Chapter 2

After the initial shock fades, I open my mouth to scream the accusation in his face, but before I can, Cassie emerges, oblivious to what has transpired here.

“Hey Riley, shower is open,” she casually shouts over her shoulder on her way to the bedroom, clearly not grasping the intensity of the situation. I hear her footsteps retreat into our shared room, but I can’t take my eyes off of Morris. He will not return my gaze.

During the time I’m frozen in place, staring at my traitor brother, Dad goes into his bedroom and shuffles around for a short while. Mom on the other hand, has already crossed the room and scooped me up, whispering promises to protect me from whatever is to come, but my thoughts are so loud that I barely hear her. I don’t say it to her face, but I know there’s nothing they can do to stop the New Order. If they want me, I have no option but to go. I tear myself away from her, too busy falling apart on my own to handle her reoccurring flurry of panic as well. I need distance from the barrage of emotional turmoil coming at me from both people standing in the room, so thick that I can’t distinguish who is feeling what. Her fear is becoming mine. Morris’ guilt is seeping in me as well. Is mom angry, or am I? Is it Morris who is ... relieved? I can’t tell. I need to get away. I start to cross the room, eager to run out the door for some fresh air when our father reappears, holding a med-pack, a school bag, and an envelope. He waves me over, already looking ten years older than he did just 15 minutes ago. I pause, looking between him and the freedom of the outdoors, but ultimately follow his orders and rush over to him.

knock knock knock. Once again we are interrupted, but at least this time it isn’t entirely unexpected. They are hard, Forceful bangs, with the kind of authority only enforcers use.

“New Order Congress Official business, Mr. And Mrs. Montmore. Open up.”

With no time to come up with a plan, dad stuffs the med-pack in the bag, tossing it to me after zipping it up, and then stuffing the envelope into his pocket. Unsure of what I am supposed to do, I catch the backpack. The first thing I notice is the weight. It’s certainly too heavy for something he could have thrown together in less than two minutes, and I wonder how long he has been prepared for a moment like this. The second thing I notice is the smell. It is strong and distinctly musty, and my question is answered – A long freaking time.

Everything feels like it is happening in slow motion, but in reality, barely a minute has passed since the enforcers arrived. I can practically see the wheels turning in dads head as he scrambles to think of a way out of this mess. The seconds pass us by, and I am more and more certain that there’s no alternate way for this to play out. At some point, I notice mom snuck out to talk to Cassie. I leave dad in living area, now sitting on the sofa with his head in his hands, and make a bee-line towards our bedroom to make sure I have some time to at least say goodbye before I am presumably taken away.

Entering the room, I feel Cass’ sorrow before I even see her face. I get the sense that she feels guilty, like maybe if she didn’t encourage me, I never would have been caught. She doesn’t even suspect the truth, and I don’t have the heart to tell her – or even the strength to say it out loud.

“There are operatives at every exit. Give up the girl, and you will escape a congressional hearing. No harm will come to you.” The same man from moments ago shouts through the unopened door.

As if on cue, I hear a shuffling of feet, and what sounds like a muffled grunt outside, near the window we are standing in front of. I’m not the only one who notices, as mom rushes over to see what caused the commotion. She freezes, a look of horror washing over her face.

“Hurry, grab everyone, and quietly climb through. Be quick about it, you don’t have a lot time before they realize there is something going on and force their way in,” says a hushed voice I’ve never heard before, from somewhere outside. As an afterthought he adds, “Send the ascendant girl first.” What the heck is an ascendant?

Mom hesitates, and this seems to irritate the unfamiliar man outside my window.

“You can trust me, or you can let them take her. I promise you that her chances of survival are greater if you go with the former. It’s up to you, but you’ve got about 60 seconds to decide.”

Figuring I have no better option, I pull Cassie towards our best chance of escape, and tell mom to grab dad – and Morris - from the other room. He’s still my brother after all. Nothing he can ever do will change that, although I’m sure I’ll never be able to trust him again.

