The Tragedy of Mark's Van

An Eventful Bus Ride (not)

"The names mentioned are those who have been Chosen. Celeste Nightwood. Amaris Blackwell. Timothy Waller. Richard Cunningham. Tyler Harrison. And Saphira Versil," President Winters said casually as if he were listing grocery items instead of the names of teenagers whose lives are changed for eternity. Ordinary teens who would be forced to go to Mordreath, the military district. Anyone could be Chosen, it doesn't matter which district one was from- Nidus, the slums; Aura, the business district; and Griffae, the middle class district, Saphira's home.

Saphira stayed in her seat, filled with regret. She clenched fistfuls of the green fabric of her dress. Her mother had been right, she was Chosen since her older sister, Avery, had been too. And she should have hugged her parents one last time. Saphira should have told them that she loved them. But now. It's too late. If only she could go back in time and fix it all.

A female soldier shook Saphira's shoulder gently and motioned for her to follow him. Hardening her mouth, she unclinged her fists and stood up, smoothing her emerald knee-length dress. Saphira gave the upper balconies where her parents were seated one last look before going down the dark hall with the soldier and the other Chosen ones. There were two other teens like her before and a couple others behind her; they were paired with a soldier to keep them company.

They entered a large garage with bus all ready to go. The room was filled with soldiers watching their every move. It was a spacious rectangle. There was bland concrete walls with dim fluorescent lights on three sides of the garage. The opening led to the road to Mordreath. Soldiers split into two lines with their backs against the walls, watching Saphira and the others make their way onto the only bus.

Saphira sighed. Being Chosen is supposed to be the greatest honor. The best thing in the world. However, being Chosen was the last thing Saphira wanted. She wanted freedom. She wanted to be with her family and friends. She wanted to be like her dad and become an engineer. Not taken away from them to Mordreath and separated from them for the rest of her life. Not forever to become a mindless worker for the government. For all she knew, she could be forced to become a soldier, assassin, spy, or hacker. To say that she agreed the Rebels would be an understatement. She supported them with every fiber of her being. They sought to overthrow the government and stop the Choosings. Their goal was to take down President Winters and make this country a democracy.

Before Saphira could meditate and complain forever in her mind, someone, another soldier, shoved her roughly towards the bus's door. Saphira stumbled and shot a glare at the young soldier. The brunet appeared to be about her age, seventeen. "Move it, Chosen," he said stiffly.

She resisted the urge to stick out her tongue or make a vulgar gesture. Instead, she obediently got on the bus with the other Chosens.

She took a window seat up in the front row of the bus and noted that some soldiers got on the bus while others stayed behind. Why would they do so? It wasn't like anyone could escape. Once everyone took a seat, the engine started and the bus started moving. It was going to be a long ride to Mordreath. Her district, Griffae was nowhere near it. A very long ride.

Staring outside, Saphira sighed and rested her elbow by the window. The scenery outside was beautiful. Since it was Autumn, the trees were a mixture of oranges, reds, yellows, and greens.

Saphira subconsciously brushed out any wrinkles in her emerald dress.There was no point in mourning. Mordreath is her home now. What could it be like there? Certainly not like Griffae. She knew it wouldn't be filled with houses and friendly families. No more afternoon tea with the neighbors. No more book clubs or midnight adventures.

Mordreath was probably a cold and dreary place with dead trees and black skyscrapers. There was no doubt it was filled with more soldiers, spies, agents, and snipers.

According to the Rebel's spy, Florence Spark, the place was extremely strict and organized. It was no place for lollygagging. But the people of Mordreath were loyal, honest, genuine, and caring. The Rebel spy claimed that they were the same as people from all the other districts. They were just a bit more loyal to the government and President Winters than the ordinary citizen.

Saphira snorted. She sincerely doubted it.