Heirloom

I was growing tiresome, but aside from there being a few hours of daylight left, this forest was full of bare snags that didn't provide much cover, and R.I.S.E. was not known for giving up on a hunt. About a mile to the East of here, there is a creek that still flows through this once-thriving forest. As tempting as it is to set up camp closer to the creek, I am certain that is exactly where they will be looking for me. My best chance at surviving through the night is staying to the West and hoping to find some cover before nightfall.

It was both a blessing and a curse that I didn't have much to carry with me. My few possessions consist of an old chunk of PVC, which I use to store water in, a knapsack full of a few clothes, a knife which my brother had given me, and a locket which once belonged to my mother. Life was much easier when my brother was with me. He was always a survivalist, almost as if he was born for this. He gave me the knife as a gift, even joked when he handed it to me, "Just try not to cut yourself with it". Of course, naturally, I sliced my finger using it for the first time when learning to skin a rabbit. After examining the wound, and determining it to be mostly superficial, he gave me some ointment and said "Now it's officially yours", as if I just completed some rite of passage or something. It was probably something our dad told him when he was given the knife. It was only a week ago, during a raid, when my brother and I had gotten separated. R.I.S.E. was searching for any outlanders and I ended up going off trail and fell down a hillside. I haven't seen my brother since.

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At the edge of the dry, dying forest, there was an old civilization. Mostly just piles of rubble and twisted asphalt now, but yet, few walls still remained intact. Outlanders would typically take temporary refuge in broken cities like this one. Despite once being a busy metropolis, it was nearly silent now. Warships hovered over the forest, most likely following the creek searching for any outlanders looking to quench their thirst. Beyond the fallen city, a R.I.S.E. tower stood tall in the distance. The Republican Integration of Society and Economics once promised to bring the world together for all nations to live in harmony. Some believe there is still hope after the great fallout. But the outlanders believe that R.I.S.E. only wishes to monopolize what remains of this world for capital gains. I'm not certain of the truth entirely. I've been running and hiding my entire life. Fighting them would be a fool's errand.

Dusk was approaching, and without the city lights, the sky was black and the stars were more beautiful than your mind could conceive. I pulled a sheet from my knapsack to keep from freezing overnight. Starting a fire was too risky. Before shutting my eyes, I pulled my mother's locket from underneath my shirt. It was a tarnished bronze, heart-shaped locket with Celtic etchings on the surface. Inside the locket, was a tattered, old picture. My grandmother, smiling at the camera, was holding my mother in her lap. My mother was just a baby at the time this photo was taken. I was maybe her age when I last saw her. I wish I could remember her face. For as long as I can remember, my brother was always the one who had raised me. I tucked away the locket, and gripping my brothers old pocket knife, laid my head down and tried to sleep. My stomach growled. Maybe I can find something to eat in the morning.

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I woke up kicking and flailing. Someone had grabbed my ankles and pulled me out of the debris. Did they think I was trapped in there? No. As my eyes began to adjust to the morning light, I could see five of six men, all in uniform. Their helmets were equipped with respiration filters and their Kevlar suits were painted white and polished. These men were not outlanders.

I was too weak, and too tired to fight. Somewhere in the middle of my flurry, I had dropped my only weapon I had. Not that it would do much. The knife was mostly good for just carving wood or skinning rodents. I was alone and helpless. I had been caught at my weakest moment. "What do you want from me!?", I screamed in mild confusion. They didn't answer me. Instead, they tied my hands behind my back and injected me with some kind of serum. The world started spinning around me. I heard a distant voice giving orders, "Bring her to me!" My breathing became loud and everything was getting dark. My body collapsed to the ground, but I felt nothing. Was this the end?

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I woke up to the smell of mold and blood. I was tied to a chair in what appeared to be a dungeon. One hanging light was centered above me and there was a spiral stairway that only went up. Wherever I am now, is probably the closest I've ever been to hell. I glanced around the room, trying to get a sense of my surroundings, to find that I was not alone. A man, buried in the shadows, kept silent, and started towards the stairwell after seeing that I had regained consciousness. Shortly after, he returned, but not alone. A woman accompanied him down the stairs, posed in formal wear, with her face dolled up like an old Hollywood movie star. She continued to stride towards me with several ounces of authority in her step. Once she made it underneath the light, she leaned over me, placing her hands around my tied-up wrists, and glanced me over. She smelled like a mixture spring-bloom flowers and wild berries, both of which haven't been seen on this planet in years. She took a few steps back, collected herself, and started to pace the room.

