City of Sanctuary (Part 2)

This is part 2 of my City of Sanctuary series. I recommend reading part 1 before reading this story.

“It all happened 5 decades ago. I was in the middle of it all, and I had no idea of what I was doing. I was uncertain, you see, after escaping home. “

“Tell me more, Grandpa!”

“It’s quite a long story. Are you sure you want to hear it?”

My granddaughter nods vigorously, and so I begin my story.

But the trauma gets ahold of me. It turns a simple story into a first-person perspective adventure-but not of the good kind. But I can’t do anything about it while I’m being pushed by the flood of memories. They wash around me, swirling in intricate patterns. The memory-ridden floodwaters rise, and they close over my head. 

My first sight of the outside isn’t a dystopia, as it’s pitch black and the moonlight only illuminates a few things. I turn on my flashlight and swing it across the ground, making sure that I’m safe. 

I’m standing in a field, where the grass more green than anything I’ve ever seen before and completely different from the simulations-is up to my ankles. I turn back to look at the house. An ugly block of iron meets my eyes, with imposing walls and antennas sticking out of the roof. Its shape takes me aback. 

Who knew the house looked so ugly? I guess nobody cares, as not a single soul is out here.

“Oh well”, I sigh. No use in going out and exploring now, in the dark. Anyways, I’m sleepy.  I grab a bedsheet from my bag and spread it on the ground, and then take another bedsheet and fasten one side to the house and the other to the ground. I feel quite clumsy with the suit, and my fingers fumble with the bedsheet. Finally, I have a basic lean-to, which I hope will hold. 

As I lay down, I realize something. What if my parents come outside? No way. They were the ones who wanted to Banish me in the first place. 

I lie down on the ground, my suit and the tall grass providing cushioning, just like my mattress inside. 

I wake up at the crack of dawn, thrilled to see the world that I’m in, the one that our ancestors lived in. I’m right on time, as the sun’s rays peek out from the trees. What I see awes me. 

The sun rises above the trees, shining its rays against their leaves, which are greener than anything I’ve ever seen. A breeze ripples through, making the leaves rustle and the grass to wave to me. The blue sky looks like a baby’s blanket covering me. I hear some squawking, and turn my head around to find out where the noise is coming from. And up there, in the sky, a flock of geese beats their wings, flying overhead. 

I look down and see a small fingernail-sized red bug on a blade of grass, with spots on its back. The air looks so clean and smells like purity. There is dew on the grass, which makes the grass shine along with the sun. 

I turn around, taking in my surroundings in a new state of awe. Nature… It’s just so beautiful. 

As much as I want to run around in the field, I need to break down my camp. 

While I do that, fumbling with the cloth, I wonder, “What’s my next move? I got out of the house, but what do I do now? Do I have a plan?” 

As I ponder this, my grandfather’s voice echoes in my head. “Just keep moving on. That’s how we did it. We never knew what was going to happen. We just went with the flow.” 

That’s right. Keep moving with the flow. So I pick up my bag and head into the wilderness.

That’s how I spend the next few weeks of my life. Keep moving, and never doubting myself if this was the right decision to make. 

I walk during the day and make a lean-to at night. 

Over this course of time, I discover the many characteristics of life outside. The grass, the soil, the insects and bugs, the trees, the sun, and so much more.

One day, as I awake, I hear some rustling next to me. I tense, ready for a fight or flight. What might it be? 

I clutch a small knife from home in my hand, but it doesn’t make me feel any safer. 

I hear some more rustling to my right, and out pops a deer. 

It’s beady black eyes stare back at me for a second before it scampers away into the undergrowth. 

As I trek through the undergrowth, I keep replaying the encounter in my mind. The deer looked so elegant and beautiful. I see some other animals from afar, but they don’t come as close as the deer. 

I later sit down to take a break, and my stomach rumbles. I rummage through my bag for some food, and only come up with two cans of peaches. I then place them in my food chute built into the suit, and then the peaches fly up into my mouth. That keeps every clean and sanitary. As I eat, I think about my diminishing food stock. 

I need more food. But how? I open a can of peaches, gobble it down, and set out again. All the while I think about how to get more food. 

Could I possibly eat fruits and berries on trees? No. They might be poisonous. Plus, they wouldn’t be enough to satisfy my hunger. 

