Shoshanna Evers: The Pulse

Jenna started to grab for it but the man stopped her.

“First you gotta take care of me,” he said, “ ’fore I take care of you.”

Emily scowled in their direction. “Jesus Christ, just let her eat the damn soup first,” she muttered.

The soldier apparently hadn’t noticed her until now. Shit. He walked over to her and lifted her up by her arm. “You got something to say?”

Emily shook her head, frightened. She really needed to learn to keep her mouth shut, especially if she was trying to be invisible.

“Didn’t think so.”

But keeping her mouth shut wasn’t really her thing. Emily cursed under her breath and averted her eyes, but she could hear the sounds of the man unzipping his pants, and Jenna lying down on the old mattress box. It squeaked for a few minutes, Jenna’s moans indicating she was either getting off or pretending to.

When the soldier left, Jenna picked up the stew and drank most of it noisily. Emily could smell the food and she took a deep breath, wishing she could inhale calories.

“Here,” Jenna said, walking over to her with whatever was left in the Styrofoam cup. “You better eat this.”

“Are you sure?” Emily took the cup from the girl, who nodded. “Thank you.” She swallowed it quickly. It didn’t exactly taste good, but it was food. She couldn’t afford to be picky. No one could.

“Hon,” Jenna said. “You really can’t go around pissing off the soldiers, you know that.”

“I’m going to see if I can scrounge anything up,” Emily said. “I need to get off the Tracks for a while. Clear my head.”

She stepped onto the cold concrete platform and walked briskly past the subway cars, keeping her gaze focused straight ahead to give the other women some semblance of privacy.

The entrance to the main terminal loomed before her, people milling about. But those weren’t the voices she heard.

Emily trembled in the dark, trying to breathe as quietly as possible. She could hear two soldiers in a closed room off to her left talking, but more importantly, she could hear… a radio.

A radio— after a year of zero communication with anyone outside of the city.

How had it not been destroyed when the EMP hit?

She looked around furtively. The wide hallway was empty, although she could see the main terminal ahead. Pressing her ear to the thin wooden door, she held her breath, trying to be as still as humanly possible.

American troops overseas… Static blocked out the next words coming from the radio. Shit. Something about rebuilding. Help is available on the federal level… Even the soldiers who must be stationed by the radio were silent now. She imagined they were like her, trying to hear the tinny voice from the radio. She hadn’t heard anything electronic in over a year, but how long had this been kept a secret? How long had the higher-ups known about this, and kept it from the people living in Grand Central?

The first notes of The Star-Spangled Banner burst through the radio’s speakers, sounding like a scratched old-fashioned record or something. If whoever was on the other side of that transmission wanted her to feel patriotic, then mission accomplished. She was filled with anger at whatever country had brought America to its knees with its damned Pulse. She wanted to scream at them, the invisible enemy, and tell them they couldn’t keep her country down, that America would fight back.

But it wasn’t true. As far she could tell, there had been no counterstrikes—at least none the military cared to tell anyone about. Everyone struggled to survive and nothing else got done. Survival took every second of time and ounce of energy.

But how could they hide a radio? A fucking radio . Communication was all anyone wanted—just to know what the hell was going on.

She wanted to bust into the locked room and tell those soldiers she knew the truth, that despite what Colonel Lanche had told everyone… there was news from the outside.

To think there might be a place outside the city where she could be safe. She needed to hear more, to learn more. How exactly was America rebuilding? What did that mean? If she could escape and find a better life for herself, for her friends, and for everyone suffering at the camp, it would be worth it. Any cost was worth it.

Fear had kept her in place for too long. They had broken her. But this… this news would cause a revolution amongst the women on the Tracks.

Which is why Colonel Lanche would want to silence her if he found out she knew about the radio. A radio that wasn’t supposed to exist.

Her only hope was to get that radio in her possession and escape the military camp. Without getting caught.

Emily awoke hourslater, curled up across the hard plastic subway seats, with her mouth covered. Her scream of surprise was muffled by the large, calloused hand.

The darkness kept her from being able to see anything, but she could feel the man’s erection hard against her leg as he lay on top of her.

She bit down hard, tasting blood, and the man yowled, reaching his hand back and slapping Emily’s face.

“What’s wrong?” her roommate Jenna cried out in the dark.

“Shut up, Jenna,” the man growled. It was the Colonel with his hand over her mouth. Emily moaned in recognition.

“Don’t bother with her, come to me,” Jenna purred. Bless her. Emily held her breath, wondering what would happen.

The Colonel didn’t even respond to Jenna’s words. “You cunt, you bit me,” he said, his voice a low growl. He jerked Emily upward until she was standing.

“Come with me,” Colonel Lanche spat, tugging her out of the subway car. He leaned into her ear, his voice low and menacing. “This is what happens when you snoop around.”

He knows. Emily shrieked and kicked at him in mindless fear, earning herself another slap. He threw her down onto the cold concrete subway platform.

How could she convince him she didn’t know about the radio?

A garbage fire burned brightly, and the women standing around it suddenly quieted. Another soldier stepped out of the neighboring car, straightening his clothes. “Sir?” he asked, looking at Lanche’s bleeding hand. A third soldier joined him.

“This bitch attacked me,” he said.

Emily jumped up, scraping her palms as she stumbled again. His words made her tremble. “I wasn’t snooping around, Colonel, I swear. You got bad information—whoever told you differently is a liar.”

As soon as the words flew from her mouth she wished she could take them back. She shouldn’t have said that—not to him, and certainly not in front of his men.

“I’m sorry, I just—” she said, taking a step backward.

A cry escaped her throat as Lanche nodded to one of the other soldiers. “Restrain her.”

A broad-shouldered man in camouflage took her by both arms, effectively holding her in place. Panicked, Emily tried to bolt out of his arms, but he held firm despite a few well-landed kicks to his shins.

“Bring her to the main terminal for punishment,” Lanche ordered.

Emily shrieked as the soldier half-dragged, half-carried her up the ramp to the broken clock by the information booth where disciplinary action was traditionally carried out.

It seemed to take forever to reach the clock and still they were there too soon. Dawn was breaking now and light streamed in through the huge dirty glass windowpanes.

“Get the cane,” Lanche said.

Emily’s throat went dry. She started crying before the cane ever came near her, hating herself for being a blubbering fool. What happened to the strong Emily she’d been before the Pulse? Where had that girl gone?

Lanche’s loud voice and her shameless protests had gathered an audience. “For the crime of insubordination, ten strokes.”