The Auction

“Come on, Allen.” Rachael called out from the kitchen. “We’re going to be late. I told your mother we’d be there by noon and it’s almost eleven thirty now.”

Allen had never particularly liked going to Hattiesburg, especially during a busy Saturday, but his mother was able to use her powers of persuasion and guilt to convince him to take her and his father up to the mall and around town so she could do some shopping. His mother claimed, as she always did, that Allen and his family didn’t see them nearly enough and this would be a good way to spend some time together. All he wanted to do, however, was spend a lazy afternoon watching baseball. This was the year that his beloved Cubs were going to finally break through and he didn’t want to miss any of the action. But then again, he thought that every year.

“I’ll be there in a minute.” he shouted back as he tried to glean a few more minutes from the TV in the bedroom.

Although the game wasn’t supposed to start for another two hours yet, the channel was already tuned in to the proper station. Oddly though, instead of the normal old movie that was usually played on Saturday, there was some sort of special news report. Whatever it was about, it seemed to have the anchor rather excited. Allen only casually paid attention as he stuck his head from the bathroom from time to time, while he shaved and got ready, to see if they were saying anything about the upcoming game.

“We are witnessing an unprecedented event in American history...” the news anchor said with a fair amount of agitation in his voice. Allen seldom paid much attention to the news anymore since everything seemed to be one big crisis after the next. “...with China owning more than one trillion dollars of our national debt...” the man continued.

Not hearing anything that interested him, Allen retreated back into the bathroom and grabbed his toothbrush and the toothpaste, quickly scrubbing his teeth in order to remove the coffee breath he acquired from the pot he drank earlier.

“Allen!” Rachael yelled out once more. “Come on!”

“Alright, I’m coming.” he shouted back with more than a slight grumble in his voice as he snatched up the remote and clicked off the TV in a huff before tossing the remote back onto the bed.

“Are the kids ready?” he asked his wife as he finally made his way from the back bedroom and into the kitchen.

“They’ve been ready. We’re all waiting on you...as usual.” she replied, staring him down with the usual glare she gave whenever she was getting impatient with him.

“Do we have to go to?” Todd, the eldest, asked his parents. “I’m sixteen, why can’t I stay here by myself?”

“Because your grandparents want to see you guys, too.” Allen answered, causing his son to groan disapprovingly.

Together, they all loaded up into the mini-van. Allen turned the key, starting the engine, and began to back out of the driveway. He checked in both directions before slowly proceeding, but just as the rear of the van was about to stick out into the street, out of nowhere a car came speeding by, nearly swiping the back of the van.

“Asshole!” Allen yelled out of the window at the reckless driver. “Watch were you’re going, you moron!”

“Allen!” Rachael scolded. “I wish you would watch your language in front of the kids.”

“Did you see what that jerk did? He almost hit us. This is supposed to be a residential street. He didn’t need to be going nearly that fast.” Allen shot back defensively. “Probably some stupid teenager.”

“Dad, can you turn on the radio?” Todd asked from the back seat.

“Yeah, and none of that ‘old’ music you and mom listen to.” his younger sister, Judy added.

Allen, still agitated, only nodded slightly in reply as he gave the knob on the dash a quick turn, and with a click, the speakers crackled to life. However, instead of music, the sound of a DJ’s voice began coming through the speakers. His voice, while still having the usual deep smoothness of a radio personality, contained a bit of nervousness and trepidation while he spoke.

“Over the past ten years, Congress has repeatedly voted to raise the debt ceiling in order for the Federal Government to borrow more money so it can pay the bills...”

“That’s the same crap that was on the TV.” Allen mumbled as he turned the dial in search of another station.

But no matter where he tuned the dial, all he could find was the same thing on each station. On station after station, the unsettling chatter continued. “...sooner or later, we knew those bills would come due...”

“...foreclosed on the military...taking possession of...”

“...and we’re expecting a statement from the White House later this afternoon, as we try to find...”

“There’s nothing on except that garbage.” Allen huffed, clicking the radio off with another twist of his fingers. “Everyday it’s the same bad news. I don’t want to listen to that right now.”

The rest of the half-hour drive was completed in relative silence while Allen drove and Rachael stared out the window. The kids in back were busy sending messages to friends on their phones to the steady beat of tack tack tack of fingers quickly tapping away on way-too-small buttons. But to the aggravation of the kids, it seemed that the network was down. None of the messages were getting through.

“Can I get a new phone?” Judy asked with a slight huff. “This thing never gets any service.”

“We’re just passing through a dead spot is all.” Allen tried to reassure his daughter. “I’m sure you’ll pick up a signal when we get closer to the highway.”

To both the kids’ dismay, however, neither of their phones were able to pick up any sort of signal, no matter how close to the cell towers that lined the highway they got. The cell phone company was notorious for doing weekend upgrades and taking the entire region offline, usually without alerting anyone in their network that they were doing so. Both Todd and Judy figured that to be the case and that they would be without service for several hours at least, making the long day ahead seem that much longer.

At last, they arrived at Allen’s parent’s house, which was well off the beaten path, in a secluded part of the county. The only neighbors within several miles were the many pine trees that made up most of the forested areas in this part of Mississippi and the different types of wildlife that hid within.

“We didn’t think you were going to make it.” Allen’s mother, Bea, said as she greeted him at the front door.

“It’s only a little after noon. We’re not that late.” he replied. “We need to hurry, though, traffic is gonna be murder.”

