I once had a beautiful name, one that spoke of green grass and clean air. I have since forgotten the word that was once my name. It was lost all of the days and nights I spent without my first name on my lips. I was taken from my homeland when I was around seven or eight, by men with skin whiter than quartz stone. I remember going to play alone, not wanting to do the chores my mother had assigned me. One of the things I remember from my home was that there wasn't a lot of boys there. I had seen them before, but they never stayed long.
With the spongey ground underfoot, I chased a butterfly relentlessly, straying farther and father from the watchful eyes of my many mothers. I was careless then, like a young bird flying to close to a hungry cat. The insect I was chasing flew higher and higher, and just out of my grasp.
Then, I heard a deep rumble, like that of an angry animal. My eyes tore away from the butterfly and squinted past the borders of my homeland. I saw a pack of small black dots coming in my direction, clouds of dry desert dust billowing up from around them. I watched them approach for far longer than I should have, fascinated by the sheer size of the vehicles that had slowly begun to take on recognizable shapes. As they approached further, I heard the sound of electric guitar, which was a song we only heard when Immortan Joe's fleet came along. My gut twisted with a sudden pang of dread, something told me that these men were not coming here in peace. I whirled around and darted back to the nearest mother, my wide green eyes full of fear, "There are lots of cars coming here!" I told her, tugging on the sleeve of her shirt frantically.
The mother's face tightened with fear as her gaze flicked up to what I was referring to, "Go back to your shelter, I will warn the others," she instructed me firmly, "and whatever you do, do not come out of the shelter, no matter what." Her voice was grave, and stern, enough so to make me nod in response and run back to my home as quickly as possible. I huddled in the corner of the small refuge that was my home, listening to the other children hide and the older mothers take out their weapons. I was scared, but I trusted that the mothers would keep us safe, they were strong.
The rumble grew louder, the yells of men and the steady chug chug chug of the guitar vibrating through the earth.
They weren't ready for what happened next.
Fire, screaming, the roar of engines. Those were the sounds that filled the air. I felt like I couldn't move, like the noise had me locked in place. I could hear the crackle of fire, and I could see the yellow-orange light explode from everywhere around my shelter. "...Do not come out of that shelter, no matter what." I kept repeating those words in my head in order to keep myself from fleeing. Then, I started hearing pained cries of a mother, followed shortly by a victorious shout of a man. So many screams, so much loss. What was happening out there? Where the mothers being captured, Killed, Or worse? My mind spun with fear and possibilities, making my heart pound in my chest.
Then, after what seemed like an eternity of chaos, a group of painted and scarred men entered my shelter. I felt like a rabbit caught in a snare, panic welling up in my throat and squeezing tight. The men at the front all had eyes that were wild with adrenaline, and their snowy bodies were splattered with blood. I cowered in the corner, terrified and knowing I had nowhere to hide from them, they had me cornered. I didn't even dare to breath.
There was an old man at the center of the wolf-like soldiers. He had long white hair, and a mask of human teeth and tubes. He had black paint around his eyes like the other men, but his made him look sinister. The boys surrounding him looked at him with adoration, like a god. The evil man's eyes settled upon me, and his dark gaze lit up with interest. I froze, my back pressed up against the far wall of my shelter. I could see the malicious satisfaction the gleam of his eyes. He lifted a gloved finger and jabbed it in my direction, making my blood run cold.
"Take that one, and put it with the others." the evil man's voice barked, it sounded oddly electronic and wheezy.
One man turned to me, and pounced with lightening speed. I yelped, trying to scramble out of the way, but he clamped his hand around my ankle and yanked me back. He snatched me up with ease despite my struggling. I howled with fury, fear, and surprise, thrashing with as much force as I could muster. The man grunted with annoyance, shifting me so I was over his shoulder. I clawed at his skin, kicking out with my legs frantically. The man didn't react, and his arms stayed locked around me, like a cage. I shrieked for my mother, even though she was most likely dead. I was lugged outside, my muscles burning with protest as I struggled.
I lapsed into silence for a few moments as my eyes swept around my homeland.
The shelters around mine where now towering columns of flame. The fire licked up toward the sky, as if trying to touch the stars. Bodies littered the ground, some burned, some covered in horrible gashes, and others who still writhed in agony. I felt as if my voice had been robbed of me. All I could do was stare in horror as I passed the barren land that was once my home. This all has to be a bad dream, it can't possibly be real. I couldn't breath, and thick smoke and ash burned my eyes.
Then I finally let out a sound. It was a horrible groan, as if my soul was being ripped from my body. My chest ached almost like my heart wasn't there anymore, and it never would be again. I slumped against the man holding me captive, sobbing and whimpering out incoherent words. It has to be a bad dream.
