Patrick smiled. "Good!” he said more cheerfully, “Hopefully they will listen to you guys. I feel bad for the people inside the Sectors. What was it like for them before the Inner Circle had them relocated there?"
"It was a lot like how it is for us now. They may not have had as much land or as big of a house, but they were free to do whatever they wanted," he said, as he walked across the kitchen toward a large steel refrigerator.
"Why did the Inner Circle decide to relocate them?"
The man thought momentarily, trying to remember. "As I recall, there was an economic collapse. The Inner Circle knew it was coming, so we began to prepare the Sectors as disaster relief camps. They weren't supposed to be permanent, just until the unrest died down and things stabilized."
"Then why are there riots going on inside of them?" Patrick asked.
"I don't know. To be honest, I've never been inside of one, or even near one for that matter. My position in the Circle doesn't involve dealing with them." He took a glass bottle of freshly squeezed orange juice from the refrigerator and then took a glass from a wooden cabinet with silver handles. As he poured the juice, he continued, "Martin actually does have contact with the Sectors. He said at first it wasn't bad at all. People could do what they wanted within the confines of the compounds. They were given three meals a day in clean cafeterias, bottles of water, clothing, beds, and other things. But after the first couple of years the Inner Circle decided they were going to start managing the people's time there. They took away their clocks, calendars, watches, all those things." He looked sadly toward the floor. "Then, slowly, they started taking away their humanity."
"Oh," Patrick said with a look of pity, “What are you and Martin going to tell the council today?"
The man placed the orange juice back into the refrigerator, picked up his glass, took a sip and said, "We've been coming up with ways to bring those little comforts back to the people. The hardest part was coming up with the reasoning for it. I think Martin has come up with a great reason," he became more lively and passionate as he continued, “The Inner Circle's greatest concern is for the survival of themselves. They need the work being done inside the camps to continue so they can have the type of existence they want, despite what it means for others. What Martin is going to present are some statistics showing that the people were more productive when they had some of their freedoms." He finished his juice, looked over at a clock on the wall and said, "Oh boy Patrick, I've got to get moving,” Then continued, jokingly, “Keep yourself out of trouble here today.”
"Ok. Good luck Dad. I hope they listen to you guys."
The man let out a nervous chuckle, "Yeah, me too."
Thirty or so minutes had passed as the man walked out of the front door of his house and began walking up the street toward a massive, towering glass building. He could see the giant chrome letters evenly spaced along the top of the building, BABEL. The car he owned was parked alongside the house, but he never really used it as he was within walking distance to most anywhere he needed to go. The streets were narrow, but the surroundings were beautiful. Perfectly trimmed hedges, strategically planted trees, tall golden lampposts. He needed to stop at Martin's house on the way to meet him and quickly go over some last minute details. He had signed the finalized policy paperwork days earlier, and he was a little bit anxious about what the Inner Circle's reaction would be towards it. Lately they had been bringing up the idea to begin using the massive incinerators inside some of the sectors. Originally they had been used for burning garbage produced from the labor, but now there was a more sinister motive for them. Some of the very high ranking members wanted to start cutting down the population by getting rid of 'undesirables'. This made the man's stomach churn. How can anyone treat other people this way, like garbage? They’ve already caged them up, now they’re going to start weeding them out and think nothing of it? He pushed the horrible images that had begun to form in his mind out and tried to focus on what he had to do now.