“With the way your father moves, it’ll be nearly nighttime before we even make it to Hattiesburg.” the old woman quipped. “Hurry up Gabe. The kids are probably getting hot sitting in the van.” she said to the elderly man who shuffled across the living room floor with slow and steady steps.

“I’m comin’, woman. Don’t rush me.” he shot back in a grumpy tone that was thick with southern drawl.

When everyone had climbed into the van at last, and the side door pulled shut, Allen pulled out of the long dirt driveway, kicking up clouds of dry dust that were carried off by the gentle breeze. The van turned onto the lone paved road, which was merely gravel and clay covered in a thick layer of tar, and sped off in the direction of the main highway some five miles to the east.

Usually traffic was fairly heavy during the weekends, with cars flowing freely on both sides of highway 49; the main artery of transport in South Mississippi. But on this day, all the vehicles seemed to be packed on the north-bound side. The van waited in the center median for several minutes before traffic cleared enough for Allen to pull out onto the highway and begin the long trek northward to Hattiesburg, which lay some forty miles to the north.

“Look at that.” Rachael said, pointing to a formation of army helicopters rumbling overhead. “There sure are a lot of them. I wonder what they’re doing. Something doesn’t feel right about this.”

“Camp Shelby is probably running exercises again.” Allen replied, dismissing his wife’s concern with a shrug. “It’s nothing.”

“I don’t know, Allen. Something feels...off.” Rachael reiterated, turning her focus back to the helicopters flying in tight formation above. “Maybe we should listen to those news reports that were on earlier.”

Allen shook his head, thinking Rachael was overreacting as usual, and clicked the dial on the radio once more. This time, though, only static came through the speakers. He turned the knob, only to hear the same thing coming from every station he switched to.

“We’re not picking up any reception.” he noted. “We’re too far from the coast and not close enough to Hattiesburg to pick up anything.” he reasoned as he switched the radio off again.

Rachael’s face took on an expression of concern. “There’s usually something on. We’ve made this trip lots of times and there’s always been something on the radio.” she said.

“You worry too much.” he replied with a slight grin.

As was normally the case, traffic raced down the highway well in excess of the posted speed limit of sixty five miles an hour. But on this day, cars zoomed by the van at speeds that were far faster than what they usually were. Other vehicles closed in the tail of the van, flashing their headlights and honking their horns as if trying to urge Allen to drive even faster, before quickly changing lanes and racing by. Although Allen didn’t take the time to notice, a good many of the passing cars and trucks were filled with personal belongings haphazardly tossed in the back.

“What is with these maniacs?” Allen asked as he gazed at the long line of vehicles behind him in the rear view mirror. “This is why I hate going to Hattiesburg.”

“You’re father forgot to take his medicine again.” Bea said from the back of the van. “He needs a drink so he can take his pills.”

“I’m filling up before we hit town. I don’t want to have to deal with trying to get gas in Hattiesburg. I’ll get him a drink when we stop.”

Just south of the town of fifty thousand residents, Allen guided the van off the road, nearly getting sideswiped by yet another speeding car in the process, and into the last gas station before the interstate. As he was pulling up to the only remaining free pump, a red sports car attempted to dart in and cut him off. Allen laid on the horn and stomped the gas, jerking the van and all its occupants, and managed to beat the other vehicle to the pump.

“Asshole!” he yelled at the car through the open window. “Are you trying to get someone killed?”

The other driver said nothing, instead throwing his fist out the driver’s side window and flipping Allen the bird before squealing off back out into the road and causing several other cars to have to break hard and swerve onto the shoulder in order to avoid rear ending him.

“I’ve never seen anything like this before. People are crazy.” Allen fumed as he undid his seat belt and left the van.

“Don’t forget your father needs to take his medicine.” Bea reminded.

“Rach...you wanna go inside and get everyone a drink while I fill up?” Allen asked his wife as he undid the gas cap and inserted the pump into the fuel spout.

He gave Rachael a ten dollar bill as she asked everyone in the van what they wanted. She took the money and headed inside the small convenience store, which seemed oddly busy, even for a Saturday. Allen turned his attention back to the pump, sliding his credit card through the slot and flipping the switch. The steady clicks of the gas pump tallied off the dollars as he filled the van’s near-empty tank.

When the pump clicked off, indicating the tank was full; he gave a few more squeezes to top it off and round the dollar amount to an even number. With a few taps of the nozzle, he withdrew it and placed it back in its spot on the pump. After a few seconds, he could hear the small printer motor inside the pump come to life and the tiny slit spat out the receipt.

“One hundred and five dollars?” Allen said, astonished at the cost. “Jesus Christ, gas is expensive anymore.”

From behind him, a commotion caught Allen’s attention. Two men were arguing over something at the pump directly across from his. One of the men accused the other of trying to steal his gas by swiping the pump and placing it in his car while the other man was inside paying. Their shouts carried across the station, causing everyone there to stop and take notice. Allen was sure the two were about to come to blows at any second, but the second man ripped the still-pumping gas nozzle from his vehicle and threw it on the ground before jumping in his car and speeding away as gasoline spewed forth freely onto the concrete.

Wondering what was taking his wife so long to purchase a few soft drinks; Allen attempted to peer through the condensation-covered windows of the small store to see if Rachael was nearly done. The fog was too thick on the glass from him to be able to tell if she was in line at the register or not, so he leaned against the back of the van and folded his arms to wait for her.

