Fragments

Then

I make my way down the flat block. I don't pass anyone on the way, but I keep my head down, knowing that there are cameras hanging from every shadowed eave and corner.

I finally reach the stairs and start my quick descent. Light filters through crudely cut squares in the walls, illuminating broken bits of beer bottles and flattened cigarette butts on the floor. The smell of smoke and urine wafts up to my nose and I can't help but cover my face with the sleeve of my hoodie.

When I finally burst out of the stairwell and into the crowded alley below, I take a deep breath and walk on. The night hawkers are starting to set up shop. They line both sides, their carts stationed next to the smog-blackened walls of the alley. The smell of fires lit in oil barrels and grilled, greasy food interlace with the acrid vehicle smoke from the main road just a few metres away. People are starting to flood the alley; this alley leads to more flat blocks, and working adults and schoolchildren are coming home after a long day. I, however, am heading out, as far as I can from this stifling place.

I step into the crowd and start to fight my way through. Shoulders and elbows press on me on all sides. Feet kick out from beneath me. I imagine thousands upon thousands of people pulsing around me, and somehow I feel like the world is nothing but a prison with no walls - and that I am already trapped in it.

I'm careful to keep a tight grip on my backpack; I don't want it to be carried away or pickpocketed by the thieves that frequent the streets of City Sector. When I finally reach the main road I rest on a brick wall and take a deep breath, trying to figure out where I'd go next.

I look up. The sky is coloured in sickly shades of purple and yellow. Clouds bruise the horizon. It's going to rain soon, and I'll have to find shelter, or get on a train that goes non-stop through the night.

I take a look at my watch. Almost six - in twenty-two hours they'd come looking for my mother and find out she's dead. It might take them a few more hours to determine who did it - it's obvious, I've left evidence in my haste to get away. And when they find out I'm gone, they'll issue some sort of manhunt, all for me.

All my life, I've never been noticed. In a day or two, they're going to issue a goddamnned manhunt - all for me.

I let out a strangled laugh.

Hysteria bubbles up my throat, wanting to froth out of my mouth. Red blurs my vision. I close my hands into fists and stop breathing, afraid I might scream.

My fingernails grip deep into my flesh, cutting crimson marks into my skin. The pain eats away the madness, bit by bit, pushing the screams back until the sense of something sharp in my flesh takes its place.

I begin to breathe.

"Okay, okay," I murmur. "What to do?"

The train station.

Yes. It's there that I'll find food, shelter, and transportation to the nearest Safe Zone Border. That means I have to go hard and fast through the night on a train, past checkpoints and sectors. I count the number of sectors I'll have to go through in my head.

The one I'm in: City. The next: Faraday Residential, Denarii Commercial, Borneo Industrial, Quarry, Agri, Agri 2, and then, finally, the Penrissen Highlands. After that, the border and freedom.

My pulse quickens. Freedom.

I start walking - there's no time to lose. I need to get to the train station before it starts to rain.

***

It's raining.

I hurry towards the glass dome of the train station like hundreds of other people looking to escape the rain. Warm, sticky drops of polluted water fall from the clouds and plop unto sweat-soaked clothes and heated skin. Thunder cracks like a whip as jagged, blazing white lines of lightning cut across the sky. Soon, it begins to pour. The rain is no longer in drops, but in sheets of water.

By the time I get to the glass dome, I'm soaked through. The train station is air conditioned, damn it, so the rainwater cools, and I'm left with wet blankets for clothes.

I rush towards the toilet and shrug off my hoodie. I twist it, hoping it'll dry in time for the night. My top is wet, but I leave it on, since it's not that bad. My pants are just damp for the most part. I can deal with my socks and shoes, knowing they'd get warm after a few minutes of frantic running.

I look into the mirror.

My face is sharp and angular, cut like an unfinished sculpture.  Two blue eyes, large, tired, and the colour of watered down ink, stare out. My cheeks are dusted with soot and seem to be sucked in, leaving an indent on each side of my face. Too thin, I decide.

I lift a finger and trace the wreath of bruises and cuts around my neck and wince. I'll need to fix this, but I don't know how. Maybe later, when I'm safer. On the train, perhaps.

"Ouch."

My heart jumps. I whip my head to my side and see a girl washing her hands. She looks at me through the mirror and whistles at my injuries. The water still runs, even though her hands stay still beneath the tap.

A normal girl, even with her pink streaked hair, lip piercing, and tight red tartan skirt and leather jacket. I begin to breathe again.

"Where'd you get that?"

I don't answer her question. Instead, I point at the sink and say, "The water's running."

"I see that." She sniffs, and I wipe my hands dry on my pants. I don't bother using a paper towel. Instead, I head out of the bathroom.

"I was just asking!" the girl yells, miffed off that I had ignored her. "Jeez."

But that's the thing - Just asking could get me killed.

I let the door slam behind me.

When I make my way to the main platform of the train station I line up to buy a ticket.

The line wasn't long. I was face-to-face to the ticket seller in a few minutes. She looks up - Maryann, her nametag read. The woman has a pinched face, as though she had spent her entire life squinting.

"You're going where, girlie?" She's chewing gum. With every word there's a smack of her tongue and teeth in between. Flashes of pink show through the gaps where her two front teeth should be. "Faraday?"

I shake my head. "Penrissen Highlands."

Her eyebrows rise."That's a long way off, girlie. Best be going with your family. You got a parent?" She leans forward and peers into the line. "Well. A boyfie, then?"

I blush furiously. But it makes sense; it's the perfect cover. Kids heading straight to or from Penrisssen Highlands usually ran away from something - parents, responsibilities, destinies.

And more often than not, they brought a partner. So I nod, answering Maryann the nosy ticket seller. "He's... he's at the back somewhere."

"Next one out is half-and hour away. You want that ride, or you'd like to wait for another?"

"Next one out."

She shrugs, pushes a button, and waits as an outdated printer spat out a sheet of paper. "Here." The ticket-seller shoves the ticket through the window and holds her hand out, palms-up."That'll be a hundred units."

I fish out the money from my backpack. "Thank you."

She snatches the money away, and I, in turn, take the ticket off the counter.

It's time to make my escape.