The Hunt

Prologue

     A baby wails somewhere in the distance and is immediately silenced. These men are serious, they can't risk anyone else seeing them. Hunched over wooden tables, they scribble notes in thick, heavy books, and type up paragraphs on state-of-the-art computers. They speak in gruff, course voices, as quite as they can.

     The huge map on the pale wall behind them seems innocent, it has to be incase they ever need to flee. It is a map of the States, pin-pricked with dots showing cities that have a strong influence from the President. These dots are fewer and fewer every day as these men prepare for what is to come.

     One man looks at the map, then quickly turns back to his notes. His gray eyes flit around the room, wondering if anyone saw. He is doubting this plan, wondering if overthrowing the government is the right path to take. Someone must know this, because he is taken out of the room not five minutes later. He goes with no struggle and is never seen again.

     Another man stands, his wooden chair scraping against the floor the only sound in the dark, quiet room. His stark white mustache and beard blend together, covering half his face. All the men in the room have them, if they are caught no one can see their facial features.

     He speaks to the other men in a harsh whisper, barely audible. No sensors can pick up the sound. The men lean closer, straining their ears to hear the man speak. He tells them to write up their legacy, so they won't forget. The men turn back to their computers.

     They know what this means. To make up lies, telling about the "corrupt government" that rules the States. Blaming everything on the President, when really everything to blame is on them. Telling about the blissful creation of the government. Everyone in the future will eat up the lies, they know. They will see what the Hunters do as peace, justice, fairness. They won't hear anything about the revolts that are soon to come. Writing lies is the only way to make sure that the government that is soon to come stays.

     One man grunts with exhaustion, and he too is taken out of the room, never to be seen again. But he struggles, screaming that he was having breathing problems, trying to cover up the obvious fact that he doesn't like the plan. It doesn't work.

     Many are lost this way everyday, numbers are dwindling. It is time to act, they have been saying. It is time to put the plan in action, and once the government is gone, put the Hunt in action. It's the only way they say. They believe that their idea of a country is better. Divide it into groups, with the people that look, talk, and think alike. The Hunt will get rid of all of the outliers, they say. We will have a nation of perfect, symmetrical people, they whisper.

     The elderly man stands up again. He is clearly one of the leaders. Go, he tells them, put the plan in action, he says. The men file out of the room, orderly, neat, the backs of their shaved heads bobbing to the same rhythm. Some say they are robots, but no. They are humans. Trained to perfection.

     As they file out of the room, I take the chance and dash out the door, my longlegs flying down the maze of corriders. This is the last day before everything will go haywire. This I am sure of. 

 -A. Jackson, October 24th,2015