The Sector

Chapter Thirteen

"But... What's wrong with them?" Seth asked.

Darbee was quiet for a moment. "I don't know," he said finally.

"What do you mean, you don't know?" Seth pressed. "If there's a war coming there has to be something wrong. There has to be a reason."

"I mean exactly what I said: I don't know what's wrong with them. I've seen photographs and film clips and they seem just as normal as you or I, but all I know is that there's been a lot of violence in the past, and that there's a very long history of conflict in particular between the Blacks and the Whites—"

"The Blacks and the Whites?" Seth interrupted.

"That's what we call each other. I guess it's just the easiest way to differentiate between us—by the respective colours of our skin. The problem is, though, from what I've gathered, we were the ones who ignited the flame; we were the ones who set the world ablaze. The Blacks have been attacked by the Whites for generations, and I could be wrong—no one else in the Sector sees it the same way I do—but to me it seems like they're just defending themselves. I don't know; I suppose something must have happened at some point... They must be dangerous or they must have done something unspeakable to warrant the magnitude of the attack we've been preparing for in the Sector... That's the only explanation I can see."

Seth was quiet for a long while after that. He pondered what Darbee had said, sifting through his thoughts and feelings and trying as hard as he could to imagine what someone would look like with skin that wasn't white.

Eventually, he spoke up again. "How big is the world outside the Sector?" he asked.

Darbee thought for a moment. "If I'm honest, I'm not really sure. It's big—I know that much—but I can't say exactly how big."

"What's it like? Are there more places like this?"

"From what I've seen of it, the outside world is very different to ours. It's much bigger and much brighter and much louder, but also much worse. There are conflicts left and right; the it hasn't known true peace for centuries, if at all. From what I've heard from Gianna, there are fourteen Sectors in total. We're number three. You wouldn't believe the things that are out there, Seth. The buildings and the cars and the clothes... It's amazing."

"We have to go there," Seth stated in a flat voice. "We have to go outside."

"What? Why?"

"Think about it, Darbee. If we stay here, they'll hunt us down; they won't stop until we're dead. And," he added, "if we stay here, there's no way for us to stop the program. If we get out though, we can show people what they're doing here—the journal is proof of it—and we can get their help. We can stop this war before it even starts."

Darbee was quiet. "I don't know if I'm cut out for th—"

The screeching sound of a siren sliced through the air from behind them. Seth and Darbee spun together and took in the sight of three small, fast-moving cars gaining on them.

"What do we do?" Seth yelled over the blaring sound.

"I don't know!" came Darbee's reply.

Seth did the only thing he could think of—slammed the pedal down hard. The truck lurched and gained speed, but the cars kept pace easily. They couldn't outrun them.

"Are there weapons in this thing?" Seth called.

Darbee's brow furrowed, then his face wiped clean, realisation dawning in his eyes. "Yes!"

He undid his seatbelt and scrambled into the truck bed. Seth heard large metal cases being opened and the clanging and banging of Darbee rummaging through them.