Chapter 1

Clunk ... pshhh Clunk!! pshhh Clunk pshhh ... the rhythmic sounds of industrial processes echoed somewhere in my head as I worked feverishly at the station. The stench of sweat, fear, and grease hung in the air as my hands quickly aligned small parts on an assembly line. The parts are metal, they are sharp, and they require a deft touch. One small mishap and the supervisor comes over and you're removed. It's happened to me twice, they beat you, throw you in a room, and leave you in isolation for no less than 24 hours. It's well, it's not something you get used to.

I looked up momentarily, after hearing someone crying out ... this happened often enough that it wasn't worth much more than a cursory glance. Another of the workers, a guy six stations down the line from me had cut his hand on the belt. He was trying to keep working, but I could tell he wouldn't last long.

BAWWWWWWW!!!! The siren bellowed and the line suddenly stopped, all eyes shifted up. The supervisor and three big guards shoved their way through the masses to the station. The guy who cut his hand was looking around in fright, my heart skipped a beat as I watched one of the guards strike him with a night stick. Through the scrum, I watched his body topple to the floor. A great silence engulfed the immediate area of the large room. Another boy was dragged over to fill the spot, then the siren sounded again and the conveyor belt started again.

We supposedly work 16 hours on, 8 hours off though it doesn't feel like it anymore and we have no real point of reference for telling time, it's just one big long blur. The work is demoralizing, I can't even describe how bad it is, but it's better than being out there. You see, the world isn't what it used to be. Outside the complex, it's dangerous. People die readily, women like me are made into slaves and forced to do unspeakable acts. There is no happiness, anywhere. I work at a place called Munitions Assembly 083. I don't know how I got here, I don't know much of anything of this place.

The closing whistle blew and I took a step back from the belt and followed on the bright pink line on the floor back to my living quarter, no sooner had I gotten to a small kiosk next to our area that a guy approached me, "Hey 17288" he said, I glanced up. "Hi" I replied. I was rubbing my hands with aloe, calluses were bad because they took away from the finesse that was required to align parts. Parts ... my mind thought ... I didn't even know what I was helping to make. All I know is that three round parts align to a metal shell and if I fail, I get in trouble.

"Are you free later?" the guy asked me.

"No" I replied, "I'm really tired and I don't want to risk passing out tomorrow."

"Alright" he replied, and moved on.

I guess I should tell you about the living quarters here. They're bad. We are 10 to a room, sometimes more but never less. The rooms are small, we sleep almost on top of one another. Meals are provided by way of a vat of stew. The meals are disgusting, but you have to eat. Water is provided and it tastes bad, like its recycled sewage. We try to not think about it, but you cannot help but wonder. Clothing is scant, I guess I am fortunate because I still have a full set. Some of the people I work with have only underwear. We're offered the chance to buy new clothes every month, the cost is one week's pay. Most of the women are forced to do this for biological reasons. We also get rubber flip flops. I know I have been here at least three years because I have had to buy 30 changes of clothes, there are periodic shortages of supplies and when they really starve us, I miss months. But I guess it wouldn't matter, because there are only two things you can buy. Clothes or blankets.

I laid down on the cement floor, spooning my rolled up woolen blanket. I rested my head on a section of blanket and allowed myself to weep quietly, as I've done for the past who knows how long. I lost the ability to feel completely sorry for myself, it's been like this for a while. I cannot really cry. it's more of an acknowledgment that all is lost.

"Courtney" I said softly, "Your name is Courtney," Identity was the first thing that was taken from you in this place. I still remember it, I don't know what happened to my parents, or where they even are. We were taken from school, in the middle of the day. A "field trip," it was called, I sniffled and wiped my nose with the back of my right hand. I heard my roommates staggering in and collapse onto the floor.

I heard 16849 crying as she often did. I tried to feel sympathy, but I couldn't bring myself to, and that made me feel even worse. I thought back to the day we left. A national emergency had finally been declared, after several western states had already done so, the claim was that a new virus was killing everyone left and right. I don't know how true that report is but, we were bused off, two or three nights on the bus and then we came here.