Before he knew it he had arrived at Martin's house. It was a large brick building with vinyl siding and a high pointed roof. As he approached the front door, he knew something was wrong. There were fresh tire tracks driven straight across the front lawn that stopped near the door. The man dropped his briefcase and hid behind a nearby bush. Everything was eerily quiet. He slowly crept his way to the cement steps leading to a massive green door. He could see that the side of the door with the handle was completely destroyed. The handle was bent inward and the wood around it was completely gone, nothing but splinters hung from the side. He listened momentarily for any sound. Minutes passed. He slowly slid in through the narrow opening of the doorway, without moving the door at all. Near one of the windows he noticed a puddle of spilled orange juice with shattered glass sprinkled throughout. He walked down a long white hallway and passed into the kitchen. Across the room he could see a set of glass double doors that had been completely shattered, the glass fragments still hanging from its sides were sprinkled with blood. On the other side of the door he saw broken glass scattered all over the concrete patio with a puddle of blood in the center. The man's heart began racing. ‘Oh no … Martin! What happened?!’ he thought. A few feet beyond the blood was a briefcase that was broken open, laying on the lawn, its contents spilling out onto the bright green grass. The man ran over to it and frantically searched its contents for the signed policy paperwork. It was gone. He knew that his name was on it, Aaron Browitz. He was already dead.
Aaron sprinted from the back of Martin's house, and retraced his steps down the street. His feet beat the pavement with such force he thought he was moving the earth with every step. His heart was in his throat and he could feel it lurching up into his mouth. He stopped momentarily to throw up, but quickly started moving again. He got to the front door of his house with a sense of relief, as everything looked untouched. He didn't have much time. He burst into the front door and yelled, "Patrick! Grab your bag and your sister and get in the car!"
Patrick appeared around the corner, alarmed and confused at his father's tone of voice. "What's going on dad? What happened?"
"There's no time," Aaron said as he ran past Patrick, up the stairs to his office. As he ascended he yelled back down to Patrick, "Just do it, NOW!"
Patrick quickly disappeared down the hallway screaming, "Alice, Alice!"
Time seemed to stand still. Every second counted now. Aaron knew the few things he had to grab. He had packed a couple of backpacks with some items a few years earlier, in the event that a quick escape became necessary. As he grabbed two of them out of his closet he yelled downstairs, "Patrick, do you have her?!"
From a distance Patrick replied, "I've got her! We're heading to the car!"
Good, Aaron thought as he headed back toward the staircase. He was moving so fast he couldn't feel his feet touching the ground. He met his children out in the car and tried to start the engine. It had been a long time since he had last used it, and it wouldn’t start up.
“Come on, come on,” Aaron said under his breath, tightly gripping the steering wheel.
Finally the ignition sputtered and clicked on. Almost as soon as the car started they were around the corner on two wheels, heading out of the town. "What's going on Dad?" Patrick asked, with a surprising calmness in his voice.
Alice was on Patrick’s lap in the back seat, crying. She was only two years old.
In between long deep breaths Aaron said, "We have to get out of here. We're not safe here anymore."
Just as the car turned a corner at the end of their street, Aaron caught a glimpse of a large black Humvee barreling up the hill and onto their lawn. He drove with his foot to the floor for hours. When they had reached the spot Aaron had visited long ago with his father, he stopped the car, got the children and bags out, and sent the car over a ledge. He let it plummet down a steep mountain slope and crash into a small lake at the bottom. He turned and looked at his kids. Patrick was calmly and patiently waiting for the next move, and Ali
ce who had stopped crying, still had tears building up in her eyes as her lips quivered. Aaron picked Alice up and gave her a big hug. "It's going to be ok sweetie,” he whispered in her ear, “We're safe now."
He rested his hand on Patrick's shoulder as they disappeared into a thick forest of pine trees off the side of the road.
2.6 (Beyond)
Caleb opened his eyes and waited as they slowly came to focus on the peak of the wooden ceiling of the cabin. He looked to his left, out of the small window over the bucket of water. It was morning. He was surprised that he had been able to get any sleep that night. ‘I must have been more tired than I thought.’ From the other side of the room he heard in a quiet voice, "Well Caleb, it looks like you were able to get some sleep after all."
Caleb turned his head toward the voice. It was Aaron. He was in the exact same position he was in when Caleb last saw him, before he had fallen asleep. "Yeah. I guess I must have been pretty tired," Caleb said, as he slowly sat up on the floor. His back was somewhat stiff. The events of the past couple of days had begun to take their toll on his body. He let out a grunt as muscles pulled and twisted in his back and legs.
