The War Outside

by Kody Boye

  On the morning I am meant to leave, I awaken early, and look out at the slowly-rising sun as dawn comes upon the world.

  For the first time in a long time, I’m seeing the city in a light I never have before, even though I’ve witnessed the sun rise and set upon it many times.

  No.

  This dawn, as glorious as it happens to be, is not breathtaking in the physical sense, but the metaphorical one.

  Within hours, I will leave the Glittering City behind and head to the Great Divide, whereupon its border two sides fight to shape the world in their image.

  I am completely and utterly terrified.

  Remember, my conscience is quick to remind me. This is what you wanted.

  Yes. I am very much aware of that. But at the same time, I find myself reeling from the fact that I will actually be going out there, beyond these walls, interacting and speaking with the soldiers who likely have not seen home for months.

  The only question is if I’ll be able to face them, and how I’ll react if they might question me.

  In the bed, Daniel rolls over, and asks, “Are you getting ready?”

  “Sort of,” I say, turning my head to look over my shoulder. “I’m… processing.”

  “Processing… what?”

  “The fact that I’ll be leaving.”

  “It’s not going to be glitz and glam, Kel. From what they teach us about the war… it’s—”

  “Horrible. Yeah. I know.” Truthfully, I don’t, because my father had always shielded me from the horrors that take place upon the Great Divide, but Daniel doesn’t need to know that. Straightening, I turn to face him, and continue by saying, “I’ll be all right. Mother Terra will be there, and so will the SADs. They’ll make sure nothing happens to me.”

  “By what? Encasing you in a bubble?”

  I frown.

  Daniel frowns back. “Sorry,” he says. “I’m just worried.”

  “I know you are. But, I mean… if something happens, it happens. There’s nothing either of us can do to change that.”

  “You can still say you don’t want to go.”

  “And risk making myself look like a coward?” I shake my head. “No. I have to do this, Daniel. If I don’t… it’ll change everything. For the worse.”

  Sighing, Daniel nods, then throws his legs over the side of the bed. “We should call for room service,” he says. “You need to eat before you leave, and we both know Mother Terra will be here sooner rather than later.”

  “I know.”

  I return my eyes to the city and find myself wondering what the distant north will be like.

  The war’s been happening for twenty-five years.

  Could my influence help end it?

  Mother Terra’s arrival sparks within me a wildfire that I cannot contain. Igniting my anxiety, fueling my dread, her appearance instantaneously inspires the reality that I will soon be leaving the Glittering City behind, and heading toward the Rita Blanca Sector of the Great Divide.

  “Kelendra,” she says, turning her eyes on me. “Are you ready?”

  There is no way I could truly be ready for something like this. However, with no choice but to agree, I nod and say, “Yes. I am.”

  “Good.” She flicks her gaze toward Daniel. “Say goodbye while you can.”

  I lean into Daniel’s embrace and hold him tight.

  “It’ll be okay,” Daniel says. “Have faith in that.”

  Though I can’t imagine the Great God would shine down on such a fortunate young woman like me, I nod and say, “Okay.”

  Then I turn to Mother Terra and follow her out the open door, leaving Daniel not only to stew in his emotions, but also live without knowing what might happen to me.

  In the hallway, we are flanked by two SADs.

  In the elevator, we wait silently for our descent.

  And in the lobby, the gravity of the situation begins to take hold. Weighing me down like a man carrying the world, and pressured like a diamond being formed in the crust of the earth, I take slow, deep breaths and try my hardest not to falter.

  Just remember, my mother would have said, that feelings are temporary, but actions are forever.

  That thought does little to comfort me as we make our way toward the hotel’s back entrance, then out into the early-morning daylight.

  A single car awaits us.

  Mother Terra is quick to direct one of the SADs to step forward and scan the vicinity before escorting me to the vehicle.

  “Where do we go from here?” I ask as the Revered Mother slides into the back seat beside me.

