The War Outside

by Kody Boye

  “You know,” Daniel says, dragging his words out to draw my attention.

  I turn to face him. “Know… what?” I ask.

  “I could tell you all about it. What brought it on. How it started. Why it’s still going on. We learn all about it in school; and though I don’t claim to know all the answers, I could give you a pretty decent picture of it all.”

  “You’d do that?” I ask.

  Daniel nods. “You should’ve asked me to begin with.”

  “I just… I didn’t… don’t, really… think—”

  He waits for me to continue, arms slack, hands at his sides. His eyes center directly on me, and for one brief moment, I am lost within the storms inside, which seem to be parting for clarity that I could’ve only begun to imagine.

  “Kel?” he asks, stepping forward. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine,” I say, then turn back toward the bookshelf.

  Now that my intentions are out in the open, all my questions are beginning to bubble to the surface.

  Who? What? When? Why? How?

  I can no longer bask in my own ignorance.

  Before, my mother had shielded me; while my father, the brave man that he is, disregarded my questions. He’d always said that girls didn’t need to worry about war—because, as he’d put it, we had better uses elsewhere. Now, in the thick of it all, I realize how wrong that sentiment is.

  With a nod, I turn to face Daniel, and say, “Okay.”

  “Okay?” he asks.

  “Tell me about the war.”

  Sighing, Daniel settles down beside me, wraps his hands around the rough fabric of his pants, and allows his eyes to fall before saying, “It all started with The Change.”

  “The Change?” I ask.

  “Climate change,” he says.

  It is a phrase I have not heard often throughout my life. Having grown up within, and only known, the Great South’s sweltering heat, I have only heard the phrase passed between the mouths of those much older than me.

  “Explain,” I say.

  “When the president of the United States denounced the affects of climate change as little more than propaganda from the opposing party, there was little that could be done to stop what would follow. Before modern energy—before our solar fields and rain collectors—factories were allowed to dump waste into rivers and lakes, energy reactors pumped chemicals into the atmosphere, and refineries meant to fuel our vehicles and power our homes drained the soil of its natural resources, and tainted everything around it. It’s hard to believe that we used to pull sludge out of the ground to power and sustain our vehicles, but that’s what we did.

  “It’s… hard to explain what happened afterward. It didn’t happen quickly, but the results of his actions became clear in the years to come. A place called Antarctica, which was covered in ice, started to melt; the seas rose, swallowing up coastal cities; terrible storms came in, killing thousands of people. The population of the United States began to move inward, and that’s what historians say helped start the war.”

  Daniel clenches his fist as he looks down at the floor, obviously struggling with what to say next. “The people that came from along the coasts,” he continues, “struggled to find homes. They fought with those who lived in the center of the country, became bitter as a result, even became violent. There was nowhere for them to go, and only one person to lay blame on.”

  “The president,” I say.

  “He was not like Aa’eesha Dane. Some called him The Mad King. Others worshiped him as something he was not. A choice few considered him a great messiah, and perhaps that was the reason he was allowed to stay in power.

  “Anyhow… I’m trying to get to my point here. Because of the climate change, and the deregulation of crucial acts that protected our environment, people started to starve. They lined up in the streets, begging our corrupt government for food. But how can you feed millions of people when there is no food?”

  “You can’t,” I say.

  “Exactly,” Daniel replies. “So… naturally… they died. And then they started to fight.

  “It started with minor squabbles—murders in the street, attacks on embassies, assassinations of political figures. One side wanted things to change, and for the president to answer for the errors his reign had created. Another side—this other side—didn’t think anything was wrong. But people were dying, and it was all because of a few men and women’s actions.”

  “They changed the world,” I say.

  “For the worse,” Daniel replies. “The revolution started twenty-five years ago. The president stood at a rally, attempting to rile his supporters, claiming that he would solve all their problems. His supporters believed him, even after all the things he had helped put into place. But others… well… didn’t.

  “On that day, someone from a faraway building shot and killed the man who was our president. It was considered a political assassination—and to the president’s believers: an act of civil war.”

  “Who commanded this assassination?” I ask.

  “A woman by the name of Aa’eesha Dane.”

  I blink, stunned.

  Daniel smirks, obviously amused. “I… won’t comment on her participation in the war, but I will say that she was attempting to make things better for us. But by that point, any bullet fired would’ve caused a revolution, so it was only a matter of time before one person’s actions would start a wildfire.

  “Anyway… the people who believed Aa’eesha Dane’s promise for a better world fled to the Great South, while those opposing her divided themselves along the Terrible North. She believed technology, and eugenics—”

  “Eugenics?” I frown.

  “—the act of making the population better through selected breedings, would save our world. She considers those of the North weak and arrogant, foolhardy and crazed. She believes us better. I don’t know if I believe that or not, because I think there are fools on both sides of the fence, but it doesn’t matter, because her foes considered her a national threat, and as such, formed an army in opposition of her.”

  “But if there’s places beyond our country,” I reply, “then why didn’t the people there try and help us?”

