Wattys 2022 Bootcamp

Human Bait - @spelunkadunk

Logline

In a barren wasteland ravaged by Infection and war between North and South, an idealistic Southie must win the heart of a misanthropic Northerner in order to save humanity.

Blurb

For eight years, Zafaru has fought to survive the freezing cold, constant hunger, and vicious Infected. Armed with only perseverance and sass, he clings to a dream of saving the world.

For eight years, Recluse has enjoyed watching the world burn from the safety of his fortress. The Infected don't bother him. He saves his bullets for humans.

When Recluse captures Zafaru, opposing views collide, and the misanthrope is enchanted by his captive's wit, humor, and passion. So when Zafaru sets out to uncover the sinister truth about the growing Infection, Recluse has no choice but to join him. He'll do whatever it takes to keep this fluffy-haired do-gooder alive.

Even if he has to save the world.

First 1,000 Words

"Call me a hopeless romantic, but I promised my wife I'd never take another woman. So ever since the Infected ate her, I've only fucked men."

"How touching." I spread my hands out in front of the fire and watched orange light flicker between my thin fingers. "But what's in it for me?"

The man beside me sniffled back a trail of snot and slipped a hand into his coat pocket. With a flourish, he slapped a wad of Northerner cash onto my lap.

I plucked up the cash and flipped through it absently, noting the silver "one thousand" stamped on each bill. Once, a thousand Southie units would have purchased food for me and my father for a week. And once, Northerner units were worth even more than Southie ones.

Once.

I chucked the money into the fire.

"What the fuck, man?" the man sputtered as the fire devoured the offering. "That could be worth something again ten years from now."

"Ten years from now, we'll all be dead." I stood and shifted a quarter turn away, wincing as the snow infiltrated the broken soles of my boots. "If that's all you've got, I'll be on my way."

My nonchalance masked a silent prayer. Please, Ether, let him give me a better offer. My stomach gnawed at my ribcage, a twisting ache a couple stages past hunger, and I couldn't bear to leave the fire's heat just yet.

The man flicked his wrist, gloved with enviable worn leather. "Fine, fine. Sit your ass back down."

When I plopped down again, the chair legs rocked back, digging through the snow to meet the frigid ground. The greasy man dug a hand into his pocket. After a moment of rummaging, he tossed a cloth sack onto my lap. I yanked the string loose, and a few grains of white rice spilled out.

I raised my eyebrows at the man beside me. The firelight glimmered on his yellow teeth, his greasy brown strands of hair, and his shiny lump of a nose.

"One little sack of rice? You really think that's all I'm worth?"

He huffed a laugh, and one whiff of his sour breath jerked my head back toward the fire. "Look, you're a pretty one, even with those fucking weird-ass eyes, but us Northerners are having a hard enough time as it is without accommodating any refugees."

That stung more than I wanted to admit. Not the bit about my green eyes, which were perfectly normal in the South, but that word 'refugee.' When I made my month-long trek through the mountains that separated the South from the North, I had dreamed of finding a Southie research base here and helping them cure the Infected. But after months of fruitless searching and constant hunger, I had given up. Now, I dreamed only of my next meal.

I was just as pathetic as my father had always claimed.

As usual, I buried my emotion in sass. "Oh, is that what this exchange is about? Accommodating a refugee?"

Greaseball frowned. "You know, you got a big mouth for a guy your size. You really think you'll get a better offer around here?"

I folded my arms over my chest and leaned back on the chair, an action I regretted when the cold wind sucked away the meager warmth of the flames. "Other Cutthroat Crew members have paid me better."

He fidgeted with the red Cutthroat Crew band over his wrist. "Well, that must have been before the Infected made it this far North. Now things are getting hard, even for such a fearsome crew. But we're still dreaming big! Just last month, we plundered an entire schoolhouse."

"Oh, wow. You must have so many dry-erase markers."

"And that's not all! This last month, we started planning something ballsy. And by ballsy, I mean big, big balls, like... well, I can take off my pants, if you want the full demonstration. Anyway..."

He continued talking, but I stopped listening. He had been right about one thing: I hadn't sold services in months.

It wasn't for lack of interested customers. Apparently, fear of death had remarkably little influence on sex drive. Rather, the payment had declined, the risk had increased, and the freezing cold made the entire ordeal significantly less tolerable. Eventually, I had discovered a far less repulsive but even more dangerous food source. The land even more mystical than Etherland, the paradise no one else would brave, the secret refuge, the...

"Recluse Fortress?"

I stiffened, fingers digging into the sack of rice. "What?"

"I said," Greaseball repeated, "what do you know about the Recluse Fortress?"

My eyes darted to his face. His eyes shone bright enough to compete with the trail of snot slipping toward his wet lips, but his expression did not convey any suspicion. I sucked in a breath and relaxed my hands.

"Only that it's the last fortress standing around here," I said, "And that it's owned by a man barely more human than the Infected."

He snorted. "Ether knows Recluse was barely human even before this all started. That fucker probably smiled and sipped hot tea as he watched society collapse from the safety of his tower. But even he is fallible, and we've got ten or twenty good fighters preparing to take him down." He shimmied back his shoulders and smirked at me. "After that, the Cutthroat Crew will be rich enough that I can double that payment and do this again every night."

"Oh, joy."

His smirk dropped, and his eyes narrowed. "Look, you gonna take the rice or give it back?"

My eyes slipped to the sack of rice on my lap, and I imagined in its place the much larger bag of rice I had eaten the week before, accompanied by a can of beans and even some dehydrated veggies. I chewed on my lip. I'd done worse for less before I discovered the combination to the cellar door of Recluse's fortress. The food and blankets I'd stolen from him had gotten me through the first two months of winter, but I had promised myself I would not steal from him again. The risk grew each time, and only Ether knew what he would do if he caught me.

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