Sector 27- Assignment

by J J Pasinella

  His father replied, "I know Caleb, you just have to trust me. Do you trust me?"

  Caleb nodded his head slowly with slight hesitation.

  "Good," Joshua said, "Now I’m going to need you to remember a few things for me."

  He went on to make sure Caleb could remember the directions to get to the EMP device that had been buried in the dirt. He told him in simple terms how to use the device. They couldn't risk leaving the note around the quarters and Joshua was going to incinerate it the next time he went in to the department. Once he was sure that Caleb had absorbed the information, he stuffed the letter back into his lab coat pocket that was hanging on the back of the chair he was sitting in. After a long drawn-out sigh, he smiled, looked down at his son and said, "You are very special Caleb. You are meant for greater things than this." Looking around their quarters, he continued, "It's only going to be a matter of patience and discipline for you. As long as you keep the things I have taught you close to your heart, be careful and mindful of the things around you here, and don't fall for the lies the Keepers will bombard you with, you are going to leave this place."

  ****

  There was a light fog hanging over the grid this early dawn which suited Caleb perfectly. He began walking down his street toward the department. When his counting concrete slabs had reached a specific number he changed his train of thought to something else. Fifty, left, eighty, left, thirty, overgrowth. He began counting to fifty. Forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty. Quickly, he turned a corner into the alleyway between two living quarters. The street was vacant. The Guardians who were stationed half way down either side of this spot had both begun changing shifts. There was a very small window of opportunity to slip down the alley unnoticed. He reached the end of the narrow pathway and was right up against the fence. There was about five to six feet between the fence and the back sides of the living quarters. He knew that Guardians would often patrol down this stretch of dirt, so before moving out he peeked from the alleyway to assure himself the coast was clear. When he was satisfied by the emptiness and quiet, he moved out along the fence. He counted the last thirty paces and saw the dense thicket of overgrowth on the other side, slowly creeping its way into the grid. He pulled on the bottom part of the fence, but there was no movement. He pulled harder and still nothing. Caleb felt himself slipping into panic. He tried to keep calm and moved along the fence by the overgrowth pulling at the metal links in the ground. He heard slow and steady footsteps coming from back behind him. He could only imagine they were those of a Guardian. ‘Oh no! Please, not now, after all this time, please don't come this way!’ he thought. Finally he found the weakened piece of fence. The opening was so small that it looked like even he would have a hard time fitting through. He sat on the ground, frantically writhing his body through the small hole, all the while the footsteps getting louder and louder from an alleyway somewhere behind him. Feet through, up to the knees through, footsteps, footsteps, thighs, waist, footsteps, louder, closer, chest, neck, head, arm footsteps all around him. He let go of the fence with the arm he had been hoisting it up with and quickly pulled it through the opening, cutting a gash into the middle of his forearm. He held back the urge to yelp with pain and pressed his lab coat over the wound. He maneuvered himself onto his stomach and began crawling backwards, deeper into the overgrowth, still facing the fence.

  All of the sudden, from one of the nearby alleyways, he heard in a deep, almost harsh sounding voice, "You, STOP!"

  Caleb's heart sank into his stomach which then churned and knotted up his intestines into tight wound bands. That was it, it was over. It hadn't even begun. He knew the risk he was taking as soon as he took the chip out of his neck. The only thing he could think to do now was just lie there. If they were going to take him, they were going to have to shoot him or come in after him to drag him out. He wondered what they would do to him if they took him back to the barracks. Would they send him off to another horrible place like this one? Would they torture him? Or would they kill him right there? He remembered his father telling him how he was special, how he was going to be free from this place someday. His whole life, he had built it up and maintained focus for this moment and now it was gone. A brief rush of anger came over him. This wasn't fair! This wasn't supposed to happen. Then his anger was redirected at his father who had set him up for all of this. He had to turn him in, then stay in this place and suffer by himself for much longer than he ever wanted to.

  He didn't know how long it had been since he heard those two words uttered, and he didn't care. He slowly raised his head in time to make out a pair of thick leather boots and a pair of canvas shoes standing almost toe to toe.

  "What are you doing back here?" the voice continued.

  There was silence.

  "412-39B, return to your quarters.”

  Silence.

  "I won't say it again."

  Relief washed over Caleb like an ocean current. There was a scuffling sound as the canvas shoes stumbled backwards. He heard the sound of nylon running across cloth and then heard the cocking of a gun. He saw the pair of canvas shoes slowly turn towards the alley, and disappear behind the curtain of fog, followed closely by the black leather boots.

  He waited until he could no longer hear the footsteps before moving again. Then suddenly he burst into uncontrollable laughter. He tried to quiet himself, slowly inching himself backwards, away from the fence, deeper through the overgrowth and ever nearer to freedom.

