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