by Beck, Glenn
“You’ve lost your mind! How would we ever survive out there? It’s called the Human Free Zone for a reason.”
“For starters, we’ve got a gun. But beyond that, you’re going to have to trust me. I know it’s asking a lot. But this is our son, his wife, and our grandchild that we’re talking about here. They’re out there somewhere. I think a little blind faith is justified. Besides, what’s the alternative—to sit here in this cement box of a home saluting the Republic while we never see our family again? Is that what you want? To stay here and do nothing?”
Joan knew that if John was right and David had taken his young family to the other side, she would never see them again. She also knew that if she and her husband were taken into custody by the Authorities, they would be held out as examples or, worse, used as bait to lure David and Emmeline back to the Compound.
That is, if John was right.
“I don’t know what I want,” she answered, her lips barely moving.
They sat side by side and the tiny Living Space settled around them like a shroud, airless and tight. Joan pushed her clenched fists against her forehead so tightly that her knuckles turned white. John picked up the gun, turned it over in his hand, and felt the smooth gray metal, cold against his fingertips.
The door to their space opened and, without notice, the Gatekeeper rushed in. John quickly pushed the gun under the mat. The Gatekeeper grabbed Joan by the arm, pulling her toward the door.
“Hurry, Citizen, hurry. You’re needed at the Village immediately.”
“Yes, yes,” Joan said, “I’ll come. But my husband must come too, for protection. I need him.”
“I don’t care if he comes or not. I was told to get you quickly.” He pulled her through the doorway. John grabbed the gun from under the mat and followed behind them, pushing the weapon deep into the waistband of his orange Transport Team pants and pulling his shirt down to cover it.
They ran toward the fire and noise. Joan saw the dark shape of a guard lying motionless beside the path. “Look,” she called out to the Gatekeeper. “Over there, someone is lying there. He’s not moving.”
“Not my problem,” the Gatekeeper said. “My orders are to get you to the Village. Keep moving.”
They passed by the burning Social Update Stage where Citizens, under the watchful eyes of guards, were beating at the flames with bed linens. Water was limited in the Compound; there was none available to put out fires. The air was heavy with the smell of smoke. They kept hurrying toward the Village.
Once there, the Gatekeeper turned them over to an Enforcer. “I’m going inside with you while you inventory the children,” the Enforcer said, pointing his pistol at Joan. “If any are missing, inform me at once. And you,” he said, pointing at John, “stay in my sight at all times.”
Joan rushed inside past the cramped supply cupboard. The fire cast enough light through the windows for her to see the two Caretakers huddled in the corner. The Enforcer stayed so close to Joan that she could smell the cold carbon of his gun.
“What are you doing, sitting in here?” Joan screamed at the Caretakers. “Have you checked the children?” The stale odor of alcohol wafted from them and out into the hallway. “Hand me a torch.”
As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, Joan recognized one of the Caretakers. Lizzie. Lazy, nasty Lizzie. She was the one who had told Emmeline about the mass killings that occurred before Citizens were loaded onto trains and moved into Compounds—killings that counted Emmeline’s grandmother and aunt among the victims. Emmeline had been devastated after hearing the story. Joan couldn’t remember the name of the other Caretaker. They both looked dazed—probably a combination of the alcohol and the confusion from the fire outside. The Caretakers felt for their torches. Gone. Their torches were gone.
Dusk to dawn, Caretakers always had their torches. Always. They couldn’t function without them. Joan knew then, with absolute certainty, that Emmeline and David had escaped. They’d taken the lights, grabbed Elsa, and fled. There was no one else with access to the precious torches and no one else but Emmeline with access to the drunken Caretakers. There could be no other explanation. John was right. There was no more if. Her doubts were replaced with grim determination.
“I can’t inventory without light,” she said to the Enforcer. “Let me get a torch from my office. Please.” She knew there was no torch there, but she wanted to delay any inventory of the children and confuse the Enforcer if she could. She rushed down the corridor and into her office. Flinging open closet doors, pulling open desk drawers, she searched with frantic hands. The Enforcer stood close, watching her.