Sticking my left leg out, then my right, I awkwardly leap the short distance from the windowsill to the ground, grateful I never removed my shoes for the day. Once I regain my balance, I immediately notice two brown and teal uniformed lumps on the ground, surrounded by the thick fluid that once gave them life. I’m still staring at the scene, illuminated by the soft glow of the bedroom lights through the window, when Cassie hops down beside me. Her landing is far more graceful, and she’s now dressed in more sensible clothing. With her by my side, I finally get the nerve to take my first glance at the person who simultaneously saved us, and stole the futures of these two people. He’s tall – over 6ft if I had to estimate, with some overgrown facial hair, but I can’t make out too many other features in the moonlight - he is too far away for the light from bedroom to reach him, but the two dead people at my feet don’t inspire any faith that he comes in peace. I grab Cassie’s hand, looking for reassurance and hoping I didn’t make the wrong call. Mom drops down to my side just then, along with Morris and dad, and the stranger in black waves at us to follow him. We get about three houses down, sneaking through the matching backyards of our neighbors, before I hear the commotion that signifies that the Enforcers have noticed our absence, potentially even making it around to the back, where the two victims still lay.

I know we need to pick up the pace, but I can hear the heavy breathing from my mother and see her start to lag, already exhausted not even ten minutes into our grand escape. I, too, am beginning to slow far too soon. Being weighed down by the large pack wrapped around my shoulders, and not being overly fit in the first place isn’t helping. Dad, Morris, and Cassie are several paces ahead, too caught up in the moment to realize they’re leaving us behind. I’m considering abandoning the backpack as the voices of our pursuers grow closer. This far from the edge of town, there isn’t anything to duck behind, or a forest to disappear into. If we can just make it a few more blocks without getting caught, I could lead those who can’t keep up – so far just me and mom – to the area I know well, where there’s more forest than civilization.

“This way, they’re going south!” I am interrupted from formulating a backup plan by the shout of one of the pursuers. The male voice sounds much further away than I expected. Still, This doesn’t ignite much hope. We still have a ways to go before we approach the wooded area that has yet to be developed, as the population in Humus doesn’t require any more construction yet. I don’t see how we are all going make it out and know that I should just turn myself in, but I was told to run, so I run.

I still can’t see anyone chasing us. For a while, I don’t understand why they’re not gaining on us– until it hits me that my mother is no longer behind me. I don’t hear any wheezing, or the loud thud of her footsteps at all. I stop, glancing around. The others are out of sight, I can’t even find their silhouettes because they’re so far in front. I look longingly ahead, knowing that if I keep going I might just get away, but painfully aware that someone else might be paying the price for my freedom. Knowing this, the choice to keep going isn’t really an option at all, so I turn back the way I came. Maybe they’ll leave her alone if I go with them willingly. The thought is more hopeful than it is realistic. We all know the price of harboring an unregistered differently abled person. Even worse, a type 1. An illegal. Still, even the small chance is enough to convince me that I’m doing the right thing. Heading back towards the only home I have ever known, I realize that I can’t hear anyone anymore. It couldn’t have been more than a few minutes that I was standing there, unsure of what to do. Surely not enough for them give up on the chase.

Deciding to stick to my plan anyways, I retrace my footsteps through the yards of all my neighbors, and slow my pace, not exactly eager to meet my fate. All of the homes are the same single story design, with three bedrooms and one bathroom. There are smaller units on the other side of town, but uniformity is important here in Humnus. The homes, trading posts, and food depots are all made of the same wooden siding, stained chestnut. The only permanent fixture that differentiates them are the address numbers, neatly painted on the front of each building on the left-hand side. I can’t see them from the rear of the houses. Realizing that there’s no good reason to be creeping through back yards anymore, I cross through the next opening between two of the houses, stopping to check the address before continuing on. The number 65 is painted neatly on the left-hand side of the front of the home; ours is number 52, so I’m close.

