by Jeff Olah
She let out a delayed sigh. “My name is Chloe. Those men took my mom; there is no one left. They took them all this time.”
He told himself she was in shock, partially from what had just happened and also from the rapidly decreasing temperature. “Chloe, we need to get going. It’s going to get very cold soon, and once night comes… well we just need to get inside soon.”
He helped Chloe gather her things and toss them into her backpack. Turning back toward the tracks, something caught his eye, and as he moved closer it became clear. One of the men who’d exited the transport drone must have returned without his weapon. Rath clutched the baton and was surprised at the weight. For something with only half the mass of his pipe, the power it packed was something that would be useful in getting back to his wife.
Moving back to the scout drone alongside the tracks, Rath returned to finish what he’d begun minutes before. Removing the remaining pieces that shielded what he was after, he unlatched the device and depressed the unit, watching it spring from its home. With the intricate piece of technology still illuminated, he wrapped it in a dry cloth and carefully placed it between the items at the top of his pack. Scanning the area for anything he may have missed, he called to the girl now sitting at the base of the bridge. “Let’s go.”
The rigidity he’d felt upon waking along the tracks began to dissipate with each step. The sun disappeared as fast as it had come and he squinted through the snowfall, expecting to see their destination off in the distance. He torqued his neck side to side and moved both arms in circles, slowly flushing the stiffness from his wrecked muscles. He smiled through the soreness as he watched the girl, now five paces ahead, begin to mimic his movements. They followed the tracks for what he felt was much more than a mile, and every few minutes Chloe turned to look back the way they’d come.
Rath assumed his internal odometer was off and increased his pace. Catching and overtaking Chloe, he nodded in the direction of the upcoming bridge and began to jog. She followed his lead and as they continued to move, their pace quickened with each passing minute. His lungs began to burn, although it had nothing to do with the exertion they were under. Familiar black smoke lifted above the distant treeline as the reality of their situation began to take shape.
She recognized the outcropping of scorched trees and the downed gate a hundred yards ahead. Chloe stopped running and yelled something into the storm as Rath began to sprint, withdrawing his weapon as he stepped over the fallen oak branches. Stopping at what was left of the entrance to District Two, Rath turned to find he’d lost his co-pilot.
She sat along the narrow path between two large oaks with her head in her hands. As he made his way back to her, she was already wiping the tears away and brushing the frozen mist off of her sleeves. She took his hand, stood and without either saying a word, made a wide arc around the front of the deserted village.
Weapon in one hand and Chloe holding tight to the other, Rath lead them through the gates and into the interior. The events that took place here couldn’t compete with the realization of what this meant. The resources and people that lived behind these walls were the intended target of the transport drone that also had taken his wife and the mother of the child holding his hand.
Then it hit him. This was her home.
Fifty feet in and the District’s main building sat in ruins, the devastation more than anything he’d yet witnessed in the two weeks he’d spent on the road with Sarah. The usually well-maintained city streets that indicated District uniformity were today littered with the bodies of those who’d fought to save their loved ones from abduction. The glow of spot fires dotted the backdrop, casting an ominous glow over the area as the pair continued on to the far end of town.
He already knew the number, although he counted as they walked, and of the twelve structures that lined the main road through town, only one stood untouched. Everyone in the area was either captured, killed, or…
Rath stopped and knelt next to the girl. “Chloe, you lived here…” He framed his words as a statement more than a question.
She was confused. “Yes?”
Even in her abbreviated answer, he could sense she wanted to tell him more. He continued, “Is this where you were running from? Were you here when they came?”
“Yes.”
He began to form his next question, when the all-too-familiar sound came from outside the District walls. The pair turned to one another, confirming what they both knew was already happening.
Gripping her hand tight and glancing back at the fallen gate, Rath said, “They’re coming… we have to hide.”
4
Her head felt like a vice was slowly clamping down and with each passing minute, the pain jumped a few notches. Disorientation had set in within minutes of lifting into the sky and the restrains that bound her wrists to the arms of the chair had already drawn blood. The cargo hold reeked of body odor and scorched skin as the black cloth was lifted from her head. She turned to see the woman to her right, slowly emerging from whatever sedation she’d been given. Blinking free of her trance, the woman quietly began to weep and through her deepened sadness, called out to her daughter.
Her vision adjusting to the darkened passenger cabin, Sarah watched as others turned to one another in bewilderment, attempting to comprehend what had taken place. Six long rows of head-high, black chairs sat back to back, all but one seat occupied. The men dressed in black, unable or unwilling, stood at ten foot intervals, refusing to make eye contact or respond in any way to the requests for explanation. The muted whispers of only minutes before began to escalate into disgruntled shouts of protest. The men in black simply continued to stand four feet from their prisoners, staring into oblivion.
