Give Me Love or Give Me Death

Give me love or give me death give me love or give me death give me love or give me death! The boys of their small city shouted it. Not to one another, or in a unanimous chorus, but in their own minds. In the narrow, sneaking margins of their gloomy days, whatever tasks filled them now. It was true, they were all still boys. Not in the way that some people call young men just boys—these were actual boys, some no older than fourteen. Some had known a life of only this, while some had seen the world before it had gone to such hell, so many years ago now.

Give me love or give me death give me love or give me death give me love or give me death! In the silent moments, those crevices of hushed winds, of worn work boots crunching on crumbled streets underneath. It was all they wanted—to know the love of some life before, or some fabled fate beyond all this. But more and more, with each passing day, the latter choice appeared not yet superior, but tolerable. Give me love or give me death. The boys couldn’t say it to one another. They didn’t say a single thing out loud anymore. They weren’t sure if their pack was the only one left, or if some other gaggle of boys just like them wandered about this scape, tight-lipped, dirty, and miserable. A world without women. Who would have thought it could bring such chaos?

Today, the boys were on lookout. For what, nobody was sure, but the men and older boys before them had taught them to do it, and so they circled their perimeters, winding around one another with slight nods and grunts, never fully speaking. How long had it been since any of them had spoken? Had uttered a single word? None of them were sure when the words died out—especially the younger ones, who mostly did as they were told and knew no better. If one of them tried to speak now, they may well be completely mute. But none of them had ever tried. Maybe it took a few years for the words to truly fall away, but all they knew now was this chasm of relative silence.

As they circled, the smaller boy nodded to the tall and lanky boy, who offered a glance to a dark and stocky boy. In their minds they hummed the only words they knew. Give me—

Wherever they were in their silent chant, they halted on instinct, for her. A girl. Most of the boys had never seen one before. Sure, there were old pictures still around, glossy over the front and torn at the edges. Dirty magazines that didn’t seem real. Maybe even a blinking pass on cracked, oil-marked screens. But this was different. She was a real girl.

The girl was lying on the street, her shiny forehead tilted up to face the stark sunlight. She wore boys’ clothes—a dirty t-shirt and military-style pants cut off mid-thigh. Boots like theirs with thick socks underneath. Her hair wasn’t much longer than any of the boys, but she was here. Unmistakably a girl.

A few of the older boys nodded at the circle beginning to form around her, like a cluster of bees stacking onto one another. Together, each of them took a finger’s weight of her, lifting her together. They were sure of this, abandoning their duties for the immediacy of it all. This was what they’d been looking out for. This new thing. This girl.

Near the top of her head, the medium round-faced boy and the smallest boy took note of the one thing on her body that couldn’t have belonged to some man somewhere. Around her neck, she wore a heart-shaped locket on a plain, thick chain. Before they lifted her, it sat hidden beneath her shirt, but as they took care in handling her body, that one thing was the part of her that dipped out of place, dangling instead at her chest. It clearly held something inside of it, and their minds began to pedal in the silent race of what it might be. Just maybe, it could tell the boys something about her—who she was or where she came from.

When the boys got back to their quarters, they laid her on the most comfortable bed they could manage, fluffed with their spare blankets and pillows, all tattered and held for comfort in their darkest of hours. The locket still hung down, gleaming on the patchy light of the day above. Her eyes stayed softly closed, her whole body a soft and malleable gel, ready to be moved, but not to move itself. They couldn’t be sure if she was beautiful exactly. That part was anyone’s guess. All they knew was that the pure existence of her was beautiful. She was proof that they weren’t gone anymore. Maybe they never were.

The oldest of the boys took off his jacket and draped it around her. His hands brushed around her shoulders as they trembled to offer her warmth. The next oldest boy leaned down on the other side to check her pulse. He placed two fingers at the careful pocket behind her ear. The rest of them waited for him to nod, and in a second, he did. She was alive, just sleeping. All they had to do was wait for her to wake.

They waited all day and into the night. Many of the boys returned to their duties and lives. Dinner still had to be made, patrols still had to be marched, bathrooms cleaned, and beds turned down. They began to navigate around the girl, circling her in careful steps.

The more they watched her in her state of rest, the clearer their conclusion became. Yes, she was beautiful. She had a sweet round face, coils of movement in her hair, and a gleam to her complexion—even in her pallor. Her arms were small and docile, her feet outturned as they sat stuffed in socks and boots. They couldn’t help but watch her.

Although they were curious about her, the boys also kept a lane of distance. They didn’t want her to think they could be dangerous. Then there was also the possibility that she was dangerous herself. Instead of moving too close, they watched. Soon, she began to toss and turn, jolting with tiny electric pulses from within. Her shoulders and chest squiggled in her sleep, and even stranger, she began to murmur little sounds.

They weren’t words. Not speech. No question, no statement, no accusation to be found. They were innocent little sounds, like a sick animal might make. It checked out—they were all animals at the end of the day. That’s what humans are, this girl included.

As she shifted around, the locket on her neck made its way to her cheek on one side. It hung there, still locked closed, still containing the possibility of some secret of her origin. But all night long, none of the boys thought to open it, or even touch it. It wasn’t theirs to touch, and so they stayed away.

Though the boys all took great care around her, they couldn’t help but embrace the curiosity. This, yes, her. She could be the cure to this loneliness. They hung close to her, sat beside her, walked by just to check on her. Hours passed, and she continued to sleep. Soon, they couldn’t stay away.

The first of the boys to sit beside her was the smallest and youngest of them all. A few of the older boys put their hands up in front of him, trying to stop him from going any further, but he wouldn’t have it. The boy wasn’t even sure what he was doing, he just wanted to be by her side. He folded himself up and sat at the end of the bed they’d made her, where she’d stayed all the hours she’d been with them. He was careful not to touch her, and though his heart raced rapidly, he felt safe in her orbit. Give me love or give me death give me love or give me death give me love or give me death. The words in his head slowed, just the slightest bit of space passing between them.

The next boy to try it out was the tan, stocky boy with a thin frown. He didn’t touch her either. He listened to the sound of her breathing, the cool cycle of air passing through her body. There was something magical about it, about truly seeing breath in another person. Give me love or give me death give me love or give me death give me love or give me death give me love or give me death. The words became quieter—still there, but a whisper, no longer a shout.

All of the boys noticed it in her presence. As more and more of them sat with her, they each began to feel it. With every twitch of her shoulders, every muffled vocalization, the words in their heads changed, faded. Some of them wondered if she was some supernatural creature. Others mused that if a sleeping girl was all it took to cure their hunger, maybe they could speak on their own, change their world for the better on their own, quiet the shouting of their minds on their own. No, they resolved, that can’t be it.

As her hours of sleep dragged on, some of the boys became concerned. Maybe she would be like this forever. Maybe this was the fate of the only girl on earth. Could they live with the sorrow if she simply never woke?

Hour after hour, the boys clung to her side, the voices in their heads getting smaller and smaller. Give me— they whimpered, the chant falling off the side of their minds’ edges. They trusted her completely now. They were sure of it. She had to save them; she had no other choice.

As the evening blue cast over their faces, glowing on her skin as bright as a moon, she moved even more. She murmured, her jaw moving from side to side, her eyes crunching as if about to open. The locket fell to one side, then another as she tossed and turned. “Give me—” she sleep-talked. “Death—or—”

The boys turned to one another as they hovered over her, the corners of their eyes white and spacious, their once sour faces now ranging like expressive wilds. The girl shot up, her eyes bugged wide, her first breath sharp and clean. The boys hinged on their seats, waiting for her to speak.