The Bank

If she could see me right now, see where I've landed myself, would she be disappointed? The answer is unclear to me, and the barking of the tracking dogs makes it even harder to think. I'm currently huddled behind a large rock, too small to be called a boulder but big enough to hide my form. I'm too afraid to peek over the edge of the rock for fear of being shot at again. My right hand reaches up to brush the bullet graze I received just minutes prior. I feel my body shiver involuntarily at the memory: both the sound of the shot and subsequent tearing of my jacket were enough to send me flying behind cover. It's far too cold, rainy, and damp to risk a hole in my coat. Recollecting myself, my hands move all over my body in a patting motion to make sure everything is still attached. I made a foolish decision by leaving my pack and tent behind, but the gunshot didn't give me much time. All I have now is the locket she had given me; small, silver, and heart-shaped, she told me it would lead me to "the cure for all this calamity." She always was a wordy one. I recall when I first opened the damn thing: all that was inside was a built-in electronic chip and coordinates carved into the front piece.

The coordinates, naturally, weren't any help. I've been scouring this coast for days, looking for what my partner had called the Bank. I actually managed to find the location on the locket! I was surprised to find that it was just rocks, rocks, and more rocks. I moved the stones around and lifted them, looking under them to see if there was another trick I just wasn't getting; I even threw a few down to see if they'd crack open like eggs. Nothing interesting happened, so I became confused, and my confused state is what they caught me in. It's just a downward spiral, isn't it?

I was crouched when I heard a dog howl. I stood up like the perfect target I am, making that my second mistake of the week. The first mistake was assuming I'd have enough time "off" of work to get to The Bank. Like I've said, the bullet chased me behind a well-placed rock. Now, here I am, cowering like a child while the AgriCorp goons try to find me through a sniper's scope. The barking is closer this time, and it's sufficiently distracting enough to bring me out of my head and back into the situation. I need to weigh my options here, but what options do I have? I can run, but if I run, I have to trust that whoever is behind that gun is willing to miss their second shot. I don't think I'm ready to trust someone who's shooting at me. I can stay put, but I'm sure they've already spotted me once. There are not too many human-sized rocks on this shoreline; they'll find me eventually. Tears are threatening to fall, but their bubbling heat feels pleasant compared to the frigid wind. I can't cry now. I need to focus. Even if I don't make it out of here alive, I need to make sure they don't get this necklace.

She never specifically told me what it does, just that it was "heavily modified" and that I had to get it to the coast. I sure do miss her, but I don't miss her love of being mysterious. I can't say I blame her for that, given her circumstances. The last thing she told me before she disappeared was that this would change everything. I wouldn't have to work in the mines anymore for scraps of bread. I wouldn't have to watch my countrymen starve to death on the crumbs of AgriCorp. She told me that this locket would flip everything inside out, and we would have the power again. I didn't believe her then, and I'm not even sure I believe her now.

The people chasing me work for the ones in control. My partner once said to me, "he who holds the bread holds everything in his hands." I may not be the smartest, but I know what she meant by that. Agricorp controls everything, but especially food production and distribution. It's the reason I'm so slow right now. If I had been better fed, I probably could have been aware enough to dodge that bullet. The men chasing me are nourished and trained; I'm a half-starved ex-miner with a unique necklace. I hate to be pessimistic, but I think I know who's going to win this one. I need to see what I'm dealing with. I haven't lost much blood at all. If they want a chase, by god, I'll give them one.

Sweat is pooling on my back, but I know that I need to see where the dogs are. My hand grips the locket tightly; the now warmed metal is comforting and smooth against the palm of my hand. My body shifts to face the rock, and I slowly put my hand on its jagged edge. One, two, three. Wait, do I go on three? Or do I go after three? It doesn't matter. I'll probably get my head blown off anyways. My fingers grip the rough surface so tightly that tiny scrapes begin to form on my fingers. My head pops up over the edge so that my eyes are unobstructed. I spot at least eight hounds on tethers and four men with scary-looking, angular rifles. I was unlucky enough that one of the masked soldiers was facing my cover. He had watched every movement I made. His gun raised when he caught me, and the bastard managed to fire a shot. It missed my head by a hair's width. The whistle of a bullet past my ears was more than enough to throw me back to the dirt. Well, if they didn't know where I was before, they know now.

