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?
"Listen up!" The lieutenant with the angry looking sunburn shouts. "You, Typos," He literally spits, saliva flying past his lips. There is no reason for him to be yelling. We can all hear him just fine. "are going to line up in a single file line outside of this building." He gestures to a smaller building to his left. "You will do so quickly and silently. You will enter the building one at a time per our request. You will do so without question. If you do not act accordingly," He smiles. How can he smile? "there will be consequences."
And like dogs, we follow his commands. Our reward is our lives. Though this reward is only temporary.
The first Typo to line up outside the second mystery building of the day is a young boy. Probably too naive to fear. One of the blessings and curses of blissful ignorance. His family files directly behind him. In a flash I'm in the back of an extensive line with Oliver in front and Leo and the rest of my family behind me. There are thirty or so people behind my mother and about sixty people in front of Oliver. This can't be the two hundred we started with. Where did everyone else go?
Dead. My mind replies.
We stand still and silent. I shallow my breathing because the silence amplifies the quietest of sounds. The Correctors have no problem making us wait in the relentless early afternoon heat as they discuss quietly under the shade of an awning. The cadet, who seems to have no interest of what they are talking about, menacingly- teasingly, paces the line. He fake lunges every few minutes to make the Typos in close proximity flinch. He tilts his head back as he laughs before continuing his cruel patrol.
"Zayn." The reoccurring green eyed Captain captures the pesky cadet's attention as he exits one of the cars. He shakes his head at the cadet who is "jokingly" aiming a gun at someone's feet. "Stop it." His voice laced in exasperation.
"Dude." The Captain glares. "Don't be so up tight. I'm just having some fun." Despite his words of defiance, the cadet- "Zayn" carelessly places his gun back in his holster.
Watching their interaction, it is obvious that Zayn doesn't respect the Captain in any means. The much higher ranking seeming to have no affect on his attitude. The way he rolls his eyes at the order or the way he punches the Captain playfully on the arm when he approaches him. It is also obvious that the Captain doesn't appreciate the fact that the cadet has no respect for his rankings. The way his head is tilted upwards and the stiffening of his shoulders when Zayn refers to him as "dude."
"You shouldn't be 'having fun' with a weapon. Guns are not toys." The Captain rasps firmly. His tone reminds me of one you would use with a toddler who has played with scissors for the first time.
"Harry. You need to chill." Zayn grins when the Captain- Harry tenses. "I know how to use a gun, alright?" The Captain shakes his head and the cadet scampers off to continue his ridiculous pacing.
Harry doesn't seem to fit the soldiers stature. The name is light and kind while the man standing here seems quite the opposite. A wall of authority blankets his green eyes and his jaw is set into a definitive line. The black uniform and the gun slung over his shoulder adding to the already intense persona that comes with being a higher ranking Corrector.
As if sensing my internal thoughts, I come out of quiet scrutiny to find he is staring straight at me. His eyes are startling at first, viridian irises unwavering when they catch with my own. The intensity of his gaze, once again, gives me the impression that he must be staring at something behind me; or perhaps, at nothing. But when I bite my lip he mimics the act, bringing his lower lip between his teeth. I narrow my eyes and straighten my lips. He slyly smirks as if he's realized I've caught on, but he doesn't look away. I break my gaze away from the shocking green to look up and down the line and at Zayn, (who is talking to an older Typo with a teasing smile on his face). Nobody seems to notice the Captain and I's silent interaction. If you can even call it that. My eyes shift the Captain once again.
Harry mirrors my expression, narrowing his eyes and pursing his lips. But there is a slight tilt upwards at the ends of his mouth and a humorous glint to his eye. He's making fun of me.
I roll my eyes. Disgusted by this little game and no longer willing to play. Harry doesn't seem so willing to forfeit. He rolls his own eyes, grinning when I glare at him.
He seems to take on the light and kind name, Harry, when he playfully sticks his tongue out at me. His tongue quickly retreats back into his mouth and he looks at me with a mock stony expression. It's shocking to be interacting with a Corrector this way. I've never seen a Corrector, especially with his rankings, act this way.
In a moment of weakness, falling under the illusion of a Corrector of a different kind. I give into his playful expression and childish game. My tongue quickly dashes out and back in. There is a break in his mockery of a serious face and he quietly laughs. The first real smile since I got on the train graces my lips.
"Captain Styles!" And just like that, his playful demeanor disappears. His body goes rigid and his head snaps to right. He is no longer smiling. "We want you inside!" One of the soldiers tells him.
Harry walks towards the soldier. He doesn't give me a second glance. "Doesn't the lieutenant want to do that himself?" He asks.
"The lieutenant has some other business to take care of. He wants you to do it." The soldier hands Harry a clip board. Harry gives the lower ranking soldier a stiff solute before disappearing into the building we have been lined up in front of. Our little game is left forgotten.
At the lieutenant's command the process begins. One at a time, Typos go into the building. A Typo goes in and about five minutes another Typo is shoved through the heavy door. Zayn is in charge of letting people in the building. He stands on one side of the door way with a gun, opening the door whenever he is prompted.We stand in silence and in anticipation. Our nerves adding to the sweat beading on our foreheads from the relentless sun.
