The Hill: A Short Story (Voices of the Apocalypse Book 3) by Simone Pond

The Hill

    T HAT WARM J UNE night was the final time the five of us would meet at Gore’s hill. We didn’t know it was the last time we’d meet there, or the last real cigarettes we’d smoke together. We just knew it was the first day of summer break, and the first year none of us had summer school. We wanted to commemorate the occasion. With the Repatterning in effect, we didn’t have too much else to celebrate. The past two years had been rough on everyone, and it seemed like things were only getting more annoying. The new law keepers––the lame Planners––had been gradually taking away our freedoms. Soon there’d be none left. We had to meet at the hill to make some sort of stand.
    Right after dinner, I left the house with my younger sister, Andi. Our ex-military father was a real stickler for nightly meals together. Though we weren’t sure why, since he ignored us the whole time. We headed down the street to our meeting spot. We only had an hour to spend with our friends before curfew—not the mandated curfew the Planners had enforced sometime during the initial phases of the Repatterning. Thanks to our strict father, we had “house curfew” that was even earlier than the mandated one. He had fought in Afghanistan back in 2004, and though that was over twenty years ago, he couldn’t seem to shake his military standards, or his buzz cut. The man didn’t mess around––the last time I missed curfew, he put me on a two-month restriction, and I ended up missing the homecoming dance. I wasn’t about to miss out on summer. Regardless of the asshole Repatterning.
    “Can you believe how hot it is already?” Andi asked.
    She pulled her thick, black hair into a ponytail to keep the humidity from frizzing it up. Her favorite hair straightening treatment had been removed from the shelves, forcing her to spend hours laboring over her hair, blowing out every curl and kink. I had recently shaved my head, so I didn’t need to worry about my curls puffing up.  
    “Yeah, it’s pretty hot,” I said. “The Planners are gonna start monitoring everyone’s central air. So get used to it. Might consider shaving your head, too.” I tugged her ponytail.
    “Um, like you? No way!”
    We were the first ones to arrive at the hill. The place wasn’t a public park or anything like that. It was actually the Gore’s backyard, but they didn’t mind the neighborhood kids using it as a hangout. In all the years we’d been using their property––doing questionable things––none of us recalled ever seeing anyone from the Gore household. In the winter, we’d get drunk and go sledding down their hill, and in the summer, we’d perch at the top, smoking and drinking. It was the one place we felt shielded from our parents. And the Repatterning police.  
    Lynn showed up wearing a tank top and a mini-skirt that made her legs look like toothpicks. She lit a cigarette before saying “hi” to either of us.  
    “Been craving this all day.” She exhaled a cloud of smoke into the dense, humid air.  
    We had to be conservative with our cigarettes, which were only available on the super expensive black market. Banning tobacco crops was just another lame law the Planners had implemented. Lately, getting a real cigarette was tougher than getting drugs. But we weren’t about to waste what little money we had on those shitty e-cigs.
    “Look.” Andi pointed at the trees, laughing.
    Kristina bustled from the shadows, frenetically glancing over her shoulder to make sure her mother hadn’t followed her. Her mother was worse than our father in the strict arena. The four of us walked to the top of the hill, assuming that Lee would show up late. By the time she arrived, we were finished with our cigarettes.  
    “Where’s mine?” she asked.
    “I didn’t think you were coming, so I went ahead and smoked yours.” Lynn smiled.
    “Typical,” Lee said, flipping off Lynn.
    “You can have the rest of mine. I didn’t smoke the