The Alarm.

‘Beep’.

The alarm had begun. And although she knew it was coming, she wasn’t quite sure what to expect. Would it be deafening, inescapable-how would she cope? Its gentleness had surprised her; it was low, melodic and warmly soothing like a row boat on a slow, steamy river. So far, she’d heard two; the one that had woken her up, and the one that had interrupted her breakfast of canned chicken soup.

So, this was the sound of approaching death, she thought bitterly.

She sat back on her hastily assembled mattress and listened to the drip of the rainwater as it leaked rhythmically into the filthy bucket she’d salvaged. She pulled on her grimy jeans, laying on the bed to do so, and gazed through the broken corrugated iron roof. A black helicopter buzzed high above her, its beastly blades chopping up the grey clouds, its guns erect- a hair’s breadth from firing; its presence a constant warning that wherever you were they’d be watching.

It had all so easily fallen apart. A few months earlier she was considered one of the lucky ones. Her job with The Ministry as a computer programmer had bestowed upon her credit to access the hallowed System. The type of credit that people would kill and die for.

For her loyalty, she was awarded a sleek apartment in Cloud Place, monthly life tokens and weekly food packages, but despite this, she swung between corroding emptiness, scolding rage and miserable exhaustion. And although she didn’t blame them, she hated her ministry allocated social network, a terrified group of aggressively smiling couples infected with, and driven by, deep paranoia. Each day, the very first sentence they spoke to each other in the lobby was an excruciating lie; “How are you? I’m excellent thank you. All Hail The Ministry”.

The job was crushing. 15-hour days with her little spare time taken up by mandatory Ministry Activities. Each day she felt as if any part of her that had any real merit was slowly eroding, deprived of the nourishment of choice. The ability to choose how she interacted with the world, the ability to make the decision between right and wrong, left or right. With each hour spent behind a ministry screen, she created more sophisticated ways to control and spy upon the populace- to increase their already choking bondage.

But I don’t have a choice. She’d whisper in the shower as she cried heavy tears, or she’d mouth to Remy on those nights where it all became too much and he’d hold her lovingly and silently in his arms.

Ah Remy, I miss you. Her throat tightened painfully at the memory of him, his warmth, their bed, his smell.

‘Beep’

The alarm sounded again shaking her out of her malaise. 20 minutes between each. She calculated.

Standing up, she made her way across the small room to the hunchback desk she’d managed to build from chipped breeze blocks and rotten planks of wood. There, on its wonky and encrusted table top laid her tools for survival. The shotgun that Remy had managed to leave her as she made her audacious escape, the hunting knife that she’d taken from the dead man she’d found rotting in this forsaken warehouse, a tranquiliser gun, but most importantly, the Lifescanner that she’d stolen from The Ministry.

She held the palm sized flat screen nervously in her hand. This piece of technology, that she had slavishly designed, would help determine many fates. She clicked it on, and the display brightened, “Welcome” announced the calming female voice, "to Lifescanner”

A huge heart filled the screen, beating three times and bursting like a joyous firework to reveal the menu. She chose the scan area option, and it took her to a map of the neighbourhood.

For weeks she’d seen nothing, or when a heart would appear on screen it would be at less than a quarter capacity. “Not good enough!” She’d screamed into her pillow as the anguish of her 2nd week alone in this hellish and forgotten warehouse began to take hold.

“Life credits detected”, came the computerised voice. She took a sharp intake of breath as she navigated the map, praying that these weren’t almost depleted.

“Please just this one time, please”. She whispered desperately.

Suddenly, two full hearts appeared together just three blocks from the warehouse,

“Thank you”. She exhaled shakily.

She could feel the surge of adrenaline coursing furiously all over her body like a tidal wave, as she slung the shotgun over her back, attached the knife to her boot, and the tranquiliser gun onto her belt. She took a few deep breaths to steady her jittery hands, and made her way into the murky alley.

She ran stealthily along the back streets, through the piss and the blood, avoiding the eyes of the dying as they lay weakly on sodden cardboard boxes awaiting their final alarm. Her mind racing back to Remy, his smile, his strength his heart- she hoped it was still full.

‘Beep’. It was becoming sharper, more urgent.

Ten minutes between each. She calculated.

With this next beep, her breathing had started to become shallow and her legs ached with fatigue, but her heart beat defiantly, so much so that it hammered in her ears, in her temples, in her throat, as if begging her to survive.

She stopped on the corner, positioning herself behind an abandoned car and took out the Lifescanner, it showed the two hearts about 100 metres from her position. She waited, muscles tensed and hands slippery with sweat as she anticipated her next beep and their approach.

