27 / 145
27
Clandestine
the futuristic landscape.
Clandestine looks at this map, thirty years later. She is sixteen
now, her eyes wiser, her hair longer. She is told that she is one of
the only designer children left in the world; most of them were
killed at the beginning of the war. What she does not see is why
they were killed. Children like her were the key to the rebuilding
of human life after the crisis, and she thinks it’s funny how no one
appreciates the existence of something until they need it.
She spends days studying this map, trying to figure out what
the red cross slashed across it is. Her time is limited, though,
because in a few days, the government is coming to scan the
orphanage for designer children. They can’t keep her there any
more.
She takes a small boy of eleven with her. His name is Arrowplix.
They navigate through forgotten forests, ruined buildings, and
somehow end up in a motel owned by an old lady. The lady is
skeptical at first, but allows them to stay in one of her rooms until
the authorities roaming outside leave the area.
They watch the news from small television in the motel room,
losing count of the passing days, until the old lady tells them sadly
that they are due to leave. Their safety is compromised out there
in the war torn city, but if they stay, they aren’t guaranteed
protection either.
As they leave the motel, Clandestine notices a man nearby
chopping wood.
Who chops wood nowadays
? she murmurs to herself.
And already, without doing anything, he is already on her list of
suspicious people. She is about to tell Arrowplix not to approach
him, not to say a word, but it is too late.
The man’s reflexes are quicker than her expectations and he
spins around. His eyes flash in recognition and he edges closer
towards them.
She closes her eyes. There are more people moving in on them.
She can feel it. The hairs on the back of her neck are standing up.
There are goosebumps starting to form on her arms. Her legs are
shaking, almost like they are prompting her to run.
Her fight or flight instinct is kicking in, and she’s fighting to
keep still.
Think
, she urges herself,
think
.
But she can’t think because in approximately five seconds, a
squad of armed soldiers are going to close in on them. She needs
7