MACHINE

1. Lambs for Slaughter

Everything seemed somewhat normal that day, as normal as anything could seem after a recent Cull. We did what we always did. Woke up, and prepared for a day of work. Every day became the same after a while, but it didn't matter to us. Nothing much seemed to matter anymore. It felt like the world had died a long time ago, and it was only a matter of time before we caught up.

There was no sign of what was to come as we rode swiftly on an elevator up fifty levels to our floor, until the doors slid open with a silent whoosh, and we were greeted by dozens of them. Government guards, wearing black head to toe, their identities concealed by helmets with reflective visors.

Deathmongers. My mind was suddenly plagued by an overwhelming cloud of memories. I was brought back to the memory of a Cull of years ago, the year 8840. I saw them drag people out of their homes, grab people by the arms and shove them onto the streets. I saw them pack people into huge black vans driving off to who-knows-where. I saw Cassie. I saw them grab her and take her away and I heard myself screaming her name, begging them not to kill my daughter. Begging them to take anyone but her.

Was this another Cull? Was the last one not enough? The thought of a second Cull plagued my mind as I looked around frantically, trying to think of a way out. Jump out the window? Surely we'd die. Back through the elevator? Too slow. Stairs? Not down fifty floors. But then something struck me. This wasn't a Cull, it couldn't be. First of all, the last Cull was too recent, it would be at least another year until the next one. Secondly, they would've issued a lockdown, we would have been stuck in our homes. They would've taken us from there, supposedly randomly. This scene was very different.

Our cubicles had been done away with, and the Deathmongers had people lining up as they checked their ID's, and had them walk through scanners. From there, the line would fork in two. It was almost as if they were sorting through people for a specific purpose. I glanced out the window at other nearby office buildings, wondering if this was happening everywhere, but the glint of the rising sun against walls of glass revealed nothing to me, and only reflected the outline of our building back at us.

"Jeremy?" I heard a voice say next to me, plunging me back into reality. It was Lucas, I could see the utter fear in his eyes as he looked at me for reassurance. I squeezed his hand in my own and smiled down at him.

"It'll be OK." I murmured. I didn't know if it was a lie or not. I supposed that depended on which line we ended up being sorted into. "If we cooperate, we survive long enough to figure out a plan. If we have a plan, we have a chance of escaping whatever this is." I whispered to him.

He nodded. "You're right." I could see him eyeing the large guns wielded by the Deathmongers, and the sinister-looking batons that hung from their hips. If we tried to run, as I had so foolishly imagined nearly moments ago, they would shoot us down in seconds.

"Get in line." Grumbled one of the Deathmongers, gesturing with their oversized gun. Even their voices were disguised, changed by some device in their helmets. It was impossible to tell the slightest thing about them, they all looked and sounded identical. What terrified me about this was that Deathmongers could be anyone. They could be a neighbor of mine, or a friend. It was just another reminder that you couldn't trust anyone in Tera. Except for Lucas, I reminded myself.

Lucas and I complied and got in line like the black-clad guard had told us to. The room was silent except for the gruff voices of Deathmongers muttering commands. All of the regular people in the room were frozen by fear, their faces blank. It seemed at the sight of the Deathmongers, we all came to terms with the fact that we would all likely be dead soon.

After waiting in line in silence for a couple minutes, staring down at the beige carpeted floor and watching the movements of the Deathmongers out of the corner of my eye, I looked up to see we had reached the two Deathmongers that were sorting people into seperate lines. I glanced past them to see that the Deathmongers were guiding people out of the building. I craned my neck to try to catch a glimpse through the window of the parking lot below, and where they might be taking them, as Lucas was interrogated by the Deathmonger first.

"ID." They commanded. Lucas complied, and fumbled for his wallet. He found it at the bottom of his bag and pulled out an ID card to reveal to the Deathmonger. They took it, scanned it, and returned it to Lucas. "Step through the scanner." They said authoritatively. Lucas stepped through, taking small nervous steps, his hands gripping the strap of his bag as though his life depended on it. If only his bag could get us out of here. I thought grimly.

Lucas was sorted into the line to the left.

I gave my ID to the Deathmonger, and stepped through the scanner. I was sorted into the line on the right. Me and Lucas were still close enough that I could hold his hand gingerly, but as the separation between the lines grew our fingers slipped apart.

Suddenly there was a commotion. I heard heavy footsteps of someone running, then swiftly afterwards a gunshot echoed throughout the room. Blood splattered on the off-white walls, screams spreading throughout the crowd. I saw the victim, he had been in the line I was in, now laying on the carpet and twitching like a half-dead insect. I heard Deathmongers yelling at people to shut up, and threatening them with their guns. It looked like he had tried to run. I was shocked, of course, but not as much as Lucas. I looked up to where he was, his brown eyes large and fearful. I knew him well enough to know what that look meant.

"No!" I yelled, but he ran anyway. He was fast, darting towards the stairs, but not fast enough. Deathmongers tackled him, and his small body was smothered. They whipped out their batons and began to hit him repeatedly. I ran towards him and tried to pull them off him, to some success. I punched one hard enough to shatter their visor and reveal a single grey eye.

I struggled fiercely against those who came to detain me, but I was restrained by three more from behind, punching my weak spots and holding me down against the ground as I watched them break Lucas' gentle fingers just for kicks. For some reason they didn't shoot him like they shot the other man, and though they hurt him horribly they took good care not to kill him. I supposed he was valuable to them somehow, but in that moment all I could think of was how bloody and dead he looked, how much pain he must have been in, and I wondered what else they would do to him for the crime of being afraid. A second later I felt blunt force hitting my head, knocking my nose into the floor and cracking it. The beige carpet faded into black as I lost my consciousness.

Some time had passed, and there were moments when I was half-awake. I was still drowsy, and my head hurt, but sensed I was being transported somewhere. I could hear snippets of conversation, and numbly feel that my arms and legs were bound. I heard someone talking, but it felt like a dream, it was all so distant and surreal.

"Nothing important was affected, Oleander. We shot one of the rejects, that was all." Said the familiarly gravelly voice of a Deathmonger.

"Are you sure that's it?" Hissed a hostile voice. "Because security footage tells me otherwise."

"Right." Replied the Deathmonger. "It was one of the specimens you needed. We broke his body, all right, but we took care not to bash his brains in. That's the part you need, right?"

I could hear a low growl. "Next time, don't rip my specimens apart without consulting me first."

"Yes, sir." Said the Deathmonger sheepishly.

"What about the man that dove after him? The big one?" I guessed that this 'Oleander' person was referring to me.

"What about him?" Asked the Deathmonger. "He wasn't one of the ones you requested. We were going to bring him to the dreg-cells."

"Bring him in." Said Oleander. "His determination intrigues me. I want to see how his mind would react to the transference process."

I could hear some protests from the Deathmonger, but Oleander insisted aggressively, threatened the Deathmonger, and reminded them that he was their superior. The rest of their conversation faded into muffled, barely-there voices as I fell back into the numbing embrace of unconsciousness.