King

• Lara Holt, Grade 10
• Short Story
• 2016

Axel sat on his milk-crate throne in the middle of the warehouse. He tapped his knife against the crates, bored. His minions would be back soon, and then they could eat whatever Axel didn’t want.

The toxic wastelands of the New World made Axel smile. He enjoyed the power it gave him. He was powerful, and he was King, and of course he had everything under control. Axel took the best of the food and left his minions to shiver.

-

“Sir?”
It was Flint. In the middle of the night.
“Sir, there’s an intruder in the storage shed.”
“I didn’t make you chief of the watch for nothing! Get rid of him!”
“She wants to talk to you, sir.”
Axel sighed. “Bring him – her – into the throne room.”

-

She was the first girl they had seen in years and amidst the almost-rabid boys she shrank against the wall. This would be over quickly. Axel stalked toward her, ignoring the empty oil drums in his path and the noise as they were knocked over.
“What were you doing here?”
Tears dribbled down her face. “Our home was bombed,” she whispered. “I was hungry.”
Axel was gleeful. “In my kingdom, we punish thieves. Flint?”
Flint shoved her and she fell to the ground. He moved to kick her in the face.
“You can have her, if you want,” Axel declared, feeling magnanimous.
He went back to bed, leaving Flint to clean up the mess.

-

The next few weeks were as miserable as the hundreds before them: cold and dark and damp. Axel smiled, knife in hand. Any miniscule concerns he’d had were gone.
But his good mood faded as he saw Flint and that girl whispering to each other. Again.

-

He noticed a group leaving to hunt with Flint. That was Axel’s territory. He gripped his knife. Of course everything was okay. He was King. He was in control.

-

Axel lounged on his throne, eager to spill some blood. He felt for his knife and felt panic rise up when he saw it was gone.
“Flint!”
Flint looked bored.
“My knife!”
There was a pause and Axel’s face flushed in anger. “You can’t betray me and get away with it!” he roared.
Flint shifted. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Axel let out a crazed laugh. “No idea? Where is it, traitor?”
Some of the kids were muttering.
“I know what you’re doing! You’re all working against your King!”
Several kids edged away – Axel knew to attack him. He stumbled back, and fell, tripping over his throne, the milk crates crashing around him.
Silence.
Slowly, his minions turned to face Flint, leaving Axel alone amidst the empty crates.

“We’re leaving.” The sharp voice rang out, not Flint but the girl. She looked different now, harder, stronger – a leader. One by one, they filed out behind her.
The last in the line, Flint smiled triumphantly. “I’m King, now.”

-

Axel stood slowly, smirking. He surveyed his warehouse and began rebuilding his throne.