Dystopia

by Janet McNulty

“Sanders,” said Dana approaching her friend, “may I have a word?”

  “Yeah,” replied Sanders, readjusting his glasses.

  Dana pulled him to the side, away from prying eyes and overcurious ears. “I need a favor.”

  “What do you need?”

  Dana covered the camera on her shirt with her hand, hoping that it would muffle what was said, if not eliminate it all together. “Do you know how the computers at the media center work?”

  “Dana, where is this going?”

  “Please, Sanders,” pleaded Dana. “I need to know.”

  Sanders pulled her even further away from anyone who might be listening. “I get the feeling you are planning to do something stupid, if not dangerous.”

  “I have to. My par—” Dana stopped herself before she revealed anything more. “Lives depend on this. The media center.”

  Sanders leaned close. “The computers at the media center are locked with some sort of algorithm. They have firewall after firewall to keep anyone from hacking into the system. But it’s not impenetrable.”

  Dana squeezed the button-sized camera even tighter, ignoring the discomfort of it digging into her skin.

  “I can develop a program that will hack their system and put it on a disk for you.”

  “Will you?” Dana’s relief came through in her voice.

  “Dana, what is going on?” pushed Sanders.

  “I can’t tell you,” the trepidation in her voice betrayed her.

  “Dana.” Sanders grabbed her arm, forcing her hand away from the concealed camera.

  Instantly, Dana clasped her other hand around the camera, hoping that whoever watched didn’t see Sanders’ face or hear their conversation. She did not want to get him arrested.

  “Please. Sanders, don’t ask any questions. You can’t help me.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Sanders.

  “Just get me the decryption program by Wednesday. And don’t ask why. It’s better if you don’t know.”

  Dana started to walk away. Sanders caught her arm. “I’ll do it because you asked me to, but I can’t help feeling that you’re about to do something incredibly stupid.”

  “I don’t have much choice.”

  Dana ran off before her emotions and guilt betrayed her. She raced to the locker room and locked herself inside. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she breathed. Why, she asked herself, why must I be in this position?

  Procuring the uniforms was not as difficult as Dana had first thought. She and George had worked out the plan. With the help of Elsie, he would cause a distraction, while Dana snuck into the storage area with the uniforms.

  Dana stood near the edge of the group on Outside Detail. She, George, and Elsie had managed to get on it for the same shift. Workers moved around, picking up bits of trash that blew off the trucks as they came in.

  Dana spotted George. He nodded at her. That’s the signal. Dana moved away from the group as they walked past the parked dump trucks.

  George and Elsie approached one of the trucks. He hopped into the driver’s seat and removed the brake. At the same instant, Elsie opened the hood and tossed in a homemade incendiary device. Quickly, they jumped away and blended in with the group.

  The truck rolled down the hill, picking up speed as it went. Dana watched as it headed for a guard tower.

  BOOM!

  The explosion echoed all around them, reverberating off the buildings and surrounding hills. The force of the explosion knocked many off their feet. Debris flew everywhere, pelting officers and workers.

  Dana took a quick glance at the half-gone tower. Not wasting any more time, she ran off. Slipping past the buildings and other officers unnoticed, Dana made her way to the storage building. Shouts and yells rose behind her as officers rounded people up and formed a line. Others headed for the smoldering remains of the truck. Dana ignored it all.

  She found the building. Locked. She pulled out a pin and shoved it into the lock, moving it around until a familiar click registered. Hurriedly, Dana went inside. She glanced around at the various sections and what they held.

  “Uniforms,” she said to herself.

  Dana perused the rows of items that the government did not trust them to recycle. She darted from section to section. Growing frustrated, Dana quickened her movements. She didn’t have much time.

  “There,” she said to herself when she spotted the media uniforms.

  Dana ran to them, but they were behind a chicken wire gate. Angered by this, she pulled out her pin and picked the lock. She rifled through them, looking for ones that were in good condition.

  Officers walked by outside. Knowing her time grew short, Dana grabbed five uniforms, hoping that they were the right sizes. Clutching them, she replaced the lock on the gate and ran out the door.

  Mad Dog stood there. Surprised, Dana stopped.

  “Hurry up,” said Mad Dog.

  “How—”

  “I saw you run. Now come on.”

  He pushed a cart to her. Dana plopped the uniforms in it, and together, they covered them with a tarp.

  “Now go,” said Mad Dog. “I’ll take care of these.”

  Having little choice, Dana thanked Mad Dog and ran back to the burning truck, hoping she hadn’t been tricked. She paused by the side of a building when she noticed the line of workers. Officer Burroughs read off the list of names.

  Dana scanned the area. She needed to get in line before he reached her. She spotted Elsie. They locked eyes for a moment before Elsie waved her over. Glancing at the officers, Dana seized her chance and darted for the line. She slipped in beside Elsie just as Officer Burroughs called her name.

  “Dana Ginary,” called Officer Burroughs.

  “Here,” said Dana, trying to control her breathing.

  “Did you witness what happened?”

  “No.”

  “Where were you when the truck exploded?” asked Officer Burroughs.

  “Over there,” said Dana, pointing to a spot.

  Officer Burroughs eyed her suspiciously. “You seem out of breath.”

  “The excitement, sir.”

