I feel the furtive stares from the girls in the classrooms. Their faces are passive as always, but their eyes glimmer with fear and curiosity. I try not to notice as we pass beyond the classes and into the restricted zone. The hallways darken as if to become more ominous. Sunlight casts blinding rays from the doorways at the end of the corridor. When we approach, they open in a blast of hot air and stinging sand.
I'm unprepared for the desolation, having only seen the Yard and the grounds inside the fence. It's sweltering outside, the landscape barren and bruised. The entire world reduces to shades of brown and dark orange. Dust swirls around, flinging grit in my eyes.
Large vehicles with caterpillar treads rumble into their designated slots and Vultures hover above, filling the air with the sound of their chopper blades. Clusters of children are segregated in groups of boys and girls in drab gray uniforms. They stand still, hands at their sides as they await their judgment. Soldier units are scattered about, sealing off any chance of escape. A matron is assigned to look after each group, seemingly to pacify their charges. They assign me toward the rear of a group of girls my age. The matron looks at me with glassy eyes and a mannequin's face.
"Just stay calm and follow instructions," it says. "Your transition will begin shortly."
"Yes, matron," I say as I stare straight ahead.
As soon as it turns, I slip away.
Every instinct I have tells me something is wrong. There is a sinister undertone to whatever the Purge is, and I feel an almost overwhelming desire to escape.
But not without David.
Grainy clouds of dust are my camouflage as I scamper from one group to the next, trying to locate him. Somehow I know he'll be here, escorted under guard as I was. I have no idea what I can do or how to break out, but some intuition tells me we can figure it out together.
The children ignore my presence as I pass along the lines. They do as they're instructed, which is to stare straight ahead and wait. They make no outcry even when they see me dash past in blatant disregard for the rules. They're almost machines themselves, programmed into obedience that doesn't allow them to deviate from their instructions. I carefully avoid the soldier simdroids, pausing to stand in whatever line I'm in until they pass.
A small commotion rises from the far side. My absence has been noted, limiting my options. They'll search silently at first, to not disturb the lines. But my movements will be observed very soon, and the systematic tracking will begin. I make my way to the front of the boy's section, but the soldiers are thickest there as they load the first group into a nearby transport. I dart to the side, ducking low to avoid detection as I cross over to another group.
That's when I see the bodies.
They're loaded into pill-shaped coffins and packed into a separate transport. Simdroid drones wheel lines of comatose children over on stretchers to await processing. The children lie as if sleeping, yet their bodies are limp and lifeless as mechanical arms lift and deposit them into a waiting capsule. The pod rolls down the line before being hoisted and stored in racks on the nearby transport.
The sound of hurried steps grows louder behind me. I have only two choices: surrender or move. My feet know the answer before I do. I hate to abandon my search for David, but I now realize what my punishment will be for my disobedience. I will end up just another dead child dropped into a coffin for disposal. So I move. I dash forward to the one place I know they won't think to look.
The coffin pods.
I wait before one of the simdroid drones turns before I leap onto the conveyor and worm my way between two of the dead children. They're cold to the touch, as lifeless and alien as the simdroids. I close my eyes and tell myself that they're just bodies. Nothing to be afraid of. But I shudder all the same as their flesh touches mine, and they tremble from the movement of the conveyor.
The installed machine arms at the station don't think. They don't scan for life or identification. They simply do their job, lifting bodies and placing them into the capsules. So when my body arrives at the station, I'm gently lifted by the mechanized arms, deposited into a waiting capsule, and compartmentalized in the transport. My pod slides into place, and the assembly line goes on.
Waiting is agony. Every second is an eternity of worry and doubt. The anticipation of discovery swells until I feel as if I will go insane from the anxiety. The inside of the coffin is constricting and claustrophobic. My breathing fogs the narrow strip of viewing glass, obscuring my view.
I'm trapped more completely than at any other time in my life.
Chapter 3: The Capture
My heart pounds so fiercely I can hear it thud against my chest. Sweat beads on my forehead as I imagine the searchers narrowing down options, running every possible scenario until they zero in on the one place they haven't searched. It's only a matter of time before the machines discover me. The numbers never lie. It's a simple matter of mathematics.
I almost sob with relief as the transport rumbles to life. The capsules rattle in their compartments as the gargantuan wheels turn and slowly gather speed.
It's almost impossible to believe. I have escaped from my prison. I have outwitted the machines, beat them at their own game, and finally have the opportunity to claim my destiny.
First, I have to get out of the confining capsule. I can barely move in the cramped space, but I manage to press the Emergency button inside the pod. The front portion slides open and I sit up, taking huge gulps of fresh air.
All around are compartments loaded with dull onyx capsules. I carefully climb out and look for a way down. It's only by chance that I glance at the inscription labeled on the one I emerged from.
Michelle.
I slip and almost fall from my precarious perch. I can only stare in dumbfounded shock as the genius of the machines is made evident.
They predicted my every move. I should have known my escape was too easy. I had time to study their patterns at the base, years to plan my routes. They still caught me. Why did I think I could outwit them in mere minutes? They have studied my behavior since birth, able to predict my reactions and counteract my every move.
Gas billows from jets in the capsule, interrupting my thoughts. I immediately hold my breath and clamber downward to escape the toxic fumes. There must have been a timer set in the container to poison me once I climbed inside. It was only my panic at being sealed inside that saved me from being sedated into an endless sleep.
I resume my downward climb but pause when a thought hits me. A quick look determines the pods are labeled in alphabetical order.
It doesn't take me long to find him.
David's face is ashen, devoid of the character and intelligence that made him so different. Now he's just like the others, cold and hollow, lying still as if waiting to be awakened from a long slumber. But I know he'll never wake up again. I place my palm on the cold glass.
"I'm so sorry, David."
I swallow hard and scrub the tears from my eyes before taking my leave. I can do nothing for him now, and I still have to find a way out of the moving prison.
I clamber down and then drop to the floor, staggering from the vibrations of the transport as it barrels along the battered terrain. My visibility is limited, but I see enough of my surroundings to realize my options are few. There isn't much else besides the pod compartments, and certainly no avenue of escape from a moving transport.
I take a closer look at the grooves on the floor. A hatch installed for unloading cargo might provide me with an opportunity to open it and drop to the ground when the transport stops. With any luck, I can hide and make a break when the coast is clear.