The Deep by Jen Minkman

each time. City Hall. Market. Hospital. And then he
announces the border checkpoint. “Final stop,” he adds. “All
passengers need to leave this bus.”
    Walt gets up and reaches for my hand. “You
coming?”
    We get off and stand there, looking around a
bit forlornly. All the other passengers clearly have business here.
They fan out and disappear into various directions, leaving us
lingering next to the bus stop long after the vehicle has left
again.
    “Let’s walk over to the checkpoint,” Walt
suggests. “Who knows, we might be able to see Exeter from there.”
He doesn’t sound very convinced.
    Slowly, we make our way to the border gate,
and suddenly I feel stupid for wanting to come here so badly. Tony
is right – we’ll never get past the guards. The gate is under
constant surveillance and the fence around Dartmoor is so tall that
we have no way of scaling it to hop over. It’s made of a metallic
material that looks like a net. It reminds me of the aluminum used
in Tony’s devices.
    “So what do we do?” I ask Walt.
    “I don’t know. I bet we don’t look sick
enough to slip through.”
    My eyes sweep the road ahead. I want to know
if any vehicles are leaving Dartmoor, because I just saw a small
van coming into the gate. On the side it says ‘Maintenance’ in big,
colorful letters. It must transport workmen who are responsible for
keeping the fence in optimal condition.
    Just at that moment, I hear someone calling
us. Soft, yet insistent. “Hey. You over there.”
    I turn around at the same time as Walt and
spot a guy our age, his face partially hidden by a ginger fringe.
He’s leaning against the gatehouse and has his eyes fixed on us. As
he pushes off the wall and walks away, he beckons us, his feet
following the line of the impenetrable fence.
    “Now what does he want?” Walt
hisses.
    “No clue, but loitering here is pretty much
pointless. Let’s follow him.”
    The red-haired guy is speeding up
considerably now. He gracefully jumps over the holes and dents in
the earth next to the fence. After about two thousand paces we end
up at a small farm that seems to have nestled up against the fence,
like an animal seeking shelter and safety. Only then does the boy
turn around. He smiles when he sees we’ve followed him – he might
have thought we wouldn’t.
    “Hi,” I begin insecurely. “I’m Leia. And this
is Walt.”
    “Victor,” he introduces himself before
falling silent and taking us in with narrowed eyes. “You both want
to go outside?”
    My eyes widen. “How do you know?”
    He cocks his head. “I can tell. I’m trained
to spot people who want to, you know. Otherwise me and my mom
wouldn’t be able to help refugees. It’s not like they come to the
border carrying big signs saying ‘Get Me Out’ if they want to
leave.”
    “People – can’t leave here?” Walt
stammers.
    Victor raises an eyebrow. “You’re clearly not
from around here. That’s what I thought. Your accent is kind of
strange, too. But, no Walt, people can’t leave here. Everybody
signs a contract and afterwards the government wants to keep them
inside. The less influence from outside, the better. No unrest, no
iffy diseases, no trouble. President Jacob takes good care of his
flock, so what could they possibly want out there?” He sniffs
contemptuously. “Isn’t it funny that Dartmoor used to be a prison
in the old days? Very – fitting, so to speak.”
    I can’t believe my ears. The whole situation
is even worse than I thought. “So everybody’s trapped here?” I ask,
my voice cracking.
    The hardness in Victor’s face dissolves. His
eyes take on a hint of sadness. “No. Most people are fine living
like this. This way they don’t have to think about what should be
changed.”
    “Can you help us to get to Exeter?” Walt
asks. “That’s why we want to leave.”
    “Exeter?” Victor echoes. “What the hell
for?”
    “That’s none of your business,” I snap
impatiently. “Can you help us