I find a false sense of security to know the Captain is inside the mysterious building. He seems less hostile then the rest of the Correctors here. But I try not to get my hopes up. Every other time I've expected something it has turned out to be worst case scenario. "Only a little while longer" on the train turned into several hours. "Just a little bit of running" turned into twenty miles. "Finally some rest" turned out to be only the half way point. I would be lying if I didn't say I have hopes of what could possibly be inside. But I try to suppress my silly fantasies. My stomach already feels shifty about the water we drank that was contaminated by who knows what. Food would be ideal. But, with my luck, there will be no such miracle.
Standing in line, time seems to stretch. I find that, oddly enough, I prefer running to standing still. While I was running for my life that is all my mind could grasp at the moment. One step in front of another or you cease to exist. But now that I am standing still I have nothing else to do but twiddle my thumbs and allow my mind to race. A racing mind in an anxiety filled situation creates day dreams of food, water, and homesickness.
The sun is shining directly into everyone's eyes. Zayn mocks the fact that we are all squinting and rubbing our eyes; dangling his sun glasses in the air. Oliver makes a quiet comment with quite a few curse words. But with a gentle nudge from me, Oliver restrains himself.
Finally my family and I reach the front of the line. Oliver will go first, then me, Leo, Blair, and finally my mother. The only good thing about being closer to the building is that the awning provides a little relief from the overbearing sun. Oliver stands in front of the heavy looking black door. I don't think I've ever seen him so nervous in my life. He keeps looking over his shoulder and me and my family and messing with the dirt under his feet. His hands fidget with the elastics of his pajama pants. Zayn isn't really helping at all, teasing him about his sweaty palms and shaky legs.
When Zayn opens the door, Oliver seems to panic. He backs up suddenly and his back collides with my head. Zayn grips his shoulder and tries to shove him into the building. Oliver grunts as he resists. He slips out of Zayn's hold and whips around to press a swift kiss to my forehead. "Be safe." He murmurs, ignoring Zayn's commands and threats. Oliver gives me and my family a small and anxious nod which is returned with a quiet wish for luck from my sister. Oliver swallows before stepping through the door. Zayn quickly shuts the door behind him, nicking one of Oliver's ankles in the process. I get a small glimpse of what is inside but not enough to determine what awaits.
I stare at the door when it closes. And as if on cue Zayn begins to taunt me about what lies ahead. I block him out, only hearing key words that my brain decides are important enough to torture me with. Home is one of them. Clips of Norton flash through my brain. I'm sterilizing utensils at the clinic. I'm eating dinner in the kitchen. I'm running around in the woods with Oliver. Home sickness strikes somewhere deep within me. Although, I don't know if I can call it that because I know I won't be going back. I'll never see my home again.
"Elliot?" Leo quietly pulls me from my dark thoughts by tugging on the end of my shirt. I look down at him and he looks up at me with wide, red rimmed eyes. The heartbroken look on his face grips my heart and becomes permanently etched in my memory.
"Oh Leo..." I croon, placing my hand on his head and running my fingers through his ginger hair. His lip trembles slightly and his eyes glaze over. I bring him closer when a tear leaks from his eye, pressing his cheek to my hip. He raps his arms around my thighs, my over sized t-shirt a barrier between his lanky arms and my sweaty skin. He desperately clings to my legs.
The weight that has been thrust onto his little shoulders is harrowing to think about. I can't decide which is worse; for him to know what is going on or for him to be heartbreakingly oblivious. I tell myself that he doesn't understand the magnitude of the situation. Simply because I can't bear the think that my little brother could be thinking about the fact that we may never go home again. Or the fact that the "eventually" that is the end of his life would come a lot sooner than expected.
"Elli what is happening?" He whispers, his eyes flicking up to Zayn, who-for once- isn't saying anything. His witty remarks seem stumped by Leo and I's exchange. But it could be because he got bored of it.
"We'll be okay Leo. Don't worry." I tell him, avoiding his question. I swoop down to kiss the top of his head but he continues to whimper into my stomach.
After five agonizing minutes of Leo crying into my side, Zayn finally opens the door and gestures for me to walk through. Zayn doesn't look as smug as he did a few minutes ago. If I didn't know any better I would say that the expression on his face is somewhat remorseful. But then again, I know better. I'm probably mistaking regret with boredom.
I struggle to pry Leo's arms from around me. "Elli don't go!" He wails, clutching my shirt. "Elli I'm scared." He whimpers. "Elli!" Blair loops an arm around his tiny waist and pulls him back. He stretches his arms forward and grabs at the air as he continues to cry. I quickly blow him a kiss, trying not to drag it out and test Zayn's newfound sense of patience. I slowly turn and walk through the open doorway. The heavy door closes loudly behind me.
Blake Riley♥
I'm sorry for the wait. I hope to update again this weekend. I will update ASAP. Next chapter will be much longer.
Thank you so much for reading. 843 doesn't seem like a lot, but it makes me all jittery. So thank you. Whoever you are.