Sargasso - Retrospective

I want to thank everyone for all the support in reading and telling your friends about Sargasso. If you haven't read it, the picture link on the righthand side of the screen will take you to chapter 1. I thought I would take a week and answer some of the questions that many of you have emailed to me. If, after reading, you still have a question that you would like answered, feel free to ask.

1: How did you come up with this story?

Picture art courtesy of Six Wings Studio

This was the question I was asked the most, so I feel it needs a thorough answer.

It's funny... you never know where inspiration will come from. Generally, most of my stories focus on the dignity of humanity in one way or another. This story in particular came from a news article that ran a few weeks ago regarding the country of Singapore. The government there discovered that they were number 103 on the list of nations in fertility rate. Wanting to boost their population, they encouraged their citizens to “manufacture life” on what they called “National Night”, August 9^th, which is a National holiday in Singapore. In hopes to create a baby boom.

Singapore even went so far as to hire the candy maker, Mentos, “The Fresh Maker”, to make a commercial to advertise this event. If you want to see the video, click here: I will give you a fair warning - this might make you blush.

This bizarre government intervention is nothing new. A few years ago, Vladimir Putin encouraged a similar effort in Russia. Apparently it went so well that every year September 19^th is set aside in Russia for a similar holiday.

So, all of this got my mind spinning on the thought: what if the government didn't just encourage their vassal servants to procreate, but required it? It just seems like the natural next step to me.

Now, if this all seems a little odd to you, then maybe you're tracking with why this bothers me. My issue with this whole “National Night” thing is this; it would be one thing if the government of Singapore or Russia would come out and say, “We, the State, value life and the nuclear family so much that we wish to encourage all of our citizens, for the betterment of their lives, families, communities, and the world, to have families, care for them, and teach them to be upstanding people. Enjoy your life, and be well.” But that is not what they are saying.

What they are saying is this: “Our population is dwindling, and so, for the sake of the empire, it is your duty to produce more taxpaying subjects who will carry out our will, fight our enemies, and expand our borders.”

In a collectivist model of government, the State is not so much interested in life as they are interested in lives. They need subjects to rule and people to do their will. Now, you can argue with me on this point, and I invite the discussion, but before you do, take some time to study the socialistic societies throughout history and the world today, and see how they live. There is no such thing as a populist, a man of the people, in a system like this. There is only those who rule and those who are ruled.

This is what Sargasso is about.

2: When and where does this story take place?

I received several emails about this, asking if this was supposed to be set in North Korea, China, Russia, Malaysia, or even the United States. My answer to this is, “Where do you think this story takes place?”

The vague writing style of Sargasso is deliberate and one that I have never tried before. I wanted to leave out as much as possible in order to focus on the story itself and to allow the reader's imagination to fill in the blanks.

As for the time? Sometime in the not too distant future...

3: Why did you name the story “Sargasso?”

The Sargasso Sea, a section of the Atlantic Ocean between North America and Europe, is the “desert of the ocean.” I have never been there, but from what I read the ocean water is very different there. It has its own unique ecosystem, and it rarely rains in this area.

http://www.dightonrock.com/backgrounds/Saargasso_Sea-a.jpg

I really like this metaphor of a desert in the middle of the ocean. In my mind, this is how So-young sees herself. She's a young vibrant women with a lot to give in life, but she is barren. Barren in the middle of a country that demands fertility. It's bad enough that she has to carry this burden, but her condition makes her an enemy of the State.

4: What are your plans for this story?

As most of you know, I am a filmmaker. When I started writing Sargasso, I thought I was going to tell the story in about 2,000 words. Well, that didn't happen. Something kicked in somewhere between writing chapter 1 and chapter 2, and I really saw a much bigger story. (Even bigger than what you have currently read.)

So I have a few thoughts, but I would like to hear from you on this.

A few of my readers tossed out the idea that I should make a comic book version of the story. I really like this idea - I have never thought of this before, but it would give me the chance to flesh out the plot and draw up the storyboard for the film at that same time.

I've also thought that I could work on the screenplay itself. A few people asked if I've ever thought of crowdfunding the project (apparently that's a thing now), which was another idea I had never thought about before.

So what do you think? Do you like this story? Would you want to see more of it? Or should I move on to something else? Feel free to shoot me an email and tell me what you think.

