The Collective Read Online Free Page B

the worse. The
guards stepped from the vehicle and he could hear them arguing as they pulled a
young man from the rear.
    “We should have disposed of him as Distor commanded,
Franke. How are we going to                       explain this? What if he
finds out? We’ll be dismissed from the Facility. I don’t know about you.” The
guard paused surveying the surroundings. “But I’m not going to live like
these                   people!”
    His panicked tone was returned by a stoic look of the lead
guard. “The father knew better, he knew the consequences. The boy...I have a
son and I’m not going to kill this young man. Is that clear!”
    “Yeah, yeah Franke, cool out. Just drop him near the curb
so we can get out of                                    here.”
    Franke carefully laid Abel on the ground with a backpack
under his head. His gentleness spoke more of his conviction as a father than
the ruthless acts he had committed as a soldier.  Franke stood up slowly,
clearly thinking of his sons and the decisions they will face in this new
world. Almost instantly the moment was lost as he shifted back into his
hardened demeanor.  Softness led to death and he had a family to get home to.
He jumped into the vehicle and directed his attention to the remaining guards.
“Alright you stupid maggots, lets push out! Any word of this and you’ll all be
spending quality time with your maker.”
    The truck sped off and disappeared out of Isnor’s view. He
had just witnessed a miracle, a guard with a heart. Who was this young man that
pulled the emotions from the ruffian guard? He had never seen such a thing.
These men killed without thinking and on command. Many of the guards enjoyed
their work. It was a small price to pay for the luxuries afforded within the
city walls. Isnor’s curiosity was piqued as he replayed the scene in his head.
    As Abel came to his senses he felt the sharp throbbing of
his head from the gun butt. There was a bandage on his bruise, but he had no
idea who dressed it. His parents! Their image shot through his mind and he
stood up quickly, too quickly as he stumbled around the room. As his eyes
focused, he realized that he was not home. Where was he and what had beome of
his father and mother? The last thing he remembered was the desperate look in
his father’s eyes. Was his mother even alive? Suddenly he heard footsteps
approaching him. Bracing himself, he thought how he would never get caught off
guard again. 
    Isnor stepped from the back of the store and he could see
the angst on the young man’s face. He knew Abel was still injured, but he had a
determined look in his eyes. Isnor empathized, being knocked out and dropped in
a new city would rattle anyone.
    “Calm down, I’m the one who brought you inside.” Isnor
gestured around the shop as he tried to clarify the situation. “Lying on the
curb is no place to be when you’re new in town.  Welcome to Profik Trades, you
can call me Isnor. Seems that you’ve hit a rough patch my friend, where do you
call home?”
    The man did not seem to be a threat, but Abel was still
suspicious of his hospitality. He was short and stout with white hair that
barely made it to the top of his head. His shirt hid his weight well, but did not
cover his large forearms. Shopkeeper indeed. Abel stood to his feet, still
holding his head. He was in the foyer and could see the town from the window.
There were no familiar landmarks. Trinkets for trade, weapons and more exotic
items were neatly placed around the shop shelves. Abel was standing near a
table and Isnor was behind the counter, with a machine gun resting below his
hands. It wasn’t pointed toward Abel as Isnor ran a cloth over it. It appeared
that he was cleaning the firearm, but Abel knew better. You don’t clean a gun
with your finger on the trigger. He respected his host’s caution.
    Abel took a second to mentally recount what