In a nightmare world ravaged by misery, the Imperium offers utopia to a select few. When Arya and Everett are recruited into this elite society, they choose to leave their homes against their families' wishes.
Naive and young, Arya and Everett are...
Everett and I follow the straight trail until we're met with a fork in the road, at which point he says, "What do we do?"
I scan the two paths in the hopes of spotting a signboard and when I find none, a stab of irritation causes me to grit my teeth. Frustration overcomes me with sudden, excessive force. I glance at Everett as he runs his hand through his short hair, his cheeks tinged crimson and his eyebrows furrowed — my exasperation mirrored on his face.
Fists clenching, I remind myself of the Foreman's words and force myself to inhale deeply. "It's okay, we'll find it. Just keep looking around."
Casting my eyes about, I finally notice the people walking around us in different directions. Most of them stare straight ahead vacantly but those that notice of us shoot looks of distaste and shock in our direction before hurrying along.
"Look at their suits," I whisper, nudging Everett's arm.
The small crowd is dressed in different shades of grey and blue, but it doesn't take long to notice that all the men and women wearing dark grey suits — the same shade as ours — seem to be heading left.
"Should we just follow them?" Everett muses, gesturing to the left with his chin.
Nodding, I walk alongside him as we turn left. Aside from the soft howl of the breeze that gently ruffles my hair, there is absolute silence and it feels awkward to break. So we walk quietly, trying desperately not to stand out among the crowd of perfect, stone-faced citizens.
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Much to my relief, following the grey-suited citizens turns out to be the right decision. After a long walk, an enormous archway made entirely of white blooms materializes at the end of the path. I can't hold back my amazement at the sight in front of me; I've only ever seen flowers in pictures when I studied in the Learning Centre back home.
Not home, not anymore. The reminder is accompanied by a sharp pain in my chest and brief glimpses of my father.
"Whoa," Everett mutters, dragging my attention to the present.
We stand back, watching from a few feet away as each citizen steps through the arch, turning momentarily to face what appears to be a screen nestled among the flowers before proceeding into the garden.
Finally, when Everett and I are the only ones left standing on this side of the entrance, I take a tentative step into the arch. I turn to face the screen which remains unresponsive until I set my foot into the garden. Suddenly, a horrific alarm starts to blare, seemingly emanating from everywhere at once.
My throat closes in panic as all the citizens turn to look at me accusingly, their hands raised to shield their ears. Eyes tearing up and chest heaving, I stumble back into the arch. Everett springs into motion, surging forward just in time to catch me.
"Wait, look," he says, sounding almost as anxious as I feel. "Our bands."
I watch — disoriented and light-headed from the foul boom of the siren — Everett's fingers winding around my arm and raising my hand to the screen. The moment my white band comes in contact with the screen, the alarm abruptly falls silent.
Everett quickly touches his band to the screen and guides me into the garden with his arm curled around my waist. He pulls away a few seconds later when my breathing and gait finally turn steady.
Angry pairs of eyes stare at us with undisguised revulsion as each person reaches into a tall glass case to our right, pulling out a pair of shears, gloves, and a clear canteen of water. Everett and I grab our things and follow the others further into the garden. The ground is covered in lush green grass, crunching softly under our feet as we enter a section of the garden filled with the most exotic looking flowers I have ever laid eyes on. The neat rows extend several feet ahead before stopping in front of a tall green fence.
Blue, purple, yellow, white, orange, red, pink . . . the rows of bright colors and intermingling scents are almost too much to take in at once. Blinking in wonderment, I turn my attention to the citizens as they take positions around the bushes and start shearing them, one leaf at a time.
Each citizen chooses one row of bushes for themselves, leaving only the last two for Everett and me. I count a total of fifty bushes as we take the long walk towards the last rows. Dropping my water canteen into the pocket in my suit, I stand at the edge of my row and watch the woman working in front of me. She trims the leaves with the utmost care, her eyes never straying from the blossoms.
"Are you okay?" Everett asks me, starting to work on his row of bushes, dotted with four-petalled yellow flowers.
"I don't know," I reply honestly, donning my gloves. "Are you?"
Before Everett can answer, the woman in front of me turns to look at me. The relaxed composure in her features is now replaced with annoyance as she says to the man in front of her, "There should be no room for them here."
The man nods fervently, causing Everett to press his lips in a thin line, leaving my question unanswered. We exchange a glance before silently turning to our work.
I stare at the flowers in front of me, a perfect arrangement of five soft pink petals nestled between deep green leaves.
It's going to be a long day, I think to myself with a heavy sigh, running my fingers along the top of the bush before grabbing my shears.
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