Worlds Apart

Chapter 2

The land was barren, so unlike the city I knew. Instead of the lush trees, tall buildings, and friendly people I had expected, the only thing that met my eyes was a long stretch of nothingness. The ground was black as if it had been burnt by a great fire, with no inhabitants. Nothing living grew or walked - the only thing besides the blackened ground being a small pile of rotting wood.

I glanced down on the side of the wall, gritting my teeth at the pain of movement, where soldiers paced the length of the wall. Why aren't they shooting at me, like they did with Jake? I thought bitterly, but soon dismissed the thought. There was no point of delving into the many questions of our city.

I had to think of what to do. Now that I had seen beyond the walls, my spirit to explore it had been dampened. There didn't seem to be any form of life down there whatsoever, and if I wasn't careful I could die from infection or blood loss. But still, if I went back down the

ladder, the soldiers would capture me. They'd be likely to either execute me or arrest me and let me rot behind the confining bars of jail. I didn't think I could live like that.

So with these things set in my mind, I searched the wall with my odd, light green-blue eyes for any way down. To the left, all I could see was the endless stone of the wall, but to the right I caught sight of what may have used to be a ladder. It looked severely damaged and rusting now, and the bottom was missing many of its rungs. It would be a far drop.

I got to my feet, tears threatening to spill from the pain of my shoulder. One look down, though, sent me to my knees. When I looked down once more, the height was dizzying. So I crawled. The soldiers followed me with their guns, but didn't make any moves to shoot. I ignored theme, questions swirling in my mind. Why weren't they shooting? What was the point of a wall, if all there was beyond it was a stretch of blackened land? Why had it mattered that Jake had seen this? What was the point to all this madness? The secrets?

I couldn't stand it anymore. I was going to go insane - I needed Jake. I needed him alive, and I needed him to help me. But he wasn't here, so instead; I have to get out of this place. I thought about my mother. What would she think? She won't notice. I told myself. She wouldn't notice. My brothers death had left her in a horrid state. She had ceased to take care of herself: eyes blank, blonde hair matted and un-brushed. She hadn't taken a shower for who knows how long, and she hadn't been eating or talking either. Every night, while I was sleeping, I could hear her sobbing. The only one she ever spoke to was my father, whom only came to our house once every month. Her grief hadn't left any room for me left - no, she wouldn't notice.

By the time I reached the ladder, my shoulder was aching and throbbing. Each time my blood pumped through my arm, I felt like I was being stabbed. The wound was crusted along the edge with dried blood, but new, fresh blood kept oozing out, down my arm. I looked away, unable to bear the sight for the longer I looked, the more it seemed to hurt.

I swung myself down to the first ladder. A scream erupted from my throat as my wounded arm grabbed hold of the rusted bar, supporting my body weight. My hand was slick with blood-which was now flecked with rust-and I grabbed hold of the bar with my other hand before it could slip. And so I made my way down like that, slipping and holding. At the bottom I jumped, a spray of black dust erupting around me, causing me to cough. I cradled my arm across my chest-which, as of now, felt as if it had been cut off-and searched the blackened land that I was to stay.

The soldiers burst through the doors of the Compound where the Headquarters stood. Mark looked up-and despite the rude and surprising burst, his face was passive and calm, showing no emotion of surprise. The leader of the group stepped forward, back stiff and straight, hands folded behind his back. His hair, despite his attempts at keeping it perfectly combed, was tousled and messy. Though his dark colored suit was already perfectly smooth, he ran his hands down the length of his thighs and torso, as seemed a habit of his. His badge shone on his left chest.

The soldier was tall and muscular, but he did not intimidate Mark, whom was sitting. The older man rested his elbows on his desk, leaning towards the soldier. "What's your report, Mr. Wyrr?" He asked, his voice assertive.

The soldier squared his shoulders. "She got away, sir!" He announced, loud and clear. Mark passed a hand across his forehead, grazing hair sliding across it. "And why didn't you bring her down?" He asked, exasperated.

"I'm sorry, sir, but the ladder she climbed was too weak to hold our soldiers. We couldn't risk shooting her any more then hitting her shoulder. She climbed down the other side, sir!" He avoided Mark's gaze, but kept his posture perfect. The aging man sighed.

"Why didn't you retrieve her?" Mark asked. "We thought we should report to you, first, sir!" Mr. Wyrr declared. Why are my soldiers such idiots? "Bring her back. Don't hurt her, I want her safe. And bring her to me so we can chat." He ordered. I swear, if they hurt her- "And what about Mrs. Amii?" The soldiers words interrupted Mark's thoughts. "I'd like to speak with her."