5: Can I buy a print of one of Peter McIntyre's pictures?

As a matter of fact you can! Peter McIntyre is my best friend and an artist in his own right. If you are interested in ordering one of the prints used in Sargasso (or any of of his other prints, for that matter) you can stop by his website and drop him an email. www.sixwingstudios.com When you do, ask him to tell you the story about the time he and I were in Panama...

6: What are you working on now?

Well, a boy never writes and tells. But I will tell you this - I really enjoyed the serial format. It's a nice challenge, and it is pushing me write again. Right now, I have plans for at least two more serial stories. So keep an eye out for those.

Final thoughts

One final thing. I would like to thank my wife Ellie, my editor, who truly makes me sound smarter than I really am. Without her, Sargasso would never have been worthy of seeing the light of day.

Thanks for reading. See you next week.

If you would like to read another Q/A on Sargasso, here is a more recent post that I have written. Click here

- Peter-John Campbell

Sargasso - Chapter 4

Sargasso is a serial short story. If you missed Chapter 3 click here.

To my readers: This being the final chapter, next week I will have a post that will answer the questions I have been receiving about the story. If you would like something answered feel free to post your question in the comments section or email me at pete@claymorepictures.com -Peter-John 

"Sargasso"

By Peter-John Campbell

Chapter 4

The world passed by silently for the next few miles. So-young drifted upstream in shock, the image of the dead bodies penetrating her mind's eye.

Rounding the bend, she saw the old bridge. For the most part, it was as she remembered it. Years of neglect and erosion had worn away two of the piers. It was rickety but passable.

It didn't take long for her to find the old trade route. It was an overgrown path now, but the ancestors from a time before had used it to cross the highlands into the north. So-young and her husband had discovered this road during their exploring of the mountain side. Lost to the forest many generations ago, the path was hidden from the prying eyes of the Ministry. This was their secret place; a place where they could be themselves, think, and talk without anyone listening.

She climbed the ridge for the rest of the day, the city growing smaller with every step. The whales below, searching in vain, floated above the skyline looking and watching for any sign of her.

...

Picture art courtesy of Six Wings Studio

As the sun was beginning to set, So-young reached the razor back. Exhausted, she sat down on a ledge to rest. She could just see the tops of the towering skyscrapers and the bright flashing lights of the city far below.

Behind her the sound of distant booming could be heard. She turned away from the city and looked down into the valley below, scarred end to end from decades of war. She thought of her husband. This is where he had died, like so many others, fighting a seemingly endless struggle with an enemy that, to most, was unknown. Snaps of light and thunderous booms echoed across the valley, as if a distant storm were on the horizon. It was the war. The sight of it was strangely reassuring to So-young; at least not everything she had ever been told was a lie.

The valley rumbled with each flash of light. So-young watched the battle, in all its terrible splendor. Above the battlefield, jet fighters swarmed like a cloud of gnats; bombing, fleeing, dodging. They danced and spun in the night sky like a well choreographed ballet.

A gnat suddenly broke away from the battle and buzzed frantically down the valley. The fighter swerved erratically, one of its engines burning. As So-young watched, three small missiles shot up and followed quickly on its tail. The plane pitched and yawed in a desperate attempt to survive. Suddenly, the injured gnat flew straight up in the air, dropping decoy flares that hung like sparks in the sky. The rockets did not follow, and a moment later the sparks exploded like a massive fireworks display as the missiles struck.

The sky became quiet after that as the darkness drew in from the east. Aside from the occasional rumble, the valley lay silent.

...

The thin man paced impatiently, cleaning his glasses. Teams of men sat in front of him, scouring through footage of the thousands of cameras placed throughout the city. “Well?”

“Nothing yet sir,” one of the searchers said nervously.

“How can there be nothing? She could not have just disappeared!” Frustrated, he walked the span of the long room, looking at the monitors as he passed by, facial scanners clicking away combing every inch of the screens.

“Sir.” A voice from down the row. The thin man rushed over to him. “I have a location on Sun Chung-Ho.”

The thin man looked annoyed. “Leave it.”

“But sir?

“We'll deal with him later. Find the girl!”

A red light at the next station over flashed brightly. The thin man leaned in to looked at the identifier. “Private, what is this?”

