Before you begin I think it is important to say that Elliot is a girl. Elliot can be a girl's name. I hope you enjoy my story :)
~~~
Chapter 1: Train
~E L L I O T~
“Open up!” I lift my head from my pillow and glance towards the door. My sister sits up next to me to stare at it in confusion. I can barely make out the door in our dark hut, but I know where it is by memory. When I glance towards the one window, I can see that it is still dark outside. Someone is furiously banging their fist on the door in the dead of night.
“Open this door now Typos or you will be held accountable.” The way he spits the word Typo– a slang for my people– makes me push myself off the bed. I realize in my dazed state that they must be doing their monthly rounds, although they usually don’t do it in the middle of the night. I can see the wood starting to split as the banging becomes more persistent.
A raid of Correctors come to Norton, the town we live in, every month to take a census and make notes of any pregnancies, deaths, marriages, etc. It only takes a few hours for the Correctors to go to every house to ask how many people live there and any other updates on family affairs. They usually come during the day but who am I to question them?
“Mum.” I whisper, shaking my mothers shoulder. She has always been a heavy sleeper. My little brother sits up beside her to help me wake her. His bright red hair is sticking up in all directions. He sends a worried glance over my shoulder at the door. “Mum.” I shake her shoulder more urgently as the man behind the door begins to shout about the consequences of resistance. I’ve heard them plenty of times. When she finally wakes up she blinks up at me for a moment. Her facial expression changes when she realizes someone is knocking at our door. The man begins to recite our rights as she quickly stands and tightens her robe around her waste. Her blonde hair is thrown into an elastic band before she throws open the door.
A stocky man stands in our threshold with his fist raised to continue his assault to our door. He holds a clip board in his hand and a gun is slung over his shoulder. The sight isn’t as shocking as one would like to believe. He is dressed in the typical Corrector’s uniform– a black t-shirt paired with black jeans, a symbol on their left shoulder signifying their rank. Four white, horizontal lines are embroidered into the fabric of his shirt. This means he is a lieutenant.
There are two other men standing behind him, hidden in the shadows of our unlit porch. They all have guns, which is a bit unnerving but not completely unusual. I send a glance towards my siblings who are cowering in their beds. My twin sister scampers across the hut to sit next to my brother in his and my mother’s shared bed. I give them a small– hopefully reassuring– smile before moving to stand behind my mother. I can see someone’s lights come on across the road. I’m confused to see another group of men standing on our neighbors porch. The Correctors usually come in smaller groups.
“This is house seventeen, correct?” He gets right to the point.
“Correct.” My mother replies. She tightens her robe again.
“May I speak to the man of the household?” The lieutenant says harshly. He stares at my mother and I in disgust. Using the darkness as my shield, I glare at him over my mother’s shoulder.
“There is none.” My mother says quietly, making sure her eyes are cast down– a sign of respect. In assumption that he can’t see me properly, I observe him quietly behind my mother.
The lieutenant sighs in frustration, clicking a pen in his hand and extending the clip board in front of him. “How many Typos reside here?”
“Four.” My mother responds politely.
“Bring everyone outside.” He orders. This is standard protocol, not at all alarming.
All four of us– my mother, Blair, Leo, and I– file through the door to stand on the porch. The hot summer air greets us with a light breeze. We are all bare foot and in our pajamas. I am aware of the lieutenant’s quick glance at my legs that are uncovered. Without air conditioning, I often end up sleeping in only large shirts that used to belong to my father. I’m glad to see that Blair was able to throw on a pair of sweatpants before stepping outside.
“Identification.” He snaps. On impulse, the four of us extend our left arm forward without complaint, left wrist faced up. “Styles.” The lieutenant ticks his head at one of the men standing behind him. The man steps into the light. He is dressed in the same uniform but with only two stripes, meaning, he is a captain. He looks relatively younger than the lieutenant. Unruly brown hair is covered in a hat. He roughly takes my mothers wrist, observing the markings that have been imprinted on her skin since birth.
“4425.” The younger man calls out, and the lieutenant scribbles onto the clip board. He releases my mothers wrist only to immediately take Blair’s. He turns her wrist in his palm to read the numbers. “823.” More scribbling.
When I hear a loud sound, my head whips to the right. I am used to hearing the occasional sound of gun fire when hunting groups hunt in the forest to the west of the village. But this gun shot is not accompanied with a yell of triumph but one of terror which is quickly cut off by another bang. I squint into the darkness to try and see where the noise could have possible come from but the effort is useless. It is to dark.
The captain doesn’t seem at all concerned as he squats to take my seven-year-old brother’s wrist. I look over at my mother who is staring in the direction of the noise with a confused look. I’m sure my face mirrors hers. “1602.” The captain says. Scribbling. Another gun shot.
