The Excess

Caroline, Michael, Timothy, Alice, Molly, Thomas, Sarah, William, Harrison, Warwick.

  We hate our own families. We’re made to feel like garbage. Collection, Excess. That’s what they label us. Rubbish that needs to be disposed of.

  Abandoned by their families and dumped in the desert to die, ten teenagers struggle to fight against the sand, the heat and their fates.

  The Excess

  By Alexandra Wallis

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  Published By:

  The Excess

  Copyright 2012 Alexandra Wallis

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  *****

  I would like to thank my parents for letting me chase my dreams and not laughing at me when I said I wanted to study Writing and English and university. This is for you.

  *****

  The Excess

  The truck jolts to a stop. My eyes flash up to find Michael’s already on me. We hear the driver open the door, jump out and slam it behind him. I begin hyperventilating.

  ‘It’ll be alright,’ Michael says reaching across to me and squeezing my hand. Alice smiles weakly and Timothy nods. I don’t believe any of them.

  There are ten of us this Collection Day. Caroline, Michael, Timothy, Alice, Molly, Thomas, Sarah, William, Harrison, Warwick. I keep repeating the names in my head. Over and over. I don’t want us to be forgotten.

  The back of the truck flies open and the dry heat gushes in clawing at our bodies. The driver points his gun at us.

  ‘Out!’ he yells. I drop Michael’s hand and we pile out. Squinting I try to see where we are as Michael finds my hand again.

  ‘Can we fight this?’ I asked Michael the day before Collection. We were in his backyard on the old swing set.

  ‘There’s no use,’ he said, ‘We don’t have any information. How can we fight something we know absolutely nothing about?’

  ‘We’re just going to let this happen then?’

  Michael looked down at his feet, ‘Caroline...I’ve been Excess longer than you. I’ve come to terms with my fate.’

  ‘Fate? You’re such a liar!’

  Michael sighed, ‘Please drop it. This is hard enough knowing that you’re going too.’

  I look up at the driver, waiting for him to start shooting us. But he lowers his gun.

  ‘Have fun kids’ he says and gets back into the truck.

  ‘What does he mean?’ Alice says concern on her face.

  Harrison walks across and stands next to her, ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘It doesn’t sound good,’ Timothy says.

  ‘It means nothing,’ I say. ‘We’re going to starve out here in this desert. That’s what he means.’

  ‘We will die of thirst long before we starve,’ Thomas adds quietly.

  ‘Thank you, Thomas!’ I snap.

  ‘Just being realistic,’ he says.

  The sun prowls the land, devouring everything in sight. We look for shade, shapes in the distance and animal life. Nothing. There’s nothing but the sand, the sun and the heat. I can’t bring myself to sit with the others. I feel the sweat run down the nape of my neck and drip along the back of my dress, collecting near the top of my tights. I unbutton my collar. The boys have already done this. Molly flashes me a disapproving look from the sand.

  ‘What? Will I die any faster if I’m wearing fewer clothes? Maybe I should just take the whole dress off?’ I yell.

  ‘Caroline?’ Michael frowns while Molly sulks.

  ‘I’m hot,’ I growl.

  ‘We all are,’ Michael says. I turn away from the group and rub my strained eyes.

  ‘How long have you been Excess, Warwick?’ I hear Timothy ask.

  ‘Since I was nine.’

  ‘Me too,’ Timothy says, ‘You, Sarah?’

  ‘I was twelve when my brother was born.’

  ‘Thomas?’

  ‘Seventeen. I was training to go into medicine. Seems like a waste of money, if nothing else.’

  ‘I was seventeen too.’ William adds. ‘Harrison haven’t you always been Excess?’

  ‘All my life. My older brother is a year older than me and my twin is a minute younger than me.’

  I turn back around. Harrison has a precarious smile plastered on his face. It’s hard to imagine resenting a minute younger version of yourself.

  Alice kindly draws attention away from him, ‘I was five when my sister was born. What about you Michael?’

  Michael hesitates before he says, ‘One. I was one.’

