Contagious - Chapters 1 and 2
Trinn is an average girl living in the future nation of Turyc. But when she gets recruited into an army to fight the Gone, will she be able to give up everything she has?
Chapter 1
I live in Turyc - the nation built up from the ruins of a place once called North America. Our nation prospered for several centuries, until the Contagion came, dividing the people into their separate groups.
There are four types of life in Turyc - the Contagious, the Immune, the Stable, and the Gone.
The Contagious carry the Contagion, though it has no threat to them, but no other living being would ever want to be near them. It’s too risky. The Contagion would kill them. Or worse.
The Immune are those who’ve had the Cure - mostly the rich, sometimes the just plain lucky. There are those who’ve managed to steal the Cure, but that’s probably just stories that poor mothers tell their children at night, trying to get them to keep hope and look toward tomorrow. They know that they’ll probably never get the Cure. But that’s what hope does. It keeps us looking for the best of things.
The Stable are those who aren’t Immune, and aren’t Contagious. They’re just there. Unaffected, unharmed, living normal lives. For the time being. We all know that life on Turyc can change so quickly.
And then there’s the Gone. The horrible, life-sucking creatures that seem to only want to kill. The Contagion got to them, and slowly ate away at their heart, soul, and mind, turning them into disgusting creatures with no capable thought. Only instinct. And that instinct is a predator’s instinct.
The leaders of Turyc are afraid. The fear the Contagion will sweep away all life. So they invented the Cure. But it’s limited, and oh so expensive. Progress on the Cure is slow, and the Gone just kept piling up, so the leaders decided to fight back. They started recruiting - recruiting for an army, using only the Contagious. They don’t use the Immune - something bad could happen to them and then their precious Cure would’ve been wasted. The leaders don’t want anyone "useful" to die helping the nation. So they rely on us.
The Contagious.
***************************************************************************
Chapter 2
I awake to the familiar smell of Sunday morning sausage. Sounds of Mama singing float in through the curtain dividing my room from the family room. Castor sits up in bed next to me, multiple cowlicks sticking up in his chocolate-colored hair. "Sunday sausage, Trin," he mumbles, "It’s gonna be good." He smiles, showing his dimples. I reach over to ruffle his hair. "Go get dressed, Castor."
He smiles and crosses the room to the dresser we share. We share pretty much everything here. The dresser, the bed, the bathroom, the hair brushes - everything. Castor is only eight, so he doesn’t take up much space. But we don’t exactly have too much space.
We live in the bad neighborhoods in one of the medical districts near the capital city in Turyc. A few miles away, the Immune live in huge, ditsy mansions stuffed to the brim with luxuries. And then the Stable, with mild-sized houses and enough to get by on, and a little further on, the Contagious live. Only a few families live on my street - most have moved out to better neighborhoods if they have the money, and quite a few have died. We remain because we have no money to move or get anything nicer.
I sit up in bed and walk over to the dresser that Castor is ruffling through. I bend and pick up a shirt, old and ratty and quite an unfortunate pattern, pulling it up over my head. I do the same with pants and then step under the curtain and into the family room, where Mama and Papa sleep. Papa sits at the table, reading the newspaper. Mama stands at the stove, whistling and singing while frying the sausage she cooks every Sunday. It’s the only day Mama and Papa don’t work, so we’re allowed to splurge a little on meals on Sundays.
A TV blares in the corner of the room, blasting the Turyc news in its own fuzzy, black and white way. Papa glances up from the newspaper. "Morning, chickadees." He reaches out to Castor and nudges his cheek. "Sleep well?"
I smile halfheartedly. "Enough."
He nods and goes back to his newspaper. Mama picks the sausage out of the pan and plops some on each of our plates. When she’s finished, she pulls up a chair and smiles. "Well?" She says, her voice fluffy and sweet like the lavender flowers growing in the back, "What’re you waiting for? Dig in!"
