Shoot first, ask questions later

I was so young when everything happened that it almost doesn't even seem real. Everyone that I've talked to that remembers that day always says the same thing, just in different ways- "No one saw it coming." People dying left and right, screeching in agony from something that no one could see or hear. To this day there still is no explanation. All we are told is that there's "something in the air" and that if you leave this place you're sure to succumb to whatever killed those people all those years ago.

But that was when people spoke to me. Before they found out I had come to the foxhole alone. No family or friends to care for me. An orphan. I have no recollection of what my parents' faces looked like. Or if I even had any to begin with. No memories of school or friends. What the sky looked like on a scorching summer's day. Nothing. My earliest memory is being shoved into Sector F, the lowest of all six Sectors, and being forced to eat the scraps of what the people before us didn't want. That was 12 years ago now. Nothing has changed since then, but I can sure as hell tell things are about to.

"There's no way we're ever going to get past the guards. There's too many of them at any given moment!" I can hear them from my bed. I think that it's 2 am. At least that's what the clock on the wall is telling me.

"It's now or never Colby. Don't you think it's finally time to see if Albert was telling the truth after all this time?"

Hearing that name sparks something in me and I strain my ears to hear more clearly.

"I don't think I feel comfortable risking my life on the words of some deranged old man. I mean where is he now? Probably killed from the outside because he shouldn't have gone in the first place."

Albert was the only person who ever questioned why we were here and what it was that the wardens didn't want us to know about. Even went as far as saying that they were being deceitful and that the outside world was safe and ready to be lived in again. Making claims that he had somehow seen it with his own eyes. But that was before he disappeared about a month ago, leaving all of his belongings behind. When the wardens come to do their daily head checks, with scraps and water in hand, they never seem to be bothered by his absence. Which is suspicious to say the least.

"I'm in." I'm at the foot of their beds before either of them can say another word. Regret quickly trickles into my being because I know that I've made a major mistake.

"Oh please. Do you really think that we'd ever let someone like you join in on something as serious as this? We'd really be dead then!" I can't see colbys eyes all that well, but I can tell by his voice that they’re filled with hatred. And it's directed towards me.

Before he can finish I'm already headed back to my bed. Feeling defeated. And a little foolish.

"Wait, don't go." I turn back to see Milo patting his bed, signaling for me to take a seat next to him.

"What's your name and what makes you think you would want to do something like this?"

At this point I'm extremely grateful for the lights to be out. My temperature is swiftly beginning to rise and I know my cheeks are as red as a rose. I've never had a real conversation with Milo but he's the only one in this whole place that's ever shown me an ounce of kindness. And I've kind of had a crush on him because of it.

"Opal," I say, with a crack in my voice. "Life inside these walls hasn't been all that great for me. There has to be more than this out there. Anything would be better than this.”

I can see the outline of Colbys body getting tense with every word I speak. "Bro this is a suicide mission. Say we do get past the guards and out those big metal doors. We don't know for sure that the outside is safe."

Milo sits and thinks for a second before finally saying, "If you're too worried to try with me that's okay. Opal and I will take our chances with or without your company."

Feeling Colbys rage turn into embarrassment is giving me a sense of comfort. I can tell that he doesn't want to be upstaged by a girl. Let alone the weirdo who talks to no one but herself everyday.

"Fine. But if any shit goes wrong just know that I'm leaving your ass to rot the first chance I get."

And it was settled. We were leaving within the hour. I have to have my things packed and ready to go or else I'll be left behind. Which is easy enough considering I only own two t-shirts, a pair of jeans, and the blanket on my bed. We're headed out into land that hasn't been touched in god knows how long. With no food or water........Which leads me to believe this might not be such a great idea after all.

******

The clock now reads 3:05 am. Were all huddled in one small group. Milo, Colby, and two new girls I never cared to remember the names of. My worry has now morphed into excitement realizing that I'll be rid of this place for good. And if anything goes wrong, at least I won't be confined to a place thats caused me so much misery. Right?

We venture out of the barracks into a dimly lit hallway. There are no guards like there should be. The big metal doors are still there as promised, looking much larger than any of us could have imagined.

“Well that's a bit different,” I think to myself

“I don't like the feeling of this. Where are all the guards? They never miss a night guarding those doors,” says Colby, standing behind everyone like a child behind his mother.