The boy looked up. “Oh, that's a sensor for the fence on the north ridge. It's probably just a deer. There's a lot of movement up there this time of year.”

“Bring it up,” the thin man ordered.

The young private nervously typed on his keyboard and flipped a few switches.

“Roll it back to when the sensor turned on.” The footage zipped back quickly and then stopped and restarted. The thin man peered at the screen. A deer wondered into the shot, the thin man clenched his jaw.

“Like I said, we...”

“Wait!” the thin man interrupted. “What is that?” He pointed to a small shadow, barely noticeable. “Pull that up.” The screen zoomed in, he watched and re-watched as the sequence replayed. “That's her. Call transport. Tell them I'll be on the roof in 2 minutes.”

...

Hiking all day down the ridge line, So-young felt it was time to take a break. Pulling her backpack off, she tossed it to the ground and stretched her aching back. The battlefield was now directly below her, and she could see the fighting more clearly now. The chaos of it all frightened her. Looking out over the valley she could see her path along the ridge and was glad it kept her out of range and sight of the fighting. If she could keep up her current pace, she could be across the border by night fall.

So-young felt the sound before she heard it. Rising from below her, a whale surfaced above the ridge, squealing loudly, with its guns ready to fire. She stepped back, and her heart sunk. They had found her.

“Stop!” came a commanding voice from the machine.

She turned to run, and her eyes widened. The thin man appeared behind her, his impulse gun drawn. So-young was trapped.

“That child belongs to the State,” he growled. “By the authority of Article 9, you are under arrest for desertion, obstruction, and theft of government property.” He stopped, lowering his voice. “I'm afraid it's over, So-young.”

“Afraid is for the weak,” she said coldly, and pulled the flair from her pocket. With one motion, she ripped the cap off the fuse and flung it at the mighty beast. Caught in the machine's airstream, the flaming stick was sucked into one of the jets. The whale screeched and groaned in a desperate attempt to stay afloat.

Below, an enemy rocket launcher tagged the heat signature of the now burning engine and launched a battery of missiles. They pierced the skin of the beast, wounding it further. Howling, the great whale fell below the ridge into the valley and burst into flames.

The thin man, who was thrown back with the explosion, picked himself up off the ground. So-young was gone. He looked around frantically. Down the path, she was almost out of sight. He grabbed his gun and shot wildly.

With a whipping whistle, the projectile flew past So-young, barely missing her. The base of a tree exploded a few feet ahead with a loud crack. So-young screamed and ran harder down the path, the tree falling behind her with a loud crash. Another shot fired, this one hitting the ground a few feet behind her.

So-young was struggling to breathe. Her mouth tasted like metal, and sweat poured off of her body like rain, but she couldn't stop. She had come too far. Just ahead, the path split. She had to think fast; either stay on the ridge or head down into the valley towards the battle. Another shot flew by her head, she looked back and could see the thin man not far behind. She chose the valley.

So-young took long quick strides, trying to keep her balance on the steep incline. When she landed on level ground, her legs gave out from under her. She started to get up, but something was coming towards her out of the thick fog, and she hit the deck. A unit of floating tanks passed over, just a foot from her head. The machines hovered with a growling noise and fired bright lights towards the enemy. She stayed low, watching them fly away. Then heard three high pitched beeps, and suddenly something jumped up out of the ground under one of the tanks. A land mine. A split second later, the object exploded, flipping the tank upside down and sending it crashing into another.

Holding her ears, she buried her face into the ground. When the explosion died down, she scrambled to her feet and started running headlong towards the enemy line. Men were climbing out of the tank, screaming, while others ran to their aid. So-young kept running. There was no time to think, no time to worry about what could happen. She ran through the thick smoke, gagging on the smell of burnt flesh, the ground exploding around her. The battle enveloped her in a cacophony of noise and fumes.

Pressing through the fog, things suddenly became quieter. So-young slowed down, confused. She looked up and saw the missiles and sorties flying overhead. She realized she was in the gulf between the battle lines. Another wall of smoke and death lay ahead of her. She ran towards it.

“So-young, stop!” a voice shouted. She turned. It was the thin man standing behind her, holding his gun. “This is mad! You're going to die out here. Think of the child!”