“The captain has invited me and Sheila to his for dinner next Saturday, I think this may be my chance at the promotion- you know I’ve always seen myself as a pilot” Said one, his voice young, brimming with hope and ambition.

“Oh really? Well, please remember me, when you’re flying high! I put in to be a pilot, but they advised they needed more ground troops to protect the High redits, I’m grateful you know, but man, I love flying- less killing…”

She peered up so that she could see through the car’s cracked, dusty window, and there they were, two soldiers with guns, The Ministry emblazoned in thick black letters across their chests, on their patrol to find and kill people like her.

It was now, or never.

She laid herself on the ground so that she could see their feet beneath the car, pressing her face tight to the road, so that the gravel, the tiny pieces glass and the damp filth imprinted themselves on her cheek. She squinted, focusing the aim of her tranquiliser gun on her oblivious target.

Don’t. Fucking. Miss.

She shot.

“What the hell!” Yelled the solider on the left grabbing for his ankle. “I think I’ve, been sho..” he trailed off as he collapsed in a heap on the floor.

She stayed as still as concrete, gazing into the wide-open eyes of the soldier now paralysed in a temporary death.

‘Beep’.

The alarm was now louder and more aggressive, its pitch was higher and even though she knew only she could hear it, it amazed her that they couldn’t. She knew that in a few more minutes she wouldn’t have the strength to lift herself up, let alone fire a gun, so she had to be bold.

The remaining soldier backed up from his mate, pulling up his gun and aiming wildly, “Come out, show yourself” he bellowed fearfully. “You have fired upon Ministry Personnel, come out!”.

He’d moved too far away for her to use the tranquiliser gun, so she slowly lifted herself up, feeling the heaviness of her body as if tar had replaced her blood and mud the air around her.

She kept low, watching as the soldier looked around blindly. Silently, she rested her gun on the car’s hood, aiming at the head of the panic-stricken man.

‘Beep’ urged the alarm.

Are you ready to kill?

She shot the gun and the bullet tore through the humid air with a crack and before he could yell out, the soldier’s head exploded into thousands of red, liquid ribbons that danced to the floor painting it all at once.

She ran, the beeps now screaming at her to move, to fight, deafening her, clawing inside her head. She kneeled at body of the first soldier, her chest heaving, choking for air, his eyes so young and afraid, his stubble had barely had time to bloom. She ripped open his jacket, and there it was shining, newly full and embedded in his pale skin; A Life Locket.

A thin white chain hung around his neck with a smooth white heart the size of a large coin attached to it. The heart was implanted into the middle of his chest, glowing like a button on a machine. She pulled out her hunting knife, the beeps making it impossible to think, and used the tip to pull the locket free.

‘Beep’

1 minute. She calculated.

She pulled off her vest, dizzy with the strange euphoria that arrives just before death, her eyes darkening and her vision full of shadows. With a spurt of aggression dragged from her deepest reserves, she managed to pull out her Life Locket, hands barely able to grasp the knife, weakened by the life fighting to leave her body and leaking with the sweat of someone dangling over a cliff. She knew she had 25 seconds to replace her locket once it left her body, and so with her remaining strength pressed the soldier’s Life Locket into the place her exhausted heart once stood.

She closed her eyes and wondered if she’d managed to do it on time.

“Life Locket inserted; you have enough power for 2 weeks. For immortality, it is vital you keep your Life Locket in credit with Life Tokens”. Instructed a robotic voice.

She laid still for a few moments enjoying the unexpected and near orgasmic pleasure of having her life restored. Her mind as always, went back to Remy. Had they believed him? Or had they punished him for her involvement with The Liberation Movement? She couldn’t contemplate his death at the hands of The Ministry- it would be gruesome, agonising and public. No, he was alive and his heart was full. She declared.

She picked herself up, scavenging what she could from the men, trying not to think of their mothers, their fathers, their partners, their last thoughts, vowing that she’d find a better way.

The silence of the street, where the extremes of life and death had collided so swiftly and violently, made her want to weep deep guttural tears, for the soldiers, for herself, for them all. She stood for a moment, closing her eyes, begging everything for forgiveness.

The gravel behind her crunched and with a quick movement, she turned around to see a man 15 metres behind her, Lifescanner in hand, ragged, and outcast like she. His bloody red eyes looked greedily at her chest now a-glow with a heart so full, The Ministry would be proud. His hands, blackened and calloused from months of survival pulled out the large gun from his belt. Her heart quickened with panic as she realised that both her guns were on the floor next to the car.

Without a second glance back, she turned and started to run as fast as she could, screaming as a bullet flew past her head with a loud and frightening crack.

‘Beep’. His alarm pulsated angrily. 10 minutes. He calculated as he locked onto his target.