“You're welcome to stay behind Colby,” Milo snarls back. And that's the end of that conversation.

We've made it to the doors with no problem at all. Silence fills the space as we stand frozen in place, waiting for someone to make a move.

“Well? What are we waiting for fellas,” says one of the girls. Her hand reaches out, unlocking the various locks made to keep even the most skilled burglars out. She looks back one last time and smiles at us before finally pushing the doors open with all of her might. Before we know it, the hallway is filled with flashing red lights and an alarm that is both beautiful and merciless. My heart is beating out of my chest as I utter the words I know were all thinking,

“Run.”

It takes us all of 10 minutes to scurry from the line of sight of the Foxhole. No one is following us. Maybe because no one in their right mind ever would. But being out here for this long puts a thought into my head, “Albert was right all along.” I can tell everyone else is feeling the same way judging by the looks on their faces.

“We need to find shelter. Maybe food and water will come with it." Milo says. The last of what is said before we stumble upon an enormous brown sign that reads “Welcome! Pigeon Forge, Family vacation hub!”

“I guess this means we're in Tennessee. I remember seeing this as one of the towns on that old stained map Albert used to have stashed under his pillow,” Colby says with enthusiasm in his voice. Milo and I lock eyes and I can tell he's also shocked by Colbys change of tone. Now I know for certain this all wasn't for nothing.

We walk for what seems like miles, passing house after house, our legs growing tired with each step. Each one is run down and uninhabitable by the looks of it. That is until I finally see a twinkling in the distance. Something magnetic begins to draw me in, and without speaking a word to anyone I'm running full sprint towards it. Everyone quickly follows suit, screaming at me while they do it. Nothing they're saying is making any sense to me. The only thing I care about is making it to the light.

One of the girls immediately shoves me when she catches up. But whatever she has to say is quickly out of her mind when she sees what I see. Five feet in front of us is a house. And it's not just any house. There are marigolds hanging in pots from the ceiling of the porch, fully alive. The paint on the outside seems to be in great condition, like someone had just done it the night before. There's a garden in the front yard filled with vegetables. And even stranger? The lights are on. Green ones to be exact.

When I know everyones made it, I put one foot in front of the other, guiding the way.

“Wait,” Milo says, with a concerned look on his face. “We don't know who this house belongs to and we also have nothing to defend ourselves with.” This makes me freeze with hesitation. This doesn't sound like Milo. Hearing the smidge of fear in his voice puts some into mine.

“I know all of those things, but we have to at least try. What if it's Albert in this house? I'm sure he'll be so delighted to see us,” I say. But I don't entirely believe all of the words I'm speaking.

I knock on the door three times with no answer before trying the door knob. And it's unlocked. The first thing I'm greeted with is what seems to be the living room. Two brown couches face each other with a little white coffee table between them. Pictures line every inch of the walls. It looks like a family lived here once.

Everyonce spreads out to search quietly, leaving me in the living room by myself. It looks like the light isn't from a lantern like I first thought. There's actual electricity.

I take a seat on the couch, feeling the softness of it on my back. Feeling relieved. My attention is immediately drawn to a fireplace that also has pictures on it. Getting up to take a look, I'm immediately stunned by how good-looking the people are. All of the great memories they must have had just sitting here waiting to be found.

One picture in particular catches my eye. There's something in it that I recognize. Something that makes my heart drop down to my feet. Now I'm clutching my neck, scrambling for the heart shaped locket I've worn for the last 12 years, opening it up and shakily doing a side by side. There I am, or what I've always assumed to be me, in the arms of a beautiful young woman. We're surrounded by what I assume is the rest of my family. Everyone looks so happy. Everyone looks safe. The only part of the picture I have in the locket is of me as a baby. I never knew there was more to the story.

The thunderous sound of a gun being loaded comes from directly behind me. Spinning around, I'm met with the barrel of a shotgun staring straight into my soul. At the end of it? The same woman in the photo, just now with grey hairs and sagging skin. Still just as beautiful as she was in the picture I still hold in my hands.

My joy is blasting through the roof, but that's swiftly met with dread. Or should I say, nothing at all.

“Mom It-.”