by Kody Boye
“Go ahead and have a seat. This will only take a few moments.”
I seated myself and waited for the doctor to come forward as Xiomara closed the door. As she did, she scribbled a few notes on her clipboard before setting it on the table. “I’m going to perform the wellness exam your primary care doctor would normally do, if that would be all right with you.”
“That’s fine,” I said, then frowned. “What’s wrong with Doctor Orerra? Is she sick?”
“She’s out of the office for the day,” Doctor Helen Parish replied. “Besides—she doesn’t normally handle the Midnight Guard. Those are more my department.”
“I see.”
“Now then.” The doctor lifted the clipboard and set her pen to paper. “Do you have any health problems?”
“No,” I replied. “I don’t.”
“No asthma, no heart murmur, no difficulties breathing?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Have you ever had any broken bones or undergone any major surgeries?”
“No.”
“Are you able to see, breathe, smell, and hear well?”
“Yes.”
To confirm this, she checked my heartbeat, looked into my ears and the back of my throat, listened to the sound of my breathing, and tested my reflexes with a rubber mallet. I grimaced as she shined a pen light into my eyes, but nodded as she drew away. “Stand, please.”
I did, then allowed her to guide me through a series of exercises designed to test the extension of my muscles. She applied pressure to my shoulders to see if I would stand, pressed down on my hands to see if I could offer resistance, and gestured me to walk around the room at varying speeds. When I finally returned to her after my fifth lap, she nodded. “Unless there’s something you aren’t telling me, it appears as though you are in excellent physical health, Miss Berrios.”
“Thank you.” I watched as she finished scribbling several notes upon her clipboard. “I wasn’t expecting to see anyone for at least a few days.”
“We want to get people on the walls as soon as possible,” Doctor Helen Parish replied, turning her head up to look at me. “You’ll be seeing Doctor Riley, our chief psychiatrist, within a few hours.”
“Hours?” I asked.
The doctor nodded. “We try to get our new recruits into training as soon as possible. It’s not very often we get people who want to join the Guard.”
“How many of us are there?”
“Three, yourself included.”
Only three? I frowned. It was no wonder she’d gotten here so quickly. Given my last name, I had to have been on the top of her list. Still—it was a bit disconcerting to know that, out of nearly thirty graduating juveniles, only three of us had opted to register for the Guard.
What did that mean for our safety? Would the older generations continue to maintain their posts, regardless of the grueling hours and the social isolation? Or would we eventually be forced to acclimate to the fact that fewer people were willing to face the dangers beyond the walls?
With a nod, Doctor Parish gathered her clipboard and turned to make her way to the front door. “Thank you for your time, Miss Berrios. And remember: be honest with Doctor Riley. You may be in excellent physical health, but it’s your emotional state that will determine whether or not you’re fit for the Guard.”
“I understand,” I replied, then sighed as she walked outside.
Xiomara locked the door behind the doctor and turned to face me. “See? That wasn’t so bad, now was it?”
“I guess,” I said. “Now all I have to worry about is the hard part.”
“Like she said: just be honest and everything will be fine.” Xiomara paused. “I mean… it’s not like it’ll be the end of the world if you don’t get into the Guard, right?”
“I guess.” I sighed.
Though I had my plan B, and would more than willingly serve my time in the fields if it came down to that, my heart was drawn to the Guard, my purpose toward making people safe.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
I would be meeting the psychiatrist soon.
He would be the one to determine my fate.
“Tell me about the night it all happened,” Doctor Kevin Riley said.
“Where should I start?”
“At the beginning. Take however long you need. I understand that we’re dealing with sensitive and painful memories.”
“We were watching a movie when a presidential alert interrupted the broadcast to say alien contact had just been made.” I swallowed when I realized my mouth was dry and my throat constricted as if to keep me from speaking.
“This was before the abductions began to take place?”
“Before they began to be reported,” I replied, grimacing at the speed and veracity at which he wrote his notes. “I was scared, naturally. And so was my sister. But our father told us we didn’t have anything to worry about—that we should just ignore it and go on up to bed. That was when my mother screamed and we saw… it.”
“It?”
“The Coyote.”
“What did you do?”
“My father was the one who rushed forward and drew the blinds, but by that point it was already too late. It knew we were in the house, so it was only a matter of time before it broke in.”
“What happened next?”
“My father had the four of us turn all the lights off and hide beneath the dining room table. That was when it started jiggling the doorknob.”
“It was attempting to break entry,” the psychiatrist said.
“The worst thing was: it hadn’t realized the door wasn’t locked. My mother—she’d just gone outside for a cigarette break during the commercial, and when she came back in, she forgot to lock the door. We were so impatient. We just wanted her to sit down with us. We didn’t think it…”
The psychiatrist stopped writing to look at me.
I shivered, drew my feet up onto the dining room chair, and sighed. “I watched it try to open the door for at least three minutes,” I continued, almost breathless as he began to write once more. “I could see it from where I was under the table. I was petrified—afraid something would happen if I took my eyes off it. So I watched. And waited. And waited. And when it finally turned the doorknob, it started laughing.”
