13 May Gift Box Preparations

Jeremy stared into the giant steel box in the ground. His heart was racing.

Marshall clapped him on the shoulder supportively.

“You’re doing a really important job, Jeremy. We just have to make sure you’re ready.”

He couldn’t peel his eyes off the box. It was so dark even in the well-lit room.

“Is it safe?”

Marshall smiled at him. He turned Jeremy in his direction, forcing him to meet his gaze.

“Hey, hey, look at me. Yes. This version is safe. It’s like immersion therapy without the actual danger. It’s just to prepare you for the actual mission.”

“And everyone does this?”

Jeremy’s eyes found their way to the box again. Just the thought of being trapped inside, with no light or resources, made his chest tight. He couldn’t breathe.

“Everyone who’s done your job has done the training, yes. Look how scared you are, Jer. We can’t send you into the field like this. Once you make it through the preparation box, you’ll be stronger, more prepared, ready.”

Jeremy nodded nervously. He took a deep breath and blew it out hard, then nodded again.

“Okay. Yeah. Okay, let’s do it.”

“Attaboy. Just climb right in.”

Jeremy stepped up to the edge and looked down into the box.

“There’s no ladder,” he said.

“You can hang from the edge and just drop in. It’s not far enough to hurt you. You’ve got this, bud.”

Jeremy looked back at him.

“What about getting back out?”

Marshall smiled. He patted the young man’s back.

“We’ll get you out when it’s time, don’t worry. You’re gonna be just fine.”

Jeremy swallowed and turned back to the box.

“How does this help with going into the field, sir? I just—I—I don’t really understand.”

Marshall looked at him with sympathy.

“It’s dangerous out there, man. It’s dark. It’s violent. We can’t find resources and keep our people alive without training. You’re a lucky guy, Jer. You were promoted to the team. Without you, our people will die.”

Jeremy took several breaths and started jumping in place.

“Yeah. I’m gonna be a hero, right?”

“You absolutely are. You’re already a hero just for coming this far. I’m happy to work alongside you.”

“Alright. Okay.”

Before he could change his mind, Jeremy walked over the edge. He dropped down but grabbed the edge and dangled. Looking up at Marshall’s kind face, he asked,

“What do I do if I need to use the bathroom? If I get hungry? Thirsty?”

Marshall squatted before him and tenderly put a hand on his as he hung from the edge of the box.

“I’ll toss a pack of food in with you, but you can make it a long time without eating. If you have to use the bathroom, just stick to one corner so you’re not living in your own filth. If you get really thirsty, urine is drinkable.”

“What?” Jeremy asked, wide-eyed and suddenly afraid.

“I’m kidding, bud. There’s water in the pack; just ration it. We’re counting on you.”

Jeremy nodded and let go, dropping into the box. No sooner had he hit the bottom than Marshall closed the top. The darkness was all-consuming.

“What about the rations?” he asked in a panic. Then louder, yelling, “What about the rations?!”

His only response was silence.

Jeremy walked the box several times. It was bigger than it looked but still felt suffocating. He couldn’t see anything, but he knew from when he watched from above that there was nothing in here but him. There was no food, no water, no decorations—nothing but cold steel walls, floor, and ceiling. There was no ladder and no way out. He had no choice now but to wait until they set him free, which wouldn’t be for days. If this didn’t break him, he would certainly be prepared for what waited out in the world. He would survive this new kill-or-be-killed world. They all would, if he had anything to say about it.

He sat against the wall when he got tired, but it was hard and uncomfortable. When he got hungry and his stomach started to hurt, he lay on his side and curled into a ball. The cold of the metal seeped into his bones and made it hard to sleep, but he kept trying. What else was there to do?

The more time passed, the more his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He found he could almost see clearly. It wasn’t so bad. Even in the darkest of tunnels, he would be able to spot things they needed. The people in New Arcadia would all thank him and appreciate him when he brought back their meds and favorite treats. That’s what he told himself when he felt like his stomach was trying to eat him for lack of food.

More and more time went by, and he couldn’t hold it anymore. He went to what he believed was the far corner and relieved himself. After that, even lying on the other side of the box, the smell made it hard to sleep. There was no ventilation. He realized the hard way that the box must have been at a slight incline. As he slept at the other end, a stream of his urine made its way down to him. By the time it woke him, he was already soaked with it. It made the box feel that much colder being wet, even though the piss itself was disgustingly warm. He had nothing to use to protect himself from this, so he knew this was just life until the box opened. He had to go, and he had to sleep.

