supply with your friends then that must mean that you have enough guts to come with me, into The Walls, to gather food,” I snarled and saw Butch begin to sweat. “Now each and every last one of you are going to come with me tonight before more of us die of starvation. I’m sure you don’t want that lingering over you in the middle of the night, do you?”

“Saint, that’s enough,” I heard his voice before I saw him and that alone made me sick to my stomach. He always does this. I was always the bad guy because I would make someone pay for what they did. I was always the one who got into trouble, not Butch, not anyone else.

I swallowed my anger and disgust before I turned to face him. I simply stood there while everyone gave him the honor of saluting him, even Butch with his nosebleed, saluted.

“You know it’s your job to get enough food for everyone,” he began his lecture towards me. “If you don’t get enough food, then we have problems like this arise, thus leading to more trips having to be taken into The Wall, which none of us enjoy.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I kept my anger under control but my annoyance was clear. “I’m the one running out there every week with Hazel. We’re the ones risking our lives out there getting food so all of you can survive! Don’t stand there and talk as if you’re the one going out there!”

“Saint,” he kept calm, like he always does, and that always ticked me off. “You know the rules, all for one and one for all. When you suffer, we all suffer. We understand that what you do is crucial and very nerve-wracking because the risk you face, while getting the supplies we need, is extremely high. But, we appreciate your effort to help keep this haven afloat and functioning.”

“Hazel,” I began to walk away from him.

“Make sure you bring enough back for everyone this time,” he didn’t turn or even order me to stop.

I didn’t bother turning around or expressing my opinion. It never mattered anyway. I continued to walk and saw Hazel catch up to me quickly as we disappeared into the darker part of the abandoned prison. This part of the prison was usually left untouched and was also where I could be found most days after having gone outside. Hazel never came to this part of the prison by herself; I think she told me it was because she fears the dark or something like that.

The walk was lengthy but we weren’t in a rush. I wasn’t going to sprint to provide a food supply that was perfectly fine last night, now demolished by that sack of lard Butch. I never understood why he was still so fat when we ate so little everyday since this haven was founded. But I look around and see who Butch pushes around; I see their skin and bones and when I try to feed them, our enlightened leader says no extras to anyone.

“You’re getting angry again,” I heard Hazel and that’s when I noticed my fists were clenched and probably had a vein coming out of my forehead. I sighed heavily to help myself calm down and when I did, I felt Hazel link her arm with mine. “You shouldn’t get so angry with Dad all the time.”

Hazel was referring to our leader. He’d been this way even before the invasion happened. I was always the one who had to take the blame for anyone’s problems and I could never try and resolve it, he had to do all the work. He and I never got along and even after our mother died, things just got worst after that. Hazel never had to deal with his behavior like I do since I’m the older one but she sees how it affects me.

“Sorry,” is all I say as I pull a medium sized ring full of keys out of my pocket and grab the heavy padlock holding together rusty chains against a metal door in front of us. I turn the lock and the lock click rings through this entire part of the prison as we hear it echo loudly. She and I pull the chains off and they collapse against the floor with a loud metallic ring. I switch to another key and unlock the door and I push the door open with ease but it still creaks and moans, expressing it’s age.

She stepped in ahead of me and turned on the light. I walked in behind her and shut the door, locking it again and placing the keys on a hook by the door. I watched Hazel struggle to pull the covers off but she eventually got them off without causing the bikes to topple over onto one another again. I pulled out our helmets but paused as I took a moment to think, “Maybe we should take the car?”

“Are you sure?” she looked at me with a curious face. “Do you still have your pass into The Walls?”

I checked the cabinets and shuffled through the many arrays of fake IDs and papers we used to get into and out of the wall sometimes when we didn’t want to try and be stealthy about the situation. I found the passes eventually and flashed them to Hazel, “Mine and yours.”

“Are you sure about using the passes? They might report you this time,” Hazel cautiously took the pass just in case I suddenly decided to change my mind.

But I wasn’t going to. I grabbed the keys to the car I usually drove towards The Walls and slid inside with my sister. For a car that was outside of The Walls, it was impressive. Usually everything outside The Walls looked as if they were going to break down the minute you drove over a small hole wrong or drove too quickly. Most of its body would be rusted and falling apart and just something that most people would rather not look at. However, my car, was specifically stolen from within The Walls so it matched in with the general population. It was a slick black car that shined even in the dim light. The interior was flawless and still looked brand new within the inside but that was mostly because I took care of it every time after I drove it. I made sure all the windows were up and sighed as I adjusted the rear view mirror before pressing the button on the controller to lift the hatch in front of us.

I waited momentarily for it to lift and when it was up high enough, I sped out as fast as I possibly could with this car which would get me from zero to one hundred in no time flat. After I drove over the last hump that connected the edge of the prison to the outside, the latch closed behind us and I headed towards the one place I despised more than anything: The Wall.



The drive was short, as it always is, before we saw the glowing lights that shone from inside of The Wall. Electricity was a luxury nowadays so we were stifling electricity from what was left from the prison generator. However, in The Wall, their lights never seem to be turned off. Seeing The Wall made my stomach churn worse than how it gets when my father appears but I learned to swallow that. Once I was no longer driving on the former pavement that was falling apart and onto the newly paved main road that led into The Wall, I counted the three hundred seconds it would take for me to get into The Wall.

“They’ll probably make you change your clothes again,” Hazel looked at me as I kept my eyes forward.

“They always do,” I flexed my jaw and tightened my grip on the steering wheel. I hated this. I despised it. I despised him. I despise who I was. I despise who I am. I despised everything and anything remotely related to The Wall.

Two hundred and ninety. I began to slow down as I saw the gate.

Two hundred and ninety-two. I pulled out my identification with Hazel and took hers to be scanned.

Two hundred and ninety-four. I slowed down even more.

Two hundred and ninety-five. The usual guard stepped out from his post.

Two hundred and ninety six. He scans both our passes and sweat forms on his brow at the sight of our names.

Two hundred and ninety-eight. He bows vigorously and apologizes for any rudeness he’d given us.

Two hundred and ninety-nine. He opens the gate for us.

Three hundred. I drive into The Walls.

“Welcome home Master Ryan, Madam Riley,” the usual man dressed in a butler uniform greets us within the second room of The Wall after the gate. “Your Father was expecting you today.”

“How can he expect us if we never tell him we’re coming?” my sister questioned as she climbed out of the car.

The butler smiled like always.

“Stock the car with food please, we won’t be staying long,” I pulled off my jacket and threw it into the backseat of the car. “And make sure there’s plenty.”

“Would you like a truck?” the butler questioned.

“We’ll take it,” she responded for me before I could tell him now. “I can drive the truck back, you drive the car. Easy and as simple as that.”

I rolled my eyes, “Whatever you say. Let’s hurry this up so we can get back. I don’t want to stay here long.”

“Always in such a rush, why can’t you just stay a while and hang out with your old man?”

The both of us turned and saw him standing in the doorway. He wore his jet black suit like he always did with a blood red tie and matching handkerchief in his breast pocket. His shoes shined like my car and the silver watch on his wrist glistened in the light. Next to him was a woman who was woman who looked too young to be his wife but the ring on her finger said otherwise and only those that knew her knew her actual age. She stood there in a simple black dress that was shoulder-less so that the diamonds around her neck would be emphasized even more against her bronze color skin. The bracelet on her wrist matched the diamonds around her neck and the design on the skirt of her dress sparkled underneath the light.

“Mom, Dad,” I respond with a simple nod to the both of them.