"You alright?" Aaron asked, as he stood up from his stool across the room and moved a few steps closer to Caleb. The shotgun was still in his hands, pointed toward the floor.
"I'm ok," Caleb replied as he stretched his arms out in front of him in an attempt to untangle the muscle that felt like it was twisted like a vine around his back, "Just a little bit sore." He nervously glanced over at the gun, then up to Aaron's face.
"You'll be fine, I'm sure. You just need a little rest." There was a long pause of silence until a rustling sound came from the bedroom door in the back corner of the cabin and Alice slowly emerged from inside.
"Good morning guys," she said as she stretched her hands over her head toward the ceiling. The sunlight cutting through the cracks of the cabin met her eyes and lit them up, the bright green color sparkling and dancing.
"Good morning Alice," Aaron said, "How did you sleep?"
"I slept fine, thanks." She looked over at Caleb and smiled. Caleb looked down briefly before returning the smile, then looked back over at Aaron who hadn't noticed the gesture. "How did you sleep out here on this rock hard floor?" she asked with the smile still on her face, recapturing Caleb's attention.
He chuckled nervously and said, "Oh, the most comfortable sleep I've had in days. Actually, you know what, the sad part is, that's kind of true." For some reason Alice made Caleb feel more comfortable, even from the moment he first saw her hiding back within the doorway of the bedroom the night before. There was something about the way she looked at him that first time. She had a tenderness in her eyes, almost as if she were trying to let him know without saying it that he was safe with her. It gave him a sense of hope that these two people were kind, not like anyone else he had met since his father had been reassigned.
"Why don't you head on out to the garden Alice. You can refill these canteens too while you're out there," Aaron said as he motioned toward three canteens sitting near the front door.
"Yes sir, Colonel!" Alice said as she walked over to the backpack that was leaning up against the wall to the left of the door. She picked it up, placed the three canteens inside, and disappeared into the forest.
There was a moment of silence as they listened to her footsteps slowly fading away in the distance. Aaron walked toward the door and closed it after the silence had set back in. "Why did she call you Colonel?" Caleb asked.
Aaron laughed. "It's kind of a joke she started a while back. She used to tell me I could be too bossy sometimes. I guess it started as a sarcastic nickname for me. To be honest, I've grown to like it. She was too young to understand back then, I only told her what she had to do for her own good. As you know, it's not pretty out there."
Caleb nodded in agreement and asked, "So … when did you want me to leave today?"
"I don't know yet Caleb. How about you help me out around here today. Maybe if you feel less sore tomorrow you can head out."
Caleb leaned his hands back behind him as if he were getting ready to stand and said, "Ok. What do you need me to do?"
Aaron pointed out through one of the windows with the gun and said, "See that stack of wood over there? I am going to need a dozen or so brought in for a fire later on when it gets dark. Then you can take the bucket of water over there down to the stream and wash it and the bowls out. Then come back with it about a quarter of the way full with fresh water. You do all that and you've earned yourself some food for tonight."
Caleb picked himself up off the floor, looked at Aaron and said, "Sure, I can do that, no problem." His legs took a moment to come back to him as he swayed from side to side in place. "Well, maybe after my legs wake up." Aaron smiled, opened the door of the cabin, walked outside and stood facing the wood pile about twenty feet away from him. Caleb slowly made his way past him, still a little bit nervous of the gun in Aaron's hand.
"Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you. Don't you think if that was my intention I would have by now?" Aaron said in a kind, calming tone of voice.
"Yeah ... I guess it's because the only people I've ever seen with guns have been the Guardians. I never knew what to expect from them. I just tried my best to be invisible around them."
Aaron walked slowly behind Caleb as he moved toward the logs. "Caleb, how exactly did you manage to get out of the 'grid'? You didn't tell me specifically last night."
"It's like I said, I just followed directions."
"Yes, but what directions. I've never heard of anyone escaping one of the Sectors before, back when I was part of the Inner Circle."