Immediately we all take bites into our breakfast, savoring every bite we taste, knowing we won’t be getting anything this good for another week. The announcer on the TV is talking about the Contagious Army again. "…and so the Council has decided that the vigorous attempts at the Contagious Army are to be even more deliberate, and they are now recruiting…"
"Thank you, Mama!" Castor interrupts.
"Hush, Castor," I spit out. "I’m listening to the news."
"…anyone over the age of sixteen is now subject to be drawn. Commander Skye Williams has now been appointed to lead training centers in the capital for the army and she will be heading…"
"Oh, don’t listen to that," Papa says, "It’s all garbage."
"But they’re talking about the Contagious Army!"
Mama drops her fork. "I told you to stop worrying about that, Trin. For one, you aren’t old enough. And for two, there is no way on Earth that I would ever let that stupid Council take my baby."
"…officials are out on the hunt now and the new recruits will be brought in by -"
The TV shuts off with a noisy click. I turn to see Papa staring challengingly at me with the remote poised in his old, callused fingers. "I told you to stop listening, Trin."
"But -"
"No," Mama interjects, "Enough. I made a delicious breakfast and no one is enjoying it."
"Fine," I say bitterly, picking up my fork and plopping a piece of sausage in my mouth.
We eat in silence for the next few moments, Papa glancing over at me from his newspaper every few minutes.
A knock sounds through the house, powerful and heavy. Mama rolls her eyes, pushing away from the table. "Commminnggg!" She calls, annoyed. The knock sounds again and she walks quicker, shuffling her little feet. "Good God, hold on a minute!" She disappears into the foyer.
Castor nudges my arm. "Wanna go play Keep Away after breakfast outside?" He wiggles!" She calls, annoyed. The knock sounds again and she walks quicker, shuffling her little feet. "Good God, hold on a minute!" She disappears into the foyer.
Castor nudges my arm. "Wanna go play Keep Away after breakfast outside?" He wiggles a little bouncy ball in my face.
I shrug. "Sure, whatever." I go back to eating my sausage.
"Just as long as you don’t break anything." Papa says, without even looking up.
Out in the foyer I hear Mama’s voice raising. She’s getting mad. I freeze with the fork halfway to my mouth, listening. A man’s voice rings through the hall next the family room, then a woman’s. And then there’s Mama yelling at both of them. The voices get closer, and then I see Mama entering the room, leading both of strangers.
The man is tall, in his late twenties, with dark hair and thick shoulders that slightly resemble a wall of bricks. He gruff and muscled and his voice reminds me of metal on stone. The woman is dainty and perfect, with sleek blonde hair and perfect red lips. But she looks just as scary as the man, just in a different way. They both are wearing suits and look slightly disgusted about our home. I can tell they’re from the capital city. They definitely have the money.
The woman eyes me carefully. "Yes, she’s perfect."
I stand. "Uh, excuse me?"
The woman turns to Mama, who stands stiff as a board, her face pale. "She’ll be coming with us."
Mama recovers her senses and stands taller, all five feet of her. She glares at the woman, infuriated. "I think not." She hisses.
The woman only flicks her hand dismissively. "Take the girl, Red. It’s time to go."
The man barrels toward me but I duck under his outstretched arm. "Oh, no thanks." He spins and reaches out to grab me, but I turn and sprint for the door. A hand grabs me by the belt and I’m yanked back. The man wraps both arms around my waist and lifts me over his shoulders. I struggle and kick him and eventually find my way out of his arms. Hot tears sting my cheeks. I run into Mama’s outstretched arms, quivering. "Don’t let them take me, Mama." In the corner, I see Papa ushering Castor behind the couch. Papa strides back over and stands in front of Mama and I.
"No one is going anywhere," he spits.
The man - Red - laughs and walks towards us. Papa stands and punches him, but Red is nearly a foot taller than Papa and he shoves Papa out-of-the-way. Red rips me from Mama’s arms and throws me over his shoulder. The woman holds Mama back so Red can exit the room. I kick and strain against him, tears streaming down my face, but it does me no good. Red’s too strong. I slump against his shoulder. "Mama! Papa! Castor!" I scream, knowing that the short glimpse I get of them as the door closes will be my last.
