minutes began, I prayed for two things; One. I prayed that I made it back on time—so I would be welcomed back into the only home that I had ever known for the last two years.
And two. I prayed that Colin was alive, well, and didn’t die for real this time. And that hopefully, when I returned, he was inside of our underground world, at the bottom of the rope latter, waiting for me.
Chapter 9: The Boy With The Violet Eyes
But of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, thou shalt not eat of it: for in the day that thou eatest thereof thou shalt surely die. ~ Genesis 2:17
“Seven hundred eighteen. Seven hundred nineteen. Seven hundred twenty.” I decided that counting the numerous pebbles around me was the best way to keep time. Since I didn’t have a watch, I had to be as accurate as possible and going with my gut wasn’t accurate at all.
The brilliant idea of counting the rocks came to me when I was thinking about my time in elementary school. I couldn’t remember exactly how old I was when I learned to tell time correctly, but I did remember that there were sixty seconds in a minute. Then I multiplied that by the number of minutes I’d been waiting for Colin. Twelve. Whole. Minutes. Twelve minutes equaled seven hundred and twenty rocks. And those twelve minutes had been the longest twelve minutes of my short life.
“I have to go,” I sighed. Staying out here on my own was not an option. If the council or my parents would have educated me on how to survive on the new, and in my opinion, not improved earth, I was positive that I would have no problem being out here on my own. But they didn’t educate me on survival skills. They educated me on how to find items on their stupid list. Why didn’t they think we needed to learn survivalist skills?
That was one of the many things I disliked about the way our world was ran. We were too sheltered—like we were living under a microscope—everyone was watched carefully and a lot of discussions were kept secret or only revealed to certain people. Sure, it was safer that way, but with safety should also come precaution.
Sometimes, because I was so good at keeping myself hidden, I’d eavesdrop on some of their conversations. Several members of the council ranted about the same stuff all the time. Like how smart the cannibals were. And from all the stories I’d heard, I didn’t have any doubts about that. I liked to think, that if the council members were actually as smart as they thought they were, they would be one step ahead of the genius, flesh eating humans. But they weren’t.
The only separations that we had from earth were: a hole in the ground that was six, maybe seven feet deep: a braided, flimsy rope ladder: and a gigantic rock that covered the hole Colin and I emerged from.
Whenever I heard the council members talking about how safe we were, I always asked myself a few questions. How long would it take before the cannibals figured us out? How long would it be before they founds us? Smart people caught on to random things quickly. So, when would they finally put two and two together?
Realistically, all they needed was to find a few members of their group so they could help each other lift the giant rock that kept us hidden. If they hit us with a surprise attack, we‘d never see it coming. It would be like an all you can eat human buffet.
When my father first told me that the cannibals liked to travel in groups, I found that kind of strange. “They’re cannibals for God’s sake,” I said to my father. “Wouldn’t they want to eat each other?”
At the time, my father’s reply didn’t make any sense. “Of course they do,” he began, “They’re human beings who eat other human beings, which is why eventually they would have to turn on each other. But….” And this was the part that finally made me understand the cannibals’ nature. “In any complicated situation, it is much easier to function as a group.
Chelsea Camaron, Mj Fields