Artillery shells hurdled overhead. Bombs exploded, and shots fired all around. So-young looked right at the thin man and confessed her lie. “There never was a child!” she shouted. “And there never will be.”

“Then what is this all about?” he shouted back.

She looked over her shoulder and then back at him. “Freedom!” She startled at the sound of her own voice, speaking the illegal word.

The thin man took a sharp breath. The word hung in the dense air for a moment. “And you think they will give it to you? Look around you! They're trying to kill us.”

“You're the one with a gun pointed at me.”

He holstered his weapon and slowly moved towards her. “Back in the city you have everything you could possibly need. Women are honored, protected. Why would you give that up?”

She crept back, keeping her eyes on him. “Because we're slaves. We all are, including you.”

“That's not true. The Great Father loves us all.” He took off his glasses and wiped the lenses.

“Then why are you chasing me?”

Putting his glasses back on, he softened his voice and moved towards her again. “Because we want you to be safe.” The thin man reached forward and grabbed her. So-young struggled and pulled away. Suddenly, she heard three high pitch beeps. The thin man took a step back, unsure of what he stepped on. The mine hopped up. So-young threw herself to the ground, covering her head.

Hot steal tore into her arm. She screamed in pain. Rolling over, she could see the left sleeve of her jacket was shredded, blood oozing from her upper arm. Painfully, she got to her knees holding the wound, then quickly looked around for the thin man. But she didn't find him. He was gone.

With the little strength she had left, So-young got to her feet and ran into the haze. The ground began exploding all around again, making it impossible to see. She had reached the enemy line. Loud flashes of light blasted overhead as the enemy returned fire. She ran past their strange war machines. Troops of soldiers were running in every direction, moving into their forward positions.

The left side of her jacket and pants were now soaked in blood. So-young felt the energy drain from her body. Stumbling a final few steps, she fell to her knees. A group soldiers immediately surrounded her, yelling, their guns aimed and ready to fire. So-young could not understand them. Her ears were ringing. She attempted to raise her right arm in surrender, but was too weak to move.

One of the men slowly moved towards her. He was shouting something repeatedly, but So-young did not understand. Setting his gun down, he reached for her bleeding arm. He opened her jacket and looked surprised. He turned and yelled to the others. “It's a woman!” So-young understood this.

The other men moved closer, confused. “Where did she come from? Are they using females now?”

The man helped So-young lay down on the ground. The others turned around and took a defensive position. So-young drifted in and out of consciousness. “Stay with me!” she could hear the man's voice saying.

When So-young opened her eyes, she could see a medic above her, wrapping her arm. She was shocked to see that the doctor was a women. Her hair was blond and short, and she wore a white jacket smeared with blood. The doctor smiled at So-young. “You're going to be alright. You're safe now.”

On the medic's jacket, So-young could see a crest picturing two snakes wrapped around a staff with wings at the top. Encircling the image were words that So-young couldn't make out. But one word she did know. "Freedom." The most forbidden word, seen only before in secret, scratched into a bus seat or scrawled in an underground tunnel, worn here in broad daylight as a badge of honor. As a promise. As hope. So-young reached up and touched it, and for the first time in her life, she understood what it felt like. She was free.  

Click here to read Sargasso - Retrospective

Sargasso by Peter-John Campbell ©2012 

Picture art courtesy of Six Wings Studio

Sargasso - Chapter 3

Sargasso - is a serial short story. If you missed Chapter 2 click here. 

To my readers:  So, when I started writing this story I believed I was going to be able to write it in 3 chapters. I apparently misjudged my own imagination. For all of you who were hoping for a conclusion to Sargasso today, you are going to have to wait until next week for Chapter 4. (That is, unless, I come with something for Chapter 5...) - Peter-John

"Sargasso"

by Peter-John Campbell

Chapter 3

So-young opened her eyes. She looked up and saw that her drop had only been ten feet, but she felt every inch of it. Her left leg and arm throbbed. The palm of her hand was scraped and bleeding. She felt cold, or damp. With a groan, she sat up and found that she was lying in a puddle of water. Standing, she felt dizzy. She reached to balance herself and cringed as she touched the wall coated with a thin filmy slime.

