Dawn had barely shone through the trees when sirens blared from the town’s encircling wall. Morgan pretended to panic. She knew that’s what would be expected of everyone. While she ran and faked a scream, she kept her eyes on the action outside the large gate. She took note, too, of the guards stationed on the wall.
A rustle in the bushes 20 meters out. A man – or what would have been a man before the Water War – ran from the bushes toward the gate. Morgan could see wild eyes, blood smeared on his face like war paint, and a hefty tree branch held aloft as a club.
“Got it,” said one of the sentries. A burst-fire of three rounds from a rifle. The sound of a body colliding with the dirt.
“The same as three days ago,” thought Morgan. She was hiding behind a stack of pallets, still playing the part of an unassuming citizen. When the alarms stopped, she kept paying attention to the loudspeakers. There would be a meeting announced.
The town’s speakers that gave the alarm now presented a very calming voice. “Citizens, there was an incident outside the walls. It has been resolved. Please gather at the assembly hall at one PM today for a mandatory safety meeting.”
Hunched behind the pallets, Morgan looked out beyond the town’s gate. She was lost in thought. She had discovered more secrets than any other citizen, and she had an unending stream of questions. The gunshots sounded real enough, but was that man truly dead? Was that even a man? If this was all a charade, as she suspected, what was the point of it? And the most pressing question she had – what will her small, renegade group find when she leads them outside the wall after everyone is asleep?
Morgan let the questions remain and stood up to go. She had to get her work done before meeting with the latest recruit.
**
“Now. Enough with the chit-chat, dearie. Why did you really come have lunch with an old, lonely granny?” Alethea was known for being blunt and not having patience for dancing around the truth (and she knew there was a truth behind this lunch date). She said whatever she thought, and always with an edge of kindness. “Stop pussyfootin’ around and tell me how I can help,” she would say with a smile.
Morgan loved this about Alethea. In fact, compassion and truth were what made this woman such a good candidate to join Morgan’s underground group. There was going to be a special gathering that night – their first excursion outside the wall – and Morgan wanted Alethea to be there.
“Mrs. Alethea, I wanted –”
“Allie. Call me Allie. That’s what my husband called me.”
Morgan already knew to use the name “Allie.” It was the third lunch she had with Alethea that week. The third time having that exact conversation. Morgan remembered, but Alethea had the sedating drug in her system. Its effects fading, but still there.
“Allie,” Morgan continued. “I came here to ask you an important question that might change your life.”
Alethea let out a laugh. “A question to change my life? The Caretaker says questions only lead to trouble. Not that I agree with the man.”
Morgan ignored that, lowered her voice, and leaned in, as she had the previous time. “Allie, what’s in your head? I mean, how’s your thinking? How far back can you remember?”
“What’s this about? I may be old, but I have plenty of years in me. If you think I’ve got dementia, you can walk yourself right out of my house.” There it was – the fire everyone knew and loved. And clearly from a sharp mind.
“No, nothing like that. I’m asking … well, do you remember the lightning storm we had last week? Do you remember the tree that caught fire outside the walls?”
“Don’t be silly. That can’t be right. It’s been sunny since … Well, since …” Alethea shifted her gaze to the floor and concentrated, her subconscious waging war against the sedative.
Morgan was patient. She loved this moment. She loved the evolution of the face as the mind behind it shuddered to life and broke out of its prison like spring flowers bursting through concrete. Morgan had led many through this process. She was the first to shake loose her chains and saw no other path than to help others do the same.
Some months ago – she couldn’t be sure exactly how long ago – Morgan had avoided taking her daily dose of the sedative. It was a few days (could have been weeks) before she noticed a difference. She began to remember. First, she remembered events from two days prior – the color of the sunset, a joke someone said. Then she remembered a full week, then more. It was jarring, terrifying even. She had never known a day to be so different from the one before. Had she?
With no one able to remember one day to the next, all the citizens had to rely on the two truths spoken every day by the Caretaker during assemblies: Outside is death. Inside is life.
With more memory – more awareness – Morgan’s questions multiplied in complexity every day. She developed her own two truths: she couldn’t find answers by herself, and others deserved to be free. It was a long time before she was able to ween a neighbor off the sedative. With no memory of previous conversation, her neighbor needed daily reminders to skip his dose.
Now it was Alethea’s turn to wake up. Minutes passed as Alethea waded through her shock and confusion. She looked up. “Morgan? What are you trying to tell me?”
