Beyond the Wall

Chapter 2: Choosing Ceremony

Breakfast as usual was awkward. Me sitting there listening to my mom and "dad" argue over nothing. Every time I try to speak up my mom gives me one of those stares that could turn a whole room cold. So I sit there silently, trying not to draw attention to myself. Finally, it was time for me to go to the ceremony. I would much rather be there then have to listen to them argue about the butter being too hard. Like I said; they argue over nothing.
The cool fall air is cold on my face. Making my cheeks flush. I cross my arms; having forgot my jacket. I look up from the sidewalk and take in the usual surrounding. Buildings of all shapes and sizes line the streets causing the road to be colder from their shadows. The mossy cement wall going for miles is behind me where I left my home. And people. Lots of people, crowd the streets. Some young some old. All walking to the choosing ceremony. I pick up my pace; realizing it starts in five minutes.
From the corner of my eye I see a tall figure with jet black hair coming closer to me. Pushing and shoving people to make their way towards my side.
"I don't understand why they send people out to find even more people. It is so god damn crowded I can barely even walk." With that I look to the familiar presence. My best friend Peter stands beside me chuckling at his comment. He is wearing a white button down shirt with holes in the elbows, and faded blue jeans. The only thing keeping up his oversized pants is a shoelace. Below the cut of his jeans is a pair of worn out tennis shoes. The only pair he owns.
"Where did you get those?" I point my finger to his pants. He looks down following the direction of my finger and shrugs.
"My dad. It was either this or what I wear everyday."
I nod in approval "huh... You look nice." I look up at him giving him a little grin. He looks at me and looks away hiding his blushed face.
I look forward, realizing everyone in front is slowing down. A big building towers overhead. It isn't like any other building in this city though. It looks almost as if it has been polished. Not like any other. The sun gives off a reflection from the building illuminating light into the street. As people are piling in I realize figures standing on the sides. Soldiers. They have green jumpsuits with a big belt wrapping around their hips and guns at their shoulders. They never used it on anyone though. They are more for intimidating people into not doing anything stupid.
As I walk into the great hall I am in awe with the beauty of the architect. Even though this is my fourth year participating in the ceremony, I will never get used to this. Pillars perfectly line the whole room. The ceiling is a glass dome towering everyone inside. The floor a perfect polished marble, not a scratch or smudge in sight. Tables line the room in perfect straight lines. Flowers and name cards rest on them pulling in everyone to find their seat.
I always thought it looked like a throne room. Someplace a queen would rule. I look at Peter; his face too in awe from the sight. I nudge his elbow. He looks down coming back to consciousness.
"I found our seats." I direct his attention to a table in the corner with our names on it. We walk over shoving our way through the crowd. Hand in hand; making sure we don't lose each other. As we reach our table the lights dim and the room goes quite as people silently make their way to their assigned spots.
This so how I met Peter. This whole assigned seating thing. We are stuck sitting next to each other every year through these things. Finally during our second ceremony we decided to talk and became best friends. He is really my only friend, and if anything happened to him I don't think I would know what to do with myself. Whenever things are bad at home I go to him. He helps me get back on my feet, and that is something I will never be able to repay.
I come back to conciseness when clapping erupts the room. I look up at a platform in the middle of the room as a petite women makes her way across it. She is wearing three inch black heels and a fitted red dress. Her gold hair tied up onto her head in a perfectly circular bun. Making the rest of us look like we crawled out of a sewer.
She taps at the microphone making a booming sound over the non-visible speakers.
"Welcome everyone. So glad you could join us for another year of our annual choosing ceremony. I am Sarah Black, and I will be hosting the ceremony this year." She paused. Giving no expression as she scans over the large crowd.
"Most of you know why we do this every year, but some of you don't." She paused once more. Thinking of her next choice of words.
"25 years ago a virus broke out. People one by one were dying. But weren't staying dead for long. They would come back killing everything in site. Even the ones they loved." She looked down at her hands as if remembering something she stored away long ago. She looked back up with a fake smile and continued
"That's why you are all here today... You see, there are more infected than living. We are the only known survivors of this virus. We got you all out and safe in time, But that doesn't mean we are the only ones. So every year we take five brave souls from the ages of 15-30 and send them outside the wall to look for fellow survivors. Why don't we send out soldiers you may ask? Well, there are more of you then us... So with that said, why don't we begin." A big glass bowl suddenly emerges from the ground with white pieces of paper in it. She walks over with small strides and picks the first name.
"Samantha Miller." A young girl, maybe 16 with long red curly hair and freckled skin stands slowly from her seat. With her movement, everyone's attention is drawn towards her. She is clearly shaking as she looks around everyone's worried and sorrowful faces. 
"On to the next one" Sarah breathes into the microphone as she picks another name. I grab Peter's hand hoping for some comfort and close my eyes; not wanting to see the faces of those who are picked.
One by one people stand up from the calling of their names.
My hand still in Peter's and eyes still closed the last name is called.
"Freya Anderson." I didn't quite know what was happening until Peter's hushed "no" brought me back to reality. I opened my eyes and stood up silently. Peoples heads turning towards me. My hand is still in Peter's as I stand there. Shaking. I look up slowly at Sarah and she at me. She gives me a menacing grin and puts her mouth to the microphone.
"That is it ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for your time." Still looking at me she says " and remember.... We are the future." With that she walks off stage and My grip is forced out of Peter's as a soldier leads me out of the room.