That leaves me with one option: I've got to run. I can see the cliff's edge from where I hunkered down. My arms fly to my sides to stabilize my quaking body. I know that what I'm about to do is suicidal, but I promised her that I'd keep the locket safe even if that meant I'd die with it. I can hear their boots smacking the ground dangerously close to my rock. The barking of the dogs is grating to my ears. I raise my behind and run like I have a fire burning my ass. My head swivels unconsciously, and I lock eyes with one of the dogs. Barking, foaming, and snarling, I would've gotten bit if I had left seconds later. The men are yelling for me to stop, but I'm too distracted by my legs pumping. White-hot fear covers my arms and creeps up the back of my neck when I realize that they haven't fired a single bullet yet.

I'm about five feet from the drop-off when I barely stop myself from going over the edge. Once again, I turn to face my pursuers, eyes darting from one respirator-covered face to another. I figured that they'd be wearing breathing protection. The air out here is rough, mainly because AgriCorp won't let anything grow on the surface anymore. My entire body is square to them now. I keep my legs apart, trying to look more assertive than I'm capable of being. I must look ragged- emaciated and covered in wet dust, bleeding from my left arm. The men are spread out with their guns raised. The soldier with the captain's armband had called the dogs off a while ago; they looked more docile now. I cast a glance over my shoulder at the plummet below. If I fell, I'd fall straight into the raging ocean, and my body would be slammed against the sea rocks by the waves. I'd die, no doubt. My attention snaps back to the captain when I hear the familiar woosh of a respirator being disengaged.

His face is rough and bearded. "Thomas, you don't have to do this. All we need is for you to hand us that locket. It was vital to Doctor Amari's work. We just want to figure out why," his voice is rougher than his face.

My mouth is too dry to reply, so I take a step back only to hear rocks crumbling. The last thing I remember was falling until I wasn't falling anymore. I'm not sure if I hit my head hard enough to knock myself out entirely, but the sky is no longer the overcast gray it had been before. The sun is rising, casting a beautiful pink-orange hue over the horizon. I shut my eyes for a minute, taking note of how sore everything feels. I put my right arm out first, opening my eyes to inspect it. It looks fine, so I stick my left arm out, flexing my fingers with it. It, too, is perfect, with no broken bones. I use my arms to bring myself to a sitting position with my legs still splayed out. I wiggle my toes, and they listen to the command. I turn my head to the right to gaze at the sunrise, bringing my hand up to shield my eyes. Where did I land? Am I dead?

I swing my head around to assess my position. I'm sitting on packed dirt in a cave opened to the sea. I turn my head up, noticing the pain in my neck. I ignore the ache, forcing my eyes to flit over the uneven ceiling; a me-sized chunk had been carved out, indicating the cause of my fall. The space under the cliffs was hollow? This place has to be artificial. The waves aren't high enough to rub away at the rock up here.

I shift my weight onto my legs as I stand, testing my limits. I take a few steps around, coming face to face with what I can only describe as a bunker door. Yep, this cave is artificial. How did I not notice that? My first reaction is to bang on the steel slab with my fist. A deep, hollow pang reaches my ears. I squint to get a better look at the door in the dark, running my fingers over the cold facade. There's a mechanical locking mechanism that looks like it was jury-rigged to the door. I look up at it; it's at least 10 feet tall and 6 feet wide. At the top of the door sits a faded metal sign indicating that this door belonged to the Byford Seed Bank.

Oh, the Bank! This is the Bank! My heart leaps into my throat at the realization that I had made it. My fingers scramble over the door again, finding a heart-shaped void in the locking mechanism. The tears fall freely now as I pull the locket out and place it in the hole. The moment the door registers its key, a loud metallic screech rings out, causing the mechanism to shift as the door opens. I'm practically bouncing as it fully retracts, revealing a pristinely white, tiled interior hallway. I can't help but think about her; Amari always said that my best actions were the ones I did by accident. I step through the doorway, looking over my shoulder one last time at the sunrise. Amari was right; I just wish she could've been here to join me. She would have loved this place. They must think I'm dead, and that will give me more than enough time to figure out what to do with all these seeds. I was a terrible miner, but maybe I'll finally get to try my hand at farming. If food is power, then power to the people, right?