Carcass 1.1

Jay’s always imagined crushing heads was a lot like squashing grapes. 

He clenched his fingers and felt the cool and soft insides of the fruit splatter against his skin, dripping down his pale digits. For a brief moment, Jay overlapped the image of the pulverized food with a smirking face. He pressed harder and willed the thought to leave.

The lunchroom was a cacophony of sounds and smells that assaulted every sense. If someone were to step inside, they would have been hit with the aroma of cheap food. Meat that probably wasn’t meat, bread that probably wasn’t bread, and ketchup and mustard that probably wasn’t ketchup or mustard. Each smell blended together into a smoothie of stenches and delivered an unhealthy flavor on top of the already present odor that tainted the room.

It was a large, cavernous space, filled with long tables and plastic chairs that were bolted to the floor. The walls were painted a garish shade of yellow. Fluorescent lights flickered overhead and mixed with the bright sunlight that breached through the windows. The noise level was unbearable, the sounds of hundreds of students talking, laughing, and shouting all melded together into a buzzing wall of sound.

Blank-faced staff slopped a mixture of fruits, vegetables, and the mysterious hamburgers onto flat trays. Most students were eating with friends, chatting away about their meaningless days. Few sat alone, staring at their food or avoiding eye contact with any others. 

Jay felt like he was separated from the monster made from sound, clipped away from the shrieks that bonded one person to another. The lunchroom was both familiar and alien, a microcosm of the school, where everyone was crammed together and forced to share space. 

But it was also the safest place to be, and every moment that passed made Jay more anxious. Soon the bell would ring and he would be forced to make his way to class. There was safety in numbers, but the apathy of his peers was terrifying in practice. 

The pang in his stomach reminded him to eat, but he couldn’t bring himself to swallow the meal. The hunger mixed with his nerves and a cold sweat formed on his back. 

He gritted his teeth. He hated the sensation of weakness he was experiencing, but there was nothing he could do. 

He hated himself even more.

He grabbed his bookbag, making a conscious decision to leave before lunch ended. Perhaps he would be able to make it to his next class without drawing attention. It had worked before.

He dropped his half-eaten meal into the trash and deposited his tray and fork into a bin filled with water, some of it splashed upwards. The liquid was cold and murky, covered in bits of discarded food and sauce. He grabbed a paper towel and wiped the drops off his hand.

He exited the lunchroom with haste, careful not to attract the attention of anyone. The open doors entered a long hallway and Jay moved at a decent pace to the second floor of the school. The hallways still had a few people milling about. Tight-knit groups and cliques ate lunches together. 

Jay frowned and he felt a pang of envy. He moved up the stairs, careful not to turn any corners too fast. There was a method to traveling around the school. A certain rhythm one had to embrace to make it from one destination to the next without encountering others. 

His eyes were downcast and he moved like a rodent through the halls, his steps were quick and quiet. His shoulders were hunched and he clutched the straps of his backpack like they were a lifeline. Every time he passed a ground of students he could feel their stares, sizing him up, judging him. He could hear the giggles and mocking words that followed when he was far enough away. 

He could feel the pit of his stomach churn. An uneasy swirling in his gut warned him of imminent peril. He took a shortcut through a back path, hoping to avoid the common room where he knew they would be. 

Luckily Jay made it to his next class without confrontation. Soon others began to fill in, and soon they were joined by Mrs. Glims, an overweight woman with bulbous eyes and a severe face. She had lost two children during the beast waves and it made her foul and unpleasant. If there was one thing Jay liked about her, it was she was cruel to everyone and not just him. 

She droned on and on, her voice was monotone and seemed to blend into the background noise of the classroom. Whispers and the scratching of pencils upon paper filled the room. The subject matter was uninteresting, and the students slumped in their seats, their eyes glazed over as they struggled to stay awake. 

Jay couldn’t find it in himself to muster the willpower to pay attention. The dated English teacher most often spoke of literary books from before the beast waves. He usually enjoyed listening to her talk about the meaning behind stories, but the lack of a satisfying lunch caused a wave of fatigue to cover his body. It mixed with his nerves and caused him to shiver.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

Mrs. Glims wrote the name of a book on the board, the marker was faded and dry and left an illegible smear across the white surface. The clock on the wall ticked away the minutes, until finally, the bell rang, marking the end of the school day. The classroom rushed out into the hallways and Jay inserted himself in.

There was a strange solace that Jay found within the anonymity of crowds. His small frame could hide in the cracks, his stunted body able to fill in the cavities of the amalgamation of people. There were hundreds of individuals vastly more interesting than the sickly skinny teenager who had no friends. He idly wondered what it would be like to be one of the more interesting people. Someone who had friends, smarts, and good looks. To be normal. Thinking those thoughts always made him sad, so he pushed them away and focused on putting one foot in front of the other. 

It didn’t take long to descend to the first floor and exit to the front of the school. The massive building dominated the surrounding areas. Constructed of red brick, it had a traditional imposing design that hinted at its long history. A wall made of similar material surrounded the building, and a black metallic gate guarded by two middle-aged men sat in the direction of the parking lot. Already, numerous cars, in a variety of conditions, crawled out of the designated area. 

He walked past the gate, under the callous eyes of the guards, and made his way to the street. He didn’t usually go this route, but he knew the general layout of the surroundings. It wouldn’t be long before the public bus came and he loathed the idea of missing it. He just had to make it on the bus before they found him--

Jay felt the hair on the back of his neck rise and his heart clenched in fear. Something felt wrong and he soon found the source.

“Well, I’m glad we found you before we left.” His voice was deep and controlled, there was a hint of a threat underlying his words. 

