The Scavenger

Jack walked through the field, the stench of dead bodies floating up through the air and into his nose, despite the handkerchief he wore over his face.

Bodies were everywhere. They went for miles in every direction, and were a couple of feet deep. Deeper in some places. Broken, bloody, and completely lifeless. Most of them were naked--already picked clean ages ago. Jack walked through the bodies quickly, only giving them a quick glance before moving on. They weren’t what he was looking for.

It seemed a lifetime ago that Jack was a preacher in his small town. Now, Jack was employed as a scavenger. It wasn’t an easy job--never had been. The stench of rotting flesh, the horror of death, always surrounding him. But it did seem to be getting easier. It had to. He just couldn’t let it get to him anymore. This job was the only thing keeping his family alive since the end of the second civil war.

No one had seen that war coming. Looking back on it, they should have. All of America should have known it was imminent. They should have seen the tension, the conflict roiling among the citizens. They should have known the people couldn’t live in peace with all that was going on between the parties.

Jack stepped over the body of a child, a bullet hole through their head, and quickly turned his eyes away, not wanting to dwell on the loss of the young life. There would be too much sorrow if he did. And he couldn’t afford that right now. His family was out of food, and he needed to provide for them. Letting those feelings in would only distract him from the task at hand.

Jack paused for a moment to look over the field of bodies, for any hint of color other than the color of skin. It still surprised him how many people had died. He didn’t know when the killing had begun. But it had been non-discriminatory. And brutal. And for what? A fight over religious differences and morals. That was what had torn the nation apart and what had killed so many innocent lives.

It might not have come to that if the nation had kept some sense of morals. Had remembered what it was founded on. If people hadn’t pushed so hard for their own rights over the rights of others. Everyone was at fault for that. Both sides.

A spot of black in the sea of skin caught Jack’s attention now.  He peered closer, and saw a man, fully clothed, lying at the edge of a hill of bodies. This is what he was here for.

Jack wanted to rush to the body as quickly as he could, but he knew that would be a mistake. It would only draw the attention of other scavengers. And with as few bodies as there were left with clothing, he couldn’t afford to lose this one. His family’s life depended on it. 

So, slowly, Jack moved over to the man’s body, and bent down. The man seemed to be holding onto the naked body beneath him--a woman, pregnant. Jack looked on the scene with sadness. This man must have been searching for his wife--a victim of the war. And, when he finally found her, he would rather die beside her body than go on living without her. 

He said a prayer for the dead--a ritual he insisted on doing every time he took something from someone. The lingering preacher in him. And then he began to strip the man of his clothes. The coat, shirt, pants, underwear, socks, and shoes—all of it together could be traded for enough food to last his small family a week.

Jack took the backpack off his shoulders and began folding the items one by one and putting them in the bag to carry home. They would need washed before he took them to market to sell. As he folded the coat, though, he felt something hard in one of the pockets, and he stopped.

Excitement coursed through him, as he considered what it might be. It was rare to find a wallet on the bodies, but sometimes it happened. And when it did, it often provided enough money to make a person rich by post war standards. 

Jack reached into the left pocket, but found it empty. The right side pocket was empty too. Jack furrowed his brows and studied the coat. Those seemed to be the only two pockets.

He patted the coat down until he found the hard place again. Turning it inside out, he could make out a rectangular shape beneath the fabric. And there was a small seam just above it. It looked like there used to be a pocket there, but someone had sewn it shut.

Jack pulled a knife from his own pocket, and studied the seam. It didn’t seem possible to cut the stitches without ruining the coat. And he knew the value would go down if it had a hole in it. Still, if it were a wallet hidden inside, it would be worth it.

So, very carefully, Jack cut the stitches, hoping he might be able to resew the seam before trying to sell the coat. When the gap seemed large enough to pull the object through, he stopped.

Sticking two fingers into the hole, he carefully pulled the object out. For a moment, he sat still in great disappointment. He had hoped it would be a wallet with a small fortune inside. But he should have known that would be too good to be true. That hardly ever happened to people around here. And certainly not to him. He was the most unlucky scavenger he knew. Which was probably why his family was in such poor condition, financially.

No, it wasn’t a wallet he pulled out, but a book. A very small book. Curious as to what kind of book would be sewn into a coat, Jack turned it over so he could see the front cover. And his eyes popped open in surprise.

“This can’t be!” he whispered to himself. Looking around to be sure no one else was near, Jack looked at it again. There, in faded ink were the words Holy Bible.

It had been years since Jack had seen a Bible. Not since the end of the war, when Bibles were declared illegal and all of them were burned. He had been so sad to let his go, but he knew it had to be done--he would die, otherwise. 

And yet, here was a man who had taken a stand. Had figured out a way around the law, and kept the Bible. A man who had stood up for what was right. A man who had unknowingly given new life to Jack.

“Thank you, God!” Jack looked up to heaven. A simple prayer. But the first prayer of thanksgiving he had said in awhile. He had come to believe at some point over the past few years that there might not be anything left worth being thankful for. And now there was. He knew this would be a turning point in his life. 

In fact, it could be a turning point for the nation. If he could just get the book out there somehow for people to see. Or maybe he could preach again. Quietly, so as not to garner any attention from the law. Invite people into his home on Sundays so they could have a quiet Bible study. And then they could spread the word to others. It could be an underground railroad of sorts, all based on teaching the Bible. A shiver of excitement ran up Jack’s spine, as he thought of the possibilities. Thought of having a Bible of his own again.

He quickly wrapped the Bible up in the man’s jacket and pushed it down into his backpack. He couldn’t wait to get home so he could show his wife. Elizabeth had been just as sad to see the Bibles destroyed, and he knew she would be as excited as him to know that they still existed. Even if it was just the one.

But at the thought of his wife, Jack stopped short. His wife--sick and tired, with threadbare clothes and holey shoes. His three children in similar condition. And all of them living in a small house with holes in the roof and walls. Barely any protection from the elements. No food to eat. And winter coming. 

Jack let out a heavy sigh. He couldn’t keep the Bible. They needed the money. A Bible in this condition could fetch enough money on the black market to let them survive the winter. And without the money, they would surely die. Scavenging had slowed down a lot already, most of the bodies picked over now. And he imagined it would only get worse.

No, as much as he longed to, as much as he knew he should, he couldn’t afford to keep the Bible. And he couldn’t tell Elizabeth about it. She would insist on keeping it, even if it meant dying of starvation and exposure over the cold winter. Because the soul is far more important than the physical body. 

Which is what Jack used to believe, too. 

But things had changed. 

No. Elizabeth could never know. He would have to sell it so they could survive the winter. And she could never find out. She could never know what he had done. He would lie to her if he had to. Tell her it was a wallet in the man’s coat. She simply couldn’t know the truth, because it would devastate her. And she may never forgive him.

So, with resolution, Jack set his eyes toward town, and started off for the market, intent on trading his soul for the lives of his wife and kids.