  “The Northern Safe Zone,” she says. “We’ll prepare for departure there.”

  With a nod, I bow my head and close my eyes as the driver maneuvers the vehicle out of the parking lot and onto the nearby road.

  Though I know it won’t take us long to reach the Northern Safe Zone, I am immediately filled with thoughts of my wedding day.

  A woman, declaring our names—

  A bomb, detonated with purpose—

  People, dying.

  I shiver even though it is not cold and wrap my arms around myself as we continue to make our way through the early-morning traffic—knowing, without a shadow of a doubt, that what I will see beyond these walls will ultimately change my life forever.

  I’ve always been sheltered. By my mother, by my father, by the government.

  Now, there is nothing that will prevent me from seeing the world with clear eyes.

  But are you ready? my conscience asks.

  This I do not know, but regardless, there is no stopping what is to come.

  Buildings are disappearing. The road is thinning.

  Soon, we are coming upon the very Safe Zone Daniel and I were forced to take shelter in after the attempt of our lives.

  One moment we are passing through a gargantuan gateway, then the next we are entering a guarded perimeter with high watchtowers.

  A SAD turns from her place near a glass porthole along the northern wall and begins to approach.

  “Is that—” I start.

  “Diana Winters?” Mother Terra asks. “Yes. It is.”

  Diana steps toward the passenger’s side of the vehicle and waits for Mother Terra to roll it down before saying, “Are we ready to proceed?”

  “We are,” Mother Terra replies.

  The backseat door is opened.

  I step out.

  Mother Terra proceeds to crawl from the vehicle and stands upright as she faces the much-taller officer before her. “Were the items in question transferred?” she asks.

  “They were,” Diana says, then turns to face me. “Beauty.”

  “Yes ma’am?” I ask.

  “I would hope that you are comfortable in what you are wearing. We’ll be driving for quite some time.”

  “In what?” I ask.

  Diana points.

  A massive vehicle—not unlike the one Ceyonne and I rode in from our place in the Sandstone Hills—stands at the ready. Covered in thick, bulky armor, and armed with a strange cylinders on its sides, it appears ready for battle—which, I soon realize, it likely is.

  Swallowing, I nod and ask, “Are we ready?”

  Mother Terra replies, “Let us go.”

  Diana Winters signals to someone in the watchtower to the east and then to the west.

  Then, slowly, the gate separating the Unfortunate from the Fortunate is opening.

  “Quickly,” the SAD says, pressing a hand against my back.

  I imagine the urgency is simply due tothe potential dangers that lie outside the walls. Still, it is alarming; and as such, I walk with haste until I am alongside the vehicle, then wait breathlessly for the doors to open before crawling inside.

  The spacious backseat should have been comforting. Instead, it feels nothing more than claustrophobic.

  All for the safety of the capitol’s elite, I think.

  I sink my teeth into the inside of my cheek to keep from responding as Mother Terra climbs in second,
then Diana Winters third.

  “There’s only four of us?” I ask, noting the SAD who has been patiently waiting for us to enter the combat vehicle.

  “Two more vehicles are being prepared as we speak.”

  “But the gate—”

  I am cut off by the sound of two additional combat vehicles drawing up alongside us.

  “Never mind,” I say.

  “We are sparing no expense for this visit,” Mother Terra states. “Your safety is our priority.”

  Nodding, I lean back, clip the seatbelt across my chest, and await our departure.

  Within moments we are moving—and leaving the Glittering City behind.

  “How long will it take us to reach the Rita Blanca Sector?” I ask, already dreading the answer.

  “Nine-and-a-half hours,” the SAD says.

  I sigh, but nod before leaning back in my seat.

  “This is what you wanted,” Mother Terra says.

  While I’m tempted to reply, I merely nod instead.

  There is little I can do now but wait.

