Papers

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"In there, kids," Sam said and pointed into a brush of thorny branches and vines.

We piled into the brush. Our limbs were more tangled than the forest rot beneath us. Strands of V33's curly hair tickled my lips, S51's cheek rested on my shoulder, and the girls book crushed my fingers like a brick.

Sam and Tom stood in the middle of the trail.

"Halt!" a stern voice came from yards away.

Sam jolted his head up like a freighted animal and lifted his hands over his head. The black steel of his gun dropped to the forest floor. He had abandoned our only chance to fight. The only terrifying question was who could make him do this.

From an open space of vines, we could see a man and woman both in black uniforms. The colorful buttons on their chest were polished like miniature mirrors. Each wore solid white masks that covered their whole face and made them look like strange dolls. They were fearsome and faceless.

"What is your status," the faceless man said to our captures.

Sam and Tom placed their hands behind their heads.

"Us?" Sam said as if they were the only ones there, "We're just some travelers looking to get back to camp. And you?"

Tom looked on, agony etched into his face.

"Our camp is just over the bank," Tom said, "I can show you our -"

"What is your status," the faceless woman repeated with more bite.

"We told you already. Tra-vel-errrrs," Sam said each word as if the faceless people were deaf.

"Do you have any information regarding the current condition of Charles S. Cohen. Director of the Edgar Center?" the faceless woman continued.

Cohen. It startled me to hear his name again. What happened to him?

"Is he from that the place with all little ones running about?" Sam said.

Tom's hands fidgeted on the back of his neck. The faceless people craned their narrowed eyes on his nervous movements.

"There was an attack on the Edgar center at approximately six-hundred hours today," the faceless man said, "It was the work of unidentified travelers still out of Ally custody."

"We haven't been here in -," Tom said and slowed his words.

"What was your location at six-hundred hours today, unregistered traveler?"

"We were sent to trade supplies at the Ally post. And I keep trying to tell you we're not -"

"Which Ally post did you report to?"

"The one on top of Cedar Hill, opposite the river," Tom said, his voice strained, "It was a 12 days walk, and we'd really like to get back to our camp."

"Unregistered travelers are prohibited from trespassing on Ally territories," the faceless women said.

"If you'd li-sten, you'd know that we are registered. Here, let me show you our -," Tom said and lowered his hands with empty palms in full view.

It happened too fast. Too fast that I didn't hear the cry crawl from my lungs or see the hands that silenced me.

The faceless woman's arm launched from her side. She left no time for Tom to show what was in his pocket. His head jolted back. His lifeless limbs flailed on their way to the ground. A flimsy piece of paper cascaded down onto the leaves.

"The papers! He was showing you his papers!" Sam shouted and pulled his hair.

I was also shaking. We were only hidden under the thin vines.

"Ally scum that's what you are. I'd rather be dead than end up -"

There was a sharp crack of a gun. Then the forest was still.

Not an animal scurried, or a breeze moved through the trees. It was only still.

The faceless people continued up the path. They strolled by our hiding place with heads high above their shoulders as if it had not happened.

I wish I could have done the same. We all did.

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