Savage

Chapter Six - Sahara

Chapter Six

Sahara

An array of file information and neighborhood inquiries cover my entire bed. I should be working, but instead, I am lying on my back, staring at a report I finished hours ago. It isn't until I catch a glimpse of Mother's red hair that I spring back into a seated position. She waltzes in my direction, but her head is downturned, enthralled by something on her electronic. I quickly pull more papers onto my lap, and when she enters the room, I pretend not to notice.

"Time to sleep, Sahara."

"Goodnight Mother," I say as I slide the files back into their respective boxes. Mother nods and moves onto Nielle's room.

I crawl out of bed and change into a nightgown, careful to keep my back turned away from Nielle. As she undresses, I stare at her smooth, unscathed back. She's never been whipped, that much I can tell. But I've always wondered if she's felt the strike of Mother's hand against her cheek. I want to ask—I need to—but something always stops me.

When Mother retires to bed, Nielle bids me goodnight with her soft, half-smile. I return the gesture before tucking myself deep beneath the covers. Before long, the neighborhood's power shuts down and submerges the streets into blackness. It's too dark to see much, but I stare outside anyway, picturing the row of uniform white houses. They are all so similar, both the homes and their inhabitants. Poor, but nice enough. The only one who strays from normalcy is Ms. Mortera. I quickly shake my thoughts before they become any more dangerous. There is nothing suspicious about Ms. Mortera, nor her surveillance camera.

With heavy thoughts about Ms. Mortera, I start to drift, my eyelids grow heavy and my limbs slacken. But then, a sudden flicker of movement catches my eye. It is gone before I truly see it: a flash of white glowing from a few houses down. The outside street returns to darkness, but I know I saw something. I scramble out of bed, dragging the thick duvet with me as I creep to the window. I strain my vision for a long while, peering into the blackness until I am sure I have imagined it. Then, another wavering movement. White clothes illuminated against the black night, floating between the trees of Weston Forest.

It moves quickly, almost like an intense dance, dipping between trees and leaping out of sight. I run my tongue over my lips, but it is no use. My entire mouth has gone dry, scorching my tongue and throat until I feel like I can't breathe. Nobody would dare be out past curfew, not with the severe laws against it. My pulse rings through my ears, and I think it's whispering to me. Telling me to believe the impossible, to ignore Mother's incessant demand that the Weston women are hallucinating. Telling me that the ghostly shadow belongs to that of a ferocious Brute.

I fling the covers back onto my bed and glance once more out the window. The Brute has again vanished, but I remember its general direction: deeper into the forest. A heavy shiver rolls up my spine, momentarily paralyzing me. I somehow manage to push forward, to leave my bedroom and to continue toward Mother's room. She will know exactly what to do, who to call, how to stop it.

But just as I reach the threshold of her bedroom, I freeze. Mother believes the Brute rumors to be exactly that: rumors. She will find my sighting as paranoid and senseless as the other women's. I can almost imagine her face if I were to wake her in the middle of the night, exclaiming some sort of far-fetched story of a non-existent creature. Besides, I don't truly know what I saw. It could've been a sleepwalking woman for all I know.

Still, I can't let the shadow escape, regardless of whom or what it is. Nobody is allowed to be out past curfew. Sneaking out after eight o'clock is one of our nation's greatest crimes, for only delinquents have reason to be out in the dead of night. No matter who is lingering in the Weston Forest, it is my duty as a Level One officer to insure that she is incarcerated. Sitting back and allowing the criminal to escape is almost as terrible as committing the actual felony.