We were almost there. A block, at most. I could see the black oval building, and my heart filled with dread. Something told me that nothing, absolutely nothing could save everyone. Or even half.
Finally we arrived, and one of the soldiers commanded me to sit. He took his knife and slashed it across my face one last time. Blood ran down my face, streamed onto my arms and legs. The pain was unbearable, and black spots swam before my eyes. I had to fight the urge to fall, I had to fight the urge to sleep.
The doors opened to reveal a ginormous room, packed with maybe three thousand people. In the front, a glass dome held the President and his wife, but he wasn't really President now, more like King. The rest of his family was sitting in chairs below them, and the King and Queen stared mournfully at them. That's when it hit me.
They weren't going to die.
No one was really paying them any attention except to mutter curses. A few people, who I recognized as former rebels, flung themselves at the glass. I think that most people thought that there were holes in the back to let gas through. That the dome was for protection.
I knew better. The monarchy was afraid. This whole stage was for one thing only, benefited only two people. Them. They would reproduce. They would make humanity strong again. And no one would know. No one would be able to do a thing about their treachery.
I screamed, a sound lost in the masses. Someone had to break that glass. Someone had to kill them somehow.
"Kill them!" I yelled at the nearest man. "The dome is sealed and gas-proof. Break it!!" He nodded. I spread the message. Eventually, people started chucking things at them. Purses. Glasses. Even a knife.
I don't know how they managed to smuggle that in.
The glass didn't break. The dome held strong.
By now, almost everyone knew about the President's treachery. Everyone was starting to get uneasy.
"Good evening!" The President said. He must have had a microphone hooked up, because his voice could be heard everywhere. "I gathered us here to end our misery. All of these years of suffering. All of the complaints. All these years of trying. Trying to make things work. We have all decided to end it. Smother out the doubts and unhappiness but dying. We all die.
"Even though we have given up, there is still hope. Maybe someday an orangutan will learn to tame fire, and the human race will restart. And they will do better. Our time is over. We have fifteen minutes before the gas comes. Fifteen minutes to prepare for death."
Caught up in fear, I forgot about the memory book. I opened it, very carefully turning page by page. There were hundreds of pictures, each that made me cry, but nothing on how to live. More pages. No information. There were pictures of me with my father, playing football. Pictures of me with my sister wrestling. Pictures of me with my mother, cradling me. Me, me, me. Me playing chess. Me drawing. Me crying. Me, me, me.
There wasn't anything in the book. Nothing but painful memories.
I shook it and screamed at it, clawing at the spine, the cover, anything to save me.
Nothing happened.
Desperation overcame me and I flung it to the floor. Utter amazement took me when something peeked out of the cover. I scrambled to pick it up, and opened the gap wider. Inside was six gas masks, the old kind they used to use in WWll. The kind that could fold up and become thin as paper.
I kissed an image of my father, and unfolded them. I had to get them out to the right people, and fast.
YOU ARE READING
Our Extinction
AçãoI've always been what you call the more "prepared" person. But what the President decides to do, no one could have prepared for. I've lived this long, I've struggled, I've survived. Until now. Only, this isn't just me dying. It's all of us. It'...
