Fadeout

Chapter 2: Silas

Two thoughts rammed themselves against his skull. The first was that escape was impossible. Wouldn’t everyone have tried it, or suggested to try it, if it wasn’t? No one that Silas had ever known or heard of since being moved into the Cartiam had even attempted to escape. He’d never heard someone say, “let’s break out tonight,” over their dinner of stewed beans. Silas wasn’t even sure he knew where to start to accomplish a feat that big and risky. The implant in their necks would be a problem. It would have to be removed completely and Silas wasn’t sure if that could be done safely.

His hand reached up and scratched at the small lump at the base of his head. He could feel something under the skin move when his fingernail pressed at just the right spot. It was near his spine and he knew enough about anatomy that the spine was necessary for movement. If he cut into his neck wrong, things could go from difficult to impossible.

Then there was the locked cell and the walls and the guards. All of which Silas didn’t know how to get out of or avoid. And that led to another issue. Assuming they could get through all those things, what would they do next? Where would they go? How would they blend in? Carillians were never a part of society. They were born on farms and then transferred to places like the Cartiam until those in charge knew what they wanted to do with them.

Silas had read some of Patton’s books that described society, but who knows how old those books were or if they were only made for Carillians to read. He’d read of towns, markets, malls and houses. But he’d never seen them. He imagined that they looked similar to the family residences on the farm he grew up in, small two room sections attached to others just like it on both sides. And towns were bigger places with more rows where people dwelt. Markets and malls were happier places to go if you needed something. Instead of walking from house to house every Friday where people would hang what they made from their door or display it on their table. It would be every day and there would be color. Instead of the brown Carillians had to wear there might be blues or greens like the guard’s uniforms or yellows like the dandelion he found and gave to his mom when he was five.

Silas slowed his breathing and checked the positions of the guards. They continued their normal rounds. He knew how to act in the yard, but what if no one acted like this out there? What if he gave himself away just be being himself? It was a lot to consider.

The second thought that hit Silas was that Malina’s eyes shone. She stood straighter and there was energy in her voice and in her small movements, like the way she tucked her hair behind her ear. What is more, Silas realized it had been months, maybe years, since she had seemed this alive. Living in the Cartiam had a way of weighing on you. The daily schedule, the hidden fears, and the struggle to stay away from others all played a part in destroying any happiness you might have. It took Silas a second to grasp that Malina was letting herself hope, and another second to realize how quickly her smile would vanish if that hope died.

“Our implants.” It was the first concern Silas knew had to be solved. If they couldn’t remove their implants, alarms would sound and they would be easily tracked and recaptured. There was also the restraining element that prevented individuals from getting out of hand. In Silas’ first year he saw three boys the size of Tymas attack a guard, but within 30 seconds all three were screaming in agony on the floor.

“I’ll ask around, but I’ve heard there are ways to disable them or even remove them.”

“How would we get out?” Silas asked.

“We need to record the guards’ schedules, especially at night and see if we can find any weaknesses and then we make a plan.”

“What if we don’t find any weaknesses?” Silas could feel Malina glare at him.