“Help me, John. Do something.” John stood in the doorway and watched the corridor, hoping no other Enforcer entered. He heard the urgency in her plea and immediately understood what she was doing. “Put down your gun and help us search,” he said to the Enforcer.
“No. Never,” the Enforcer said, keeping his eyes on Joan. “Do you think I’m a fool?”
John reached for his gun. The movement of his arm seemed like slow motion. He pulled the weapon out, raising it in his hand, pointing it, curling his finger on the trigger, each motion deliberate. It felt like the whole process lasted an eternity, yet it happened in the space of one short breath.
A shot rang out.
The Enforcer collapsed to the floor. The bullet had hit him directly in the center of his head. No one seemed to notice the sound of one more gunshot. John, who, before that day had never hurt another human being, had now struck a guard with a rock and shot an Enforcer—all in one night. He felt like a stranger in his own skin. A cold shiver ran down his spine, sharp as a bony finger.
Joan leaned against the wall, her mouth open.
John bent over the Enforcer and began unfastening his jacket, slipping the sleeves off his limp arms.
“What are you doing?” Joan asked.
“I’m getting us out of here. No one will stop us if they think I’m an Enforcer.” He began putting the Enforcer’s uniform on over his own clothes, then picked up the Enforcer’s gun. “Go confirm that Elsa is gone from her crib. Then gather some supplies. Grab whatever you can carry. Hurry.” He tucked both guns into his waistband. His fate was sealed. He was now a Citizen with not just one gun, but two.
Joan nodded and ran down the corridor to the nursery. Feeling her way in the dim room past crying babies she reached Elsa’s crib. It was empty. It had been empty long enough that the mattress was cool to the touch. She went back into the hallway, running, glancing into the rooms as she went. In the flickering light from the fire, she glimpsed an empty cot in the boys’ sleeping space, an empty chair where the next day’s clothes should be laid out. In other cots, boys sat upright, frightened, holding their thin blankets tightly against their chins. She paused in the doorway and whispered, “It’s okay,” but she couldn’t stop to say anything else.
She ran back to the supply cupboard. The two Caregivers were still huddled in the corner like frightened, cornered animals. “Get up! Do you hear me? Get up! Go tend to the children. Now!” They stood, unsteady, staring at her.
“I said go. I’ll report you if you don’t.” She pointed to the corridor and the two of them left the closet quickly. With rapid frantic movements she randomly pulled things off the shelves, filling a flimsy trash bucket. She put as much as she could into it before returning to the office.
“Elsa?” John asked, the Enforcer’s black uniform now completely covering his orange Transport one.
“Gone. And one other child, too. A boy. They’re gone.”
“Oh my God. Oh my God.” John pushed his hands through his thick dark hair, trying to think. “Is there another exit from the Village?”
“Just this door at the back of my office.” She pointed to it.
“What does it lead to?”
“A metal shed behind the Village but inside the fence. There’s broken equipment in it. It’s locked.”
“Do you have the key?”
“Yes.” She rummag
ed through a desk door. “Why?”
“We’ve got to get rid of him. Get him out of sight. Otherwise, they’ll know his uniform was stolen. That would blow my cover. In all this chaos it will take them some time to realize he’s missing.”
Together they dragged the heavy body out of her office and into the windowless shed. Dark shapes of broken equipment littered the floor and were piled against the walls. The Enforcer became just another broken shape.
“Now listen. Do what I say. Pretend I’m arresting you. Don’t say a word.” He put the key to the shed in his pocket.
They left the Village together through the main entrance. Joan was in front carrying the small, shiny metal bucket by its thin handle. John, in the Enforcer’s uniform, was behind her, holding the gun in full view. No one stopped them. No one would ever question the actions of an Enforcer.
He urged her forward, forcefully, with one hand on her shoulder, his face grim.
