Alias

Tarron

 Run run run run run run, I tell myself. I pant as I bolt away from the policemen chasing me. In one hand I have my trusty hunting knife; in my other I carry a sack money. I need it. I ran out of money I earned doing simple tasks for people. I live in a dumpster, for crying out loud. The Snow season is gone, so there’s no more shoveling to do. The Leaf season’s too far away for me to rake leaves. The soon coming rain of the Bloom season will just make it harder. That’s why I love the Scorch season. There’s all kinds of food that gets thrown out because it’s too hot for the Richies. All I have to do is sit and wait.

        The policemen are panting as they attempt to catch up to me, but I’m just too fast. They can’t stop long enough to throw their knives because I’m running too fast. I smile at the familiar adrenaline rush I get whenever chases like this happen. I pass a flashing billboard advertising a fancy resort in the Guam sector. As I stare at it, I trip over a pipe. I tumble forward, losing my great advantage over the policemen. I jump up and run forward, just to have a knife graze my ear. I shake it off and run. Run, Tarron, run, I think. I bolt down an alleyway and scale a fence. I make a few more twists and turns, and eventually lose them. There’ll be wanted signs all over the sector for sure, I think. There are ten sectors in all. Guam is the Richie sector, Caim is the industry sector, Slym is the farming sector, Myrn is the slum sector, Varr is the tourist sector, Dite is the main sector, Hrue is the mining sector, Bade is the hunting sector, Poel is the training sector, and Kane is the machinery sector, where I live. The sectors are set up in a circular pattern, all surrounding Dite. The richer the city, the closer it was to the center. Kane is the sixth farthest one. We aren’t Myrn-poor, but we aren’t Guam-rich. Just about everyone in Kane is an amateur inventor. I’m pretty handy myself. We all share the same basic look; black hair, blue eyes, and freckles. Most of us, boys and girls, have long hair and usually leave it down to their shoulders. Not me. I cut my hair at my chin so that it’s easier to hide. I stand out like a sore thumb here.

        Once I make it to my dumpster, I jump in. I shut the top firmly and set my money bag in the corner. The dumpster I live in appears to be rusted shut, so no one uses it. I made it my home. I have a little box of tokens and bills, a container for food, a small blanket, and my locket. My locket is all I have left of my mother, who died in a car accident. A woman named Stacey found me and took me in. seven years ago; she died of a heart attack. I had no other choice but to become independent. A nine year old like me wouldn’t have been thought of as much. After five years I got the hang of things. I was fast and smart, so I could steal thing easily. I was also extremely cute, so people took pity on me, even the Richies.

I love to daydream about the past, before the Falling. About what it would be like when there was more than just one nation, when the world was calm, when people could trust each other. The Falling happened when the president in 2085 started a war with all of our allies in an attempt to conquer the world. We defeated many countries, including unsuspecting China, in our reign. So much power came with a price. All of the power went to the president’s head. He enslaved us and forced us to fight. All of the gunshots and smoke ruined the natural balance, causing earthquakes and other natural disasters to pop up all over the world. Six of the seven continents just disappeared, along with their people. ‘North America’ is now called Autonomy. That means freedom. Ha, what an unfitting name for this place we dare call a country. Anyway, the half of the place ended up underwater, and the other half in ruins. We cleaned it up and made it our home. We live in a ‘Republic,’ but it’s more like a dictatorship. We can’t really do much except work. And, of course, die. That’s always an option. I actually am dead. I’ve been dead for fourteen years. I was a year old and was in the back seat of the car my mother was in when she died. Well, according to the government, anyway. As you can probably tell, I’m very much alive. I’m not living in a penthouse with, I don’t know, a view that goes on for miles? Boy, I wish. I actually live my life without kissing up to our ‘beloved president’ Walker Nance. I’m proud of it, too. I’ve used my speed and agility to my advantage on many occasions. Why, just at the bank I got through with nothing but my looks! All I did was ask a young guard politely if I could check on my account and bam! He was enamored. From there all I did was do a simple code crack on the safe and voila! I’m in. Stupid silent alarm got me, though. I never miss those things. Sloppy job.

        I look up at the flashing billboard. It now says in bright red letters,

BREAKING NEWS! CRIMINAL MASTERMIND TARRON STEALS FOUR THOUSAND DOLLARS FROM LOCAL BANK! INFORMATION ON HER LOCATION WILL BE REWARDED WITH TWO THOUSAND BILLS AND FOOD RATIONS FOR A MONTH. 10 FOR EACH MEMBER OF THE FAMILY.

Aww, they called me a mastermind! How sweet! The reward for my capture is quite a bit. I must be pretty important to be worth two thousand bills and food rations. No one gets those anymore, not without being a Richie. Boy, I hate them. They think they’re so much better than everyone else. They’re real jerks. One even kicked me in the stomach the other day and mumbled, “Low-life street scum.” It hurt pretty badly, but at least she didn’t recognize me. It’s not like I’m the most wanted criminal in the country or anything. Ha, dumb Richies. They’re all just airheads with money, you know. Not me. I’m a quick-thinking criminal who wins out with patience and strength, not money. Heck, I had to steal some just for food.  Ha, saying that will never get old.

        I pull out my locket and look at the picture of me and my mother together. She looks so happy, and I look so…like a baby.

        I eventually drift off to sleep.