That’s when he caught something strange out of the corner of his eye. His head swiveled around to see several vehicles heading north on the south-bound lane of the highway. His face scrunched up in confusion. At first, he thought that it might be just a few impatient motorists trying to find their way around the thick traffic, but as he saw even more cars traveling up the wrong side of the road he felt the oddness of the day’s events becoming more clear. There was indeed something going on.

“Is there a hurricane in the gulf and we didn’t hear about it?” he asked himself. That would certainly explain why people were acting the way they were. Every time a big storm entered into the Gulf of Mexico, many people gassed up their vehicles and headed north to safety. Hurricanes were a very real threat in this part of the country. The life changing disaster known as Katrina was still very fresh in the minds of the people around these parts, even though it had been nearly fifteen years since that storm wreaked total destruction on the coast.

That didn’t entirely explain the situation, however. Allen hadn’t seen anyone boarding up windows, which was always the case when a major stormed loomed. As far as he could tell, there wasn’t a run on crucial supplies such as batteries or water, either. People were just throwing what they could fit into their cars and racing north. They were certainly trying to get away from something, but what?

“Allen!” he heard Rachael call out from the store. “You better get in here and see this!”

“What?” he asked, confused and uncertain about what else this odd day had to offer.

“Just get in here!” she reiterated. “There’s something happening on the TV!”

“You guys sit tight. I’ll be right back.” Allen informed the rest of his family as they still waited in the van and went inside.

Upon entering the store and feeling the cold blast of air conditioning hit him, the first thing Allen noticed was the group of people gathered around the counter, all staring intently at the images on the small television that was mounted to the wall behind. He could tell by the words scrolling across the bottom and the quickly changing scenes that it was another news bulletin, but something was different about this one.

As the picture switched from one correspondent to the next, Allen could see the expressions of fear and panic in their faces and in the faces of the people behind them on the screen. There wasn’t a single word being said in the store as all eyes remain transfixed on images playing out before them.

“Beginning at midnight eastern time and lasting for forty eight hours, there will be an auction of every man, woman, child, and all their earthly possessions. The United States military, which is now under the control of Chinese and Saudi Arabian governments, respectively, will be spending the time until the start of the auction sealing off all metropolitan centers with orders to shoot anyone who tries to leave the cordoned off areas.” The newscaster said, reading nervously from his teleprompter.

“The American government has run out of money and incurred so much debt to these two nations that they have called this auction in order to cover their investments, which total nearly one point seven trillion dollars.”

“The President has issued a statement declaring nationwide martial law and the suspension of all civil liberties until further notice. All Americans are to return to their homes immediately. Members of law enforcement and the military will be going door-to-door, handing out bracelets similar to those used by persons under house arrest. The purpose of these bracelets is to monitor persons who are on the ‘auction block’ and inform those people of their status. We will bring you further updates on this developing situation as they become available.”

“Dear, God.” Rachael gasped. “How can they do this? How can this happen?”

Although he heard his wife’s words, it was like trying to listen to someone speak when one is underwater: The sounds were audible, but the specific words failed to register completely. Allen, like so many Americans, had grown accustomed to hearing bad news about disasters in far off places to far off people on a daily basis. While it was always disheartening to be bombarded with constant tragedy, it never really applied to Allen and his family; it never really affected their lives on a personal level. But somehow, this was different. This was a crisis that affected everyone and everything.

His mind didn’t really connect what it heard to the situation at first. When it came to hearing about the horrors of daily life across the globe, Allen, like many people, had a sort of built-in autopilot that allowed him to listen without making any real connection. Upon hearing the frightening details from the news anchor on the television, he instinctively went into this safe mode that allows one to cope with the stress and not go stark raving mad. But as Allen listened further, sparks began to trigger in his brain, waking it to the reality at hand. What was, at first, a casual concern, turned quickly into sudden terror when he realized that the man on the TV might as well be talking straight to him. His mind opened to the truth of what was happening and Allen did the only thing he could thing of.

“We have to get out of here now!” Allen shouted as he grabbed Rachael’s arm a forcefully dragged her out the door.

Both of them quickly jumped into the van and Allen punched the gas, speeding out of the gas station, veering out onto the highway, and nearly clipping several cars as he turned out into traffic.

“What are we going to do, Allen?” a visibly frightened Rachael asked her husband.

“We’re getting the hell out of here, that’s what!” he fired back as his weaved in and out of the cars, pushing the small van to its limits. “We’ll head north and find someplace secluded where they won’t be able to find us. The way I figure, they can’t sell us if they can’t give us one of those bracelets.”

“Allen, slow down!” Bea cried out from the back seat. “What’s your hurry? Did you remember to get your father a drink so he can take his pills?”

“Not now, Ma!” Allen shouted back. “Something terrible is happening.”

“What could be so bad that you have to drive like a lunatic?”

“The government is selling people off to pay for its debt. It starts tonight at midnight.”

“Oh, pshaw...” the old lady said, brushing off his concern. “Wherever did you get an idea like that?”

“It was on the news. That’s why people have been acting so crazy today. Haven’t you noticed?”

“What do you mean, ‘sell’?” Judy asked.

“Just like I said. There’s gonna be an auction that lasts two days. People and everything they own are going to be bid on like livestock or something. I don’t know what happens to them if they’re bought.”

“Can they even do that?”

“I’m not sure, sweetie, but everything so far looks like this is serious. Whatever the case, I’m not about to let someone try to buy you guys away from me and your mother.”

