Michael Soll - Scorched

Well, I’m tired. I’m gonna sleep.

It had been six months since I first found Spec. Everybody was shocked and delighted at how quickly it took the strangers to learn our language and customs. Several years before I was ever born, we had caught a few NaNas and tried incorporating them into our society. After a couple of years, they had only learned a few phrases and refused to adjust to our customs, so they were killed. Luckily, Spec did not suffer the same fate as them.

“C’mon, we’ve gotta patrol the borders for father.” I picked up my knife while Spec grabbed his axe. He had constructed the tool a few months ago and actually helped excavate some new territory for our community. Before he could do so, however, he had to be taught about the harmful gasses within the city. Awhile back, while the city was being expanded, one of the miners released a pocket of flammable gas causing a small fire. Luckily, the tunnel he was working in collapsed and the flame was extinguished before it could do any harm to the city.

“Why do we patrol the borders?” my inquisitive friend asked. “If there have been no NaNa sightings in years.”

“We do it because people feel better knowing somebody is checking.” We headed out of the house and off toward the borders.”

Bryan jumped out from behind a stone and yelled, “Freeze savage!” He playfully swiped his knife back and forth. “You’d be dead right now if I wanted to kill you.”

James took out his knife and pressed it against Bryan’s throat. “And you’d be dead if I were a NaNa.”

Bryan pushed the older kid away. “NaNas don’t have knives. Their claws are razor sharp so they don’t need them, duh!” He placed the knife between his fingers and swiped like it were a claw. “Rarwr!”

“They don’t growl, you idiot,” James said dismissively.

Bryan fought back. “How would you know, you never talked to one.”

James pulled Spec to his side. “Well look at Spec. He’s as close to a NaNa that we’ve seen. Do you growl?”

Spec watched him closely. “I don’t think I growl.”

“He’s just saying that cause he don’t know what a growl is. Go grrrrrr.”

Spec looked over at me. I simply shook my head. He stood silently, axe in hand.

“The savage can’t think for himself!” declared Bryan. “It’s like two Joey’s.”

“So what, two Joey’s are better than one,” I said. I looked over at Spec who watched me closely. I nodded my head and he said, “I agree.”

James shook his head and walked out in front. “C’mon, I set up a target.”

We followed behind James, along the outskirts of our city. When we got to the East District Throughway, we had to get on our hands and knees which upset me because I had just washed these pants.

Bryan scraped his knee against the ground and yelped. “Why’d you set it up so far away?!”

James rolled his eyes. “Because if anyone saw us we’d get in trouble.”

We finally reached our little cove where James had set up a life-size dummy. “I go first. Since I’m the oldest,” he declared.

James held the knife firmly in his hand and flung it forward, connecting with the dummy’s right arm.

“My turn!” Bryan jumped in font of us and carelessly flung his knife ahead. It dropped several feet in front of the dummy. “That was just a practice throw, that doesn’t count!”

He ran ahead and picked up the knife. Took a step back and threw again, this time, the knife soared to the left. “Tell me when we’re starting for real,” he yelled as he ran for his weapon.

I stood in front of the dummy and raised my knife, aimed and flung it toward the lifeless being. The point connected with its leg. I smiled over at Spec who stared at me blankly. I smiled and nodded. He mirrored me.

I ran and grabbed my knife. “Here, Spec. Just aim and throw.”

“The savage can’t have a knife!” Bryan squealed. “He’s not allowed.”

“And we’re not supposed to be doing what we’re doing,” James replied.

Spec stood in front and aimed the knife. Put it down. “Why are we doing this?”

“It’s target practice, Spec. Go on, throw it.”

He raised the knife again, but hesitated one more time. “What are we practicing for?”

James and Bryan were getting antsy, but it was my duty to sivilize Spec which meant answering all of his questions to the best of my ability.

“In case NaNas show up, we wanna be able to kill them.”

Spec stared at me for a long time. I could tell he was thinking, but he wasn’t saying anything, and then, after several moments, he asked, “What is kill?”

“You know, to make somebody die.”

“Why would you make somebody die?”

“Because if we don’t kill them, they’ll kill us.”

“Why would they kill us?”

“Because they’re evil.”

Another long moment of thinking until. “What is evil?”

Bryan gave an exacerbated grunt while James raised his knife and heaved it at the dummy.

“You know Spec, like good and bad. You and I are good. NaNas are bad.”

“Why—”

I cut him off because I knew what he was going to ask. “They were just born that way. And we were born good. Like when you help someone in need, that’s good. That’s right.”

“If NaNas are bad and they kill, that means killing is bad.”

“Yeah, you get it.”

“But we’re practicing to kill them.”

“Yeah, but it’s in defense. It’s okay to kill someone if you think they’re going to kill you.”

“How do you know they’re going to kill you?”

Bryan had had enough. He grabbed Spec’s axe and aimed it at the target. “Because they’re NaNas. They’re all bad. They all wanna kill us.” He flung the axe and hit the dummy directly in the leg.

“I did it! That one counted! Did you see that!?”

It was getting late and we were getting tired. As we headed back, Spec tapped me on the shoulder:

“Do you think I could see my friends?”

“Your furalzos?”

“Yes. I haven’t seen them since the auction.”

“But… I’m your friend.”

“You are.”

I was a little hurt by his desire to see his old friends. “Sure, let me see if I can set up a dinner.”

When we got home, I asked my father if we could have a party and invite Cotta and Kaolin’s families over for dinner. He seemed relatively enthusiastic about the prospect of having some distinguished constituents over at his house.

First, I walked over to the Wilkins where I was initially greeted by Cotta at the door. “Hello, sir, may I help you?”

“Hi, Cotta. Do you remember me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Are the Wilkins home?”

“Yes, do you have an appointment?”

“No.”

“Would you like to make one?”

“I’m just inviting you all for dinner at my place. Thought you’d wanna hang out with Spec and Kaolin.”

Cotta nodded his head. “Yeah, I’ll ask them if they’re interested, and I’ll get back to you.” He smiled and closed the door.

I turned and headed over to Miss Washburn’s place.

I knocked on the door repeatedly, but there was no answer. I turned to walk away when the woman appeared.

“Can I help you?” she asked, stone-faced.

“Hi — my father would like to invite you and Kaolin over for dinner tonight.”

“She’s not ready to go out in public yet.”

“Well, it’s not really public, it’s just our house. I thought it’d be nice for her to spend some time with Cotta and Spec.”

“No, I’m sorry.” She closed the door in my face and left me standing alone.

When I got home, my father told me the Wilkins had RSVP’d for the dinner, so the party wasn’t going to be a total bust.