“2-8-7-5.” My brow furrowed. There was something familiar about those numbers, but I couldn’t place it. Oh well, no time to think of it now. I’d ask Casey when I got back. There was a lot I was going to ask Casey, actually.
The Bears house was neat, but not as neat as the Toads. It was easy to walk through. There was a teal, knitted blanket folded across the top of the white couch. It made it more inviting. I risked sitting on it. Oooh. I’d never felt so comfortable. It was like sinking into a hug.
I heard Casey saying something in the earpiece, but a decoration on the wall caught my eye. It was a wooden bear painted the same teal as the blanket. “The Bears” was written on it in white, though not written well. It must have been done by a child.
I stared and stared at the bear. I knew I was wasting time, but I couldn’t look away. I got up to get a closer look and caught a whiff of vanilla and honey. That’s what my home had always smelled like. It was so comforting. It reminded me of my mom making cookies…
I nearly tripped over the coffee table. I had memories?
“Casey,” I said, breathless. I walked over to the bear on the wall. I reached out and felt the smooth paint. “I made this.” I closed my eyes. I could picture it all so clearly. “My dad had just shown me how to use a saw and we cut it together. I wanted to paint it my mom’s favorite color. He had me add on ‘The Bears’ so we could call it a decoration.” I opened my eyes, but my vision was blurred with tears. “This is my family.”
“It’s you.” A woman’s voice came from the stairs. I spun around grabbing my gun, blinking away the tears.
“Get out! Get out! Get out!” I could hear everyone screaming over the earpieces, but the woman was staring at me, unarmed, and crying. I dared looking longer. Her hair was the same gold as mine. Her eyes were the same blue. It was almost like looking in the mirror, except for the age. She was old enough to be…my mother. I lowered my gun.
“They kept telling me I was crazy,” she sputtered, coming closer. “They told me everyone only ever had one baby. But I knew I had a daughter. I love my son, but I knew. I knew I had you.” She was standing in front of me now. There was a constant buzz in the earpiece. “Can I hug you?” she sobbed. I nodded.
She put her arms around me and hugged me tighter than even Lacey had before I left. I breathed in her vanilla scent. It was overwhelming. I closed my eyes and hugged her back. I felt the tension leave my shoulders and as soon as it did, all my memories were back. Waves of emotion rolled over me.
“Mom,” I cried, finally wrapping my arms around her. She was real. She was here. I was holding her. She wasn’t destroyed. “Are Dad and Dylan here, too?” She was still sobbing and hugging me but nodded her head. “You’re all safe?” She nodded again, not able to form words. My heart was exploding. I would never let anything happen to them again.
“They sent me away because I was the second child.” The memories were all coming together. “They did a reform and altered everyone’s memories. I don’t know how they all just came back but we must find a box. It’s hidden here somewhere. That’s why I’m here.” She finally let go still nodding her head.
“Everything makes so much sense. I think our connection brought my memories back,” she said, making her way over to the couch. “All they let me do here is clean. There’s a hexagon seal over here that drives me crazy. All the dust and dirt get stuck there and won’t come off.”
She shoved the couch a foot to the right and revealed the hexagon. There were all kinds of whoops and hollers in the earpiece.
“How do we get it out?” I asked, hoping either my mom or Casey knew.
“You don’t.” I whirled around and found myself staring down the barrel of a gun.
“Honey, no. This is Julia. This is our daughter. I told you I wasn’t crazy.” My mom walked over to the man wearing the Guardian uniform. She put a hand on his arm. I took a step back and looked at the Guardian’s face.
“Dad,” I almost started crying again, but he didn’t lower his gun. “Dad, it’s me.”
“I don’t have a daughter,” he said. He’d schooled his face so it showed no emotion, but the bitterness was radiating off him.
“Yes, we do!” my mother insisted. “She’s here. She’s here and we can be a whole family again. The Colony owns us because you sold her. They offered us food and shelter and a job if we moved with just one child. They promised you that they would take care of her, but they just put her in the Chew.” She was crying and pulling at his sleeve. Sold? “But this is it. We can get away. We just have to get this box--"
BAM!
The sound of the gunshot reverberated through my skull. But nothing hurt. I felt down my body, but there was no sign of injury.
“Goldie! Goldie! Are you okay?” the shouts through the earpieces were getting louder. I looked up to see my dad—no, that man would never be my dad—holding the gun over my mom. She was on the floor, eyes and mouth still open, blood streaming down her face through the hole in her forehead.
I stumbled back and fell on the couch.
“Goldie, get out now!” Casey was screaming through the earpiece.
“How could you?” I tried to sound angry, but I only sounded as broken as my heart. “She was everything.” I shook my head. How could so much have gone so wrong in such a small amount of time? Now my family truly was destroyed. I needed to get out. I started to stand and heard the familiar cock of the gun.
I stood tall and took a steadying breath.
“If something happens,” I started, looking at my dad but speaking to my Chew family. “Just know that I loved you all. So very much.”
