Claire studied the wanted poster carefully. The surveillance photo was grainy and her face had been shadowed, but the composite was a little too accurate. She knew that it was only a matter of time before someone recognized her, and then she'd be done for.
She sighed. The bitter rage that had fueled her for so long was giving way to hopelessness and despair. It had been five years since her lover had been taken. She hadn't even known that Jacob was helping the rebels, but that hadn't stopped the police from taking her in for intense questioning after his arrest.
She stroked the scars on her cheek. The "questioning" had left her body covered with such reminders. The facial scarring marked her as an outcast; someone who had once fallen under suspicion and could therefore never be trusted. She'd been a kindergarten teacher before, but now she was forced to exist on the outskirts of society, begging and stealing and sleeping in the old subway tunnels with the rest of the exiles.
Her rage had first focused on Jacob for making her complicit in his crimes simply for loving him. She'd always been so careful to follow the law to the letter. She'd been taught to respect the laws and the government that passed them, and she'd passed the same lessons to her students as well. The government, after all, had kept them safe from the toxic water that flooded three quarters of the city and protected them from the mutants that lived beyond the sea wall.
She'd never questioned the benevolence of her government until she'd been on the recieving end of its cruelty; just as she'd never doubted her place in society until everyone she knew turned away from her. As her eyes opened, her rage turned to the government.
Citizens of Sanctuary City lived under constant surveillance. Laws prohibited anti-goverment speech or protest. Marriage and reproduction required expensive permits. Criminals were dealt with harshly, with public executions being commonplace for thieves, murderers and rapists. Political dissidents like Jacob were taken into custody and never heard from again.
Claire could hardly believe she'd ever blindly followed her leaders and believed them good. All around her, normal, honest people went about their day to day lives believing that they were safe and secure thanks to their government. She'd been one of them just five, short years ago.
The surveillance photo on the poster was taken when she'd defaced a billboard filled with propaganda. It was a stupid guesture; her vandalism was completely erased in just a few hours, and now she was facing certain death when they caught her. She had no doubt that she would be caught, and soon. She'd tried to make a difference, to open the eyes of everyone that she could, but it was too little. Her death would be meaningless and painful, and no one would even remember that she had lived at all.
She drifted aimlessly through the city as night fell. The good, law-abiding citizens hurried home before curfew, but she had no home to go to. She could scurry
back to the subway tunnels like a rat, but hopelessness weighed heavily on her, so she continued walking.
Signs warned citizens away from the outer edge of the city, creating a half-mile wide ring of dead zone between the city's populace and the sea wall that kept the contaminated water at bay. She'd only ever seen photographs of the sea wall and the drowned city beyond. It had always seemed hauntingly beautiful to her, and she decided she might as well see it for herself before she died.
She made her way through the no-man's land at the edge of the city like a shadow. The buildings here bore the scars of the war and the unmistakeable signs of abandonment. No lights shone from the broken windows, and plant life was slowly filling in the cracks and crevices. Rats and stray cats and dogs roamed freely, fighting for scraps of food.
As she neared the sea wall, Claire became nervous. The waters on the other side of the wall were said to be extremely corrosive and dangerous to touch, breathe, or drink. What do I have to lose, anyway? She asked herself. I might as well throw myself off the sea wall as face a death squad. She shuddered as she remembered the torture she'd faced before. Suicide seemed like a better option than facing that again. She felt an odd sense of peace as she made up her mind. A single tear slipped down her cheek as she climbed the steps to the top of the wall.
Once she reached the top, she stopped to take in the sight before her. Stars shone above her in a seemingly endless expanse. The lights and tall buildings of the city had always blocked her view of them before. She gasped in awe at the silent sillhouettes of the empty buildings rising from the waters below against the stunning backdrop of glittering galaxies.
She wept openly. The sight before her was so serene and lovely, and she had come here to die. She hadn't admitted her intentions to herself until she reached the wall, but she'd known her plans in her heart from the moment she saw the poster. She was glad that the last thing she saw would be the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen.