It takes several more minutes walking at a leisurely pace, but I eventually make it back home. Aside from the door, which has been kicked down, the front room is just as we left it. I take a look through the kitchen, bathroom, and Morris’ bedroom, none of which appears to be messed with. In my bedroom, I find mostly the same scene. Everything perfectly in place, like nothing ever happened at all. With no other plan, I take a second to grab a change of clothes, and then look over at my desk to take my Solar-Com with me as well, hoping to send a message to Cassie. I mull over what I should say, but quickly realize there’s no point. Hers is still sitting on her bed, since she had no time to grab it in the heat of the moment. This is the first time since the age of 10 that she has separated herself from that thing, and more importantly, the first time in the same amount of years that she hasn’t been just a message away from me.

I’m beginning to think I made a mistake turning back. Those who came for me are gone, and I allow myself the small bit of hope that they never got a hold on mom. Maybe she knew a different, faster way to the edge of town, or thought that splitting up would give us a better chance. I don’t know. All I do know is that she isn’t here. I plop down on my bed, taking a moment to gather myself. Where do I go now that I’m effectively a fugitive? The obvious – and terrifying - answer is the lost lands. Well I did want excitement, but this is definitely not what I was thinking.

There’s no point in sitting here any longer, so I quickly gather both Solar-Coms along with the new clothes and place them in my bag. They’re tiny devices, barely the length and width of my hands, and only half as thick as the average index finger. They all come with a silver back, with the entire front side being the screen. Their main purpose is for socialization and keeping track of class work, but several games, books, and the few remaining historical documents can be installed as well. They do have a few useful applications for my current situation as well, such as a flashlight, a map that tells me exactly where the City Line is, separating Prommius from the uncharted areas, and lastly, the ability to send a quick message to mom, dad, or even Morris, who’s Solar-Coms I was unable to find. Mine currently only has the bare minimum on it (the universal social media browsers, and this year’s class work automatically come installed and updated when you sign into your profile) so I take a second to download the necessary and potentially necessary applications before moving to the next step of my still-formulating plan.

Where are you I type out and send to all three of the missing solar-coms, hoping that one of them will answer, but nobody does.

I head out back, figuring I might as well “borrow” some protection for myself; it’s not as if the slain enforcers are going to need their weapons any longer. I inch closer to the nearest body, still lying where we left him, apparently forgotten for now. It isn’t until I am standing directly above him that I can see how young he appears. He couldn’t have been more than thirty. He was a bulky fella, with silky brown hair and grey eyes that are staring into the sky with a permanent look of disbelief, as if he never imagined anybody could get the best of him. His uniform is brown and teal, standard issue – but where the button-up top normally spells N.O.C. in large bold letters, and “ENFORCER” spelled out down the length of the right leg, this uniform simply says A.C.F. across the chest on the shirt. At a distance, this would appear to be a normal guy, in a normal uniform, doing normal enforcer duties - but up close the difference is clear. what the hell does A.C.F stand for, and why are they so interested in me? I have to find mom, I think to myself, now terrified to find out with this could mean, but I know that I don’t have time to dwell on this now. Franticly, I look around for a sign of where the “A.C.F” men and women may have gone, but find nothing. There are no more deep voices calling out to guide me, no footsteps stomping throughout the yard. I wish I knew what prompted them to leave so suddenly.

Getting up the nerve to reach down and grab the weapon takes longer than should have been necessary, but I have never seen a dead body before tonight - much less touched or stolen from one. The object is light, but foreign in my hand. Still, I inspect it to get a better feel for how it works. There looks to be several modes, with a sliding bar to select which one you’d like to use. How they decide which mode to use in which situation is beyond me, but just to be safe I opt to use the one that seems to be the lowest setting. Sliding the little bar closest to myself, and wiggling my finger in it’s resting place, I immediately feel slightly more in control. Enforcers all carry weapons similar to this one – a high powered electro-gun that doesn’t use bullets like the guns of Old Society, but rather uses lasers to form a conductive plasma channel to emit a powerful current. Even having never used one before, they can’t be too hard to fire. Just point at the enemy and press the button. That’s all it takes to steal a life.