I flinch when he roughly grabs my wrist. I hope, for his sake, he wasn’t holding my family’s hands this tightly. “and 1930.” The lieutenant quickly jots down my number. My eyes quickly move to the floor when the captain briefly glances up at my face.
“Take them to the square.” He says, turning away and walking down our steps. I panic when the second man steps into the light. He, too, wears a gun over his shoulder but that isn’t what makes me panic. He takes my twin sister’s and my mothers forearms in his hands and begins to drag them off the porch. This isn’t standard protocol.
I want to give her a pat on the back when Blair digs her heels in the ground in protest. She turns to look at me over her shoulder and I glare at the man attempting to tug her forward.
“Move.” The man holding her arm growls. In a flash, he releases her arm and brings his hand up to lash her across the cheek. My jaw drops and I stare at the man with wide eyes. Blair lets out a startled gasp and doesn’t protest when the man continues to drag her forwards.
“Hey!” I exclaim, stepping forward, ready to defend my sister. I am stopped by the green eyed captain when he takes my arm. I try to rip it from his grasp but his fingers dig into my skin. My brother lets out a whimper when the captain takes his arm as well. What is going on?
“Come on.” He says shoving us toward the square. I hear another gun shot, paired with a cry. Panic sets in.
I limp forward, avoiding broken glass and nails in the road. My main concern is my bare footed little brother who is hopping from foot to foot to avoid the broken shards. The captain ignores our unsteady stride as he continues to walk forward. Another gun shot. A scream.
I look up at the sky search of light– the moon perhaps– but there is a new moon and the stars are covered with clouds. Through the darkness, I can see other figures being dragged down the road. Some of them I recognize, others are to difficult to make out in the dark. I hear the whimpers of children and comforting murmurs of adults. There is a sense of worry and panic and the air. I would comfort my brother who is shaking on the other side of this mysterious man if I knew what was going on. Not to mention I’m starting to shake myself.
“What is happening?” I voice my thoughts but the captain continues to march forward without a word.
When we reach the square, which is centered around a large clock tower, I am able to make out the entire town gathered in the darkness. I had never been outside after sunset. Curfew at sundown was strictly enforced here. Norton looked different in the dark.
The edges of the square are lined with soldiers with with their guns aimed at the group. Off to the side, a large bonfire has been lit. The captain releases us to join them once we get close enough. Leo’s hand almost immediately slips into mine. I pull him closer to my side as I scan the crowd for the rest of my family who we seemed to have lost on the way here. I hear another gun shot, this one is closer– maybe a few houses down the road. Leo loops her arms around my waste and clings to me.
“Elliot!” I turn my head when my name is called in the darkness. My eyes narrowing in my struggle to see.
“Elliot.” This time, it is my brother, pointing towards the bell tower. I follow his index into the darkness. I see the figure and quickly recognize it as it approaches. My child hood best friend runs towards me.
“Oliver.” I sigh in relief when he throws an arm over my shoulder and pulls me to him. I rest my cheek his chest.
“Thank god you’re alright.” He says when we pull back from our embrace. His eyes are wide as he examines my face. The terror gripping his features is amplified by the red glow of the bonfire. “They killed the Jacksons.”
“What? Why?” The Jackson had always been a nice family. I recall them lending our family clothes every so often. There were six of them which is large for a family in this town. But despite their size, they had always been very generous. I don’t know why anyone would want to kill them.
I pull Leo even closer to me when I hear another gun shot in the distance. I see one of the soldiers throw something in the fire. Briefly, I think I see a human body go up in smoke but I blame my lack of sleep and panicked imagination. I look away from the fire and up at Oliver who looks into the distance with a haunted look.
“I don’t know.” Oliver says distantly, looking towards the sound of the gunshot.
The square is starting to get louder. Gun shots are heard more frequently. Everyone is confused and afraid. Word of the Jackson’s assassination gets around quickly.
“What is going on?” Someone shouts. The soldiers surrounding us with their guns raised give no reply.
“Where is your mom and Blair?” Oliver murmurs, placing a hand on stop of Leo’s head to comfort him. I hadn’t realized he was crying into my hip until now. I run my fingers through his copper hair to comfort him.
My eyes search frantically through the crowd. Every blonde head of hair grabbing my attention only to fill me with disappointment. Oliver is searching as well, breathing accelerating when my family stays hidden in the dark mass of people.
“What the hell is going on?” A man– a Typo– whom I don’t recognize breaks from the crowd. In the light provided by the bonfire I can see him making his way towards one of the soldiers. The whole town seems to go silent as he angrily stops toward them. Several barrels follow his movements. “Tell us why you have dragged us down here in the middle of the night or so help me God I’ll–“
Gunfire.
