The Dark Side of the Wall

THREE

Sector Three. The worst of the Sectors. It was the home of the poor and the home of the slave trade. In Sector three people are objects, not human beings. Most slaves in Sector Three don't live more than a year. They are either killed by their masters, or they kill themselves. One of the punishments for breaking the law is being sent to Sector Three. If you have a choice, people would rather choose death.

"Why do we need to go to Sector Three again?" I sighed, already frustrated with this 'quest' we were on. "How could something so valuable need to go there?"

"Can you slow down," Matthew said out of breath. He has been having a hard time keeping up with me. I paused looking back at him. He leaned against a tree. "Thats where the vial needs to be delivered and where you'll get your money."

I climbed to the top of a small hill. The trees dispersed as we came to the edge of the forest—my home. I looked back to the thick trees behind me. I felt the protection of their cover dissolve as we walked further away. I stopped and took in the view in front of me.

After several hours of hiking only the moon above us glowed and lit the hilly landscape. Beautiful green grass stretched for miles. I smile at the beauty of the night. Matthew walked up beside me.

"We should stop and set up camp. We've been walking for hours," Matthew almost wined as he sat down.

"We're still Three days from Sector Three. I want to get there as soon as possible," I said, continuing our hike.

"We'll never get there if we die of exhaustion," Matthew's dramatics brought me to a halt.

"I cannot wait until we can go our separate ways," I slipped my bag off my shoulder. I pulled a small blanket out of my bag and laid it on the ground. Matthew does the same. A breeze blows through the air and a shiver cascades down my spine.

"We should build a fire," Matthew suggested. I was going to protest, but another cold breeze interrupted my thought.

"Fine," I pulled a box of matches out of my bag.

Matthew's eyes widened as he looked at the matches in my hand. "Where did you get those? I haven't seen matches in years."

"What can I say? I'm good at scavenging," Matches are a scarce resource. "I found them in the city. There is always something still hidden. It could be in a locked cabinet or under rubble." I explained.

"Why use them now? Why not sell them?" Matthew continued with his questions.

"They're useful when you don't feel like waiting for a winey man child to build one from scratch." I don't use them often, but I wanted to spend as little time with this fire as possible.

Matthew seemed offended by my statement but didn't comment. He walked to the edge of the woods and disappeared in search of firewood. I sat on my blanket. I felt the crystal eye I had put into my back pocket earlier that day. I took it out of my pocket examined how the firelight glittered through. I decided to wear it and keep it close—a reminder of how dangerous the world can be. I got a leather string from my bag and wrapped it around the eye. I tied it around my neck and tucked it into my shirt. If anyone saw me with it, who knows what they would do to get it for themselves. It would be safest tucked away.

Matthew came back with firewood and placed it down between our blankets. Together we set up a small fire to keep us warm. I laid on my blanket, facing the fire. I put a hand on the handle of the blade at my waist. Taima settled behind me and rested her head on my hips, keeping an eye on Matthew.

"Taima will bite your hand off if you try to take the vial from me while I sleep," I warned him. I turned to her. "Won't you!" I fluffed the hair on her head. She wagged her tail, happy with the attention. "Good girl!"