by Jamie Canosa
By lunch time, I smelled like a potent mixture of bodily fluids and cleaning supplies. Attractive, I know. I hadn’t brought anything with me to eat, figuring I would just snag something from the bakery like always. My choices were now to either go into a shop, looking and smelling like I did and buy something or just skip a meal. I was leaning towards the latter. The day’s work hadn’t left me much of an appetite anyway. I spent the full half hour sitting on a bench in the park breathing in some fresh air and trying to alleviate the burning sensation deep in my lungs.
The rest of the day was no better than the beginning. Maybe even worse, if that was at all possible. The last rest room of the day was on the first floor of the town hall building and by far the worst. It took me two hours to get it to an acceptable level of not-so-bad.
At least I was already at town hall. As soon as I tossed the last trash bag in the dumpster around back, I ran upstairs to the local office of the Employment Department. One look at me, heck one whiff, and they’d have to reverse the transfer. Just for pity’s sake alone.
When I reached the office on the third floor, the door was already shut. I knew it was after five, but come on! I pounded on the oak door for a solid minute before a woman opened it looking utterly perturbed.
“We’re closed for the day,” she said stiffly, attempting to shut the door in my face.
I managed to wedge my foot in the space between the door and the frame and refused to remove it until she heard me out. If she thought for one second that I was going through another day from hell like that before I got to talk to someone, she had another thing coming. I explained about the mix up and informed her that I would be returning to my position at the bakery the following day and that I could come by afterwards if they need me to help fix any paper work or anything. She only half listened to my tirade, before forcibly removing my foot from the doorway with her own. She did, however, find the time to assure me that my reassignment was both authorized and legit before slamming the door in my face. Like I was about to take her word for it. Peter. I needed to find Peter. He worked in the archives. He had to have some sort of idea what happened . . . and how I could fix all of this.
I raced toward the archives building as fast as my legs would carry me, which, granted, wasn’t all that fast. Understandably, I was met with more than a few strange looks when I pushed through the crowd into the building. Peter’s department manager informed me that he had already left, and I headed for his house next. I really should have gone home and showered first, especially considering I’d managed to avoid ever meeting his parents before. Not exactly the first impression I’d been going for, but oh well, so what. I had bigger problems at the moment.
By the time I reached his front gate, I was panting hard. I seriously needed to get in shape. Giving myself about thirty seconds to get it together, I knocked on the door and waited. Peter answered. Thank goodness.
“Leigh? What the heck happened to you?” So help me, if he’d laughed at me right then, I would not have been held responsible for my actions.
“Don’t start, Peter.”
He joined me out on the front steps, wrinkling his nose slightly as he sat beside me. I could only imagine what I looked like right about then. I explained—not ranted, no matter what Peter may have called it—about the reassignment, and begged him to help me fix it.
“I don’t know what I can do, Leigh, but I’ll look into it.”
Well, that was way too easy. No jokes at my expense? No sarcastic comments? No ridiculous demands? Something was definitely up.
“What’s wrong, Peter?”
“Nothing. I just . . . My mate file came.”
Oh . . . huh. Shouldn’t mine have come first? I’m older than him by a few weeks. Wait, when was my birthday? Had it really come and gone without me noticing? Every time I tried to think back, everything got all hazy. I blamed it on the cleaning chemicals I’d been inhaling all day.
“So, who is she?”
“Her name’s Ethel. Hold on, let me get the file.”
He disappeared back inside, and I was left sitting on the steps alone. I really couldn’t blame him for not inviting me in. I wouldn’t have wanted me inside either. Ethel. That sounded like a really old-fashioned name. When Peter returned and handed me the file, I saw why. The woman was old-fashioned. Well maybe not old-fashioned, but definitely old. She was almost seventy.
“That can’t be right. It must be some kind of mistake.” I was unable to control my jaw bone, which seemed to have come unhinged at the moment.
“It’s not. We checked. She’s some kind of important official over in colony H. Her husband died and she requested to be repaired. Because of her position, she can’t leave, so I’m going to have to move over there. I don’t have much time left at the archives here, but I’ll see what I can do about your job before I go.”
“Forget the work assignment, Peter, you can’t marry . . .” Oww, my proclamation of all things ludicrous was cut short by another stomach twisting round of cramps. Now what? “Peter, there’s no way you can . . .” Ugh, it felt like someone had taken all of my insides and tossed them in a blender.
“Are you all right?” Peter looked legitimately concerned.
I was a little concerned myself, but my friend needed me. He couldn’t marry that old bag. I couldn’t let him, but every time I tried to tell him, the words got choked off by a growing lump in my throat. What could I do? What could he do? How could this have happened to Peter, of all people. The lump in my throat was starting to cut off oxygen to my brain. It was the only explanation for the little voice inside my head telling me I had to let him go.
“Leigh?” His worried face was blurred behind the tears gathering in my eyes.
This was unacceptable. I was not going to have some kind of breakdown right there on Peter’s stoop.
“You have to go. That’s just the way it is.” Yeah, sure, those words manage to escape my strangled vocal chords.