I live in Turyc - the nation built up from the ruins of a place once called North America. Our nation prospered for several centuries, until the Contagion came, dividing the people into their separate groups.
There are four types of life in Turyc - the Contagious, the Immune, the Stable, and the Gone.
The Contagious carry the Contagion, though it has no threat to them, but no other living being would ever want to be near them. It’s too risky. The Contagion would kill them. Or worse.
The Immune are those who’ve had the Cure - mostly the rich, sometimes the just plain lucky. There are those who’ve managed to steal the Cure, but that’s probably just stories that poor mothers tell their children at night, trying to get them to keep hope and look toward tomorrow. They know that they’ll probably never get the Cure. But that’s what hope does. It keeps us looking for the best of things.
The Stable are those who aren’t Immune, and aren’t Contagious. They’re just there. Unaffected, unharmed, living normal lives. For the time being. We all know that life on Turyc can change so quickly.
And then there’s the Gone. The horrible, life-sucking creatures that seem to only want to kill. The Contagion got to them, and slowly ate away at their heart, soul, and mind, turning them into disgusting creatures with no capable thought. Only instinct. And that instinct is a predator’s instinct.
The leaders of Turyc are afraid. The fear the Contagion will sweep away all life. So they invented the Cure. But it’s limited, and oh so expensive. Progress on the Cure is slow, and the Gone just kept piling up, so the leaders decided to fight back. They started recruiting - recruiting for an army, using only the Contagious. They don’t use the Immune - something bad could happen to them and then their precious Cure would’ve been wasted. The leaders don’t want anyone "useful" to die helping the nation. So they rely on us.
The Contagious.
***************************************************************************
Chapter 2
I awake to the familiar smell of Sunday morning sausage. Sounds of Mama singing float in through the curtain dividing my room from the family room. Castor sits up in bed next to me, multiple cowlicks sticking up in his chocolate-colored hair. "Sunday sausage, Trin," he mumbles, "It’s gonna be good." He smiles, showing his dimples. I reach over to ruffle his hair. "Go get dressed, Castor."
He smiles and crosses the room to the dresser we share. We share pretty much everything here. The dresser, the bed, the bathroom, the hair brushes - everything. Castor is only eight, so he doesn’t take up much space. But we don’t exactly have too much space.
We live in the bad neighborhoods in one of the medical districts near the capital city in Turyc. A few miles away, the Immune live in huge, ditsy mansions stuffed to the brim with luxuries. And then the Stable, with mild-sized houses and enough to get by on, and a little further on, the Contagious live. Only a few families live on my street - most have moved out to better neighborhoods if they have the money, and quite a few have died. We remain because we have no money to move or get anything nicer.
I sit up in bed and walk over to the dresser that Castor is ruffling through. I bend and pick up a shirt, old and ratty and quite an unfortunate pattern, pulling it up over my head. I do the same with pants and then step under the curtain and into the family room, where Mama and Papa sleep. Papa sits at the table, reading the newspaper. Mama stands at the stove, whistling and singing while frying the sausage she cooks every Sunday. It’s the only day Mama and Papa don’t work, so we’re allowed to splurge a little on meals on Sundays.
A TV blares in the corner of the room, blasting the Turyc news in its own fuzzy, black and white way. Papa glances up from the newspaper. "Morning, chickadees." He reaches out to Castor and nudges his cheek. "Sleep well?"
I smile halfheartedly. "Enough."
He nods and goes back to his newspaper. Mama picks the sausage out of the pan and plops some on each of our plates. When she’s finished, she pulls up a chair and smiles. "Well?" She says, her voice fluffy and sweet like the lavender flowers growing in the back, "What’re you waiting for? Dig in!"
Immediately we all take bites into our breakfast, savoring every bite we taste, knowing we won’t be getting anything this good for another week. The announcer on the TV is talking about the Contagious Army again. "…and so the Council has decided that the vigorous attempts at the Contagious Army are to be even more deliberate, and they are now recruiting…"
"Thank you, Mama!" Castor interrupts.