I later finish off the other can of peaches and call it a day. I’m sweaty and tired, even though the suit’s solar air conditioner is running in high mode. I wish I could take off the suit. Who’s out here to infect me? Forget about the virus. I’m out here in the wild, alone. Although I want to take off the suit, I don’t. A corner of my mind tells me not to. 

The more concerning matter is food. As if on cue, my stomach rumbles.

I try to fall asleep, but my stomach doesn’t let me. I take a sip of water from my last water bottle, which is also reduced to its last dregs. Great. Now I know that I’m running low on water too. I’ve tried to ration it, but I haven’t seen a proper water source my entire time out here.

I wake up even earlier than usual the next day and break camp. I once again trudge through the plains, but more drowsy and sluggish than usual. I once read that a human can survive for a few weeks without food, but only a few days without water. 

But I have to accept reality: I might die. After all this effort, I’m going to die. Tears brim my eyes and then start rolling down my cheek. I only shed a few drops of tears before my eyes start drying up. I realize I have so little water in my body that I can’t even cry. 

I keep on moving, and slowly, some mountain silhouettes appear in the distance. I make it my goal to reach them.

I spend the rest of the day figuring out how to get water or food. While I take a break, it hits me. A bow. I remember it from my adventures on Google. 

I try to remember the design. It’s a curved branch with a string joining its ends. And then you have an arrow, which has a sharp end to pierce the animal. Perfect. Exactly what I need. 

With the prize of food in my mind, I get to fashioning the bow. I find a smooth almost-semicircular branch, and whittle it with my knife. I then take off my shoelaces and tie them between the two ends of the branch. I pluck the string, and it responds with a strong twang. I then take a straight branch and tape my knife to the end of it, making it sharp enough to pierce the animal. 

I spend some more time making grooves for my fingers and then practicing on a tree. It takes some practice, but I eventually get the hang of it. 

I then find an open area and scale a tree. I wait amongst its branches for my prey. I feel primitive, but I know it’s the only way.

I wait and wait. Eventually, a deer gallops into the clearing below me. It pauses and looks around, searching for danger. I hold my breath, determined not to make a sound. The deer moves a bit and takes a few bites of some leaves. I clock the arrow into my bow, and pull the string back, praying that my shot reaches the target. The knife glints in the sun, reflecting light onto my helmet visor. 

I wait for the right moment and then let go. The deer has only a split second to hear the whistling of the arrow, but manages to scamper away just in time. My arrow pierces the grass with a thump. I groan and go retrieve the arrow. 

What did I do wrong? I probably wasn’t close enough. I should be lower in the trees next time. So I once again scale the tree, determined to succeed. 

After a few minutes, a rabbit hops into the clearing below me. It pauses for a minute too, just like the deer. It bows its head and munches some grass. I clock the arrow again, this time much closer to the rabbit. I smile, knowing that the rabbit can’t escape. I then let go, and the rabbit tries to scamper away too but isn’t fast enough. The knife finds its mark, right into the hindquarters of the body. The rabbit squirms for a while, but not after I put my foot down on it. 

I feel horrified about what I just did at first, but I know it’s the only way for me to survive. My goal is to try to get the meat from inside the rabbit, so I take the knife and skin the body. I then attempt to make a fire with some matches from home and soon have a meager fire going with the rabbit carcass hanging above it. 

The rabbit tastes like heaven, and I almost feel like there was some water in the skin too. After the meal, I feel like gulping some water down, but I have no more.

How I used to take water for granted at home.  Home. The word feels so foreign... like it never has existed for me. I wonder what Mom, Dad, and Lucas are doing. Mom and Dad are probably okay, as this is what they wanted for me, to have me banished. But Lucas… He never did anything wrong. I wish I could have said goodbye to him. I miss him. 

But right now, I have a more concerning matter to attend to. Water.

I continue to trek the rest of the day, with the mountains slowly taking shape. I persuade myself that there must be water at the base of the mountains. 

My throat feels parched, and slowly, my lips and skin are also becoming caked. I can’t even produce saliva or sweat. I might die from dehydration. After a long day, I finally make it to the base of the mountains and cry with despair. 

No water. What do I do now? 

I once again make camp, but cannot sleep. I think if I somehow fall asleep, I might not get back up again. After ten minutes of lying down, I break camp again and trudge forward, determined to find water at the top of the mountain. The mountain gently slopes upward and has many switchbacks. That makes climbing easier. Each step is harder to take than the last. I take 10-minute breaks every 5 minutes. My legs burn and my heart aches. The bright moonlight is the only thing stopping me from walking off a cliff. 