  1.6 (The Grid)

  The night was silent. A gentle breeze blew across the dimly lit pathway between the fence and the living quarters. The droning chirp of crickets could be heard from within the dense overgrowth lining the fence, where nearby, a tall, muscular man moved along methodically. When he had reached a certain point halfway between two flickering light posts, he knelt down and almost vanished into the backdrop of the overgrowth. His black uniform provided the perfect cover for him. The man removed his goggles and placed them on the ground next to him. He reached into his pocket and removed a small switch blade that looked as if it had been crafted a long time ago. Its rusted steel handle and jagged teeth along the blade cut through the rows of barbed wire and chain links with a certain precision. He could barely see what kind of progress he was making, so he relied on his fingers to trace the incisions. After only a short while he picked up his goggles, returned them to the top of his helmet, and pocketed the knife. He stood up and pulled on one of the strands of barbed wire so that it slightly protruded into the grid. He would return to this spot whenever he could until he thought he had done enough. Then with a swift movement he tugged on the nylon strap, releasing his rifle from around his back and returning it to his hands.

  The man made his way down an alley and turned right onto one of the streets, heading toward the perimeter. After a short distance he gave a salute to a passing Guardian and arrived at his barracks. The building was quite large. Walls of brick with towering vaulted windows made it stand out drastically when compared to the living quarters a short distance away. He made his way through a set of ornate wooden doors and into a large, brightly lit hallway. He walked along the plush carpet leading to a staircase at the back end of the corridor. It was fairly quiet other than some bursts of laughter and shouting from behind a closed door on his left. Some of the other Guardians must have had a card game going on inside. He made his way up three flights of stairs to the floor where his team was living. The other members of his team had already returned and gone to bed by the time he had arrived. He pushed open a thick wooden door with the name Patrick 7-C printed on it, and stepped into the room. He flicked on the light switch to the right of the door and removed his helmet and weapon. He walked across the room and into a small kitchen area with a gas stove and a small refrigerator. He opened the refrigerator, took out a bottle of water, and took big, long gulps from it. After he finished the bottle he opened a cabinet and took out a can of mixed vegetables and beef. He turned on the gas stove and cooked his dinner. After the foo
d was ready, he took the bowl with him out to his living area and sat down in a large, plush arm chair. When he finished eating he went back to the kitchen, dropped the bowl in the sink, took his regimented pills from the chute, and threw them into the incinerator. He then made his way across the living area and into his bedroom. Once inside, he changed out of his armor and threw himself into bed. It had been a long, tiring day. In no time at all he was sleeping.

  ****

  A piercing alarm sounded inside the dark room, cutting through the silence like a knife. A red light flickered on and off in the corner above the doorway. Patrick sprung out of bed and hurried to get his armor on. It was some time in the middle of the night. His team had been called in for an extraction. He hurried out into his living area, grabbed his helmet and gun and proceeded out of the door and down the stairs to the main hall. His other team members followed shortly behind him. They moved to a monitor hanging on the wall in the middle of the hallway. A line read, Squad 7C - Extract - Quarter 48E - Treason, Conspiracy. The team hurried out to the garage connected to their barracks, hopped inside a small Humvee, and sped out into the night. There was a sense of anticipation as the adrenaline rushed through Patrick’s body. This was not a routine thing that had happened in the grid since the implementation of the pills. Patrick himself had not taken part in an extraction before and wasn't sure what to expect. He also wasn't sure if the other men on his team had been involved in one either, but they were most likely taking their regimented daily pills, leaving him unsure of what to expect when they arrived.

  After navigating quickly down the given street they arrived at living quarter 48E. The other two members of Patrick’s team hopped out of the vehicle, strapped their weapons over their shoulders and headed toward the door. Almost as soon as they had approached it, they had stormed into the room and were lunging towards a middle aged looking man who had been sleeping in his bed. In a state of shock and panic he rolled himself up against the wall and put his hands out in a defensive position against the approaching men. He was grabbed by the arms, thrown onto the ground, and kicked into the middle of the room. Patrick had been standing by the door keeping his eyes on the street. He didn't look into the room as the man yelled and grunted with the blows inflicted upon him. He tried to put his mind elsewhere, thinking of something, anything to block out the noise coming from behind him. The two men passed through the doorway dragging the beaten man behind them. They threw him into the back of the Humvee and one of them said, "Come on Patrick, let's move!"

  He looked at his squad member and motioned for quiet, then said, "Hang on, I think I saw someone run back through that alley. Stay here, I'll make sure."

  He quickly made his way across the street and into the alley between quarters 49F and 50F. A few steps in, he checked behind him to make sure his teammates were still by the Humvee, and he quickly buried an EMP device in the ground. After a short time he ran back to the Humvee and jumped into the front seat.

  "Did you find anyone?" one of his teammates asked.

  "Negative, it must have been the darkness playing tricks on my eyes," Patrick replied.

  The other Guardian jumped in and said, "Then let's get this traitor back to the barracks."

  The Humvee sped off back down the street towards their barracks. Patrick felt uneasy, he didn't know what was going to happen to the man when they got him back there. It was the first time he’d ever had to do anything like this. Other teams had been called out a handful of times before, but never his. He wanted desperately to help the man somehow, but couldn't do it safely or discretely. He kept his focus on the people he could potentially help in the future. The Humvee pulled into the garage and the Guardians dragged the man, who had been silent the whole ride, from the back seat and into the compound. They took him down to the end of a long tunnel at the back end of the garage into a small concrete room with no windows. There was an old metal chair in the middle of the room. The man was thrown in by both arms and the door was slammed shut behind him. The room was pitch black until a small flickering light in the middle was turned on. One of the officers of the grid had been called in from his quarters to question the man. He was a short, stocky man with close-cut white hair. He walked around the room with an air of haughtiness, his long white coat flittering as it came into contact with his shins. He turned his gaze on the quivering man in the chair and said, "Did you really think you could outwit us? You can't beat us. You may as well talk now and save yourself from the pain we can inflict on you."

