The Chosen

The gap between the rich and the poor has expanded into a ravenous maw; hungrily devouring anyone stupid enough to cross it. The middle class collapsed like a fiery tower of dry kindling during a time known as the Insurrection Period. Now, most people spend their entire lives scurrying around like rats trying to piece together a living from the gnawed leftovers of the “lords” of the New Republic.

***

The stench of raw sewage and human sweat invaded my nostrils the moment I awoke. The humidity was already oppressive in our little borough like a wool blanket in the middle of July. Sleep still clung to me as I shifted my weight in bed, careful not to awaken the woman beside me. Sighing deeply, I took a moment to just look at her. A smile slid across my face. For all the hardships of the life, and believe me it was hard, she gave me a reason to smile. We had been together for more than five years now. Never had I felt such an incredible sense of satisfaction. Not just physical mind you. She satisfied every layer of my being, every crevice, every pore; as if warm, sticky maple syrup were being poured on a stack of golden waffles. That thought brought a slight chuckle that scurried up my spine like a spider with needles at the end of its legs.

How long has it been since I’ve had waffles? I asked myself, not really expecting a recall of…better days…

My focus turned back to her. I ran my calloused hands through her bronze-colored braided hair. It felt as if fuzzy caterpillars curiously explored my fingers. My movement caused her to stir from her sleep, opening her eyes a bit. I am greeted with a smile while she pulls at the torn sheets and doses back to sleep. I wish I could join her in her dreams. She is a much better dreamer than I. Dreams filled with running water. A world not filled with random violence, and a place where normal folks could have children again.

I push those dreams aside, preparing for the long day that awaited me. The first part would be spent foraging and hunting. Our group started early in hopes of catching a deer. But I knew we would probably just bring home some rabbits and squirrels. After that, I would help secure the walls and walk the perimeter. The outcasts attacks had become more brazen over the last couple of weeks.

I glanced back at her one more time. She had the luxury of sleeping in for a couple more hours, but her day wouldn’t be any less demanding than mine, especially since it was discovered that she has a green thumb. The community garden was in dire need of a resurrection. With a slight groan, I pulled myself away from our nest, making my way through the shambles of our makeshift home. Rays of the rising sun flood the shattered windows and bullet riddled walls were like search lights piercing through the darkness.

After serving and surviving on the frontlines of the rebellion, I had an over developed sense of awareness, like a muscle that has been fined tuned by repetition and tension. As I made my way to the door, I could feel the old alarms buzzing in my head. I ignored them, eager to feel the morning sun upon my face. I opened the door.

I was faced with the whir of the engines of a Republic drone patiently hovering outside of my door like an unannounced guest.

Terror instantly grabbed ahold of me like a lover as angry, transparent, crimson beams erupted from its cyclopean electronic eye and scanned me.

After we lost the war, the Republic decided it would be best to embed multiple implants in each person. It made it easy for them to keep track of us, like an unwanted herd of black sheep. The old dread of death from my war days entangled me like vines covered with jagged thorns. My eyes widened upon drifting to the twin barrel 9mm cannons that were fixed on both sides of the machine. I felt like I was standing in front of a firing squad without the dignity of having a last cigarette or a blind fold. I resigned myself to whatever was to come next. I guess it would be a fitting end for everything I’ve done.

The drone finished its scan, and with a click a small compartment opened from its undercarriage, releasing what looked like a thin package. The package dropped onto the porch creating an eruption of dust. The drone’s engines whirred faster and louder as it gained altitude and…flew away.

My eyes followed the Republic’s messenger as it drifted way. Once it vanished, I inhaled for the first time in what seemed like an eternity. Still terrified and a bit embarrassed, I scooped up the package and looked it over. It was a simple black book. I stumbled back into the house, turning away from the closed door and tossing the book away like a misshapen frisbee. I felt the wet nausea swirling in my innards.

Damnit, that really brought me back…

I looked up to see her standing there, already leafing through the cream-colored pages of the little book in her hand.

“Did it just fly away?” she mumbled, still scanning the book’s content.

“Yeah,” I answered, still working hard to keep the bile down.

“Hummmp,” she said, turning on her heals and heading back to the bedroom.

“Hummmp!?” I repeated. “You do understand that was a Republic freaking drone I totally stared down back there? And with no fear!” I tried to regain some dignity while jabbing my thumb over my shoulder.

I heard her rambling in the closet before a hush fell upon the house. After a couple of moments, she reemerged, dressed in her ripped jeans that exposed her middle thigh and a threadbare, stained grey tank top with the book tucked neatly under her left arm. She slid a black bookbag over her shoulder and strode towards me, her eyes ablaze with purpose.