Morgan told her story. She talked about the inconsistencies that were spoken during each assembly. She talked about how some days a person walked outside the city gate, screamed terribly, and was never seen again. She talked about her doubts, her questions, and what few truths she had managed to piece together. She talked about her plans.
“Many of us are gathering tonight. We’re finally going to see what’s outside our wall, and we would love for you to be there.” Morgan checked the time. “But now, let’s go to the assembly meeting. I’ll sit with you.”
**
Morgan and Alethea walked through the large red doors of the assembly building. In the foyer, there were a few groups of people chatting. No sign of worry or fear from the incident that morning. The sedative was strong.
Morgan caught the eye of another woman, June, from one of the chatting groups across the room. June touched her temple with one finger – a sign – then passed it off as moving her hair behind her ear. She looked around to see that no security officers noticed and went back to her conversation. This interaction happened twice more as Morgan moved toward the entrance to the hall. A teenage boy. An elderly couple on a bench by the far wall.
There was no door leading to the assembly hall. It had been replaced by a walk-through RFID detector, which gave two calming chimes as Morgan and Alethea walked through. Morgan knew many, by name or face, of the roughly five hundred citizens, all finding seats and winding down their chats. A well-groomed man in a suit made his way to the podium on the stage.
“Good morning, brothers and sisters,” he spoke into the microphone with a slick smile.
Morgan did her best to not scoff or glare at the man. She forced herself to join the five hundred-strong chorus. “Good morning, Caretaker.”
“Right.” The Caretaker checked his meeting agenda. “There was another incident outside the wall this morning. I assure you it has been resolved and that you are completely safe inside the wall.
“Let me take this opportunity to remind everyone that the creatures outside the wall may look human but they certainly are not. Their brains have degenerated to a zombie-like state and scientists have determined that these creatures no longer share our DNA. They are devoid of any capacity for communication, intelligence, or empathy. As such, they are extremely dangerous and will kill without hesitation. That said, please stand and let’s recite our safety tenets together.”
Over five hundred souls obeyed without question and rose to their feet. Those who were physically unable were allowed to sit and instructed instead to raise their hands in the air.
“We pledge,” said the congregation in unison, “to keep safety in every action. We pledge to not go outside the wall, for outside we will die. We pledge to remain inside the wall, for inside we will live. We pledge for the safety and survival of humankind.” Morgan was careful to mouth the words so she would not be noticed by the officials keeping watch from the edges of the room, but she had stopped saying the pledges months ago. She could only pretend so much.
“Excellent. You may be seated,” said the Caretaker. He talked through the more mundane agenda topics – the scheduled rotation of working groups, a reminder to maintain the required ration portions, updates on the construction of a new apartment building (“our devotion to safety is working and our numbers are growing”).
“Before we get back to our day’s tasks, let’s remember our communion together,” the Caretaker said with a solemn and caring tone. If Morgan hadn’t known better, she would believe he was, in fact, a genuine caretaker.
The officials who had lined the room went to a back room and came out carrying large trays. Some were filled with bread baked as individual one-inch cubes, others were stacked with thimble-sized cups of water. The bread and water were passed around to each citizen, and everyone held the items until the right time.
Morgan had been sitting next to Alethea for the past five meetings, coaching her for three. The coaching sat stronger in Alethea’s subconscious with each repetition, despite the sedative’s – albeit waning – influence. Morgan was hopeful that Alethea would be completely free from its grip if she skipped this one last dose.
“Brothers and sisters,” started the Caretaker again. “Long before the Water War, there was a belief that those who ate and drank together, like we’re about to do, would have salvation. That they would be safe from all harm. That their DNA would shift and become identical. As one body.” No one knew, not even Morgan, how these words twisted history.
Morgan whispered to Alethea. “Remember what we talked about. Don’t eat or drink.” Alethea nodded as the Caretaker continued the ritual.
“We eat this bread today to symbolize our unity and commitment to the survival of all humans.” In unison, everyone ate the bite-sized bread. Everyone except a couple dozen, who had raised the bread to their mouths and carefully, subtly let it fall into their jacket sleeve.
“We drink this water – embittered by salt – to remind us of the bitterness and destruction of the Water War. We drink that humanity may never again be divided by conflict.” The citizens lifted their cups and drank. Or spilled it carefully down their wrists and arms to join the bread.
The Caretaker showed another sly smile and gave this call: “It is good to be a community.”
“It is good to be a community,” came the chorus response. At this benediction, everyone stood up to get back to their tasks and conversations slowly filled the room. Morgan needed fresh air. She reminded Alethea when and where to be that night and made her way outside. She leaned on a tree, closed her eyes, and breathed out the emotional burden of sitting through the day’s assembly.
