Ransom

Ronnie threw a handful of chicken feed towards the coop. He reached in for a second handful, but stopped suddenly and inspected the bag. He frowned.

"Well Clara, Perdita. Looks like we're rationing again. You ladies have to make do with that. We're running low. I'll toss out some corn for you later."

He smiled fondly at the two hens clucking away in the sunshine and watched them for a while. Today's been a good day, he thought. This weather reminds me of climbing trees and drinking from the hose. I used to do that all the time. Those were the days worth living for, eh?

A low rumbling sound interrupted his nostalgia. Ronnie whipped his head around in alarm. Tanks? On a Tuesday!? They must have caught somebody.

"Perdita! Clara! Back to the house!" Ronnie grabbed Clara by the neck and threw her unceremoniously into the kitchen. Perdita, sensing she was next, ran in the opposite direction. Ronnie took off his father's jacket and ran after her. He cornered Perdita by the shed and threw the jacket over her head. Scooping her up, he ran back to his house where Clara was still tutting angrily in the kitchen. He locked all three bolts and reassembled the plywood slabs against the window.

Ronnie ran to the front door and looked through the peephole. He could see the pale pink shutters of the house in front of his own. Its windows were boarded up, just like his. All the houses in the town were like that. Boarded up, with broken windows, ivy, weeds and rodents taking claim of the once manicured lawns where Ronnie and his friends once played. Wildflowers sprung up in the cracks of the roads, and despite the cool breeze, stillness hovered in the air like a sickness. The distant rumbling gradually became louder until a green behemoth roared into sight, its tires squealing into the silent neighborhood, breathing its black exhaust into the clear air. The word RANSOM was emblazoned on its side.

"The devils! Snakes!” Ronnie whispered angrily.

It drove slowly past Ronnie's house and stopped two houses down. Move on you leeches, no one's there. Ronnie thought, You snatched them up years ago. Men got out of the tank and walked towards the house. They inspected an old tire by the front road, and tossed it in the back of their tank, along with some metal scraps and wooden pallets. One of them looked around and turned his eyes to Ronnie's house. He gestured to his friend and pointed directly at the front door.

Ronnie froze. He could feel his heart beating hard in his chest. Behind him, Clara and Perdita were fluttering their wings.

"Shut up, you two!" he hissed. The men looked for a moment, then climbed in their tank and continued their thunderous ride through other neighborhoods. Ronnie breathed easy again, but his lopsided ears were still red and hot from fear.

"They're gone. We can rest now," he assured his hens. "Tomorrow is Wednesday, and we can't wait for the man in black anymore. I'll go through town and get some feed for you."

Ronnie woke up at 4am the next morning and put on his gold necklace. It was an elegant heart shaped locket, and the only decoration he ever wore. He tucked it into his shirt and began his trek to the abandoned warehouses. He passed silently through the empty neighborhoods and past dilapidated country stores. Litter was strewn across the streets, and graffiti covered the walls. The doors of the shops swung open and shut in the wind, their contents gutted by looters and animals. Ronnie crept past the old church with the broken wooden cross. Tall grass and dandelions covered the gravestones behind the church, further enshrining its dead in garish yellows and greens.

The warehouses were about two miles from his house. They were right next to the two crumbling concrete pillars that spouted white smoke when his father was alive. One of the pillars was covered in green ivy now, and hadn’t emitted smoke in ten years. The warehouses next to them stored tools, wood, lightbulbs, toilet paper—they were a cornucopia of survival, but aside from Ronnie, no one had touched it in years, for fear of disease. Ronnie helped himself to the supplies and started his journey home. He had walked to this same warehouse with his father many years ago before RANSOM killed him. Before his mother cried every night. Before the people disappeared in tanks, weeping as they went.

Suddenly, Ronnie heard the low hum of a motor. He dropped his supplies and dove headfirst into a bush. He clung to the branches as still as he could while he watched a white and blue tank zip by him. This was a smaller tank. It wasn't for snatching people. No, it was for delivering blood marks from RANSOM. These tanks went wherever RANSOM suspected people lived and left marks on the doors. His mother had warned him about them.

"They mark people's doors before murdering them," she had cried, "but we’ll hide from them together, Ronnie. Don’t you worry."

Not long after that, RANSOM had found his mother and left her marks every week. They had waited until Ronnie left the house, and then they killed her, just as she said they would. They left her body in her home, with blood marks scattered all around her. She was clinging to her heart shaped locket. Ronnie reached for the locket around his neck. He could still vividly see his mother weeping with joy when Ronnie had first given it to her. He was ten years old, and had saved up for it all summer. She cried and cried, and said it was her greatest treasure. Ronnie sat down in the bush, and wept. He missed his mother and father. He missed the world that once was before RANSOM spilled its violence and wiped out their families. Before their tanks haunted the streets in search of happiness.

