34 Degrees (1-4)

34° Water

       A tear somersaults down my cheek and leaps onto the desk before I even have the chance to slide the drawer closed. I leave it to dry with countless others and make my way to my bed, at least that's what they call it. I've heard stories of "king" beds that are large enough to fit an entire family, with plush mattresses and feather filled pillows. I'm not sure if that's true or just another tall tale about the world "before", but it's nice to think about. Very often, as I wrestle with my own mind in the isolated quiet of the night, I lose myself in thoughts about the past, about the last few things I remember from my parents. I was only 11 when they died and even then, I would have given my life for them. In this world, they were a ray of hope and joy. I hope that one day I'll be able to live up to what they wanted me to be, but until then, my name will be a constant reminder.

Sitting on the bed, I am oddly comforted by the familiar sound of metal squeaking as the mattress bobs up and down. That sound has been the one constant in my life since I lost my parents. Crazy, I know, but sometimes, on the darkest of nights, that grating squeak makes me feel as if my parents are still here, crawling onto their own squeaking mattress after a long day of simply trying to survive and keeping me safe. Half aware, I reach to untie my boots and toss them aside before resting my head on the asperous pillow that was assigned to me.

As I drift off to sleep, I hope to dream of positive things- dreams of a future for the world - but with life today, what else is there to dream of than what lies above, on The Surface, ready to kill? Or diseases that could leak in during the night and wipe out an endless amount of us?

Morning rolls around almost too fast as I am jolted awake by a strange sense of alarm. I've adjusted to running on minimal sleep and can spring awake at the slightest noise. I rub the sleep from my eyes and stretch. The time is 4:52. Early, even for me. The sound of hurried footsteps scurrying outside of my door, coupled with the menacing red light seeping under the crack is more than my somnolent brain can understand. It seems more like a bad dream. Am I stuck in a nightmare? No, no, I am awake. This is real. Something has happened.

No piercing alarm rings through the hall, which is suspiciously strange. Grabbing my boots, I pull them on and lace them up within seconds, a skill that you learn very quickly around here. When you are told to jump, you jump now..boots or no boots. Bursting through the door, I find myself instantly bounced among a stampede of people running in a panic to the central hub of Ceren.

I try to look behind me, in the direction that everyone is coming from, but the red lights emanating from the bulbs on the ceiling are blinding. From what I can make out, the masses aren't running from anything, rather they are trying to get somewhere - and fast.

Opening my mouth, I prepare to speak to an oncoming man who instead barrels into my shoulder and never slows down. I fall to the ground, watching as he sprints away, never looking back. My words, now muted, still hang on the tip of my tongue. All that I can feel is the searing pain of cold concrete against my head before my vision quickly blurs. I can't see or think and the constant buzzing of panic and fear spins around in my head until suddenly, the alarms start to sound, bringing me back to reality. Why didn't they go off before? The alarm usually sounded when there was a problem, such as contamination, an intruder, or a disturbance among the population. The community is strict, but it keeps the members alive.

I pressed my hands against the floor and opened my eyes. Pushing myself to my feet, I hold my forehead as blood trickles down my fingers, forming a puddle of crimson at my feet. I can't see more than a few feet ahead of me; my ears ring as the sirens blare through the hallways. The flocking crowds dissipated as quickly as they appeared. There is nothing left but the red lights enveloping everything in the hall. For a brief second, all is disturbingly still. I am alone.