The crowd lets out a gasp when his body slumps to the ground. I cover my mouth with my hand when an older women and a younger girl– his family– sprint forward. I recognize the girl from work throwing herself onto her fathers still body.
I turn my head away when blood starts pouring of the hole in his forehead. Leo buries his face further into my leg and continues to cry. Oliver watches on, his eyes glazing over. When two more bullets are fired he finally turns away. The group becomes louder as everyone grows more and more panicked.
“We have to find your family.” He says lowly, taking my hand in his and tugging me foreword. I pry Leo from my leg and murmur words of encouragement. I take his hand and Oliver leads us into the group. I try to ignore the three dead bodies in a heap in my peripheral vision.
“Blair!” He calls out first, looking around and listening for any signs of acknowledgment. It is hard to hear over the everyone’s frantic chatter.
“Mum!” My voice cracks and I stand on my toes hoping to see over everyone’s heads. I tap several blondes on the shoulder in my haste to find them.
“Elliot!” Oliver and I freeze when we hear my sisters voice calling out from within the mass of people. Frustration commanders my features when I am unable to find her in the crowd. “Elliot!” Someone calls my name again. My mother.
“I see them.” Oliver murmurs, suddenly dragging me further into the crowd. I look back at Leo. Shadows cast over his eyes but I can see the damp skin of former tears. I pull him closer.
“Elliot.” Arms are thrown around me. I almost cry in relief when I recognize my twin’s pajama pants. My mother looks teary eyed when Leo runs to hug her legs. I break away from my sister to embrace her.
“Do you know what is happening?” She asks me when I pull away.
“No one does.” I tell her.
Suddenly, one of the soldiers fires several rounds of bullets. “Quiet Typos!” He commands bitterly. The town goes silent immediately; the fallen bodies in the corner of the clearing unforgotten. My mother takes my hand.
A bulky man stands in front of the crowd, several armed men standing behind him with their weapons raised. His shoulder is decorated with a circle with five lines slashing through it. He is a commander.
“Listen up! I will be calling out your identifications! When you hear your number please say ‘I.’ If you do not say I and we find out later on, it will not be good for you.” His eyes glint in the light. “You will be boarded onto cattle cars in groups of fifty. Is everyone aware of the consequences of a Typo resisting a Corrector?” No one answers him. “Good. When I call your name say ‘I’.” He takes a clip board from a man behind him.
“What is happening?” A voice shouts from in the back of the group.
A gun shot is fired. The commander begins to read numbers. Timid ‘I’s come from the group. I recognize some of the numbers that have no response. A shiver goes down my spine.
Oliver grasps my other hand when his number is called. I can see Blair holding his other hand. Leo clings to my mothers leg. We stand there nervously, holding on to each other.
Oliver has always been close to our family. His mum died when he was young and his father was recruited when he was sixteen. Not allowed to move into another hut, he has been living by himself ever since. But my mother was sympathetic and made sure he was well taken care of. As a result, he has been by my side ever since. We may as well share blood.
“1930!”
“I!” I shout confidently, giving Oliver’s hand a squeeze. When my brother’s identification is called my mother, Blair, Oliver and I all shout; knowing Leo wasn’t going to respond. The commander looks up suspiciously for a brief moment and I hold my breath. He moves on and I breathe.
We are told to walk in a single file line towards the train tracks. The soldiers walk along side with their guns trained on us. My brother whimpers when the barrel of the gun comes dangerously close to his face. I almost lunge at the soldier when he smiles smugly at the small boys reaction. Blair starts to cry. No one comforts her.
When we reach the train tracks I can barely make out the long line of cattle cars. The engine at the front of the long train still hums, smoke billowing from its chimney. The gunman lead us towards the first cattle car.
“They expect fifty of us to fit in that?” I hear someone murmur from behind me.
“They expect us to ride us to ride in that at all?” Another retorts.
“Start boarding the train Typos!” The commander yells. “Resistance will be lethal!”
My family and I are one of the first to board the train. We squeeze are way into a corner, near a window. The inside smells like rotting wood and stale bread. A soldier standing my the door of the car counts us as we climb in.
As the cattle car starts to become crowded, my back pushed against the wall. I can hear that the soldier has barely reached thirty. Oliver is squished into my side, my brother caught between us. My mother and my sister’s backs are pressed against us.
“How are fifty of us going to fit in there?” Someone voices my thoughts from outside the car. Screams erupt when a gun shot goes off. Someone is crying.
When fifty people are finally in the car, I can barely breathe and I’m glad I chose a spot near a window. Everyone has very little room, our shoulders brush every time we move. The soldier tells the people to stop boarding our car and to start boarding the second.