“Like They are prone to do.”
“Then it opened the door and came inside. By that point, there was nothing we could do, nowhere we could go, nowhere else we could hide. It’d already seen us. We were screwed. But my father—he thought he could lure it away, so he took off from under the table and went out the back door. The thing gave chase. A bright light filled the dining room after a trumpet sounded through the air. Then the house started shaking and we heard his screams.”
“Your father was Harvested,” Kevin Riley said, matter-of-factly, as if this was a statement he had heard time and time again.
“Yes sir. He was.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, his voice regaining a tinge of human emotion. “How did you, your mother, and your sister escape?”
“Mom fought our way out with a chair,” she said. “Broke it over the thing’s head before taking a leg and beating it until it fell to its knees. Then she grabbed the car keys, grabbed us girls, and dragged us outside.”
“You were in San Antonio when this happened, correct?”
“Yes.”
“And you fled to the local high school when you heard the radio broadcast in your mother’s car.”
“How do you—”
“I remember your sister’s story very clearly,” the doctor cut in, lifting a hand to silence me. “It was very terrifying, as is yours.”
“We only left the city when we realized the Harvesters and Coyotes weren’t going to leave. That was when the military arrived and transported us to Fort Hope.”
“Do you remember much else about that night?”
“Not… really,” I said, then paused, surprised that my fingernails had dug into the flesh of my palm
. When I unfurled my fist, harsh red indentations covered its surface.
The psychiatrist finished writing a few more notes, then stood.
“Sir?” I asked, standing, petrified at his sudden movements. “Are you—”
“I see no reason why you wouldn’t be able to serve in the Guard.” The man turned his eyes on me before pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “You obviously suffer from PTSD, as well as some generalized anxiety that may or may not specifically surround this event. But beyond that, you appear perfectly cognizant. You remained lucid, did not panic, did not dissociate during our interview like I’ve seen some patients do. If anything, you are merely a young girl that had something bad happen who wishes to contribute to society in a way you feel will honor your father’s passing. There’s nothing wrong with that in the slightest.”
“Thank you,” I said, expelling a breath.
“You’ll be expected to meet with the recruitment officer this evening. I would suggest you rest as much as possible before tonight.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“You’re very welcome.” He opened the front door. “And Ana?”
“Yes?” I asked, taking a few steps to escort him out.
“If at any point you feel you are unable to perform the duties requested, you need simply inform your commanding officer. They don’t want incapable people on their walls just as much as they don’t want unwilling ones.”
“I understand.”
“Good day to you then.”
I closed the door behind him, locked it, then trudged toward the bedroom.
When I opened the door, I was met by none other than Xiomara—whom, if I had to guess, had been listening the entire time.
“Xio?” I frowned. “What’re you—”
She wrapped her arms around me and bowed her head into my shoulder. She began crying soon after.
“What’s wrong?” I tried to push her away, but was unable to do so due to the grip she had on me.
“I’m just scared,” she said. “That’s all. I always knew this day would come.”
“I thought you wanted me to follow my heart?”
“I wanted you to do what you thought was right,” she replied. “I just never thought they’d say yes.”
I closed my eyes and wrapped my arms around my sister.
Her sobs filled the small space.
“The walls,” she said between sobs. “God, Ana Mia… some people go mad on them.”
“I know.” I tightened my hold on her body.
Maybe that was why I needed to be on them—to prove that I already wasn’t.
Chapter 3
I struggled to rest in the hours following my meeting with Kevin Riley. Unable to sleep for fear of missing my appointment with my soon-to-be commanding officer, I dwelled between the realms of consciousness—fading in, then out of sleep until the waning sunlight summoned me from my bed. I rose alongside Xiomara and dressed in the darkest clothes I owned before following her out of the room.
Our mother was already home. She sat at the dining room table smoking a cigarette and turned as we approached.
“Mama!” Xiomara said. “You know you’re not supposed to smoke in here!”
“My youngest is going to the walls,” she replied. “Sue me.”
Xiomara crossed her arms over her chest and frowned, but didn’t chastise her further. I simply leaned forward to wrap her in my arms as I felt a tear trickle onto my collarbone.
“Everything’s gonna be fine,” I said. “Don’t worry.”
“How can I not?”
I wasn’t sure how to respond. In place of words, I merely shook my head, kissed her cheek, then turned and started for the doorway with Xiomara.
“It’ll be dark soon,” my mother said, then paused to consider the words she’d spoken. “Please, be careful.”
“I will,” I replied. “Te amo, Mama.”
“Te amo,” she said.
“Te amo,” Xiomara added before opening the door and ushering me outside.
The oppressive sunlight shone upon the apartment complex like a vengeful god in the hours before it would destroy the world. Nearly impossible to see through and excruciating to even glance at, the two of us donned sunglasses. We made our way toward the armory—where Xiomara would arm and I would be allowed to observe for the duration of night’s watch. This was referred to as the ‘Observation Period,’ during which those who wished to join the Midnight Guard had one final night to reconsider before dedicating themselves to the most dangerous profession available.
