My hands are slick with sweat, unable to hold on to the handle, and I stumble backward, landing on a rock that sends shooting pains up my back. I grit my teeth and push up. I hear an irritated exhalation as Cole opens the door. He grabs my waist and I lunge forward, smacking my head into the door.
He laughs, revealing his dimples, and says, “I’d think you’d be used to being touched.”
Jerk.
I don’t entertain his remark as he lifts me inside the Jeep. He pushes my legs out of the way before slamming the door shut. I reach up, grab the seatbelt, pull it across my body, and click it into place. I tug hard to make sure it’s secure. The thick fabric doesn’t budge, but that doesn’t alleviate my fears of falling out.
Cole doesn’t buckle up; he slams his foot down on the gas, causing the Jeep to bolt forward. My head snaps back into the headrest, aggravating my neck even more. As we turn onto the main road, the breeze whips my hair around and I let it carry my mind with it. My world has completely changed…
Back home, the upper class basks in wealth and their lifestyle is gluttonous with parties and all the trappings that come along with money. Snobbery abounds. You’d think since their lifestyle reeks of lavishness, they’d end up accused, but I’ve been told they pay off the guards to escape judgment—the hypocrites. Looking at me, you’d never know I’m from the High Society. I’m thin, much too thin. But not by choice. I was never given a choice, and it seems I may never have the opportunity to choose anything else in my life.
Only sinners grind away, doing the cleaning, bidding, and serving. They’re transported out of the Hole by train to work each day, but High Society members are too afraid to associate with them, even if they once knew each other. Even commoners, those who aren’t sinners or High Society, refuse to acknowledge them. Instantly, they become strangers.
The guards prove the exception and do whatever they please. They make the arrests, enforce their laws, and even dictate education. High Society is oblivious to the real gritty stuff, though my father was aware of it. I once heard him whispering to a friend about it over a cup of coffee at the kitchen table. His hushed words come back like a nightmare now. If only I could remember everything I heard that day.
“There’s been word of mass rapes and beatings outside of here,” his friend said. “Keep your children on a tight rope. It’s not safe.”
“I know. It’s getting worse by the day. Yet somehow, they manage to cover up most of it. I’m not sure we’ll ever know the full magnitude,” my father replied. I remember peering around the corner from the staircase to listen and pinching my nose to hold back a sneeze.
“I’m hearing rumors of lab testing too—”
“Shhh, that’s enough. We need to take this conversation somewhere else.” Their chairs scraped on the tile floor, so I tiptoed up the staircase before they spotted me.
I always took for granted that my father would be there to protect me. Now, I’m seated in a Jeep with the enemy he tried so hard to shield me from.
Cole keeps his eyes on the road and rubs the back of his neck. He joins a procession of vehicles from the transformation center, escorting new prisoners to the Hole. Roadblocks occur every few miles and he flashes his identification each time. I’m scared to look at him, yet I find myself glancing in his direction more often than I’d like. His sharp jawline and intense expression never falter as he grips the steering wheel. It’s as if he’s expecting trouble ahead. I don’t know why, but his close proximity makes me self-conscious.
Part of me desires strength to deal with my present situation; the other half wants to collapse from mental overload and exhaustion. I give in to the latter.
I close my eyes and daydream. I bring myself back to my father, to the tall grass fields out west, to times of love and laughter, and in my dream I’m okay.
“Wake up!” my father says, but I realize it isn’t his voice. A hand shakes me awake, and I open my eyes as Cole turns in his seat.
Holy crap. I did fall asleep.
“We’re here,” he says. “You’re likely the first sinner to ever fall asleep during the transport.”
“I wasn’t actually sleeping, more like daydreaming with my eyes closed.” I lie because I don’t want him to know the truth. When I feel overwhelmed, I tend to fall asleep, as if my mind is trying to keep me from exploding.
I shake my head and rub my bleary eyes. Before me looms a twenty-foot cement wall ominously rising from the earth. Barbed wire wraps around the top like a snake. There’s no green, just a thick cloud of dust kicked up from the tires of passing vehicles. A colossal protrusion from the wall grabs my attention.
“What’s that?” I ask, pointing to the immense structure.
“That… is none of your concern,” he says, stopping the Jeep. We’re at another checkpoint, and Cole flashes his ID. A young guard standing at the gate inspects it and then looks at me. He grins.
“She new?” he says with a smirk. “Damn, man. Why can’t I have your job?”
“Yeah, she’s new,” Cole snaps.
“Your best yet.” He winks at Cole and then looks at me. “Good luck, sweetheart. You’ll need it.” He opens the massive metal gate, and we follow the others through. It closes with a screech, a thud, and a distinct locking sound.
Cole parks the Jeep in an open space alongside other vehicles carrying newly branded sinners.
“One more stop before you see your new home,” he says. “Orientation.”
I climb down and my joints crack, feeling achy from sitting so long. My neck radiates with burning heat from the brand that permanently labels me a whore. I drop my eyes to the dusty ground, feeling ashamed even though I know it’s not true. But they think it is.
He gives me a quick shove in the direction of the door where I see others with bowed heads and new brands brightly singed into their skin. I imagine that we look like one sad convoy of losers filing into a small, dirty room. The fluorescent lighting flickers and there’s standing room only. Cole leans against the wall with the other guards, observing us carefully, while we squeeze into the room like cattle.
A large screen mounted on the wall in front flips on automatically as the lights go out. A female voice, powerful yet sweet, begins giving the history of the Hole.
“Fifty years ago, after World War V, society was downtrodden from years of fighting. Bombs destroyed highly populated areas, leaving the former United States with high crime, unemployment, and depravity.” Black-and-white images of the last war pop onto the screen—people running as explosions burst in the background. Children screaming. Bodies lying unattended in the streets of war-torn neighborhoods that once flourished. “Then our Commander, our Savior, and our Leader came to power.” The screen flips to a photo of the Commander, wearing a black mask to protect his identity. “After witnessing decades of crime, he saved us from our sins—revamping our judicial system and creating jobs for all. Bringing peace and security to our country once again.”
More like demolished our judicial system, I think. I barely remember my father talking about the war before the Commander. Most of my recollections are of my father cautioning me on being careful about what I say to others to avoid being accused.
Rough footage of the Hole being built by sinners pops onto the screen and breaks into my thoughts. “He created a system by which we would know, forevermore, who the criminals in society are, thereby protecting us from their crimes. By keeping all the criminals confined to the Hole, our society would remain pure and uncorrupted.”
To my surprise, the video shows a state funeral with mourners dressed in dark clothing, parading through High Society. “After our dear Commander passed, his protégé, handpicked and trained, rose up to carry on our beloved traditions. We owe him our allegiance, our thanks, and our praise for saving us.”