The Iron Hallway

Chapter 1

"But Baird," Abigail began with her brow furrowed and her voice dripping with worry, "Our Prime Minister just surrendered to the Alconteans last week! Ferange is all theirs now! I don't understand how you're not concerned about the RF's arrival!" 

I shrugged, leaned back in my seat, and put my feet up on the table. "Listen, Abby, the Alcontean Empire's border with Ferange—" 

"There is no border, Baird! We're them, and they're us, now!" 

"Don't interrupt me, please. Now, as I was saying, they're on our eastern border, right?" 

Abigail hesitantly nodded. "Yes." 

"And we're on the West Coast. So yes, the Redistribution Force will be here eventually, but they've had less than a week to do their work. That's not nearly enough time to work through all the cities east of us. See what I'm saying?" 

"I guess you—" Abigail abruptly stopped speaking as a sharp rap on the door drew us both out of our dialogue. 

I sighed and swung my feet off the desk, onto the floor below. "I thought I told the mailman last week that we have a mailbox for a reason." I muttered. 

Abigail nodded quickly. "You did." 

With a sigh, I strolled over to the front door and opened it. My audible utterance quickly transformed from a sigh to a gasp as I beheld the menacing figure before me. He sported a skull-like helmet with a crimson hue and a bulky, grated box protruding from where its mouth belonged. It remained to be seen whether the device was an air-filtration system or a voice modifier, but at any rate, it added to his intimidating aesthetic. A squad of grim-faced soldiers stood behind the towering individual. 

"Hello," the scarlet-clad person began in a voice the pitch of a tuba and the grittiness of sand, "I am Dirk Josante, Overseer of the Redistribution Force. Step aside so we can enter your house." 

I furrowed my brow. "Excuse you, sir, but you have no right to enter my home without my permission." 

The figure's visor morphed from jet-black to a bright violet. "I'm afraid we do. You have no other choice. Your resistance could very well cost you your life." 

"Just like that, huh?" I shook my head and stepped aside, holding the door open as I did so. 

Dirk's flowing black cape brushed against my leg as he passed, but I soon forgot that sensation as his ten-man squad of soldiers plowed their way into my house, hitting me with their elbows and gun stocks as they passed. Once they had all stepped over the threshold, I shut the door and rubbed my throbbing arm. 

"Now," Dirk began as I stepped into the living room, where he had already seated himself in my easy chair, "we've come to ask some questions." 

I moved to sit in the last vacant chair, only for the tenth soldier to dash in from the kitchen and plop down ahead of me. I rolled my eyes and turned back to Dirk. "I figured as much, Mr. Josante. What do you want to know?" 

"First, what is your name, first and last?" 

"Baird Amergin." 

"Age?" 

"Twenty-two." 

"Occupation?" 

I paused for a second before answering. "I'm a writer ... and a bit of a poet. Haven't exactly found my niche in––" 

"I didn't ask for details, Mr. Amergin. Now, please hand over your ID card." 

With another roll of my eyes, I obliged our scarlet-clad visitor and rummaged in my pocket. Upon finding my wallet inside, I removed my ID card from it and placed it in Dirk's white-gloved hand. He nodded and unclipped a small scanner from his belt. Then he inserted my card halfway into the device, and a series of beeps later, he removed it and handed it back to me.