I don’t exactly feel powerful as I awkwardly transfer it between both hands - trying to find which one feels more natural - but I’m at least confident that I’ll have a chance to make it out of here. I remove the holder around his waist, only to find it’s too large for me. I move on to the second body, who I just now notice is a female, dressed exactly like her partner. The woman was several inches taller than I am, and a bit heavier, but still far closer to my weight than the man so I mutter useless apologies to the woman as I remove the holster from her corpse, and then fasten it around mine, surprised to find that it rested quite naturally at my hips. Her electro-gun is sitting a couple of inches from her body, and after a couple of seconds of deliberation, I lean down and grab it as well. I quickly shove it in the pack, which is reaching its max capacity. Glancing back towards the house I grew up in, with all of the lights still on, feelings of nostalgia and homesickness build up inside of me, but I blink back the tears welling up behind my eyes. After a couple of steadying breaths, I turn my back to the place that has always been my home and begin walking towards the tree line that leads to the unknown.

I place the e-gun that isn’t tucked into my pack into its proper position inside of the holster. I don’t think it’s wise to take my time any longer, as I’ve already been here for at least an hour, and they could come back at any moment. Whoever they are. I walk as quickly as my legs will allow, trying to remain in the shadows while sneaking through the darkened yards and alley ways throughout Humnus. Lucky for me, Cassie and I spent our entire childhood finding creative routes to the edges of town. Even focused on my own inner turmoil, I can’t help but to pick out snippets of the daily lives of my fellow townsmen; Laughter, snoring, occasionally the cry of a small child. I find myself lost in thought, wondering how the rest of my family is faring, and how far they have gotten by now.

Time passes quickly when I am lost in thought, and I find myself approaching the tree line that surrounds Humnus far sooner than expected. I suck in a deep breath before heading in, as this is officially the furthest from home I have been in as long as I can remember. I start to reach for my bag to pull out a solar-com in order to use the flashlight function when a crackling of leaves interrupts me. It’s probably nothing, I think to myself, trying to calm my nerves. More leaves crackle, closer this time. Whatever is out there is definitely moving towards me, but I don’t know my way around this area well enough to find a proper hiding space. Panicking, I pick up my pace, dropping the bookbag back around my shoulders to search for somewhere to squeeze myself into. It takes several moments of looking around blindly before I give up on being able to see anything in the darkness – much less a miracle safety nook – and opt to instead face the enemy head on. With no training and no way to see around me, all I can do is pull out the electro-gun and wave it around blindly, hoping that whoever is out there is afraid enough of the weapon to leave me alone.

“I’m armed. Don’t come any closer” I shout, attempting to sound dangerous, but the shakiness in my voice gives me away. A few heartbeats pass, and I am growing more anxious by the second. “I will shoot you!” My tone is starting to sound a little crazed. I am convinced that they knew I would come this way, and have been waiting for me all along – which would explain why didn’t find them near or in my home.

“Put that thing away,” a hushed, vaguely familiar, voice comes from the darkness. I can’t pinpoint where the noise is originating, and I can’t see anything to give me a clue. I hear some rustling around as the figure starts towards me, and within a few seconds can see the silhouette of a tall figure - clearly human, and definitely male.

“I wouldn’t shoot if I were you. Do you even know how to use it?” His voice is calm, and completely unafraid. I look from the man to the weapon, and back to the man. I’m a terrible actress, and my hands are shaking so badly that I’d miss him if I did fire. I try and reach out to find his energy, thinking now is a desperate enough situation to warrant using my ability, but I’m finding nothing – like he isn’t human at all. He steps closer, his features beginning to stand out – short hair, unkempt beard.

“I’m not here to hurt you.” His voice is low, but still strong and confident. My weapon is pointed directly at him, but I see no sign of fear of weakness from him at all. He’s definitely done this before ... and he can definitely tell that I have not. Realizing that this is a fight I can’t win, I re-holster the e-gun as a demonstration of good faith, and he finally strides the rest of the way to stand in front of me. This close up, even in the darkness, I can tell that he is quite handsome, and that the reason he sounded familiar is because he already “saved” me once tonight. Although until I know where my family is, I can’t be certain I am in any better shape now than I was sitting at home.

“Where is everyone else?” I don’t see anyone with him. With me waving a weapon I don’t know how to use around, it makes sense that he’d have them stay back at first, but nobody else is approaching yet and I can’t sense any other presence here.

