The weather dropped below freezing, fog ghosting over the dunes as I approached the wall. Well, it wasn’t so much a wall, more like a tall concrete fence separating the Outskirts from the rest of the world. Wooden walkways stretched across the metal, built like a puzzle only the droids could decipher.
I couldn’t believe what I was about to do.
The silver eye tagged amongst hundreds of other graffitied markers glared down at me. The hair on my neck stood on end under the N.S. logo. That eye had haunted my dreams for as long as I could remember. I shrunk under its gaze, feeling smaller than I was. My lungs spluttered against my ribcage as I approached the gate. The white uniform of a Fryer scratched at my sand-colored skin.
“Count to ten,” I whispered to myself. One…. two…. three….
I brought up the rear of a vanguard, flanked by Zombies on all sides who hadn’t seemed to notice they were escorting an extra Fryer from the prison. Myself, and two Fryers marched with a group of Outliers I didn’t recognize. Each broken face that turned back in my direction-towards the desert and their freedom, cracked my resolve, spiderwebbing my plan. I could feel their hearts thundering in their chests. I didn’t know why they were escorting a group of Outliers into the city, but it couldn’t be anything good.
“Open the Gate!” One of the Fryer Soldiers shouted. The white glow of his lantern cast shadows across his blank face and white uniform. I don’t need to see his eyes to know they would be black-One of the many effects of the serum used to control civilians. It took away their free will-fried their brains into submission.
A thousand thoughts raced through my mind as I cross the threshold. If you glanced up at the exact right moment, you could see into the walls interior. The grated levels were dark, not a security camera in sight. Suppose they hadn’t needed one when there were several dozen droids surrounding the entrance. Every whimper or rattle of the chains hit me with another wave of guilt. I couldn’t leave them there, where I knew they would die one way or another. But I also couldn’t jeopardize my mission.
Falcon’s retrieval was too important. She had info Dahlia claimed was vital to our survival. If I failed-we would lose the war.
The group was small, not more than five or six. Mostly girls. Oddly enough, that made sense to me. Our female numbers far outweighed our male. Since it’s rare for an Outlier to live past twenty-five, we consider ourselves adults at thirteen-of course the girls are smarter than us boys. Sometimes, I was convinced that boys (myself included) were just plain stupid.
The Zombies stopped us just within the wall, marching the group towards a small concrete building I recognized as a standard holding facility, much like the others found in almost every sector. These buildings were usually meant for serum distribution or temporary containment of Fryers who had grown immune to it.
One of the girls crumpled forward, retching into the sand. My own throat burned at the sight of the yellow and red fluids that came out. The girl was so thin the wind could have blown her away. In the daylight, her thick jean jacket and leather boots would have provided the ultimate protection from the sun without locking in the heat. But at night, the oversized clothes nearly drowned her. Her body trembled and convulsed as she fell into the sand.
“Get her up!” One of the Zombies barked, his blaster trained right at her head. My heart rose to my throat when one of the two boys stepped forward.
The zombies instantly shrunk in his massive presence, bulging veins stretched over his thick dark-skinned muscles. Sweat pasted his black hair to his brow, his sharp eyes glared with such ferocity that the other Fryers stumbled backwards. He was clearly a captain in one of the squads who’s name I never bothered to learn. He had an air about him that filled me with the burning desire to obey his every command. Vaguely, he reminded me of someone Falcon had once told me about, an Ex of hers. How the zombie’s had managed to capture someone so obviously terrifying-I had no idea.
“She can’t walk,” He said, staring down the droids one at a time.
The zombie who seemed to be in charge leveled his blaster to the boy’s head. “Then carry her, Prisoner 2277.” My fingers weaseled their way underneath my large white shirt, to my belt where my blaster was safely tucked away. I knew this would be my only chance to get away, while all eyes were on the boy. I couldn’t risk my mission; I couldn’t save them all.
As unsuspicious as possible, I slowly slid to the right one step at a time. I was less than five feet from the shadows of the nearest alley when the shooting started. The boy, 2277, charged the nearest droid, digging his heavy elbow into the zombie’s face. The other kids followed a split second later, jumping at the Fryers first, since they were closer. Lasers from above fired relentlessly, with no method or pattern. I tore off my facemask and pulled my blaster out.
The kids were doing well for themselves, piling the busted Zombies to take cover. A few had managed to grab the military-grid blasters and were firing back. 227, I noticed, was an excellent shot. Zombies were dropping like flies, crashing down from the wall. Everything blurred in a spiral of light and the sound of screeching metal. My opportunity was fleeting, I could picture the doorway slowly closing itself.
My shadow danced beside me as the different alleys blurred together. The Fryer sneakers on my feet were digging into my ankles as I ran. When I couldn’t hear the fighting anymore, I discarded the heavy white jacket for the tank-top underneath and finally inhaled a deep breath. I thought it would have been more difficult to get through the wall, and reveled in my success.
But my sense of accomplishment was short-lived when the walkie strapped to my belt blared to life with static.
“Rebels” skkrsh. “heading no-” skkrsh. “-est. Fi-” skkrsh. “-on sight” splimp.
The radio left an eerie silence in its wake. It was jumbled, but the blanks weren’t hard to fill in. I stumbled around, trying to remember which way was north. It was moments like that when I wished I had a compass. I thought back to the front gate, I knew that was facing southwest-straight into sector 15.
A flash of shame curled in my stomach. I tried not to imagine the group I’d left there. Tried not to picture their corpses lying in the cold sand. What if they’re alive? They could help you. An army of zombies against a couple of rag-tag teenagers? The chances of their survival would be in the low twenties. But still not zero.
Even as I toyed with the idea, I knew it wasn’t going to work. If they had survived; I left them there to die. I was more likely to be shot on sight than them helping me. I closed my eyes and take in the sounds of the Outskirts. The sounds of soft machines purring in the distance drew me back to the early mornings at the range with Baba. Not many buildings on the Outskirts had electricity, but my grandpa’s shooting range was a hotspot for the Military Fryers. We were never rich but were considered wealthy amongst civilians.
With that amount of power over others, we were left alone. Baba was immune to the serum (not that he’d ever let it be known), years of meditation and training had taught him to control his own mind. He tried to teach me-His ‘training’ had three stages: Bushido (strength of the mind), The way of the sword, and The Archer.
Bushido was easy enough, but his Katana had never felt right in my hands, too long and too ineffective. But once I had mastered the art of swordsmanship on my tenth birthday, he announced the next stage of my training-the Archer. The bow felt natural in my small hands. I was filled with ecstasy every time I notched an arrow. I could still feel the weight of Baba’s bow in my hand as the Zombies dragged him away watching their commander hand Pop a stack of Vero’s on to my fathers greedy fingers. Enough to pay our taxes for months.
My nails dug into my skin at the thought of what had happened to Baba-I didn’t even know if he was alive. My father had reported him as any good Fryer would. But I wouldn’t do it, I couldn’t continue working for those pigs a day longer. My throat burned as I recalled the week I had spent crossing the desert after I escaped. If Falcon and her sister hadn’t found me, I would be dead. As much as she drove me crazy-I owed Falcon this much.
I swallowed a heavy sigh and pushed off the wall I had fallen against, relieved my lungs were working again. I had two options, go left or go right. I had no idea which way the gate was and would wander aimlessly until I figured it out. Rooftops it was.
With a huff, I began searching for a ladder.
ns 15.158.61.6da2
