Evergreen

VIII

As promised, routine checks were implemented regularly. But I no longer saw it as the men in white, saving lives, rather than them destroying lives.

One night to forever stain my mind. A constant reminder of the brutality so often hidden by those in white, enslaving the people in a cage of their own fears.

The sirens rung persistently in my ears, but what was worse was the overpowering sound of my heartbeat. A consistent drumming beat like a war drum. I felt sick, then again, I did during each of these checks. We lined up downstairs; one beside the other. Each with our left wrist upturned and bearing, waiting to be scanned by the men in white.

First my mother, even the sirens appeared to be silent as we waited for the scanner to read her wrist. I let out a sigh of relief as one long beep left the machine against her skin. We all exchanged glances as the man in white moved along to my father.

It's the same order each time. My mother, my father and then me. Oldest to youngest. Ben moved out with his pair three years ago otherwise he would have been before me. The long beep from the machine meant he was all clear.

And finally, the man in white walked over to me. He grabbed my wrist with a force in which all I wanted to do was pull it away from him. The metal felt cold against the veins which were now surely rushing with blood, my head was spinning and my heart, pounder ever faster. I was scared that if it became any louder even the men in white would be able to hear it.

I counted the seconds. One. I looked at my mother and father, they both held the same blank expression. Two. My head pounded, a mixture of the horrific siren and my own heartbeat ricocheting through my mind. Three. I flicked my eyes around the room, from the white ceiling to the worn down woollen brown couch in the centre of the room under a large window. Four. I stared down at the scanner, they never take this long, is something wrong? Five. I watched as the curtains billowed out from the subtle breeze flowing through it but I felt hot and sticky, like the air was no longer air but a condensed heat suffocating me. Six.

At last the long singular beep protruded from the machine signalling that I was all clear. The men in white left without another word, shutting the door forcefully. I could feel myself relax immediately as their uncomfortable presence was no longer in attendance.

I looked out onto the street from my bedroom window, sat on the sill of my window I could now see the men in white entering the house opposing ours. They knocked on the door but with, I presume, no answer they took the house with force. No one was exempt from the searches. Screams pierced the air, stabbing the air and making it bleed, but I suppose it bled out much as the screams did. Silence fell.

Nothing could have ever prepared me to see what those bodies looked like as they were dragged from that house. Mangled and beaten into new, profound shapes.

The men in white were now men in red.

The bodies, barely breathing were dragged across the hard stone and thrown like waste into the white van. The door slammed shut and a large white X painted across the door.

Contaminated.