Wings of the Walker - CoraLee June Page 0,87

to face the computer monitors. Models of different objects and gene sequences scrolled vertically on the screen, and occasionally an alert would pop up, indicating that something of importance was discovered.

“I’m so close, Ash,” he murmured while watching the various codes roll around like digital waves on his screen. His eyes scanned the confusing figures, seeking out the answers to this terrible disease.

“I’ll help. I’ll do whatever you need,” I replied honestly and with more force than necessary. I rolled up my sleeve and held out my thin arm to Maverick which made him chuckle.

“Well, alright then. I don’t usually keep blood draw kits in my pocket, so you’ll have to wait a minute. I would do this in the main room, but, uh— ”

I cut him off. “I’m fine wherever, Maverick. This Clinic is a part of you. I . . . I want to be a part of that. Of you.”

Maverick looked at me with such awe and respect that my eyes watered. He lifted his hand and scratched his head, causing his red-brown hair to ruffle. “Well, okay then, let's uh—let’s go,” he choked out.

After Maverick drew my blood, he spent more time half-heartedly explaining to me his research while he held my hand. When he spoke, his eyes lit up with such hope that I, too, saw a future where the X vaccine was accessible and Walkers didn’t exist. A future where the world wasn’t upon his shoulders. A future where we could maybe be more .

Chapter Ten

Josiah, 16 Years Ago

Father dragged me to the Walker auctions at the first hint of morning light. My mother refused to attend. She usually had a headache until mid-afternoon on the nights Father hosted dinner parties, and last night Lackley visited, so it would be at least a week before she recovered. Father was particularly eager to attend this Walker auction, I noticed. He happily munched on his breakfast while describing to me the perks of owning a Walker.

“All respectable families own Walkers these days, it's simply a necessity ,” he said while crumbs of bagel tumbled out of his puffy cheeks and onto the floor of the transport. Father was always messy, and Mother was always scolding him for it.

“I thought we had to stay away from the Walkers, Father?” I questioned while watching him lick cream cheese from the tips of his pudgy fingers. He scooted backward in his leather seat and pulled on the tight seat buckles that contained his thick frame.

“Yes, well, these Walkers either have immunity or are willing to trade themselves in exchange for the vaccine. But they’re still trash; unworthy of the space they take up. Understand that, boy? ”

I nodded in understanding. My eight-year-old mind soaking up every bit of wisdom my father shared.

Father’s tablet rang. He answered it and began arguing with whoever was on the other side of the call. He was always arguing with someone. Especially Mother. One might even say that it's his favorite pastime. I noticed that he got a certain gleam in his eyes whenever she cowered from him.

We continued to travel towards the auction, and I pressed my nose against the cold transport window to see my surroundings better. I found the Walker Zones had just enough mystery and horror to keep my imaginative mind occupied until the transport parked itself and the doors slid open.

The building where the Walker Auction was, stood out like a beacon of newness in the rundown Zone. It was ten stories tall and covered in screens that flashed different faces of Walkers hoping to be purchased. The lawn was manicured and the windows shiny but surrounded by run-down shacks with barefoot children running along the road.

Despite being vaccinated, attendants handed us mouth coverings that slipped over our ears and plastic gloves intended for our hands. Mother always said that you could never be too careful when it came to Influenza X and the nasty Walkers, so I readily accepted them.

I sat quietly by my father and watched a dozen Walkers stroll onto the metal stage. Their specifications were listed methodically, and one by one, each Walker was auctioned off to the highest bidder. They each wore resigned but hopeful expressions. I tried to focus during the entire ordeal, but still found the auction to be incredibly boring. Father was always chastising my inability to sit still.

Most of the Walkers were bought, but a few still left the stage in defeat. No one wanted them as servants, which meant