“Hey,” Xiomara said, slinging an arm around my shoulder. “Everything’s going to be fine. Don’t worry.”
“I’m trying not to.” I shrugged away from her and slid my hands into my pockets. “I’m just nervous is all.”
“I was nervous my first night too.”
“Is it hard?”
“Normally? No. Sometimes? It can be. I just hope your first night isn’t as difficult as some people’s are. It scares them off the Guard—and living, sometimes.”
Suicide wasn’t uncommon. Though it wasn’t often discussed, it was hard to ignore when one of our own happened to smuggle enough pills to take their own life, or slit their wrists with knives in order to end what they considered to be their worthless existence. This was why the Observation Period existed—to allow one final chance to walk away before committing to the final plunge.
As we walked toward the building that held the armaments that kept our community safe, I wondered, for one brief moment, if I would end up like one of those poor people—if, by chance, I would see something so horrible, so monstrous upon the walls, that I could not go on living anymore.
I shook my head.
No.
I couldn’t think like that, not with my sister and mother both depending on and wishing me well.
Regardless of what happened, and regardless of what I happened to see, I could not succumb to the wicked desires of a tormented brain. It wasn’t just my family that needed me—it was my community.
Once we arrived at the armory’s front door, Xiomara knocked, waited a moment, then opened it for the pair of us entered.
“Berrios,” a very-intimidating black man said, raising his eyes as he passed another Guardsman his rifle.
“Sir,” Xiomara replied.
“I was wondering when we’d see you and your sister.”
“Ana Mia Sofia Berrios will be accompanying me for observation sir,” Xiomara said, enunciating the word as she straightened her posture. I followed suit and gave a slight nod, then salute when I caught my sister doing it out of the corner of my eye.
“Good.” The man smiled as he approached with her weapon and bandolier filled with ammunition. “You learn fast, Berrios.”
“Yes sir,” I said.
“My name is Captain Frank Henshaw. You will refer to me as ‘Captain Henshaw’ or ‘sir,’ however.” He gestured to my sister with a nod as she slipped into her body armor. “You’ll do well to listen to everything Xiomara tells you. But before you leave, I want you to be aware of something. Listening?”
I nodded.
“Under no circumstance are you to speak unless absolutely necessary come time night falls. If you feel the need to scream, you leave the walls as silently as possible. If you need to be relieved of your post momentarily to use the facilities, you sign to your partner like this.” He performed a simple series of movements that involved his hand and fingers, then waited for me to copy them before continuing. “Normally I would address you new recruits all at once, but since there’s so few of you—” He sighed and shook his head. “Ana Mia,” he said.
“Yes sir?” I asked.
He pushed a chest piece and helmet under the protective mesh. “These are yours,” he said. “Make sure they’re attached securely. If anything happens, they’re the only thing between you and a death sentence.”
With a nod, I shrugged the chest piece over my shoulders, aligned the straps through their loops, an
d secured them in place before sliding the helmet over my head.
I grimaced.
Xiomara was right. I’d have to trim my hair—or completely shave it—for the helmet to be even somewhat comfortable.
“Good luck, Berrios,” the man said as the two of us turned and left the armory.
Outside, I took in a breath of cool evening air and tried my hardest not to let my emotions show, but to no avail.
“You okay?” Xiomara asked.
“Yeah,” I said, sniffling, then wiping my running nose along the back of my hand. “Let’s go.”
She led me from the armory to the northern side of the complex. There, a wrought-iron fence stood, along with a series of standing platforms where the Midnight Guard could keep watch. Built crudely from wood and reinforced by concrete, it spanned one apartment building to another, shielded by a rubber mesh both inside and out to further obscure the inhabitants within.
“So this is it.” I looked upon the simple structure, which would do little to keep anything truly determined out of the compound.
“This is it.”
I nodded and waited for her to approach before starting after her.
Once on the platform, she gestured for me to seat myself on a wooden chair and checked to ensure her weapon was engaged, shooting a glance toward me before turning to look at me. “Remember,” she said as she looked toward the setting sun. “Be as quiet as possible. It’s the only thing separating you from life and death.”
“I understand,” I replied.
Approaching footsteps caused me to turn. A tall man strode toward us, trailed by none other than Asha Dawson. “Asha,” I said.
She acknowledged me with a nod and a smile, then came forward and wrapped me in a hug as I stood.
“You ready for tonight?” she asked, her eyes betraying her true emotions.
“As ready as I can be.”
We embraced once more before she joined her Midnight Guard companion. I retreated to my sister’s side and settled in the chair, unsure what to say, or do, once I was bound to silence.
Rather than say anything, I simply stared out at the opposite street and waited for night to fall.
It happened slowly, with the sun gradually setting, the light dimming, the darkness encroaching upon the world like a creeping monster making its way from the most treacherous depths. When it finally descended upon us, I pulled in a breath—realizing it was the first time I had been outside after dark in years.