I didn’t know where they came from, they were so far from what I was thinking. All I knew was that I needed to get out of there . . . now. The flash of hurt in Peter’s eyes almost made me stay, but I forced myself up and out of his yard before I could change my mind. I could clean up the mess I’d just made later, after I figured out exactly what was the matter with me.
Not much later though because Peter was leaving. The thought hit me like a truck and spurred my feet into a run. I hadn’t even asked him when he was leaving. What was wrong with me?
I kept moving with no particular destination in mind, just putting more and more distance between myself and Peter, until I couldn’t take another single solitary step. I found myself in the business district, outside an electronics store, doubled over, hands on my knees, sucking in as much air as possible when a high pitched beeping demanded my attention. It was coming from the display of televisions just inside the shop window. They were all showing the same exact image; an angry looking girl around my age with long brown hair and dark eyes. She was scowling, and her eyes flashed with the threat of violence. Definitely not someone I’d want to run into in a dark alley, that was for sure. A series of words scrolled across the bottom of the screen.
‘Escaped prisoner. Considered extremely dangerous. Orders to execute on sight have been issued. If you see her, immediately contact your local security agency.’
The words ran on a continuous loop, and I read them four times before I’d recovered enough to keep moving. This time I walked. My legs felt rubbery, and I was completely fatigued. Now would have been a good time to go home. All I wanted to do was shower and climb into bed, but of course, my life couldn’t be that simple.
I’d almost reached the end of the business district when I heard a soft whimpering sound coming from the back of an alleyway. Ignoring it probably wouldn’t have won me any citizenship awards, but considering the day I’d been having, I declared myself exempt from my good deed of the day. Too bad my conscience disagreed. Consciences, who decided those were a good i
dea?
The crying got a little louder as I inched my way down the dark alley. It was definitely human, not some injured animal like I’d assumed at first. Perfect, now there was no way I could walk away.
“Hey,” I put on my best ‘let’s be friends, I’m really not a serial killer’ voice, which ended up sounding exactly like a serial killer would probably talk. “Are you okay?”
I peered through the dark expecting to see some lost little kid. Color me stunned when the crazy chic from the T.V. came crawling out from behind some boxes. Except, she didn’t look crazy, or angry, or dangerous like the news had said. She just looked . . . scared. What was I supposed to do with that?
‘Call security.’ That little voice in my head was back. I couldn’t call security on her. They had orders to execute her on sight. No way was I being a part of that. I should just leave, that was the best option. Just turn around and walk away before things got out of hand. ‘What if she is dangerous? What if she hurts someone?’ The voice was becoming disgruntled and getting more difficult to ignore, but I was determined.
I backed away, one step and then another. Whatever happened after I left wasn’t my problem. I turned to leave in earnest, but I was already too late. The mouth of the alley filled with guards, who then descended on us like a great black wave. I pressed up against the wall, but they paid me no attention. All of their focus was on the girl, who was now curled into a tight ball and shaking like a leaf. She was terrified and rightfully so. The guards had all drawn their weapons.
I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t just stand there and watch it happen. That was exactly why they got away with stuff like that; because the rest of us did nothing. Before I could over think it, or maybe just think at all and risk changing my mind, I lunged in front of the girl.
Chapter 6
I opened my eyes to blinding whiteness. I was shot. I must have been shot, and now I was dead.
Struggling to sit up, I took a look around. No, definitely not paradise. I was sitting on a table in a room surrounded by white. I mean the ceiling, walls, floor, table, sheets, even my clothes were all devoid of any color whatsoever. I looked at the contrast of my hands against the pure white sheets covering my body. I may not have a solid tan, but it was enough to know that there was nothing wrong with my eyes. A hospital, then? I didn’t feel any pain though, and there was only one machine in the room parked next to the bed I was lying on. It didn’t look like any kind of medical device that I’d ever seen before. So what? Where was I? How did I get there? The last thing I remembered was . . . being on that train. The train! How could I have forgotten about that?
A scraping sound startled me, as a door that I hadn’t noticed inlaid in one of the walls slid open. A tall woman dressed in white scrubs strode in flanked by two guards.
“What’s going on?” My voice sounded rusty, as though I hadn’t used it in a while.
“You have been found guilty of dissidence, and these men are here to escort you to your location of incarceration.” She held herself tall as though she’d already heard every argument I could possibly offer and intended to defy them all.
“Guilty?” The word almost stuck in my throat. “Shouldn’t there have been, you know, some kind of trial or something first?”
“That was your trial.”
“That? That weird dream was my trial? That was a mind trick, not a trial. I didn’t even know I was being tried!”
“Your subconscious was aware that it was a test, and still you failed.” She turned her back, leaving me alone with the two angry looking guards.
“Wait! Can you at least tell me why I was arrested in the first place?” Like I didn’t already know, but there were so many different options, I was just curious as to which one had done me in.
With a frustrated sigh, she flipped open a file she’d been carrying and scanned a few pages. “There are several reports of you openly renouncing government protocol on record, and do you remember a specific incident in which you blatantly expressed a desire to defy one such protocol in regard to your future mate, should he be unacceptable in accordance with your personal standards?”