This dank hollow existed in stark contrast to the city above. With 10% of the population assigned to a special work detail, the metropolis was kept immaculate. Daily they would clean, polish, wash, sweep, and fix every blemish that could be found. Not a crack, hole, or smudge was ever seen. The city was flawless, all part of the Great Father's plan to show their nation's superiority.

The deep slurring sound of a whale passing over echoed through the tunnel. So-young knew that it was time to move.

Picture art courtesy of Six Wing Studios 

For the next hour she winced along through the musty darkness, the occasional beam of light giving her enough to see by, when the path took a sudden and slick decline. Struggling to keep her balance, she slid down the slope and into a large chamber, a conflux of several tunnels. It was an odd place, and from the decayed debris laying around it was obvious that it had at one time served as someone's home. 

Painted on the walls were signs and symbols. So-young recognized some of them. They were the marks of the rebellion from a few years ago, a sorrowful attempt to overthrow the government. The insurrectionists captured the Capitol for a day with the promise that their stand would embolden the public, and that they would rise to join them. But with a quick and fierce retaliation, the army responded by leveling the building. The rebels who survived were hung for a week in the public square. Barbaric, but the Great Father wanted to quell any other descent before it formed.

So-young looked around, slowly scanning the walls, reading what was written. Brushing the soot off of one spot to get a better look, she jerked her hand back as if she had touched something hot. Startled by the obscenity, written in white. It was an illegal word. Article 73: Any speech that is in direct defiance to the State is prohibited. There were nine illegal words. But this one was the most forbidden. So-young looked around with a nervous impulse to make sure no one saw her. To write, speak, or even read one of the nine words was punishable by death.

So-young had only seen this word one other time in her life, scratched into the back of a seat on the bus she road home from school. She didn't report it and became sick with guilt. Finally, her State Guardian forced her to unburden her obvious secret, and So-young confessed her sin. The next day she was greeted with a new bus and driver.

Standing in its presence now, So-young looked on with fear and awe. She stepped forward and touched it, almost reverently. She feared the word but longed to understand its meaning.

...

The rush of water and fresh air was a welcome change of scenery. So-young waded through the knee high water that drained out into the river. She climbed out of the tunnel into the ravine, looking around to get her bearings.

Picture art courtesy of Six Wing Studios 

This area was familiar to her because years ago it had been the national park. So-young and her husband would come here in their time off to hike and camp, the only activity permitted outside the city limits. As private citizens, acquiring the special permits needed was virtually unheard of, but he had done it. That was the type of man he was; always working to make her smile and find a way to make life more bearable for So-young.

It had all changed, though, when the frontline of the battle was pushed back. That was a dark time. The army encountered heavy losses, and the enemy, pushing hard, forced them back to the north base of the mountains. The city was on high alert at all times. Food was rationed, a stricter curfew was set, and the park was shut down. The city limits morphed into a fortress over night, all for the sake of protecting the people. But, when the war moved north and the enemy was again out of range, the policies stayed in effect. No one dared ask why.

The water was too high to cross, and still icy cold from the spring thaw. There were only two safe ways across the river; the main road, which would be guarded, and the old train-line bridge, if it was even still there. She decided that the storm drain must have positioned her downstream from the old train-line. She turned west and headed upstream.

She had only walked a few yards when she saw the figure of someone lying on the ground ahead. So-young ducked behind a tree, terrified. Considering her next move, the wind blew and the smell of rotting flesh smacked her in the face like cold water. Relieved, her heart all the same began to beat harder, and the horrid thought of seeing a dead body made her anxious. She took a few deep breaths to steady her nerves and slowly looked around the tree. It was the body of a man in peasant clothes, lying face down. It was apparent that he had been there for a few weeks.

Something up the hill caught her eye. Another body. Then two more, further up. So-young nervously came out from behind the tree. More bodies. The further she looked, the more she saw. Hundreds of corpses, piled and decaying, covered the ground from the top of the ridge to the river. So-young felt faint. She looked around, but there was no other way to go. She would have to walk through the open graveyard.

Closing her eyes, she took a shallow breath and stepped forward, not looking down but only at the trees ahead. The ground crunched beneath her feet.

Suddenly, she heard angry shouts from above. So-young turned and could see the silhouettes of several people standing on the ridge. She threw herself to the ground between two bodies. The shouts became louder. The silhouettes trembled. So-young jumped with the sound of the first shot. A body fell into the ravine, and the sound of men laughing could be heard from the top of the hill. Burying her face into her arm, So-young tried not to scream as the other silhouettes fell.

