Population Control

Sami VIII

Fika – A moment to slow down and appreciate the little things in life

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Finally, I was through the cleansing process. It took what felt like hours. I wouldn't start undressing with the camera scrutinising my every move, or the military man standing with his arms folded and looming over me. Quickly, he grew impatient, wrestling me still and was about to do something else until someone spoke. They told him to let go, to leave the room, and instead there was something sent from the sky. Replacing the cushioned, white ceiling were metal water sprayers, like those used in a fire. "Don't worry child, this is only for now. Those things won't activate unless I press a button, and I won't do that as long as I don't think you're infected." Instead of going completely naked, I tied my shirt around my waist and let it hang to cover my back half. The man said it was OK.

Away from the prying eyes of those vultures, I saw Camille. There was a dark blue bench along the back black wall, no sides or back support to it. Like a bus stop bench. Two cameras in either corner, and a white ceiling. Walking across, my feet echoed on the metal. We sat beside each other, and she gripped my hand. "Where are we?" She asked.

"I have no idea." I whispered back. "There were so many bodies along the beach, in the town... Do you think they did that?"

"I hope not, but from our past experience, most likely." It was some type of military operation, maybe a research centre? They did have a rescue operation, so it could be a mix of both.

The door to our left opened, and in walked a tall, older woman with short grey hair. Her nose was crooked, her eyes were sharp like an eagle, and her mouth set in an unnerving smile. Unlike the other soldiers, her uniform was decorated with golden medals. "Welcome to the French Aid To England base, or A.T.E for short. I am Colonel Carol Maddox." She had an English accent. "And your names are?"

"Camille Summers."

"Sami Jones, Ma'am." Should I salute? Bow?

"Where are our friends?" Camille jumped in.

"Jason and Matthew are in the operating rooms as we speak and will hopefully be ready to join us soon." Her smile grew kinder, her eyes softening to a rounder shape. "I know this is a little overwhelming, somewhat scary, but you're safe now, I promise. This whole operation was set up to save people like you from England, you have nothing to worry about anymore." With a weary mind, I followed behind Camille, our hands still joint. The low winter sun blinded us from the open garage doors, so large they could fit planes through. There was cargo, stocked shelves of boxes, machines with so much detail I was scared to even walk over to it in case something went wrong.

"This way to my office." She stood at our side so there was no escape (Camille had a look in her eyes like she wanted to run, looking around the room presumably for cameras). All the army men and women we passed ignored us, some of the people in white coats took a second glance. We weren't exactly clean, what with our hair sprinkled with sand and dried blood stains on our joined hands.

Her office wasn't anything fancy. White walls, grey carpet, two metal black chairs on side of the white desk and one cushioned spinny-chair on the other side. There was a plant pot hanging on the wall along with a few photos and posters, all propaganda: 'WE NEED YOU', 'ARMY: A FAMILY', 'FIGHT FOR YOUR COUNTRY'. Proudly, the British flag stood behind the sharp font of the last poster.

She took a seat on her comfortable chair, and we perched on the metal ones. "I am sure you have questions; I have some too. If we co-operate, we can both meet the best conclusion."

"What is this for? How were you set up?" I asked. Surely, if they were made to 'aid' England, all the dead bodies on the shore wouldn't be lifeless, more helicopters and planes would be out, they would have helped as soon as they could.

"There was a faction of subordinates in the EU who wanted to send help to England, and this faction soon spread world-wide, and this organisation was born. We are established internationally to help any former-UK residence seek refuge in a more stable country." It was a planned speech, anyone could tell.

"What day did this... epidemic start for you? When did you see any signs of abnormal behaviour?"

"On, on September first, when they allowed kids back to school after lifting the lockdown." Camille answered.

Carol looked at me, "right, and you were the man who published that video, can you tell me anything about that?" We kept going back and forth, and eventually we told her all we could, but said that Jason and Matthew had other information.

Later, she escorted us to our sleeping quarters, and on the prison-like bunkbeds were our backpacks. My knives were gone, Matthew's katana wasn't with his Jordan backpack, Jason's gun was gone from his suitcase, and Camille's archery equipment disappeared. "All our stuff isn't here." Camille sent an accusing glare that Carol countered with a forced smile.
"We removed any harmful objects from your possessions because we haven't run a mental assessment yet, you can use them in a controlled environment with a qualified soldier present."

"But they belong to us." Camille pointed out.

"Everyone has had their weapons confiscated, it is nothing directed at only you." She closed the metal door as she left, but I didn't hear a lock click.

This would be our new home now. A vastly empty room with no wallpaper covering the steel walls or piping, a chequered floor of different grey shades, and a blinding strip of white lights above we didn't even have the power to turn off (no switch on the inside or the out). Three bunk beds lined the walls, and everything was pristine. Not a single crease in the bedsheets, the pillows. One door led off between two bunkbeds, which must be the bathroom. There was a big pole along the back with hangers on, and two chests of drawers on the side by the back wall. Collectively, we didn't have enough things to fill them.

"What do you think?" I asked as I neatly arranged my things in one draw.

Camille continued hanging her clothes. "I think, we go as soon as we can."

"But to where? Do you speak French?"

"My incomplete GCSE can get me a croissant." She joked. "Right now, this is our only option." I turned to face her, watching her back while she moved around. "Matthew and Jason need to heal, we don't have a source of income, we have no shelter, no food. We need these people."

"Look at you coming to executive decisions." She raised an eyebrow and did a mock round of applause.

We left our room after we changed back, our clothes previously having been washed, dried, and pressed. Immediately, Carol took us to Jason and Matthew, who were lying in hospital beds, multiple pipes going to multiple places. Matthew's leg was covered, and so was Jason's arm. This time, Jason had a sling, the wooden arm probably somewhere in the bin.

Matthew smiled when he saw me, and I rushed over, gently taking a seat by his side. His fingers moved, so I grabbed his hand, tracing along the veins and the indents. "How are you?"

"Peachy." His smile was delirious, but it made me laugh all the same.

"They fixed you up, right? No permanent damage?" I knew how important football was to him, if he couldn't play, he wouldn't be himself.

"I'll be ready to go in a few days, they only need to stay and monitor me." His heartbeat was at a steady pace, maybe a bit slow from what I remember on TV. We talked, and I was about to ask where he was taken and how he was manhandled, when Camille stood, not saying a word to either of us, and briskly walked from the room.