I just stared at her as though she were speaking some kind of foreign language. I did remember that ‘specific incident’. What I couldn’t understand was how she knew about it, or how it had ended up in that file. That had been a private conversation between me and . . . Peter.
No .No way. Peter turned me in? Peter? It wasn’t possible, was it? I’d trusted him. With the amount I had run my mouth off to him, I couldn’t believe this hadn’t happen years ago. Then again, I guess it would have been difficult to explain my disappearance earlier. Now, everyone would just believe I’d gone to colony E to live with my mate, but I assumed there was no such person waiting for me. Scott Maylee the butcher . . . they had done that on purpose. Someone somewhere had a sick sense of humor.
A hysterical laugh bubbled up my throat, and I had to fight it back down before it could escape. The thought of Peter reporting on me was enough to make my stomach roll. He was my best friend. My only friend. How could he have done this to me, and why then would he have tried to stop me in the end? Guilty conscience? Change of heart? Did it even matter?
Oblivious to my inner turmoil, one of the guards shoved a small pile of clothing into my arms—a t-shirt, light gray pants, matching long sleeved button up shirt, and undergarments. “Dress . . . quickly.”
I glanced around for somewhere to change, but there didn’t seem to be anywhere to go. Did they seriously expect me to change right there in front of them? I looked back up at the men, and they’d both turned their backs to me. How considerate. Not seeing much of an option, I quickly slipped out of the paper gown I had been wearing—not even wanting to think about how I’d gotten into it in the first place—and into the clothes provided for me. Ten seconds later, they were dragging me from the room and down a pure white hallway. There was really no need for all of the pushing and pulling. Where did they think I was going to go? I didn’t even know where I was.
Outside, we found another train waiting for us. This time, when I was escorted into a private compartment, I was slightly less surprised to find it locked behind me. For a few insane minutes, I considered if it was worth jumping from a moving train through one of the many windows in my compartment. In the end, it was a moot point because none of the windows opened anyway. Instead, I dropped down on the bed in the middle of the room and considered how long it would take to get to my ‘location of incarceration’. What did that even mean? I wondered what it would be like, what the people there would be like, how long I’d have to stay there and what would come after. I kept my brain occupied with anything and everything to avoid thinking about the one thing that was threatening to push me over the edge.
It was useless. Every other thought ran back to Peter. My chest ached, and I rubbed at it, trying to figure out what they could have done to me to make it hurt so badly. Then I realized it wasn’t my chest that ached. It was my heart.
***
Two days. That’s how long it took to reach our destination. Two whole days. Food was delivered through a small slit in the door three times a day. Besides that I was left alone with nothing but the view from my windows to keep me occupied. Needless to say, that grew old fast. I was almost relieved when the train began to slow. I was beginning to think that my punishment was simply to go mad from boredom on that train.
The relief was short lived though, and now I find myself here, in yet another locked room with nothing more than twenty sets of bare bunks to distract me from my bitter memories and worries about what will come next. Fortunately, or unfortunately, as the case may be, I don’t have to worry long. Soon enough, the door opens again, and bodies begin pouring in, male and female alike, and way more than forty.
Just as I think that it’s a good thing I got here early, a guy roughly the size of a tank comes right over to where I’m sitting. “Warming my bed for me?”
That’s just perfect. A quick glance v
erifies all of the other beds have been claimed. I’m not thrilled at the prospect of spending the night on the floor, but fighting freaking Hercules here doesn’t seem like a real great idea either.
“I might be willing to share.” A crude grin smears across his greasy face.
I think not. Silently, I slip off of the mattress, and carefully pick my way over and around prone bodies until I find a vacant patch of floor just big enough for me to curl up in. I just hope it isn’t some giant’s floor space I’m sleeping on. It doesn’t take long before the room quiets down, filled only with the sounds of rhythmic breathing broken up by the occasional snore. The odds of me sleeping at all tonight are less than zero. How convenient for me, then, that the sleep hours here are severely limited anyway.
Before the sun even peeks over the horizon, the door bursts open, and all around me people start getting to their feet and shuffling out of the room. Without the slightest idea what’s going on or what I should be doing, I follow them. We’re directed to a large, open-aired pavilion, with only one solid wall running along the back, and served what looks like week old, burnt oatmeal. My stomach rumbles in response. It’s been a while since the last time I ate, and burnt oatmeal is looking suspiciously like filet mignon. It tastes, however, very much like burnt oatmeal. I choke down nearly half the bowl before a harsh voice cuts through my concentration.
“Hey, Newbie.”
I assume that would be me, unless I’m not the only sucker stuck in this hellhole since yesterday. I glance over without lifting my head, refusing to acknowledge my new kid status in front of everyone else. It doesn’t do me any good though because a hulking guard is already headed in my direction. He doesn’t bother repeating himself, just wraps his hand around my hair and tugs me from my seat. He wrenches my head sideways and back so that I am mere inches away from the most bulbous nose I have ever seen in my life. His dark eyes are narrow slits as he glares down at me.