Ronnie's legs were numb from sitting for so long. His tears had dried and his black, curly hair was matted with sweat. He crept out of the bush, gathered his supplies and rushed home. When he reached his kitchen door, Ronnie stopped still in his tracks, and clutched his hair in dread. The white tank had pasted a blood mark on his door. They had seen him! After all these years, they had found him. They'd never leave him alone now. They'd send mark after mark and finally they'd send their tanks to kill him.

Ronnie stumbled into the door, to Perdita and Clara. He took them in his arms and wailed. What was to become of them once he was snatched? He had raised them from chicks. He took care of them, and they took care of him in return. Once RANSOM killed him, they would steal them too. They'd cut off their heads, cook them and eat them. No! As God was his witness, he wouldn't allow it.

A shadow suddenly fell across the kitchen and a silhouette appeared outside the door. Ronnie nearly pissed himself. There was a firm knocking.

"Mr. Eckert? It's me again." Ronnie regained control of his bladder. It was the man in black. Ronnie knew him. He was one of the last decent people left. Ronnie didn't know where he lived, but he knew he didn't belong to RANSOM. He was the only proof Ronnie had that any others had survived the snatchings.

"I, uh, brought you a few things," said the man in black, “Soap, and toothpaste and such. There's some food in there too." He placed a brown bag on the doorstep. Ronnie didn’t look at him. What if he was the one that ratted him out after all these years? What if his kindness was a trap? Ronnie cracked open the door.

"Sir," he began, "I thank you for your kindness over the years. My hens and I have much appreciated your civility. I want you to know that I won’t have need of it in the future. I pray you and yours will find the happiness and safety we once had before. God bless."

With that, Ronnie shut the door. The man in black looked bewildered for a moment, before abruptly turning and walking away.

Ronnie took the blood mark and placed it on the kitchen table. He knew what needed to be done. After ushering Clara out of the kitchen, Ronnie took some feed in his hand and called Perdita to him. She trotted over happily. He slowly opened the kitchen drawer and drew out his father's old butcher knife. He stroked Perdita's head. It was soft and smooth. Then in a quick motion, he raised the knife and brought it down again. He shut his eyes. It was finished. Now Clara’s turn.

Ronnie went upstairs to his parent's room and put on his father’s best suit. He looked himself over in the mirror. He was much thinner than his father had been. He returned to his blood-splattered kitchen and sat down. Ronnie took a deep breath. He'd not let indignity come to himself and the hens. He had enough of his father’s spirit to make sure of that.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Officer Danner knocked on the faded blue door to no answer. They had gotten a call from the church about abnormal behavior from Ronald Eckert. Danner peered in through the dining room window.

"Mr. Eckert?" he called, "You in there?" Danner looked back to his partner in the patrol car and shook his head. Officer Hoeksema yawned and got out of the car. Kicking past the overgrowth of weeds and chicken droppings, they went round the back, to the kitchen door, and found it slightly ajar. There was Ronald Eckert, seated at the breakfast table, with his ear planted into a pile of chicken feathers, his arms hanging loosely at his sides, and his eyes wide open. There was a bullet hole in his head, and in his hand he was clutching a thin, gold chain.

“Oh shit. Check his pulse.”

Hoeksema checked Ronnie's neck and shook his head. "He's been out for a few hours now. He's pretty stiff. Christ, look at this place. What was wrong with him?"

"Well," Danner sighed, getting out his notepad. "His father worked at Ransom City Power Plant, and died in the explosion. After that, everybody evacuated town. The city mailed out letters trying to relocate the townsfolk, and eventually they all headed West to Taggert. But Eckert’s mother wouldn’t leave, and rumor is, she made Ronnie stay with her too. So, they both stayed here drinking that poison water till they went crazy.

Hoeksema whistled, “Why didn’t they leave?”

Danner shrugged. “Memories, I guess. Ronnie here tried to leave once for a job in Taggert. He worked there for a couple weeks and came back to find that she'd killed herself. It messed him up pretty bad. But the preacher from Taggert City Church comes by now and then with supplies to check on him. Honestly, I'm surprised he made it this long. He wasn't a bad guy. Everybody that worked around here--the electricians, the maintenance guys--we all knew to just leave him alone. I'll be sorry to see Ransom’s census go down to zero. This used to be a nice town before the accident."

Danner paused and sighed, "Alright, we'll send word back to the station. Can you put this stuff in an evidence bag?" Hoeksema agreed and got out a plastic bag. He picked up the letter. It was from Ransom City notifying Mr. Eckert that his house was being condemned. They offered him relocation assistance. He shook his head and threw it in the bag before picking up the necklace. The heart pendant was unlocked. Hoeksema looked inside. It was a picture of a small boy, with lopsided ears, and curly hair smiling frozen in blissful happiness, forever.