“I left them at a safe place.”

“Was my mother with them?”

He looks at me, devoid of sadness, pity, or remorse. Like the life of my parent was no more than that of a fly. “No.”

“Well then we have to go find her. They might not have gotten her, you know.” He says nothing, just begins to walk deeper into the forest, not even looking back to make sure I follow. Jerk. “We can’t just leave her behind.”

“We’ll worry about that another time.”

“There may not be another time!” He doesn’t respond, or acknowledge that I spoke at all; just keeps walking. I briefly consider stomping my foot and refusing to go with him until he helps me, but quickly realize the idiocy in pushing him away. He has the ability to survive beyond the city, and I don’t know where I’d even start to look for my mother anyways. Resigned to the truth of my current situation, and without any better options, I reluctantly trail behind him.

“How long until we reach the others?”

“Not long.”

“Well, aren’t you a delightful conversationalist,” I snap sarcastically. I know I’m pushing buttons, but the events of the night are starting to wear on me, and I need something to distract me, even if that something is a meaningless conversation with a guy who seemingly doesn’t care about anything or anyone. He, of course, doesn’t take the bait, just keeps on hiking through the forest, navigating the path as if he’s gone through here several times before. I want to ask him how often he does things like this, but picturing the two bodies lying outside of my window, and remembering the ease at which he was capable of taking their lives, I’m not sure I want to know the answer.

We walk in silence for a long time and I take in the view. I’ve never been surrounded by so much nature. It is beautiful. The trees sway in the breeze, some of the leaves blowing away in the wind. There is a smell this far in the forest that I have never experienced before, so I don’t even know what to call it. Nevertheless, I love it. There are no streetlights, enforcer hubs, or homes shining their lights at all hours. The only light we have to guide us is from the moon - when it isn’t hidden by the treetops. My companion seems to intuitively know where to go, so I’m the only one in need of guidance or visual aid from our only light source(mostly to avoid tripping over the random branches jutting out from the ground). It occurs to me that some people might find the swaying trees leaving shadows on the ground, or whistle in the wind, to be unsettling; but to me it’s calming. I’m content in the moment to have at least that one positive tonight, but that contentedness eventually fades, of course, and I have to work even harder to keep all of the questions swirling around in my head to myself. After what felt like hours wandering in silence, my resolve finally faded, and I am unable to handle the silence any longer.

“So ... What’s your name?” I figured if he’s going to lead me into my new life, I should at least have that much information about him. He takes several seconds to reply, and I think he is going to ignore me, but eventually I hear him sigh in resignation.

“Corey.”

“Riley.” I answer, grinning foolishly while I point to my chest at the back of his head. For some reason I feel satisfied that he’s offered me something so simple. One small win for me.

Suddenly, a glow of artificial lighting bursts through a break in the clump of trees. After so long of being blanketed in darkness, the sudden brightness temporarily stings my eyes. Realizing Corey isn’t wary of it, and is in fact moving towards it, I pick up the pace, curious to know what’s beyond the thick growth of vegetation surrounding us. When we reach the opening, we find a large area devoid of any trees or bushes. Just well-kept grass surrounding small a log cabin. It’s quite charming, actually. It appears to be made one hundred percent of actual wooden logs, with small square glass windows cut out on the side we are approaching. It’s clear this place has been here for a long time, and that someone lives here. How they managed to live within the off-limits unchartered zone of Prommius undetected for this long, or how they keep up the grounds, came up with the materials, or in general how in the world any of this is possible is beyond me. What I do know, is that no more than one or two people could be living here because this place is tiny. It can’t have more than one bedroom, and maybe a kitchen and bathroom. I am grateful we have arrived, since the thought of a bathroom potentially being nearby awakens my bladder, which is now demanding that I pee, right now. I quicken my pace, and take longer strides in an attempt to catch and keep up with my silent traveling companion.

“Stay behind me. He’ll want to see my face first.” He whispers. Despite the quiet, nonthreatening tone, I jump at the sudden noise. The events of the evening have really left me on edge.

When we reach the door, he knocks once. There is a pause from the other side, before whoever is there responds with a single, identical knock in return.

