The Missing

"She's almost complete. Wow, she's so innocent and vulnerable looking." a voice said in awe.

"Yes, well it is very strong and powerful. Don't be fooled by its looks." Another voice chimed in sternly.

"I'm not. I helped make her might I remind you!" The first voice snapped. "She just looks so sweet and perfect."

"It's going to be such a step forward in the new and improved world."

"Wait, she's opening her eyes!"

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I finished my 'birthday sandwich, (which really only meant one extra slice of super processed meat. So fake it was pretty much plastic) and gazed across the table at my little sister. Grace was staring at her lunch in dismay. Her finger probed at the stale bread but she didn't pick it up. Poking at it some more, she sighed.

"What, what's wrong with it?" I asked sliding my plate to the side. I was worried the bread had gotten moldy already and I hadn't noticed.

"Nothing is wrong. I'm just tired of faux-logna everyday. I wish there was some other meat-based food that is actually legal to eat and found in stores." she complained. "I wish it was my birthday too."

"You just had yours a few weeks ago." I cracked a smile. She had just turned 12 and I had managed to find some cheese for her birthday.

Everyone in town called the fake meat bologna. But it wasn't even that because it hadn't existed for a long time. All it was is overly processed meat while the rich people get the more less processed meats and dairy products. It was called faux-logna because of the fake fake-meat.

"What do you want me to do?" I laughed. "Go shoot a cow?" This earned a small giggle from her.

This of course, was a joke. But not a very funny one. Cows, pigs, chickens, or any other type of animal or crop you can get something from weren't allowed to be harvested for ourselves. Everything had to go to the Handlers. If we didn't follow through with this, and kept even a tiny morsel to ourselves, they would somehow find out and immediatly be killed. My best friend's Mom had this misfortune. If we wanted any of these animal by products we had to purchase them from the grocery store for an outrageous amount that very few people could afford.

The Handlers were the second most important people in the country behind the President. They are the people who create the 'helping hands', humans who were basically lobotomized, that are placed in our towns to supposedly help us and assist in the law.

Yet all they do is cause trouble. They snoop around to be sure we are obeying all rules. Even stupid ones like being indoors after ten pm. They invade our homes and scour the places for any small thing that might be out of order and not to their standards.

Grace and the other kids call them robots but they aren't quite that. They are actual people with brains that have been tampered with and rewired. Senses are enhanced and they only want to fullfil their leader's orders. The only thing that stays the same is how they look. Even their voices change a little bit.

"Maddy? Maddddyyyyy?" I broke out of my thoughts and focused my attention on my sister who was waving a hand in my face.

I caught her hand. "What?"

"The doorbell is ringing." she said.

No sooner than she said it, the doorbell chimed followed by a harsh rapping. I jumped in my seat at the loud sound.

I got up from the small table and stood in the hallway as my mom talked to one of the Helpers who must have been knocking.

"Please school is beginning for my youngest daughter soon! Just give me a week." Mom was pleading.

I frowned. School was only five days away for Grace. Once you turn 16 you are done with school and are expected to help make money for the family until your parents arrange a marriage or you turn eighteen and get matched. Usually your parents arrange a spouse and you have a year or two to get to know them and then get married. Some girls don't ge that luxury though. Today was my 18th birthday so time was up.

My palms were sweating. I knew they would come for me. Why couldn't they give me one last day of freedom? They were probably here to take me away and force me into marriage and make me have children so they have more slaves to-

I realized the Helper was talking and quickly listened in again. "That is not possible, Mrs.Roberts. Mr.President requested you to be of service no later than 8 am of the 23rd of August. If you do not arrive the penalty will be death of the household. We will too, force you." the Helper recited monotone.

"Okay, I'll leave tonight." she said so quietly I could barely hear her. Wait what? The 23rd is two days away.

Mr.President, aka John Fisher did not just ask for anyone. And my family was certainly no one.

"Affirmitive." I heard the door click shut.

Mom ran a hand through her graying, curly hair.

"Why are you leaving tonight?" I demanded confused. Didn't they want me?

Mom jumped and turned around. "Oh Maddy. I didn't even know you were there. Uh, happy birthday I guess." I gave her one of the looks my dad used to call unnecessary.

"If they aren't here for me, then why would they come here and want you?"

She sighed. "My skills are apparently needed at the Mansion." Her whole body seemed to sag and I realized she looked very small and frail.

I laughed. "What skills? We're farmers! Or at least I am. No offense, Mom." It sounded rude but it was true. Before my dad was killed three years ago, he was the farmer and I was his helper. He taught me absolutely everything I know. From farming to combat to schoolwise education I knew it all. My mom hasn't done much in the way of helping make money. Ever since my dad died it seemed like she gave up. She would disappear all day and sometimes not show back up until late at night. Some days she wouldn't even come home. I was always ferried she was going to get caught out past curfew.

"Well then I guess it's a mix-up." she even sounded doubtful and by the glimmer in her eye I got the feeling that she knew what it was about.

"What is it? Quit being so vague! Just tell me and treat me like an adult. I'm not stupid.  If you're on their radar then you really fucked up." I whispered fiercly so Grace couldn't overhear. She was a very good snoop. Nothing got past her.

Mom shook her head and motioned upstairs. We climbed the steps to the room on the left (Mom's was on the right.) that Grace and I shared. I sat down on the old matress and watched Mom pace.

"There's been lots of talk of rebellion. Everyone knows there hasn't been democracy for ages now. We have no say in the government at all. We've been secretly making weapons. Bombs, guns, everything. But someone must be a snitch. We just want everyone to be able to protect and defend themselves. We need to be ready if the Maux and government get too out of control." A creak came from the door and Mom's eyes flew towards it but I waved it off.

"What's all this 'we' stuff? You're not part of this ridiculous group are you?" I asked wide eyed. There's no way my sad, frail mother was in on this.

Mom looked at me sorrowfully. "I was helping transport them. But somehow word got out. Mr.President wants me to show him everything we created and then I'll be sentenced to death.

I heard a semi-mufled sob come from outside in the hall by the stairs. This time I didn't brush it off and I bounded off the bed and flung open the door before Grace could escape. She had tears streaming down her cherub face and had a hand clamped over her mouth to keep from making a sound.

"Mom's gonna die!?" she cried. I swallowed hard and looked at Mom who looked so helpless and lost I didn't know what to do. I opened my mouth but nothing came out. I looked back and forth between the two of them feeling my heart breaking.

But finally my mothers voice spoke up. "I have to leave Gracie. The President needs me. If I don't you know what could happen. You guys will do just fine without me." she tried to smile but it turned into a frown and a few tears escaped down her face.

I closed my eyes as tightly shut as I could and prayed over and over that this was only a bad dream. But when I opened my eyes I just saw my sister and Mom crying and I felt my own tears run down to my chin and drip to the floor.