"I don't want you to be startled little girl. You see, I have brought you here today to present to you an opportunity." She paused to look at me, waiting to see if I had any immediate response. But I said nothing. "What I am offering you, very few people have rejected. It's simple, really. I want you to work for me. You see, you have your whole life ahead of you. Here at R.I.S.E., we can help you make the most of it. No more dwelling on the bottom, feeding from scraps and carcasses. I am offering you a life where you could serve a higher purpose, and be the best version of yourself."

"The best version of myself!? You don't know who I am. Who are you to think you can change me? I am not some piece of property for you to landscape."

"Just hear her out." The man finally spoke from the shadows. His voice froze me in my seat. Hate and sorrow coursed through me. My hate for R.I.S.E. and what they have done, and sorrow for my brother, for what they've made him become. He stepped closer to the light, and let me gaze upon him. He looked healthy. He didn't appear to be injured in any way. But all the while, he didn't seem to be himself anymore. He always used to smile when he looked at me, but that was gone. His voice was stern and he looked and sounded more like a soldier than the brother I once knew.

"What did they do to you? This isn't who you are." My voice began to crack as my eyes began to water. Was he the one who came for me this morning? If so, why didn't he come alone so we could run away together and live the life we had? We didn't have much, but we had each other, and we were happy. Or was his happiness just some sort of front to make me feel better? I don't know, but whatever the case, the man in front of me was no longer the brother I once knew.

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"There are two types of people who survived the fallout; those of us here at R.I.S.E. who have unlocked the secrets to humanity, and cockroaches. The outlanders are the scum of the Earth. But there are options, we can change who they are and let them join us as we rise to new heights and create a world better than it ever was before. Or, we could simply, exterminate them. The future of your life depends on the next decision you make. What say you? Are you ready to rise, or will you fall?"

"I would never choose to be anything like you! You are sick, demented, and have no remorse for all of the people you have killed."

"Then you have made your choice. Kill her!"

My brother reached behind his back and pulled out a Colt revolver. He took a few fast strides towards me and pressed the barrel to my forehead.

"How can you do this?" I cried out, tears falling from my cheek onto my lap. I looked into his eyes, and they were watering up as well, from the cold barrel, I could feel his hands beginning to shake. "You are my big brother. You raised me ever since I was a little girl. All we have is each other. Is this really who you have become?"

His finger eased off of the trigger, and he gulped. His eyes grew fierce, as if he was fighting a conflict within himself. Then, at last, he lowered the gun and took a step back. "I can't do it," he said. "You can't have me kill my own sister."

"Very well, then."

as quickly as the words were spoken, there was a bright flash. I saw blood on my arms and on my clothes. But it wasn't my blood. My brothers body fell to the floor like a puppet whose strings were just cut. I sat there, speechless.

"A soldier who can't take orders is not a soldier. I guess I have to take care of this one myself."

The woman turned her gun towards me, and for the second time, I didn't even hear the shot. There was only a flash, then a burn was growing in my chest. I wasn't sure if it was because my heart was suddenly full of pure hatred towards her, or my heart felt the absence of my brother. Maybe, it was simply because there was now a bullet in my chest. Or perhaps it was all of the above. My body began to lean to one side, and I fell over with the chair.

I opened my eyes, and in front of me, laying in a pool of my own blood, my mother's locket had opened up, and once again, for the last time, I looked at the old picture of my mother and her mother. The woman walked up to me, kneeled beside me, and reached for the locket.

"Where did you get this from?" the woman asked, as though she had seen this locket before.

"I've had it... my whole life." I struggled to respond, running out of breath, and blood.

"So all this time, I've never imagined." The woman began to cry. "I thought you were dead!"

It was all beginning to piece together now.

"And your bru... your brother... my son." She lost all composure. "Please forgive me, I never had a choice."

"We always have a choice. You gave me mine."