The Burn by Annie Oldham Page A

they don’t
think there’s anything here. The government leaves it alone as long
as they don’t know we’re here. But you probably know that, it must
be similar down south.”
    This time I’m ready for questions. I nod and try to
appear understanding, though the only thing I understand is about
the city. Gaea told me it was illegal to live outside one. Gaea
also mentioned Arizona when we discussed where I should go. I’m
from Arizona. It’s inhospitable, surely I would want to leave it
for somewhere greener. That isn’t too far from the truth, really. I
can feed him lies veiled in half-truths.
    He motions to a door. “Here we are. This is where I
live.”
    The room is the size of a classroom down in the
colony. I half-expected to see it full of desks, but most of them
are gone. Two desks remain, used for tables and storage space. A
watcher haunts a corner of the ceiling, but just like in the
cafeteria, its lens is destroyed. I remember what Gaea said about
privacy invasions to prevent terrorism. Were the watchers part of
that? Did the survivors rebel before or after the Event?
    “Want to come in?”
    I nod. A mattress lays on the floor, covered with a
well-patched blanket. A candle is propped in a cup on one of the
desks next to the bed. A few yellowed books are stacked on the
floor. A small window is flung open to let the breeze waft through
the room and clear the summer stuffiness. I breathe deeply. The air
smells warm and grassy.
    “It’s like you’re experiencing everything for the
first time. The rain when we found you this morning, the oatmeal,
and now this.”
    He sits on the bed. “I wish I could talk with you
easier.” He clears his throat. His gaze is so intense I turn away.
I notice an old dog-eared, torn copy of Jane Eyre . I have
never held a book in my hands; all of our texts are digital. Mr.
Klein has some of the only physical books in the colony. I
carefully run my fingers over the cover.
    “I smuggled those here. My dad found them in an
illegal library. After that ridiculous book ban ten years before
the Event—”
    They called it the Event, too.
    “Everyone tried to snatch up books before they were
all burned. Isn’t it crazy? Stop people reading to try to stop them
getting violent ideas. Sometimes I think it was finally about time
they blew each other up.” Then he clears his throat again and drops
his eyes. Can he get in trouble for saying such things? I
reverently place the book on top of the stack.
    “I need to know where you’re from and why you’re
here.”
    I sit down on the corner of his bed, carefully as far
away from him on there as I can be. This delicate moment could ruin
me. I’m not ready to let it go now. I motion for a piece of paper
and a writing utensil. He scrounges around for a few minutes.
    “We only use these to record what we hear on the
radio. We try to use these sparingly, but I think now is a good
time.”
    He hands me a yellowed piece of paper and a stubby
pencil, and I put the paper on the desk and write.
    “Arizona? You’re a long way from home. Well, that
explains the sunburn.”
    I nod.
    “But why’d you leave?”
    I write again.
    “The desert?” He laughs. “Yeah, I bet. You came to
the right place then.”
    I smile along with him. This is easier than I
thought.
    “Did you come by yourself? Does anyone else know
you’re here?”
    There it is again—that seriousness. The fierce
protection of the settlement, but from what? I remember the men
Dave killed yesterday.
    I’m not sure how to answer. Is it believable for a
girl like me to travel alone? Did people do that here? The citizens
are required to live in cities. I come from the outside. Dave lives
on the outside. But could I have traveled this whole way without
getting caught? The pencil hovers over the paper. Dave sits
expectantly, his face neutral, not betraying a good answer. I
scribble furiously, and my stomach drops with the lies I weave.
    “Your mom died, so you decided it was time to