Shorts With Seekers

Short I

She forced a smile onto her lips as their eyes swept over her and the men and women around her, scrutinizing them one by one. They were lined up, shoulder to shoulder, each of them caked with sweat and dirt, their hair in ruined messes. Some had light burns decorating their paler skin, others seemed to receive a tan. She was lucky that she was with the latter group. The burned ones are never chosen.

 Maybe she'd have the chance this year to leave this place and never return to the Sandpit, maybe she'd never have to dig any more ore, shovel anymore sand, swing a pickaxe at a rock for the hopeful scraps of food that they'd throw in. Maybe she'd have a decent roof over her head, a bed to sleep on, and a meal to eat every day without the threat of receiving a pickaxe in the gut when the guards weren't watching.

 That would be what she would hope for if their eyes hadn't drifted away from her, and onto the next man beside her.

 Behind her back, her hands tightened around each other, her nails digging into the skin. It was hopeless to get chosen. The men were bigger, stronger, and more defined than her thin, small yet muscular form.

 "Place your bids now!" A man called over the intercomms stationed around the area, high up on wooden posts that she and several others had to place. Everything here was still standing thanks to them. Every time she thought about it, a spark of anger triggered in the back of her head. But, soon, it was extinguished. She couldn't risk anyone knowing what was going through her mind. If they did, then the Termination would come quicker. Not just for her, but for the rest of them still waiting, still hoping.

 It only took two minutes for all the bids to be placed electronically, and sent to the screen in the back, behind the crowd, right in the labourers sights. She knew it was just there to drop their spirits, to make them feel like nothing. It worked, it worked well.

She tightened her grip around her own wrists, digging her nails into the flesh. She didn't expect to be up there in the first place, so why did it hurt so bad when her number wasn't up there amongst the others around her?  She didn't know, and now she didn't care. One more year 'till she wouldn't have to care any more. One more year.

The guards lined up behind the ones remaining at the camp, each of them locking the shackles around their wrists and leading them away. Except her's didn't even touch her wrists, just place something cold in her palm. "One bullet, one shot. Maybe you'll change something, maybe you'll be killed. Either way, there's a chance that you'll be free, so why not take the shot?" He whispered in her ear. Even though she couldn't see him, she could almost hear the smile on his face as he took a step back, away from her.

Her eyes set on the board still depicting the numbers. She raised the gun towards it, her had shaking uncontrollably. And fired. The glass fell to pieces, a blood splatter clear behind it.