Typo

Chapter 6: Break

Chapter 6: Break

-E L L I O T-

Two hundred Typos line the top of the hill. We all share the same standard appearances. Dirty, sweaty, half dressed in raggedy pajamas, feet dragging on the ground, exhaustion weighing on our slumped shoulders, labored breathing, consistent burning on the backs of our thighs. Collectively we stand in shock, horror, and despair. Staring down at our foretold final destination.

All two hundred eyes survey the pit below. Looking at Knox with expressions that can't be pinned with one particular emotion. A strange feeling trails over my skin, looking down at the camp from this angle in the early afternoon light. Goosebumps cover my legs and arms, my fingers tingle and my throat dries. Despite the raging summer heat, I struggle to suppress a shiver. How does someone describe the feeling one gets when they are staring down at their prescribed grave?

Knox is disturbingly organized. Cinderblock buildings are lined up in symmetrical rows at the pit of the valley. Some of the buildings are larger or smaller; but for the most part, they are all identical. One particularly large building is in the center of the camp. The whole ordeal is surrounded by a tall, intimidating looking fence topped off with barbed wire.

"We are going to die here." I hear someone whisper.

I'm thankful the Correctors don't make us run the rest of the way. We have time to slowly digest the sight in front of us without having to worry about falling. We sluggishly clamber down the hill and you can almost hear the collective turning of gears in everyone's heads. The cars roll at a snail pace behind us. But, for once, my attention has been stolen from the fascinating vehicles. More importantly, I am standing in front of my downfall.

A forest looming just beyond the camp sparks my interest. Most importantly what I can hear beyond them. The dense tree line creates a small barrier for what seems to be a distant echo. But I recognize it instantly. The sound of gushing water. The ocean.

I'm still convinced that this must be a dream. I'll wake up in Norton any minute now and tell Oliver all about this crazy dream I've had. We'll dig up some newspapers from five years ago about the protests in the city and he'll taunt me as he reads them.

As we climb down the hill and grow nearer to the camp, you can hear a quiet hum coming from the fence. The sound is both soothing and alarming. It must be electric. I see no need for a fence to be this large and electric. Even if the electricity was somehow cut off, no one would be stupid enough to try and climb over it. I have to crane my neck to see the dangerous barbed wire curling around the top. Another reason not to try and climb the fence. The Correctors stop us when we are a couple yards from it. The electric hum is louder than ever now that we are standing right in front of it. Right in front of Knox. Staring death straight in the eyes.

One of the Correctors approaches the fence and my theory is confirmed when some of the other soldiers tell him to be careful. "That thing will zap you to the moon." One of them shouts. The Corrector apprehensively punches a number into a key pad and the gate screeches loudly as it opens on its own. Armed Correctors stand on either side of the open gates as we walk through them.

"Welcome to hell." The cadet whispers with a chuckle as I walk past him.

I stare at him- his wicked smile, gleaming eyes. Malice grips his features. Even with the way he stands with his arms crossed over one another, one foot placed flat on the ground while the other is propped casually behind it. It seems almost impossible- immoral, that someone with that much evil intension would ever be allowed to hold a gun. But yet, a gun is snug in a holster at his belt, ready to be claimed by his hand at anytime.

The gates slam closed behind us and the lock loudly clicks into place. The sound echoes eerily through the uniform buildings.The car's engines are shut off. Knox is deadly silent. We seem to be the only one's here. But it looks too large to only be for us. Ironically, the death camp looks like a ghost town.Where is everyone else?