The man was taking me to a large vehicle that looked as if it was a smashed together version of many different cars. There was a large trailer attached to the back, like an gigantic black cocoon. The man holding me climbed up the side of the trailer like a squirrel scales a tree, then opened a hatch at the top. As soon as he opened it, I heard the cries of women, sounding hopeless and in pain. The man tossed me inside like I was nothing but an inanimate object. I plummeted to the floor and I landed hard with a thud. The wind knocked out of me, I laid there gasping for air. Women swarmed me, breathlessly asking if I was alright. I stared up at them, some were part of the many mothers, others I did not recognize, all where beautiful. I noticed this was the same about all of them, their skin was flawless besides the dirt and dried blood. None where younger than seven like me or older than around twenty five. None looked sick or undesirable. My young and innocent mind failed to understand why we were all here, alive.
I didn't cry anymore, nor did I make a single sound for days. I just laid curled up against the wall, my head down. We traveled for what seemed like months. I was never sure when was day and when was night, it was always dark in the trailer. We were fed small portions of food and even smaller amounts of water. Girls died left and right, of sickness, hunger, or infection. Their bodies stayed in the trailer for far longer than they should have, so much that I eventually got used to the stink of rotting flesh. I wondered, throughout that time, what was the point of capturing us and taking us with them if they were just going to let us all die here? I, too, had gotten sick along with a majority of the women on board. I got horrible night fevers, ones that covered my body in sweat and made me shiver in the terrible hot and humid air. I also coughed constantly, I guessed it was due to the dusty, rancid air around us, much different than that of my homeland. I never thought that this was the way I would go, curled up on the floor of a disgusting trailer.
There were a handful of girls who were not sick. I did not know where most of them had come from, but they were strong and healthy, unlike the rest of us. They took care of the rest of us the best they could, with the little to no resources they had. There was a tall, thin girl with tan skin, blonde hair, and full lips. She couldn't have been more than eleven, and she was already stunningly beautiful. There was a girl my age with hair the color of fire, she was very pretty and gentle, and always let me use her shawl when I was cold at night. There was a girl with jet black hair, who was around 6. her face was young and innocent, and she usually spent her days and nights crying for her lost mother. There was another girl with skin much darker than the rest of us, her hair cut short and her face distant. Another girl had pale skin and hair, the color of the soldier boys' skin, she was always lost in her own world, and didn't speak much. The last girl was older than the rest of the healthy ones, maybe thirteen or fourteen. She had come from my homeland. She had lost her arm in the battle. She sat against the rocking wall of the trailer most days, her bloody stump of an arm wrapped in ripped bits of cloth from her clothes. She stopped whimpering in agony on the first day. She obviously didn't want to seem vulnerable. Her hair was dark, and her face was full of the same wisdom and bravery that the many mothers had.
Then one day, the trailer came to a stop. All of the girls, sick and healthy, perked up.
A hatch opened at the side of the trailer, one that I hadn't known was there. I saw another painted man there, his face eager to please his leader.
"Time to come meet your new master,"
~~
We stood in a line, trembling, sweaty, and dirty. I noticed some of the girls were having a hard time staying up right, they kept swaying and stumbling sideways. Some didn't even get up after they were dragged out of the trailer. We were standing outside of a huge city-like place, with an even larger building perched atop a cliff near the center. I was transfixed with the cities almost unsettling beauty when I heard footsteps coming towards us. Then, I saw him. The Evil Man. Since the attack I learned that this man's name was Immortan Joe I'd heard of him many times, but I'd never seen him before his fleet ascended down onto my homeland.
He paced up and down the line of women, his cold eyes raking our bodies. His rattling breath was the only sound that filled the hot air, along with the low rumble of subdued engines.
Immortan Joe would sometimes point to one of the sicker-looking girls, and one of the painted men would drag them away and out of sight. My heart thudded in my chest with fear, knowing exactly what was going to happen to them. They would be killed for not being able to survive the conditions. I sat up straighter, trying to look more healthy. I was glad that I wasn't running a fever right now, or coughing uncontrollably, I could pass as a healthy girl. Immortan's eyes fell upon me, and I tried to slow my racing heart. I looked down at the ground, awaiting my fate with bated breath. He didn't point to me. I sighed with relief, but felt a wave of guilt hit me. Most of the other girls would not share my luck.
It was another twenty minutes until he was finished "disposing" of the girls he did not want. It was just me, the one-armed girl, and the group of healthy girls I had mentioned earlier. Then, with a wave of Immortan's hand, we were all forced back into the trailer.
What was happening? What did he want with us? I curled back up into a corner of the trailer, far away from the last few girls.
I slept for the rest of the way, wanting to be awake and aware when we got to our destination. It only took a few hours when I began to hear the countless voices outside of the trailer. Then, with a sudden lurch, the vehicle was hoisted up into a platform. We rose further and further into the air. I prayed that whatever was awaiting us, that we could get through it.