More Than Imagined

Chapter 6

Eli took the lead on their way to the meeting hall. The hallway was teeming, but not unusually so, which made it a wonder why Rhoawyn was having such a hard time with the crowd.

Some brushed past her, eager to take on this new life that had been forced on them. Others fell behind. But Rhoawyn was wedged between extremes. And the surrounding people seemed like they're closing in from all sides—forcing her to accept her new circumstance or reject it altogether, else she be crushed by her own uncertainty.

The thought of it caused Rhoawyn to grab onto the fabric of Eli's coat. She tried to convince herself that it was because she didn't want to lose him in the crowd. But right now, he was the only force strong enough to keep her grounded. I don't want to be here. Didn't plan on being here.

When he turned and found it was her weighing him down, she thought that maybe getting swept away wasn't such a bad idea and let go.

"Didn't take you for the claustrophobic type," Eli said.

And she wasn't. At least she didn't think she was before that moment.

"There's a lot you don't know about me," she murmured. There's a lot I don't know about me. About all of this. She scanned the area for a window, a door, anything that would put some distance between her and this life she didn't ask for. These people she didn't really want to meet. Rhoawyn could tell Eli was getting worried—no, skeptical—by the way he kept glancing back. Kept keeping tabs on her.

So when she saw the bright, bold letters of the word RESTROOM, she did not hesitate to tell Eli she needed to excuse herself. He said something about waiting and her meeting him up ahead when she was finished, but Rhoawyn missed most of it as she was already halfway in the door.

It was just like any other public restroom she had ever been in, aside from the lack of windows. She wanted windows. Wanted to lay eyes on Site 7, where they were taught their bodies would end up after Departure. Wanted to go back to what she knew. What was familiar—expected. Wanted what she signed up for.

She waited for the noise outside to die down. To let her know that the coast was clear. That Eli had gone off to wherever it was he was taking her. That he was hopefully too wrapped up in conversation with the people she was going to meet to notice how long she was taking.

Rhoawyn peeked her head out of the sliding door. The halls were empty, everyone scattered to some unknown destination. She walked the other way. Slowly, at first, skimming her hands across the reflective metal to transfer some of its chill to her feverish skin.

There has to be a way out, she thought. She quickened into a light jog when she reached a curving corridor, the heavy plonk of her new boots breeding a blaring echo—threatening to alarm someone of her escape.

Before anyone noticed what she was up to, she happened upon a large, bolted door. There was a genetic reader fused into the wall next to it, and Rhoawyn breathed a sigh of relief. She took a few quick glanced behind her, double-checking before placing a shaky index finger to the face of the scanner.

"Please work. Please work. Please work," was a manic mantra on her lips as the laser lights to life. All Rhoawyn could do is hope that her information had already been implanted into the system. Hope that it won't reject her.

At the completion of the scan, the door unbolted in a slow creak. Rhoawyn darted out, thinking herself closer to freedom. And freedom is what she found, though not the type she anticipated.

She was met with the sight of green, more than she had ever seen in her entire life. It hugged the bodies of crumbling structures—some tall enough to kiss the clouds—and caterpillar'd down into the ashy, brown sediment. There were remnants of vehicles scattered along the landscape. Some hunched on their side like the giant, fuzzy vines slithering on every inch of the ground have tossed them aside.

The land, completely overrun by nature, was beautiful to Rhoawyn. Even the smell of it is more welcoming than the sterile scent of the dome. It resembled the afterlife—the heaven—she had seen so many times in her mind when she drank serums in the dome.

Wait, the dome, Rhoawyn jolted, her admiration coming to a screeching halt. Worried eyes peered around the area. And sure enough, off in the distance, a translucent arch gleamed and her fear was confirmed.

"I'm outside the dome."

In a quick, she held her breath, trying to avoid any spores that could be in the air. Or maybe even the air itself. But that didn't last long. Who was to know where the threat of Plague originated from? They had always been taught that every inch of the Fringe was hazardous; that you can contract the disease at any moment on the outside.

In a lapse of better judgment, Rhoawyn sprinted toward the safety of the dome—ignoring the fact that the likelihood of her being allowed back inside was less than none. She had been exposed, perhaps even contaminated. But she couldn't stop herself from clambering through the tightly woven vines between the trees; trees clothed in fine-pointed thorns, that pinned and pricked against her skin as she fought her way to her destination.

A chorus of eerie caws circle overhead, likely searching for something easy to prey upon. The sound urged Rhoawyn ever forward. She'd never known herself to be so quick, always placing in the middle of the pack when they had raced in her neighborhood. But the power in her legs felt heightened, and the curve of the dome came into unobstructed view.

She chalked her newfound speed up to adrenaline. To fear. And when she reached a clearing, the mouth of it filled with the murky green waters of a lake, she was able to make out a large indention in the dome's side—one she could only assume was an entry point.

Her heart pounded at the possibility of being able to go back. And she pushed her legs harder, urging them to move faster, trying to escape this outland in one last dash. Nothing could stop her, could keep her from returning. Keep her from achieving real Departure this time.

At least, that was what she thought. But the sudden concave of the earth a few measly meters in front of her had other plans. It swallowed in on itself like the black of the atmosphere she had watched in her mind's eye once after ingesting an astronomy serum—pulling all manner of plant and sediment into the gape of its gravity.

Rhoawyn drops back onto rough ground, feet kicking her in the opposite direction of the collapse as two silhouettes rose from the hole the debris was being sucked into. From where Rhoawyn cowered, she could see something that closely resembled a man, harshly gripping the arm of a child clothed in poorly-stitched rags that lower numbers usually wore.

When they ascended high enough above the debris, she spotted the source of the vacuum consuming the land coming from the man's feet.

She couldn't stop the curiosity bubbling in her brain at the sight. She had never known of anyone who had such control over the earth. Higher numbers have access to technologies that a Four like her could never imagine. Maybe this man was a robot? They advertised those occasionally.

Rhoawyn rolled around a bundle of possibilities in her mind about what the man—if that was what she could even call him—could be, but she was yanked out of her thoughts when she saw him toss the boy onto the ground away from the now closing hole they emerged from.

The boy contorted into a ball, covering his face with his arms, as the man kicked him in his side, no doubt bruising his ribs. For a moment, Rhoawyn watched as he beat the boy in front of her, unsure of what to do. She just wanted to make it back inside the dome. Back to where she and the boy—she was sure of it—belong. But she didn't move so much as a muscle, for fear the shrubbery might bring enough attention to her that he opened one of those holes right beneath where she sat.

What can I do? Rhoawyn wondered, but her body didn't want to budge. The boy, writhing on his side in pain from the hateful blows, cracked teary eyes in Rhoawyn's direction. When their eyes locked, he opened his mouth to call out to her, but all that escaped was a sputtering cough of blood.

Rhoawyn's legs were on the move again. Of their own volition. But her mind was reeling, and when she slammed into the man's sturdy build in an effort to push him away, he didn't even budge. Every action had consequences, even the uninformed ones. Rhoawyn wondered if her action would leave both she and the boy ten feet under.