**
A member of Morgan’s liberated group was a third-shift maintenance worker and knew a way to get outside the wall without being seen. Another member was a housekeeper in the guard’s barracks. He had put sleeping medication in the coffee for the night watch. And there was a new moon that night. The perfect plan.
Two dozen or so figures dressed in dark clothes emerged from a hole in the wall and into the dense forest outside the town. Morgan led them. If she were honest, she wasn’t much of a leader. She had no idea what they should do once they were outside the wall, but everyone looked to her for the next move. She couldn’t afford to doubt herself; they were out now. A wrong step and they could be spotted.
Morgan motioned for quiet – not that anyone needed the reminder – and crept further into the forest. What were they looking for? What would they do when they found it? Would they find anything at all? She didn’t know, but she had to try. She couldn’t live in that town as the only one with a memory. She’d seen the shadows and distortions for what they were; there was no going back to the life she knew only one day at a time. She’d rather … “Yes, I’d rather die,” she thought and pressed onward into the dark.
An hour later Morgan slowed then stopped. She leaned against the rockface they had been following. It stretched high into the night; it ran behind them and on ahead as far as she could see. She stared at the ground. They hadn’t found anything. Just this cliff and trees, trees that provided no answers to burning questions. Morgan was thinking of leading the group back to town when she noticed Alethea standing beside her.
“It’s okay, honey,” Alethea said as if she could see Morgan’s feelings of failure. “You don’t have to lead us to some big treasure chest of answers. Look at us all. We’re all here, outside the wall for the first time we can remember. We owe that to you. And you know we’ll do this again until we –”
Alethea was cut short by a yell from one of the group. The yell, too, was ended abruptly as the man was struck in the head by the butt of a rifle. Knocked to the ground, he scrambled to the rest of the group who were then backs to the rockface and confronted by a semi-circle of thirty rifles and black masks. Morgan recognized them as the best-trained of the town guard.
The Caretaker emerged from the shadow of the forest and walked just in front of the soldiers. He paused and looked at his two dozen citizens who were caught violating the sacred pledges of town safety. “Now this is … unfortunate. What do I do with you? Hm?” He stepped close to Morgan, who was at the front of the group, and looked into her eyes for an uncomfortable amount of time. “Yes. You’re awake, aren’t you?”
Morgan’s eyes were more than awake, they were determined and ablaze with defiance. She carried freedom and power in her voice. “We know you’ve been drugging us. It isn’t salt in the communion water; it’s a sedative. We know, and now we remember. We can think for ourselves, and we won’t stop until ever last citizen is free. We won’t stop until we know the truth. Your rule as our ‘caretaker’ is over.”
The Caretaker turned his back on Morgan and resumed his place with the soldiers at his back. He paused for a moment, furrowing his brow. “Well, here we are. I’ll give you a choice. Either you can all take the sedative right here, or –”
“You can shove that poison right up your ass!” said the teenage boy Morgan had seen earlier at the assembly. “We’ll never go back to your hellhole!”
The Caretaker shook his head and sighed as if he were being terribly inconvenienced. “Very well. Kill them all.” The rockface shone brilliantly from the simultaneous muzzle flash of thirty rifles and then went dark again, silent as a gravestone.
“Ugh,” said the caretaker in disgust. “I’ll have a crew clean this up in the morning. Let’s get back to town. I need to prepare for the morning assembly.”
**
Dawn rose blood-red. After the routine morning theatrics of the zombie-like man being shot, and after the sirens had stopped, but before everything calmed down, a single shadow crept out of a forgotten maintenance tunnel and into the town. The night before, at the perfect instant, Alethea had anticipated the kill order and dropped to the ground as the rifles fired. A bullet had grazed her shoulder, but that pain couldn’t compare to playing dead in a mound of her companions.
Exhausted, dazed, and overcome by defeat, Alethea made her way toward the assembly hall. The meeting was early that morning. “After all,” Alethea thought, “he’ll have to explain why a dozen citizens are missing. Explain to those who might remember them anyway.” She scoffed out loud.
“Are you okay, Mrs. Alethea?” came the small and genuine voice of a child, little Tyler Akers. Alethea didn’t usually like kids, but Tyler was a different story. He was an old soul and Alethea appreciated that.
Alethea looked at the boy. A thought struck her, and the strength of hope rolled defeat into its grave. She gave Tyler an honest smile. “Oh, I’m better than I’ve ever been. Say, Tyler, would you mind sitting with me at the assembly? I have an important question that might change your life.”