The Dark Side of the Wall

Prologue

11 Years ago

I woke with a start, Cynthia, my maid, shaking me roughly. My brain fog not quite cleared, I assumed she was waking me to start getting ready for my 13th birthday celebration.

"Is it time already?" I sat up slowly and tried to rub the sleep from my eyes. I take in the surroundings of my room. It's too dark to be morning. The moon still high in the sky, giving my room a soft eerie glow. Cynthia rushed around with my backpack, shoving in a loaf of bread she pulls from her apron and clothes from my dresser.

She tosses me my jacket. "Put your shoes on," The stress in her voice makes me strain to understand her. "Don't worry about changing... We need to leave now!"

"Cynthia, what's wrong? Where are we going?" I toss my feet over the edge of my bed. My bare feet touch the cold, uninviting floor. Cynthia appears before me in an instant and brings her face close to mine.

"Your father is dead," I freeze. Cynthia continues, "Callas is going for your mother next, and then you... he needs to end you all to get what he wants."

"But Uncle Cameron is Father's friend..." The words come slowly. "He wouldn't..."

Cynthia sighs, her presence softening. She places her hands on my shoulders. "I'm sorry dear, but we need to get out of here now..."

I gave a small nod and put on my shoes and jacket. Disbelief still run through my brain like a stream, but the rushing waters shove me onward. Cynthia hands me the bag she packed and we slip into the dark hallway. Our quiet footsteps sound like thunder claps in the large mansion halls. My heartbeat pumps heat throughout my body; it makes my palms sweat, and I feel beads of moisture build on my temple.

As we wind through the maze like halls I realize where Cynthia leads us. I've walked through these halls for years and recognize the pattern of twists and turns we make. We're headed towards the kitchen. It has one of two back entrances. We make it to the final turn, the two way door of the kitchen in sight.

"They're here!" A voice booms behind us. I can't help but whip my head around. One of the presidential guards stands behind us. He looks terrifying in the torchlight he holds. His all black clothes paired with the black hood makes him look like a shadow. I used to be scared of the but my father told me they protected us. That reassurance melts away seeing the way this guard looks at us now.

Cynthia grasps my hand and we rush through the kitchen and out the back door. I can her the clatter of pots and pans, coupled with swearing as the door closes behind us. I briefly glance behind and see several guards mid-trip. The cold night air nips at my cheeks, cooling the nervous heat of the sweat on my brow. The moon shines between the tall buildings of Sector One. The smell of crisp damp brick wakes my senses. The breeze of the night whips through my hair. I squeeze Cynthia's hand trying to keep up with her fast pace. The cobble path makes it hard for me to keep my footing as we rush in unusual direction Cynthia leads us.

"They went this way!"

I look desperately ahead of me. I try to block out the yelling of the men behind us. Cynthia has a tight grip on my hand pulling me through the city. We wind in and out of alleyways and towards The Wall. She isn't leading us to the front gate and I try figure out where we're headed.

Torchlight glows behind us, flooding the allies with light. My back becomes slick with sweat. Whether it's from the running or the fire of adrenaline rushing through me I can't be sure. The light grows brighter, and I know I'm slowing Cynthia down. I try to push harder, determined to make sure we both make it out alive. My effort shows as the light behind turns to a small glimmer once again. We soon find ourselves in the saddens once again. The city is quiet at this hour. A stray cat running across our path is the only soul me meet along our way.