We see images of grasslands, beaches, lakes. We
are meant to know what we will be missing. Soon, these images fade
into what looks like surveillance footage and images of faces. Some
of the faces I recognize as the people in this room. This footage
forces these people to relive their crimes. Other faces I do not
recognize. Women, children, rotation anniversary parties. This film
plays like it’s a family photograph album. That’s when I begin to
hear the voices. Women crying, pleading. Small children speaking,
calling out to their parents. The message is clear:
Look what
you have done to your families. Look what you have done to your
children. All you had to do was obey.
I hear voices; the
banished are whispering to themselves. I can see the man sitting to
my left. He is hunched forward as far as our restraints will allow,
openly sobbing. Someone is screaming. This is a level of cruelty
that I had never imagined. The banished is not allowed to push the
reality from his mind; he is forced to watch, to view the life
he’ll never have and the people he’ll never see again. It’s not
enough for The Sententia to banish us; they aim to break us,
too.
I find myself wondering,
Did my mother see
images of me? Did she feel regret that she’d never know me?
I
don’t know the answer, but I think probably not. My mother was far
too absorbed by her cause to care about anything else. I can feel
my bitterness returning. My mother sat in one of these chairs, but
she did not cry. She did not mourn me or my father. She only
thought about what she could do for the resistance.
We must be nearing Earth because the projection
draws to a close and a woman dressed in the familiar uniform of The
Vox appears on-screen. She smiles cheerfully and begins to
speak.
“
As we approach Earth, I will
give you the instructions that you will need. Before exiting the
transport, you will be given a pack that contains some
necessities—enough food and water for three days. That is the
amount of time that it should take for you to make the journey to
the nearest water source on foot. Please be mindful of the
timeframe. The surface is very hot, and it will not take long for
dehydration to set in. You have also been provided with tools for
navigation and a small weapon. Finally, within your pack you will
find a cloth to be used to cover your head and face, as well as
clothes that are more suitable to the climate. On Earth, the
temperatures are exceedingly high during the day… and very low at
night. Thank you for your attention.”
She smiles again and then the screen turns off,
once again a blank wall. I take a deep breath. There’s no turning
back now.
I remember that Cecil said that it would be
safer to remain with a group. I look around to survey my companions
and decide which of them would be most helpful in a survival
situation. Sadly, most of them look despondent. I don’t think many
of these people plan to survive. I see a few, though. Namely, a man
who reminds me of Eli. He looks strong. He’d probably be an asset
during a scuffle. I decide to keep him in mind.
It is not long before Officer Dorian comes to
retrieve us. He does not seem to be surprised by the tears. I
suppose he must be used to it by now. We are reorganized into our
single-file line and re-cuffed to our fellows. Rather than leading
us back the way we came in, we are led in the opposite direction.
We get into an elevator large enough to accommodate a small
transport ship and Officer Dorian presses his seal into the lock
while simultaneously holding a button labeled
ROOF
. When we
reach the top, our elevator is no longer a room, but a platform.
When it comes to a stop, we are standing on the flat top of the
ship. Immediately we must close our eyes against the brightness. I
stagger under the weight of the most extreme heat that I have ever
felt. How could my father have thought this was livable? I can
hardly breathe in the air here.
Officer Dorian begins to speak. As he does, I
note that there are several other members of the crew placed above
us, weapons ready. “All right. This is how it works. When it is
your turn, you will step forward. I will release you from your
shackles and give you your pack. Please remember that your pack is
your survival. Lose it, and lose your life. It’s just that simple.
When your pack is secured, you will exit the aircraft here.” He
motions to the edge of the roof where a large cushion-type object
has been inflated. It seems that we are to slide down. I wonder why
we don’t just leave using the ramp like before, but then I realize
that it must not be uncommon for people to try to board the ship to
escape Earth Banishment. This method ensures that no one can rush
the ship; it would be impossible to climb up.
I am not at the front of the line. I am closer
to the end, but I will still jump before David. I watch as the
people in front of me approach Officer Dorian; most of them are
crying. Some of them plead with him. Always, Dorian simply hands
them their survival pack and motions toward the slide. When it is
my turn, he locks eyes with me and says, “Listen, but do not
respond. There have been incidences when some of the banished have
attacked their fellows to obtain their survival packs. You are
small; you have probably already been targeted. Remember, there is
a weapon in the pack: a small knife. It’s not of much use in a
fight—it’s more for cleaning meat—but it could be the difference
between life and death for you. Draw the knife from the front
pocket and make sure everyone can see you holding it. As soon as
you hit the ground, run. They will not be expecting it, and if they
are planning to attack you, they will probably decide to wait for
someone who is less prepared rather than giving chase. There is a
rock formation in your path. When you come to it, change into the
clothes provided; it will not take long for sun sickness to set in,
and the clothes in your pack are heat resistant. I will tell your
partner that you are waiting for him there. I’ve put an extra
ration of water in both of your packs, but that’s all I can do.
Remember, you must return in one week. I’m being removed from this
detail and that will be the last transport that I oversee. If you
miss it, you will not return to Cerno.”
I can only hope that my face displays the
gratitude that I feel. Officer Dorian hands me my pack and motions
to the edge of the roof. “By the way,” he says quietly, “I heard
about that stunt you pulled in Summus. Using a pilot’s code to
steal a transport?” He smirks. “Nicely done.”
I smile in acknowledgement, then I walk to the
edge and look over. Though the slide’s incline is gradual, I will
have only moments to draw the knife from my pack. I position the
straps so the pouch is on the front of my body rather than the
back, and as I jump, I open the pocket.