When it was possible to mingle with other people, I always tried to find the highest numbered people to talk to, currently, that was around 44,000. I could only imagine the pain they had to endure. We're branded here at MA083. They tattoo us on our right shoulder, in big Gothic Block numbers. The new people still have spirit and drive, they believe they will get out soon. it's not until they meet some of us, even with lower numbers than me that they realize they're going to be here for a long long time. I've never heard of anyone escaping. it's like a prison this place.

I slipped into a sleep that wasn't really sleep. It was the guarded awareness that one gets into when they're scared. You're always scared here, the guards sometimes beat people for fun or as they call it "to keep us in line." you're scared of your room mates especially. I'm fortunate in that I'm not very big, so my clothes won't fit many people. Some of the guys get killed for their clothes, especially the new people. I've never killed anyone, I'm terrified of physical altercations.

I rolled over in my sleep and I felt a hand slide up my shirt. I didn't bother resisting as I did when I had first come here. It was pointless. Your body belonged to the company here, not you. Your self-consciousness was there only to be cheap labor, what happened to you when you were away from the work station was not their concern. I used to fight with passion when people would get too close, some of the girls didn't bother trying to save whatever was left of their dignity. I guess I can't blame them after a point, if you know your life is essentially over, you might as well try to feel pleasure from something.

The guards here are real pieces of work, like, I heard a couple guards joking one day that a new batch had been purchased for $15,000. A batch is about 500 people. So human labor trades for $300 a head these days. Math was always something I was decent at, and having a knack at surviving bad situations. I guess that's why I'm still alive.

After what seemed like only a few minutes, we heard the morning whistle blast. I stood up slowly and lined up with everyone else. We filed out, staying on a yellow line. First we always went through the showers. This process was degrading, even for those of us who were emotionally ruined. What happens is we go into a room, and strip. We set our clothes, perfectly folded up, on a conveyor belt and we go through a two meter long box that has water jets on the ceiling. I have vague memories as a child of playing with the pressure washer when I was younger, and it's worse than that. So I stood naked, in front of a row of guards with tasers and I followed the group through the two stage human washing machine. Stage one smells a lot like alcohol or that antiseptic that hospitals often smell like. Stage two is high pressure water. We walk one step per three seconds.

After the water stage, we pick our clothes bundle off the conveyor belt and redress, still soaking wet. Then we go down another hall, this time following a blue line painted on the floor and receive a bowl of stew and sometimes a biscuit. One time, because we beat quota, we got a piece of real meat, but then the quota was doubled.

The new work day was set to begin. We were marched into our stations and I stood waiting for the belt to start rolling. My stomach started really hurting, as it had done every month since I had turned the ripe age of 13. I wondered what year it was, I knew I was a lot older, but I didn't know how old. I prayed for a moment that it would be a light month and that it wouldn't interrupt me too badly.

BAWWWWWWW! The line started running. My eyes snapped to the moving vinyl strip and I cracked my knuckles and waited. My abdomen felt like it was on fire. I put my hands on the metal struts, trying to hold myself up. I looked down after feeling the unmistakable sensation of something running down my leg, and noticed a small red pool was forming by my food. "Shit" I thought to myself. "Shit..."

The parts came into view, I started seeing gray and black splotches. "Oh no" I thought again. "Oh fu--" I said aloud as my world turned black. I regained consciousness a few minutes later when the night stick struck my side.

"Get this trash out of here" an angry voice screamed. I felt my arms being used to drag me across the cold metal and cement floor. The lights high above seemed to be like hundreds of stars, my vision turned black again and I was out.

I came to in a box, one of the isolation boxes. There were footsteps somewhere. I put my hand down and felt my legs, they were soaked with blood. I pulled my knees up and tried to breathe deeply, I felt sick but I knew if I threw up I'd have thrown up my only food for half the day. I heard a key work the lock and the door was pulled open. Two guards came in and dragged me out into the hallway, then tried to get me to stand up. I got halfway up and started to black out again. I felt my head hit the wall on my way down. The guards watched and grabbed my arms, then took me down another hall I'd never seen. I was deposited onto a floor.