- Click here to read Chapter 4 - 

Sargasso by Peter-John Campbell ©2012 

Picture art courtesy of Six Wings Studio 

Sargasso - Chapter 2

Sargasso - is a serial short story. If you missed Chapter 1 click here.

"Sargasso"

By Peter-John Campbell

Chapter 2

Locks of long black hair piled up on the floor. So-young snipped the last loose strands with no time to think or grieve of what she had just done. Grabbing the bottle she dumped the remaining pills in the toilet and flushed them down.

Picture art courtesy of Six Wing Studios 

Returning to the bedroom she reached for the closet door, then hesitated. It had been two years since she had even touched the handle - too many memories of him. Putting her hand to her mouth to try and steady her emotions, she quickly opened the door. Sifting through the clothes she pulled out her husband's infantry field jacket and tossed it on the bed, then dropped to her knees and opened a box with camping supplies in it. Digging through it, she pulled out her boots, backpack, and a knife. At the bottom of the box she found a flare stick. After looking at it for a moment, she stuffed it in the jacket pocket.

Dressed, she went to the kitchen and filled the bag with as much food and water as she could reasonably carry. Zip-zip-zip. So-young stopped and looked up at the clock. It was five till ten. She slung the backpack over her shoulder and went to the mirror. Running her fingers through her newly chopped hair, she pulled a green army cap from the jacket. This was his hat, the one he was wearing the day he was killed. It still smelled like him. Wiping the tears from her eyes, she pulled the cap on and added a pair of sunglasses. She didn't look anything like him, but she did look like a young man. Or at least she hoped she did. “Hopefully that's enough.” she said to herself.

So-young could not recall the last time she had been outside. With her office on the first floor of the building, she lived the blissful life of a recluse. The streets were busier than she remembered; the traffic, the noise, and the mass hordes of people made her anxious. So-young had to move swiftly so as not to be seen. She wasn't sure if the Ministry would be watching the building, but she left through the alley never the less.

The buses and trains were out of the question - the security checkpoints were too risky. Walking was the only option, but she also needed to be selective of which roads to take. Cameras, the Ministry’s hidden eyes, covered the city. No one could ever be sure when or if they were being watched. It was slow going, every step calculated, every turn premeditated. Wading through the sea of humanity that flowed through the steel and concrete caverns, she consciously kept herself in the midst of the crowd as she worked her way through the city.

After a few hours, So-young began to relax. The sun was shining, and the warm spring air seemed to be calming her nerves. She was even becoming good at spotting the cameras and moving out of their sight. Her spirits lifted, and for the first time since she had set out she knew that she was going to make it.

Suddenly, a mass of government vehicles came tearing around the corner, their sirens blaring, and screeched to an abrupt halt in formation. “Stop!” came a commanding voice over a loud speaker. With a corporate reflex, everyone on the street obeyed the command and put their hands behind their head and looked down. So-young's heart pounded as she fought to stay focused and steady her breathing. There was nowhere to hide. The vehicles emptied with soldiers pouring onto the street. Trembling, she peeked around the man in front of her and gasped when she saw him. The thin man paced about five yards from her, scanning the faces in the crowd. He turned back and began taking quick deliberate steps in her direction. So-young ducked back and focused on the ground.

“So, you thought you could get away!” The thin man yelled brushing through the crowd. “How far did you really think you would get?” He marched up to her, put his hands on So-young's shoulders and pushed her out of the way, then grabbed the collar of the man behind her. “Let's go!” The thin man pulled the dissident away, knocking some bystanders over. The fugitive was stuffed into one of the nearby tanks. The soldiers backed away and vanished into their trucks.

“Continue!” said the voice over the loud speaker. In unison the hands dropped, and everyone went on their way as if nothing had happened. Moments like these were routine, and no one ever interfered out of fear of being taken away, too. Though it was never talked about, everyone knew where “objectors” went when they disappeared. It was the unspeakable word, the dreaded place known only as The South. Article 11: Any citizen found unable to perform his or her civic duties will be given a more structured life. So-young didn't want to imagine what would become of the man that was caught – she didn't want to imagine what would happen to her.

