My name is Remn Kaid. We are Outsiders. We have been here since the Great World War. For generations, we fought sicknesses. Many of us have died, but now, our bodies have adapted to our chemical surroundings; we even found plants that have survived the Outside. We are impervious to every sickness in the Outside. No one inside those big force field cities know we are here. Until today.
I was six years old at that time. I was helping my father work in the wheat fields when a huge aircraft settled over our little town. My father told me to hide underneath the long stalks of wheat.
His face was pale. Cold beads of sweat trickled down his face. I saw the fear in his eyes. He began to mumble to himself nervously.
“I knew this would happen, but so soon..”
“What's going on, Papa?” I asked, fear beginning to take hold of me as well.
My father didn't answer the question. Instead, he talked to me in a quivering voice.
“Remn, whatever happens, stay absolutely still. Do not let these people find you-”
“Who are they?!” I cut in, tears were threatening to spill over my eyes.
“Bad people. They want to-” screams of people cut him. He looked frantically behind him. He held my hand. “Stay here. I'll get your brothers and Mama, okay? I'll be back! Stay here!”
He ran off toward the rampage that replaced our peaceful town. I crouched under the wheat, waiting for him to come back. Fear now had a firm grasp of me. It shook my body, making me tremble. It seemed to laugh through the cries of people being tortured. I covered my ears, trying to block everything out, but when I covered my ears, my heart seemed to beat harder. Louder. It felt as if my own heart was going against me, pounding at my chest with fists. I removed my hands from my ears.
I heard scream from someone close by. I crawled towards the sound of the scream. It was Luna, a close friend of mine. We huddled close to each other. Together, we faced fear.
A rustling sound caught our attention. The curtain of wheat parted, and we came face to face with one of the “bad people”. He was covered in a astronaut-like suit. Both of his hands were caressing a flamethrower. Strapped to his back was a large bag. We cowered before him. Our fate was in his hands. Literally.
He dropped his weapon.