Kaiy Muhammad
Travis Type O-
“I thought you said there was a river here! We can’t hide a body in this puddle.” The kidnapper slammed his fist on the van dashboard in frustration. There was a kind of cartoonish villainy to him that Travis would find a lot funnier if he wasn’t terrified for his life. The kid next to him curled into the fetal position. She had been there longer than Travis and didn’t have a family to return to. He vowed that if, no when they escape, Quinn was coming to live with his family. The other 6 teenagers sat still and stony faced. They knew better than to move or make a sound.
Their other captor, a woman and the second half to this power couple responded calmly. “I said there was somewhere to hide the bodies, not necessarily a river. Do you really think any of the kids will be identifiable if we chop them up and let nature take its course?” She smiled conspiratorially at him and he beamed like a lovesick idiot. “Okay then that works too. What do we need from this batch? Is it the standard organs or is it...”
Travis tuned them out as he heard Quinn’s breathing become fast and shallow. Incoming panic attack. It took him by surprise the first time, but after months together he adapted. Growing up in middle class suburbia, Travis had never met someone quite like Quinn before who smiled when getting kicked in the teeth and still insisted she was “not a boy fuck you very much.” Quinn who was younger than him, but still protected him with her life. He had never felt more hopeless during the whole ordeal than that moment listening to his best friend have a panic attack about their impending deaths and being completely unable to help.
“All right brats,” announced the man waving a pistol at them. The kid across from him (Noah or something like that) flinched. He had a nasty looking bruise from being whipped across the face for trying to escape. His co-conspirator wasn't so lucky. The man had tortured her as a warning to everyone else then snapped her neck. “Don’t try anything funny, ya hear? Best behaved kid lives to see tomorrow!” He smiled maniacally at them, but they didn’t respond. “Get the sissy boy off the floor and let’s go.”
They trekked through the forest as the sun set with the woman leading the way and the man at the rear. Travis still had hope for himself and Quinn but he knew no one else would try to escape. Months or years of living in a slaughterhouse had broken them until they lost their will to live. Travis watched from his and Quinn’s cell as Noah tried to hang himself after his friend was murdered. Then when that failed, to starve himself and cut his wrist open on the rusted bars. He was caught and beaten each time. Eventually, he lost his will to die as well.
They reached the clearing to see a man waiting for them by a black tarp with a cart full of surgical tools. Ice coolers stained with red streaks stood innocently by. When they got closer, Travis could see they were labeled with names and blood types. “Took you long enough.” With a nod, the adults got to work.
As the first kid went, Travis regretted never learning his name as they watched him be sliced open and excavated. The husband and wife joined in, carving organs from their rightful place and putting them in coolers to be sold. Oh, that was his name. Marcus Type A+. Another pathetic life cut short for the profit of organ harvesters. Travis refused his fate. He quickly grabbed the scalpel that would have been used to cut his throat and aimed for the doctor’s eye.
For a moment, everyone froze. Then the blank faced captives burst into a frenzy grabbing whatever tool was nearest and using it on the nearest abuser. Travis was right though. No one tried to run away. They were already dead—murdered—and now they would get their revenge. For a moment he forgot about Quinn and about his family and about his dog waiting for him. All he knew in that moment was the cool metal of the scalpel and the burning urge to hurt.
Quinn didn’t hesitate. She grabbed the edge of his collar and tugged. “Travis, leave them. We have to live.” She met his gaze with a rictus grin and he could feel his own forming on his face. “They can’t be saved, but we still can.” “As long as we’re together,” Travis said as they fled into the night, away from the blood-soaked clearing and the sickening crack of the pistol. “We’ll be okay.”