  The hours pass slowly. Ebbing endlessly together as if they are waves lapping against an eternal shore, there is no way to tell how long we have been going unless I explicitly ask. However—I know my impatience comes from a place of insecurity, and as such, keep my mouth shut in order not to draw unnecessary attention.

  You’ll get there when you get there, my conscience is quick to offer. No sooner, no later.

  Still—that doesn’t change the fact that we have been traveling for the entire morning and most of the afternoon. The sun, once low, has crossed the great open sky, and now rests almost opposite to where it had appeared upon our departure.

  How much longer can I bear to sit in this vehicle?

  The fact is: I don’t know. Already we have left the main road behind, and are now trespassing into unknown territory upon dirt pathways.

  “Revered Mother?” I ask, speaking for the first time since our departure.

  “Yes?” Mother Terra asks.

  “How much further do we have to go?”

  “The Global Positioning Unit says we will arrive soon,” Diana Winters says from the front seat. “I would suggest preparing yourselves for what is to come.”

  “I’m ready to be out of this vehicle,” I say, and sigh, allowing the tightness within my chest to unravel with my exhale.

  “You may find yourself regretting those words,” Mother Terra offers.

  At first, I’m unsure what she could mean.

  Then, slowly, it dawns on me.

  I will soon be truly exposed to the war.

  What will we encounter, I wonder, along the Divide?

  They say the true horrors of war lie within the men themselves, for their minds, so scarred by what they have seen, are tainted and vile. No longer do they see things as they are meant to be seen. Rather, they are skewed—tormented, it could be said, and possessed by the Bane of Battle.

  With a shake of my head, I lean back and prepare for the worst.

  It isn’t long before we encounter the vestiges of what was once a beautiful world.

  In place of blossoming blue flowers there are craters in the earth. The ground is singed, the grass yellowed and dead. Twisted canisters of metal lie within them—indicating that, at one point, these things fell from the sky, only to lay waste to whatever was in their paths.

  The vehicle begins to slow.

  “Remember,” Mother Terra says, “to not panic.”

  “Why are you—” I start.

  Then I see them, through the grate separating the front seats from the back: two people—two men—bearing rifles in their arms, pointing at the vehicle as slowly the distance between us is bridged.

  “They know who we are,” I say. “Right?”

  “Radio communication is sparse this far out,” Diana Winters says, “but they should recognize the military grade of the vehicle.”

  Should recognize it.

  Her tone is anything but reassuring.

  Swallowing, I lean forward and watch as Diana Winters draws the vehicle to a halt.

  The men outside approach the vehicle cautiously.

  Diana lowers the driver’s-side window.

  One man comes forward, while the other aims his rifle at the windshield.

  “Who are you?” the man who’s come to the vehicle’s side asks. “And where are you coming from?”

  “My name is Diana Winters: Senior Officer of the Southern Allegiance of Dames. We come from the capitol bearing supplies that have been donated at the request of a Beautiful One.”

  “A Beautiful One, huh?” The man pauses and leans forward in an attempt to look through the grate. When he finds he can’t see me, however, he frowns, then turns to look up the road before saying, “Go ahead. Just be warned: your vehicle will be searched on the outskirts of the camp.”

  “We understand,” Diana says.

  She rolls up the window before maneuvering the vehicle along the road.

  “Now then,” Mother Terra says, turning her head to face me. “Here is where I’ll ask you to change into something more… befitting of your position.”

  “You want me to dress up?” I ask.

  “The men aren’t going to take you seriously in a T-shirt and jeans.”

  “We’re in the middle of a war zone, ma’am. I doubt they’d care what I’m wearing.”

  “They do, and will. Now then—step into the rear compartment and change into the dress hanging on the rack. And do it quickly.”

  Standing, I reach up to take hold of the handle bars above my head and make my way toward the single sliding door that separates us from the storage compartment.

  Once inside, I turn and fumble for a switch on the wall.

  Immediately, I am struck by the sight of a long, emerald-green dress.

