The Boundary: Chapter Five
By: Gen1900
Tricity and I desperately tried to get Falcon off the concrete floor. He lain weak . . . still . . . but his pulse remained in short bursts.
In the background, the boy with the unruly brown hair, Cal, kept shaking his head.
“Why do you help him? You saw the way he acted towards us!” he grumbled angrily.
I whispered back a harsh response, but it was stopped abruptly by a black-gloved hand squeezing my shoulder.
“LISTEN TO THE PRESIDENT’S SPEECH!” a guard barked, making sure his voice stayed low.
“But . . ., ” I managed to spit out, ” Falcon is unconscious!”
“We’ll take him to the hospital ward for treatment after the speech,” the guard said with authority.
Before I could protest again Cal gave me a sharp look, which clearly read, ” Just DO as he says this time.”
I muttered to myself and turned my eyes toward the stage. Tricity right behind me; her hand in mine for comfort. I had no idea who she was, yet she seemed genuinely concerned.
She appeared about my age, maybe a little bit younger. Her black hair fell about shoulders in rolling wisps; small in height; pale lips that trembled from the cool building; and her eyes had the color of a blue jay.
I’ve never seen a blue jay, but my Mom told me that back in her day, all kinds of birds tweeted in the village. Then the President killed them due to, “their lack of contribution to the society.” Mom laughed at that remark. She said one day, “Not only do birds get rid of bugs . . . they spread seeds for gardens.”
My eyes coldly took in the lean figure of the President. His face was too hollow, and his sparse stubble of brown hair on his chin made him look like he was trying to achieve the role of: “Supreme Ruler.” In reality, he was a coward. He never went about the village alone. He had guards at his side always. I guess he’s scared . . . that he might go back to living quarters . . . DEAD. Not that I liked killing people, but he deserved a punishment.
” Well, it looks like we have good crowd of kids today, ” the President began. Beads of perspiration formed on his forehead when no one burst out clapping. Everyone remained deadly serious and mad.
“You know that we have started a program called the D.F.W. If you are ignorant of what that stands for it’s . . .”
A teenager from far end of the room interrupted,” We’re not stupid! Just finish your LAME speech.”
I saw a group of guards by the front entrance to the warehouse closely knit themselves by the red-faced girl.
Poor thing.
“Anyways, ” he started again, “it’s the Disease Free World Program. My scientists and I have been tirelessly working on healing the sick outside the boundary. Mind you, there’re many way passed the hope of being saved. So . . . your job is to help us fight against this disease-ridden nation! And start cleaning our world piece by piece. Whose with me?”
No one answered his begging plea.
After a bit, he spoke, cruel this time.
“You have no choice as it is. I suggest you agree with me.”
Still . . . silence.
“That’s it, ” he exclaimed, ” guards, take them to the hospital! They need to be urged to their decision.”
A swarm of soldiers completely surrounded the large group of us. We all yelled to be let free, but the President only laughed sardonically.
“Remember . . . don’t resist. It might hurt you.”
He ushered his secretary, who stood by him at the podium, and left us to the hounds . . . to be slaughtered.
I frantically looked around for Falcon’s unconscious body, but he wasn’t there.
“Dear Lord, ” I whispered, “don’t let them hurt him.”
Then I realized my whole group of friends I could’ve trusted were gone. Where were they?
The President quickly ran back to the microphone to say his final blow.
“No one can have freedom . . . no one ever will.”
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