A quick head count revealed that, not including the men dressed in black, the rear cabin held ninety-nine restrained passengers. There was one seat still unoccupied next to her at the end of the last row. From her vantage, Sarah could only make out the tops of the heads in the first two rows that were facing away from her. She determined there were twenty-five men and seventy-four women. The overwhelming ratio was something she feared, although she didn’t yet know why.
She closed her eyes and reached back into her mind and found the image that she’d need to get through whatever was to come. Her husband on the day they wed and the joy on his face as she made her way down the center isle of the makeshift hall the District commissioner had allowed access to. Sarah hadn’t updated her journal in the last few days, although she knew exactly what day it was. Seventeen days from today would have been ten years since she spoke the words they’d made as a couple and he said, “I DO!” Those words sat in her ears as fresh as if they’d only occurred moments before. She promised herself she’d see his face again and hear his rugged voice, knowing those thoughts would somehow have to get her through.
She calculated they’d been airborne for just over three hours as the descent began. The others must have felt it as well and chatter in the cabin began once again. Their voices echoed the thoughts she’d had since they pulled her from the snow covered hillside. Where are they taking us? Why were we chosen? Who are these people? What do they want?
Gripping the arms of the chair and pushing once more against the restraints, Sarah forced the twinge of anguish rising in her gut back down, voicing her final thought. “Rath, where are you?”
Shaken from her own grief by the unusually timed question, the woman to her right finally acknowledged Sarah’s presence, as if just now realizing she wasn’t alone. She sniffled twice as she said, “Excuse me?”
“I’m sorry; I was talking to myself, my husband—”
Unable to control her grief, the woman locked eyes with Sarah and interrupting said, “My daughter is still out there. She needs me. She won’t survive another hour in the cold. I need to get out of here, right now. I need to get back to her…PLEEEEASE!” She whipped her head back to center, addressing the man in black who wasn’t fully focused on anything in particular. She scre
amed, “LET ME OUT OF HERE, RIGHT NOW!”
The man just feet away seemed to finally acknowledge her tirade. He turned his gaze from the interior’s ceiling and looking directly into her eyes, stepped forward. He moved from his position and motioned for another man in black, much closer to the front cabin, circling his index finger above his head.
The woman, unfazed by his gesture and what it meant, continued in a slightly less aggressive manner, almost to the point of begging. “You don’t need me. I am of no use to you and my daughter is out there alone. You can’t be that heartless. Please just let me go.” She turned back to Sarah as if looking for a friend, an ally. “She’ll die out there; please tell them to help me.”
The idea of partnering with the most vocal passenger aboard whatever this flying machine was had less than an appealing ring to it. Sarah wanted to help, although she also wanted more than anything else to stay alive. Her only thoughts were of seeing him again, smelling him… feeling him. Doing what was right for this desperate woman may get her killed, even though the right thing was always what she found herself doing.
Sarah’s only option was to get her to understand their plight, to calm her and get her focused on something else, if only for the moment. As two of the men dressed in black near the forward cabin huddled around, no doubt discussing their options for the out of control passenger, Sarah leaned in and whispered to her neighbor. “What’s your name?”
As if awoken from a dream, she slowly shook her head and turned to Sarah, squinting through the confusion as she refocused her attention. “I’m sorry?”
Sarah responded immediately so as not to lose her attention to the men, now obviously at the far reaches of their tolerance. “Your name… what is your name?”
“Lauren, my name is Lauren.” Her head on a swivel, she turned back to Sarah. “I need to get out of here, can you help?”
Sarah wished her hands were free; she wanted to connect with this woman, if for no other reason than to keep her quiet. The guards or whatever these men were had already taken an adverse interest in her, and Sarah had no intention of letting their anger spill over into her lap. Looking at Lauren and back to her restricted arms, Sarah said, “Listen, I can help, although you’re going to have to stay calm.”
Lauren’s eyes narrowed and she let out a long deep breath. She bit her lower lip and attempted to restrain the fury building in her core. “My daughter, she is out there.” Looking back to the large cargo door, she continued. “She is out there in the cold by HERSELF. Can you even comprehend what I am saying?”
The men in black turned their attention back toward them once again and concluded their discussion. Two of the men moved swiftly in their direction as Sarah leaned in, once again pleading with Lauren. “I’m begging you, please lower your voice; these men are going to—”
Six chairs before reaching the women, the two guards changed direction and moved along the middle isle to another disturbance two rows away. One of the few men aboard seemed to have the same fire in his belly and decided now was the time to vocalize it. His voice carried, although over the shouts from the other passengers, all that could be made out was that he wanted off this vessel.
The first guard to arrive pulled his stun baton, adjusted something on the handle, and shoved it into the man’s forearm. Retracting it, he glanced down at the end and turned to the others, motioning for the rear door. A trail of blood dripped from the baton as the passenger clutched his arm, wincing in pain.