Caleb kept walking toward the logs, and when he had reached them, began picking up as many as he could. The stiffness of his back made every little movement more difficult, but he fought through it. As he turned around with five logs bundled in his arms, he saw Aaron standing a few feet away from him without the gun. He had left it leaning up against the outside of the cabin. Aaron studied his face carefully when he saw that Caleb had realized this. Caleb began to feel more comfortable and said, "Well, I can only tell you what I did to get out. I can't tell you exactly how everything fell into place, just because I don't know. My father set all of that up for me when I was younger. He was friends with one of the Guardians inside of the grid. He told me where I could find a small EMP device to turn off and remove a tracking chip that was put inside of my neck." He turned his head away from Aaron exposing the back of his neck where the chip had been implanted. There was a round burn mark surrounding a small scab. "A Guardian told me a set of directions one day on my way back from the department. I assumed that was the same one who knew my father."
"The department?" Aaron asked.
"The Department of Human Advancement. That's where they had me working. They gave me assignments in genetic manipulation mostly. Anyway, I had dug up the EMP device not long before I was given the directions. I was able to get my chip out with it and found a small area of fence and barbed wire that had been cut open along the bottom where the Guardian had told me. Then I was able to crawl through and get out."
"I see," Aaron said, "What was your father like?"
Caleb went on to tell Aaron about his father, that he had always taught him how to keep himself safe while inside of the grid. That he had taught him how to act and speak around others inside. He eventually told him about the night he was taken away by the Guardians.
"It's too bad that had to happen to him, Caleb. If I had known what the men I once called my colleagues were doing to the poor people inside of the Labor Sectors I could have tried to do something, even though I think it would have been too late. The higher ranking members of the Circle must have had this planned out from the beginning. They are arrogant, self-righteous fools, Caleb." Aaron began to get more intense as he spoke. "The only reason they live is for their own pleasure. They don't care about anyone or anything other than themselves."
Caleb had d
ropped the first load of wood inside the cabin and the two men had been standing in front of the fireplace talking for quite some time. Aaron told Caleb about the day that he, Patrick, and Alice had escaped.
"I never met my mother," Caleb said, "What happened to your wife ... Alice's mother?"
Aaron grew quiet, "She died shortly after Alice was born. There were complications with the birth, they told me."
"Oh," Caleb said, "I'm sorry."
"It's alright. It was a long time ago. Alice looks so much like her, having her around makes me feel like a small part of her is still with me too." He looked deeply into Caleb's eyes. "Caleb, there is a reason that you never met your mother. There are Fertility Sectors. Your father was probably a very intelligent man that the Inner Circle used as a donor. Everything is done artificially. Usually, once the child is born, and considered to be without defect, they aren't sent back to their father. You must have been a special case. Most times they would assign the children to specific Sectors based on their development early on."
Caleb thought for a moment and then asked, "What if they were born with defect?"
Aaron frowned and said, "They were sent to the incinerators."
2.7 (Beyond)
The cell was damp and dark. From beyond the small slit in the large steel door, Guardians yelling orders, rats squeaking and scurrying around, and the sound of hinges opening and closing could be heard. The room was ten feet by ten feet, if that, with a window high up on the back wall, almost near the ceiling. There was no bed, no food, no water, just concrete all around. An older looking man was sitting in the middle of the room, staring out through the window. On his lab coat, printed on the right flap was, 137-47A.
It was night, but through the window a full moon shining above let in a small amount of light, and flooded the area around which it shone. The man sat still and silent, gazing up at the night sky. It was clear, and he spent what he imagined to be the last few moments alive taking in the great expanse beyond earth. He traced pictures in the stars and brought himself back to the many nights he had spent in the past doing the same thing with the one he loved most. The past several seasons had been a test of will for him. Beatings, withholding of food and water, sleep deprivation and questioning was all he had known since he had arrived in this cell. The men responsible for his pain had told him that he was worth the effort of trying to bring back in line with the vision they had for him. After a while, they realized that he would never be willing to bend his knee to them and he was scheduled for reassignment. That's what this place was. A holding place for those who would be facing the ultimate penalty of treason and anarchy against the Inner Circle.
Sector 27- Assignment Page 6
