Glowing Embers

E.

I find myself walking down these decaying streets again; the balls of my feet are screaming out from the abuse of dodging unevenly fractured sidewalk slabs from the overgrown vegetation that considers these avenues home. They have started to reclaim them without anyone to battle them back. This has become more of a choreographed dance of jumps and well-timed turns than a walk.

This is my world-our world.

It’s been three long years since the collapse. Those of us that remain are like the glowing embers of a beach bonfire, long since extinguished.

I still remember the bonfire from our summer graduation party where Rob got drunk, puking on my, unfathomably expensive heels, that I naively tried to walk in the sand with until I decided a broken ankle wasn’t ideal. I know exactly who those shoes were for, but they never showed. Six months after that night, I let Rob take me home, five years later we’re married, happily enough, or at least we try to be.

The President-sorry Grand Masters face is plastered on buildings; his grin mocking us on a grand scale-He is how this happened. It seems like a different life that I still remember, with stocked grocery stores bustling with a variety of people, (mostly) patiently waiting in lines. Now, all I know is vulture-esque circling food stands in an underground parking garage, bartering for a bruised apple. I know I'm lucky I only have to grace the once-prized city of Manhattan every few weeks for things I can’t grow myself.

I see a bus bench up ahead; despite the fact they have long stopped running. The busses were abandoned in parking garages across the city; small rebellions from the bus drivers. This is where some have set up their homes after the government ousted us. The 2/3rds of the country that lived beneath the rich, lost everything that they never even owned. Our government exploded in size and illegal power.

I sit, mindlessly staring through the gates that block off their well-maintained street; only the privileged can drive on those designated roads. When this all started if you didn’t own your car, they repossessed it, even if you were making payments. After that, they removed people from apartments and then homes that had mortgages. This is when the mass suicides occurred.

I suddenly hear Russian being yelled around the corner; it’s become one of the most common languages. An influx of immigrants arrived when the government first started overreaching. I’m not fluent, but I know a few important phrases to get by.

That was step one, removing transportation. Rob was making payments when they took his without warning. They gave us a paper talking about carbon emissions and towed it away. Secret laws had been enacted, this sudden enforcement got people's attention, but it was already too late. The Grand Master was removing our freedom.

Expensive cars fly by with the occasional military vehicle to enforce no pedestrians or non-validated persons on their precious streets. If you violated rules, you would be imprisoned-no warnings, no tickets, no trial, and absolutely no jury. One day you would be there, the next you wouldn’t. That’s how I lost my best friend, Mallory. She was a redhead with a temper to match. Growing up she’d slug anyone who touched her toys; I admired her. We met on the first day of kindergarten. Now we live next door on a farm. We tend the gardens then relax drinking tea on the porch swing; enjoying our adult lives just like we talked about as kids.

I know it’s my fault she’s gone.

I cut my palm. Our area assigned doctor wouldn’t see me for at least two weeks and the hospitals no longer took us Povs. She didn’t have permission to enter the city, but she swore she wouldn’t get caught. I watched her pull out of the driveway, with that mischievous give-em-hell smile. By nightfall-the Grand Masters' curfew-she hadn’t returned and I knew it in my heart. That was six months ago.

I run my finger over the scar as a daily reminder.

I stand, slinging my bag over my shoulder to continue on home. A soldier has been eyeing me sitting in my memories on a bench plastered in 2018 ads. Shouldering past crowds, I see commotion down the street; probably the yelling from before. The following soldier is now more interested in this. I cross the street, watching him draw his weapon upon approach. He yells in English and then Russian- an attempt to diffuse the situation? They ignore him. My heart sinking and pace quickening I round the next corner when I hear a shot ring out.

I look to the sky as the rooftop pigeons took to air, so graceful; a moment of beauty from tragedy.

I could only keep walking. This wasn’t the first time something like this happened in front of me and surely wouldn’t be the last. In college, I watched a student spit in the face of a man sent to watch our campus. Widespread violence hadn’t yet emerged, I believe this was the catalyst. Within a blink, he was on the ground. I didn’t even hear the sound. A year later colleges closed.

Suddenly the onlookers are rushing behind me. I press my back up against the wall until they pass. A girl I don't recognize pauses, as if searching the bricks behind me for the words before shaking her head and continuing. I extend my neck out, tracking her down the street from the corner of my eye. My heart-shaped locket swaying freely when a strand of blonde and blue-stained hair falls over my eyes. I tuck it into my ponytail.

I'm distracted. I need a cigarette. I reach down to the sole of my boot to the hidden compartment I keep them in. I can’t stop wondering what she wanted to say. Strangers don’t talk to each other anymore, for fear of arousing their interest. The government can take anyone in for “questioning.” Most never return or they never speak again.

