For What It's Worth

I like writing flash-pieces when something strange pops up in my mind. You never know if it could inspire a longer story one day. This is a dystopian vignette about a group of teens staying alive after some unmentioned world disaster. The idea for this story arose from Buffalo Springfield's song For What It's Worth. I'm a big music fan so am often sparked by songs.

Elle's legs sway over the water, her right one asleep for hours. Pins and needles crept in as soon as her bottom went numb. She watches the river flood past, eyes glazed, chin resting on the cool railing. How long has it been? She'd have a better sense if the clouds weren't so thick. Time would pass faster if she could nap, but with her wrists tied to this damn pole, that's impossible. Ro’s will pay for this.

A blue jay swoops by, screaming at her. She follows its glide, wincing as she lifts her chin from the flat, narrow bar. Rubbing the sore spot on her shoulder, she tilts her head back, trying to ease the ache from her long hunch.

She could almost guess the time by the trains that rattled past, shaking her spot and causing her head to throb. She hasn’t had a sip of water since waking up, so her headache is intense, but at least she hasn’t had to pee all day. I guess you take the good with the bad.

Most trains have stopped, but the morning and mid-afternoon ones still run on schedule. Elle and her pack know this well. Each time one of these beasts barrels towards them, they need to hightail it off or become track kill. There's no fear of collision in her current perch, but the sound is deafening, two feet from the screeching rails. She can't even cover her ears in this setup. Damn, Ro. And damn, Don, Zed, and Ringo too. They could’ve stood up to Ro, but as usual, she's the only one with any gumption. They stared at their feet while he bound her, leaving her here to wait who knows how long. She's going to make them all pay.

It wasn’t even all her fault. Why isn’t Zed here with her? He’s the one who egged her on. She’d never let anyone call her chicken, especially a yellow belly like him. She would’ve made it too if that balcony hadn’t been slick with muck. Ro, as always, the self-appointed boss, handed down her punishment. She’d wasted their time climbing instead of hunting, so now she had to wait, dangling a hundred feet above the Red River while they plundered without her.

Her chin senses her boys before she hears them rattling along the metal bridge. She leans back and squints into the sun. The four slim figures skip along the walkway, rehashing their exciting day after leaving her bound, counting each body part as they fell asleep. She’s going to kill them once they untie her.

 Ro dances along the tracks as they belt out some oldie tune. Zed, "the sneak," plays the harmonica, and not one of them rushes to free Elle from her bonds.

 “There’s something happening here. What it is ain’t exactly clear. There’s a man with a gun over there, telling me I’ve got to beware. It’s time to stop children; what’s that sound? Everybody look what’s going round...”

  Ro dances up to Elle, dangling something in front of her like she’s a dog to tease.

  “Whatcha got there, Ro? Ya better be danglin' an apology at the end of that chain; otherwise, I’m gonna kill ya.”

 “Kill me? Ya provida?”

 “Provida my butt. I’ll provide ya with a stick up yours if ya don’t untie me immediately.”

 “Whoa, guys. Hear that? Elle’s mind’s on revenge,” he says with a laugh, twirling his little chain in spirals in front of her face. “Wasn’t it nice havin' a day off from hunt’n?”

 “No. I like hunt’n. How am I supposed to know I got my fair share if I’m not with ya?”

 “Awe, come on, Elle,” Ringo whines. “Ya know we’d never scam ya for nothing.”

 She flashes him her death scorn.

 “I don’t wanna hear a word from any of ya yellow belly buttwipes.”

 “Elle, if ya give me a smile, I’ll let you go, but I’m not gonna if you’re coming out swing’n.”

 She smirks. “I’ll be swing’n alright.”

 “But, Elle, don’t ya want the present I gotcha?”

 “Ya can give it to me after ya pull out the stick I plant in ya skinny white butt. Set me free, Ro”

 “Okay, but only 'cause ya asked so nicely.”

  He bends down to work out the complicated knot. He hums the tune in her ear, giving her the heebeejeebees. She scrunches her shoulder to shield her ear, making him laugh.

“There ya go, buttercup. The bird has been set free,” he jokes. He sneaks a quick peck on her cheek before jumping back, ready for the bomb to go off, and off it goes.

 Elle leaps up, but instead of launching at him, her sleeping leg gives out, and she collapses onto the hard track. She bounces off her good knee and slams her shin square into a bolt.

“Oh, you mudda-flippin'-vulture,” she swears, pulling her knee into her chest.

Ro squats next to her and places his hand on her shoulder. She shrugs it off.

 “Awe, come on, Elle. I’m sorry.”

 “Leave me alone.”

 “I really am sorry.”

  “You will be sorry.”

 “Forgive me," he pleads. "Can’t we be friends again?”

 “Friends don’t tie each other up.”

  “Ya tied me up last week.”

  “Ya told me to. How else were ya gonna sleep in that tree?”

  “True. Did I ever thank ya for that act of kindness?”

 “Shove it, Ro.”

 Elle rolls, planting her butt on the track, and pulls up her pant leg. Her shin’s okay. It’ll bruise though.

 “What if I promise never to tie ya up again?”

  “Ya won’t do that. Ya love makin’ all the rules.”

  “How 'bout it’s your turn to be the leader?”

  “Oh, yeah?”

 “Yeah. What do ya think, boys?”

 They all bob their heads like the old buoys on the river.

 “Okay.”

 “So, we’re good then?”

 “Sure.”

 He hands her the small gold chain he’s been danglin'. It’s a locket.

 “See, Elle. It opens. Maybe your heart’s true love's in there.”

 She slips it open, and it’s a photo of the ugliest cat she’s ever seen. He's got tufts of hair in spots but is bald everywhere else.

 “What the?”

 The boys bend over her for a look-see and cry out laughing, like they may die from it.

  Elle can’t help but laugh too, holding herself up with the railing as tears stream down her face. When she finally catches her breath, she grabs Ro by the neck of his shirt, yanking his face right up against hers.

“My first order as chief leader is that Ro Willems needs to cut his hair exactly like this darn cat."

 The boys roar.

 She steps into the lead, marching them west across the bridge with only a slight limp from the bump. They’ll make it to the mountains one day, but first, they've got to get through the city. Here’s hoping the tracks are clear.