Allen buried the accelerator to the floor trying to gain every last bit of speed from the family-friendly van and the speedometer soon buried itself well past the one hundred mile per hour mark on the gauge. The thick pine forest whizzed by at a blur until they approached the clearing just outside the town of Hattiesburg, just before Interstate 12 overpass.

The cars beside them zoomed off the exit ramp, spilling onto the interstate below in their hurry to escape the oncoming tragedy that was sure to turn lives upside down forever. In the distance ahead, plumes of smoke could be seen billowing up into the sky, while down below on the interstate several accidents, some of which were quite severe, scattered debris and left crumpled vehicles on the roadway. Strangely enough, there were no emergency vehicles of any kind to been seen amid all the chaos.

“Why didn’t you take the interstate?” Rachael questioned as she stared out the window at the passing exit sign.

“Twelve runs east and west. We want to head north where it’s less populated.” Allen explained. “I’ll hit 59 north of Hattiesburg and take that as far as we can.”

Speeding into the city limits, all around them the scenes of carnage continued to play out, as wrecked vehicles with bloody passengers littered the road all the way into the heart of town; the burning cars and trucks spewing flames and throwing thick blankets of smoke high into the sky. Injured motorists tried to stop anyone they could for help, but the others were only concerned with saving themselves and their loved ones and kept driving, refusing to offer assistance of any kind.

“Oh my God, Allen.” Rachael muttered, putting her hand over her mouth in complete shock. “All those poor people.”

“There’s nothing we can do for them, Rach. They’re going to have to fend for themselves, just like us.” Allen replied stoically while he continued to focus on the road ahead, trying his best to hide his eyes from the death and destruction around them.

The van zoomed past the old mall and towards the hospital, into the busiest part of town. The glistening tower of the hospital rose into the sky majestically, belaying the truth of the situation on the streets below. Many of the windows on the first floor and the glass doors of the hospital had been shattered by looters, looking to nab any sort of medicine or aid they could get their hands on. While across the street, an even more disturbing scene was playing out, one that Todd couldn’t take his young eyes off no mattered how he tried.

A well-to-do couple was in their expensive sedan trying to flee to a better place, just like everyone else, but they had run into a bit of a snag. Their car had been surrounded by three police cruisers who were intent on stopping the couple from leaving the area. In attempting to get away, the man had run the luxury sedan into a light pole, crumpling the front end like foil. Steam and water gushed forth from under the hood, indicating that the car would take the couple no further. As the police encircled the car and shouted instructions for the man and the woman to surrender themselves, the driver’s side door burst open and the man came bolting out trying to make a break for it. The policemen fired their pistols at the escaping man. The Pop pop pop of the shots rang out in to the air and the man jerked as the bullets found their mark. He fell to the ground twitching while crimson liquid began to stain the asphalt where he lay.

“Dad!” Todd shouted, horrified. “Those cops just gunned that guy down!”

“Don’t look, kids!” Allen shouted.

“Why would they do that?” Judy asked mortified by what her young eyes had just witnessed.

Rachael looked at her husband, her eyes wide with terror, and said, “Allen, I’m scared.” stating what Allen had already known and what everyone else in the vehicle was plainly feeling.

Not wanting to take the chance that he and his family might be next, Allen urged more power from the van, speeding away as fast as the vehicle would carry him and his terrified passengers. The van dodged and veered around slower moving traffic and passed the overturned and burning wrecks that were starting to pile up, cluttering the highway.

On the left of them lay the Southern Miss campus, which was usually a hustle and bustle of students out enjoying the weekend sun. On this day, however, the entire place was a ghost town, save for the parking lot of M.M. Roberts stadium; its high balconies which could hold forty thousand people was visible from just about any place in the town. On the pavement outside, though, hundreds of military and police vehicles had been jammed into the parking lot, with large cloth tents and mobile command centers placed on the far northern end. At the southern end, a makeshift helicopter pad had even been set up. It was clear this was to serve as a focal point and headquarters for the bevy of government activity taking place in the area.

Allen pushed the family van passed its limits in an effort to get by the stadium without attracting unwanted attention. But before they could reach the perceived safety of the interstate on the northern end of town, their escape was halted by an army roadblock. Just over the final rolling hill before the city limits, several humvees, two Bradley transports, and a company of armed men barred the road ahead, forcing Allen to slam on the brakes when he saw them.

The tires squealed in agony against the asphalt as Allen jerked hard on the wheel, willing the small van to whip around in the middle of the road and tossing the occupants about the interior. His eyes fixed on the rear view mirror to see if any of the vehicles would break away from the blockade to give chase. Much to his relief, the soldiers appeared far too busy turning back the other traffic to notice.

“What do we do now?” Rachael asked.

“I’ll take highway 11 over to Columbia. There isn’t as many people over there and we might have a clear shot to go north.” Allen answered.

Upon taking the westward turn towards the highway, though, the van was met by yet another roadblock. The military and police were shutting down every exit to the north east and west, as Allen and his family found each road they tried was sealed off and secured. Unable to find a way out, the van soon became bogged down with the rest of the fleeing traffic and their progress ground to a halt.

A tap on something metallic on the glass caused Allen to look over and see a policeman standing just outside the van. He was giving instructions for Allen to roll the window down. After lowering his window, the officer held out his hand expectantly, obviously wanting to see Allen’s driver’s license and any other forms of identification.

“This entire area has been cordoned off, Mr. Latimer.” the policeman said in an eerily calm and detached voice as he scanned Allen’s license and other documents. “All citizens are to return to their homes. You’ll be given further instructions as they become available.”