Another Enforcer, seeing John with his prisoner, made the circle sign in approval. “Looks like she was stealing. Look at all the things she has in that bucket.”
A clipboard and nourishment bottle were clearly visible above the edge.
“Taking advantage of the situation, was she?”
John said nothing but simply nodded.
“What are your orders? Hope they’re tough on her.”
“Stick to the perimeter. Take her to Recycle.”
“Good. Recy is where she belongs. Any problem with the children? I hope they are all right.”
“Caretakers are with them.”
“Praise be to the Republic.”
John nodded. “Praise be to the Republic.” The other Enforcer gave the circle sign and walked back toward the Village. John felt the weight of possible discovery lift slightly. He pushed Joan forward again.
She sobbed as she walked, great heaving sobs, sucking in air to keep from collapsing upon herself. An observer might think it was because an Enforcer had captured her but in truth she cried because her world was crumbling around her. She mourned for all that had already been lost, that which could be lost in the future, and fear of the unknown.
“Keep moving, Citizen,” John said loudly. Then he whispered: “See that bus-box straight ahead? Walk behind it.”
A few steps later Joan saw why he said the hole was hidden. The bus-box, useless and unrepaired for so long, was covered with wild ivy. The wooden wheels had rotted flat against the ground. Behind it was a hole cut into the bottom of the thick wire fence.
The doorway to freedom.
CHAPTER THREE
* * *
DAVID
Day 1
Emmy looked peaceful as she slept. Her face reminded David of a painting he had seen long ago in a book—before the books were all taken away. Her skin was so smooth, her lips so full and soft. Her arm curved around Elsa and her hand cupped Elsa’s foot. David noticed the way the sunlight slipped in between the branches and danced on her hair. Hair soft as silk that curled at the ends and lay in the hollow between her cheek and shoulder. Yellow sunbeams, golden hair. He had loved her from a distance for a long time. He had ached deep inside knowing bad things were happening to her. First, both her father and her original Authority-assigned partner had died in a suspicious accident. Then her newborn was taken away. Then her mother was taken away for being non-productive. The Authorities had paired her with an immature brat who eventually deserted her. Now she was all alone in the world.
All the while, he was at a distance, watching, knowing she was alone. But he had no power to change anything. As a mere dusk-to-dawn Gatekeeper, he could only monitor people, make rounds, nothing more. His job was to report Citizens for whatever they might do against the rules. But he had never reported anyone for anything. It wasn’t in his nature.
He had felt helpless and thought he had no chance to ever be near Emmy. Gatekeepers could not socialize with Citizens. That was a rule. But she’d begun to wake up before dawn and sit in her doorway looking at the stars. When he saw her there the first time his heart had raced so quickly that he got dizzy. She had been so beautiful in the moonlight. He wanted to bring her everything she desired and spread his gifts out at her feet with a grand flourish. But what could he bring to her? He had nothing. None of the Citizens did. Finally, he risked picking flowers. The Authorities said flowers were protected, but he didn’t care. He had pushed his fingers through the fence and picked the flowers growing outside the Compound. He had picked them for her!
He had become a Citizen who broke the rules.
He had given her his hard-boiled egg snack and watched her lips on the whiteness of the egg. When she smiled at him his heart had pounded in his ears.
And then the unbelievable happened.
The Authorities paired him with Emmy. He knew his mother had somehow manipulated the system to arrange it. She must have said the right thing to the right person. Next, his mother had hired Emmy as a night-shift Caretaker at the Children’s Village so that she could be near her daughter.
What his mother had accomplished was amazing, almost magical. David wondered if other mothers would risk everything for their children. Then he looked at Emmy holding her daughter. And he knew the answer.
Emmy had been so happy about the job at the Village. She’d never held Elsa, not even when she was a newborn, but now she could nurture her, care for her, love her. Emmy’s face had been joyful, radiant even, as she’d told him how it felt to have the little girl in her arms after her first shift.