He dreamed of his parents and the smiles that would be on their faces when his training was complete and he would come home with the others, telling tales of the adventure they had just gone on and showing the rewards. Seeing them proud was so much of his motivation. He was determined to use it to get through this training, and so he held onto their faces when he woke.

The more he urinated, the more dehydrated he felt. He was dizzy and nauseous, and his muscles started to ache to such an extent that exercise became intolerable. The ammonia smell of his own waste was making his head hurt and his dizziness worse. The box had no ventilation. He found it suddenly hard to breathe and tugged at his collar.

“Marshall!” he called. “I need to come out! I’m ready! Please!”

No answer came.

Jeremy started to think about something Marshall had said to him when they were walking to the box room. He said, “Immersion therapy only works if you don’t die in there. You have to face your fears, face adversity. Then you’ll be ready for anything.”

At the time, Jeremy had just said, “I can do it.”

He had been so excited to finally graduate to being part of the expedition team that he hadn’t even really thought about what those words meant. This was intended to be hard enough to kill him. Had it killed others? Were there people who failed? Whose bodies were pulled out and disposed of when they opened the box? He imagined an entirely different look on his parents’ faces as they received the news of his passing. He had to calm down, to focus on breathing. He had to get out of here, but it was so hard not to panic.

They had other places, like the outpost, the courier station, the farm… everyone always just assured the people who joined the team and didn’t come back got shipped off to somewhere they were needed more immediately. What if that wasn’t the case? What if their body had been dumped somewhere the townsfolk wouldn’t see it? Would they even tell his parents that he died in here? Oh God.

“Marshall! MARSHALL!”

Jeremy had no idea how long he had been down there. He had no watch or phone. Marshall took everything before he brought him to the training room. He wanted to exercise, to do something—anything—but his body hurt too much. He had trouble even thinking now. He felt like his head was caving in. It was so hard to breathe in there. He needed a window. He needed air that wasn’t full of stale piss and shit. He needed out.

He tugged at his clothes until they were scattered upon the piss-soaked floor. Naked, he clawed at the walls. They were steel, but maybe if he worked hard enough, he could break through. He didn’t need to escape, to give up on his training. He just needed some air. He needed to breathe. He didn’t want to fail, to die in here like the others. What others? His thoughts were jumbled now. Everything was confusing.

He attacked the wall, beating on it with his fists and feet, even ramming it with his aching head. It dented, but most of the damage was done to him, not the wall. His bones ached as much as his organs and muscles now. He bled from so many places. His knuckles were shredded like they were made of paper.

He wanted to cry, but he didn’t want to waste the water. He needed the water.

He hit the wall and slid down to the ground, where he hugged his knees and rocked back and forth. He felt a sudden anger with Marshall, with everyone. How could this be a necessary training? This was torture. He would punch them all when he got out. He didn’t care if they kicked him off the team.

Jeremy got so thirsty, he couldn’t take it. His throat burned, and swallowing felt like eating glass shards. He had no saliva left. He cried then. He let it come. He tried to lick the tears as they fell down his face. It didn’t help. It felt like his stomach was turning inside out. He cried out in agony. He screamed in pain. He crawled across the floor, moaning and begging for freedom from people who he didn’t believe were even there to hear him.

Then his hand touched down on something wet, and he knew Marshall had not been kidding. This was survival. He didn’t want to die. As much as he hated them, he wanted to show that he was worthy of being part of the team. He didn’t want to fail and go back home to all the people who threw a party in his honor and made toasts to his promotion a day ago.

A day? How many days?

He had no idea.

He imagined their frowning, disappointed faces as he lapped up his own urine like a cat with a bowl of milk.

It was horrible, and occasionally a nugget of his feces would float down the stream and latch onto his tongue, forcing him to spit and waste the moisture, but he had no choice. If he vomited, his dehydration could become deadly.

After having his fill, he crawled a few feet away and collapsed on his face, where he finally slept.

He dreamed that he woke up to light, and the box was open. Marshall and the others were there to congratulate him. They were cheering like his family had been when he got promoted.

He woke to total darkness and silence. Even the flies couldn’t get in to feast on his waste. His shit was his alone.