  “Because the president Aa’eesha Dane assassinated believed they were wrong. They tried to sway him to make things better—to make things right—but regardless, that didn’t happen. He closed our borders, shut us off from the rest of the world, and those outside were left to watch as we tore ourselves apart.”

  “And the breeding,” I say, “the Beautiful and Handsome Ones—”

  “Are meant to be our future. We are not only the most physically attractive of the population—we are the strongest, most intelligent, and most practical means for a better tomorrow.”

  “And you agree with this?” I ask.

  “I can’t refuse it, Kel. It’s… just the way it is. At least here women are treated fairly. Up there, in the North…” He shudders. “I don’t even want to begin to tell you how women are treated.”

  “My mother said that a Northern girl would never rebel.”

  “Because they kill women who think contrary.”

  I pale. “What?”

  “The man who leads the Terrible North against us feels that women are beneath men—that they are weaker, less intelligent, less useful.”

  “Then why would anyone live there? Why wouldn’t the women come here? To the South? Where they are valued and given places everywhere in our world?”

  “Because some people are blinded by their beliefs,” Daniel replies. “So… in hindsight: it was famine, division, and two people who thought differently who started the war. We can thank the Great God that the W.O.M.Ds were never used.”

  “W.O.M.Ds?” I ask.

  “Weapons of Mass Destruction.”

  “Which are—”

  “Bombs that can destroy entire cities. Gasses that can wipe out a whole population. Viruses that can leave us writhing in pain. They’re… torturous, re
gardless of however you view them, but both the North and the South are said to each have one.”

  “That’s terrifying to think about,” I say.

  “Exactly,” Daniel replies. He turns his head to look at the threshold through which the door stands and sighs. “Do you see why I don’t want you to get involved in the war now?”

  “You don’t think the world would be a better place if the South won?”

  “The world would be a different place. Whether or not it would be better is up for individual interpretation.”

  “But the women—”

  “Are treated like dirt.”

  “And our world—”

  “Was supposedly altered by the North. Yeah. I know. But who’s to say it’ll change if one of us wins?”

  “I—” I start. “I don’t—”

  But I can’t bring myself to speak.

  I am not an educated woman. Unlike Daniel, who knows maths and histories and everything in-between, I was taught only the basics—how to read, how to write, how to add and subtract simple numbers. I barely even know how to sew, considering that my mother was always afraid I’d stab myself with needles. But even now, hearing the struggles that the women of the North go through, I can’t help but wonder if my life in the Sandstone Hills wasn’t that bad after all.

  No.

  I shake my head.

  Back there—back home—there was always a chance that something could go wrong, that you could get hurt, that you could get sick, that the crop wouldn’t grow or the wells would run dry. Every day was a battle for life and against death, and though my community had always rallied together in times of need, survival was never guaranteed.

  Here, though—

  I shiver.

  Here, I am bathed in the lap of luxury. I have food on demand, air conditioning streaming across my skin, clean water that runs hot or cold depending on my mood or need. I even have a whole army of SADs who are willing to give their lives for me, all because of the promise of a better future.

  But this war… this conflict… it could end, and with it change our world for the greater good.

  But was she right? I wonder. To do what she did?

  I was always taught that murder was always wrong—that you didn’t hurt people you don’t agree with. At the same time, I have heard of enough human travesties to know that sometimes, there are evil people in this world; and sometimes, they do evil things.

  But does killing them make them right?

  I don’t know, nor do I feel I am educated enough to make that decision.

  With a sigh, I reach down to take Daniel’s hand and say, “Thank you for explaining all this to me.”

  “So you still want to make the war your purpose?” Daniel asks. “Even after everything I’ve told you?”

  “I have to,” I reply. “For my father. My mother. My friends back in the Sandstone Hills.”

  Daniel closes his eyes. “God,” he says. “Please—watch over us.”

  I haven’t the heart to tell Daniel that there are days when I feel that God isn’t watching over us.

  Today is one of those days.

  Two

  I try not to think about the war in the hours after Daniel has explained it all to me. Left to my own devices while my newlywed husband sleeps, I pace the apartment in an attempt to gather my thoughts, but find myself unable to do so.

  A thousand questions flutter through my head.

  What will happen? one asks.

  How long will we be here? another questions.

  Where will we go afterward?

  What will we do?

  How will we live?

  What will we think?

  Though Daniel has already mentioned going to live with his parents in their home on the outskirts of the city, I am unsure what we will do once we arrive. For all I know, it could be the home we are meant to start a family within.

  Regardless, there is only one person who will be able to answer my questions.

  Mother Terra.

  But where could she be?

  I cross my arms over my breasts as I consider the doorway, which is so close and yet so far away, and long to escape. Even stepping into the hallway to look out the panoramic view of the Glittering City would offer me some respite, but with the SADs stationed outside our door until further notice, we’re stuck here—caught like two troublesome mice within a trap.

  I sigh, then turn to consider Daniel. He’s sleeping so soundly, so peacefully, without the regret I feel in my heart, my lungs, my bones.