“We need to go…now,” she said, grabbing my arm as she passed me.

Of course. The town folk had seen my visitor this morning. Who knows how long it hung there, suspended like an object the tides of time forgot to carry with it to the shores of eternity? It dawned on me that the townspeople would have some questions, especially since it did not tear me into bloody ribbons. Before we reached the door, she turned to me, locking eyes.

“No matter what, we keep going. Do you understand? Don’t answer any questions. Don’t make eye contact. Just…” Releasing me, she pulled out her 9mm Winchester that was tucked in the small of her back, checked it. Looking up at me with a shrug she said, “Just in case.”

I could hear the crowd getting louder outside our door, getting restless.

“There is nothing to tell!” I protested. “It’s probably a bill or something.”

“This changes everything,” she said, waving the book at me before placing it within the bookbag. “We have to go if we want a chance at a future.” She bit her bottom lip. “I know this is a lot for you to process right now, but we have to go, honey.”

Handle what, I was about to say before she threw the door open and grabbed my arm with a vice grip. We spilled out together. The faces of our neighbors and friends who we had shared our lives with over the last three years stared back at us. The same people we had laughed with, cried with, and who we fought together with to keep the town safe now looked at us with twisted, accusing faces.

“What did the Republic give you?”

“Where do you two think you’re going?”

“What was that about? You got the gift, didn’t you?” they demanded to know.

Holding hands, we pushed our way through the flood of people, until their frustration reached a flash point and erupted in anger. The first blow landed on my shoulder; hands grabbed at us trying to take purchase. Having enough, she pulled her weapon, letting it bark twice in the sky then leveled it on the nearest person. Collectively, the crowd stepped back.

We were exceptionally good with weapons once. I heard the old, familiar voice in my head whisper, like the sounds of a bare tree branch scratching on a windowpane on a breezy night. It was a voice, I had wrestled with for over ten years, trying to suppress its urges. I felt the sweat start to bead up again. I could feel it stir and slither like a serpent, awakening from a long hard hibernation. Ravenous to feed its need. Our need.

“Come on,” she hissed, pulling my arm again.

Breaking into a sprint, we made our way out the gates and entered the foggy gloom of the woods. Slowing to a jog, I noticed she was looking inside the book again.

“There!” she said between breaths.

“Where?” I answered still confused.

Giving me the book, she dashed over to a large, twisted oak tree draped in a spinach-green moss that hung like captured, forgotten souls. I noticed a subtle electronic flicker. Standing five feet or more away, it was impossible to see, but up close, its light bending distortion properties could be recognized. Tilting my head like a curious owl, I could make out its sleek lines. It was some sort of vehicle shrouded in active camouflage. Looking down at the book for the first time three simple letters jumped off the page at me.

“RUN.”

The second page had a detailed drawing of our village that gave directions for us to make it to this very spot, with a code to unlock the cloaked vehicle. While she prepared it, I could hear our neighbors’ anger sweal up again, spilling out the front gate like a swarm of angry fire ants. I guessed they were fanning out in a search pattern, weapons drawn and ready. We position ourselves between the village and the cloaked vehicle. Its interior was big enough for the two of us. Scurrying inside, she took the wheel and sped off. The rugged quadruped easily navigated the rough terrain; its cloaked functions suspended once we accelerated.

I guess the techies still haven’t figured out how to keep a moving mass cloaked once it goes over 10mph, I thought. It was hard for the millions of microprocessors to keep up.

“Well, are you going to read it?” she said. I could tell she was annoyed.

I picked up the book again and gave it a good, detailed look, feeling its slight weight, and noticing that its leather binding was scuffed and scratched like the skin of an ancient crocodile.

“It says there is twenty thousand dollars in your account,” she said, her voice more relaxed. “I looked before we left. It was there. So, I figured we had to do what the book said.”

Blinking in surprise, I reached into her bag and took out my device and logged in to my account. Sure enough, twenty thousand stared back at me.

“Twenty thousand Republic dollars is a lot of money,” I said doing the math in my head. “That’s like a forty-to-one ratio outside the walls of the Republic!” I finished.

I continued reading through the book, but a sense of dread weighed heavy upon me with every flick of the pages. The book was written in my handwriting.

I wonder if she noticed. I thought. If she did, she was not saying anything.

“Looks like we have been chosen,” I said.

“For what?” she asked.

“I have no idea,” I answered, suddenly exhausted.

Other than the first ten pages, the rest of the book was blank; like a tombstone awaiting a name...