Into The Outside

1

"Apples! Get your apples, right here folks! Fresh and juicy, get your apples!"

I leaned in the doorway of an abandoned building, watching the fat, greasy man trying to sell his apples to the all the poor villagers shopping in the market. He knew very well that no one could afford an apple, they were too expensive. And even if they could afford it, they would buy something cheaper so they could get more of it. People were starving, and no one had time for apples. 

I always hung around a stand for maybe ten or fifteen minutes before stealthily taking something and slipping into the crowd.

This was what I was doing when my seven year old little brother, Ollie, ran up behind me and tugged on the strap of my bag.

"Not now, Ol," I said, watching the apple cart.

"I'm hungry, Sawyer," he whispered, and I looked down at him. My heart warmed instantly, and I nodded. "I'm getting food right now," I told him. "Go back to the house,"

I leaned forward, letting my dark, blackish blue hair cover half my face.

I'd tried everything to get rid of the color in my hair. I've dyed it, let it grow long, cut it off, rubbed it with remedies and oils. Nothing had ever worked. The bluish tint to my hair would never go away, forever branding me a victim of the Out Fever.

There was a breakout of the Out Fever in our town last year, killing most and morphing the few survivors into unnatural looking freaks. People always said I was lucky. I guess I was. The only things I'd received from the Out Fever was dark blue hair, black rings around my iris's, (Which was very common for Out Fever survivors,) and my freckles and tan skin had disappeared, and pale skin had taken it's place.

Others weren't as lucky as me.

There were people who's faces had altered completely overnight while they tossed and turned in a feverish sleep. People's hair had fallen out and grown back in patches. People's limbs have lost circulation and had to be amputated. People have died.

Pale skin and dark hair was a pretty good match, and the dark rings around my blue eyes gave me a look of intensity I'd never had before. I never complained about the changes the Out Fever had brought upon me. 

Ollie and I were orphans. My Dad had been exiled to the Outside for thievery when I was twelve, and my Mom had caught the Out Fever and died just last year. The color of my hair was a constant reminder that I had survived and she had not, and it hurt to look at myself in the mirror sometimes.

Ollie hadn't caught it at all. Mom had snuck him out of the city at the first signs of sickness. I was supposed to go too, but we couldn't afford it and I insisted on staying. Soon the entire town was quarantined and nobody was aloud in or out. This caused rioting, which spread the sickness faster since everyone was out on the streets, crashing into each other and protesting against the Guards lining the streets. 

In about a week, the only sound was the daily body cart rolling by, collecting the dead. The rest of the story was too painful for me to even think about, so I focused on the task at hand. 

I watched with a small smile as the apple man turned around to get something out of a crate behind him, and I bolted up to the cart and shoved two apples in my bag. I ran away before he even noticed.

"Hey!"

I went onto the sidewalk and tried to walk quickly without looking suspicious, but my hair made it hard to blend in with the crowd.

"Hey! Girl!"

There were several sets of footsteps behind me now, and I turned around and crossed the street, heading towards our house. We lived in a tiny little shack at the end of a dirt road. After Dad got exiled, we had to move from our descent house on Main Street to here while Mom looked for a job that never came. When she died, it basically fell apart, and now it was sort of like half of a house, since the wall sort of started to crumble in the back. We had a tarp hung, but it didn't keep out the bugs or the cold. 

I got there and opened the door, then slammed it behind me.

"Hide, Ollie!" I said, climbing under the single bed in the corner. He joined me there, and we held our breath and waited.

After about a minute, there was a knock on the door. I jumped.

"Open up!" they shouted, pounding so hard the fragile house shook. "We're from The Guard!"

I rolled my eyes. Just because they were from the high and mighty government, (called The Guard, since they apparently guarded us from the Outside) didn't mean they got to barge into other people's houses.

I learned I was wrong when they smashed the lock and walked in, scanning the room down the barrels of their guns.

Ollie leaned forward to see, but I pulled him close to me and covered his mouth with my hand. He struggled, and I held him tighter and felt myself panic when he kicked me in the leg. He didn't understand the urgency of the situation. 

"There's no one here," one of the Guards said, checking the small bathroom.

"What about under the bed?" one of them asked. I seized up as one of them grabbed Ollie's foot. "I got something!" he said, and now Ollie had his arms clasped around my neck for dear life.

"No!" he screamed, kicking at the Guard as he pulled him from my grasp and out into the living room. I slid back farther under the bed, so my back was up against the wall. "It's a kid," one of the Guards said disappointedly. Ollie struggled free and ran out the door. I almost started to cry when I heard two Guards go after him, asking where his parents were. The third Guard swept his arm under the bed, and I sucked in as he came within a hair's width of touching my stomach. He stood and opened the door. I could hear Ollie screaming for me. "Sawyer! Sawyer, help!"

I wanted to climb out from under the bed and help him, but then I would go to jail, and possibly be exiled to the Outside, and no one would be able to take care of him. But if I let them take him, how will I get him back?

I listened as the last Guard told them that I wasn't there, and that they would take Ollie to the orphanage since his parents were dead and he had no guardian.

I'm his guardian... I thought.

When all the commotion had dissipated, I climbed out from under the bed and ran out of the house. The sky was getting dark, and I looked down the street. There was a Guard at the end, walking up and down.

I ran back inside and took Mom's cloak out of the cedar chest in the corner. 

I stepped in front of the small mirror above the bed and pulled the cloak over my shoulders. It fit a little big, but the hood covered my hair so no one would be able to tell that I was the girl who stole the apple. What was the big deal with stealing an apple, anyway?

I walked out of the house and fiddled with the busted lock on the door until it was half fixed, then walked down the road in the direction of the orphanage.

"I'm coming, Ollie," I whispered.