Having no other choice, Allen turned the van around in the cramped quarters, barely missing several other vehicles as he nudged the van back and forth, and began to head back the way they came. His hands pounded against the steering wheel as he fumed and tried to think of any alternatives. However, he failed to come up with any.

“Now what?” Rachael asked again, to which her husband gave no reply, instead his gaze was focused on the road ahead.

“Allen!” she said loudly, trying to get his attention.

“What?” he snapped back, his hands clutching the steering wheel tightly.

“Now what are we going to do?”

“I don’t know.” he replied. “I guess we go back home and wait.”

“That’s it? That’s your grand plan?”

“What else can we do? They have the whole area blocked off.”

“How can you say that? I’m not going to let them sell us off like cattle. We’re people, dammit!” she huffed, her eyes welling up with tears from the strain. “How can they do this?”

“What do you want me to say, Rach? I can’t just wave my magic wand and make it all better. This is happening whether we like it or not.”

Rachael, having reached the limit of all she could take, buried her face in her hands and began sobbing. Allen reached his arm around her, rubbing her gently and saying, “Whatever happens, we’ll get through this together. I promise.”

“Your father isn’t feeling so good, Allen.” Bea said from the backseat. “He still hasn’t taken his medicine yet.”

“You and dad are coming home with us. I’m not letting any of you out of my sight until this is over with. He can take his medicine when we get there.” Allen replied.

The return trip back home was made in relative silence, aside from the occasional groan from Allen’s father as he fought with bouts of nausea, as each person thought about what the next few days would bring. Only this morning, their lives of a typical American family seemed so sure and concrete, as if etched in stone. Now, however, nothing was certain and there were far more questions than there were answers. They feared to even hope that things would turn out alright.

It was at their home that the family sat and waited for the impending doom each was sure to come at any minute. They gleaned what they could from the myriad of television news reports that played in an unending cycle, but after a while those all seemed to dissolve into a blur. The only thing any of them could be sure of was that nothing might ever be the same again.

“It’s expected there will be as many as 25 to 40 million people who will be sold once the auction starts tonight at midnight eastern time and runs for forty eight hours.” the voice on the TV said. “Members of the military and law enforcement are already handing out the bracelets that will be used during the auction. The President has asked that we all remain calm in this difficult crisis, perhaps the worst crisis in American history to date. How did it all come to this? For that we’ll go to our financial analyst...”

“Did you hear that, Allen? Not everyone is going to be sold. Not even half the people. There’s a chance we won’t even have to deal with it.”

“I heard.” Allen confirmed to his wife, nodding his head. “I can’t imagine they’ll be able to hand out three hundred million or more of those bracelets in such a short time either, even if they have been planning this for a long time. They’ll probably focus on the big cities like New York, Chicago, and Los Angeles. We should be as safe as any place this far from any major cities.”

“I hope you’re right.” Rachael said.

“Me, too.” Allen agreed sounding as if he was trying to convince himself as well.

The relief that was starting to fill all of them was to be short lived, however, as before long there came an ominous knocking at the door. Allen looked over at his wife, whose face had lost all color. The stiff rapping of a gloved fist on wood continued as Allen rose from his spot on the couch and nervously went to see who it was.

The frosted glass in the door did little to reveal who was knocking, as Allen could only make out several dark shadows in the waning sunlight. He brushed his hands through his air and took a deep breath in order to compose himself before warily reaching out and turning the metal knob. He pulled the door open and stuck his head around the edge to see three men in camouflage uniforms, two of which were holding assault rifles. The third held a clipboard with a stack of papers jammed in it; possibly a list of some sort.

“Allen Latimer?” the man with the clipboard asked, thumbing through the papers on his clipboard.

“Uh...yeah.” Allen responded meekly. “What’s this about?”

“We need you to gather all the members of your household and come outside immediately.”

“Okay, we’ll just be minute.”

“Now, Mr. Latimer.” the soldier replied sternly.

“Look, there’s an elderly man in here who’s sick and laying down. It might take me a minute or so to get him ready. If that’s a problem, then you’ll just have to deal with it. It’s not like we’re going to run off anywhere. You bastards already have all the roads blocked in.”

The soldier stood there for a minute with a grimace of disapproval on his face while he thought about it. “Fine, have it your way. But I’m leaving a man here until you comply.” he said as he pointed to one of the other men with a rifle and motioned for him to stay behind while the others went on to the next house.

“What did they want?” Rachael asked, her voice thick with apprehension.

“Everyone has to go outside. They’re gathering up everyone in the neighborhood from what I can tell.” Allen replied. “Everyone just stay calm. The auction hasn’t even started yet. They probably just want to take a head count or something.”

“Are you sure?”

“No.”

After Allen was able to rouse his father and help him get dressed, the entire family made their way out the door to find the armed soldier was still waiting for them. The soldier was a young man in his early twenties, and even though he was a highly trained individual, the look on his face showed that he was just as uncomfortable and uncertain about the situation as Allen and his family was.

He shifted his rifle to one side and said, “please come with me, sir.”

Allen and the others complied, following the soldier as he led them down the street to where the rest of the residents in the area had been gathered. Everyone Allen and Rachael knew from the neighborhood had been corralled up like sheep, each of them expecting the very worst. There were army trucks and police cars parked across the road on one end, and a line of soldiers and police officers sealing off the path behind. Hardly anyone was speaking, except for a few soft murmurs that could be heard here and there.