  For prosperity? I think. For growth?

  I don’t know, but at that moment, realize that there is little reason for me to care. All will be made clear soon enough.

  I strip out of my civilian clothes and step into the dress within a few moments. Mother Terra arrives just in time to adjust the strings along the corset that will bind the cloth to my flesh.

  In moments we are stopping.

  In minutes I am stepping out of the storage compartment.

  And in seconds, the door is opening to reveal a world unlike any I could have ever possibly imagined.

  “Let me go first,” Mother Terra says.

  I nod and allow her to step out of the vehicle and clear her throat.

  “Gentlemen,” she says, in a voice as calm and authoritative as possible. “Allow me to introduce you to the Capitol’s Ambassador to the Great War.”

  I step out.

  I lift my head.

  I, briefly, am blinded by the sun’s setting rays.

  Then I see the men who, weary from war, look on with hope in their eyes.

  “I can’t believe it,” I hear one man say. “A Beautiful One.”

  “What is she doing here?” another questions.

  “Have they brought supplies?”

  They step forward—cautiously, hopefully, with interest in their eyes and unsurety on their faces. Though they stare mostly at me, their gazes flick to the SADs, who brandish automatic rifles in their hands.

  A man steps forward and says, “Beauty?”

  I ask, “Yes?”

  He replies, “What brings you here today?”

  “I’m here to tell you that the capitol cares,” I say, “and that we come bearing supplies for the men who fight tirelessly to protect our borders.”

  The man can only stare.

  Those standing in the deeper parts of the camp come forward, drawn by the crowd and the sound of a voice that is not male. I, in response, greet them wholeheartedly—accepting bows of the head, kisses to the hand, smiles and waves of acknowledgment.

  I have just begun to feel that my place in the world has been cemented—until, that is, a newcomer appears.

  �
�Kelendra?” he asks.

  I lift my head.

  I look into his eyes.

  And see a face I could’ve never anticipated.

  The only word that can come out of my mouth is, “Father?”

  Thirteen

  The man staring back at me is a version of my father I have never seen. Worn, bedraggled, with several days’ worth of stubble on his face and a caution in his eyes I have never seen, he looks at me as if he cannot believe what he is seeing, then bursts into tears as he steps forward.

  He opens his arms.

  A SAD unfurls her shock baton.

  I say, “No!”

  And she puts it away.

  My father—Jonathan Byron, of the Sandstone Hills—takes me into his arms and sobs.

  “I can’t believe it,” he says. “My daughter. A Beautiful One.”

  I’m not sure what to say, what to feel, how to act. So I simply stand there, in stunned silence, as he cries against me, while behind me Mother Terra and Diana Winters look on.

  I can hardly believe what is happening.

  My father—here, in the Rita Blanca Sector.

  This couldn’t be mere chance.

  Could it?

  I don’t know, and I feel I don’t have time to dwell on it, for within moments a tall, imposing man in military fatigues steps forward and clears his throat before saying, “Byron. Step away from her Greatness.”

  “But—she’s my daughter,” my father says.

  The imposing man turns his eyes on me. “Is this true?”

  “Yuh-Yes sir,” I say. “He’s my father.”

  Mother Terra steps toward the tall man. “General Becker,” she says.

  “Revered Mother,” the man replies.

  “I am pleased to see that you and your men are in adequate conditions.”

  “Only because we’re further back from the Divide,” the man named Becker offers. “It’s worse further up the line.”

  “Either way, you will be happy to know that we have delivered supplies and other provisions, courtesy of the Commandant and Countess at the request of Missus Cross here.”

  “You’re… married?” my father asks.

  I nod and set my jaw together.

  As if unsure of this, my father frowns, and says, “I see.”

  Other men have drawn forward; and they, like the women in the Sandstone Hills had during the Procession, whisper amongst themselves. Their voices carry, though, and it is impossible not to hear them.