When They Came

by Kody Boye

  “They need people to help in the fields—”

  “But they also need people to guard the walls,” I cut in. I took hold of her hands and forced her to look me in the eyes—a feat that was nearly impossible to obtain when she was at her most vulnerable. “There’s always going to be people in the fields. There’s always going to be people in the kitchens. There’s always going to be people who want to help build machines and repair buildings and do all those other things that keep them safely inside the walls. But like it or not, there will always be people who are afraid to keep watch. That’s why we need the few who are willing to do it.”

  The shimmer of tears in her eyes had disappeared. In its place was an understanding—or, at the very least, an acceptance—that hadn’t been there before. “You’re just like your sister,” she said, tightening her hold on my hands. “And you’re both like your father—your poor, stubborn father. Down to his nose and everything.”

  “Mom!” I cried.

  She laughed—a serene sound when silence had come to fill our lives.

  “I’m not going to like it,” she said, her tone darkening and becoming serious once more, “but I’m not going to deny you anything you want to do. If you feel this will give you purpose… if you feel, in your heart, that this is what you’re meant to do… then yes. You have my blessing.”

  I wrapped my arms around her chest and fell into her embrace.

  “God help us all,” she said as she stroked my hair. “God help us all.”

  Chapter 2

  I should have slept soundly that night on the small mattress next to my mother and sister. Instead, all I could think about was what the next day would bring.

  What would happen, I wondered, when I woke up?

  What would occur, I then thought, once I walked out the front door?

  And what would transpire, I dared to question, the moment I stood in front of that recruitment officer and declared my intentions?

  I tossed and turned for much of the night, trying desperately to sleep even though my thoughts would not allow me.

  By the time the sun’s rays began to pierce through the high windows, I felt like I hadn’t slept a wink.

  “Ana Mia,” my mother said. “Wake up, Ana Mia.”

  I opened my eyes begrudgingly and stared at my mother, wanting nothing more than to retreat beneath the blankets and succumb to darkness. She was already dressed for her work in the kitchens—and like any good mother, would not have left without seeing me off.

  “Morning, Mama,” I replied, sighing as the tightness in my chest constricted my lungs and forced the exhale from my throat.

  “Are you not feeling well today?”

  “I just didn’t sleep well last night.”

  She pressed a hand to my forehead and frowned. “No temperature.”

  “I’m not sick, Mom.”

  “Ah,” my mother responded. “Nerves.”

  I nodded, unable to refuse her declaration or my feelings.

  She smiled and pressed a hand to my cheek. “Everything will be all right, Ana Mia. I promise.”

  “Thank you, Mama.”

  She leaned down, kissed my cheek, then rose and started for the bedroom door. “I fixed you a cheese sandwich,” she said. “You should at least get up and eat, even if you decide not to go today.”

  “I will. Don’t worry.”

  She smiled, bid me one final goodbye, then closed the door.

  Knowing I would be unable to sleep without feeling guilt for letting food go to waste, I rose from bed—careful not to disturb my sleeping sister, who hadn’t even bothered to change out of her uniform—and made my way into the apartment.

  As my mother had promised, a lone sandwich waited for me on the dining room table—complete with the crusts cut off. Just the way I liked it.

  I settled down, began to eat, and sighed as I looked at the nearby clock.

  At nearly eight in the morning, it wouldn’t be long before the rest of the complex woke and began their daily activities. Farmers would rise to tend the livestock, engineers would haul themselves from their beds to work on the automobiles and other weaponry, and the teachers would lug themselves into the office that had been repurposed into a school, all the while knowing today would be the last day before the graduating students would dedicate themselves to the occupation of their choice.

  The idea nearly made me sick to my stomach.

  Still, I ate, and once finished, I wiped the plate with a paper towel and water and returned it to the counter. Then I made my way into the bathroom and, with a single bottle designated for washing, cleaned myself in the tub as best as I could. I spent several moments doing this before donning a pair of jeans, a plain white T-shirt, and a denim jacket, pausing to look at myself in the mirror.

  My expression was haunted—my brown eyes scarred by a sleepless night, my thin lips pulled into a worried frown. I didn’t want to be afraid. I really didn’t. But this was the biggest decision of my life. I couldn’t just look in the mirror with confidence, not when so many doubts and fears ran through my brain.

  After taking a moment to prepare myself for the day, I walked out of the bathroom, then leaned in to check on my sister—who, still sleeping, could have cared less about the world or the events taking place within it.

  “Wish me luck,” I whispered, then closed the door.

  Once outside the efficiency apartment, I locked up, steeled myself for what would unarguably be a stressful day, and turned to make my way toward the Midnight Guard’s recruitment office.

  As I walked, careful to avoid the people making their way to and from work, I squinted through the intensity of the Texas sun. I grimaced when I realized the jacket may have been too much on a day when the weather was likely to rise into the seventies or eighties. Still—there was a breeze. With it drifted the scent of wildflowers, of bluebonnets and dandelions and the juniper trees everyone was so allergic to. I sneezed—wishing I had an allergy pill they reserved only for the Guard or those who suffered the most—and slid my hands into my pockets as I continued to walk past the apartment buildings.