  “Sir,” said another officer, walking up with the incendiary device. “This was in the engine.”

  Officer Burroughs took it, examining it carefully. “Who is responsible for this?” He held up the device.

  No one spoke.

  “I repeat, who is responsible for this?” Angered at the lack of response, Officer Burroughs paced before them. He pointed at various people, demanding if they knew anything. Each shook their heads.

  Fuming, Officer Burroughs handed the device to one of his officers. “Since no one feels talkative, you will all remain out here until the one responsible comes forward.”

  Another man approached Officer Burroughs. Dana recognized him instantly as Colonel Fernau. He whispered into Officer Burroughs’ ear for a minute.

  “Everyone dismissed,” barked Officer Burroughs when Colonel Fernau had finished speaking. “Get that truck out of here.” He pointed at the burning dump truck as he marched away.

  “What was that all about?” asked Elsie.

  “Don’t know,” Dana lied. She turned and saw Colonel Fernau staring right at her, his gaze unnerving her. “Come on.”

  Dana steered Elsie away from the commotion, desperate to get away from the man.

  Dana strolled through Shackville, relieved to be away from the confines of the plant and its ever watchful eyes. She hadn’t visited Jesse in a long while and wished to see her. Trails of a breeze brushed her long, dark hair. A small group of children played with a ball. Admiring them, Dana wished she were that age again, an age where worry hadn’t crossed paths with her.

  One of the kids dropped the grungy ball. It rolled across the dirt and bumped against Dana’s foot. She picked it up and tossed it to the waiting arms of the boy that had run after it. Sighing, she continued on.

  The planned raid on the media center quickly approached. Dana wished she didn’t have to go throug
h with it. Thoughts of her parents locked away filled her mind. Swallowing back tears, she pushed open the door to Jesse’s and let herself in.

  “Good evening, dear,” greeted Nana.

  “Hello, Nana.” Dana stomped the dirt from her boots.

  “Dana!”

  A squirt of red raced through the room, plowing into Dana. The two hugged each other for a long moment.

  “Do your fish face,” Jesse pleaded.

  Dana knelt down on one knee to make herself level with Jesse. She sucked in her cheeks, narrowing her lips into a thin, vertical line. Squeals of laughter escaped Jesse. The girl’s innocence and delight lifted Dana’s spirits momentarily.

  “Jesse,” said Nana, “aren’t you forgetting something.”

  Jesse’s face scrunched up a bit as she thought about what she had forgotten. “Oh!”

  Instantly, Jesse forced Dana into a chair. She rushed to the kitchen, and clamoring and clanking followed her. Like a whirlwind, the girl came back with a plate of dry toast and a glass of water.

  “Here you go,” said Jesse. “Eat and drink this.”

  Dana picked at the charred toast.

  Laughing, Nana spoke. “Dear, you don’t order them to eat. You just offer it to them.”

  “Oh,” said Jesse. She snatched the toast from Dana’s hand and held it out to her. “Would you like some toast? Here.” Jesse plopped it back into Dana’s lap.

  “I’m trying to teach her hospitality,” said Nana. “She hasn’t quite gotten the hang of it. You don’t need to eat it if you don’t want to.”

  “It’s fine.” Dana nibbled on the toast. It tasted awful, but for Jesse’s sake, she pretended to enjoy it. “The best toast I’ve ever had.”

  Jesse beamed with pride.

  “How are things at the plant?” asked Nana.

  “The same,” said Dana. She put her plate down. “There haven’t been any recent deaths.”

  “Good to hear.”

  Dana looked around the room. So much rested on her mind, pushing against her voice box to get out. She bit her tongue to keep silent.

  “What is it, dear?” asked Nana.

  “Nothing,” muttered Dana. “Nana, have you ever had to do something you didn’t want to? What I mean is, was there ever a time when you knew something was wrong, yet you did it to try and save someone you care about?”

  “There are times when we all are forced to do things we don’t want.”

  “Yes, but what if it goes beyond that?” Dana squeezed her hands together until they turned white. Her fidgeting did not go unnoticed.

  “What is it, Dana?” Concern filled Nana’s face.

  “It’s just—I—” Remembering the camera, Dana clammed up. “It’s nothing. Forget I said anything.”

  Nana noticed Dana fiddling with the top button on her shirt. Her brows furrowed. “I don’t know what’s troubling you, but don’t let it rob you of your soul.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Dana.

  “We have a choice, Dana. When we are asked to do something, we have to decide if it is worth the price.”

  Dana’s confused look told Nana that she did not understand. “I know it doesn’t make sense right now, but someday it will.”

  “But what if no matter what you choose, someone gets hurt? What if there is no way to win?” asked Dana.

  “You must make the right choice,” said Nana.

  “What if people die?”

  “Dying doesn’t mean that you’ve lost.”

  Dana glanced at Jesse, who had listened intently to their conversation. She wondered how much of it the girl understood. Jesse moved from her seat and nestled in Dana’s lap, telling her that she understood more than people realized. Dana wrapped her arms around the child.

  “You’re lucky, you know,” said Dana. “You two have each other.”

  The unspoken sentiment that even that would not last forever passed between them. No need in voicing what they already knew.

  Chapter Eighteen