that the stores were going to explode as soon as the fire penetrated the interior rooms.
And they did.
The blasts had lit up the night sky with green, blue, yellow and finally bright red flames. The first blast had knocked him off his feet. He landed roughly, smashing one of his water canisters open against the remains of the old road. He rolled himself off the crumbling bitumen, down a nearby embankment and waited for the blasts to stop.
He must have sat there for hours, but at least he wasn’t using up a lot of air filter. He could hear the ground rumbling and a shrill shriek of metal scraping on metal. The 5.00am train was tearing down the track. He was closer to it than he’d thought, but it was also a lot later in the day than he’d hoped. He moved closer to the line.
Jessie wished that the trains were slower; he could jump on the back of one and ride it to the city. But it was too dangerous. Everything was too dangerous. Cool air rushed over his face as the train hurtled towards the Citadel. Somewhat relieved, Jessie pulled himself up, checked his provisions and made a rough bindle out of his button-up shirt. He pulled his cowl around his head.
Anything to keep the muck out of my hair and ears.
It was warm enough to only wear a t-shirt, but it meant that he would be absolutely filthy by the time he reached his destination.
If he reached it.
His father and his band of associates had been very negative about the Citadel. Their regular discussions were punctuated with slogans like ‘no freedom’, ‘police state’, ‘thought control’, and ‘Big Brother’. When Jessie had asked about the Citadel, his father had said that they didn’t want people like them. They were considered to be radicals and unacceptable ‘independent business people’.
Jessie thought that his dad’s mate, Sol, was more on the money. He’d said that they didn’t want them because they were drug producers and traffickers. What was really scary though, was that Sol had told him that if you were arrested you were put to death. Almost everyone was. Especially drug manufacturers. At least that’s what Sol had said. You were either used for experiments, or executed and your organs harvested by the hospitals. What Sol considered worse than that was the prospect of going in for rehabilitation. He’d never told Jessie what that involved though.
Jessie’s dad had also said that he didn’t want to go to the Citadel because he was one of the few fertile men left. He’d said that he would be kept against his will and treated like a cow.
Olive had told Jessie that it was unlikely that his father was still fertile, as he’d been breathing in the atmosphere of the Outlands for too long. Besides, he’d not produced a child since Jessie, and that was at least 12, maybe as many as 13, years ago. She’d also reassured him that he would not be ‘treated like a cow’ if he went to the city. Jessie had been born into the polluted atmosphere of the Outlands, and it was unlikely that he was fertile now, if he’d ever been. It sounded very confusing.
Olive had also reassured Jessie that if he were to go to the Citadel, he wouldn’t be considered to be a criminal. Not at his age. She indicated that she would make sure of it. Jessie didn’t understand why the word of a bookseller would count for anything, but he trusted her anyway. She’d suggested that he would be assigned a new family and sent to school. Jessie thought that it sounded good. He was a little concerned about starting over, but he’d heard that the new settlements had clean air, clean houses, and more importantly for him, other kids.
When Olive had last been by to collect a shipment, she’d pulled Jessie aside and asked him if he wanted to come back with her. She’d told him not to tell his dad, and he didn’t. He didn’t go with her though; he was too scared about getting in trouble. He now wished that he’d been
And they did.
The blasts had lit up the night sky with green, blue, yellow and finally bright red flames. The first blast had knocked him off his feet. He landed roughly, smashing one of his water canisters open against the remains of the old road. He rolled himself off the crumbling bitumen, down a nearby embankment and waited for the blasts to stop.
He must have sat there for hours, but at least he wasn’t using up a lot of air filter. He could hear the ground rumbling and a shrill shriek of metal scraping on metal. The 5.00am train was tearing down the track. He was closer to it than he’d thought, but it was also a lot later in the day than he’d hoped. He moved closer to the line.
Jessie wished that the trains were slower; he could jump on the back of one and ride it to the city. But it was too dangerous. Everything was too dangerous. Cool air rushed over his face as the train hurtled towards the Citadel. Somewhat relieved, Jessie pulled himself up, checked his provisions and made a rough bindle out of his button-up shirt. He pulled his cowl around his head.
Anything to keep the muck out of my hair and ears.
It was warm enough to only wear a t-shirt, but it meant that he would be absolutely filthy by the time he reached his destination.
If he reached it.
His father and his band of associates had been very negative about the Citadel. Their regular discussions were punctuated with slogans like ‘no freedom’, ‘police state’, ‘thought control’, and ‘Big Brother’. When Jessie had asked about the Citadel, his father had said that they didn’t want people like them. They were considered to be radicals and unacceptable ‘independent business people’.
Jessie thought that his dad’s mate, Sol, was more on the money. He’d said that they didn’t want them because they were drug producers and traffickers. What was really scary though, was that Sol had told him that if you were arrested you were put to death. Almost everyone was. Especially drug manufacturers. At least that’s what Sol had said. You were either used for experiments, or executed and your organs harvested by the hospitals. What Sol considered worse than that was the prospect of going in for rehabilitation. He’d never told Jessie what that involved though.
Jessie’s dad had also said that he didn’t want to go to the Citadel because he was one of the few fertile men left. He’d said that he would be kept against his will and treated like a cow.
Olive had told Jessie that it was unlikely that his father was still fertile, as he’d been breathing in the atmosphere of the Outlands for too long. Besides, he’d not produced a child since Jessie, and that was at least 12, maybe as many as 13, years ago. She’d also reassured him that he would not be ‘treated like a cow’ if he went to the city. Jessie had been born into the polluted atmosphere of the Outlands, and it was unlikely that he was fertile now, if he’d ever been. It sounded very confusing.
Olive had also reassured Jessie that if he were to go to the Citadel, he wouldn’t be considered to be a criminal. Not at his age. She indicated that she would make sure of it. Jessie didn’t understand why the word of a bookseller would count for anything, but he trusted her anyway. She’d suggested that he would be assigned a new family and sent to school. Jessie thought that it sounded good. He was a little concerned about starting over, but he’d heard that the new settlements had clean air, clean houses, and more importantly for him, other kids.
When Olive had last been by to collect a shipment, she’d pulled Jessie aside and asked him if he wanted to come back with her. She’d told him not to tell his dad, and he didn’t. He didn’t go with her though; he was too scared about getting in trouble. He now wished that he’d been
Similar Books
