Short Stories

From the Outside

3050

    The human race has fallen into an age of desperation. Following the devastation of World War III and the resurgence of Bubonic Plague, few humans remain. Out of nearly 7 billion people, only 1 million remain. For protection, the governments of every nation deported their people to America, where a new safe house had been built for the survivors. A large glass dome was built, housing ever last person in the world. In 3000, humans moved to the Dome. Over the last 50 years, the world has deteriorated into a barren wasteland. The aftershocks of bombs are affecting the environment. Crops cannot grow, animals are becoming feral and deformed, and humans are dying.

    I stood outside my tent and peered down the alleyway. No one was there. With a sigh of relief, I took off towards the edge of the dome. I lived in the Colorado district of the dome, and was closest to the outside world. My mother often told me stories about when she had seen the mountains. She said they were once green and foggy, with white tips. Now they are nothing more than lumps in the desert. I had not been alive at the time of deportation. I had been born here, in America. My family, however, was from England. They spoke of my older brother very rarely. He had perished from a bomb during a Russian air raid. I often thought of Will. I wondered what he was like and if he was happy in Heaven. I assumed that's where he had gone, as my parents made him sound like a saint.

    "What are you doing here, girl?" A tall man with a sharp chin barked at me. "This is a restricted area!"

    "Oh, I'm terribly sorry. There's never been soldiers here before," I stammered.

    "Well, there's ever been any need for soldiers before. Now do me a favor and go back home." His gray eyes glinted wearily.

    I looked closer at him. He can't be much older than 20. I'm 18 and he doesn't look much older than me, I realized. His mop of shaggy black hair was hidden under a round helmet. He wore the issued uniform of a soldier.

    "Please just go. You'll get into a lot of trouble just by being here!"

    I nodded slowly, before turning and running back toward my tent. "Mama! Mama!" I shouted as I entered.

    "Gracious, child. What's gotten into you? You don't need to go running about screaming like a banshee," My mother scolded in her heavily accented voice.

    "I'm sorry. It's just that, well I went to the Dome again."

    "Did you now? You know how I feel about that Emeline."

    "I know but, Mother! There are soldiers there now!"

    "What? Soldiers at the Dome? Why are they there?" She thought for a moment. "You can't go back there by yourself any more, you hear? I don't want anything to happen to you."

    I thought of the soldier who had stopped me. He hadn't seemed like he wished to hurt me, but the outside never really portrayed what went on in the mind. I nodded. "I won't go back.

    "Good. Did you find out why they are there?"

    "No. One of the younger soldiers stopped me and told me to leave. I asked him why there hadn't been soldiers before and he said there wasn't any need of them till now. He made me leave before I could ask anything more."

    "Well, I'll ask your father. It's likely nothing more than some new gang terrorizing people. Now go get your chores done, please."

    "Yes, Mother." I ran off to do my chores, which consisted of making the beds, sweeping the small dirt floor clean of leaves, and washing the few dishes we had. Mama left the tent for a short while to retrieve our rations and pail of water from the head of our district. I completed my chores and waited anxiously for Papa to come home.