lost and found

Harper scrunched herself down into the corner of the abandoned house and tried to make herself as small as possible. Her hair had come loose and she pulled it back into a rough ponytail, scraping her dark hair back to be out of her eyes, wincing as she pulled it tight. She looked around her, her breath making small clouds in the still air. Surveying her hideout for the evening.

She could hear the rain pouring down outside. Water dripped from the broken sky light above.

Maddening.

Drip.

Harper was so thirsty. She couldn’t remember her last drink.

Drip.

But rain hadn’t been drinkable since the disaster.

The sun was setting, she could see the last rays of light as another day died. It stirred a longing deep inside her. Sunset was when everyone used to gather on the verandah. Coming together at the end of the day. A time to share stories, tell jokes and relax. A break between the work of the day and the eating of the evening meal. Her stomach rumbled? How many days had it been since she had last eaten?

Harper balled her hands into fists and rubbed them into her eye sockets, breaking the spell. Through the dim light on the opposite wall she could make out a picture, a circle, a star, an arrow. Once a symbol of resistance. There was no resistance left.

“Not true,” Harper whispered, shocking herself with the sound of her voice.

She hadn’t seen anyone for a long time. Was there anyone left on the outside?She glanced at the screen in the corner. There hadn’t been any messages for days. Should she try it? Her fingers itched wanting to turn it on, wanting to connect. Her heart raced at the thought of a connection, a human voice, she rocked forward onto the balls of her feet. A proper message, from real people, not the hope of the movement that floated on the breeze.

Crash

Harper froze. A movement outside. Was she caught? No, just something dislodged by the rain. Sinking back down to the floor, heart slowly slowing down, she thought back to the time before. When people thought it was a good thing. A great movement. Who didn’t like peace, love and harmony?

Her sister Lisa was one of the first. Drawn in through the messages, turning away from her family. Looking for solace but negating herself. All Lisa had stood for, her studies wasted, her mind no longer prized, her only worth as a vessel.

Once they were in power everything fell away for those who didn’t want to join. Housing, hospitals, food; they were all provided. But at what cost? Why the need to conform? Make everyone all the same. Then the rumours began, that they were experimenting with mind control, soundwaves. Who knew what was true anymore?

Harper leant back against the wall. She was so cold, so tired.

A black rat scurried across her foot, something rotten caught between its teeth. Harper recoiled, swallowing a scream. It wouldn’t do to be caught now. Her leg kicked out involuntarily. The rat flew across the room and landed with a thud. It lay, not moving. Harper considered it. She was so cold and so hungry. Would it be warm if she picked it up? Would it be soft against her cheek? Would it…

The rat jumped up, shook itself and ran away. It’s claws skittering across the wooden floor.

Harper cradled her head in her hands and breathed out a sigh. Of relief? Of regret?

She needed food though, she thought of the food halls that were rumoured to exist for those of the chosen. When she let her guard down, let her mind relax she could catch their messages in the breeze. The bunkers that were built and maintained by the few. Would it be so bad? To give up your freedom, your sense of self, your body, for a good meal. What would be best : surrender to certainty or hold on for hope.

Harper turned up her headphones - white noise flooding her ears, blocking the messages. No matter what they said she’d seen what the music could do to people, what it did to Lisa. Turned her mind, switched off her reason. When you could hear the music you knew you were lost, the music was worse than the messages.

Her eyes felt heavy. So heavy. She started her routine, desperate to stay awake. She ran through her plan, repeating the coordinates that had been broadcast over and over before the transmissions ended. She would make it there, corner of west and fifth, under the second lamppost, open the third grill. Round and round, at the end of each time remembering the faces of her parents and Lisa.

Despite her best efforts she succumbed to her exhaustion.

Wait, what was that!

Harper jerked awake. Her headphones were dead; out of charge, there hadn’t been enough sun for days to keep them going.

She could hear them coming closer. She could see the flickering light of their torches. The sound of many feet shuffling, slowly ever so slowly. Getting closer and closer. Furiously her fingers scrabbled around in the darkness trying to find anything to shove in her ears, to block out the sound. Nothing.

Torch light flickering on the broken window pane, slowly sweeping back and forth. You could pick out the pattern, escape through them. Away from the light, back into the darkness if you wanted to.

The sound was becoming more insistent, the lyrical drone of voices. Up and down, soothing like the waves of the sea, then dragging you under, drowning you, making you one with the movement.

Harper stood as if wrenched from above. A puppet on a string, pulled by an invisible master. Stiffly she turned and walked down the corridor out to the waiting crowd.

Eyes glazed, reflecting the firelight of the torches, Harper held out her hand to grasp the outstretched heart shaped locket. Placing it over her head, she joined the procession.