...

So-young was getting concerned. The sun was setting and she needed to find a place to hide for the night. Article 23: A national curfew for all citizens one half hour after sunset until one half hour before sunrise the next morning. Any citizen caught breaking curfew will be detained. She was beginning to panic when she turned a corner and smiled from the sight of a familiar place.

May Day Park, the central court of the city “created to honor the labors of our great city and give them a place to rest.” More importantly, it was where, five years ago, he had asked So-young to marry him.

Picture art courtesy of Six Wing Studios

Walking carefully through the park, she marked out a spot near the lagoon. She sat down on a bench and watched to see if anyone was near. After a few minutes, she slid off the bench and shimmied under a thicket of bushes. Laying flat on her back, it was uncomfortable, but it was out of sight. Hungry, she pulled a protein ration out of her bag and stared up at the sky through the thick branches.

The night was muted by the flood of light pouring off of the electronic billboards that shrouded the buildings. All night long they kept their vigil, flashing their propaganda and proclaiming the greatness of the nation and its leader. “Strength is in Unity!” declared one, showing a group of citizens standing with arms locked together. Another depicted the Imperialist as a horrible snake wrapped around a baby. “They want to eat our young. Support our troops!” Then the face of a man, stiff and strong, appeared with the words, “Our Great Father cares for his children.”

The high winding squeal of an Airship could be heard in the distance, and after a moment the patrol appeared over the skyscrapers, its searchlights scouring the streets. Every night they loomed above the skyline, supposedly keeping the city safe. These massive beasts reminded So-young of flying whales. She lay still as the creature swam over the park, seeking with its ever watchful eyes. It finished its rounds then with a grown and a roar the whale quickly flew away.

It was there in that quiet night under the leaves that the grief and fear of the day finally caught up with her. Her pain spilled out until the tears and lights fell into sleep.

...

His pounding on the door was met with silence. “Lamb So-young! Open up!” The thin man waited for a moment then pulled a small device from his pocket. He pressed it against the door. A thermal image of the apartment appeared on his pad. He moved the sensor around but found no sign of So-young. The thin man placed his hand on the knob. The bio-scanner read his thumb, and a window popped up on his control pad. He typed in a code and the door unlocked. “Sargent” was his only command. The five soldiers entered the room, safeties off.

“Clear!”

“Clear!”

The thin man stepped into the apartment. He took off his glasses and began violently polishing the already spotless lenses. “Find her!”

...

She awoke to the pleasant song of the birds. Emerging from the fog of sleep, she remembered where she was and lay perfectly still, listening. The city was beginning to wake. After a few minutes she shifted to get a better look around. There wasn't soul in sight, or at least as far as she could tell. Quietly she slipped out from under the bushes and sat on the nearby bench in order to gather herself without raising suspicions.

Looking around, she made her plan for the day. She only needed to make it through the Riverside neighborhood, and then find the old access bridge to the Reserve. She worked through the route in her mind, thinking through the trouble spots. With any luck she should be at the base of the mountains by noon.

Her eyes scanned through the park. There were a few people out now; an old man walking his dog, a few others taking a morning stroll. She got up and causally began walking north. Her legs and back ached from the hard night’s sleep.

One of the screens on the building projected the day’s weather report. It was going to be a nice day. So-young was grateful for that. Then in a flash, as if someone had flipped a switch, all the screens that surrounded the park and all over the city changed to the same image. A picture of So-young with her name, height, and weight. In large letters across the top was the word “Fugitive.”

Her fingers went numb with fear. In the distance, she could hear the high whistling of the whales firing up their engines. So-young quickened her steps, and then forced herself to slow down so as not to draw attention. She looked around frantically. Then she saw it. A place to hide. She walked over to the storm drain, looked around quickly, and dropped her bag down. Feet first, she slid in on her stomach. It was too tight and her ribs began to crunch. Her feet sought something to step on but it was all empty space. The fear of dropping to her death swept over her, but the escalating sound of sirens and whales sobered her up. Forcing all the air out of her lungs gave her chest just enough room. She slipped through and fell into the darkness.

- Click here to read Chapter 3 - 

Sargasso by Peter-John Campbell ©2012

Picture art courtesy of Six Wings Studio