He started to have terrible thoughts. What if the enemy had attacked while he was in here? What if they ripped through town and killed everyone, and there was no one to let him out? How would he even know? It could have already happened. He wouldn’t have the chance to die with everyone else, to fight alongside them and die an honorable death. He would be trapped, left to wither in here until he was nothing. How long would that take?

Too long. Far too long. It had been so long already. Hadn’t it?

Maybe it just felt that way.

Maybe he’d only been down here a few hours.

It felt like an eternity.

He had no sense of time anymore.

He screamed and pounded his already wounded fists on the floor.

Silence was his answer.

He wasn’t dead, though. He voiced it out loud.

“I’m not dead, though. I’m not. I’m surviving. I’m making it. I’ll be ready for whatever is next. You hear me, Marshall? I’LL BE READY!”

He suddenly felt so tired. He couldn’t keep his eyes open. His body wouldn’t listen to his commands anymore. Was he exhausted? Crashing? Or was this what death felt like? He wished he knew. He didn’t want to die. He wasn’t ready. He knew the world wasn’t what it used to be, and there was a lot that wasn’t possible anymore, but he still had dreams of things he wanted to do before his time was up.

There was a cherry tree outside the wall surrounding the town. He wanted to go out one day when it was safe and pick fresh cherries, to eat them right there under the sun, maybe with a date, someone who loved him, and they would kiss. It would be wonderful. He didn’t need the world to be how it used to be to experience moments like that.

One of the people on the expedition team named Everest had always made his heart quicken. He imagined that once they were equals and working together, they would build a relationship and fall in love. Their lips would meet under the branches of that wonderful tree.

His daydream was shattered by a thump on the wall. At first, he got excited and believed he was being let out. He jumped to his feet with renewed vigor and ran to the center of the box, looking up and waiting to see light.

It never came.

“Hello?” he called. “HELLO!?”

Silence.

“Marshall!”

The thump returned from behind him. He jumped and spun around, slipping in his waste that was running towards him in a yellow river. The wall was pounding from the other side like someone else was trying to get out of their own prison, just like he was. It came from everywhere then.

THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.

“Who’s there?” he called. “Who’s there? Are you trapped too? Is there another box? What’s happening? Hello?”

No one answered, but the pounding fists or feet or whatever they were continued. It felt like they carried on endlessly.

He sat in the middle of the box, his legs crossed, and just stared forward into the darkness as the pounding carried on, the walls thumping all around him in every direction.

THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.

Jeremy started to hug himself and rock as the assault on the walls continued, on and on and on. Could they get through? He wondered. Was this really what it was like in the field? He knew the city was overrun.

There were times when the banging would stop for a while, but it always resumed. Sometimes, he fell asleep from exhaustion and lack of nutrients, but when he awoke, he awoke to the endless pounding.

Sometimes, he tried to talk to whoever or whatever was out there. He knew they weren’t going to respond, but it made him feel more sane to try, to hear his own voice, to prove to himself that he was alive and sane.

Then, after an indeterminate amount of time, the lid of the box finally opened. The light was so bright that he actually lost his ability to see after having adjusted to the darkness. He shielded himself from the glare with his elbow and felt like a vampire as he scurried away into the less painful shadows.

Squinting past his arm, he saw a rope being thrown down. He didn’t know if his body would let him climb through. Everything hurt, and he was just so exhausted, so hungry.

“It takes time to readjust,” Marshall called to him, “but you did good, kid. You did really good.”

After being praised, Jeremy didn’t want to say he couldn’t climb. He grabbed the rope and forced his body upward despite the protests of his muscles and bones. When he got to the edge, he toppled out and lay there panting on the floor.

Marshall squatted beside him with his usual smile.

“You made it, Jer. You did it. It’s over. Now you’re ready for the real mission. Welcome to the team.”

Jeremy just lifted his arm and gave a weak thumbs-up. It was the best he could do.
But I didn’t die. I made my parents proud. I did it.

Marshall chuckled.

“Let’s get a meal into you and get you washed up. You gotta take it slow eating, though, or you’ll make yourself sick. I’m proud of you. Soon, it’ll be your big day.”

* * * * * *

Marshall came to Jeremy’s room to tell him it was time. Today was mission day—the day to put his training to use. Jeremy’s mother took his hand and squeezed it. He saw nothing but pride when he looked into her eyes. His father patted him on the back and smiled at him. Those were the reactions he imagined while inside that horrible box, and it made it all worth it to him despite the nightmares he’d been having since getting out.