Jackson Brauste stood tall, his back straight and his shoulders squared. Light blonde hair was combed and slicked over to the side of his head. He wore tailored apparel, well-made clothes stitched to match the shape and musculature of his body. A deep navy blue blazer shone with a subtle sheen that caught the light just so. A light purple tie hung lazily around his neck, flapping loosely in the sparse wind. 

Despite his immaculate demeanor, there was a menacing chill in the young man’s eyes. They were cold and calculating, his jaw was set in a hard firm line. His leather shoes clicked against the paved path. He strode with predatory purpose and set a heavy hand on the much smaller Jay’s shoulder.

“I was worried we were going to have to postpone our little trip. My friends and I were dismayed when you didn’t show up during lunch. I sent James to look in all your usually little hidey holes, but he didn’t find you either.” Jackson leaned in close, his breath smelling of mints. Jay liked to imagine he did to hide the fact that Jackson was rotten inside.

“Come on then. Everyone else is waiting for you. It won’t be long before we're in Central. The park is beautiful this time of year,” Jackson said. His voice promised violence and Jay felt his skin crawl with bumps.

A rough shove sent Jay stumbling toward a red car. The slick design and smooth exterior spoke of money. A few other similarly dressed teenagers surrounded the car. Smoking cigarettes or other substances that were prohibited to be used while underage. Those in authority nearby did nothing besides glance and then turn away. Tim opened the door of the car at the behest of Jackson, who then prompted tossed Jay inside.

The seats were soft, made of supple leather, with detailed stitching that added to a luxurious feel. The hum of the engine and the blast of the air conditioning merged together. A cold wave was released as the other doors opened and the gang of four entered the car. Jay was shoved in the middle backseat, between Tim and George, two muscle-bound friends of Jackson that followed his every word.

The third one was named Alexander. A slender man with square glasses indifferently looked at Jay once and then returned to his phone. Jay knew Alexander cared little for Jackson’s game, but watching him turn away and do nothing to stop what was about to happen crushed a little part of Jay that still hoped.

Jackson peeled out of the parking lot and took off on the road, going well over the city speed limit. Music blared and Jay forced himself not to curl up in the seat. They were ignoring him for now, letting him stew in his anticipation before they struck. It was like watching a dog that had been beaten quiver under the hand of a raised fist. 

A quarter of an hour later the car slowed to a crawl. The crunch of stones under the wheel could be heard from the inside. Jay felt the boy on his left jostle around he undid the seatbelt. He opened the door and slipped outside, Jay felt a rough hand grab his arm and force him to follow. 

The time had passed in a hazy blur and Jay found himself slowly returning back to consciousness. He thought about running. Making a mad dash to a patrolling cop and pleading for her help. Past attempts and previous scornful glares had shown that avenue of escape wasn’t open to those of his status. 

Jay had long come to terms that no one cared. They saw his clothes, his sunken eyes, and his gaunt features and immediately dismissed him as one of the numerous children whose lives had been ruined by the beast waves. A parasite that clung to the body of New Seattle and scraped off the PR forced goodwill of those at the top. 

The four teenagers stood at least head and shoulders above Jay and they corralled him into the park, like stray cattle. Jay felt like one of those mindless bovines who were herded into small boxes and then shot in the head. Except, unlike them, Jay knew what was going to happen.

Central Park was located in the inner portion of the city. A lush oasis in the middle of the hustle and bustle of urban life. A flat stretch of land dedicated solely to the cultivation of flora and groomed animal life. 

Carefully manicured lawns and colorful flower beds. Tall thin trees towered into the sky, providing shade and shelter from the sun. Benches were scattered throughout the park, along with numerous fountains carved in the image of saviors. Jay would have enjoyed the park if it wasn’t for the fact that it was a standard place for Jackson to beat him to a bloody pulp.

There weren’t many residents at this hour. Only a few women walking strollers and an older man who was jogging on the paved paths. An occasional squirrel idled on branches and the constant screech of seagulls filled the air. The park was located fairly close to one of the beaches that still retained some activity. 

The laughing trailed off as the crew led him deeper into the park, off the designated paths, and into the thicket of trees and bushes. The first punch, while expected, came out of nowhere. A solid fist hit Jay’s lower back and sent him toppling to the ground. 

The much smaller boy let out a grunt of pain, but nothing more. A year of abuse had dulled the agony, and living with the constant injuries made him numb. He heard the wicked laughter from above and felt liquid splash over his head. The sickly intense smell of alcohol filled his nose and clung to his greasy and ragged hair. For a dark moment he thought his mother was here.

A kick to his ribs flipped him over. He saw Jackson’s smirk leaning over him.

“Are you doing okay, Jay? You seem quieter than usual.” His false worry ignited a small flame of fury in Jay’s heart but he didn’t let his face show it. He had read in a book that not showing emotion made the entire act of bullying less fun for the abuser. He steeled his mind, but another nasty kick caused him to involuntarily cry out. He cursed himself silently.

“We’ve known each other for so long, little Jay. I heard a rumor that your father was a sailor. Someone showed me a picture, and I have to say, you look nothing like him. I wonder, can you swim like him? They say sailors are born swimming. A son of a sailor must be able to swim then, right?” Jackson picked Jay up by the back of his shirt, his light body barely anything in the strong young man’s hands. 

Central Park had a few small bodies of water. Enough to let the ducks and geese land in, enough space to watch the wildlife from a safe distance. A few of the ponds were a little more hidden, a little wilder. 

Twigs and branches snapped underfoot as Jackson and his goons went deeper into the park. Jay struggled futilely in his grasp. 

This wasn’t going like it usually did.