One of the army officers, a colonel, grabbed a megaphone and climbed onto the back of one of the flatbed trucks. A high pitched squeal emanated from the horn when he started to address the group,

“You’ve all been gathered here so that we can hand out to each of you one of these.” he said, holding up a black cloth bracelet that had a small box with three lights on it: Red, yellow, and green in color.

“These are your auction bracelets.” he continued to explain to the horrified crowd. “They will allow you to keep track of which of your family members are on the ‘block’ and what the outcome is. The yellow light will flash three times to indicate that you have been placed on the ‘block’ and it will remain lit during the entire time buyers are placing their bids, which shouldn’t be more than just a few minutes. After all bids are placed the yellow light will flash three more times. If the green light comes on, that means no bids were accepted and you and your possessions were failed to be sold. If the red light comes on, it means that a successful bid has gone through and you and all you own have become the property of the buyer. If you try to tamper with or remove the bracelet in any way, an alarm will go off instantly alerting officials. Any attempts to remove them will be dealt with harshly, so don’t so it. This is your only warning.”

“This is bullshit!” a man’s voice cried out from the crowd. “You can’t just sell us off. Who said you could do this?”

“I’m well aware this won’t easy for any of us, but it’s best if we all just do our duty. These arrangements were made at a very high level and come down from the highest authority. Before you know it, this will all be over with. It’s best just to cooperate and make this as painless as possible”

“How come you don’t have one of those things on your wrist?” another person demanded.

“Members of the military and law enforcement, as well as all government officials are exempt from being auctioned.”

“That’s bullshit! How come you don’t have to put your families at risk?” came another shout from the increasingly anxious crowd.

The colonel tried to calm the frustration of the group, saying “I’m sure you know by now that the Chinese and Saudi governments have taken over financial and physical control over the United States military. We didn’t have the chance you have. We already belong to someone else, whether we like it or not. It was decided that elected officials wouldn’t be a part of the auction so that order could be restored in the days after. Those who hold our nation’s vast debt thought it might be wisest not to have the entire country plunged into chaos.”

“If you think I’m gonna let you slap one of those things on me and my family, you’re crazy!” another man shouted up at the colonel. “We outnumber you ten to one. What’s to stop us from rushing up there and taking those bracelets from you?”

Without saying a word, the colonel merely gestured to his men who raised their rifles at the man and opened fire, gunning him down were he stood, horrifying all those gathered below as screams of panic erupted. His wife collapsed over the man’s bloodied body, howling in grief.

“You bastards!” she cried. “You filthy bastards! How could you?”

“As you can see,” the colonel explained, “the use of deadly force to carry out our mission has been authorized. The same thing will happen to anyone else who tries to resist, so I suggest you comply peacefully.”

The stunned crowd stood silent. Each of them prayed that they were in some sort of nightmare and would wake to find themselves in the comfort of their bed. But the nightmare was proving to be all too real, and none of them would be able to escape its terrible effects. Allen’s children looked at him with horror in their eyes; their youthful innocence that he and Rachael spent years protecting had been ripped away in one graphic instant. He really didn’t know what to say to them, if there was anything to be said at all. Without further delay, everyone present was lined up single-file and the slow process of handing out the bracelets started.

Allen watched as the people before him and his family stepped up to another soldier holding a clipboard who was sitting behind a fold-out table. He checked each person’s identity against his list while a soldier sitting beside him fastened a bracelet around the person’s wrist and checked it to make sure it was functioning properly before waving them on and ushering the next person forward.

When it was time for Allen and his family to receive their bracelets, he looked at his wife and kids with somber eyes, wondering if this was to be his last memories of them together. Rachael, like many of the mothers present, consoled her children through teary eyes as best she could. And though Allen and his wife promised that nothing would ever happen to break them apart, both were well aware that it was a promise they may not be able to keep.

The bracelets were fastened onto each of their wrists and checked to make sure they were in proper working order as the soldier with the clipboard jotted down next to the family members’ names the unique identification number associated with each bracelet. All of them looked down at the black boxes affixed to their wrists, thinking of it as more of a bomb that could go off at any time.

“How do we know who’s bidding on us?” Allen inquired as his fingers explored the small box.

“You won’t.” the soldier answered. “It’s all done anonymously. It might be the Chinese government, or someone from the private sector in that country or another. You won’t find out until after you’ve been sold.”

As Allen’s parents stepped up to get their bracelets, the soldier with the clipboard looked up at them with confusion on his face. “It says here that you don’t reside with your son. Why aren’t you at your own house?” he asked.

“My father has special needs. He’s a diabetic and recently had a stroke. I’m the only one who can help my mother take care of him.” Allen replied.

“I see.” the soldier noted before waving them through without wrapping a bracelet on them.

“How come they didn’t get bracelets?” Rachael asked, shocked.

“There’s not much point in auctioning the sick and old, now is there?” the soldier replied casually without ever looking up at her, instead focusing on the next group of individuals in line.

“That’s not very fair.” Rachael hissed back. “We have to go through this torture, so should they.”

“C’mon, Rach, making a scene isn’t going to help anything.” Allen consoled.

“That’s easy for you to say, Allen, because it’s your parents. What about my parents? What about our kids?”

“I’m sure your parents are just fine. If they aren’t putting these damned things on the elderly, your parents should be safe, too.”

“They better be.”

As nightfall gripped the area in its icy grasp, Allen and his family walked back towards their house. They stepped through the doorway and into the darkened domicile. No one bothered turning on any of the lights, as they all sat or paced quietly in the darkness. As the hour neared for the start of the auction, tension began to rise unbearably inside everyone. It was as if the greatest of all white elephants stood in the center of the living room, each of them unwilling to speak of it for fear of drawing its attention to them.