He nodded and said he’d bring back good things, then raced out the door and down the hall to follow Marshall. When he met up with the rest of the team, they were all armed to the teeth and looked ready for war. It was so exciting. He wondered when they would give him weapons or teach him how to use them. He didn’t want to ask, though, and annoy them, being the new guy. He knew there had to be protocols and a process to this. He would wait for his turn.

They led him to a tractor-trailer and opened up the back. He expected it to be full of boxes and cargo, but it was empty—just steel walls, ceiling, and floor, just like his box. His chest tightened, and his heart pounded like the fists on the walls of the box.

THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.

Marshall squeezed his shoulder.

“This is nothing you haven’t already made it through. You already know how to survive in here.”

“Yeah,” Jeremy said quietly, staring into the truck trailer.

Everest came over and smiled.

“You’ve got this. You’re gonna do great.”

Jeremy thought Everest was beautiful. He didn’t want to seem like a coward in front of them. He nodded and turned to give Everest and the others a more lively thumbs-up than the one he’d given Marshall after his training. He took a deep breath and whispered affirmations to himself before turning back and climbing up into the trailer.

“Attaboy,” Marshall said.

Jeremy thought the others would get in with him—at least some of them—but the doors closed, and he heard them engaging a lock, a lock from the outside.

He was trapped again and felt suddenly anxious.

“What’s happening? Where are you going?” he called nervously.

Something slapped the wall of the trailer and made him jump.

“This is what you trained for, Jer. You know how to do this. You’re gonna do great,” Marshall’s voice said through the wall.

A minute or so later, the truck started moving. The last box didn’t move, and Jeremy wasn’t prepared for it. He slid around and sometimes painfully hit the walls, especially when taking fast turns.

“Is this where you load up what you find?” he called over the roar of the engine. “I bet it won’t be empty when you bring it back.”

“We put the big, important stuff back there,” Everest called back.

Jeremy actually found himself smiling. He was content with that answer. He imagined Everest being the one with him under the cherry tree, sucking the cherries off their stems and giggling with him as they darted in for another kiss. He was going to be great at this job, and then he was going to see the rewards. His family would be so proud of him. He couldn’t wait.

Then the truck stopped.

Time to get out and go hunting, he thought. I wonder what we’re going to find. I’ve waited so long for this.

Then he heard something strange. It sounded like the trailer was being unhitched from the cab.

Why would they do that? They had no reason to do that… did they?

“What’s going on?” he called.

There was no answer. Suddenly, it felt all too much like being in the box. He started pacing nervously. He didn’t understand why they would unhook him and leave him there.

“Marshall? Everest? Anyone?”

He heard the truck engine start and then the sound of the cab receding into the distance. They really did it. They left him there.

Then he heard a gunshot.

What the hell was that? Were they under attack? Was that why they left?

But he didn’t hear anything else. He couldn’t hear the truck anymore either.

Soon, there was pounding on all the walls, just as there had been on the box. He tried to breathe, but he was terrified.

“Who’s out there?” he called. “Marshall? Everest?”

Unlike in the box, he got an answer this time—a chorus of furious growls and snarls. They sounded as hungry as he had felt when he was trapped inside that horrible box.

I’m trapped inside this horrible box, he reminded himself.

The pounding increased in fury. It was the enemy, and it sounded like a lot of them. They were probably curious to begin with, but now they knew he was in here, and they would stop at nothing to get to him, to eat. How long would it take the others to get back and load up? They would save him if they knew, right? He pictured them in his mind rolling up and jumping from the cab, guns blazing.

His hope of that dwindled as time passed.

How much time, he wasn’t sure.

Too much.

Jeremy sat on the ground and hugged his knees. He rocked back and forth with his palms over his ears as the assault continued.

Maybe if he remained quiet, they would go away.

Maybe they’d forget he was in there, or think he left somehow.

His heart ached to see his parents again, to be in the safety of their arms. He chewed on his fingers to hold back his sobs. Then he imagined those outside chewing on his fingers, and he gasped quietly and tore his hand from his mouth.

He felt like he was there forever. His bladder was screaming at him. He didn’t know this was what his team had planned for him, or he would have emptied it before leaving. He went into the corner and relieved himself, his eyes on the already bowed steel walls, wondering if they could hear him going.

Were the rumors true? Were their senses enhanced? Could they smell it?

He certainly could.

Things got suddenly quiet, and he sighed silently, his shoulders slouching.