As the cargo door at the rear of the cabin began to lower, every eye moved to the opening and watched as their position in the sky was revealed. Through the thick cloud cover, the earth raced along below. Sarah guessed they were somewhere over the vast desert that lay somewhere outside what used to be known as Las Vegas.
The guards removed the man’s restraints, pulled him to his feet and tossed him to the floor, five feet from the opening. From his knees, the man took a few wild swings at his aggressors that flew wide as they stepped back. He struggled to stand as the first shockwave from a stun baton crippled his forward progress. The next two strikes sent him to the edge of the now horizontal door.
The largest of the three guards latched the carabineer from one end of the oversized nylon strap to the metal rung on the wall and the other to the five point harness he wore. As the man lay on his side at the edge of the opening, he clawed at the diamond plated door, attempting to right himself. The guard took two steps forward, placed his boot on the man’s torso and kicked him out of the opening at ten thousand feet.
Seated nearest the door, Sarah looked away at the sight of the man’s horrified expression as he grabbed handfuls of nothing and tumbled out into the frost bitten backdrop.
As the door began to climb back to its original position, the guard turned to face the now paralyzed crowd; he waited for final lockdown and spoke for the first time since they’d been forced aboard. His question was short and direct. “Speak now; who else wants to leave?”
5
With nightfall less than an hour off, those left for dead out in the open would attract the Andros and he needed to get Chloe as far from the area as possible. He’d witnessed firsthand the devastation wrought when these people moved through an area. They killed without thought or remorse and were much more violent than those of any other colony or district. The world they lived in was ruled without justice or obligatory laws. They were nomads, and spoke only to one another in muted and incoherent tones. They resided along the wastelands, uninhabitable by anyone else. They were also cannibals.
Her face ashen and the palms of her hands already beginning to moisten, Chloe used her free hand to point to the last home on the left side of the street. “We can hide there.”
Still attempting to assess the direction from which the horde was heading, Rath closed his eyes and let the shockwaves of the ravenous crowd move from the earth and through the soles of his boots. The force with which it reverberated his entire body, he figured the numbers to be somewhere north of fifty. He turned back to Chloe. “Can you run?”
Rigid as a rusted hinge, his first few steps were pronounced and deliberate. Chloe had a five stride lead on him by the time they reached the front yard of the home and she appeared to be accelerating. He followed her through the snow covered side yard and watched as she tore off around the stacked firewood and to the back of the home.
His legs burned and his heart raced, less from exhaustion than anticipation. Rath turned the corner and began to slow. Surprisingly, the fire in his shoulder had gone quiet and the pain along his left side antagonized him much less than minutes ago. He almost felt whole, except for the nausea settling in the pit of his stomach.
Stopped between two homes, Rath peered around the corner at the downed main gate and saw the first ten enter the interior and sprint straight for the fallen residents nearest them. This scene had played out too many times for him to assume any other outcome. They were on the bodies, fighting one another for position, and were consumed with the bounty they’d come upon.
Rath watched as two of the largest Andros he’d ever laid eyes on walked calmly through the main entrance. He estimated the smaller of the two at just over seven feet tall. These beasts were well muscled and must have weighed in excess of three hundred pounds each. They appeared to be avoiding eye contact with the others as they carried a gargantuan cast iron grill, two-inch thick handles jutting out from either end. The earth shook and fresh powder billowed away as they dropped it to the ground and pushed the others away from the bodies that they began to stack nearby.
“You’ve got to be kidding; they’re planning on setting up shop here?”
It was time to move. The crowd nearest the center of the district began to spread out in search of additional prey and from the ravenous look displayed among the crowd, Rath sensed their last meal must have been a distant memory. Turning back to check on Chloe, he was surprised to find she’d already found a place to hide and was waving him over.
The former under
ground shelter and makeshift cellar must have been used by the children of this District as their hideout. Off-centered, hand-drawn pictures hung on the wall without a care of placement or uniformity. Brightly colored plastic cups from decades past sat along the table, whose legs had been cut off to accommodate the smaller bodies of the youths of the town, and simple lesson plans were scribbled on the wall nearest the entrance. This area was obviously designed by children.
Sitting on the fourth step, Rath paused before closing and securing the hatch as Chloe paced nervously back and forth across the ten foot square room. He watched as three smaller Andros entered the side yard and moved in their direction. Sealing and double bolting the hatch, the interior lights blinked to life and he could see she’d again begun to silently cry; her heaving back told him just enough of the story.
Thirty seconds. Not enough time for anything other than a defensive posture. Eight to ten of those things out in the open and one at a time gave him pause, although with well over fifty, he’d ride this one out hidden below ground with his new friend. “Chloe… I need you to stop crying right now. I know you’re scared, but those things can hear us and we need to stay as quiet as possible, at least until they leave.”
