The Fence Mender

Chapter One

Before I built a wall I'd ask to know

What I was walling in or walling out...

- Robert Frost, "The Mending Wall"

Chapter One

Everyone stopped as the doors to the courthouse opened. Every eye turned, and every conversation went silent. It was almost as if time had stopped, everyone was frozen in place as they watched Joseph Hurst being led down the large stone steps and into the cobblestone courtyard. The Sentries guided him towards the front gate in a scene that was all too familiar for the residents of Fawcett City. Joseph Hurst could feel their eyes as they walked him down the street, his feet being dragged over the groove of every brick. He knew his fate but would not accept it without protest.

"This isn't right!" he screamed. "You can't just leave me to die!"

The intensity in his voice—the fear—could almost be felt like a cold echo emanating through the streets. He continued to struggle, for what little good it did him.

"Come on brothers—you don't have to do this!" he begged, his tone changing from raw anger to genuine fear.

Then he heard the sound of the creaky gears moving, the large steel spurs catching one another. The loud noise only meant one thing: the front gate was being opened. Hurst looked straight ahead as the light of the setting sun began to cut through the gap between the large metal doors.

"No...." He felt the grim reality of his situation begin to sink in.

He looked at the top of the wall where the Sentry Commander stood staring down at him as he passed through the doors and into the outside world. They immediately began to close; the bottoms dragged against the concrete, the shaft of light that flooded the city was slowly fading, and the sound of clashing metal drowned out Hurst's pleas for help.

It was only a few hundred yards through the fields of tall grass before Hurst gave up his struggle. He looked out to the large fence that surrounded the city: a twenty-foot tall barrier of barbed wire woven between towering posts every twenty feet. It was a new sight for him: the rusty orange sky with a few clouds strewn across the horizon and a forest full of trees swaying in the gentle breeze. He barely noticed one of the Sentries opening a gated door and leading them into the woods. Once in the forest, they removed Hurst's shackles.

"Go that way," said the sentry, pointing deeper into the woods. "If you try to come back or even so much as turn around, I'll shoot you dead where you stand. Got it?"

Hurst nodded, looking to the high-powered rifle the sentry held. With one deep breath, Hurst took a step forward, then another, rubbing his wrists which were still raw from the shackles. He looked back over his shoulder, looking for any sign of remorse or a second thought from the Sentries, but there was none. All he could see was the cold, calculating look of those who had become all too accustomed to this ritual. One by one they started to walk towards the fence, leaving Hurst to journey into the woods alone.

It wasn't at all what he expected, but he had little reference. This was the first time he had walked anywhere other than the hard, stone streets of the city. The soft earth beneath his feet felt almost comforting, the sound of the branches swaying in the wind slowly calmed his beating heart. Then he heard another sound, something in the brush ahead, like footsteps walking over dried leaves. His eyes darted left and right, looking for any sign of life, but there was none, only the feeling of something moving to his left. Hurst stopped, quickly looking over to the thick brush that surrounded him. If there was anything or anyone there, he couldn't see it.

As he took his next step, he heard the noise again, this time coming from behind. All he could do was forge ahead, walking down the narrow path deeper into the woods. The sun was slowly settling in under the horizon, the burnt orange color of the sky turning to a warm pink. It wouldn't be long before he was immersed in darkness, a thought that drove him to move faster. The noise seemed to multiply, coming from the left, then behind, then to the right. Before long, it seemed as if they were coming from everywhere at once. His walk turned to a jog, then to a run, and then to a dead sprint, but there was no outrunning the sound. He ran until he could barely hear it over the pounding of his heart and the gasping of his lungs. Finally, his legs gave out as his tired body fell to the ground.

Hurst knew this would be the outcome. He paused for a moment before opening his eyes. They already surrounded him. Though he could see little more than their feet, there was at least a dozen. Had he any breath left in him, he would have screamed. Instead, his eyes widened and lips quivered as they descended at the very moment light was consumed by darkness.