  ‘Molly...well, we all know yours,’ Timothy says.

  ‘Yes,’ she snaps, ‘Twenty one! I was twenty one when my mother gave birth to her child.’ Anger laces her words with an unstable edge. Most parents struggle to have children after their first few turn eighteen. ‘You, Caroline?’ she asks.

  ‘Eighteen. My brother was born a month ago. It’s a miracle he survived and I have felt disgusting since because I prayed for his death.’

  No one says anything. They understand. They feel disgusting. We hate our own families. We’re made to feel like garbage. Collection, Excess. That’s what they label us. Rubbish that needs to be disposed of. Culling the population. There are too many children, they told us. Keep the first born, they will carry the knowledge and the skills of the father or mother. Keep the youngest as they need the care of their parents. But the middle children? Society doesn’t need them, once they turn eighteen they’re just a nuisance. They’re unnecessary; Excess.

  Caroline, Michael, Timothy, Alice, Molly, Thomas, Sarah, William, Harrison, Warwick.

  Michael is the first to break the heavy silence. ‘What do we do now?’

  ‘Go for a walk?’ I suggest.

  Harrison snorts, ‘Build sand castles?’

  I laugh for the first time in months.

  ‘We should go for a walk,’ Thomas says, ‘perhaps we will find desert dwelling beasts that will kill us before we agonisingly dehydrate and die.’

  Harrison slaps Thomas on the back, ‘We can only hope.’

  I walk over to Molly and help her stand. We smile apologetically at each other.

  Michael puts his hand to his brow and squints into the distance. We make the decision to go west. Michael seems to know where west is from the sun. He moves in beside me.

  We walk for a while when as if out of nowhere the wind picks up, whipping the locks of my hair that have dropped out of my bun into my eyes.

  ‘What the hell is that?’ I hear Timothy shout. A huge dark wall is swirling in the distance, moving across the sand towards us.

  ‘God help us,’ Harrison breathes. ‘Sandstorm.’

  Thomas turns around and says, ‘Well, it isn’t a desert dwelling sand beast, but close enough.’

  ‘I hate my parents, Michael,’ I said.

  ‘I’m not their biggest fans at the moment either,’ Michael sat glumly on one of the swings.

  ‘How could they be so stupid?’ I shouted, ‘Do I mean nothing to them?’

  ‘Caroline...’Michael warned me. I looked up to see the curtains from the kitchen window swish back into place.

  ‘What? We’re going to be taken away next Collection Day anyway! Why should I care? Why should you care?’

  ‘I know you’re angry Caroline but...’

  I interrupted him, ‘Angry? Angry isn’t even anywhere close to what I feel Michael!’

  He looked up from the swing, ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘It’s not fair. We’re too young. I don’t want to die.’ Tears ran down my face as I collapsed to the floor. Michael stood up and wrapped his arms around me while I cried.


  ‘Caroline, rip your dress!’ Michael exclaims turning to me.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘We’re going to need something to cover our faces if we’re going to survive.’

  ‘He’s right,’ Thomas adds. ‘Our mouths, noses and ears cannot be exposed. Obviously we can close our eyes.’

  ‘Let’s not give them the satisfaction of us laying over and dying,’ Michael says.

  I grin and reach down to the hem of my dress. I rip up the seam to just below my knees, revealing my cotton tights, and begin to tear across. Molly looks on, horrified.

  ‘It really is important to keep your eyes closed or you will get “dry eyes” disease which can lead to blindness,’ Thomas instructs. ‘Also let’s not breathe in too much sand or we’ll get silicosis and asphyxiate.’

  ‘That won’t be enough material then,’ Alice says and starts on her own dress with Sarah quick to follow.

  We fashion scarfs for our faces but we’re two short. Molly and Warwick still need one and the storm is advancing.

  ‘Molly, you’re going to have to rip your dress,’ I say.

  ‘I am a respectable woman and I shall do no such thing. It’s improper.’

  ‘We’re in the desert with no one to see us and the slim chance that