The Untouchables

Epilogue

Atoma is divided into four Sectors.

To the west is our farmland. It's where the country gets all of its produce, stone, and solar power. The Monarch's sweethearts, his favorites.

In the east are the abandoned towns and lumber mills, hidden in the dense forests crawling with the ruthless, mutated beasts that claimed the woods.

In the center is our capital, The Monarch's Sector. It's where all of our money and resources go. The wealthiest of all of the Sectors. They have parades, festivals, and an abundance of food, while those of us in the outlying Sectors are left to fend for ourselves, and ultimately die a slow, painful death.

Lastly, to the south, along the green waters of the ocean, is the Fishing Sector. Where the Monarch used to get his fish, pearls, glass, and hydropower.

My home.

The air reeked of sulfur and burnt, melted metal as I walked over scorched rubble covering the cobblestone streets of my Home Sector.

Everything was burnt to black, smoldering piles of ash.

Every building that was made of wood, was in a pile of charred charcoal next to the crumbling, scorched walls of their brick building counterparts.

The housing quarter buildings were all made of bricks, leaving them standing, but only barely. Their walls were a hue of grayish-black instead of their natural red, yellow, or blue colorings. From the fires set inside of them, their walls were one good kick on the base from fully crumbling.

The shops in the square seemed to have been torched as well, and the fountain was covered in more of the black and red propaganda graffiti.

It still would've felt like home, but there was a complete absence of anybody over the age of sixteen.

Every. Single. Adult. Was missing.

Leaving an entire Sector's worth of children alone to fend for themselves.

I looked out beyond the chain link fences that surrounded my little town. Past the fields, service roads, and Ranger warehouses, I could see the next town over was facing the same problem we were. All of their buildings were blackened with ash, half the building being reduced to rubble and ashes. Except there didn't seem to be any signs of human life. I could only see a few stray dogs, scavenging the burnt remains of their home for scraps of food.

I kicked a piece of stone rubble. It completely shattered on impact even though I'd barely touched it, showing how much all of the remaining buildings were still standing.

We'd hear planes roar over the Sector every night, causing everyone to run and cower inside any building. If you were caught outside at night by one of these planes, you were as good as dead. Shot on site.

I didn't know how we were alive, but we were. We were safe for the meantime, but if I've learned anything, it's to know that we are his puppets. His slaves. He uses us for his own benefit, and when he no longer has any use for us, he gets rid of us. But if he has a particular use for you, he'll strip you from your home, and experiment on you, giving you some ability for his own personal army.

I felt the weight of the wings on my back. I'd thought they were a curse, but I see them as a weapon. Those prisoners in the Penitentiary called me their Angel. The Winged One.

I'm still standing, and will work tirelessly to free us from this cycle. But one thing is for sure.

No one is safe here.