She gazed skyward as she climbed onto the outer barrier. The god she'd been raised to believe in had abandoned her five years earlier, but here she felt the presence of something much more real and powerful. She said a silent prayer for peace to this newfound god as she stepped over the edge.
****
Claire woke to bright sunlight and the sound of splashing water. She sat up quickly and became dizzy. She leaned forward and vomited salty water onto unfamiliar, moldy carpet.
At the sound of her retching, she heard voices raised in the hallway. A short, heavily tattooed man entered the room. He carried a tray of food and water towards her. Claire pushed herself back against the wall.
"Who are you?" She asked.
The strange man looked at her with pity in his eyes. "I'm no one, just like you."
The softness of his voice surprised her. As he came closer to place the tray in front of her, she noticed that the tattoos were an attempt to hide extensive scarring. Her hand reflexively reached to touch her own scars.
"Eat," he said. "Solomon will see you soon." With that, he left.
Claire nibbled on a piece of bread topped with grilled fish. The bread was stale, but the fish was the best she'd ever tasted. As her appetite flared, she ate the food quickly and washed it down with a glass of water that tasted slightly salty.
With her hunger sated, she stood slowly, still fighting dizziness. She wobbled around the room, noting its contents. She was in a large office space, complete with cubicles for each employee that had once worked here. The wood and electronics were all missing; scavenged, she guessed. The far wall was made of large sheets of glass, through which she saw the drowned city up close for the first time.
Abandoned skyscrapers rose from rippling, greenish water. Glass facades glittered in the sun while the masonry grew moss. Much of the glass was intact, which surprised her. As she watched, seagulls flew past the window, chattering at each other.
At the sound of the door, she turned. A young, blonde man had entered the room. Though he bore the same scars as the other man, he made no attempt to hide them. They stood out white against his sun-bronzed skin, somehow making him even more handsome.
"So you're the one that's been defacing propaganda," his eyes scanned her and seemed to find her lacking. "What did you think that would accomplish?"
She felt nervous beneath his steady glare. "I just- I mean I didn't. Think, that is. I didn't think," she blushed. He pursed his lips as he stared at her. She composed herself. "I was angry, but I had no other way to express it."
"At least you're honest," he said. He walked to the window and stared out.
"Who are you?" Claire asked.
"I am no one and everyone." He clasped his hands behind his back. "They call me Solomon."
"I am Claire Fields," she said.
He scoffed. "Are you, really?" He turned to face her again. "Tell me about Claire Fields."
She met his eyes and straightemed her spine. "What do you want to know?"
"What is Ms. Fields' profession?"
The way he said her name reminded her of her students. All at once, she understood the point he was trying to make. She turned to the window and leaned her head ahainst the glass. "Ms. Fields was a kindergarten teacher."
He stood and watched her as she silently said goodbye to the person she had been. It was oddly liberating to let her go. She turned to face him again, feeling lighter. "Claire Fields died five years ago."
"Five years is impressive. Few survive in the city for more than a few weeks or months after the questioning." He looked at her with new interest. "You must be very strong and resourceful."
She laughed. "I just tried to kill myself, and you call me strong?"
"Suicide is not a sign of weakness."
She shook her head and scoffed. She'd been taught all her life that suicide was the ultimate sign of weakness and the one unforgiveable sin.
He smiled at her. "You don't believe me? The priests and teachers have taught you that strength is working endlessly at your assigned profession without question, keeping your head down, and believing that your obedience will be rewarded in the next life." He faced the window with a look of disgust. "By that measure, humans are weaker than cattle."
She looked down at her hands. His words rang true, but it was hard for her to shake the beliefs she'd always held. She sighed.
He placed a calloused hand on her shoulder and said nothing at all.
She decided to leave the deeper philosophical questions for another time. She had practical concerns. "Where am I and how did I get here?"
"You jumped from the wall about half a mile in that direction." He guestured out the window to the right. "We patrol the wall at night and saw you jump. We will take you back to the drowned city with us." He guestured to the left.
"What is the drowned city?"
"Your new home."
****
To be continued.....