  I’m just about to wander to the bed and join him when a knock comes at the door, startling me mid-stride.

  “Who is it?” Daniel asks, his eyes snapping open.

  “I don’t know,” I say. “I—”

  The door opens abruptly.

  Mother Terra steps in.

  I sigh as a combination of relief and fear overwhelm me.

  The Revered Mother frowns. “Kelendra,” she says, stepping deeper into the room. She considers me for several short moments before asking, “To what pleasure do I owe this summons today?”

  I turn to look at Daniel, whose hair is disheveled and whose eyes are still clouded with sleep, then return my gaze to Mother Terra. “I… had some questions I wanted answered.”

  “Questions you did not ask the First Lady?”

  “You knew she was here?” I frown.

  “I was made aware that she would answer your summons in my stead, but was not informed as to what your conversation was about.” She narrows her eyes at me. “Tell me: what all did you discuss?”

  “I asked about our confinement,” I reply.

  “Which she explained was mandatory until further notice.”

  “And… well…” I pause. “I designated my Purpose.”

  “Something tells me that I won’t approve of this.”

  “I decided to dedicate myself to the war.”

  She blinks. Though obviously stunned, she does not stew in her disbelief like the First Lady did. Rather, she opens her mouth and says, “Are you out of your mind?”

  “No ma’am,” I reply. “I’m not.”

  “You have to be if you are insane enough to try and dedicate yourself to a political purpose.”

  “This isn’t political, ma’am.”

  “Then what is it?” She snaps her gaze to Daniel. “Did you not speak to her about this?”

  “No ma’am,” Daniel replies. “I only heard about this after I came back from calling my foreman in the fields.”

  “This is ridiculous,” Mother Terra says. “Do you know how many legal loopholes you will have to go through in able for the court to even consider this? Beautiful Ones are not politicians, nor do they hold any standards that would allow them to offer sway to a cause such as the war.”

  “I don’t wish to sway the war, ma’am. I wish to help the soldiers.”

  She stops, and for a moment, she appears to have calmed down. However, that soon fades, as in moments her tone is shifting once more. “You’re ignorant beyond your wildest comprehension, Mrs. Cross. I hope you’re aware of that.”

  “Hey!” Daniel says. “Don’t speak to my wife that way.”

  “Silence!” she snaps.

  Daniel shrinks back.

  The Revered Mother sets her gaze on me once more. “Whether or not this declaration will be admitted into public record is up to not only the Countess, but the Commandant and then a judge thereafter. You are aware of that, correct?”

  “Correct,” I reply.

  “Fine.” She straightens her posture, and appears to turn into a completely different person in the process, metamorphosing like a caterpillar would into a butterfly. “Now then,” she says. “For what reason did you summon me?”

  “I want to know how soon it’ll be until we can get out of here,” I say.

  “Yeah,” Daniel replies. “I want to know too.”

  “Your safety is our number one priority. You will not be allowed to leave until we are sure that you w
ill be safe.”

  “What’s taking so damn long? I thought you had the city on lockdown?”

  “You will watch your tongue, Mr. Cross, when speaking to a Gentlewoman of the Great South.” Mother Terra turns her eyes on me. “And you…” She softens. “You will remain calm and complicit. Do you understand?”

  “How can I be calm when someone just tried to kill me?”

  “You are safe here. Sheltered. Secure. However—” She pauses. “There is a chance to relocate you if the setting is deemed appropriate enough.”

  “Could we go to my parents’ house?” Daniel asks, and for the first time since Mother Terra has arrived, he stands and approaches us. “We live on the outskirts of town, and unless you make a big show of it, we should be perfectly safe there.”

  “Safe? Outside the Spire?” She laughs. “You are either a fool, Mr. Cross, or completely ignorant. I’m starting to believe you are a combination of both.”

  “Revered Mother—” I start.

  “It would be impossible to move you in this current climate. There are photojournalists surrounding the Spire—taking pictures, recording video, watching and waiting for any sign of movement from in front of and behind the building. If we moved you now, there would be no way to ensure that your relocation would be private. And if that happened, you would be just as vulnerable there as you would be out in the streets.”

  “Have they not deemed the city safe?” Daniel asks, frowning.

  “No, Mr. Cross. They haven’t.”

  My hopelessness is rising. Like seas upon a distant shore, it swallows everything—from my life, my purpose, to my conscience. I want so desperately to be free from these four walls, but if we leave only to be placed back in the thick of danger—

  I sigh.

  Daniel lifts his eyes to face me. “What’re you thinking?”

  “I think,” I reply, “that we should stay here, at least for the time being.”

  “Smart girl,” Mother Terra says. “You would do well to learn from your wife, Mr. Cross.”

  “I—” Daniel starts, then stops before he can finish. He sighs a moment later. “Fine. We’ll stay here.”

  “We will let you know as soon as we are able to relocate you,” Mother Terra says. “In the meantime, there are other things we should address.”