  On any other day, the weather would’ve been perfectly fine.

  Today, it felt like the world conspired against me.

  I had to keep repeating my mantra in my head.

  Stay calm. Stay cool. Stay collected.

  The Midnight Guard headquarters—located on the southern end of the complex grounds—loomed distantly.

  It wouldn’t be long before I would walk through that door and declare my life’s ambition.

  Swallowing, I balled my hands into fists at my side and tried my hardest to keep my composure.

  “Ana Mia?”

  I jumped, startled, and spun to face the speaker.

  A young black woman with beautiful blue eyes, luscious full lips and high arching brows smiled as she ran to greet me.

  “Asha?” I asked, smiling as she cleared the distance to take hold of my hands. “Oh my God! You shaved your head!”

  “I didn’t think my hair would fit in a helmet,” Asha Dawson replied, laughing as she tightened her hold on my hands. “Are you joining the Guard too?”

  “I’m going to try.”

  “Try?” She smiled. “Of course they’ll take you! I mean, your sister—”

  “Is in the Guard too. I know.”

  Asha smiled and pulled away, allowing me just enough room to admire her features in detail. She always looked pretty, and today wore the slightest smattering of lip gloss and teal eye shadow. I felt a bit naked in comparison, considering my mother and sister both owned a palette of makeup I could’ve used, but no matter. It wasn’t my looks that were going to get me into the Guard on a day like this. It was my determination.

  “You want to walk to the headquarters together?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” I replied. “Sure.”

  “So… after you?”

  I started forward and smiled as she fell into place at my side, glad to have a companion on a day when
I felt as though the entire world weighed upon my shoulders. Though I didn’t know Asha very well, considering we’d always had classes at different hours of the day, I knew her well enough to know she was a kind, easy-going girl willing to help others whenever they were in a tough spot. I’d often seen her in the fields, but had never really been able to talk to her. She’d always been too far away, too busy, too involved with her own work during elective hours. It was hard enough getting outside during the day to work with the animals, but actually talking with someone? That was a nightmare.

  “So,” Asha said, drawing the word out to bring my attention to her. “Mr. He’s speech yesterday…”

  “Was pretty scary?” I asked with a sigh. “Yeah. It was.”

  “I’m sorry you had to deal with that. I know that couldn’t have been easy.”

  “Thank you.” I looked up to face her. “It… just gives me reason to sign up, you know?”

  “Is that why your sister signed up, you think?”

  “Xio doesn’t talk about it much.”

  “I don’t blame her,” Asha said.

  With a sigh, I reached up and fingered the locket with our family picture inside it—trying, without success, to not show emotion in the shadow of what was unarguably my greatest adversary. A single tear slid down my face as I thought of that day all those years ago, and I grimaced when I felt Asha’s hand upon my shoulder.

  “He’d be proud, you know?”

  “I know.” I said, trying my hardest not to imagine my father being lifted into one of the Harvester ships in a beam of light. “It’s just… so clear in my mind, is all.”

  “I understand.” She wrapped me in a one-armed hug and turned to face the Midnight Guard’s Headquarters. “So,” she said, glancing from me, to the Midnight Guard armory, then back again. “Are you ready for this?”

  “As ready as I’ll ever be,” I replied.

  With that said, Asha stepped forward, opened the door, and waited for me to enter.

  I did so without hesitation.

  As she walked in behind me, I turned my attention to the apartment that had been converted into a small armory and tried, without success, not to falter. Cordoned off by a mesh wall, the place was as impressive as it was intimidating. Rows upon rows of guns lined the walls, and shelves stacked with armor and ammunition extended from one end of the efficiency apartment to the other. The guardsman standing behind the mesh—stooped over the kitchen island counting bullets and loading them into a series of bandoliers—lifted his head as one of his companions grunted. He stepped forward to face me and Asha from behind the mesh wall. “Ladies,” he said.

  “Sir,” Asha and I both replied, as if the respect had already been ingrained within our blood.

  “What can I do for you today?”

  “We’re here to join the Guard, sir.”

  “Aaah. New recruits. I was wondering when more of you would show up.” The guard settled down at the desk opposite the mesh and flipped open an impressive booklet. It held scores of lines, signatures and apartment numbers I knew belonged to members of the Guard. “I don’t need to tell the two of you how important a task you’re signing up for.”

  “No sir,” I replied, to which Asha followed with a nod. “We understand.”

  “You also understand that, by signing your names on these solid lines, you are dedicating yourself to the Guard and will not be relieved unless you are found incompetent or until your death.”

  “We understand,” Asha said.

  “All right then. If you would come forward and sign your names—” he riffled through the book until he came upon a different section which was filled with far fewer names “—here, then I can register you for your physicals.”

  Asha was the first to step forward and take the offered pen. I, meanwhile, could only watch as the girl wrote her information down as carefully as possible. Then she withdrew to allow me passage to the opening in the mesh wall.

  I swallowed the growing lump in my throat and stepped forward.