"Pick her up" a calm voice commanded. I felt my body being lifted up. "Take her and clean her off, she stinks like ****" the voice said next. I felt myself being dragged around more. I was stripped and deposited into a corner. I flashed back into consciousness when the cold water jet started blasting me. This lasted for several minutes. I was given a new set of doctors clothes then dragged back into the room with the calm voice.

"What's your name?" the voice asked, through the delirium I mouthed "1-7-2-8-8," I felt my head lull down. A hand grabbed my chin and lifted my head up.

"Think anyone will buy this one?" Another voice asked

"Not likely, look at her ... she's fried ... trash ... dog ****." The calm voiced man said in a conversational tone.

"What do we do with this 17288? She's not been a particularly good worker." The other voice suggested. "this is the third episode of this nature"

The man in front of me knelt, I could see his outline through my half opened eyes. "We'll turn her loose"

"Turn her loose?" The other asked "You mean ... outside?"

"She'll be dead in a day ... why waste a bullet!" the first man laughed

The guy kneeling made a motion with his hands and I felt myself get lifted up again and then I was being dragged. I don't know how long I was dragged for, but it seemed like forever, soon, it stopped. I heard a door being opened and then I felt myself flying. I landed in a thud, and the door slammed shut. I laid there for a long long time, not sure if I was dead or what.

Slowly, I came to my senses, and then I jerked awake. I looked around me in fright, I could see nothing but trees, a small path, and the large metal door behind me. I sat against the building, the clank-pshhh was faint here, my ears ached from the lack of sound. My hands felt restless. I heard someone coming and looked to my left, a group of three were coming towards me. They walked to me and surrounded me.

"Dog shit" one of them said.

"Help me" I sobbed

"You want help, do ya?" one of them replied, he knelt before me.

"Please" I said, tears streamed down my face.

I watched in horror as he drew his gun. "Open your mouth pretty" he demanded. The two others grabbed my arms and forced my head back. I felt the cold steel and tasted the metallic taste of the gun. I looked up with tear filled eyes. I tried to scream but my voice was gone, my body seemed paralyzed in the anticipation of certain death. I swallowed hard, my mouth had gone completely dry. The guard tensed his arm and pushed the gun in more. In the bottom of my eye, I could see his finger tightening.

"This is it" I thought. I shut my eyes, accepting the inevitability.

CLICK!

It took me a moment to realize what that click was. The hands released me, the gun was ripped from my mouth, cutting my lip on its way out. The three stood up and bellowed laughter. One of them leaned in and kicked me really hard.

"Get the fuck out of here, you're not worth a bullet" I was told as they left.

I curled up into a ball, clutching my left side, a faint taste of blood was creeping up my throat. I tried to cry, but my body was incapable of the feat once again. Slowly, with great effort, I pulled myself off the ground and staggered into the tree line.

The trees weren't too dense, but the undergrowth was making my life miserable. The rubber sandals were all but useless in this stuff. The surgical scrubs were sustaining many small rips on twigs and plant life with pokers. I trudged on for what seemed like ever. My body yearned for water, for food, and for sleep. I was still terribly weak from my earlier episode. I pushed through an especially dense cluster of stuff and I found myself on a two track road. I thanked my lucky stars briefly and started wandering down the road, searching for someone or something that might aid me.

The sun was past the setting by the time I reached the first sign of civilization. It appeared to be a small cabin, there were no cars next to it, no signs of life. I walked over to it and looked through the dusty windows. No one was there. I tried the door lock and found it locked. I sighed mightily, looking around.

"Should I ... break in?" I asked myself, quite unsure of this feat. I went to the other door and tried it. Both doors seemed to be locked well. I sighed again and picked up a stick and shoved it at a window. The stick bounced off. "shit!" I said aloud. I didn't realize how weak I was. I picked up a small rock and used it to break a window on the side of the house where I thought I could climb in. I pulled most of the glass out of the window frame and used a couple pieces of chopped firewood that was growing mold to climb through. I felt some glass dig into my thigh, but I kept pushing and pulling myself through the new entry way. Once inside, I looked around.