As the sun rises, I reach the top of the mountain. I stagger to the top and see some yellowish-orange lights. My eyes have no more moisture and I can’t see. But I smell it. Water. 

I run with the last few bits of my energy towards it. Splash! I jump into a small pond. I open my food chute and slurp the water uncontrollably. I then spread it over my hands and body, moisturizing every area. I cry with joy, and tears roll down my face. I cry even harder, happy that I can shed tears now. 

I then relax, letting the water inside my suit and coating me. My vision slowly clears up, and I close my eyes and sit there for a few minutes. 

When I open my eyes, I gasp. I’m surrounded by people, all wearing suits like me. They look like teenagers too, and their eyes are wide with shock. We all stare at each other for a few minutes, and then I break the silence.

“Umm… Hello. I’m Ethan.”

 “Hi.” A boy responds. He seems to be the one in charge of the group, as his voice has a certain authority to it. 

I don’t beat behind the bush, and so the flow of questions starts, from both me and the group. 

After an hour, I come to know that they are all people like me. All of them.  It’s dawn by the time we finish talking, but they pitch an extra tent for me. I lie down, elated that I’m not alone out here. The relief is amazing.

In the afternoon, we break camp and head out. They have some extra water bottles, so I fill them up to the brim with the water from the rock pond. I look up and see a small steam trickling from the top of the mountain, while some trickles down. Everybody else heads off, parallel to the stream. I make my way down too, and try to make some small talk. 

I meet a boy named Josh, who’s 14 like me. He ran away from home too, but discreetly. He doubles over in laughter when he hears why the government was after me. Everybody else gathers around too, and I tell my tale again with more detail. They all laugh too, along with me. It’s been a long time since I’ve laughed like this, from the bottom of my heart. 

We keep heading on, through forests, plains, and mountains. Conversations get more heated, and we talk about the government, and how unjust our system is. I get to know Josh better, and we become a duo, an inseparable one. 

We gather some more kids along the way, and our group becomes a mighty group of 30. Each one of us is different in our own way, and we are all unique. We trade stories, experiences, and advice. We almost became a family. 

I’m lucky I found these people. I don’t know what I would have done without then, wandering around aimlessly. That’s still what we do now, but we can enjoy the world together. 

We hunt as a group, and people are impressed by my idea of a bow. Soon, we strike down entire herds of animals and gather hundreds of berries. We self sustain ourselves out here. 

We also pass many houses but dare not to go near or try to break in. We don’t want to risk it.

One day, a treat awaits me. We keep hiking, and slowly, everybody ahead of me stops. I look up and gasp. A giant abyss of water lies in front of me, sparkling and pure blue. 

The ocean. It looks more beautiful than it does in pictures. Gentle waves crash into the sandbar, and it stretches as far as I can see.

Everybody oohs and ahhs, and rushes through the sand to where the waves lap against the rocks. Josh and I place our bags on dry ground and go and jump in the water. I let it in my suit, and enjoy how it’s cold and refreshing. I don’t even have to turn on my suit’s internal cleaner, as the water evaporates in a few minutes. 

We spend the rest of the day on the shore, exploring every nook. I almost forget about the virus, enjoying the evening like a regular kid.

At sunset, an ear-splitting call makes us all rush to one side of the shore. A frantic person points in the distance, shaking. We all crane our necks to look, and there we see it, ending washing away all the fun we’ve had so far. A modern building sits on the ledge of a mountain, it’s lights glittering. The red sun is right behind it, casting a red glow around its silhouette. 

It’s a government building. We all sit down, surveying the building. I’ve had enough surprises for the day. First the ocean, and now this. 

Everybody’s voices are hushed as if they can hear us. Right next to me, Josh gets up and clears his throat. Everybody turns their heads towards him, their full attention on him. 

“That, as we all know, is a government building. Our enemies’ building. They probably have important documents there. And we need to break in.” He says, his voice coated with anger. “We need to find out things. We need answers. And they’re not coming to us, gift wrapped. Who’s with me?”

“I am,” I say.

After the tale, the flood memory-waters wash away, and I’m brought back into the present day. 

“And that’s it Grandpa?”

“Yes. The story does go on, but I think that’s enough for today.”

It felt good to vent the story out. That was the chain reaction that set off the Change.

“Will you tell me more about the Change tomorrow, Grandpa?”

“Yes, my dear. I will.”