It seems like no time at all before I reach the
bottom, but when I do, I notice that none of the people down here
are alive. There are six bodies lying on the ground. Their blood
soaks into the desert sand. Their packs are gone. I was the tenth
person to jump, which means that three of the banished are working
as a pack. They are most likely hiding, waiting for me to get off
of the slide. I ready the knife, and this time I do not question
whether or not I could use it. I jump off of the slide and begin to
run as fast as I can. When I have gone what I feel is a good
distance, I turn around to see if anyone is pursuing me. Dorian was
right. Either they’ve already moved on, or they’ve decided that my
pack is not worth the exertion that a chase would entail. I see no
one. I point my body toward the rock formation in the distance, and
I keep running.
When I reach the rock formation, I climb to the
top. There is a notch in the rock just large enough so that I can
stand behind it without being seen while still surveying the ground
to see if I am being approached. My thirst is overwhelming, but I
remember what Dorian said. I must change into my heat-resistant
clothes or I’ll die of sun sickness before we ever reach Amara. I
pull the clothes from the pack; they are very strange. The fabric
is off-white, almost the color of the sand, but not quite. The
pants are loose-fitting everywhere but the waist, where the band
clings to me tightly; this will be useful—it wouldn’t help much if
my pants fell off while I was running. The shirt is also loose; the
sleeve openings are wide. Though they fall all the way to my
wrists, the fabric and openings allow air to pass through, cooling
me by several degrees. The next piece of clothing is confusing at
first. Initially, I think that it’s a blanket, but I realize that
it’s a cloak with no sleeves. The arm openings are simply slits in
the fabric. The cloak falls all the way to my ankles. Finally, I
don the head covering. The hat is a piece of fabric sewn in the
shape of my head. It’s long enough all the way around to overlap my
shirt and provide sun coverage for my neck. The face piece is just
another piece of the fabric that provides the option of face
coverage. If I choose, I can wrap it around the lower part of my
face, or allow it to hang down. I decide to wrap it. The rest of my
body has been cooled considerably, and I decide to trust the
fabric.
When I am fully clothed, the only skin exposed
is my hands and a small section of my face from just above my
eyebrows to just below the bridge of my nose. Dorian was right;
immediately this fabric begins to alleviate the symptoms of sun
sickness that I was already feeling after just a short time in the
sun. It’s not only heat resistant; it seems that the heat is being
drawn out of my body. This is not to say that I do not still feel
the heat; it is almost stifling, but I know that this fabric is the
difference between life and death. But why? Why would The Sententia
send us to die on Earth but give us the tools to survive? After a
few moments of thinking, I realize: the crushing heat would send
our bodies into shock and we would die quickly. But The Sententia
did not send us here to die. They sent us here to suffer. They will
save us from the sun, but leave us for each other.
It is not long before I begin to worry about
David. He should be here by now. It’s possible that he did not
escape the bandits at the Traveler. He may be lying among the dead.
I make a decision, but it is not without anguish; if David is not
here by morning, I’ll go without him to Amara.
I knew that this would happen; I tried to stop
him from following me here, but he would not see reason. Now he may
be dead. The last person alive that I love, and he may be dead now
along with my father. Along with my mother. I reach into my pack
and find my father’s pocket watch. I had it in the pocket of my
prisoner’s uniform, but now I tuck it into the fold at my
waistband. As angry as I am at my mother, as much as I don’t
understand why I wasn’t enough for her to stay, I can’t stop myself
from loving her simply because she was my mother. This is all I
have left of her or my father. I have nothing left of David.
No sooner have I had this thought than I hear
someone approaching. Sand is a relatively quiet walking surface,
but whoever it is, he is breathing heavily. I hear coughing and
groaning. I look around the edge of the stone that hides me from
view. Three people are approaching, but they are only silhouettes
against the setting sun. I cannot see who they are. I don’t want to
expose myself until I know if they are friend or foe.
As they get closer, I see that the two figures
on the outside are supporting the one in the middle; he needs help
to walk. He is either injured or sun-sick. Now I can see that they
are all men. The injured one in the middle stumbles and falls, and
the others can no longer support him. They refuse to abandon him.
They grab his arms and begin to pull him toward my rock formation,
and I can watch no longer. Surely they will not hurt me if I only
mean to help.
I climb down from my notch and walk toward the
men. They are less than twenty feet away. I hold up my hands, but
they look at me with faces so exhausted that I know they don’t care
whether I’m here to hurt them or not. None of the three are wearing
their desert clothes; no wonder they’re sick. They’ve been in the
sun for hours. I continue to approach, now more quickly. I look
down at the man who has collapsed; it’s David.
In a panic, I call out his name. I shake him,
but he does not rouse. I open his pack to retrieve a ration of
water and I dribble some into his mouth. I can see him swallow, but
he does not respond. I put the water back in the pack and for the
first time look into the faces of David’s companions. One of them I
recognize; the man from the transport who looks like Eli. He gives
me a weary smile and says, “You must be this Violet we’ve been
hearing about. I’m Foster.” He gestures to his companion, “And this
is Saul.” The other’s appearance is less encouraging. If I had to
describe to someone what a criminal looks like, it would be this
man. His eyes are cold; he does not smile or even acknowledge that
he’s been introduced. His hands are covered in tattoos depicting
swirling symbols and I can see more peeking from the collar of his
shirt. He sees me looking and puts his hands in his pockets.
I nod. “Yes, I’m Violet.” I look down at David.
I look at both of their exhausted faces. “You’ve got to change into
the clothes in your packs. I promise, you’ll feel better.”
They nod. Without a word, I pick up David’s feet
and the two men each grab one of his hands to bring him the rest of
the way to the rock formation. I give David more water and let him
rest while the men change. David is soon well enough to sit up, and
I help him change into his desert clothes. I try not to look, but I
can’t help but notice the muscles in his arms and back contracting
as he puts his shirt on. I must be blushing.