Home of the Free

The knocks came after dinner.

Three raps at the front door: abrasive, aggressive, authoritative.

Glen Finch put down the footrest of his recliner and stood from its familiar comfort. His middle school-aged twins looked up to him with widened eyes. He held his hand out calmly, shushing them.

The knocks came again. Harder this time.

"I'm coming," Glen called out.

The children froze, sitting upright on the rug. Eyes glancing between the movie playing softly on the television and their stoic father.

Glen looked through the peephole, though he had a feeling he knew exactly who was waiting for him on the other side. With a deep breath, he undid the top latch and unlocked the deadbolt, opening the front door.

The only thing that stood between him and the uninvited guest was the storm door. Everyone hoped they would only talk through the screen.

"Good evening." Glen cleared his throat. "How may I help you?"

"You could help me by letting me in without a fight. I'm required to search the premises."

The officer was standing with his arms crossed over his chest, body armor covering his torso. A pistol was visible on his waistband, as well as an assortment of other instruments meant to harm: pepper spray, a baton, smoke grenades...

His face was covered. He wore a black ball cap with a grayscale American flag on the front. A grey, camo balaclava was around his mouth and neck. The only distinguishing feature available for viewing was the piercing stare of his cold gaze, surrounded by crows' feet.

"Do you have a warrant?" Glen asked calmly, never looking back at his children.

The twins stayed on the rug, holding each other's hands as they went back to pretending to play their game.

"You know I don't need one, Mr. Finch." The officer raised his barely visible brow. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way. It's entirely up to you. I see you have young children here. You don't want them to witness the hard way now, do you?"

Glen swallowed. He turned the handle on the storm door and propped it open for the officer.

"Papers, now." The officer demanded as he made his way into the living room.

"Of course." Glen walked over to the lockbox set firmly on the nearest bookshelf. He entered the code and grabbed everyone's documentation, walking back over to the officer to hand it over.

"As you can see, we're all United States citizens, Officer... I didn't catch your name, sorry."

"You don't need to know my name." The officer grabbed the papers from Glen's hands. He held them up to the light to verify the official state seal hidden between layers of legitimate paperwork. He looked over the official photographs carefully, eyeing each subject and ensuring the distinguishing features matched up.

"These expire in two months." The officer handed them back. "Lines have been long at the Registry, I recommend, especially as your children begin to age rapidly, renewing these sooner rather than later. We wouldn't want any accidental misidentifications, now, would we, Mr. Finch?"

"No, of course not." Glen swallowed... coming up with $1,000 a person every year was hard enough, let alone getting them done early. "You have a good evening, now."

Glen started toward the front door, but the officer put his hand up to Glen's chest.

"I'm not done here."

The twins looked at each other before looking back at their father and the officer. They hadn’t let go of each other's hands.

"Please see yourselves to the front porch while I perform a routine search of the entire building."

"May I ask the reason for this? We've never been flagged before. All of our paperwork is clearly up to date. We comply with the Rules of Cyber-communication. We turned in all of our unsavory books to the Department. What more could we possibly do to comply with the demands of the state? We are upstanding, law-abiding citizens." Glen stood his ground, the officer's hand pressing harder into his chest.

"We've received intelligence that houses in this neighborhood are harboring fugitives of the state. We must do our due diligence to ensure that we Keep America Safe, and that includes searches and seizures when commanded. You wouldn't get in the way of an official investigation, would you, Mr. Finch?" The officer pressed forward further, standing toe-to-toe with Glen. Their foreheads almost touching.

"Of course not," Glen stood straight. "Annabelle, Christopher." He called for his children. They scrambled up from the floor and stood behind their father. The officer made a path for them to exit the building, and they did as instructed.

****

January 13, 2033

Dear Diary,

Horrible things are happening outside. Poor, powerless people are being dragged out of their encampments. Families are being torn apart. Men, women, and children are separated. Children come home from school finding that their relatives have disappeared during the day.

Mr. Finch still doesn't have any information about where my parents have gone. I worry that I will never see them again. I'm grateful that Annabelle took me in and hid me under the floorboards.

Mr. Finch has been preparing for something like this to happen. He dug a tunnel beneath the house. No permits. No paperwork. And built a room to hide people like me. I hope that I am safe here. I pray they don't find me.

There is only so much food to go around because of the rations, but the Finches share and make sure I'm fed. I'm a little smaller than Annabelle, but we can get away with sharing uniforms, so I can at least stay clothed.

Under the floorboards, it's a little cold, but at least I'm safe for now. I wish every day for this to be over. I miss going to school and playing with my friends. Christopher and Annabelle come down here when they can, and they talk about what they're learning in class. But the study material has changed so much. I could have sworn the Constitution had something called the "Bill of Rights," but they said it was called the "Cost of Freedom."

I shrugged it off; it wasn't worth arguing over. It doesn't do any good for me right now anyway.

I hope to write again tomorrow.

- Catalina Esperanza

****

The twins and their father stood on the porch, shivering. They huddled close together, praying that Cat stayed quiet. The rug covered the entrance to the shelter, and the floorboard seams were disguised as much as possible, but the fear of getting caught was inescapable.

After what felt like an hour, the officer reappeared at the front door.

"House is clear. You may enter."

"Thank you, officer," Glen said, extending his hand for a shake.

The officer ignored his gesture.

"Remember, if you see something, say something. And, lights off by nine or I'll be back." With that, the officer walked out into the night.

The family gave a quiet sigh of relief and headed back into the house.

Their home was ransacked. What little belongings they had were thrown all over the floor. Some things were even broken. The twins' Scrabble game ended early, as the words they made were illegible now.

"We'll clean up tomorrow," Glen mumbled as he locked the door back up. "Just go to bed, rest. You have school in the morning, and I'm expected at the data center before you depart. Don't forget breakfast." He eyed the rug, which remained untouched, before putting his gaze back on his children.

"We won't forget," Annabelle said with a forced smile.

"I love you, goodnight," Glen said, loud enough for everyone to hear him.

"Love you too," three voices said in unison.

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The italicized portion of this piece is lifted and slightly paraphrased from The Diary of Anne Frank.