“This is insane.” Bea finally said, breaking the deafening silence. “We can’t all just sit here like this. This could be all the time we have left together. I don’t want to remember it this way. As hard as it seems, we should try to enjoy it.”

“Ma...”

“No, Allen. I don’t want what could potentially be the last images I have of my grandchildren to be ones of sadness. If I don’t find a way to cope with this, I swear I’ll go stark raving mad.”

“What are you gonna do? Take them to the park, or to a movie?” Allen jeered sarcastically.

“I didn’t raise you to be so pessimistic about everything. Where you got that from, I’ll never know.” Bea retorted. “But we have to do something to take our minds off this nightmare...if only for a little while.”

“Aw, Bea, leave the boy alone.” Gabe chimed in. “He’s as hardheaded as you are. If he wants to pout, let him.”

“Alright, have it your way. But I’m not just going to sit on my duff. I’m gonna make a cake.” The old woman announced while she walked toward the kitchen. “Who wants to help me?”

For long seconds, there came no reply. The family sat in the dimness of the room eying each other to see if any would be brave enough to volunteer. “I’ll help you, Grandma.” Judy said as she hopped up from the couch.

“Me, too.” Todd added. “It beats just sitting here waiting for the world to end.”

“That’s my kids.” Bea replied, beaming a smile. “Now let’s go make ourselves a cake.”

Judy rummaged through the cabinets and pantry before declaring, “We don’t have any cake mix. We can’t make a cake.”

“Cake mix?” Bea replied, almost as if she was appalled by the idea. “We don’t need any old mix. We’re going to do it the proper way: From scratch.”

Over the course of the next couple of hours, Bea taught her grandchildren the fine art of making a cake from scratch, just as her mother showed her how many years before. And for a time, it was almost as if there was a sense of normalcy while the old woman carefully measured, poured, and stirred the ingredients together before pouring the batter into a pan and placing it into the hot oven.

As the cake slowly baked inside the oven, Bea reminisced to the children about how their father would often help her bake all sorts of cakes, pies, and other treats when he was young. Soon, Allen spoke up trying to defend himself against his mother’s outrageous tales and insisting she was remembering it all wrong. And before anyone noticed, all of them had joined the conversation, casually talking as if it was merely another Sunday dinner.

The talking continued even after the cake had been taken out of the oven and was frosted with homemade butter-cream frosting. The cake was sliced up and served, along with coffee for the adults and milk for the kids.

Allen cut off a large crumbly chunk with his fork and popped it into his mouth, thinking it was quite possibly the best thing he’d ever tasted. As he savored each bite, he was transported back to his childhood when his mother would often bake cakes for him. And even though he didn’t say anything, he thought to himself that this was as proper a final memory as one could possibly hope for: The six of them gathered around the dining table chatting as if everything was perfectly normal.

With a quick glance at the clock hanging on the wall, a chill shot through Allen as he saw it was nearly eleven at night. Only a few minutes before the auction was slated to begin. Without saying a word, he pushed his chair away from the table, stood up, and went into the living room, causing everyone else to fall silent, realizing the dreadful hour was nearly upon them.

The screen on the TV came to life as Allen pushed the power button on the remote. As had been the case all day, a worried looking news anchor was staring into the camera giving final updates. He read from his prompter in a calm yet somber voice, his eyes showing signs of strain.

“...all private and commercial assets have been frozen for the next two days.” he said. “How many of us will be forced to bear the brunt of the mistakes of an entire nation, no one knows. But as the time draws near, all the streets are empty while people lie huddled together, locked inside their houses as if they’ve suddenly become prisons.”

The rest of the family all rose from the table and joined Allen in the living room, their eyes fixated on the reporter on the television. “And now as the fateful hour approaches, we will be signing off in accordance with an executive order handed down this afternoon by the President. As stated earlier in our telecast, all TV and radio broadcasts will be suspended for the next forty eight hours. Internet and cellular phone traffic will also be interrupted during that time. We can only pray that the America we all know and love can find a way to survive. May God be with each and every one of you. Goodnight.”

With the anchor’s last words, the screen faded to black. For a few seconds, the station’s logo popped up on the screen before abruptly disappearing, leaving only static behind.

Allen looked back at the clock to see the second hand tick past the number twelve, which for some reason seemed much larger than it normally did. The entire family looked at one another, as if trying to take in each member’s face so it could be forever etched in memory. Any joy or false hope that had been raised over the past few hours was quickly swept away and cast aside as the reality of the situation reasserted itself.

For all of them, the ticking seconds turned into a strange and terrifying countdown, with each passing tick of the clock ringing louder and louder in their ears. Each click of the second hand as it wound its way around the face grew more deafening than the last, continuing to fray their already unsettled nerves. After all the frightening things they’d seen in one day, all of them knew the worst was still to come.

The hours seemed to grind to a halt. Allen and his family waited out the darkness for the light of morning to come, even though daylight would offer little respite. Not even the sun’s bright rays would be able to penetrate the thick gloom that hung in the air. The worry and fear almost seemed to become a living thing of its own, able to be touched and tasted. Allen knew that in every house similar events were playing out, with families clutching together, hoping that it wouldn’t be the last time they did so, but knowing all too well the it probably was.

Those that were able to sleep did so in the living room for fear of waking up to find a loved one had been taken from them. It was like waiting beside someone’s deathbed without knowing which of them was the one laying on it.