My earpiece fell silent. My dad scrutinized me, but I could tell he was still looking at a stranger. Even if he had sold me to the government, we could’ve gotten past it.
“Just tell me why,” I said, putting both of my hands in the air. We both knew I wasn’t getting out of this alive.
He shrugged. “You know too much.”
Emily VanOverloop is a nurse turned homeschool teacher that has always loved writing—almost as much as she loves reading. Her favorite genre to read and write is fantasy but she also loves the mind-bending realities founded in dystopian societies. When not reading or writing, she is attempting to wrangle three children and a husband in West Chester, Ohio.
https://www.emilyvanoverloop.com/
Atlas: The Tale of Hanna and Greta
By A.K. Harris
Our history books told us after The Great Fall in 2030, the earth was ravaged with disease and famine. Citizens were disarmed systematically until weapons were scarce and most people simply gave up, gave in, and became extinct. Some saw it coming, most did not.
Those that remained banded together under the rule of The Great Master and worked to build up the city of Atlas. Strict protocol was enforced to ensure a quality life for the perfect citizens, but even Atlas faced consequences from those who wished to do it harm. At the end of the year 2146, the walls of Atlas were permanently closed to shut out The Beyond.
We had names, of course, but The Elders referred to us only using our assigned numbers. I am 2147-1. Each generation was assigned a number corresponding with their birth year. 2147s were the first to be born inside the walls of Atlas. In the hierarchy that is high school, First Gen’s were the alphas. Our elite social status solidified solely based on the fact we were the first. We were also on the verge of our Ranking Ceremony; the mere thought sent shivers of trepidation through my body.
“Hanna, wait up,” Greta said while hurrying toward me.
Greta was my best friend even though it was discouraged to form tight bonds with other girls. She lived in my pod under the sure tyranny of our house mother, Madam Hunt. Greta was a sprite of a girl with dainty features, but what she lacked in size, she doubled up for in personality. She was rather plain looking, although her sunset locks were the envy of the whole pod. The color starkly contrasted to my own raven waves. We could not be more unalike, her light to my dark, my serious na
ture to her fancifulness. In spite of our contrasts, or maybe because of them, we were inseparable, and she was my only friend.
Whether the Elders approved or not, friendships were formed within the female population. The boys, on the other hand, were encouraged to gather, do sporty type things, and generally congratulate one another on their testicular fortitude. I glanced back over my shoulder at my joyful companion waiting for the unavoidable interrogation.
“So, Madam President, I am dying to know why I was told that Master Heston was spotted taking a stroll with a student last night. Honestly, Hanna, how could you not tell me?” Her brow was furrowed in an exaggerated fashion, reminding me of the dramatics capable when Greta did not get the scoop from the source, mainly me.
“Please stop calling me that. There is nothing to tell. Heston walked me back to the pod and that was it,” I said flippantly, a little annoyed that she had not yet abandoned that silly pet name. She used it whenever possible as a jab at my status of being firstborn inside the walls and my all-business character.
“Heavy is the head that bears the crown.” She giggled and I rolled my emerald eyes so hard they should have stuck to the back of my skull.
It was quite commonplace for the older men to court the last-year girls, although I would not categorize Master Heston as old. He is a 2138. Aging him at twenty-five to my eighteen. Heston was a pleasant man as men go, meeker and more sweet-tempered than the laborers. It was an honor really to be pursued by an academic, or that is what I kept telling myself. It didn’t matter what I thought anyway, I would be chosen or I would not. The women have no say in the matter. It is rumored that The Great Master chooses a wife from the last-year girls, although no one ever sees his wife or wives, whatever the case may be. Then he discards them into The Beyond when he is through with them, throwing them away like yesterday’s trash. I definitely do not want to draw that proverbial straw and think it may be suitable to be Heston’s wife.
There is no such thing as the love I have read about in the forbidden books, books that have found their way to us from a different time and remain hidden in plain sight within the walls of The Great Library. What it would have been like to fall in love with whomever you wanted, to become whatever you wanted; a writer, an actress, or even a doctor. The Great Before sounds like a wonderfully free place.
“You need to get your head out of the clouds. It would be an arrangement, nothing more. It can’t be anything more,” I said although I did not want to believe it.
“I am just saying that he is not the worst man to look at and, who knows, maybe we can learn to love our partners, I have heard of it. Look at Mr. and Mrs. Smidt, they are always grossly over-affectionate. They seem quite happy.”
She was right though, theoretically, it could happen. She was also correct in her appraisal that Heston was actually quite stunning with his inky curls and lanky limbs. I could fall for him, theoretically, of course.
For the time being, I had to concentrate on final exams of every nature, not theorize about Heston and his long fingers that fit perfectly into my own as I discovered on our stroll last night.
“Rianne told me Master Heston’s first wife died in childbirth along with the child. He was so devastated that he went into The Great Beyond for a whole year before coming back. Any man that is capable of that much remorse has to be capable of love, I say,” Greta remarked.