Jeremy zipped himself up and went to sit in a different corner, away from the ammonia he knew he was going to be breathing in before long.

You survived this once. You can do it again, he told himself.

The pounding continued with furious anger from all sides at once. There were deep roars and high-pitched screams to accompany it. Jeremy wanted to yell back at them, to scream at them to leave him alone, but he knew it wouldn’t help. He needed to conserve air and energy, so he just sat there with his hands over his ears and his eyes closed.

His eyes popped back open when he heard metal screaming instead of the undead.

The walls were all bending in toward him, and the one to his right looked like it was about to tear wide open.

Now he was really wishing they had given him one of those guns.

The locked doors at the back were being tugged and slammed over and over again. Jeremy cringed and curled tightly on himself like he was one of the pillbugs he used to play with in the dirt outside his home.

He had no idea what to do. They claimed to train him, but they didn’t train him for this. They didn’t train him how to fight or survive the enemy.

The walls were closing in tighter, the metal bending toward him under the relentless power of the multitude of fists on the other side.

He squeezed himself into a tighter ball, escaping the only way he knew how. He trembled, and tears leaked from the corners of his eyes.

He lost it then. They weren’t going anywhere but in.

Jeremy bounded to his feet and screamed,

“Stop it! Leave me alone! Go away! Stop it!”

It seemed like his outburst did nothing but draw more of the enemy. They slammed their bodies into the walls, their attacks growing more furious, more frantic. The whole trailer rocked back and forth. He could hear their snarls and screams and lapping tongues.

Then the wall split. He turned his head slowly, not breathing, and looked at the hole. Horrifying yellow eyes stared back at him.

He gasped.

Then he heard the metal split behind him and turned to see more eyes staring through a new hole. He heard the metal screeching as it was pulled apart and the hole being widened on the other side, but he was too afraid to look.

What could he do if they got in? He didn’t even have a weapon. They didn’t even give him a weapon!

Jeremy did the only thing he knew to do. He sat back down and hugged himself tightly, closing his eyes against the yellow eyes of his would-be killers, though he could still see them in the darkness behind his eyelids.

He thought of his mother and father, of everyone cheering and toasting his promotion. He thought of the cherry tree as he felt himself being ripped open like the metal walls of the box.

Behind his closed eyes, he ate cherries with Everest smiling at him lovingly while the enemy ate him.

Tears rolled from his eyes, and he was determined to remain in his fantasy as his guts were pulled relentlessly from his body and the sound of chewing infiltrated his imagined serenity.

* * * * * *

The tractor drove up the road, a new trailer hitched to the back.

“Hell of a haul today. We’ll be set for months, half a year maybe,” Everest said.

“Thanks to Jeremy,” Marshall reminded them all. “He drew almost all of them. We barely saw any of those things, and that’s why we were able to get so much after picking up the new trailer from the truck stop.”

“Slow down,” said someone on the crew. “That’s where we left the old trailer over here. Shit. Poor kid.”

Marshall didn’t have to ask why they cursed. He saw for himself that the old trailer had been torn into, ripped open like a can of tuna.

“He had an important job,” Everest said. “Everyone will live because of his sacrifice. He wanted to be a hero, and now he is. Do we tell his parents that?”

Marshall shook his head and continued to stare at the wreckage.

“No, let them be proud of the work he’s doing at the truck stop to help us on these missions.”

“You didn’t really think he would make it, did you?” one of the others asked. “They never make it, Marshall. If we really thought they would survive, we would tell them what their job actually was.”

Marshall sighed and pulled his eyes from the torn-open trailer smeared with lines and trails of blood.

“Well, at least he wasn’t afraid,” he said. “That’s the point of the training.”

“I think he was probably terrified, and you’re just a psychopath,” Everest told him.

“Maybe,” he said back with a grin. “Maybe.”

Everest sighed and shook their head.

“Let’s go home.”

The truck started driving again, the contents of the new trailer moving and banging in the back.

“So who do you think should be the decoy next time?” someone asked as they drove.

“I don’t know,” Everest said. “We have several months to think about it. No need to rush something like that. Jeremy was a good kid.”

Marshall looked over with a gleam in his eye.

“I actually have someone in mind,” he said with a smile. “I met a young woman at Jeremy’s promotion party, and I’ve been watching her. She shows a lot of promise. She’s got spunk—and a lot more meat than Jeremy. I’ll make sure our gift is properly prepared before we wrap it.”