Occasionally, they would hear gunshots ring out into the night; sometimes the sounds were much closer than any of them preferred. At times, the shots were accompanied by yelling or screaming as an unfortunate family was greeted with the horrifying news that one of them had been sold. Large military trucks would come rumbling down the streets, loaded down with unwilling passengers whose lives were no longer their own. Those in Allen’s house tried to deal with things as best they could, occupying their minds with some distraction, but the strain proved to be too great and mostly they just sat or paced about in silence.

Then it happened. Just as the first light of the new day was spreading across the land, the bracelet on Judy’s arm beeped. The yellow light flashed three times and then stayed lit. The young girl could only look up at her parents, her eyes wide with fear.

“Mom?” was all she could ask.

“Oh, dear God, no!” Rachael gasped. “Not my baby. Please, not my baby.” she said frantically as the tears burst forth once more.

The light stayed lit for hours it seemed, teasing and torturing them. Allen’s heart pounded in his chest harder than it ever had before and he could feel his head getting weak. He wanted to scoop his little girl up in his arms are carry her away to someplace safe. He wanted to chase the bogeymen away like he did when she was just a small child. But he was as helpless as the rest. There was no way to make any of this better. Seething hatred started to bubble up inside him at those who would do this to such an innocent child.

Then, at last, there came another beep from the bracelet. The yellow light blinked off and was replaced by another: Green.

“Thank you...” Rachael muttered weakly as she collapsed into a heavy sob, grasping her baby girl as tightly as she could.

The rest closed in around, unable to contain their relief with all of them weeping freely. They squeezed tightly together, almost as if they were trying to become one, trying to become a part of her and be shielded by the safety she was now assured. There was great consolation in knowing that at least one of them would be spared. The rest, however, were still stuck in the middle of the minefield, awaiting their fate.

Morning came and went without another incident. Outside, the birds chirped and the sun shone as if it were just another day. The warmth and beauty of it could easily mislead one into thinking these were much happier times. But on closer inspection, that fragile image was totally shattered by army trucks and police cars driving up and down the roads, ensuring that everyone stayed corralled where they were until the auction was over.

It was just before noon when a large military truck crammed with ordinary people pulled up to the house just down the street. Several armed soldiers hopped out and approached the front door to collect another of the auction’s victims. The door burst open and a woman raced outside, screaming and pleading with the men. But her cries of mercy fell on deaf ears as the soldiers swarmed into the house. They reappeared shortly afterward, dragging a man along with them who was kicking and screaming the entire way, and hoisted him up into the back of the truck with the rest of their living cargo before speeding off.

“They got Mr. Simmons.” Todd said as he looked out the window, with the others in the house gathering around him so they could see the commotion.

“Poor Beverly.” Rachael noted, turning to her husband as if wondering what would happen to her if the same scene were to play out at their house.

They all turned from the window, not wanting to witness any more of the depressing events that were playing out just beyond their doorstep, as if not watching somehow made it less real. After more than day of fear and uncertainty, a sort of numbness began to take hold. When faced with such monstrous circumstances over a period of time, a bit of disconnect from their surroundings and their situation was starting to assert itself. It was the only protection they had to keep their sanity intact, and even that wasn’t doing much good.

More hours passed and night once again covered the land with its thick blanket. Although none of their bracelets became active, it did little to calm the agitated members of Allen’s family. In fact, it had quite the opposite effect, as those in the house became even more jumpy, quickly snapping their eyes down onto the device strapped to their wrists at even the slightest noise, waiting for the tell-tale beeps to indicate that their worst fears had come true. Allen thought he knew how a man set before a firing squad would feel, blindfolded and waiting for the inevitable doom that was sure to come at any second, but not knowing exactly when that time was.

His hands started to shake and his thoughts became more difficult as the lack of sleep was beginning to show its affects. One glance at his wife revealed that she wasn’t fairing any better than he, with her frazzled hair and deep, dark circles growing beneath her weary eyes.

As the dawn came again, everyone was surprised to find the family still intact, though that did little to quell their apprehension. Allen’s parents had each found a peaceful spot to rest and recharge for a few hours, and even the two teens managed to get some much-needed sleep. But Rachael and Allen refused to let their drooping eyelids close for more than an instant, even though they both desperately needed to sleep. They were both too afraid that something would happen while they slept and they wouldn’t be there to do anything in order to prevent it.

The sun moved in its path across the sky and the shadows on the ground became longer and longer. The thirty six hour mark passed without internal incident. However, the pop of gunfire and the scattered cries of neighbors who had just lost loved ones still rang out occasionally. Fewer and fewer trucks carrying human cargo could be seen rumbling up and down the streets. Still, Allen and his family waited, their eyes always being drawn back to the clock as the sun set on the final day of the auction.

With only two minutes remaining, hope at last was finding a place in their souls. Allen and Rachael embraced their children and each other for a long time, confident in the fact that theirs was still a complete family.

“We made it.” Rachael said, breaking down on her husband’s shoulder as all the fear and frustration of the past two days was finally released in a deluge of tears. “We made it.”

Allen put his arms around her, holding her close against his chest. Whatever the future held, at least they would be able to face it together, unlike many unfortunate families across the land. Their house was still whole.

Then, without warning, the bracelet in Allen’s wrist chirped a loud beep. Rachael and Allen’s eyes immediately fixed on it to see the small blinking yellow light. They stood there dumbfounded as the light stayed lit for a moment, and then flashed red.

The End.