“Well, first of all, stop listening to Rianne. She is a pot-stirring gossip and likely to be cast out on that merit alone. You would be wise to stay away from her if you value a warm bed and food in your belly,” I balked back even though I knew there was a speck of truth within the speculations just from looking into Heston’s eyes.
When you really looked at him close-up, a perceptive person could see the feelings just below the surface of his hazel orbs. I could see pain and possibility, mixed together in a peculiar dance for dominance. He had experienced life, its hardships, its triumphs and he had seen firsthand The Beyond. Surely, if anyone was capable of love it would be him.
“I will see you tonight, Greta, I have reproductive testing today, so I won’t be back to the pod until after meal service,” I said as I turned toward the medical building that I would be spending a great deal of time in over the next few months as part of final exams.
Greta pulled me in for a brief hug after checking that no one would see. I could detect the anxiety from the force alone without having to look up and see she did, indeed have tears in her pale green eyes. She would be undergoing the same trials and tests.
I tried to look neutral as if all this was just an everyday check-up. Although it is routine and normal for us, it still feels ominous. We don’t ever know the results until Ceremonies. If you are deemed unable or unworthy to bear children then you are cast out or sent to work the gardens and forbidden to socialize or marry. The girls speculate that The Undesirables are forced into sexual servitude, although I can’t find a difference between that and being obliged into marriage to serve your husband and bear children as your near only function. Regardless, it has to be better than The Beyond.
***
After thrashing about all night, I felt disconnected the following day as I sat for what would be a butt-numbing four-hour lecture on the dangers of The Beyond.
“The Beyond is to be feared. I know this, I have been out there,” Master Heston began.
There was an audible collective intake of breath from the student body. I glanced at the blonde boy next to me, 2147-5, who looked as if his eyes may dislodge from their sockets and plop monstrously onto his desk. This was the lecture we all were looking forward to, as last-years we were promised some truths as we were on the precipice of being deemed adults.
Master Heston continued, speaking of a tribe right outside the walls, cannibals scarred and deformed from battle and led by a monarch. He referred to her as The Queen of the Lost. Although he had never personally encountered her, he made no hesitations in his assessment that she was as cunning as she was lethal. Disbelief danced in my ears at hearing this, cannibals, but more than that. This leader was a woman. Women do not lead. The lecture dragged on into hour four as Master Heston told of surviving ultimately by turning back to Atlas and the walls that seem so much like a prison to me.
“A word, 2047-1,” Master Heston called out as we dismissed.
The rest of the students with their knowing faces filtered out of the lecture hall leaving us alone. Heston allowed his hand to graze my cheek before settling on my shoulder. A staggering, yet not unwelcome, heat found my cheeks and flushed them a healthy rose.
“I just wanted you to know that I will be stepping forward to claim you at the Ranking Ceremonies and that you have nothing to fear. You have been deemed A Perfect, although I had no doubts. You cannot tell anyone that I have shared this, Hanna, it is imperative. I could be cast out for even encouraging you.” He was saying the right words, yet his eyes deceived him. There was a depth of pain that I did not understand.
***
Over the course of the last months leading to the Ranking Ceremony, Heston and I had spent many nights walking the grounds. We spoke of our relentless obligations to Atlas, of our hopes for the future, and our fears. He fortified my ambitions to be more than his subservient wife and ensured me that within the four walls of our home I was free to speak and conduct myself as his equal. Our relationship began to resemble what I thought love to be from my limited knowledge of the subject.
The night before the Ceremonies most of the girls in our pod were fast asleep, content that they would be chosen and have a peaceful existence. However, Greta was fretting her hair into balls around her fingers, a nervous tell she had always had. I was also restless even with the knowledge I had. We decided to take a walk. It was encouraged for us to stay physically fit so no one stopped us as we strolled.
We kept walking silently toward The Great Wall. It was further than we had ever ventured before and certainly well outside the free zone last-years were allowed to explore. It
grew darker and more foreboding as we approached. Standing in the shadows of the wall, we seemed so small, so microscopic, so finite as we craned our necks up at the monstrous architecture. It had to stand fifty feet tall. One could not scale the wall as the ego impressed boys had thought. At the very top, curls of wire caught the moonlight and glinted off what appeared to be barbs. Sounds from the outside filtered through, I thought I heard human voices. I walked along the wall running my hand over the cool stone. Greta followed. We were nearing the farthest edge of the complex when Greta screamed.
“My leg, my leg is in a hole,” she rasped out through tears.
Assessing the situation in the fragile light was difficult, but she had indeed toppled into a hole. Not just a hole, a tunnel. The tunnel stretched under The Great Wall. It was filled with loose rock, for cover presumably. My mind stored this information if I would ever need it. There was a way out, but what was out there was indubitably more dreadful than what was in here.
Once Upon A Dystopia: An Anthology of Twisted Fairy Tales and Fractured Folklore Page 17