I found myself standing in a three room cabin. The kitchen and living room were one room, there was a bedroom loft and a bathroom. I made my way to the kitchen, for the first time feeling hopeful. I tried the sink, but no water came out. I opened the refrigerator, there were four gallons of water labeled "Well Water 10/12/2011",

"When was 2011?" I asked myself I sighed and pulled one of them out and opened it. I drank about a quarter of the gallon in one big long pull. It was the best tasting water I thought I had ever had. It tasted just a little sweet, like it was nature's nectar. I pulled the jug from my face and set it back into the fridge. It dawned on me that there must be food somewhere. I started opening cabinets and pulling whatever I could find out and setting it on the counter. I found Almond Butter, three cans of peas, and two containers of spam.

After some effort, I managed to get one of the Spam cans opened. I took a whiff of it, it smelt disgusting, but I dug my fingers in and started scooping glops of the meaty paste into my mouth. I forced myself to swallow down a whole can. I next went back through and found a bottle opener. After staring at the can for a long while, I worked it carefully around the edge of one of the cans of peas so there were several small holes. Then I went back and tried to press down between the holes. I managed to get six of the small holes on top of one another. I started drinking the pea water and gingerly chewing on the small green vegetables. The funny thing was I couldn't remember ever liking peas when I was younger.

Lastly, I stared at the almond butter container. I was still quite hungry, but my atrophied stomach was reminding me that I'd had enough. I pulled and pushed, and eventually was rewarded with a "pop!" and the top came off. There was liquid on top of a beige mass. I thought about it for a minute and then read "May separate, stir before use" on the side of the container. I jammed my index finger in and stirred as vigorously as I could. It didn't seem to have an effect, so I pulled my finger out and licked it clean. Then I replaced the top and grabbed the well water I was drinking and made my way up the stairs.

The bed was really soft, too soft for someone who had been sleeping on a cement floor. I pulled the blankets off the bed and arrayed them on the floor. I told myself I'd try the pillow, and I laid on the floor, atop the blankets and stared up at the ceiling. The sun was about to fully set, a warm glow emanated across the cabin,.

I woke up suddenly, it was bright in the cabin, I sat up with a lurch and almost smacked my head on the bed post. I looked around wondering what the problem was. Silence greeted me. Like, literal, absolute silence. I laid back down, conscious that I didn't deserve to be happy right now. I curled up into a ball and finally, years of abuse and neglect came pouring out of me, feelings of rage, helplessness and loneliness filled the gap that was my life. As I calmed down, it was this last emotion that really lurched onto me. I was now alone, utterly and helplessly alone. I sat up and sniffled for a minute before I realized that I had actually slept, the mere act of sleeping brightened my mood a little bit.

I glanced around and noticed several small cases in this bedroom. I started opening them, my hands weren't functioning well at the moment. Years of simple repetitive motion had dulled my motor function a little. I found men's clothing in most of the cases, and a couple pairs of boots. I discarded the big ones, and tried the smaller ones. They were quite big yet, but after pulling on a pair of wool socks, they fit snuggly enough to walk in. I pushed them off and then casually dropped them from the loft, I didn't trust myself to carry anything down the ladder yet. I pulled a big flannel shirt out of the bin and adorned myself with it. It was much nicer than the scrub top, I scrunched the bottom up and tied it off, so it would fit me a little better, then I pulled some jeans out. They unrolled and I heard a THUNK! I looked down at the floor and a knife in its sheath was laying there. I smiled weakly and unsheathed it. The blade was big, the knife was quite heavy, but it had a sharpening stone. I'd have to learn to use this knife. I used the knife to cut the pant legs on the jeans a little shorter. I fashioned a belt out of some rope that was laying around. I then dropped these down from the loft.

I carefully descended the ladder and tested my stability by standing on one foot. If I was going to be traveling, I had to be a little stronger first. I went into the bathroom and found a portajohn, one of those little ones that you dump in the woods every week or so. Since I was used to a community toilet, it felt a little weird, but a good weird, using this very secluded one. I looked down at the water and realized I wasn't bleeding still. Fear crept into my system of what might have happened. I dismissed the thought and went to the living room and sat on the couch.