“Crescent “ he says, and I scoff.

“cres ... cent? What is a crescent?” I ask in a whisper just to be ignored for the umpteenth time tonight. This guy either has something against me, or something against using more than one word in a sentence. None of that matters once the person on the other side opens the door, because I recognize him.

Standing In front of us is Mr. Clark.

“Glad to see you made it safely,” he says, smiling down at me. He is short in comparison to my dad and Corey. His hair is brown with a hint of red if the light hits it right, and he has dull, brown eyes. His face is round and cleanshaven, with slightly pudgy caramel-colored cheeks that do not match the rather thin stature of the rest of his body. Wearing blue sweatpants, and a grey t-shirt, with bare feet standing in this tiny cabin, he looks nothing like the business man I saw only hours ago. The cabin smells musky, as if it’s been empty and decaying for a long while. That strikes me as odd given how well cared for everything seems to be, but I am preoccupied looking around the space to find a familiar face to give it much thought.

“Hello, Mr. Clark.” I say, remembering how sure I was that he knew more than he was saying back home, I can’t pretend to be all that surprised to see him here. I plaster on a thin smile and wait to be let inside.

“You are welcome to call me Marcus, only those who work under me are required to refer to me as ‘Mr. Clark.’” He makes me feel uneasy, even as he stands there with what I’m sure is supposed to be a friendly smile. My own smile falters for a moment, but force myself to return the gesture, trying extra hard to appear friendly. He did save me, after all. It’s most likely the events of the night that are leaving me feeling uneasy, not Marcus in particular.

“Thanks for this” I say waving around the safe haven he has provided us, “I don’t know what we would have done without Corey - or you, but, um – Do you mind showing me to my family?”

“Sure thing, kid. Come on in. They are in the back room.” He takes a look around me, noticing now that we are one person shy of the number they expected, but says nothing about it. Guilt slams into me, but I, too, remain silent. I wouldn’t know what to say anyways. I also ask for the location of the bathroom, and as I enter the cabin, immediately notice that it’s larger inside than it appeared. There’s even a living area that consists of a grungy looking orange couch, an old wooden table, and a variety of candles which are situated strategically throughout the room to leave barely any space unlit. There are two on the old coffee table, and the rest are mounted on the walls, held by the various sconces hanging throughout the room. I see now that the window I could see from the tree line is from this room. I follow the directions to the bathroom, and find that this room is far more dimly lit, with only one candle hanging on the far side, near the toilet. I am grateful to find that although there is no modern electricity, the place does have running water and a working (as far as I can tell) sewage system.

I do my business and then quickly wash my hands and head to the back room, where my family is supposedly waiting. I find it odd that none of them have come to see who has arrived, but walking in I see why - all three are fast asleep. Who can sleep during a time like this, I think to myself. Shaking my head at them, I close the door behind me and remove the holster from my waist. Dropping it into the bookbag I’ve been carrying on my back for hours now, and placing the bag next the door, I tiptoe over to where Cassie is sleeping while trying to maneuver around the unconscious bodies carefully – but still manage to bump them a couple of times. They don’t even stir. Odd. A terrible thought leads me to check their pulses, first Morris, then dad, and finally Cassie - but they’re all breathing steadily. Just in a deep sleep, I tell myself, trying to calm my heartbeat. There’s no finding a comfortable position while lying on the hard floors, but still cuddle up next to my sister and hope sleep will come easily. It doesn’t, of course. I spend the rest of the night in the pitch-black room, gently holding onto Cassie’s hand, and wondering how I’m going to tell them that I lost mom.

All too soon, I’m forced awake by the chirps of the surrounding wildlife announcing that the sun is rising. I’ve never heard so much chatter coming from the trees before today – or maybe the sounds of the city were loud enough to overpower it? I don’t remember falling unconscious, but I rub the sleep out of my eyes, and look around to find that nobody else was bothered by the noise. Trying to be stealthy, I carefully untangle myself from Cassie’s limbs (which at some point in the night ended up spread over my torso) and head towards the door, grabbing the book bag on my way out.