  The man made no reply, only stared solemnly toward the ground.

  "You know we have ways of making you talk. Now, I don't want to have to resort to them, but I will if you give me no other choice."

  The beaten man began to slowly tap his left foot on the ground, almost as if indicating he was going to hold on for as long as he could.

  "Very well. Bring in the tools!"

  A Guardian who had been standing outside the room wheeled in a small metal tray with sharp objects on it. Patrick caught a glimpse of them and thought, ‘What sick mind crafted these things?’ As the tray was placed next to the officer the man in the chair set his eyes on the objects.

  Almost immediately his manner changed and he began pleading, "No please! I'll tell you whatever you want! I'll stop telling the others not to take their pills! I'll start taking mine again! I'll do anything you want!"

  And with that the tray was taken from the room, the man now sobbing on his hands and knees in the middle of the concrete floor. The short stocky officer let out a snort of derision and asked, "Why did you stop taking your pills?"

  "A man stopped me in the hallway at the Department one day. I had never met him before, I don't know his name, he works down the hall from my lab in the department. I think he’s a chemist. Not long ago, maybe a winter or two, he told me not to take the red pills that had just begun circulating through the grid. He told me to tell as many people as I could, to tell them that the pills would destroy them."

  The officer asked, "What did this man look like?"

  "He was quite tall...and uh...he had long gray hair...and...that's all I can remember. I swear, that's all I did, I didn't mean to betray you! Please let me go back, I'll start taking my pills, I swear!"

  The short man slowly paced back and forth several times, walked over to the man, patted him on the shoulders and said, "Good boy."

  He then walked out of the doorway, down the hall and said to one of the Guardians who was standing there, “Call the Reassignment team. I want this man … Brian, taken away before dawn. Bring in another machinist to replace him at his station for tomorrow."

  ****

  Patrick made his way slowly back up the stairs to his room, the images of the night’s events replaying through his head. He took off his helmet, removed the weapon from his shoulder and walked into his bedroom. He slowly headed to his bed, removed his armor and threw the pieces onto the ground. Slowly he lowered himself into his bed and lay down. It wasn't going to be so easy to fall asleep this time.

  2.1 (Beyond)

  The sun had finally begun to burn through the foggy summer morning sky. Caleb had been crawling very slowly through the underbrush away from the grid for quite a while now. He hadn't anticipated that there would have been such a long span of shrubs and bushes just beyond the fence. Every inch he progressed was an act of defiance against the authorities. He felt invincible, like nothing that could happen to him from this point on had the ability to faze him. He was filled with excitement for what awaited him at the end of the underbrush, even though he had never seen anything beyond the fence before. He didn't care, anything that was outside of those fences and barbed wire was going to be better.

  Finally by mid-afternoon, one last push through the branches and he spilled out over a small mound of land, and rolled out into an open plain. The sun was beating down upon him, and he lay there in the tall grass soaking in the rays as they poured over his body. He smiled and let out a great sigh of relief. His arm was still b
leeding. The cut wasn't too deep, but he still needed to keep the pressure from his lab coat over the wound. Caleb could hear a gently blowing breeze move through the tall grass that stood up to about his knees, and a flock of birds were singing songs just for him off in the distance. He stood up and looked in the direction opposite the ledge he had just rolled down. There was a dense wooded area at the end of the field, and the tree line ran as far as he could see in either direction from where he stood. Off to his right he could see a small road cut through the field heading into and out of the grid, but he still couldn't see the grid itself from where he was. He checked the front pocket of his uniform for the EMP device, and when he found it still in place he began his walk toward the trees.

  It had become dusk since the time Caleb had entered the forest. He had been trying to walk in a straight line away from the grid, but after he had lost sight of the tree line he couldn't be sure which way he was travelling. He was using the sun as a reference point as it glimmered through the small gaps in the tops of the trees. He eventually came across an area in the forest where there had been a small dirt path woven through, and he decided to follow it. Just before the sun set completely, he came to a spot where the forest was coming to an end. He cautiously inched his way toward the opening to get a look at what was beyond. Slowly he pressed forward. Every branch he stepped on sounded like gunfire going off all around him, leaving him exposed. For the first time since he had left the grid he felt the slightest sense of nervousness. The initial euphoria from the events of the day was beginning to wear off. He realized that he was becoming tired and hungry. Hunger was something new to him. He had always been kept satiated with the nutrient pills given out inside of the grid. He decided to drink some water, and ended up finishing off an entire bottle. As he pushed through the last set of branches hanging over the narrow dirt path, he peered out to find that he was on the edge of a steady sloping hillside heading down into a half destroyed town.