Lost in Refuge - Part 1

I’m happy. I mean, why not? Who isn’t happy? What’s wrong here? Nothing, that’s what. It’s perfect. A perfect place for a perfect, peaceful people.

I’m currently strolling down the sidewalks towards home, the soaring glass buildings touching the sky above me.

Cars drive by slowly, enjoying the peaceful day. Not that everyone doesn’t enjoy every happy day. There’s no bad traffic on the roads, and there hasn’t been since the Deliverance. The day everything changed. Of course, that was long before I was born. I’m glad I never had to live in that time, before the Elders saved us.

I’ve heard that some people are still living Out There. The Out There is outside the boundaries on our city, the monstrous world. I can’t believe anyone would want to live in the Out There.

I’ve never been there, of course. Why risk my life for nothing?

There have been strange stories I’ve heard, of the Out There, of monsters bigger then cars with long, swooping noses that tighten around your neck to strangle you, and things with sharp teeth that could rip you to shreds. I’ve heard of cats ten times their normal size. Or of long, skinny things that have fangs an inch long filled with poison. One bite and you’re instantly dead. I’ve heard that some can even shoot their venom from a distance and still kill you. I shudder. It sounds horrible.

I’m never going to the Out There. Life is perfect here, anyway, so why try something new?

Once one of my friends snuck out of our city, and she never returned. A sure sign of death. I was distraught over her loss, of course, but it also helped to prove my point to my other three friends who wanted to go to the Out There. Don’t go. It’s a death wish.

A taxi cruises by slowly, and I wave my arm and call to the driver. He slows to a stop and I get in the back seat.

I heard a story once, that there used to be something called seat-belts in cars because there were so many car accidents. They sound uncomfortable.

“Where to, Myra?” asks the driver. The driver is a friend of mine, Josh Horn.

“Third Building on First Street,” I reply. Another story I heard once said that names for buildings and places used to be so complicated. Now it’s so much easier.

“What’s new?” asks Josh, after a minute of silence.

“Not much. My cat, Patches, knocked down a vase this morning. It fell on my couch, though, so it didn’t break.”

Josh makes a hmm sound.

Before long we made it to my street, which was, unfortunately, right next to the Defending Wall. On the other side of it is the Out There.

“Thanks.” I slide out of the taxi and wave goodbye.

Josh pulls away, and I look towards the Gate. It’s large. There are four Gates, one facing east, another west, south, and then north. This is the Western Gate. As I’m watching, the Gate slides open on silent hinges, and a procession of recruiter trucks start slowly pulling out of the city. They’re going to try to convince more people in the Out There to come in. Recruitment. That’s what they call it.

They go out once a year. I missed them going out the past two years, been at other places, but I have seen the trucks leave before. Although… my gaze has never gone to the Out There. Once my eyes are there, they won’t leave. It looks so strange, exotic, and I can’t help but be intrigued.

There are these huge things, tall, they’re grayish-brown, branching out into lots of odd, bent poles. Poles doesn’t seem like the right word to suit those, but I don’t know what else to call them.

Vibrant green things are coming off of them, lots of them. I wonder if those are monsters. But they don’t seem to be moving at all, so maybe not… a closer look might not hurt. And the trucks are driving right through them as well, so maybe they’re just some strange formation of some sort.

I walk closer, although, still wary, I stay out of the Out There. Spiky green stuff is coming out of the ground, but further on, under the odd formations, the ground is brown and rough-looking. The ground in the city is only a dull, gray-brown color—all the concrete—unless you count the carpets in the houses.

The trucks are still going out, and it will be a long while before all of them have completely excited the city. Why not step into the Out There for a minute? The truckers would help if anything came out to attack. They have plenty of weapons with them. Nobody should leave without at least five. In my opinion. Or more.

Then why am I leaving without any? But I tell myself that I’m just stepping outside for a minute. And I do.

The pointy green stuff bends easily under my shoes, and I cautiously reach down one hand to brush it. It’s soft, and warm from the sun.

Amazed, I reach out a hand to touch one of the odd, gray-brown formations. It’s rough. I slowly circle it, studying it carefully, then I reach up a hand to touch the little green things sprouting from it. Those are soft too, but their edges look almost sharp. But they aren’t.

I pull one, and it snaps off easily. I turn it over in front of me, studying it. There are tiny veins lacing their way through it. It seems alive. I’ve never thought of anything being alive except people and cats. We have robots, but those aren’t alive. These green things, though, seem to be alive in a different way. A beautiful, peaceful kind of way. Not the peaceful-happy we have, just a gentle, still peace. I’m not sure if I’m making sense or not.

This was all so new to me.

I walk a bit farther, and something starts crunching under my feet. I glance down. It’s the brown stuff. They are the same shape as the green thing I hold in my hand, except they look dead, and are brown. I pick one up to compare it to the green one. They aren’t exactly the same shape, but close.

The brown one is shriveled and it easily crumbles under my finger tips, whereas the green one is softer and doesn’t crumble under my fingers.

Something suddenly brushes me, all over, ripples through my clothes, but there’s nothing there. It feels like a draft from a fan or air conditioner, but there’s nothing to make any draft of any sort. It seems to come out of nowhere.

It feels cool and refreshing, bringing with it a smell of freedom and other things I can’t place.

I suddenly hear a noise behind me, and I whirl around, stories I’ve heard of beasts taller then a human, covered in thick, short fur, with claws longer then a hand made to rip people apart. There’s a strange thing jumping about in the branches, with—wait. Branches. Where’d I get that word? Okay, now that sounds like I never knew the word. It does fit those things perfectly, though. Branches. They definitely branch out from the main thing sticking up from the ground. Anyway. As I was saying...

The beast actually looked… cute. It was a bit smaller then my cat, although looked much more agile as it jumped through the air to different branches. My cat is very lazy. I could never imagine him agile.

It has a long, bushy tail streaming out from behind it. It has dark eyes.

But before long, it disappeared in the branches and the green stuff, and I hear another noise. This noise means danger for sure. It’s the alarm, which is going off to warn people the gates are closing. I turn and dash back. I make it just in time, stepping to safety.

I lay against the wall for a minute, inside the refuge, breathing heavily. A whole new world has been opened up before me today. I can’t help but feel excited about seeing it again. Maybe the Out There isn’t so dangerous after all…

I feel different. Something has changed. I’m not sure what, yet, but I know now that I’ve been trapped in here my whole life without ever getting a chance to see the outside world. I was told—as we all are—that we’ll die out there, that we’re being kept here for out safety. Kept against our will, that is. I can see the lie clearly now.

I wonder if my friend is still alive in the Out There. If she is, I’m glad she got out.

Only when I was inside my home did I realize I was still clutching the little green thing I had from the Out There.