“Typos!” The commander yells. He stands in the threshold of the car. “There are fifty of you in this car! If any of you escape you will all be shot on the spot!” Several gasps goes through the crowded cattle car. My brother buries his face in my shirt. The commander speaks over us. “Do not try anything foolish at the cost of others!” With that, the train door is pulled closed.
“I’m being squished.” Leo whines from in between Oliver and I.
Oliver ruffles the hair on top of Leo’s head. “We all are buddy. I’m sure we won’t be in here for too long.”
As it turns out, Oliver was wrong. The train started to move two hours later and after being on the tracks for another two hours the train was still going. The sun has just begun to peek over the horizon, the sky fading into a peachy red. I silently watch the landscape pass by and listen to the rhythmic clicking of the train on the tracks.
Everyone in the small cart is exhausted. I’m almost sure the women next to me has fallen asleep standing up. Several people have collapsed, leaving less room for all of us to stand with people sprawled out on the floor. Children and adults alike are whining about thirst, hunger, and pain in their feet. My knees feel as if they are about to buckle and if it weren’t for Oliver and the wall I’m sure I would've toppled to the floor.
I realize how lucky I am to be near a window. People standing near the center complain about lack of oxygen. With the abundance of people, the cart quickly fill with carbon dioxide. That, combined with exhaustion and dehydration is the reason most people have fallen.
“Where are they taking us?” Blair asks– I suppose rhetorically.
“No one knows.” Oliver says to himself. I know she doesn’t hear him. She stuck her head out the window about an hour ago, puking into the wind while my mother rubbed her back. No one had said anything to her then, and no one responds to her now.
“I’m sure we will be fine.” I say, louder so she can hear.
No one says anything.
Watching the trees pass by for what I estimated to be at least six hours finally caught up to me with motion sickness. Oliver told me to sit down about an hour ago when I told him I began to feel dizzy. When people started to complain that there was’t enough room for me to sit, he stood over me.
“Leo!” I hadn’t realized I had fallen asleep until I was suddenly startled by the sound of my mother’s panicked voice. My eyes fly open only to be met with Oliver’s butt in front of my face. I rub my eyes to rid my vision of smog before pushing him aside. When the obstacle is removed I’m greeted with the sight of another fallen Typo.
Leo’s small body is sprawled out on the floor. His face is pale and sweaty, his red hair still strewn every which way. My body jump starts at the sight of my mother wailing over his unconscious body, wildly feeling his flushed cheeks and damp forehead.
“Leo?” I launch myself away from the wall to join my mother, frantically pressing the back of my hand to his cheek as if checking his temperature would help at all. His face is warm but he doesn’t have a fever. I hear my sister asking what is going on behind me. Out of the corner of my glazed eyes, I see Oliver quietly hush her and tuck her shoulders under his arm.
My mother is crying loudly, and I gently push her hands away when she begins to shake his little shoulders. Her protests become louder when Oliver pulls her back. I hear him softly assuring her that I know what I’m doing while she whimpers into his neck.
The people surrounding us kindly squeeze together to make barely two feet of room. I smile up that them, silently thanking them for their hopefully brief sacrifice. I gently drag Leo’s body towards me so that his head isn’t directly under someone’s feet.
I had been studying at the clinic in Norton for a couple months before now. I run through my training in my head as I gently brush his ginger hair from his forehead. Luna’s first words when any patient is brought in shoots through me.
Don’t panic. Stay calm.
I try to remember this as I press two fingers against my little brother’s neck. I shift my hand along his jugular, searching for a pulse. My own heart picks up when I don’t find one.
Don’t panic. Stay calm. Don’t panic. Stay calm.
I repeat this like a mantra as I press my ear against his chest. I let out a breath when his breast rises and falls beneath my temple and the heavy thump of his heart resonates in my ear. I realize I must have imagined him pulseless in my distraught state.
“I think he’s just dehydrated.” I say to know one in particular. Oliver sighs in relief.
I stand to my feet, unwilling to move away from him knowing the crowd will soon close in again. Oliver seem to have the same concern, for he steps forward and scoops the unconscious boy into his arms. As soon as Leo’s body is lifted from the floor, people are quick to fill the unoccupied space. Oliver leans up against the wall, looking absolutely exhausted while holding the little boy in his arms.
“Sit down. I’ll stand over you.” I tell him. He plops down without protest and I place my feet on either side of his legs so that I’m looming over him. I brush my finger tips over Leo’s head.
“Hang in there buddy.”
I listen to the sound of the wheels clicking on the train tracks and try not to think about where we might be going and how long it might take to get there.
Blake Riley♥︎