He looked up to find a second rock hurling towards his face. He moved to the side to dodge it. Fortunately, that made the ladder collapse.
Oh, shit. I lost my sunscreen.
The full day I sat along the windowsill, resting my head in the frame, checking my split ends as Dig fixed his ladder. Each time he climbed it, it did not work.
“Darling,” I called down to Dig. “I’m going to converse with Fred and Fiona. I’ll be right back.”
He waved. “Alright Princess, I’ll just keep going with this.”
“Don’t be too careful, hurt yourself a little.”
“Will do.”
The nice incest couple convened in the living area. They had the same nose.
“You need to find a boy called Tommy,” I said to Fiona and Fred. “That is important. We must save him. He should not be in here.”
Fred focused on sharpening a knife while Fiona counted pebbles and thumb tacks for her sling shot.
“Nah,” Fred said. “Your brother said we only have to keep you safe. No one else.”
“Then at least let me leave so that I can find him and bring him back here.”
“Nah.”
I went to bed about nine and in the morning, I woke up to find Dig outside again, cornered by five inmates.
Day three. I wiped sleep from my eyes and drank coffee while Dig groaned through a vicious stabbing and managed to eventually kill all five inmates with a single blade.
Holding onto his bleeding wound that was far too deep to heal without stitches, he waved to me. “I’ll be back in a sec, Princess.”
I waved and smiled. “Die, please.”
Now that Dig was away, we decided to trade.
Fiona and Fred had water, but we did not have food, which was not appealing, and Fred wanted more tools to keep his traps in working order. Fiona waved a white flag atop the building and not ten minutes later we received a response.
Trade was a serious business in the Execution Battles.
Inmates regarded white flags honourably, and no one dared harm each other when exchanging goods. It was just bad business. Gossip spread fast. If you injured someone no one would trade with you again.
“Oh! My best friend!” I smiled and waved at the panty snatcher. “How are you?”
When he saw me, he promptly turned and decided to do trade elsewhere.
A group of paedophiles answered our next call.
The trade was fruitful. We accepted cans of food, and they received bottles of water.
“Have you seen a young man called Tommy?” I asked them. “Out there? Green basketball t-shirt? Gangly arms? I am certain you would have noticed him. He is young. He would have caused you all erections.”
“Oh yeah, we saw the kid,” the leader of the group said. “The dumb shit grouped with the cannibals.”
Fuck.
Fuckity fuck.
Young first-timers who appeared weak and unskilled like Tommy had a difficult time finding comrades to team up with. The cannibals always accepted them, pretending they wanted them as a colleague… when really, they wanted them for dinner.
