The Zero Birth Policy

CHAPTER TWO: Cory

A girl twice my size swings her arm out, nearly whacking the back of my head as she pushes her way to the front of the pack. I duck, step behind her. We surge forward as one chaotic cluster, every pair of eyes glued to the glowing green drone just twenty feet ahead—all except mine. I jump, trying to spot Lizzy's head of long yellow hair but it's hard to make out anything in the blur of masked faces. Legs tangle, elbows collide, chins and knees scrape against the pavement. I try my best to avoid stepping on the fallen bodies as I work my way toward the middle, toward Lizzy.

A small group of kids on motorcycles breaks away to lead the charge. The cyclists are next, and then there's the rest of us, fighting our way forward on foot, praying we make it out of the square before reversing.

The last two weeks disintegrate into nothingness, the man in the suit no longer a concern. Fear turns into adrenaline and a single-minded determination takes hold of every muscle in my body. Lizzy is all that matters.

Her face is broadcast over three of the buildings in the square and each building shows a different angle. I lift my head and spot a large clump of drones about fifteen feet ahead. That's where Lizzy must be. Drones love exposed faces and if they can find her, then so can I. I'll never catch up to her though if I don't find a way to get off my feet soon.

Most Illegal racers have no choice but to run, but the runners never win. Dennis Franklin is the only exception. In 2083 there wasn't a single drop of rain for eleven months and twenty-two days. Then, just a couple hours before the race, the clouds rolled in and cracked open over the city, drenching the the parched pavement in rain. The roads were so slick with oil that all the bikes crashed trying to get out of the square and Dennis won, becoming the first, and only, runner to ever win. Unfortunately, he became so famous after the race that the Legalizers had no problem hunting him down and killing him.

There are a few different ways for an Illegal racer to get their hands on a bike or motorcycle. The best option is to have a spectator offer up their bike to you. I've never been so fortunate. Some Illegals show up with their own bikes and nine out of ten times it's a member of the Resistance—an underground group of Illegals who actively fight the Zero Birth Policy. Only a few of the bikes are actually any good, but I can't help feeling a twinge of jealousy whenever I see them roll up to the starting line. One of them almost always wins the race.

The last option is my least favorite—stealing from an unwilling spectator. During my first race, I grabbed a girl's bicycle. She screamed and cried and even ran after me before her parents scooped her up. Fletcher and I hadn't eaten anything in six days, and I was ready to do just about anything to get my hands on a scrap of food. The father yelled at me, told me to bring it back, but I just peddled faster.

A shot rings out, splitting through the roar of the crowd.

I duck and try to stay as close to the ground as possible while still running forward. My teeth grind. My head spins. I'm surprised it took this long for the first shot to be fired. I need to get out of here—fast. Not all the Legals are here for the entertainment. Some take it upon themselves to fill in for the Legalizers on their day off. Two more shots crack through the air and the boy next to me falls to the ground. I tell myself not to look. I look anyway. His head smacks against the top of my boot and a small ring of blood seeps through the yellow bandana tied over the lower half of his face. Crap. I squeeze my eyes shut, hold my breath, and slip my foot out from under the boy's head. Force myself to keep moving. He won't reverse. No one reverses after a shot to the head.

Out of the corner of my eye I spot a couple of racers climbing over Lizzy's pixelated face, up to the roof of the City Market. The green drone continues straight through the square, down Main Street, towards the city's skyscrapers, but the boys scaling the market building will have to veer off course a bit if they want to travel by rooftop.