The Founders

The air was filled with dust and debris. She could not see where she was going, constantly tripping over something or another. Each breath felt like her lungs were being accosted, and her eyes were burning from the grit invading her eyelids. Trinity trips over another pile of rubble, landing on her hands and knees. Amazingly she spots something under her left hand below a layer of dust and pebbles.

She wipes away the layer of dust to reveal a locket. She leans back on her heels kneeling in the fine particles, she picks it up and brushes it off with the hem of her already filthy shirt. She discovers it is gold with the letters R.R. engraved on the back. She settles further back upon her heels, relaxing her feet to mourn the soul she never knew. How the necklace came to be in her path she did not know but she just had to keep it.

Trinity was not sure how long she sat in the grime, but when she looked up the dust in the air had begun to settle. She could see the silhouette of others in the distance. She tucked the locket in the pocket of her shorts and stood. She did not know if these were the people who created the destruction or other survivors. She stood and began to walk to them with more courage than she felt stumbling the entire way.

She awoke with a start, as she usually did after having a dream of the life altering day ten years ago. Her life had diminished from what it was. She now relies on people who do not care for her or her life. They look at her as an inconvenience that can at times come to their aid.

Before the attack on her small island, she had been a successful pediatric doctor. She did not work for a large hospital but one that was relatively respected. She loved the children she worked with and their families. Her favorite part was being able to go to the birthing center of the hospital to check on newborn babies. She loved the sweet smell of the new babies, the way they kept themselves tucked into the same position they had been in for months.

A tear slid down her cheek as she thought of all the lives that were lost. Wiping away the tear she pulled herself off her bed, if it could even be called a bed. Comprising of a thin foam mat, usually used for camping and one disintegrating blanket. Thankfully, the nights never got too cold, and she did not have to shiver at night. Although some nights were unbearably warm.

As she stood, she felt the weight of her sadness in the pit of her stomach it weighed her down making it difficult to go about her morning routine. On her way to the toilet, created from bucket, on the other side of her small hut she noticed the sun rising in the sky. The landscape that had once been of a vivid lively city was now the remains of a terrible disaster. Over ten years the island’s attackers had done little to improve upon their destruction.

Few had survived the attack. Trinity recognized one of the survivors, Dalton, a surgeon from the hospital she had worked at. He had not followed the new direction of the city and was taken away, weather to exile or execution she did not know. All she knew was she had not seen him in more than five years. He played along at first but soon grew tired of the depressive living conditions they had been forced into.

The survivors built huts from the rubble that remained after the attack. Trinity and Dalton had formed a pact with one another and build their tiny hut together. They pulled the shelter together in a matter of weeks. After the bombing, the air was dangerous to breath in. They had to wrap fabric around their mouths and noses to help filter the air. Many of the survivors were only that for a matter of days they succumbed to either hunger, thirst, or their organs failing. Autopsies were not performed on the survivors that eventually passed but Trinity believed it to be some kind of impediment of dust in the lungs causing the organ to fail.

The Founders stayed off the island for a few days after the bombing. They did not want to expose themselves to the potential chemicals and debris still in the air. The cowards. When they arrived on the island, they swarmed in. Their numbers vastly outnumbered that of the survivors.

Aggravated by the living conditions imposed upon her by power hungry Founders she found herself balling her hands into fists, leaving half-moon impressions where her nails dug into her flesh. She had not noticed the pain immediately; she had come to have a high tolerance for pain.

This was enough, she was no longer going to play by their rules, done doing their bidding. She turned to gather her meager belongings when she slammed into something large and imposing. Her breath caught in her throat she could not speak or scream. Only one other time had any of the Founders visited her at her hut, it had not been a friendly visit.

“You are late” He barked. All the Founders wore masks to hide their faces.

Trinity opened her mouth to speak but it felt as though her voice box were gone and her throat sewn shut. Within an instant he had her pinned to the wall with his forearm, the muscles were well defined and utilized as much as the Founders could find an excuse. Honestly, they hardly cared about having a reason to impose force upon their captives. And that is essentially what she is. She cannot leave, she cannot speak freely, and she cannot do as she pleases.

Punishments are implemented frequently.

“You come with me.” He growls forcing Trinity outside ahead of him.