  I knew, at that moment, that I could do it. I knew I could. So why was I panicking? Was it because of the finality of the decision—because after all this time, I was about to dedicate myself to the one thing I’d planned on doing for the last three years?

  I accepted the pen with trembling hands, then set its tip to paper. Ana Mia Sofia Berrios, I wrote, then faltered a moment as it came time to write my apartment number down.

  “Miss?” the man behind the mesh asked.

  “Sorry,” I said, scribbling the number down in but a moment’s notice. “I had a moment.”

  “You’re Marisol Berrios’ daughter, aren’t you?”

  “Yes sir,” I replied. “I am.”

  “You and your sister do your father’s memory proud by serving in the Guard. I hope you understand that.”

  “I do,” I said, then relinquished hold of the pen.

  The man nodded as he took note of the signatures and closed the book with a thud. “You’ll be required to submit to a physical in the coming days,” the man said, “as well as a psychological evaluation to ensure you are stable enough to perform the required tasks. Should you be deemed fit, you will begin training, which will require you to be at your peak physical condition. Do you understand what I have told you?”

  “Yes sir,” I said.

  “We’ll learn how to shoot,” Asha said. “Right?”

  “You will,” he replied. “Among other things. Now run along. It looks like we have another recruit.”

  A young white man I knew as Jason Parks walked in, his chestnut hair and brown eyes accentuating the determined look on his handsome yet scarred face. “Ana,” he said.

  “Jason,” I replied.

  We exchanged glances for a few short moments before Asha beckoned me out the doorway.

  As I walked out, I sighed my relief and closed my eyes.

  I’d finally done what I set out to do.

  My only doubts happened to lay in what came next.

  “How did it go?” Xiomara asked when I returned home later that morning.

  “It went… fine,” I said, watching as my sister meandered about the apartment, eating a small portion of dry cereal from a bowl that couldn’t have possibly filled anyone up. “Are you sure that’s all you’re going to eat?”

  “I’m fine,” she replied, undoubtedly code for: shut up and mind your own business.

  Nodding, I settled down in a chair at the table and reached up to run my hand through my long dark hair. “You think they’ll ask me to cut my hair?” I asked.

  “I don’t see why they would.”

  “It’s just… I ran into another girl who’d shaved her head because she thought her hair wouldn’t fit into her helmet.”

  “They leave that up to you in the Guard. But honestly, if you asked me, I’d cut it down, at least a little bit.”

  “But I like my hair.”

  “I know. It’s gorgeous, Sis. But your head is prettier attached to your shoulders. You don’t want a Coyote ripping it off.”

  I grimaced as the image of the yellow-eyed, phantom-like creature entered my thoughts.

  “Mia?” Xiomara asked, pausing as she came to sit beside me. “Are you okay?”

  “I have no idea how I’m going to pass the psych test,” I replied. “I’m so screwed in the head.”

  “I think the only reason you wouldn’t pass is if they thought you’d lose it out in the field, or while you were holding a gun.”

  “Who’s to say I won’t?”

  “I saw the same things you did and I haven’t lost it.”

  But you were older, I wanted to say, but kept my mouth shut. Instead, I watched my sister as she continued to eat her cereal. She was always like that—minimizing the way I felt and the way I processed the things around me differently than she did. I couldn’t blame her, though. I mean, I understood it, in theory, but just because she wasn’t as affected by our father’s death—or at least if she was, she didn’t show it—didn’t
mean I had to be just like her.

  After taking a moment to finish the cereal, Xiomara stood and was about to turn and make her way into the kitchen. She stopped to look at me once more.

  “Look,” Xiomara said, setting the bowl aside before reaching out to take hold of my shoulders. “You’re going to be just fine. The physical test is easy. And the psych? You’ll nail it. Just keep your cool, try not to freak out, and be honest about the things you’re feeling. We all have a little PTSD after everything we’ve been through.”

  “I know, but still.”

  “But still nothing.” She smiled. “You’ll do just fine.”

  I nodded and tried to take her words to heart, but for some reason couldn’t.

  I knew I wasn’t crazy—not like some people, who had seen things I could only begin to imagine—but sometimes, I sure felt like it. Especially after waking up from the nightmares.

  A knock came at the door, startling me from thought.

  “Were you expecting anyone?” Xiomara asked as she made her way toward the door.

  “No,” I replied, then frowned. “Unless… well… my physical.”

  “I don’t think they’d get you in that soon,” my sister said as she approached the doorway. “I mean, it took days for them to get to me, so I don’t see why you would be any differ—”

  She paused as she looked through the porthole, then frowned when she pulled her head back.

  “What?” I asked, standing. “Who is it?”

  “A doctor.”

  She leaned forward, undid both the lock and the deadbolt, then opened the door to face the woman—who, in her long blue scrubs and with her clipboard, appeared every bit the professional. “Hello,” the woman said. “My name is Doctor Helen Parish. I’m here to see a… Ana Mia Berrios?”

  “That’s me,” I said.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Ana.”

  “It’s nice to meet you too.”