But things changed. Emmy told him things weren’t going well at the Village. She said her coworkers were lazy and the children weren’t thriving. Removing a child from the Village was forbidden, but Emmy had run to him last night with Elsa in her arms, explaining that the children were going to be relocated to another Compound. She said that Elsa would be gone from her forever. Her eyes were filled with fear but her voice was firm, unwavering. When she told him they were leaving, David knew he couldn’t stop her. She said if he didn’t come with her, she’d go on her own. No negotiations. If he wanted to be with her and Elsa then he’d have to escape right along with them. And he wanted nothing more than to be with her. In the end, there was really nothing to think about.
Now, under the low branches of a pine tree, David felt like he’d been caught in a tornado, twirled about, and set back down, dizzy and disoriented. It was all a blur: they were running, carrying Elsa, and a bundle of things Emmy had grabbed, including the treasures Emmy’s mother had kept hidden from the Authorities for so many years. Then they’d set fire to the Social Update Stage using the forbidden matches from the bundle. Sounds of gunfire had mixed with screams. Finally, they’d escaped from the Compound through the hidden hole in the fence his father had created.
David shifted his weight, and tried to find a comfortable position. He wondered if his mother and father were safe. Maybe they got away, too, using that same hole. He found comfort in the thought, unlikely as it was.
Once the Authorities figured out which Citizens had disappeared, they would do everything to find them and punish them. That’s just how they worked. Always punish, never reward—unless you were a snitch. Snitches thrived.
David tried desperately to sleep, but it wouldn’t come. He had too much adrenaline, too much uncertainty, too much fear, too many thoughts racing through his mind. His arm throbbed like a beating drum.
How stupid he felt for running and falling like that. What if he had been carrying Elsa? His arm hurt terribly but he didn’t want Emmy to know. She didn’t need anything else to worry about. Even worse, it was his right arm, his strong arm; the arm he’d need to protect them all.
Elsa was curled up like a little pink ball on Emmy’s lap. Mother and child. The defender and the defenseless.
Small birds hopped freely from branch to branch in the pine tree. A fly struggled in a spider web near the sleeping boy.
David looked closely at him for the first time. He was a cute little fellow with spiky hair and a splas
h of freckles across the bridge of his nose and the roundest part of his cheeks. He wondered what his name was, how old he was. He struck David as a pretty spunky kid and smart, too, the way he went after their bundle when it was rolling down the hill. He saw something that needed to be done and he did it. Maybe he’s like Emmy, he thought. She saw something that needed to be done and she did it. She’d saved Elsa from the relocation of the Children’s Village. Desperation overruled danger. Love eclipsed fear.
David tried to remember the stuff he’d learned at Boy Scouts, in the before-time. Their motto had been “Always be prepared,” but he didn’t feel that way now. What’s safe to eat and drink? How to find shelter? He didn’t realize back then how important survival skills could be. Their very lives depended on him now. Responsibility settled as heavily on his shoulders as the branches of the tree pushed against him.
Emmy was the bravest, most loving person he’d ever known. She was more than his partner. She was his wife. She was his life. He would do anything necessary to protect her.
Anything.
CHAPTER FOUR
* * *
JOHN AND JOAN
Day 1
Hidden from view by the bus-box, John pushed the small metal bucket of supplies through the hole in the fence. It made a harsh, scraping sound against the concrete base and the handle caught on the cut metal wire. John pulled the handle loose and shoved the bucket through. It tipped over, and a nourishment bottle rolled out onto the ground.
Joan watched, glancing frequently over her shoulder at the fire and chaos behind her.
“I’m going through. Follow me. Hurry.” John pushed his head and shoulders through the opening, his face mere inches above the cement base, the hard concrete smell filling his nose. His sleeve caught on a sharp piece of wire; he pulled it free, tearing the sturdy fabric of the Enforcer’s uniform. Once on the other side, he picked up the nourishment bottle and shoved it back into the bucket.