“No.” she said with her voice shaking. Shaking with fear, anger, and hatred. “No, I will not” she shouted getting louder with each word. She stopped in her tracks and turned to face him. She noticed two things in an instant, he was alone, and he was a good ten to fifteen feet away from her.

The small dark eyes on the other side of the mask narrowed further, they barely looked open. Trinity knew she only had a moment to act, she had to think quickly, talking back would certainly earn her a trip to the vault, their prison.

Without further consideration she kicked up some nearby rocks as high as she could in his direction. Without waiting to see how many hit him she turned and ran. There were some dense woods on the other side of the hill ahead of her.

She heard him howl out in pain. The urge to turn and look at the damage she caused was almost unbearable, but she could not spare a moment. He could easily overpower her. She was halfway up the hill when she heard his heavy footfalls behind her.

Her heart was pounding in her hears. Don’t stop Trin she thought to herself as her legs began to burn and the pain in her feet from kicking the rocks began to catch up to her. All she wore were small worn-out tennis shoes. Giving up is not an option. The crest of the hill was in sight, just four more steps she told herself.

Before she could take another step, she felt a weight on her ankle that was not her own. The pull forced her down on to her stomach, knocking the wind out of her. She flailed and kicked but the grip on her ankle was unrelenting. She reached for anything and everything around her trying to gain a grip, sticks, grass, rocks, anything. Her fight was futile and had begun to grab the attention of the other Founders.

She felt the heat of new tears streaming down her cheeks. The crisp lines they left in the layers of dirt on her face made it look like she was crying mud by the time the tears reached her chin. She would not give them the satisfaction of seeing her cry, she wiped her face and waited as she heard the others approach.

She felt the same muscular arms wrap around her waist and pull her to her feet, non-too gently. The hope that had been in her mind was replaced by despair as she thought of what she would soon be facing.

She was now surrounded by four Founders. They were speaking in their native language. It was clear hers was not their first language and she had not a clue what theirs may be. Their discussion ceased abruptly; apparently, they had come up with their plan.

She was manhandled and lead through the newly build city. This was not much of a city there were still debris within the streets and the buildings were not comparable to what had stood in their place previously.

With newfound terror she realized where they were taking her. Her feet suddenly did not want to move, they dragged her along. They conversed again briefly.

“What are you saying?” she demanded.

One of them looked her with malevolence in his eyes, somehow, she knew if she could see his face, it would comprise of a cynical smile. “You meeting the Fates.”

The Fates were the council that made decisions on what to do with the troubled survivors, Dalton and others went to meet the Fates, none ever returned. This could not bode well for her.

Bowing her head, she began to pray to anyone and everyone she thought might be capable of getting her out of this mess.

Before she knew it, she was thrust before a desk with a woman sitting behind it. She was also masked, this was unique, this was the only female Founder she had come across. When they brought her in, they bowed to the woman behind the desk. Was she somehow their superior?

Without a word they each walked back out the door they had come through.

“Name?” The masked woman barked.

“Trinity” she replied rubbing the locked between her thumb and index finger, she had taken to wearing it that fateful day ten years ago. Somehow R.R. seemed to calm her.

The woman’s eyes zeroed in on the locket with lightning speed.

“Give that here.” She demanded with her hand outstretched.

Trinity did not think it possible, but her stomach plummeted even lower within her body. Where was it now in her thighs? Her knees?

“Now.” The woman said even louder coming to her feet.

Shakily Trinity removed the locket taking one last look at the engraving.

The woman turned it over in her hand a couple times, she traced the letters. “Where did you get this?” she asked, the accent was gone so was the sharp edge to her voice.

Perplexed by the woman’s sudden change Trinity hesitated before replying. “I found it the day of the attack.”

Quickly the woman crossed the room, locked the door. then advanced on Trinity with just as much speed. She took Trinity by the wrist pulling her into the next room. Moving a carpet, she revealed a trap door and opened it, shoving Trinity down ahead of her.

“I have been waiting for you to come.” To woman said removing her mask to reveal the old woman that had worked at the coffee shop Trinity had regularly visited. “Dalton told me you would eventually rebel.”

“He did? Is he still here?” Trinity asked looking wildly around.

No reply, instead she led her into an underground tunnel.

“Who there?” Called a deep masculine voice. There was something about that voice, something that beckoned her closer.

“Rosie Rowlands.” The older woman replied.

They walked on, it was Dalton, and behind him a boat.