"Hush, Castor," I spit out. "I’m listening to the news."
"…anyone over the age of sixteen is now subject to be drawn. Commander Skye Williams has now been appointed to lead training centers in the capital for the army and she will be heading…"
"Oh, don’t listen to that," Papa says, "It’s all garbage."
"But they’re talking about the Contagious Army!"
Mama drops her fork. "I told you to stop worrying about that, Trin. For one, you aren’t old enough. And for two, there is no way on Earth that I would ever let that stupid Council take my baby."
"…officials are out on the hunt now and the new recruits will be brought in by -"
The TV shuts off with a noisy click. I turn to see Papa staring challengingly at me with the remote poised in his old, callused fingers. "I told you to stop listening, Trin."
"But -"
"No," Mama interjects, "Enough. I made a delicious breakfast and no one is enjoying it."
"Fine," I say bitterly, picking up my fork and plopping a piece of sausage in my mouth.
We eat in silence for the next few moments, Papa glancing over at me from his newspaper every few minutes.
A knock sounds through the house, powerful and heavy. Mama rolls her eyes, pushing away from the table. "Commminnggg!" She calls, annoyed. The knock sounds again and she walks quicker, shuffling her little feet. "Good God, hold on a minute!" She disappears into the foyer.
Castor nudges my arm. "Wanna go play Keep Away after breakfast outside?" He wiggles!" She calls, annoyed. The knock sounds again and she walks quicker, shuffling her little feet. "Good God, hold on a minute!" She disappears into the foyer.
Castor nudges my arm. "Wanna go play Keep Away after breakfast outside?" He wiggles a little bouncy ball in my face.
I shrug. "Sure, whatever." I go back to eating my sausage.
"Just as long as you don’t break anything." Papa says, without even looking up.
Out in the foyer I hear Mama’s voice raising. She’s getting mad. I freeze with the fork halfway to my mouth, listening. A man’s voice rings through the hall next the family room, then a woman’s. And then there’s Mama yelling at both of them. The voices get closer, and then I see Mama entering the room, leading both of strangers.
The man is tall, in his late twenties, with dark hair and thick shoulders that slightly resemble a wall of bricks. He gruff and muscled and his voice reminds me of metal on stone. The woman is dainty and perfect, with sleek blonde hair and perfect red lips. But she looks just as scary as the man, just in a different way. They both are wearing suits and look slightly disgusted about our home. I can tell they’re from the capital city. They definitely have the money.
The woman eyes me carefully. "Yes, she’s perfect."
I stand. "Uh, excuse me?"
The woman turns to Mama, who stands stiff as a board, her face pale. "She’ll be coming with us."
Mama recovers her senses and stands taller, all five feet of her. She glares at the woman, infuriated. "I think not." She hisses.
The woman only flicks her hand dismissively. "Take the girl, Red. It’s time to go."
The man barrels toward me but I duck under his outstretched arm. "Oh, no thanks." He spins and reaches out to grab me, but I turn and sprint for the door. A hand grabs me by the belt and I’m yanked back. The man wraps both arms around my waist and lifts me over his shoulders. I struggle and kick him and eventually find my way out of his arms. Hot tears sting my cheeks. I run into Mama’s outstretched arms, quivering. "Don’t let them take me, Mama." In the corner, I see Papa ushering Castor behind the couch. Papa strides back over and stands in front of Mama and I.
"No one is going anywhere," he spits.
The man - Red - laughs and walks towards us. Papa stands and punches him, but Red is nearly a foot taller than Papa and he shoves Papa out-of-the-way. Red rips me from Mama’s arms and throws me over his shoulder. The woman holds Mama back so Red can exit the room. I kick and strain against him, tears streaming down my face, but it does me no good. Red’s too strong. I slump against his shoulder. "Mama! Papa! Castor!" I scream, knowing that the short glimpse I get of them as the door closes will be my last.
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