The Untold Future

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I had finally returned to my home. I was lost for weeks before finally finding my way home. Nobody joined me in the glorious moment in which I was reunited with familiarity. No friends, no family, just me, walking down the empty street that is currently devoid of human life. I entered my home, the door was unlocked. I raided the pantry and the garage. They left the green four-wheeler, my favorite.

I went upstairs to investigate my room. It was strangely pristine. As if nobody had touched it except for the fact that my electronics, cords, and lightbulbs were taken. I picked up my golden compass and looked in the storage unit beneath my bed. I found what I was looking for. My go-bag was still here. ( I realize not everyone has a go-bag so I'll explain it. A go-bag is a bag one uses as a last resort in case the poop hits the fan. It's packed with things you need for survival.) I checked my bag, everything was still there in my pack. The sun began to dip beneath the mountainous terrain of the horizon. That's when I heard it. Footsteps, lots of them. All of them in unison. All of them were marching. I heard vehicles rumbling behind the troop of people.

Before I knew it, I was hiding in my own home. I instinctively began to find places to hide my go-bag and myself. That's when I remembered, the quad! It would be taken for sure. I ran down the stairs as quickly and as quietly as I could. I grabbed the key and knew, because of the size of the convoy, that it was only a preliminary search. They'd only take what they could and come back with the necessary tools to hot-wire machines, break into gun lockers, and who knows what else. I grabbed the leftover gas cans and hurried up the stairs.

I ended up crouching next to the window with my pocketknife at the ready as well as my go-bag, the quad keys, and the gas cans. The convoy was passing by searching, every house, stripping them of all that was valued, food, water, books, electrical parts, gas and fuel, wood, metal, coal, oil, soaps, and... people. Male, female, it didn't matter. If it was a man or a boy, the convoy would consider it unlucky but still welcome. Slavery has come back. Only color and race didn't matter this time, gender did. If you are a strong, husky, durable man, you will work the fields. If you are a shrimpy, small man or a boy, you will work in the household, sewing, cleaning, preparing meals, that kind of stuff.

Women... Women are... Women are becoming an expensive commodity, especially virgins. Teenage girls such as myself are preyed on. I'm not going to get caught, I thought to my self. I'm not going to get caught. If you aren't with a major gang already you're screwed. I'm not with a major gang, I'm screwed. I kept a close watch on all the members of the convoy. They weren't dressed in proper military gear but their faces and stature alone told me I shouldn't tango with them. They were armed. Everyone was in step.

I heard an argument break out just down the street. A girl was screaming. She was pulled from a house by her hair. She cried and wept into her hands after she was brought in front of the crowd to who, I assume was the leader because he was on a horse and one of the oldest there. He took a look at the poor, little thing in front of him. He studied her closely.

"Her face," he said in a deep voice, "show me her face."

Another soldier came forward. He wasn't like the others. He was young, a teenager in fact. He didn't look as battle-worn but he still carried himself the same way. He was more gentle to the girl than the others had been. He stroked the little girls head and gently pulled her hands from her face. He then followed the command of his superior by turning up the girl's innocent face. The boy smiled at her allowing an emotion to show through.

"Let me look at her more closely," the commander, well, commanded.

The young man picked her up and took her in his arms. His commander drew a blade from his boot. You could see the horror in both the eyes of the girl and the eyes of the young man. I whistled as if I were a bird but louder. I then whistled a tune so they could tell I wasn't a bird.

"What was that?" The commander's head whipped around as he tried to decipher were the noise had come from.

"It's just a bird that learned a tune! What's more important is the 'soldier' in front of you, sir!" Another soldier had stepped forward from the ranks.

"Oh?" The commander's tone was both curious and threatening. "And why is that?"

"Can't you see it in the boy's eyes? He doubts you, sir!" After the soldier said this the boy quickly regained his neutral composer.

"He looks fine to me. Could use a little more experience I suppose."

"Yes, sir."

"Shall I?"

"Shall you what, sir?" I took the gasoline cans and closed the nozzles and tied them on my go-bag. I got the keys and crept downstairs noticing that this was my chance to escape.

"Teach him what happens when you begin to care for a child you don't know." The boy put the girl down gently and herded her behind him. "Soldier," the commander snapped, "do you challenge me?"

"That depends," the boy spoke calmly even as his commander towered over him, weapon drawn. He had an English accent as he spoke.

"On what," the commander said smirking.

"If you're going to hurt this child."

"Are you forgetting something?"

"Am I?"

"Well, for one, you're not calling me 'sir'. Secondly what about you?"

"I didn't forget, and what about me?"

"What if I hurt you and not the girl?"

"You lose a soldier."

"What about your life?"

"What about it?"

"Aren't you scared to lose it?"

"Lose what? Come on, you're starting to give me a headache! Be more clear when you ask questions!"

"Aren't you scared to lose your life?" The commander was getting frustrated and flustered. He was evidently getting tired of being toyed with.

"Nah. Hell, if I fight for a good cause, I don't give a damn a what happens to me."

"Aren't you scared to go to Hell?"

"I won't be going but if I do it's only so I can visit you there."

There was a murmuring from the crowd.

"See," said the soldier who had put the boy's loyalty into question, "he is a traitor!" The murmurs turned to yells. I took this opportunity to open the garage door.

"Silence!" The commander yelled to his soldiers. I put on my go-bag and had a knife and a key at the ready. "Little girl," he said, "will you do the pleasure of riding with me?" The girl didn't reply. "Little girl?" Still no answer.

I saw the boy tap the little girl and make a gesture behind his back. The girl turned and spotted me but she turned right back around to face the commander. "What's wrong with her?" The yelling and the confusion resumed. I started my engine in neutral and warmed up the engine. It sputtered before roaring to life. I kicked up to fourth gear, fast but still powerful, and drove it out of the driveway and straight to the front of the crowd. My eyes and those of the boy met as he signed to the girl and patted her. She came forward and walked to the front of my quad I motioned her over and put her in front of me and put her hands where she had to hold on. Then I drove forward breaking a line in the crowd. I was able to go through without being shot thanks to the confusion. I looked back and saw the commander, who was angry at the fact that he was right to focus on the ominous whistling that occurred. The commander gave me the death stare. I turned back around, kicked it up to fifth gear, and sped around the corner. I was speeding away to a forest that I knew nearby.