ELISE ROE:
In two weeks, we graduated from “Cs” to “C-0s”.
Do you know what they did? To initiate us?
They lined us up and tattooed three tiny, interlocked circles behind our right ear. Within an hour, everyone was marked.
After, we stood in rows while an old man stepped up to the podium, spoke about sacrifice, about order forged out of chaos, and how everyone deserves a second chance: The Run-downs. Our loved ones.
The spot behind my ear stung. Everyone clapped. I kept my hands behind my back and twisted my fingers.
A younger man stepped up to the podium, adjusted the microphone. When the man turned his head, I noticed two of his tattooed circles were filled in. A C-2.
“C-0s, I’m your new training leader. Things will be different, now.”
People shifted their weight. Someone coughed.
“My name is James Smith,” he continued, “and I’ll be leading your first real world training: The Night Shift.”
He placed both hands on the podium. “You’ll encounter some of the most common crimes, and you’ll be tested on your reaction, safety measures, and speed.”
He divided us into groups and led us outside to a row of trucks, their backs open. Pitch black inside. I thought: Those trucks aren’t for us, right?
James said, “Get in.”
Wrong.
We all obediently stepped into the back of the trucks. It didn’t feel any different than walking towards the edge of a cliff. I glanced around for Nik.
It was dark inside, and we all stumbled over each other. I pressed my palms against the wall and tried not to picture Andi sitting at the kitchen table, waiting for me.
“Psst.” Nik flicked the back of my arm and pulled me towards the back of the truck. We both sat on the floor.
James appeared at the opening. “You should know,” He began, his eyes scanning our faces, “There won’t be any medical services near our destination. So, my advice is to not get hurt.”
James pulled the sliding door down with a bang. Complete darkness.
Silence for half a second. Then everyone began to speak in hushed tones, trying to figure out what to expect. I pressed my back against the cool wall of the truck, and I tried to remember everything Ivy and Andi had lectured me on safety.
The truck hissed to a start, and I leaned close to Nik. “You think the doors are locked? We can jump out. Run.”
“Don’t be stupid.”
“I shouldn’t have ever agreed to this. I should be at home right now.”
He sighed, “Think of your parents. Try to get some sleep.”
I couldn’t fall asleep. The truck was so bumpy, and the way I sat made my legs numb. I rested my head against the metal, tried to ignore the rocking, the smell of gasoline.
Instead of sleeping, I replayed comforting memories in my head. Like the time when Chaos found a forgotten jar of tomato paste at the grocery store. Our food tasted so good for the next few weeks.
Or when Mom and Dad took us on a road trip. One of our stops was an aquarium. Ivy stood in front of the shark exhibit, blue light rippling off her face, and told us that sharks are older than trees, older than the rings of Saturn.
My beanie. I had it with me in my pocket. I’d gotten it for my birthday years ago. Mustard yellow, my favorite color.
It was memories like these that kept me going. No matter how hard things seemed to get, I clung to the belief that I hadn’t lived my happiest day. That if I kept pushing, kept trying, kept believing, I would find myself in a state of peace. One day. It was hard, though, to feel very optimistic in the back of a truck driving to God-knows-where. It was hard to keep clinging to “one day”.
I pulled out my beanie. I pressed it to my face and held back tears.
It smelled like home.
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and then Add to home screen.