No one knows that they fear the unknown until the unknown is their only reality.

J.

The only place to find freedom now is in the dictionary. I was lucky enough to belong to the elite class. I'm nothing special, though. The only interesting thing about me is I’ve only loved one girl. Junior year. She was tall, milelong legs that I wanted to explore forever. I can never forget the memory of our first time alone. Under the bleachers looking for the burnouts, I heard a soft, cooing, sound. I spotted her beige hair, hunched over, facing away from me. I wasn’t sure how to get her attention; I cleared my throat. Swinging around I saw her tears. She raised an arm to wipe them away, but only smeared her mascara; She was still so fucking beautiful to me. Without words, I extended my hand to help and she leaned into my touch. As soon as the black streaks vanished into the grooves of my fingerprints, I smiled, telling her all was okay. She flashed a sheepish smile back and nodded when I finally heard her voice; it seemed so tiny, but filled with power.

A knock and the entrance of my redheaded secretary breaks the memory, bringing me back. She's new.

I watch a vulture circling outside my window. A rarity, because with the Povs, almost nothing is ever left to be consumed, that is, other than Povs themselves.

A flash of metal brings my attention to the street. Tall, back against the wall, head tilted, one foot propped up; Even from here, she feels familiar. Her hand works at her boot. She lifts something to her face. Wait...Is it? No way! It's a cigarette. I wonder if I could get down quick enough to bum one. It's lunch, so security would be in the breakroom with everyone else. 15 minutes to go out and back.

I start towards the unlocked stairwell. I guess they figured people are too lazy to actually use stairs to go anywhere in a high-rise. I press the bar inside its hollow counterpart and the door opens. The door closing echoes throughout the building, or maybe my fear is amplifying the sound. The lobby door pops open with a puff of dust. The wood is shiny and over waxed, like the janitor's boredom got the best of them- this makes the sun reflect off every surface; it's blinding. I squint to look at the front desk, victory! No guards.

I dart through the front doors, my eyes landing on her, a cloud of smoke blurring her face- I survey the rest of the block- making sure there is no policing presence before I approach. Her eyes open, she raises her arm up and back, forming a fist.

I take a step back, “Woah, I'm not going to hurt you!"

"Yea, right." Her voice, even when dripping with sarcasm, sounds familiar.

Her fist is suspended midair, a coiled snake ready to strike, but she never drops the cigarette.

"I wanted to bum one!" She looks me over.

"You don't belong here. You’re clearly not a Pov. Your shoes give you away." Her fist drops, she takes another drag, before extending it to me. "Here, you risked dying for it so I say you earned it, but I recommend you take it and- OH FUCK!"

Suddenly she grabs my collar and pulls me around the corner.

"Military vehicle driving down the gated street. If they saw us with contraband, it’s game over."

Now I can see an officer coming around the opposite corner of the building we just turned. "We need to go NOW!" This was such a bad idea.

"What? Where?"

"My building."

"I'm a Pov, I can't."

"I'll sneak you in." I don't think the security guard returned from lunch yet.

"How am I going to get out, or home?" Panic has filled her blue eyes-I swear I know them.

"You’ll never get home if you're dead." With my hand now gripping her wrist, I dash into the lobby. I swing her in front, twist around on my heel, and lock the doors. Her bag of groceries scatters across the lobby from our hasty entrance.

I can hear the elevator beeping- likely filled with security who will know she is a Pov and turn her in. The display tells me they're on the 3rd floor.

"Get in the stairs over there, I will grab the food!" she disappears into the stairwell, the door clicks shut as the elevator doors open; I somehow managed to shove all of her fruit inside my jacket pockets. Al, the head of security, eyes me suspiciously, "What are you doing off your floor?"

"Well, I had a question and I called the desk, but you didn't answer. So, I came down to see if you were okay. You check on everyone, but no one checks on you!"

Al steps out chuckling, "Well, thanks! What question?"

"Uhhhhh, well, I wanted to know if we could find a way to open windows, it can be so stuffy y'know?"

"I understand, but regulations say we have to keep the building airtight in case of a biochemical attack, sorry!"

"No, it's okay! I get it." I push the elevator button, trying not to look at the stairs.

I can feel an apple worming its way out from my pocket. My heart starts pounding, I pray to gods I don’t believe in that the door will open and I’m inside before it escapes.

I can only imagine the scene: an apple ricocheting off every surface in the lobby due to the inch-thick wax. I safely enter the elevator without incident, I take this time to come up with a game plan. Once on my floor, I’ll rescue her from the stairs. I can only hope she stayed put and unfound.

Wait. Was she wearing Emily's heart-shaped locket?